"What do you mean, we all have to
leave?" Emer Nugent demanded as she stared at
the "Notice to Quit" clutched in her hand,
and then looked up for confirmation of her worst
fears from the bailiff, the aptly named Mr. Penny, to
which she always silently added the word
‘pinching’ for more than one reason.
Mr. Penny sidled up to her, and Emer nearly
gagged as the stench of his breath, like stale
whiskey, hit her.
"You know the harvests have been very poor
anyway for the last few years, but this here potato
famine has been the end of his lordship, as it has
been for many other of the gentry hereabouts in
County Meath. Lord Devlin has been kind enough to pay
all your passages. Rather than have you fight over
who gets to go to Canada, the land of milk and honey
as everyone says, you’re all to be cleared off,
and the estate sold.
"Now of course, if you’ve a mind to
forget all about wedding Garvan Dillon, and come
settle in the gatehouse with me, I might consider
letting you and the rest of the family stay,"
Mr. Penny leered.
Emer’s unusual aqua eyes, the colour of
the sea, narrowed, and she tossed her mane of rich
burgundy hair as she replied, "I’m sorry,
Garvan and I are betrothed. Under no circumstances
could I ever consider breaking that arrangement to
marry the likes of you. You’ve brought us to
this pass, Mr. Penny, skimming as much as you could
off the estate funds for your drinking and gambling,
while collecting the rents month after month on
cottages falling down around our ears. When my father
was so foolish as to finally fix his roof a year or
two back, you doubled the rent on his cottage!
"For the past two years the potatoes have
failed, yet you’ve done nothing but squeeze all
the tenants even harder for their rent. You’ve
taken the very food out of their mouths rather than
let them fall into arrears. And now that the English
government is demanding higher taxes per head on each
estate, you are trying to tell me his lordship is
being generous in forcing us to emigrate? That’s
nonsense!
"Unlike you, I can understand the
newspapers very easily, and I know it only costs five
pounds a head to send us to Canada on the coffin
ships, but twenty pounds in taxes! So Lord Devlin
will save himself fifteen pounds per tenant, and gets
the chance to fob the problem of Ireland’s poor
onto another government as well!" Emer raged.
"Well, Miss High and Mighty, whatever way
it adds up, the ship sails noon Sunday from Dublin,
so you’d better get your things together and get
moving!" Mr. Penny taunted.
"But it takes three days to walk to Dublin
from here! And we still have to pack for the
journey!" Emer protested.
"It’s your choice, go on the ship, or
starve here in Ireland like the rest of you bloody
Papists," Mr. Penny spat, as if the words were
distasteful to him, and at stalked away from the door
of the cottage.
She grabbed her shawl off the peg by the door
and paced outside her small cottage for a time,
wondering why she suddenly felt as though she
couldn’t breathe. It simply couldn’t be
true, could it? If it were, what were they all to do?
Though Emer had been scathing in her criticism
of Mr. Penny and Lord Devlin, she was well aware of
the fact that she and her family were the most
fortunate people on the Kilbracken estate. Emer
herself was governess to Lord Devlin’s two small
daughters, and as such not only received a fee
cottage, but clothes, food and a salary of twenty
pounds a year.
Her elder brothers Cormac and Martin also did
well compared to many other Irish peasants, for they
helped run the racehorse stable on the estate, and
were fine trainers and riders of champion
hunters.
Yet in spite of their relative prosperity, the
potato famine which had raged throughout Ireland for
the past two years, ever since that fateful day in
October 1845 when the pratai had been taken out of
the ground all over the country black and stinking,
had caused untold suffering throughout the beleagured
land. Food had become scarce, prices had risen
sharply, people had panicked, and many had already
died or emigrated.
Emer had never imagined that her own family
would be part of the massive evictions scheme she had
read so much about, but now it seemed that even the
estate where she had grown up had fallen on hard
times. Ever since the lady of the house had died in
childbirth several years ago, Lord Devlin had fallen
into dissolute ways, and the corrupt Mr. Penny had
helped speed up the estate’s decline.
Emer gathered her shawl closely around her
shoulders, unable to control her shivering. After a
few more moments pacing, she knew she couldn’t
put off speaking to her family any longer. She hoped
she seemd calm enough as she walked to the fourth
cottage in the row, where, as she had predicted, the
entire Nugent family had gathered to discuss the
terrible news.
"I say we should stay in Ireland, find
work somewhere!" her youngest brother Cathan, at
only twelve, shrieked to be heard. "So many have
been forced out of Ireland already, there are bound
to be people looking for good horse trainers!"
"I agree with Cathan," Martin,
Emer’s second brother, and closest in age to her
at twenty two to her twenty, said quietly. His wife
Nuala nodded also.
"Ireland is full of horse trainers,
Brother, as well you know," Cormac, the eldest,
at twenty three, said with a contemptuous snort.
"But Cormac, I don’t want to leave
our home! What about our girls, Ailbhe and Blinne?
Can you imagine us having to travel half way around
the world with them?" Cormac’s wife Ailis
protested.
"And what about the girls in our
family?" her father Liam demanded angrily.
"Four girls, sixteen and younger, off to Canada
to find work! What are they fit for except farm
labour and a few household duties in the scullery of
a big house?"
"I can cook and sew as well, Da, we all
can. Emer’s taught us," Brona sniffed,
offended. "And as for being too young to look
after myself, sure, weren’t you and Mammy
married at the same age I am now?"
"No dear, we were a bit older than
sixteen, but near enough," her mother Breda
reminded them all.
"Can we stop the family gossip for a
moment here, please!" Cormac roared as they all
tried to talk at once.
All of them subsided into silence as they fixed
their eyes on the powerful figure, tall and blonde,
blue-eyed, as handsome as a young god, Emer had
always thought admiringly. But he was also far too
fond of getting his own way, she reflected. What Fate
did he wish to lead them all into?
Cormac stood in the centre of the room and
looked from one to the other, making sure they were
all listening to him.
"We must be calm, and practical. It is not
the end of the world. Others before us have lost
their homes. We have eight days until the boat
leaves. If we have to go to Dublin to board the ship,
then I suggest that rather than waiting around until
they smash the walls and roofs down around all our
ears, that the oldest of us all go the city to look
for work.
"If some of us do manage to find
positions, then we can all think about staying here
in Ireland. If not, well, we will just have to take
our chances and get on the Pegasus bound for
Quebec," Cormac proposed.
The Nugents all looked from one to the other,
and Emer was the first one to speak. "I agree
with Cormac. I’m not saying it will be easy,
with so many to feed in a big city, and needing a
roof over our heads as well, but it is better than
being forced to go on one of those dreadful ships
I’ve heard about from the papers. I’ll pack
up my things and be ready to leave at sunrise."
"I knew you would be game for anything, a
thaisce," her father Liam smiled, using his pet
name for her, ‘my treasure.’
"I will go with Cormac and Emer. Who
else?" Martin declared.
His wife Nuala offered, "If the younger
girls or Cathan were willing to look after the
children, then Ailis and I could go with the three of
you looking for work. I’m sure I could find
someone who wanted my embroidery and knitting and
weaving skills, and no one makes finer gowns than
Ailis."
"I’ll look after your lads Oisin and
Daig, Nuala, if Maeve will look after Ailis’
daughters," Cathan agreed.
"But I want to go with Emer. I’m
thirteen, old enough to work at a job cleaning or
cooking somewhere!" Maeve protested.
"No, pet, you have to stay and help Da and
Mammy get their things together. It will be a much
harder journey for them and will take longer. You and
Cathan should stay, and Roisin also, since she is the
next youngest. You’ll all have to take turns
carrying things," Emer coaxed
"Right, that’s settled then,"
Cormac said with an air of finality. "We shall
all go tomorrow except the youngest and oldest, and
we’ll meet up at the docks on Sunday at noon.
Or, if we find work and lodgings, we shall send a
message to the others saying where we are."
"I don’t like this. It’s going
to split up the family either way if we all have to
go into service," Cara, Emer’s fifteen year
old sister, complained.
"I know how you feel, dear, but is it
better to be all together in a foreign land, or see
each other only sometimes, but in our own
country?" Cormac asked.
"I don’t know. We’ve never been
separated before. The Nugent family has lived and
died on this estate for generations, yet overnight it
has been taken from us," Cara sighed as she
turned back to her knitting.
"Now let’s not be so
pessimistic," their father Liam scolded. "I
think we should try to stay in Dublin. But Cara is
right. If it is going to cause undue hardship and
suffering, then I think we should seriously consider
Canada as a fresh start."
"I’m going to go over to see Garvan,
Da, to tell him of our decision, and see what
arrangements he and Oran are going to make,"
Emer said quietly.
Her father smiled gently, and nodded. "Off
you go then, Emer, and enjoy yourself, you two
lovebirds."
Emer heaved a mighty sigh as she left the house
and started to walk up the path to the last cottage
in the row. Her father and mother had had such a
perfect marriage, it seemed impossible for them to
understand that not every couple was as much in love
as they, or that her impetuous nature was rather hard
to curb at times.
Emer had danced with Garvan many times at one
of the recent dances, partly because she loved to
dance, and partly to get even with the girls in the
village who had called her stuck up, and had made fun
of her for never having been courted.
The gossips had made great sport of the whole
affair, and before she had known anything about it,
Emer was landed with a fiance who, though a worthy
man, had very little scintillating conversation,
education, or any shared interests with
herself.
His brother Oran was slightly better, for at
least he was interested in improving his ability to
read, and joined in with Emer’s family as she
gave all the youngest ones lessons. But the most that
could be said for the Dillon brothers was that they
were a pair of very stolid farm workers with few
prospects other than working for someone else tilling
the soil for the rest of their lives.
Still, as her father had said, the Dillon
brothers were decent men, kind, gentle, tall, and
handsome, and remarkably similar in appearance with
the same bright blue eyes. The only thing to
distinguish them was their hair, for Garvan was
blonde, while Oran’s hair was dark brown.
"I’m glad you’re here, Emer.
What have your family decided to do?" Garvan
said without preamble when she tapped on the door and
entered the cottage.
"Those of us who are able and old enough
are all leaving for Dublin in the morning to look for
work. The old pair and the youngest children will be
following on to meet us Sunday at the docks if we
have no success. But if we do find work and a new
home, we’ll meet them at the docks to take them
to our new place."
"In that case, since two of the carts are
going up to Dublin tomorrow to fetch some provisions,
Sam the head driver says we can all go up
together," Garvan informed her.
"If we won’t have to walk, perhaps we
should rethink our plans, and all go with Sam,"
Emer said, relieved at the prospect of her family not
having to walk all the way to the distant capital of
Ireland.
"What do you think about going to Canada,
Emer?" Oran asked, clearly interested in her
opinions.
"I’ve heard dreadful thing about the
condition of the ships, and even though Lord Devlin
has paid our passage, we will still have to feed and
look after ourselves on a voyage that could last six
to eight weeks, depending on the weather," Emer
warned them.
"A good point," Garvan said quietly.
"We are going to need food and provisions as
well, Oran."
"I’ll count up how much ready money
we have, but if the lands are going to be cleared
anyway, we should take as much as we can with us.
Otherwise we will only have to pay good money for it
in the town," Oran advised.
"Right, in that case we had better stop
standing around yarning, and get on with the job,
" Emer stated, and took her leave of the
brothers.
Before she began her packing, however, she
needed to go back to her parent’s house to tell
them the good news about the carts.
"In that case, perhaps we should all go to
town tomorrow," her father said.
"Will we be ready by then?" his wife
asked worriedly.
"It will cost money for lodgings,"
Brona cautioned.
"And what about all the food and animals
and so on we will have to leave behind?" Cara
asked querulously.
Emer considered this point carefully. Then she
replied, "I have to talk to Lord Devlin about
paying me my wages anyway, so I’ll see if
he’d be willing to give us a fair price for he
pigs and poultry. I’ll do the best I can, but if
we all intend on leaving tomorrow, we had better get
to work."
With that, she tidied her hair and dress, and
headed up to the big house. After a half-hour wait,
Emer was able to secure a brief audience with Lord
Devlin, in which she explained her needs.
"You can always stay, my dear. My wife was
always very fond of you, you know. You were the
daughter we never had, until of course our own little
ones came along," the middle aged man said
sincerely, though his general demeanour was one of
lassitude brought on by too much drinking.
"You’ve been an excellent governess, and we
would be happy to keep you on as a part of the
household.
"But what about all the rest of my family,
and the villagers? It seems unfair to throw us all
out, if it’s possible for some of us to
stay."
"I can’t keep this place going. I
haven’t got the means," Lord Devlin said
wearily, throwing his hands wide in despair.
"Sell some of the land and the horses,
then. You could still keep us all here working for
you!" Emer pleaded desperately.
"No, the taxes would cripple me in no
time. I’m already poor enough as it is,"
Lord Devlin lamented with a melodramatic sigh.
Emer laughed contemptuously. "Poor! With
this house, those clothes! Why, the price of even one
of those leather bound books would feed a family for
a year!"
"There’s no need to be so rude, Emer
Nugent!" Lord Devlin sat up.
Emer, undaunted, saw her chance to voice her
real opinions. "Rude, is it? You’re sending
us off to Canada to be rid of us, and I’m
supposed to be grateful? Do you have any idea of the
conditions on the ships! I read the papers! The
accommodation for steerage passengers is worse than
even your horses, mere animals, would have to endure,
and the mortality aboard the vessels is high.
"I’m sorry Lord Devlin, if I seem
ill-mannered, but I merely speak the truth. You know
I am grateful for everything you and your wife did to
get me an education and a position over the years,
and may God grant that her soul rests in peace. I
only hope when your time comes that your soul will be
able to as well. I hope you can live with yourself,
signing as you have the death warrant of so
many!" Emer concluded tellingly.
"I’m sorry for all of you, really I
am, but it’s done now. I can’t change my
mind even if I wished to," Lord Devlin said in
his haughtiest manner. "So if you have come to
lecture me...."
"No, I haven’t, sir. I’ve come
for my salary, plus the money for my food and clothes
and lodgings for the year that go with it. And a fair
price for our livestock and poultry as well, since we
shall be forced to leave all the animals
behind," Emer demanded with a proud lift of her
chin.
Lord Devlin eyed Emer admiringly, but saw he
would have little chance of persuading her to change
her mind and remain.
"Quite an unsettling little filly,"
he thought to himself with a shake of the head.
"Here, thirty pounds, Missy, and I wish
you and your family all the best, I really do. I
shall be sorry to lose you, and your brothers,"
he added as an afterthought.
"And we are sorry to leave. We were all
born here, and believed we would all live here
forever."
"Perhaps it is fate, destiny," Lord
Devlin declared challengingly as he rose from his
chair. "I think a woman like you is wasted here
in this sleepy little country backwater. Go out into
the wide world, Emer Nugent, and show everyone what
you’re made of," he said with a polite bow
over her hand, which he kissed softly before guiding
her out the door and closing it firmly behind her.
Emer stared at the shut door for several
moments in bemusement, before moving to the back of
the mansion to seek out the housekeeper and butler.
"Well, we’ve been given notice to
quit, Mrs. Reynolds, so I’ve come to say goodbye
and thank you for all your kindness."
"When does the ship leave?" the
elderly housekeeper asked.
"Next Sunday, but we’re off to Dublin
on the carts with Sam tomorrow to see if we can find
some work so we don’t have to go."
"Aye, and perhaps you can sell your
tickets at the docks to people who do want to
emigrate," Mr. Reynolds suggested cleverly.
"That’s an excellent suggestion. We
certainly will try it. The master gave me thirty
pounds for wages and our pigs and hens, so I came to
see if you could give me as many small coins as you
can manage in exchange. If you take out a big coin,
people think you’re rich!"
"It may seem like a great deal of money
now, but with your huge family, it will go
quickly," the butler said kindly, as his wife
got out two pillowcases and began to stuff them with
food.
"I know it isn’t much, but
you’re welcome to it," Mrs. Reynolds said
as she put in several pies and cheeses.
"Really, you mustn’t. You’ll get
into trouble!"
"Nonsense, his lordship never looks at the
books anymore, especially since he struck it lucky on
the gambling recently. Here, he gave me fifty pounds
last week, but with him dismissing all the servants
today, I won’t be needing it. You take
half," the housekeeper offered.
"No, I couldn’t," Emer shook her
head.
"Trust me, you’ll need it. Just
promise me that if you are ever in a position to do a
kindness for another fellow creature, you won’t
walk away," Mr. Reynolds said soberly, and Emer
hugged him
"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, and God bless. I
promise, I won’t forget."
Emer hugged Mrs. Reynolds lingeringly, for the
kind old woman had been a good friend to her over the
years.
Then Emer stopped off at her both her
brother’s houses to tell them the good news
about the carts, before returning to her
parent’s house.
"I have fifty five pounds here," Emer
said, clinking down the coins and notes onto the
table with a flourish, before showing her family the
two bags of food.
"We can’t accept charity," her
father Liam scowled.
"It’s not charity, Da, it’s what
we would be entitled to for the rest of the week if
we stayed anyway. Besides, Mr. Reynolds said we could
pay him back if we were to be kind to the needy in
future, and I promised him I would."
"You’re too soft hearted, Emer,
that’s always been your trouble," her
brother Cormac complained.
"It’s better than sitting around
worrying about fancy clothes all day," Emer
sniped impatiently, with a dig at Cormac’s wife
Ailis, who fortunately was out of the room.
"Emer, that was unworthy of you," her
mother berated her.
"I’m sorry, Mam, it’s just that
Cormac is always so quick to criticise me, yet he
ignores his own wife’s failings. If I
wasn’t so kindhearted, you and Ailis would never
have a square meal on the table in your house, and
Ailbhe and Blinne wouldn’t be able to read or
write, now would they?"
"You are right, Emer, I am sorry. I lack
your firmness of character," Cormac apologised.
"Boldness, you mean," Cathan teased.
"That’s the pot calling the kettle
black, you little monster," Emer retorted,
hugging her youngest sibling and ruffling his hair.
"Sure, doesn’t your name mean
‘battler!’ You did nothing but try to box
your way out of Mam’s belly for nine months, and
you’ve grown even more pugnacious with every
passing day."
"I’ve followed your example, you
spirited young hussy," Cathan mocked, striding
across the room with a long-legged gait in imitation
of Emer’s own walk.
The family all broke into fits of giggles, but
Emer sobered quickly enough. After all, there was
much to be done.
"I’m going to start packing my
things. Now remember, the ship will be cold and damp
with no proper beds if we have to go, so we will need
all the blankets. And if we do end up going to
Canada, it is meant to be a savage country in winter,
much worse than Ireland, so take all your woollens
with you even though today is roasting at the
minute."
Emer went back to the silence of her own
cottage, and sat down with a sigh. A million worries
teemed in her brain, but the only thought she could
focus on was what Lord Devlin had said. Maybe it was
fate, destiny, which was sending her to Canada?
Emer, though frightened by the prospect of
leaving Ireland, was also very curious to travel and
see something of the world. Though it would be a
tremendous upheaval to leave the land of her birth,
many others had emigrated and made a fresh start in
North America.
Aye, but they were the lucky ones who had
survived the passage, she reminded herself grimly. It
was a long journey to Quebec, and one fraught with
danger. Better to try to stay in Ireland if at all
possible, though secretly Emer held little hope of
their chances, and even less confidence that they
would be able to keep the whole family together the
way they had always been.
Emer rose from her chair
decisively and rolled up the sleeves of her brown
cotton gown. Sitting there wouldn’t get the work
done. And only tomorrow would tell what the future
held for her and her family and friends.
