Last of the Name

Last of the Name — page 3 — CHAPTER 1 THURSDAY MARCH 19 1863 Granny says I’m seven devils in one pair of shoes She doesn’t know the half of it Trouble is always nipping at my heels Tonight it’s me and all seven of them devils tiptoeing tiptoeing past sleeping folk in the hold and them that are coughing too hard to sleep I step over bags and babies I skirt around foul-smelling puddles and kick at rats I can’t just lie in the dark and hear Granny cough and feel her shaking with fever and do nothing nothing If Kathleen gives up her daily bread for me one more time I’ll die of shame If I was bigger I’d clout her over the head and make her eat her own portion 1

Last of the Name — page 4 — fair and square She was having none of it You’re the last of the name Daniel O’Carolan she said to me over the midday ration I swore I’d protect you and you’ll eat what I give you or take a hiding that’ll flay the skin right off you Granny won’t take her food either Our whole long walk from the poorhouse in Ballyvourney to the docks in Cove she divided out every crumb we ever begged for in three even shares But the fever has hold of her by the throat and she’s changed All the strength goes to you now she said to me She handed back the bread You two will need every bit of it You’ll eat what I give you Kathleen said to Granny sliding straight into the role of woman of the house without invitation It’s you we need she added We don’t know a soul in New York You’ll not be alone Granny said She tapped her bundle with a knowing smile She’s kept it at her side ever since last summer when the landlord burned us out of our home She’s guarded it fiercely day and night When I ask her what’s in it she only says It’s ours and tells wild stories about the old kings of Ireland and their great feasts in their golden halls and the master harpers 2

Last of the Name — page 5 — who sang and played for the dancing The more feverish she gets the more she slips into this shadow world where the Irish are the kings Where you can sing the old songs and dance the jigs and reels without without fear of prison She tells her wild tales over and again until she’s worn out Do something I said to Kathleen If it were a wound she’d have her needle and thread out like a shot There’s nothing she can’t mend in the way of cloth Stitched the brothers back together more than once she has There’s nothing to do but pray she said She counted out the rosary on a knotted string I said my prayers already counted them out on my fingers ten times over Maybe God can’t hear me for the coughing I can’t bear it a moment longer I won’t Granny needs food Real food I find the galley steps in the dark and tiptoe onto the deck After the hold fresh air is as sweet as clean water I creep across the deck in darkness The crew eats better than us If I could get to their stores Granny would get stronger She’s had nothing but moldy bread and shriveled potatoes I tiptoe along the rail to the galley door Not a sound comes from inside 3

Last of the Name — page 6 — The food is in the brig under lock and chain The shadows in the passageway give me cover A single single lamp swings above Casks and chests are stacked shoulder high I run to the brig turn sideways breathe all the way out and slide through the bars My shirt tears and a bit of my skin but I’m inside The smell of food a whole roomful it almost brings me to my knees More food in this one spot than I’ve seen in a lifetime For a moment I take a notion of cracking open the barrels and feasting like a lord But I know better I only need a little Something to bring a dash of color to Granny’s face A morsel of anything that will give her the strength to stand I duck down and worm my way through the barrels A musty smell betrays which ones hold the rations they’ve been feeding the passengers Smaller casks of rum and salt beef and smoked fish are off to one side I can only dream of such rich fare Granny’d never be able to eat them sick as she is There’s a rime of mold on a great wheel of cheese and firkins of butter nailed shut too tight for me to open Barrels of flour and salt are no good to me but in the back I smell something sweet something I haven’t smelled in so long that I almost can’t place it I tiptoe to the back and pry up the lid 4

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