An Irish Blacksmith Read online

  Preston Child

  An Irish Blacksmith

  BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

  80331 Munich

  ***

  PRESTON CHILD

  AN IRISH BLACKSMITH

  Discover the bloody past under the English jackboot in this historical short story.

  During the 'potato famine', 1848, Duncan O'Brady meets an old friend. Over some pints in a pub they decide to step out of their poverty. Both Irishmen rob an English gentleman and this in a drunken mood planned act of stupidity turns their lives upside down and makes them face their worst nightmare.

  Preston Child asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This story is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Deserted Streets

  Deserted streets

  Are burning under our feet

  The delighted sky’s dark

  Raindrops are falling down

  All is gone all is left

  Behind on a dying ground

  One cloudy night and we are

  Traveling out of paradise

  One misty right and we are

  Up for another sunrise

  by Christian Bass

  CHAPTER ONE

  DURING the great famine in 1848 an Irish blacksmith named Duncan O'Brady lived with his wife and seven children in Derry; although he worked as hard as possible they never had enough to live.

  On one day, it was a glorious summer evening with clear blue sky and a hot blazing sun; he met Rob O'Doherty, an old friend who invited him to a pub at the edge of the town where the stench of the innumerable corpse burning didn't float over everything. While they enjoyed their pints, they forged plans to get out of the poverty.

  Duncan told him that his boss, the owner of Old Smithy, took the money to the bank on every Friday afternoon and he always made it personal and without any guard. Drunk as they were, they decided to rob him.

  Thinking of all the money they would have in a few days they went home to their families.

  Then Friday noon came, Duncan asked his boss whether he may go earlier because his youngest son had the flu and his wife was afraid of losing him, especially the infant mortality was high in those days. After he made sure that there was not urgent work to carry out his boss permitted it, so that Duncan could meet O'Doherty in a lane nearby the bank. From their position they overlooked the main road.

  And yes, at the end of the street, they thought to see him coming up the sidewalk as slow as an old Englishman walked. When he reached the two men who kept themselves hidden in the shade of an empty house they jumped out and dragged him in the lane. Unfortunately, all the things that could go wrong went wrong. What they hadn't expected was that he yelled for help as same as he recognized them despite their hoods drawn deeply on their face and the scarf they had drawn over their nose.

  During O'Doherty fought with the old man, Duncan glanced an eye over his shoulder and saw two English soldiers running up the street what he told his friend so that they escaped immediately, just before they got the money but they didn't care about it yet.

  For hours Duncan O'Brady hid himself in an empty house at the outskirt of Derry. There he tried to find a solution for this disaster. He didn't know where Rob O'Doherty had escaped, either, because at the end of the lane they ran in two different directions but he was sure to see him again, just as he knew that he had to go home to tell his wife that he made a big mistake.

  But when he came home in the late evening he was welcomed by the police.

  From the distance he saw the dancing candlelight which lighted up the windows of his house. He wondered about the light because his children had to sleep for a long time, except the hunger kept them awake. Deep furrows formed on his face while he walked the last yards to the house.

  He walked on inside, his wife sat on the old couch, kept her only daughter on the lap and whispered comforting words. She had tears in her eyes, but tried to suppress it to the welfare of her sons who sat down to her feet, the odor of burned wax filled the small room that was only inadequately illuminated by the candles.

  Duncan realized all that before he was aware of the two policemen who stood in the background. Now they were emerging, gave him no possibility for a flight and arrested him. He could be led away without any resistance. At the door he cast a last look at his wife and what he saw made him feel much more unwell.

  She lost her control; let her tears run free to the shock of their children. Most of all he would like to have said to her that everything will become alright but he knew that this wouldn't be true, not in these days, not in this country put down by the English crown.

  Why did he let it come such a way?

  Well, they had their worries, the children really didn't replete, their clothes had more patches as it was good, but they had been happy and only that depends in life, nevertheless, he had let it happened. Without thinking properly, he had destroyed their lives too.

  Who should take care of them now?

  And what about the woman he loved more than everything in the world, would she ever be able to forgive him?

  Would she ever get a chance to forgive him?

  On this night he didn't get any sleep, the self reproaches and the worries over his family was tormenting.

  The next day he was put in front of the English police court where he was condemned to a lifelong forced labor in the Australian punishing colony called Van Diemen's Land because he tried to rob a respectable English gentleman. For the reason of his descent, they didn't give him a lawyer as support just as it wasn't allowed to defend himself.

  Even a last meeting with his family was not granted to him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  AFTER the trial, two policemen brought him back to the prison cell where Duncan O'Brady sank on the plank bed, shocked by the judgment. All the happenings in the courtroom repeated in front of his inner eye; how they led him in, along the spectators with the unsmiling English faces; how he had to say his name; confess his religion before they wanted to hear that he was guilty, so that they could go on without testimony which would get very expensive for his family; then the judge announced the punishment to all those who was present.

  Under the approbation of the attendees he was led away again, besides, some spew on him, turned away from him or shouted something like that came about you right and in the last row he could cast a view of the crying face of his wife, what made him look down.

  In all his life he never had felt such guilty. For sure it wasn't his first mistake in life and during his thirty-five years he got many punishments by life, but this time, this time he should have known it better, he should have known what will happen. He never thought well after drinking some pints, something he should have remembered before he met Rob O'Doherty in that lane.

  Now he brought no luck about his whole family.

  From far away Duncan could hear the bells of St. Columb's Cathedral ringing three times. His last hours had started except a miracle would save him. Well, why it should not happen to him? Why the Young Ireland revolution shouldn't come to Londonderry and then, maybe the Apprentice Boys would lock the city gates again, but deep inside he knew that this wouldn't happen. In few hours they would bring him on a ship which would bring him to Botany Bay and the Van Diemen's Land where he should spend his life until his final days end.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A NOISE in front of his cell let him wake up in the morning; loud voices and shouting prisoners. Duncan knew what that meant. Slowly he stood up from his bed, strolled to the small window and threw a glance at his native town. The sky over Londonderry glowed in the dawn and the small
streets were still deserted, but he knew that would change in some hours, when the soldiers started the corpse burning.

  How many people had died last night; maybe one of his neighbors or friends or even worse, a member of his own family?

  He would never know it. From today on he was banned from his known life.

  Keys rattled; a clicking noise in the lock and the heavy iron door was wound up. Two guards entered, ordered him to step out of his cell where a third guard waited for him with an iron cervical ring.

  As soon as he came out of the cell, the cervical ring was put around his neck; a rusty iron chain was fastened to it which led to the next prisoner, an emaciated, red-haired teenager, who seemingly had submitted himself to his destiny already.

  After he had taken his place in the row the guards turned to the next cell, let out a violently defending prisoner who seemed famously, without Duncan could arrange him at the moment.

  It lasted some minutes until he recognized his old friend Dan O'Connor from Cork. During his apprenticeship as a blacksmith, he got to know him and together they made quite a lot of pubs unsafe in the good old days, however, then he met his wife and followed her to Londonderry.

  Dan still tugged in his chain, tried to escape from it convulsively, besides, he also took in count that it strangled him. Everything was better than to be exiled overseas.

  Duncan observed this fight without intervening. The more Dan pulled on the chain, the more it also strangled the prisoners around him; nevertheless, Duncan admired his friend for having the courage to rebel openly against the capture.

  In the meantime, other prisoners were taken out of their cells and integrated into the row.

  First when the guards started to throw a watchful eye on O'Connor, Duncan laid him the hand on the shoulder appealingly. He felt the hectic movements of the muscles which slowly began to grow tired under the chain, in addition, he carefully whispered, tried to make him understand that the guards had the right to execute him right away if they thought it would be better and as dead man there won’t be a chance for a happy escape anymore.

  According to the English penal law the lifelong exile was to be equated with the capital punishment.

  Slowly, Dan obeyed the reassuring words of his friend and started to resign himself to the fact that he lay in chains and was on the way to a new world now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DARK smoke welcomed Duncan O’Brady when they left prison; burned flesh – the burden of his beloved country. During the day this inhuman stench would increase to the most unbearable and first the cold evening breeze would try to chase the clouds away.

  With bowed head and tears in the eyes, Duncan and the other prisoners slowly walked towards the Ferry Quay Gate, guarded by English soldiers and under the eyes of the local spectators that approached from every single corner of the town. Here and there the noble English society spat on them or throw rotten fruits, even some fearful Irish fellow countrymen participated. However, that was not the worst for Duncan; somehow he could understand it, after what they had done to merit it. But watching their wives and children collapse lamenting as soon as their husbands and fathers passed by, was much harder to burden.

  When they arrived St. Columb’s Cathedral the bells rang a last goodbye, nothing but a small protest against the British occupiers and yet a sign to the exiled that should remind them no matter what they might have done they will never be forgotten in the hearts of their proud Irish brothers.

  Over and over again Duncan tried to find his wife in the rows of the spectators. He wished to see her beautiful face a last time, to keep this image deep in his heart as same as he hoped that she was not there, would not see how her husband got treated. And it seemed as if she wasn’t taking part in this procession, at least he could not find her anywhere and yet he still had this feeling telling him that she was very close.

  In that moment when he thought he had discovered her in the crowd a small fight started. The sons of one of the prisoners tried to free his father by attacking the Englishmen. Like a bolt out of the blue three young men pushed one soldier aside and knocked another one down. They overcame the English fast so that it seemed for a while that they would succeed. But then, under the cheering crowd the soldiers stroke back and arrested them.

  Duncan felt pity for them, even though for their father, a gray haired man some prisoners ahead of him in this queue. The old man cursed the English; shouting loudly and tried to free himself from the rusty iron chains. One soldier standing close to him watched him carefully and after a short while he ordered him to stop it. When he realized that the old man didn’t listen he hit him with his rifle so that he almost knocked off. For a moment Duncan thought that the soldier would beat the old man to death, however, the other soldiers stopped him from doing so.

  The whole incident only lasted some minutes, not even enough to think about a fall out of the line. Duncan was sure, when they all would have fought the soldiers they might have won and free themselves. But apart from the old man nobody else saw the possibility.

  Slowly they started to march on again. In front of them, he already could see the open Ferry Quay Gate and on the other side of the town walls, he saw the masts of the anchored British vessels and schooner which would kidnap them from their suffering but beloved home into an unknown future far away from their folks.

  More and more Duncan got aware of what he had done and what it had brought to him and his family. He was about to leave this beloved Ireland, exiled for a stupidity that had started in a drunken state. He would give his life to undo it now. What was he thinking to make his family suffer that much?

  Later he was not able to say when the thought had hit his mind and how he finally found the courage to do so.

  The first prisoners passed the gate when Duncan looked up, held his head high and with pride in his broken eyes he started to sing.

  »No fife did hum nor battle drum…«

  The soldiers gave him a strange look as if they wanted to force him to stop harassing them with his deep voice.

  »…did sound its dread tattoo.«

  The old man was the first one who participated in the song and one by one the other prisoners followed him.

  »But the Angelus bells o’er the Liffey swell…«

  And even their wives and children joined in; united for a last time they showed the English occupiers that they are not broken yet. They might suffer an inhuman famine, they might get oppressed, but they still hadn’t lost their pride, their resistance against the enemies.

  »…rang out through the foggey dew!«

  The English soldiers guarded them out of the town, towards an old schooner, made them enter the wooden ship and let them disappear into the inside of it, where they silently had to stand crowed in the darkness and breath old flat air, not knowing if they ever would see the sun again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SOBS.

  Emptiness.

  Silence.

  Duncan closed his eyes to escape the darkness around him, tried to avoid the emptiness inside of him with a silent prayer. He felt his lips moving, performing the words, but no sound came out. He had never expected that his life would end like cattle on a market day.

  Time was moving slowly and nothing happened, no movement that showed they were on their way to Van Diemen’s Land. Nothing found its way down to them. Once in a while they could hear someone shouting and heavy steps running over their heads.

  Have they already been on their way?

  How much time had passed since the soldiers closed the hatch?

  Just when he started to hope that they were not leaving the harbor of Londonderry a jerk under their feet made them tumbling and if there had been space they might even have fallen down but so they stayed as they were, chained to each other in absolute darkness.

  »Goodbye my beloved country, fare-thee-well!« Someone muttered.

  Duncan recognized the voice as the one from the old man. Somehow it made him feel better that he k
new the person close to him. It made him wake up from the nightmarish emptiness inside of him.

  »What’s your name, lad?« He asked softly. »Are you alright?«

  »Craic! I’m fine, at least as fine as we all can be.« the old man answered. »Declan O’Malley, a banned teacher from Dublin!«

  »Duncan O’Brady, banned blacksmith from Londonderry.«

  »What have you done that they banned you with the rest of us?«

  »Mugging my boss, or at least I’ve tried to do it.«

  »Another real criminal! May I guess: he was English, wasn’t he?«

  »Of course, one of those goddamn bastards, who came to town and overtook our businesses to make us work as slaves for hardly enough money to have a living.«

  »It’s all the same, all over our once proud Irish nation.«

  »I don’t know. I never got any news from outside the town walls.« Duncan confessed, knowing as a brave fellow countryman he should have been more interested in what was going on around his country. »What you’re charged for, O’Malley?«

  »I’m a traitor to the English Crown; nothing more, nothing less. And if they hadn’t needed more lads for the exile, they would have hung me for sure.«

  »What have you done, shot the Prince of Wales?«

  »Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Young Ireland and how we tried to free our country?«

  Duncan said nothing.

  »Craic. I’ll tell you if you wanna hear it.«

  »Can’t you shut up? We don’t wanna hear your shit!« Someone said angrily.

  Duncan tried to locate him, but his eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness properly.

  »Oh lad, shut up. Let them talk if they want to!« Another voice in the darkness, familiar to him, yet unknown.

  CHAPTER SIX