The tension that had existed between the two McGrother men dissolved with James’s promise to put off selling his boat for one more year. The young fisherman was feeling much more positive as they drew close to shore, having being blessed by two good nights fishing in a row. As the crew of four dragged the vessel along the compacted sand, their wives and daughters gathered to gut and clean the fish. Maggie had turned up in place of Mary and James burst out laughing when he saw her waiting with a large wicker creel at her feet.
“And just what is it that you find so amusing?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“Maggie, I’m sorry for laughing. But you can’t seriously hope to carry a heavy creel of fish the two miles to Dundalk. You’ve grown soft in England these past ten years. The longest distance you have carried anything would be the washing to the clothesline in your back yard – and you’re not getting any younger either.”
The crowd around them laughed out loud as they carried on with their work. Maggie wasn’t sure which infuriated her more; her brother’s remarks about her fitness or her age.
“Here, Pat, throw me over those fish you are cleaning and I’ll wash them,” she said. “Anyone would think I was a gormless fool, the way my wee brother talks to me,” the wee being emphasized for the benefit of the audience.
When the fish were all cleaned and packed into the baskets, each of the women picked one up and headed for the road. James and Maggie were the last two left on the beach, Pat and the rest of the men having made a hasty retreat. They both reached for the creel at the same time and James got it first. Maggie tried to pull it from him and a tug of war developed between them.
“James, do you mean to walk like a fishwife into town, making a show of yourself?”
“Maggie, who do you think has been bringing the fish in these past two weeks?”
“Well then, why don’t we go together? You can take the creel from me if you see me stagger,” Maggie was half relieved for his offer. She wasn’t sure she would be able to keep up with the other women anyway.
“I’m only thinking of myself, Maggie. Sure by the time you arrive the fish will have tainted and nobody would buy it. The other women would be home and in bed and… oww… that hurt,” James rubbed his shin where she had kicked him.
The journey to Dundalk was a mix of pleasure and pain. Pleasure for James to reminisce with his older sister on memories of their childhood in Monaghan. Pain on Maggie’s part because she stubbornly refused to hand over the heavy creel to her brother until her back felt as if it was broken.
Early next morning, after another night of fishing, James was surprised to see Mary and Catherine waiting for them on the shore.
“Where’s Maggie?”
“Ah, James. The poor woman could hardly stand up straight last night. It’s worse she’ll be today, sure I hadn’t the heart to wake her,” said Mary. “Young Catherine here will be a great help, won’t you?”
The young girl smiled at her father and hoped he wouldn’t mention the fact that it was a school day. Thomas was helping the men with their nets while Mary-Anne picked up a fish every now and then to give it a kiss, which always got a laugh out of those who were busy preparing the catch for market.
“I suppose it won’t do any harm to miss one more day of learning, you go with your mammy so. I’ll make sure Thomas sets out in good time. Monday morning it’s back to school for the week, my girl. Do you hear me?” James used his sternest voice.
Catherine nodded and picked up the small creel that Pat had made for her. She was in the habit of going to Dundalk on Saturday mornings with her mother, even if they had no fish to sell. Going there on a school day made it all the more enjoyable. Sometimes they sold herbs from the plants in the garden, or berries when they were in season, making up for any lack of fish. Catherine loved the buzz of the town and the various sounds it produced. She suspected her mother did too, even though Mary complained about the crowds and the noise to the family on their return home.
There was a larger than usual gathering of people on the quayside that morning and Catherine asked her mother why so many of them were crying.
“That’s Reverend Faulkner’s girls being sent to America. He thinks he’s doing them a favour by finding them work in the big houses over there. Even though he means well, not all of them young ones will end up in good employment, mark my words,” replied Mary.
“Is that the man Daddy says is always taking young girls away?”
“It is, Catherine, and mind you don’t get any fancy ideas in your head about following them. There’s many a story about bad things happening to those girls, and before they even get off the ship at that.”
As they walked back home with the other women, Catherine thought about what her mother had said. Even though her parents were against so many young people leaving home, she had heard others talk about the great life that was waiting for them in America. She wondered what it would be like to sail on a boat so much bigger than her father’s and secretly vowed that one day she would find out.