AN AIR OF desperation hung darkly over their garrison on Sunday morning as their isolated situation became clearer. Heavy military cordons and barricades were now set up across most of the city, and they were hopelessly outnumbered by the British military. From the flames and smoke they suspected that the headquarters at the GPO and much of Sackville Street were most likely destroyed. They had no communication or despatches about the safety of their leaders, James Connolly, Tom Clarke and Padraig Pearse.
Yesterday they had managed to get some food, including flour, sugar and eggs from a pastry shop, and a large piece of bacon which they had served to their hungry and exhausted fighters. As they eked out the last of their provisions Nellie suspected they might be starved out of their garrison.
A knock on the York Street door was answered to Nurse Elizabeth O’Farrell. This time, instead of bearing bread, Elizabeth was grim-faced. She was waving a white flag of surrender and carrying orders from General Lowe, commander of the British forces, for Michael Mallin.
She was led inside and told that the commandant was sleeping, but that Countess Markievicz was next in command. When the countess was handed the typewritten order by Nurse O’Farrell it was clear that she was shocked. She went off immediately to discuss it with Commandant Mallin.
Nellie watched anxiously, presuming that the order from the British general demanded some kind of offer of a truce or surrender.
Elizabeth was upset as she told them that the GPO and much of Sackville Street had been destroyed by fire. James Connolly had been shot and badly wounded, but most of the main garrison had escaped safely through the lanes to Moore Street. However, surrounded by the army and with many innocent men, women and children being caught up in the fighting, on Saturday afternoon Padraig Pearse had ordered surrender.
The commandant appeared, his face drained of colour as he told Nurse O’Farrell that he had read the general’s order but that he could not give her his immediate answer to bring to Major de Courcy-Wheeler as he needed to consult with the countess and his officers. Elizabeth returned to the major with this response.
Nellie could see despair and disbelief in the eyes of those around her as the news spread that Padraig Pearse, James Connolly and general headquarters had surrendered and had now ordered that all the other garrisons surrender too in order to avoid further slaughter of innocent people and to save the lives of their men.
Countess Markievicz sat with her head in her hands, devastated by the news of the surrender of the other garrisons. Everyone was heartbroken at the prospect of accepting defeat and surrendering themselves to a British major. Some of the women began crying.
Messengers were sent to all the outposts, ordering their men to return to the college for a meeting. The hall was silent as their commandant stood up.
‘Commandants James Connolly and Padraig Pearse have ordered us to lay down our arms and surrender to the British,’ Michael Mallin told them. ‘We will now obey this order by James Connolly to surrender.’
All around Nellie men shook their heads angrily. Some eyes filled with tears.
‘We should not surrender.’
‘We should fight on.’
Many begged the commandant to be allowed to continue the fight, no matter how hopeless it appeared; others objected, refusing to accept surrender. The countess and Bill Partridge talked to them quietly, telling them that they must obey Connolly’s orders.
Bill Partridge stood shoulder to shoulder with Michael Mallin, his arm around his commandant, as he broke the news, reading the order again to the men returning from the outposts, unable to hide the fact that he too was deeply upset.
‘We have fought the good fight, but now the fight is over and all garrisons are to obey orders from the command to surrender,’ he said firmly.
Madeleine explained the situation to the wounded and made the decision that Margaret, who was still desperately ill, must be evacuated to hospital before the British forces came for them.
Michael Mallin ordered men to go up on the roof and take down the tricolour flag of Ireland, which had flown there so proudly over the college. They all stood silent and sombre, looking at the flag when it was brought down, but Commandant Mallin was determined that the British would not get their hands on it.
He and the countess came over to Margaret and, with Madeleine’s help, carefully wrapped the Irish flag and hid it inside the injured woman’s long coat. Determined still to help, Margaret was again carrying another precious secret cargo for them. Nellie squeezed her hand as they said goodbye and a group of men lifted Margaret gently on to a stretcher, carrying her down the stairs and out of the building to a waiting ambulance which took her to the nearby hospital.
The commandant urged them to return home, encouraging some of the men to dress in civilian clothes taken from the houses they had occupied and so hide their identity. A few men talked of escaping to the Dublin Mountains, where at least they could continue their fight for freedom.
‘If any of the good ladies present wishes to flee to safety, now is the time,’ Mallin advised.
Nellie could see that, after all they had been through, the women were not prepared to be separated from the rest of their garrison. They were as much a part of the rebellion as the group of over a hundred men and they had no intention of changing their loyalties now. She had never imagined such a scene of calamity, regret and sadness.
They surrendered at midday. Commandant Michael Mallin ordered them to put down all weapons and assemble. A white flag was raised over the roof of the College of Surgeons to signal the surrender of their garrison.
Michael Mallin shook everyone by the hand, his face pale and haggard as he thanked them for their loyalty and service. He told the captains and officers to join the rest of the ranks so that they could not be singled out for punishment when the British arrived.
He and Countess Markievicz agreed to surrender when Major de Courcy-Wheeler and another officer entered the building. Mallin called the garrison to attention as he presented his own sword to the major. Countess Markievicz defiantly kissed her gun before handing it over. The major admitted his surprise at how few men and women had served in the garrison: he had expected to find at least another hundred.
Soldiers surrounded them as they left the building with a blanket each and began to march in formation. Nellie’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked back and caught sight of the white flag now flying from the roof of the College of Surgeons.
A huge crowd had gathered outside to witness their surrender, most people booing, hissing and cursing as soon as they caught sight of them.
‘Hold your heads erect,’ William Partridge told them as they stepped outside and were immediately surrounded by the hostile crowd. The countess, dressed in her Citizen Army tunic, riding breeches and flamboyant hat with its ostrich feather, attracted huge attention.
Onlookers flung rubbish, pelting them with rotting vegetables and potato skins. Only a few wished them well, saying they would pray for them. They marched on, Nellie hurt and shamefaced by the reaction of their fellow Dubliners to their valiant attempt to gain Irish Freedom.
As they walked down Grafton Street the crowds got bigger, the supplementary women baying at them like a pack of hounds ready for blood.
‘They should be shot.’
‘They’ve destroyed the city.’
‘Bayonet the traitors!’
Nellie refused to cry and give in to their intimidation as they shoved and jostled to try to get at them. The army soldiers, arms at the ready, were now actually protecting them from the massing hostile groups who threatened them.
On Dame Street they met a cohort of the Dublin Fusiliers, just returned from fighting in the war, who jeered and taunted them as they arrived at Dublin Castle.
There they were ordered to Richmond Barracks to join the rest of the rebels.
Nellie, Mary Hyland and Rosie Hackett worried about what lay ahead. Rosie suspected that the leaders of the rebellion might possibly be hanged or transported to some far-flung British colony.
Nellie’s heart sank as she saw Michael Mallin, their stalwart commandant, being separated from his group of men and led off somewhere on his own. The countess was also singled out, a flicker of fear flitting across her thin face as she too was marched away.
‘Those two are for it now!’ one of the soldiers laughed loudly.