A Woman Undefeated (8 page)

They would sail across the sea to Liverpool, then sell the boat to anyone who could give a bit of silver in return. Her men could work as labourers, on the many houses that would be needed for the immigrants who would be landing there. Alice would rent a house. She had a bit of money put by and she could let a room to boarders if necessary. Maggie could find a job in a gentleman’s kitchen, as that was what she had been doing, learning her skills at the Filbeys’ farm. She was bound to want a new life and to leave all this misery behind.

Alice had under estimated Jack’s wish to leave his wild ways behind him. There had been too many contenders recently for his hard man title and it seemed to take longer to recover from the bouts. If truth was told he had been suffering a few headaches recently, so perhaps it was time to settle down with a good wife.
He could sire many children. A quiver full would make him proud and they would look with admiration at their strong and handsome dad. The problem now was Maggie. How to get her agreement to be his wife needed careful thought. And what would they do with Molly, with her only being three? Did Jack really want to take on responsibility for a small child who didn’t belong to him? Wouldn’t the child be better with the aunt left in the hamlet? It was too much to expect that he took on the little sister, when he and Maggie would find it hard to be looking out for themselves.

Alice had a quick mind, she was a devious thinker and saw her opportunity while Maggie was away at the farm. She was there when Mairi took her last breath and there when the priest came in to say the final prayers. In front of Jack, God forgive her, she had told Father Daley of the dying woman’s wishes, that Maggie was to marry Jack and travel across the sea. Molly was to stay in Killala with the aunt, who would be responsible for the child’s welfare.

Clever Alice, Jack’s wonderful mother, who usually got her way!

The boat didn’t make it to Liverpool as had been the intention. Instead it was gripped by a frightening undercurrent as the sun began to show its first light of the day.

Jack and his father hastily swung the big cumbersome oars into action, whilst the fishing boat swirled around in the turbulent waters helplessly. They watched with trepidation as it was thrust unmercifully into the estuary tide of the River Dee. Both men were knocked backwards as the boat plunged sharply along its new course, leaving them all wide eyed and shaken. There was nothing they could do but sit there, as neither man felt strong enough to do anything more. The journey had been exhausting and fraught with danger, but as long as the vessel got them to safety, who were they to change Fate’s hand?

There had been so much sea to travel. None of them had been aware of how long the journey had taken, though in a vague way the men seemed to think it was four or five days.

The first day had been one of appalling sea sickness for both Maggie and Alice, and they had taken it in turn to retch the contents of their stomachs up over the side. The two women had lain together on the mattress that Maggie had insisted on bringing with her, sharing a blanket under a tarpaulin and sleeping most of the way. They only felt like taking sips of water from the bucket, which was carefully stowed under one of the seating planks, and waved away the bread and cheese brought to them by an anxious Jack.

He and his father had tried to keep the boat hugging the headland of the north coast of Ireland most of the way, but this course of action had hidden dangers, mostly from jagged rocks that could smash a small vessel to bits. When a lighthouse was spotted along the North Channel, they stayed out at sea, where a strong head wind helped them on their way. There was much creaking and groaning from the valiant old boat, as its small white sail blew with a fierce intensity. But it had got them there to England, got them within striking distance of their destination, even if they had been blown off course at the end of the Irish Sea.

The men huddled together as the boat dashed along uncontrollably, anxiously debating what they should do if they saw a bit of land ahead of them. Hopefully the sea would become a little calmer, then the oars could be used to steer the boat ashore.

The outline of the hills in the distance began to take on a more definite hue and Maggie felt less shaken as she looked towards them. She had the oddest feeling that she had seen the hills before, but at that moment nothing was making much sense to her.

This was a dream that she was in the middle of. A nasty dream that maybe she would wake from and find herself back in the hamlet, caring for her mother and sister. Surely this couldn’t be happening. Lying in the bottom of a smelly, wet and perilous boat with the Haines family, with her body feeling numb and with cold and hatred burning deep within.

She thought back to the hurried words of her marriage ceremony, spoken in Latin by the purposeful priest over a
trembling bride, and a groom, who just wanted it over with. All the while her mother’s body had lain on the granddad’s mattress, covered with a blanket for decency’s sake. Then Jack dragging her from the cabin, cruelly, she thought now, whilst Molly screamed that she had wanted to go too and Aunt Tess, white faced, but determined, had held on to the distressed little girl. She could have stayed, couldn’t she? Fought Jack’s insistence that she go along with them? But then, wasn’t it what her mammy had wanted? Father Daley and Jack had both said it was so.

Her stomach began to churn at the thought of it all. The heartrending cries of her sister still ringing in her ears, the way that Jack had half carried her protesting body and almost thrown her into the waiting boat. The way that Alice had stood guard, as the men had gone back to the cabin to pick over scant possessions, which might come in handy in their new life.

Maggie began to tremble with emotion, as she remembered Father Daley’s promise that he would take her mother’s body to the Ballina graveyard, the very next day. These Haines’ had prevented her from being there, prevented her from following the coffin, stolen away her right to the ritual of mourning and the knowledge that her mother’s body had been safely and Christianly dealt with. Well, she would never forgive them for it, not one of them. Even if they had gone to the trouble of knocking up a wooden box, for her mother to be buried in decently. Whatever happened in her life from now on, she would remember what this family had done. Grief had turned to anger, but for the moment nothing could be done.

Alice had noticed that Maggie was showing an interest in the scenery and shuffled her body closer. They were passing a long narrow island, around two acres in width. Upon it perched a derelict building that might once have been a church. Around the island floated black, big headed creatures that looked like shiny dogs. One came so near to the boat, that Maggie leant out to touch it. She squealed in delight as it nudged her hand, then floated off again.

That encouraged Alice to put her arm around the girl’s shoulders, whilst beginning to say that she was sorry that they had left Killala in the way they had. It had been the urgency of getting away on an early morning tide, but if it had been any different they would have stayed and helped to put on a decent funeral for her mother.

Maggie shook off her arm huffily and turned to look at the two smaller islands they were passing, so Alice shrugged. The girl would come round in time. She was sure to need some motherly advice in a strange and unfamiliar land.

The wind had begun to drop and the men began to take turns in rowing. Seamus, Jack’s brother, was given the job of looking out for the sand banks that had begun to rise. The hills on the right of the estuary had now become mountains and with the vista being clearer, cattle could be seen grazing in the far off fields. To the left was rolling grassland and dark, dense woodland, with the occasional whitewashed cottage built along the shore.

A little way on, a fishing boat came into view, smaller than their boat, but a neat sturdy craft that bobbed and dipped in their direction. As the two boats drew closer, the man hailed them, probably intending to ask where they were bound. They gasped as one, when, as he did so, a flock of marauding seagulls swooped en masse, down upon the trawling net that the vessel was dragging behind. They all leapt up and waved their arms about wildly, nearly capsizing the boat in an attempt to help the fisherman from losing his precious catch. Then they sat down breathless, laughing with a touch of hysteria, a welcome diversion from the helplessness that they had been experiencing before he came along. The man smiled ruefully and pointed back in the direction he had come.

“Will it be the Irish settlement at Denna Point you’re making for?”

He could see their weary faces, the brave countenances of the men, the worried looks on the women’s faces and the mean chattels of a family without a home.

He had probably seen many of these poor hopeful people
before, as many Irish were leaving their homeland and trying for a new life in England.

Directing Jack’s dad to keep on until they reached the Denna Gutter, he said that the undercurrent would push the boat naturally into shore.

“The river thins out up there, see. ‘Tis only high in the Spring. It’s beginning to get choked with sampkin grass, so you’ll be able to wade in and carry the women ashore.”

He waved away their thanks and went on his way, with the seagulls whirling and swooping again and the fisherman poking a long stick into the air.

Jack shouted after him, “What place will we be?” But the man’s answer was lost on the wind and under the shrieking cries of the seagulls, as his craft sped off pushed by the fast running tide.

Their spirits lifted a few minutes later, as a large village came into view. It was so different than anything they had ever seen before.

“Will you look at those wonderful houses,” shouted Alice, as they all gazed with awe at the tall timber clad buildings interspersed with low whitewashed cottages. Grand personages walked along the promenade, leaving their carriages at the stone quay wall, so that they could take advantage of the healthy seaside air.

They could only stare and wonder. Only Alice whispered, “Is this to be our new home?”

“Naw,” replied Jack’s dad. “That place be only for fancy folk, not for the likes of us. We could only be their servants and they our masters. The river hasn’t started thinning out yet, so we’ve still some way to go.”

His words brought them back to earth again. Yes, they were common labourers, come to work for the likes of the people that they had just seen.

Maggie decided there and then that one day she would wear a dress like one of those that the women had been wearing. Surely they would all get jobs and make some money. Maybe she could save a little and get a pretty dress to attend church on Sundays, but
then any dress would be better than the tattered rags she wore now.

She was brought back from her ambitions with a jolt, as Jack shouted.

“This must be the place. Look over there!”

After the big village, the scenery had returned to grass and woodland, but this had now given way to ugly mounds of discarded slag. Beyond the slag was a colliery with its machinery and smoking chimney, making the whole area look grim and austere. A coal sloop was tied up at the quayside and Jack steered the boat towards it. Maybe this was the place called Denna Quay.

A man ran out of the cottage that was built on top of the perimeter wall, shouting as he ran, “What’s your business here? Get away, get away! This is private property. What’s your business here?”

He was quite an old man, dressed in a worn black suit, and the occupants of the boat waited in trepidation as he puffed his way along the wall to where the sloop was tied. He looked down upon them and his angry face cleared into an understanding smile.

“Got lost, have yer? It must be the Irish settlement yer after. Sorry to be shouting after yer, but I’m the watchman here and I have to be careful. The settlement’s just up the river there. Another ten minutes rowin’ will do it. Tell yer pals though that I’ll be waitin’ for them, if they think they can start pinching any of the coal.”

Jack thanked him politely and began to steer the boat back into the river. The men felt relieved that the quay hadn’t been their destination, as none of them would have wanted to work down a mine. It was on land or fishing that they sought to earn their living or even building work in Liverpool, not entombed underground.

Feeling anxious and with bellies growling, since the cheese and bread that Alice had bought in Ballina for the trip had run out long ago, their spirits rose when the boat was pulled into the swollen gully, as the fisherman had promised. They saw a stone jetty a little further on and stared curiously above the sea wall, where a small group of people had gathered when the boat had
come into view. Behind the group, tarpaulins had been erected into makeshift shelters under the cover of leaf laden oak trees. Cooking pots swung over open twig fires and children ran barefoot, clapping and shouting words of welcome to the newcomers. Everyone there looked like themselves, wild, tattered and unkempt. Sacking was draped around the shoulders of the unshaven men in their ragged clothing, hollow eyes stared from white pinched faces. The women looked no better than Alice or Maggie did, clinging to their heavy woollen shawls over thin calico dresses. At least the shawls gave some protection from the now biting wind.

The adults were not as forthcoming as the children, but one man, who must have been their spokesman, shouted, “What is yer business here?”

This time the question was asked in Gaelic, and for a moment the family all stared, wrong-footed. They had expected to be spoken to in English, as they were about to set foot on English soil. Then Michael, Jack’s dad, found his voice and replied rustily in the old language that they were from Killala, that they were looking for shelter before the night set in and would be grateful until their dying day, if they could see their way to helping them.

On hearing that they were from the hamlet of Killala, and recognizing the Irish lilt in Michael’s voice, a woman spoke quickly to the rest of the group and soon they were being helped ashore. The boat was tied up at one of the mooring rings and Alice and Maggie were lead to the warmth of a welcoming fire. Their chilled and aching limbs appreciated the luxury of a blazing fire and felt even better when the mattress appeared. What bliss after travelling on the cold and choppy sea.