Rebel Sisters (37 page)

‘All men up on the roof,' ordered Mallin, barely looking around. He was convinced the enemy would now mount a full-scale attack on the medical college.

Nellie was struck by an awful smell that permeated the area as they pushed into the nearby anatomy room. The long, bright room, with its tall windows and high ceiling, was laid out with table after table for the medical students. Nellie's stomach lurched at the strange, sickly-sweet smell. Around them jars filled with thick fluid containing various parts of the human body filled her with disgust, and there were large, detailed, coloured-wax figures of the human anatomy minus skin, which were terrifying.

‘The smell is formaldehyde,' explained Madeleine. ‘They use it for preserving bodies.'

‘Ugh!' grimaced Nellie, Rosie and the other women, feeling nauseous.

‘And don't go near the end of the room, for I think there is a cadaver stored on ice that the students use to practise their skills.'

Passing through the large entrance hall of the college, the towering statue of William Dease, the founder of the college and its first professor of surgery, stared down at them, and other busts of famous medical men looked on benignly as the college was transformed into a garrison for the Irish Republican Army. The heavy front of the building was now locked and heavily barricaded. Countess Markievicz and Frank Robbins had managed to gain access when the porter, Mr Duncan, who had already locked up the building against them, opened the door a fraction to warn an elderly professor that the college was shut. She and two scouts had seized the opportunity, managing to force their way into the building by threatening to shoot the porter.

They swiftly blocked up the windows of the entrance hall with piles of heavy books and medical tomes before moving upstairs and quickly searching through the building. Some of the men crouched down on their knees, their rifles at the ready, in front of the tall windows of the big council room, which stretched across the front of the building. It gave them a clear view not only of the park but of the Shelbourne Hotel, the position of their enemy.

Off this room was the college hall, which was used for lectures and classes. Commandant Mallin declared that it would serve as the men's quarters, as it was a spacious, high-ceilinged room with circular glass skylights but not as exposed as some others. A canvas screen used by the tutors hung near the back of the hall, dividing the room, and Madeleine chose the far side of it as a makeshift first aid hospital area. All the windows around them were barricaded, using desks, books, wooden benches and shelves.

Searching down in the basement they discovered only a small kitchen, the larder shelves almost bare, for the college and its students were on holidays. Nellie explored further, finding a large classroom with an open grate which could be used for cooking.

The porter, his wife and child had been imprisoned in a bedroom in their living quarters, the rest of the porter's accommodation commandeered for use as the women's sleeping quarters. Nellie found sugar, a little flour, tea, a big drum of porridge oats and a few large tins of cocoa powder – provisions that she suspected were for the college porter or staff.

‘There's no food here. What will we do?' Lily asked, dismayed.

‘We have some bread from yesterday and most people still have some rations left. Let's fill these big kettles with water and set them to boil. At least we can make some tea and cocoa for everyone and use these two big pots to make some porridge.'

‘We'll need to get food supplies somewhere tomorrow,' said Kathleen, sounding worried.

The constant noise of gunfire and shelling went on and on without any reprieves or lull as the Vickers heavy machine gun and the one on the roof of the United Services Club rapidly spat out hundreds of rounds of ammunition. The sound filled their heads and unnerved them. Up on the roof their snipers, armed with only simple rifles, were busy returning fire all through the day. Margaret had gone up on the roof with them, hiding in a hole and taking careful aim as she calmly targeted the army snipers; she took a few of them out. The din was horrendous as bullets rained down and across at them. One of their men, Mick, was badly hit in the face and had to be lifted gingerly down from the roof, which was very dangerous. Bill Partridge too was injured and they bandaged up his head. Then one of their guns accidentally went off and shot one of their men in the eye. Madeleine, afraid that he would die, insisted he be taken to the nearby hospital.

Everyone was worn out, but there was no chance to rest or take a break. Nellie knew that they would have to be fed, so she and Mary set about making up two huge pots of porridge, cooking them over the grate in the classroom as she and the other women prepared to feed their hungry garrison.

‘We're parched up there on the roof, with the heat of the guns,' reported one of their snipers who'd come down to the kitchen to get water as all their own water bottles were empty. Nellie helped him to refill them while he told her about how intense the fighting and din and smoke were up on the narrow roof.

At last, as it got darker, the enemy firing eased off, both sides exhausted.

‘They're servicing the machine guns, getting ready for tomorrow's attack,' Commandant Mallin stated, ordering most of his own men to take a rest.

In the hall Nellie and the other women served bowls of piping-hot porridge laced with sugar, along with mugs of hot cocoa and tea to the men, making them sit and rest for a while.

‘That's the best porridge I've ever had,' declared a pale-faced young man, his eyes red-rimmed with lack of sleep as he licked his bowl clean.

‘Well, you deserve it,' Nellie told him with a smile, wishing that she'd had a little milk or cream to add to it.

Commandant Mallin, a true soldier, had in his usual organized army fashion set up duty rosters, insisting that some of the men rest before going back on duty in the middle of the night.

‘Falling asleep with a rifle up on the roof is not an option,' he warned. His army training meant that he always kept discipline, making it clear to all of them that he would not tolerate sloppiness or disorder in his garrison.

Nellie's eyes were feeling heavy, and once they had collected and washed up all the bowls and cups she was determined tonight to try to get a little sleep herself.

ISABELLA ADJUSTED HER
hat as she got ready to leave the house on Tuesday. She was meeting Dorothy for lunch but had a few things she must do first. She needed skeins of embroidery thread and ribbon, new stockings, a bottle of syrup of figs and some corn plasters from the pharmacy.

Liebert had just arrived downstairs and was asking Julia to cook him some bacon and kidney.

‘I won't be home for lunch,' she reminded her, ‘as I am going into town.'

‘Mother, I'm not sure you should venture into town today. There was terrible trouble yesterday,' Liebert warned her. ‘The Sinn Feiners have taken over parts of the city – the GPO, City Hall, perhaps even Dublin Castle itself. There were no trams or carriages last night. The army had tried to attack and take the rebels on Sackville Street but had come under heavy fire and had to retreat.'

‘Mam, I heard they were fighting on the street,' added Julia dramatically. ‘Shooting at each other.'

‘Who would do such a thing?'

‘The soldiers say it is the Volunteers and the Citizen Army – that lot from Liberty Hall where Nellie works that are behind this,' her son explained.

‘Why would they do this while we are at war?' Isabella asked, perturbed.

‘Because the war provides the perfect opportunity for the rebels to strike against Britain,' he said bitterly. ‘They have declared an Irish Republic.'

‘What nonsense!'

Isabella could not believe that such a thing could happen in Dublin, the second city of the empire. She was sure that her son and maid were exaggerating. Annoyed that her plans for the day were now in disarray, she returned to the hallway and took off her coat.

‘They say Padraig Pearse and James Connolly, the union man, are behind it,' Liebert continued slowly, ‘but I suspect Muriel's husband may be involved too. He's a friend of Mr Pearse's, isn't he?'

‘MacDonagh would not do such a thing! You must be mistaken, Liebert.'

‘Perhaps …'

She tried to persuade herself that her son's information must be wrong. Her son-in-law was a respected university lecturer and surely would not involve himself in such an endeavour.

‘What will happen to these rebels?'

‘The army will regroup and I'm sure send fresh reinforcements from Britain today or tomorrow. The Sinn Feiners will not be able to hold out for long against such a force. I promise you they will all be captured and taken.'

‘Your father must not hear one word of this,' she declared. ‘I will not have him distressed.'

Liebert agreed before sauntering into the drawing room.

Isabella went upstairs immediately to ask her daughters about all this – to find out exactly what they knew of this so-called rebellion.

To her dismay, Grace's room was empty, and when she went to Nellie's bedroom it was clear she had not returned to sleep there last night.

Isabella sat on Nellie's empty bed, torn between anger and a deep fear at the idea that any of her family might be involved in such an act of treason against His Majesty and his forces. She would not tolerate such a thing. What if her daughters were part of this Sinn Fein rebellion?

MURIEL HAD BARELY
slept, for MacDonagh had not returned home on Monday and she had had no word of his whereabouts.

Grace had told her how she had seen Joe, Padraig and James Connolly with the Volunteers and the Citizen Army taking over the GPO and setting up barricades around Sackville Street. Surely MacDonagh must be there too, somewhere in the Post Office, fighting with his men. It was rumoured that they had also taken St Stephen's Green and other parts of the city, but the British had them under heavy fire. Min Ryan had called to the house and told her that she'd been in the GPO to try to talk to her boyfriend Sean Mac Diarmada but hadn't seen him and intended returning.

Martial law had been declared and there were no trams. A strange confusion about events hung across the city, with people avoiding going out.

Don wanted her to play with him but she had no mind or heart for it as she worried about her husband. She had to see him, try to talk to him. She must go into town herself to try to find out what was happening. Mary could mind the children. If she let Grace know where she was going, she suspected that her sister would insist on coming too. But Muriel needed to go alone and talk to him.

The baby had gone down for a nap and Mary was busy playing with her small son and his box of coloured wooden blocks as Muriel grabbed her light coat and a hat and slipped outside. It was a bright, warm spring day and the DMP man was still standing across from their house on Oakley Road, watching it as usual. She was tempted to wave at him defiantly, but today she wanted no trouble. She had her shopping basket on her arm as if she were just going to get some food for her family. Head down, she kept walking purposefully towards Ranelagh and the local shops, hoping that no one was trailing her.

Passing Mount Pleasant, she just kept walking, crossing the canal, going along Charlemont Street and up Camden Street. She would take the back streets, avoiding the crowds, as she hastened her pace. Around Dublin Castle and City Hall could be dangerous – perhaps the Volunteers held them too? She would take another shortcut which would bring her out across Dame Street and from there make her way through the winding cobbled streets which ran towards the Liffey, then across the river and up by Liffey Street towards the back of the General Post Office.

As Muriel got nearer, she could see that the streets were covered in broken glass from the shop windows that had been smashed or riddled with bullets. Shop doors were gaping open, their stock gone, taken by the looting crowds that roamed the streets. Men, women and children, all laden down with their booty of clothes, bed linen, shoes and luxuries. The children carried bats, kites and balls from Lawrence's toy shop, which now lay empty. She passed women flaunting their finery in silk dresses, sporting expensive coloured shawls, wraps and furs, all purloined from the city centre's shops.

‘What are you looking at, missus?' growled a drunken old woman wearing a pretty pink hat with a feather in it and carrying a big white lace tablecloth and a silver teapot. ‘These are all mine.'

‘I'm sorry, I'm just trying to find some food for my family,' she said, praying that the woman wouldn't turn on her and block her path.

The woman hesitated.

‘I've two small children and my husband is away,' Muriel pleaded, lifting her basket. ‘I have to find something for them to eat.'

‘Good luck to ye. Take what you need from the shops is what we say.' The woman stepped aside, her two friends nodding in agreement.

As she got nearer Muriel could hear gunfire, the noise loud and shocking. One person would shoot, then another. Then there came a barrage of shots. She could hear shouting. As she approached the magnificent General Post Office building she could see that many of its windows were broken. Then she saw the barricades across different streets to block British soldiers from approaching the GPO. One was made of bicycles and wire, another of heavy clocks stacked one on another. A dead horse lay on the ground further up, its legs stiff, its congealed blood spattered on the street. Poor animal, it was awful – would no one take it away? Muriel kept her head down, conscious that there must be snipers high up in most of the buildings on both sides of the wide expanse of Sackville Street, with no telling which building was held by the Volunteers and which by the British. The large, heavy front door of the Post Office was locked firmly, so she darted around the side of the building hoping to find some other entrance. Perhaps she could get admittance through the rear.