NELLIE HASTENED HER pace, the Easter Monday trams already busy. She had not expected to encounter her sister Grace this morning of all mornings. Her sister may be engaged to Joe Plunkett, but Nellie found it hard to ascertain how much she knew of the planned Rising. Grace had always had a way of hiding what she was thinking or what she knew, which Nellie found exasperating. Grace got away with everything when she was a child as she always appeared uninvolved, able somehow to disguise her emotions, while the rest of them often got into trouble with Mother or their nanny.
How much had Joe actually told her? Yet Grace had given her the gun Joe had sent her, so she must have a definite sense that something was happening today. Perhaps Joe, whom Nellie knew was a member of the IRB’s Military Council and was deeply involved with planning the Rising, had deliberately kept things from Grace so that if she was arrested and questioned she would not be able to give much information to the DMP or the army.
At Liberty Hall, a number of men stood outside in the sunshine guarding the building and she could smell breakfast being cooked for those who had stayed overnight. She doubted they had got much sleep, so she went to work serving tea and bread, and helping make sandwiches. Tom Clarke, Padraig Pearse, Sean Mac Diarmada and James Connolly were talking together, grim-faced, as small groups of men willing to fight began to appear. MacDonagh and his brother Jack were there too.
Nellie watched as members of the Volunteers, the Citizen Army and the Cumann na mBan women gradually began to assemble. James Connolly looked serious as he moved among them; he had his fifteen-year-old son, Roddy, with him. His daughters Nora and Ina had been despatched to the north with messages for the garrisons there, telling them to rise up. Commandant Mallin had stayed overnight with most of the Citizen Army men and now went around talking and encouraging them as they began to get organized. Nellie set about helping as they cut bread on a slicing machine and issued rations of bread and meat to all the men and women. She checked the remaining food – sandwiches, scones, tea, crackers and other provisions were all ready for transport to the different garrisons.
Today it’s for real, she thought as she felt the gun heavy against her hip.
Dr Kathleen Lynn was busy supervising all the first aid supplies and with a few helpers was issuing everyone with a personal first aid kit. Rosie Hackett had been assigned to work with Madeleine ffrench-Mullen and was given a long white coat with a red cross.
‘It’s a bit big!’ she laughed, for she was small and it came down to her heels; she quickly had to set about shortening it.
Nellie’s mouth felt strangely dry as she checked all the last-minute supplies, so she sipped a cup of water. Margaret Skinnider came over to have a chat.
‘Today’s the day,’ she said quietly, her gun and ammunition at the ready.
Suddenly Nellie saw Joe arriving with Mick Collins and another man, both of them helping him walk. Connolly and Pearse went over and greeted him warmly. She could not disguise her surprise: she had thought Joe was still in hospital. He looked wretched and had some sort of scarf or bandage wrapped around his throat. He was carrying what looked like a Japanese sword.
She went over to see him and he told her that, although he was still recovering from his operation, he was determined to play his part. He introduced her to Captain William Brennan-Whitmore, a former army man who had come up from Wexford. She was relieved to see that he had Mick Collins by his side too, keeping a protective watch over him. Joe disappeared upstairs to Connolly’s room with no one, not even Countess Markievicz, allowed to disturb them.
Later there was a flurry in the middle of the hall as Joe’s two younger brothers appeared.
‘We came by tram – I paid for tickets for everyone,’ George Plunkett laughed, followed into the hall by a group of about forty Volunteers who lived and trained at Larkfield. ‘But Jack’s come on the motorbike and a few lads cycled.’
‘The day we all have waited for and trained for is finally here!’ Bill Partridge said solemnly as he surveyed the group.
Liberty Hall was filling up, but it was very clear even to Nellie that far fewer people than yesterday had turned up prepared to fight. James Connolly and Padraig Pearse appeared, standing together to address the group, and announced that today the members of the Irish Volunteers and the Citizen Army would fight together as one force, one army – the Irish Republican Army.
MacDonagh nodded over to say goodbye as he and his brother left for where the 2nd Battalion was to mobilize. As the various companies began to assemble outside Liberty Hall, Nellie’s head was filled with thoughts of what lay ahead and the impossible odds they were facing with such reduced numbers, but like everyone else she was prepared to fight, to play her part in taking the city.
James Connolly, as his eyes roved over the gathering, confided to one of his men that he feared they would be slaughtered. By twenty to twelve it was clear that the full quota of those willing to participate in the Rising were present, perhaps about four hundred or so, and they could wait no longer. Glancing around, Tom Clarke was clearly worried by the numbers too.
‘We should have gone yesterday,’ he said, shaking his head in disappointment. ‘We’ve lost the advantage of numbers.’
Nellie was relieved to see so many stalwarts of the Citizen Army ready to do their part. Margaret Skinnider, who was on a bicycle, was sent on ahead of them to scout their route. Captain Kit Poole ordered bugler Bill Oman to sound the command to fall in and Michael Mallin ordered them into formation, ready to move out.
She observed as the other garrisons left. Captain Richard McCormick’s small troop went first – they had been ordered to Harcourt Street station; then Sean Connolly and his men, who were headed for Dublin Castle. Everyone was strangely silent: there was no waving to comrades or calls of goodbye or good luck, and it gave Nellie a sense of the gravity of their mission. James Connolly, Padraig Pearse, Joe and Captain Brennan-Whitmore led the next garrison off. She watched as Mick Collins, Connolly’s young son, the Plunkett brothers and their large contingent left Liberty Hall for Sackville Street, with Tom Clarke and Sean Mac Diarmada, who had a bad limp, driven there by motor vehicle.
Then it was their turn. Commandant Michael Mallin gave the signal and Nellie and her garrison left Liberty Hall and began to march proudly from Beresford Place up along the quays.