NELLIE WAS REGULARLY despatched to the abandoned houses and buildings they now controlled, running between Grafton Street towards Cuffe Street, hunkering down as she clambered through holes and dust and rubble with her messages, and also with rations for some of the men, who had nothing to eat.
Across Dublin city there were food shortages, with no bread, milk, meat or grocery deliveries. Business was at a standstill. Martial law had been declared by Lord Wimborne, the lord lieutenant. A British gunship had sailed up the River Liffey and, according to the despatches they received, was inflicting massive damage on Sackville Street, bombarding the area all around the GPO and Liberty Hall.
They cheered when reports came in that on Mount Street the Volunteers had attacked the Sherwood Foresters, a large contingent of British soldiers recently landed in Kingstown, as they marched along the route into the city, killing and wounding many. Despite this, more and more British troops were flooding into the city.
Low in food and ammunition, near midnight Michael Mallin and the countess sent Nellie and Chris Caffrey to Jacob’s Biscuit Factory garrison where MacDonagh was the leader.
‘The British are servicing their machine guns, so you may be able to get to Jacob’s,’ Mallin said.
Chris had dressed up in a black shawl and black veil, for all the world looking like a widowed allowance woman with a badge and corsage.
‘I found it in the bedroom of one of the houses and it’s a godsend for moving around the streets unnoticed,’ she explained. ‘Here, you put this on, Nellie.’
She passed Nellie a widow’s black felt hat and scarf.
Nellie tucked her hair up under the hat and wrapped the itchy woollen scarf around her shoulders and chest.
The college was in darkness as they left, as they could use barely any candlelight in case it attracted enemy attention or sniper fire. As they neared Jacob’s they spied a group of women hanging around on nearby Aungier Street, but fortunately the women ignored them. The factory was heavily barricaded, but walking around the back Chris gave the signal and code. A voice told them to get around to the north side, where a window was opened and strong arms reached down to pull them safely up into the factory.
Nellie was surprised to find that Maud Gonne’s former husband, Major John MacBride, was part of the garrison.
The biscuit factory was huge, spread out over a number of floors, the giant machinery silent. They were led to meet MacDonagh.
‘I see you’ve been under constant fire and attack from their heavy machine-gunners up on the roof. No wonder you need ammunition and more men and supplies,’ her brother-in-law sympathized as he read the despatch. ‘Ammunition we can help you with. Commandant Mallin wants me to release any Citizen Army men here to his garrison, which I will consider. Food-wise, I believe there are still some cakes and sacks of flour, but I’m not sure what use they are to you.’
Nellie indicated that she would be grateful to be shown and suddenly Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh, an actress friend of hers, appeared.
‘Nellie, we’ve some enormous sacks of flour and salt and baking powder, and some oats on the next floor,’ she explained as they walked around the factory. ‘But eggs, and most of the butter and a bit of milk that was left, are gone.’
Nellie noticed some dried fruit, desiccated coconut and chopped nuts.
‘We still have a few fruit cakes, but I warn you they seem to play havoc with the men’s stomachs. Most of the men prefer the plainer biscuits and crackers, but to tell the truth we are all getting mighty sick of them,’ Maire admitted. ‘Too much of a good thing.’
‘We’ll take anything you can spare,’ Nellie said, grateful for any nourishment she could bring back for their garrison.
As she returned to the main floor, Jack MacDonagh appeared, enquiring about the situation in the College of Surgeons as he led her back to his brother.
‘It is far too dangerous for you ladies to be out on the streets,’ MacDonagh said, trying to persuade them to stay with his garrison. ‘Muriel would kill me if I let anything happen to you, Nellie. I promise that I will send men with supplies to your garrison, but you two must stay with us here.’
‘We are expected back,’ replied Chris curtly, ‘with some ammunition and some food.’
‘MacDonagh, I know you are only thinking of our safety, but we have our orders from Commandant Mallin to return to the college,’ said Nellie. ‘We are needed there.’
As they prepared to leave, Major MacBride issued them with a supply of ammunition which they hid about their persons while Maire gave them some flour, dried fruits, tins of biscuits and cakes.
‘What have we here?’ jeered the supplementary women, appearing out of nowhere in the darkness of the street outside as they began to walk back to the college.
‘Brazen hussies!’ yelled a stout woman, her face red with anger.
‘We are decent widow women like yourselves, with hungry children,’ retorted Chris, standing her ground.
Before they knew it, two of their biscuit tins were given up to the women, who then grudgingly agreed to let them pass. But as they approached York Street Nellie became aware of footsteps following them again.
‘I told you – they’re Sinn Feiners,’ a voice shouted accusingly, as the supplementary women came chasing after them. Nellie and Chris ran as fast as they could. Reaching the side door of the college, they hammered frantically to be let in. A voice demanded the password before they were safe in its sanctuary.
True to his word, a few hours later MacDonagh sent a group of about fifteen of his men to their garrison with supplies of ammunition, heavy sacks of flour and cakes. Bill Oman, the young bugler who had sent them off only a few days earlier, was among them, following orders to stay and fight with Michael Mallin.
Exhausted, Nellie slept, but she was woken in the early hours by an absolute barrage of gunfire. They were under a massive attack. In the darkness their enemy had positioned another machine gun on the roof of the nearby University Church and had placed more snipers in position around them while they slept. They now had three heavy machine guns trained on them. Slowly and stealthily they were being surrounded. Nellie took her turn on duty a few hours later with some of the other women, all with their guns at the ready in front of the tall windows of the council room as the men were ordered to rest and, if possible, sleep.
Disaster struck when Margaret Skinnider, Bill Partridge and a small team were despatched to try to destroy the new enemy gun position by approaching from the Russell Hotel. They were spotted and young Fred Ryan was shot dead. Margaret was badly wounded too. Bleeding heavily, Bill and the other men somehow managed to carry her back to the college despite coming under intensive fire.
Nellie could see her friend had been seriously wounded by four bullets and was barely breathing. Madeleine ordered them to lay the young Scots woman gently on a bed in the Red Cross area as she examined her wounds. Commandant Mallin wanted to transfer her to one of the hospitals, but Margaret managed to indicate she did not want to go. The countess paced up and down, smoking and anxious, as the Red Cross women treated her. A huge closeness had grown between all the women of the garrison and none of them could bear to contemplate anything happening to their friend.
Rosie and the other women in the Red Cross area were rushed off their feet tending to the large number of casualties they had suffered. Margaret now lay among them, her face ashen, her body shivering and shaking with shock and blood loss.
Nellie brought a cup of hot tea to a shocked Bill, secretly wondering how much longer they would possibly be able to remain here, for, even though they had finally found the college’s hidden arsenal of sixty rifles, the situation in the garrison was worsening day by day.