A Ballad of Love and Glory(11)




26, Dec’ 1845

Dear husband,

I pray to God that whin you receive me letter you’re good of health and spirit. Johnny and I pray for you every night, and we fancy the day when we can finally be together. I received your letter and your remitance, and my heart lep to me throat wid delight to know you have not desarted us, John, darlin’. We’ve had many a dark day to be sure, but this Christmas was darker than most because you weren’t here with us in these unsartin times. I miss you terribly, John. How many more Christmas holidays will we be apart? Nothing grieves me more than being separated from you. I’m afeard of what’s to come if our next harvest fails again. The commissioners can’t figure out why the potatoes rotted undher the ground. Was there something evil in the fog that rolled over our potato gardens? Did the English lay a curse upon our soil to starve us out? Is it a punishment from the heavens above? My heart longs for you so much, a stór, sometimes I think it will rot widin me, just like our praties. Please, my love, all I ax is that you do what you can to send us the means to ship off. Let nothing prevint you from sending for me and Johnny and me parents. Every night I lie awake, fancying myself riding on the waves of the Atlantic and into your arms.

Your wife who loves you deeply,

Nelly



He knew well enough that she was right to worry. If the potato crops failed at the next harvest, Ireland would once again be faced with the scarcity it had witnessed in times past. Hadn’t he been born in such times? He still remembered the hunger and the stench of death that overtook his hometown until the potato once again returned, keeping his people fed but never satisfied. As a lad, hearing the stories of Irish heroes that Father Myles would tell him, or seeing heroes like Daniel O’Connell, or even rebel groups such as the Ribbonmen fighting on behalf of Ireland, had made him hope that one day he would be a hero, too, and save his country. But then he became a father and realized that heroism doesn’t feed your family.

He needed to get them out of Ireland, that much was clear. But Nelly wouldn’t leave without her parents, though he feared they were too old to bear the voyage. And where would he get the money to send for them all?

“What troubles you, John Riley?”

His comrade’s voice startled him. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. “How are you keepin’, ould rascal?”

“Never mind me,” Maloney said. “I asked you a question, I did. I know ’tis no music to a man to recite all his woe, but you can’t keep it inside, hurtin’ ya. Go on, then. You can tell me, you can.”

Riley felt ashamed at seeing the concern in the older man’s face, that even after the brutal punishment inflicted upon him, he was more worried about what troubled Riley. No, what right do I have to unload my sorrows on my comrade, especially when the ould man has just suffered more than he ought?

Riley shook his head. “Don’t distress yourself about me none. I’ve nothin’ to tell. I’m here to fetch ya. Captain Merrill said ’tis time.”

Maloney cursed under his breath. “Is it wantin’ to kill me, he is? I’d rather be a deserter, a turncoat, than remain here a blessed minute more.”

“Hold your tongue, you fool!” Riley said, wondering if anyone had heard him. Didn’t he know that would only make things harder for him?

“See here, boy, I watched my missus and daughter ravaged by disease in that rat-infested ship that carried me here. When their bodies were thrown overboard with the rubbish into the Atlantic, I wanted to join them in their watery grave. But suicide is a sin, so, in faith, I remained alive. And all for what, to end up in hell all the same?”

Riley looked at Maloney’s graying hair, his face as wrinkled and sunken as a dried gooseberry, though at least his eyes had not grown dim with age and he still had all his teeth. At sixty-five, his comrade should know better than to disobey orders, to neglect his soldier’s duty.

“I ought to remind you of the words you pledged, the contract you signed? We’re bound to this country, whether we like it or not. Bein’ a turncoat would be a disgrace to you, to your f—” He caught himself just in time. He was going to say family, but Maloney had no one. “To your countryfolk,” he said instead.

Maloney pointed to his branded forehead. “To perdition with the contract! They made pledges to us, too, didn’t they?” He pointed at a soldier a few cots away. “That German fella had his skull laid open with a sword because he’s ignorant of the English tongue and didn’t understand his commander’s orders. That Irish laddie is out of his senses, lashin’ on his bed because an officer bound him hand and foot and threw him into a filthy pond till he was nearly drowned. The Yanks won’t abide by their oaths, so why should we?”

“Because our vows ought to mean somethin’, and we must go through with what we’ve undertaken.”

Maloney spat on the ground. “I can honor the ones I make to Jesus and Saint Patrick then, eh? But the Yanks can kiss my arse. ’Tis a thousand pities I cannot swim a stroke, for if I could, I would be a Mexican soldier by now. And you, John Riley, you were once faithful to the sassenachs, and where has your obedience got ya, eh? What a misguided creature you are. Maybe one day you’ll learn where you belong.”

Riley stood to leave. “?’Tis folly to think things will be better over yonder, ould fella. I ought to know. As you say, I’ve been in two armies now, and they’re both the same. What in blazes makes you think ’twill be different with the Mexicans? I’ve not the least notion to trade what little I have now for a fate less certain. Now get yourself dressed. Captain Merrill expects ya for duty. And mind that you do it right this time.”

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