Youghal Historian Mike Hackett

Sailors and Seamen of Youghal who lost their lives to the water. 

My thanks to Mike Hackett  , Youghal's great historian for compiling this. Some of the sailing vessels which I have attached are un-named at present.


Captain Fleming of Youghal died on the schooner ‘Hertford’ when it
 shipwrecked on the Wexford coast in 1882. It was owned by local merchants
Flemings and the captain was one of the family.

 James Butler of Windmill Hill also died on the schooner ‘Hertford’. James
was actually a baker by trade and this was his first voyage. Patrick
 McCarthy and Seaman Bennett, both of Youghal, were also lost in that
 incident.

 Walter William Burke of Hanover Street contracted Yellow Fever on the
 Tall-Ship ‘Melanope’ in 1894. He died at sea and the vessel brought the body
 into Rio-De-Janeiro, Brazil, where he is buried.

 Miko Loughlin of the Mall died on the schooner William S. Green, shipwrecked
 on the Devon Coast in 1904. Danny Coakley of North Main Street and Tommy
 Walsh of Mary Street also died then on the William S. Green.

The William S.Green

 Jack Smyth of Flemimgs Court, Tallow Street, died on the ‘Annette’ when she
 went onto the rocks below Youghal Lighthouse in 1905. Captain Kirby of
 Dungarvan died on the same occasion.

 Patrick McCarthy of Mouse Street caught a disease on a brigantine, died, and
 was buried in Archangel in Russia. He was grandfather of the late Noel
 Donoghue of Cross Lane.
 Paddy O’Brien of Ballyvergan was lost overboard from the destroyer ‘Cossack’
at Ayr in Scotland, in 1919. He slipped on a steep gangway and hit his head
 on the quay-wall.

Captain Patrick O’Brien of Strand Street, died of blood poisoning on the
‘B.I.’ at Runcorn, Merseyside in 1914, at the age of 32.

Martin Bland of Church Street died on ship in 1920 and was buried in Aruba
 in the Dutch Carribean. He was father of the late George Bland of O’Rahilly
 Street.

James Duggan of Church Lane, in an attempt to rescue a fellow sailor,

 was drowned while the schooner ‘Elizabeth Drew’ was berthed at New Ross in
 1933.

 William Perrott of Wales was drowned in 1933 while attempting to swim ashore
 from the ketch ‘Daisy’ while it was moored in Upper Youghal Harbour. There
 is a memorial to William chiselled into the rock near Youghal Lighthouse and
he is buried in Templemichael graveyard.

 Tommy Smyth of the Alms Houses was lost overboard at Rouen in france in
 1933.

William John Coleman of Quay Lane died aboard ship in 1936 on the way to
 Australia. He was buried at sea.

 Captain Michael Duggan of Church Street was lost on the ‘Nellie Fleming’
 which foundered without trace between the Bristol Channel and Youghal in
 February 1936. Also lost on the same vessel were: Batty Glavin, on the way
 home to his daughter’s wedding; Eddie Sullivan of Raheen Road on his first
 voyage as cabin boy; Dan Kenneally of The Mall, father of a large family;
and Declan Doyle of Penders Lane, eighteen years of age.

 William Ring of 135 North Main Street was lost overboard in Cardiff Docks in
1937. Having managed to hold onto a rope all night, he died the following
 morning from exposure.

John Doyle from Gallagher Terrace fell overboard while on a voyage to
 Australia in 1938. He was a brother to Declan Doyle, lost on the ‘Nellie
Fleming’ two years earlier.

 Connie Troy of Windmill Hill was electrocuted while repairing his fishing
boat at Cobh in 1946.

 Michael O’Regan of South Cross Road was serving in the Irish Naval Service
 on the ‘L.E. Cliona’ in 1952. He took ill on board, was brought to hospital
 but sadly died at just eighteen.

 Patrick Sullivan of South Cross Road, was lost overboard at
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne in 1962.

 Teddy Murphy of Kent Street, was struck down with appendicitis at sea in
 1962 on the ship ‘Ordinance’. He died in Dunkirk hospital.

 Tom Paul Ring of Sarsfield Terrace and Joey Gaule of Mall Lane died while
 asleep in their bunks on the ‘Irish Sycamore’ as it lay docked in New
 Orleans in 1965. Smoke inhalation was the cause of death when a fire started
in an empty cabin next door.

 Gerry Griffin of Brown Street, was lost overboard from the ‘Mossville’ while
 berthed at Cork in 1967. It was said that a plank gangway collapsed.

 Noel O’Brien of De Valera Street died when he fell overboard from a dredger
 on the river Thames in 1968.

Joe Higgins of Strand Street fell between vessel and quay at Greenock in
 Scotland in 1970 and was drowned. The ship was the ‘M.V. St. William’.

 Timothy J. Harnedy from Inchiquin, Killeagh was drowned in 1982 while
swimming at Bondi Beach in Australia. Ted was the ship’s radio officer and
was on leave, awaiting a plane home.
 James Jessie Collins of Raheen Road, died on the tanker ‘Rathcoyle’ in 1994.
Asleep in his bunk, while docked at Ellesmere Port near Chester, he died of
a heart attack.

Fishermen who died in River, Harbour and Bay tragedies.
 James Hannigan of Wesley Place, drowned when a salmon yawl overturned in
Youghal Harbour in 1886. Connie Glavin of Greens Quay was also lost in that
 disaster.

Two Flaherty brothers and two Mulcahy brothers of Monatrea, were drowned
 when their salmon boat capsized at Mangans Cove in 1887.

 Four men were drowned near the Metal Bridge in 1892 when their salmon yawl
 turned over. They were Maurice Keogh, Maurice Fleming, William Keating and
 John White -- all were from Ardsallagh. They were using a dipping-lug sail
 at the time with which it was hard to change tack.

The Kathleen & May

John Hogan of Ardsallagh went for a swim in 1916 at the High Rock near
 Fleming’s Ferry, between fishing the tides., and it cost him his life. He
had his passage booked to America and a tailor named Bride in Youghal was
 making a suit of clothes for him.

 Tommy Smith of Primrose Lane, was drowned in Youghal Harbour in 1923 when
his salmon boat captized. With him and also lost were Pats Murray of
 Monatrea and Tom Aher of Porters Lane. Saved that day was Mike Hannigan, who
 was Cox of the local lifeboat for years.

 Bob Foley of Water treet was drowned when another salmon boat turned over in
 1927. Also lost then were Declan Kenure of Windmill Lane and Jim Boland of
Water Street.

Then in 1933, yet another salmon yawl capsized on the river. Drowned that
 day were Johnny Brennan of The Mall and Tommy Truxie Griffin of Mill Road.
 Rescued were Tommy Muta Heaphy and Mike O’Neill.

 Mick O’Brien-Stokes of Sarsfield Terrace died of a heart attack in his boat
 while fishing down the harbour in 1949.

 Paddy Barry of Ceann a Bhotair (Redbarn) received severe head injuries when
 injuries in hospital.

 Declan Hannon of South Main Street was lost overboard from a fishing boat in
 Waterford Harbour in 1972.

 Danny Twohig of Blackwater Heights suffered a heart attack while hauling his
 nets on the river in 1992. He died in the boat.

 Lost at War

 Richard Ahern of Youghal, died when the ‘H.M.S. Goliah’ was sunk in 1915.

 William Patrick Nolan of Brown Street, died in the sinking of ‘H.M.S.
 Defence’ in 1916.


Michael Mulcahy of Ardmore was killed when the ‘H.M.S. Indefatigable’ was
 sunk in 1916.

 Maurice McGrath of the Clock Gate, died on the ‘H.M.S. Davis’ in 1917.

 John Hyde of the Ferrypoint, died when the ‘H.M.S. Cornwall’ went down in
 1918.

When the ‘H.M.S. Laurentic’ hit a minefield off Malin Head near Derry in
 1917, it cost the lives of four Youghal sailors. They were: Patrick Brennan
 and John Buckley, both of The Mall; William Lynch, Buckley’s Lane; and Jacky
 O’Brien, Windmill Lane.

 William Glavin of Windmill Hill was lost when the minesweeper ‘Mignonette’
 was torpedoed off the Cork coast in 1917.

 Tommy Stack of South Cross Road, Miley Long of Water Street and Jack Murphy
 of South Main Street died in 1940 when the aircraft carrier ‘H.M.S.
 Glorious’ was sunk by battle cruisers in the North Sea.

 Brendan Murphy of Market square and William Kirby of The Mall died on the
 cruiser ‘H.M.S. Gallatea’ when it was torpedoed and sunk off Alexandria in
 1941. It sank in ninety seconds.
 Two more Youghal men died when the battleship ‘H.M.S. Barham’ was torpedoed
and sunk off Alexandria in 1941. They were Jerry Connolly of Cork Hill and
 Bobby Webster of Sarsfield Terrace. The two men were stokers down below and
had little chance of escape following the four torpedo hits.

 Tommy Roche of Water Street died when the armed trawler ‘Lincoln City’ was
 sunk in the North Atlantic in 1941. He is buried on the Faroe Islands.

 Jimmy Walsh of Raheen Road lost his life early during the Second World War
when his ship, a merchantman, was sunk by a torpedo. It is said that in his
 house was a picture of a sailor returning home with his bag over his
 shoulder and his family running to greet him. On the night that Jimmy died
 at sea, the picture fell off the wall for no apparent reason -- the cord had
 not broken and the nail was still firmly stuck in the wall.

 Bill Kelly of Market Square was killed when his vessel, the ‘Swiftpool’ was
 bombed while moored on the Thames river.
Maurice Cooney of Kent Street, on another merchantman, was killed by U boat
 action in 1941.
 Tommy Mulcahy of Market Square died on the ‘Kingston Hill’ after it was
 torpedoed in 1941. He was engaged to be married.

 John Ronayne of South Cross Road was in the merchant navy and was lost as a
 result of U boat action early in the war.

 Edward Fowkes of Ashe Street was on the ‘Shakespeare’ during an aircraft
 attack on the ship. He was killed on deck.

 Peter Lynch of Church Street lost his life when ‘S.S. Milos’ was torpedoed
 and sunk in 1942. His parents later lived in the house which had been the
Fever Hospital at Raheen Road.

 Alfie Hartnett of Barrys Lane was on the ‘Irish Pine’ when it was sunk by
 U-608 in the North Atlantic in 1942. The ‘Irish Pine’ was clearly showing
 neutral markings and was lit up to show the Irish connection. It was a bad
 decision on the part of the U boat captain.

Connie Glavin of Cork Hill died when his vessel the ‘S.S. Miriam

 Thomas’ was run over by an American troop ship in the Irish Sea. There was
 no survivor from Connie’s ship after that calamity.

 Eddie Glavin of Cork Hill, Connie’s brother, died when his ship was
torpedoed, just three days out of New Zealand, in 1943.

 Michael Lynch of Kent Street fell ill on board his ship ‘S.S. British
Renown’ in 1944 and died. He is buried on the Isle of Wight.

 Paddy McGrath of Strand Street died when the ‘S.S. Empire Heritage’ was sunk
by a mine in 1944. He had earlier survived two sinkings by torpedo in the
 North Atlantic
 Captain William O’Brien of The Mall was drowned when he fell overboard at
 Greens Quay from the ‘Rob Roy’ in 1900. It seems that he had been asleep in
his bunk for awhile before he awoke to find the ship ranging (beginning to
 tug) at her ropes due to a build-up of sea swell. A storm was imminent!
 William got up to adjust the fenders of the vessel, ensuring that it would
 not damage itself against the quay wall. Tragically, in the process, he fell
 overboard and was drowned.

 Another Captain, William Jones of Friar Street, was lost from the ‘S.S.’
 Athena’ as the vessel navigated the Majellan Straits in Southern Argentina.
 It happened in 1904, ten years before the opening of the Panama Canal. At
 that time, the only way from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic for large
 ships was around Cape Horn, or via the nearby Majellan Straits for smaller
 ones.
 When the ‘Hiland Mar’ went onto the rocks at Ardo Head near Ardmore in 1894,
 it cost the lives of two Youghal sailors. They were named as seamen Bennet
 and Fenton and both were from the Windmill Hill area. The ‘Hiland Mar’ was
 carrying steel for an extension to the Youghal Brickworks on that ill-fated
 voyage. The skipper -- Captain Nagle of The Mall -- escaped by climbing the
 cliffs to reach the nearby house of the Terry family.
 In the second half of the last century, two disasters in Ardmore cost the lives of four of their salmon fishermen. On both occasions, the boats
 overturned. Lost to the sea in 1982 were: Liam Lincoln and Tom Morrissey of
 Ardmore.
Then in 1995 cousins Paul Dunne and Edmond Fitzgerald also died in similar
 circumstances when they were drowned while salmon fishing at Ardmore.

 The total number listed here ( and this may not be complete ) is
 ninety-four.

 God grant peace to all their souls.

Sailors and Fishermen of Ardmore and Youghal remembered

A full-of-colour religious ceremony took place at the Youghal Parish Church when the annual Mass was said last Saturday for all the mariners lost to the water.

Uniforms were in abundance with the Irish Naval Service well represented. Also in attendance were the local Coastguard Service and the Royal National Lifeboat crew. The Mass was said by Canon Tom Browne, assisted by Fr. Denis Herlihy, recently retired back from England.

Another attractive and emotional aspect of the ceremony was the sea-shanty songs and music provided by members of the Lifeboat and Navy. Local historian and author Maurice Ahern, whose forefathers were sailors and fishermen, gave the homily and included a few lovely poems. ‘I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky, and all I ask is a tall-ship and a star to steer her by’.

The congregation mainly comprised members of sea-faring families from Ardmore and Youghal who were deeply moved by the prayers and singing. Everywhere could be seen hankies drying the tears from the eyes of adults as they were reminded of their loved ones -- some of whom have no graves but the deep ocean. Canon Browne spoke of the strong heritage of seafaring in the area and how costly it was during storms and world wars. 

The Offeratory gifts brought to the altar included many medals of honour belonging to forefathers of members of the congregation. Also brought up to the altar was a replica of a tall-ship and a painting of the ‘Kathleen-and-May’ schooner.

At the conclusion of a very inspiring, emotional and prayerful hour, that great lifeboat anthem by Phil Coulter ‘Home from the Sea’ was sung by all.

There was hardly a dry eye in the house.

In this year of the centenary of the loss of the Titanic, it is fitting that like Cobh, the port of Youghal should remember and honour its souls lost to the sea.

The Loughlins of the Mall, Youghal, were a typical seafaring family of the nineteenth century when sailing ships ruled the seas.

Tom Loughlin captained the sailing ship

‘Perfect’, a boat that left Youghal every Spring in the mid-eighteen-hundreds to sail to the Americas. Cargo outwards would be dairy produce and on the return voyage, timber like mahogany was imported. Tom had four sons named Tommy, Michael, Jack and Jim. Tommy was sailing with his father (at just nineteen) when he was washed overboard off the Lizard. Captain Tom had to be forcibly restrained from jumping overboard in what would have been a hopeless attempt to save his son.

Another son of Captain Tom, Miko Loughlin of the Mall, died on the schooner William S. Green, shipwrecked on the Devon Coast in 1904.

Move on to 1917, when Jack Loughlin, then himself a captain, was drowned with all his crew on the

‘S.S. Ballater’ (Liverpool). It was during the First-World-War, in September 1917, that a submarine attack caused that loss. Jack was then fifty-two years of age.

And so of the original four Loughlin sons, who sailed out with their father, only Jim (also now a captain) remained. He was affectionately known as Jimo and it was his belief that

‘Davy Jones Locker’ had taken enough of the Loughlin family. So Jimo retired from seafaring, settled down ashore and lived to a ripe old age.

Running For fun, by Paud Curran

My thanks to Paud, for this article.And, apoligies for hounding him to contribute to the Blog. Anyone out there who have anything to contribute, please get in touch. Photos, articles etc will be very welcome.
Please note, photos are from private collection and (c)
Eddie

Tom Cheasty

Sometime during the winter of 1961 John Harty encouraged me to travel to Dunhill in his car to participate in the county juvenile (under-16) cross-country championship. I remember that we collected another young lad in Ballinroad (possibly Tony McCarthy?), who as far as I can recall won the juvenile title that day. For my part, I had little or no experience of competitive running and I don't think that I even finished the race.  What does stick in my memory is that the senior title was won by that great Dunhill all-rounder, Mick White, while the junior race victor was Tom Cheasty, who just shaded it over John Harty.

Tom, in his hey-day, was notably broad-shouldered, with a build that certainly did not fit the profile for distance running - but he was, in all probability, using cross-country as part of his physical conditioning for hurling.

Paud at the finish of the Boston City marathon in 1986 with the lads from South Hill limerick

 

In 1962-63 I attended Pallaskenry Agricultural College in Limerick, where one had a chance to sample all kinds of athletic endeavour. While I could hold my own at football (having won a county junior championship with An Rinn that year), insofar as running was concerned it became clear to me that I did not have the natural speed for the shorter races and was probably the wrong build for the serious distance stuff. However, within these limitations I was to derive huge enjoyment from running for fun, mainly on the road, until I was well into my fifties.

Pallaskenry Agricultural College

Rideau Canal 

While I always had an interest in running throughout the sixties football was my main sport at that time. It was only when I lived in Ottawa, Canada between 1976 and 1980 that I really began to devote the time to it. Ottawa has the wonderful Rideau Canal flowing through its centre and, while it turns into a large skating rink in winter, it had a tarred pathway for pedestrians and cyclists along its banks, which went on for many miles. I worked downtown and we lived in a suburb five or six miles away and it was ideal to be able to run home after work (much of the jog taking me along the scenic banks of the Rideau Canal). In addition, Ottawa hosted an international indoor track meet and it was fantastic to see the great Eamonn Coghlan compete in a 5000 metres race on one occasion.

 The city also hosted an annual marathon race, and while I did not participate in this or indeed any other organised race at the time, it was clear that I had a growing interest in doing so.

The other interesting development at that time was the emergence of the highly designed and engineered running shoe. Adidas, I believe, led the way and the era saw a growing linkage between fashion and sportswear, which continues to evolve. It was a long way from the cheap, flat-soled, canvas running footwear that we wore in our youth!

I was friendly with a fellow from Co. Clare called Seán Egan, who was an 

The late, Seán Egan

academic at the

University of Ottawa. We played together on the Ottawa Gaels football team (in 1977, I added a Canadian junior title to my Waterford one!).

 Seán was a super-fit individual who could decide to run a marathon on a whim. In April 2005 the same man tragically lost his life on the slopes of Mount Everest while attempting, at 63 years, to be the oldest Canadian to summit that mighty mountain.

At home in An Rinn great things were happening on the athletic front. The marvelous exploits of St. Nicholas A.C., mentored by Fr. Michael Enright with the assistance of others such as John Harty and Paddy Joe Curran, had become a national story. I was away from it all but my brother, Kevin, and sister, Līse, were very much involved with the club. However, it was the emergence of John Treacy as an iconic figure for club, country and country that made that era a truly golden one.

Paud Curran admires Seán Treacy's Olympic medal 1984 Boston, right is Brendan Rogers

 When I returned from Ottawa and was living in Dublin I found that the Dublin City Marathon had become a hugely popular event and that there was a noticeable presence of runners on the city streets. I eventually trained enough to just about complete the race in 1981, and again (with an improved time) in 1982. I managed to raise some funds for ALONE on both occasions and met its founder – a very committed and modest man called Willie Bermingham. It was also great to participate in the marathon with old friends from An Rinn such as Seamus Drummy and my brother-in-law, Johnny Young.

Paud and John Young In Dublin

In 1983 we moved to Boston, the home of arguably the world's most famous marathon. As a race with a history dating back to 1897 I was nervous of even attempting to enter during our first year in the city. I did, however, train for an autumn marathon called BOSTONFEST, which I managed to complete in under three hours and thirty minutes (a visitor from home, Eamonn Terry, ran a magnificent 2.45 that day). The Boston Marathon proper is always held on Patriots' Day, which falls on the third Monday in April.

Boston City marathon. Left Paud Curran, to the fore, Mayor of Boston, Ray Flynn and to his right, Eddie Burke.1985

The obvious difficulty for anyone living in the Boston area is that the preliminary training for it has to be undertaken in severe winter conditions. My place of work was in Copley Square, which is the finish point for the marathon but which is also just a short distance from the Charles River. Not unlike the Rideau Canal there was a running pathway along both sides of the river which went on for about 20 miles in total distance and which was cleared of snow in winter. With the proper gear to combat the low temperatures this was an ideal training locale  for the April marathon. As one moved to within a month of the race date, in order to have a good chance of completing the 26.22 miles (42.195 km) course in a reasonable time, a week of peak training along the Charles River would involve five consecutive ten mile runs followed by a rest day and a twenty mile run on day seven. A fair commitment indeed for a “fun” runner!

A winter day

I completed four “Bostons” between 1984 and 1987. I managed to obtain an honorary official race number each year without having to achieve a qualifying time which I didn't have a hope of reaching (my fastest time over the four years was 3:31.38). In any event, I now have four coveted medals as souvenirs. Medals apart, I met some interesting people and made some great friends in these years’

The late Pat O'Connell

 Pat O'Connell from Killarney was a regular participant in the marathon  - to raise funds to fight the disease that eventually took his life ; Fr. Joe Young and a group of young lads from the troubled Southill area of Limerick were involved on another occasion. John Treacy also raced one of the years, but a highlight of our time in Boston was to meet and be photographed with John when he returned from Los Angeles in 1984 with his Olympic silver medal.

Kick off at Heartbreak Hill

Ellison Tarazan Brown

I often say to people that I would gladly have sacrificed a toe just to have participated once in such an historic sporting event, not to mind four times! This, after all, is a race in which about 20,000 registered runners participate (and many more without official numbers), with as many as 500,000 spectators along the course. It was won only once by an Irishman – Niall Cusack from Limerick in 1974. What a thrill it was to run up “Heartbreak Hill”, around 20 miles into the race, which takes its name from a famous incident in 1936 when the previous year's winner, John A. Kelley, caught the then fading race leader, Ellison “Tarzan” Brown, giving Brown a conciliatory pat on the back as he passed. His competitive drive apparently stoked by this gesture “Tarzan” Brown rallied, pulled away from Kelley, and went on to win – in the words of a reporter that day “breaking Kelley's   heart “. Such is the depth of sporting history associated with the Boston Marathon...

Back in Dublin again, I continued to run for fun and fitness, without having any great enthusiasm for getting involved in organised races. Whenever we came to An Rinn I would regularly jog the length of the Cunnigar, which to me is the most scenic place to run available anywhere.

In 1990 we moved to Africa and experienced very different running conditions in countries such as Lesotho and Uganda. 

Left to roght; Jack Fives,RIP. Patrick Curran, Fr. Denis O'Callaghan(Waterford) RIP and John O'Neil, RIP  Pictured in Maseru

Paud, chats after the Campala race.

Famous waterford Hurler, Johnny O'Connor from Abbeyside, shares the Dungarvan leader with some Ugandans

The former lies at a very high altitude and is very hilly and mountainous. Running there, even at a testing 2000 metres high, was enjoyable because of the scenery and the sunshine. Moving to Uganda in 1994 I got involved with the Hash House Harriers in Kampala, for the first time. A word of explanation is probably in order here ; the Harriers originated in 1938 in Malaysia when bored British colonial civil servants invented this “fox and hounds” running game, which combines exercise and fun (mainly having to do with drinking beer!).

In any event HHH clubs have spread to virtually every country (having lost the colonial trappings along the way) and the weekly “race” is a great opportunity to meet other people, especially for newcomers in a strange city. I participated in well over a 100 such HHH gatherings in Uganda or while visiting other African countries.

Paud ,On board Naval ship in newport Rhode Island with Charlie Lawn and John Treacy

In 1997 I was home on leave and entered our local Rás na Rinne for the first and only time.

Rás na Rinne with seamus Manahan, left, and right Eamonn Terry(c) Rory Wyley

 The race goes from Coláiste na Rinne to the tip of the Cunnigar and back. While I was on the wrong side of 50 by then at least I had plenty of experience of the Cunnigar behind me and I had also been running at altitude in Kampala. 

In Boston with John Treacy and Mayor of Boston, Ray Flynn

It was nice to be involved again with Seamus Manahan, Eamonn Terry and my nephew, Shay Young – and Paddy Joe Curran (who sadly passed away recently) was there on the course encouraging every runner, as he had done for many years. We may have finished near the end of the field but it was a great way to more or less bring down the curtain on my involvement in any form of organised running.

Paud pictured with others of the 'Irish team' in Campala

Now permanently settled back in An Rinn after most of a lifetime away, who should I find still involved with encouraging young people in athletics through An Ghaeltacht A.C. but the same John Harty who introduced me to running all these years ago. What a dedicated sportsman...

Patrick (Paud) Henry Curran pictured with his sons and his wife's niece

As for myself, I have now discovered the joys of walking – and no better place for it!

Ring Fishermen and the Quakers

The Erin's Hope saga at Helvick Head & Dungarvan

The story of the Erins Hope, can be found elswhere in the Blog, What I offer here are newspaper cutting from the period, which I hope you enjoy. I have added some illustrations to give the piece a little colour.

Enjoy.

Eddie

The correspondent, of the Irish Times, writing from Dungarvan on the 2nd says:— While the magistrates were occupied at the petty sessions here to-day, a coastguard from Helvick arrived m great haste and had a conversation immediately with Mr Redmond, the resident magistrate. Upon the request of the latter all the other magistrates retired to their room without delay for the purpose of consultation, and the court was adjourned. The extraordinary circumstance which led to this sudden proceeding was that, the coastguard brought an account that a strange vessel had been seen off the coast by some of his men. Her movements were watched for some time, and she was observed to press a hooker from this port into her service, and which landed between forty and fifty men on the Cunnigar, a tongue of land stretching a considerable distance across the bay. But even the hooker could not get near enough the land to save those on board her getting a wetting, and the men had to wade up to their necks in order to reach the shore. Communication of this intelligence was at once made to the police, and without delay all that were available were despatched to Helvick on cars. Four men were there arrested, and the saturated state of their clothing bore out a portion of the coastguard man's statement. 

When searched,some documents, the nature of which has not transpired, were found with them, and one had in his possession a revolver. The entire party of suspicious characters, after landing, dispersed in various directions, and at the time I write the police are busily engaged in the pursuit. An order, I am informed, has been ordered to the police from the country stations. There is a guard; of fully equipped soldiers are ready for immediate march on the ramparts. I am sorry to say that, though Dungarvan preserved itself from Fenianism throughout, and that there was not a single case of disloyalty in it, on this occasion there appeared to be a marked tendency in favour of the Fenians amongst the roughs, who hissed the police, and endeavoured in every way to obstruct them. In contrast with this serious matter there was an amusing episode in connection with the hurried withdrawal of the magistrates from court. A prisoner in the dock accused a crime prevalent in the country — namely, sheep plucking, taking advantage of the slight confusion which followed, and the absence of mind of those around him, made his escape.

 

 

FINIAN RIOT AT WATERFORD. (From a Correspondent of the Freeman's journal Thursday 15 August 1867  "It appears that four of the constabulary from Cork arrived here on Thursday evening, in charge of prisoners who were arrested at Helvick Head, near Dungarvan, and who were tolled off for temporary imprisonment at Waterford Gaol. Amongst them were two men who were identified by Corrydon as' General' Nagle, of the United States army, and Captain Warren, of the New York Volunteers. The appearance of this party in the dusk of the evening attracted a crowd, and the police feared without reason, I understand-that sympathisers would attempt a rescue. The strongest feature in the case is that the police in Waterford had no intimation of the transfer of the prisoners, and made no arrangements either to assist their brethren in arms or to conduct them through strange and winding streets to the gaol. 

The Cunnigar, I took this photo  from Ballymarket

The Cork police, marched to the police-station here for assistance, and while the constabulary, were being gathered in from various places, and very large crowds of men, women, and boys collected, forty policemen armed with rifles and bayonets, and six mounted men armed with sabres, were told off to escort the prisoners to gaol, a distance of about a quarter of a mile. This march was performed under certainly trying circumstances, A crowd, variously estimated at from a thousand to two thousand salters, fishermen, and idlers of all classes, cheered the prisoners, hissed their custodians, and indulged in the favourite Irish pastime of stone throwing. Some say the stones were abundant, and it would appear from various accounts that some of the police were hurt. The gaol was safely reached, and the prisoners having been given into the custody of the governor, the escort returned towards the barracks.

Dungarvan Castle

They proceeded down a narrow street, on one side of which is a grave yard, surrounded by walls ten feet high. Here they were assailed by unseen stone throwers, and the shops opposite this masked battery bear evidence of the affray in respect of a few broken windows. The police would not stand this treatment any longer, and without orders-nay, in defiance of Head-Constable Barry, who was in command-they turned, and with fixed bayonets, made an indiscriminate attack, not upon the stone throwers or alleged stone throwers, but upon the men, women, and children who crushed after them to see the sport. Denis Walsh received two thrusts of a sword or sword bayonet in the side and breast and died on the spot. He ran away from the police and attempted to get into the house of a publican named O'Neill, but a girl shut the door as he was within a step of being safe, and he instantly received the wounds which left him dead on the flagway opposite the inhospitable door. Jeremiah O'Sullivan was wounded in the hip. He is a very old man. Keenan, a blacksmith, was wounded in the back. He is in hospital and is doing well. A little boy was severely trampled upon by the horses; and a woman received a sword thrust through the arm. It is said that a great many people received wounds who are afraid to seek medical aid lest they should be arrested. The doors in the houses in Patrick Street are cut with bayonet trusts; and I saw a shutter composed of half-inch wood which was completely perforated with a sharp broad instrument. This thrust extended to the sash of the window."

This is a photo illustrating the sleeping quarters at Dungarvan castle during the period.

Thisis a further reeport

The affray at Waterford- A serious riot occurred at Waterford on the night of Thursday, June 13, which proved to be the most violent demonstration that has yet occurred in connection with the movements of Fenian prisoners. But in Waterford there were special causes of irritation predisposing the mob to violence. Much soreness of feeling remains as result of the encounters with the military at the late election, and there was great public excitement caused by the landing of so many Fenian leaders near Dungarvan. The sufferings they had endured from being tossed about so many weeks at sea, and then driven by starvation to fling themselves ashore at all hazards, created the liveliest interest in their fortunes, presenting them to the popular imagination as so many heroes of romance. 

The old market houseDungarvan,  where the fenian Edmond Power was hanged from out of the window!

The rumour that some of them were men of high social position in the United States and above all two of them were distinguished officers in the Irish brigade commanded by General Meagher raised the excitement to the highest pitch. Meagher is a native of Waterford, where his family are very influential, so that the feeling of clanship was added to all the other elements of combustion. Another inflammatory matter was the appearance of Corrydon, the informer, at Waterfowl, on Monday, Juno 10. For the purpose of identifying some of the American fugitives in the county gaol. It is said that his defiant bearing and cool assurance caused general indignation among the populace. It was under these circumstances that four of the men who had landed near Dungarvan were brought in by the train from Cork which arrived at quarter to 9, Thursday evening, conducted to the lock-up at Lady-lane, where they were detained for some .....,(difficult to read the writing, so have omitted some words).....  

Fenian Log

  Being mounted commanded by Head-constable Barry. During the time which elapsed between the arrival of the prisoners at Lady-lane and their removal the intelligence of their presence had been spread throughout the city, and large numbers of people had assembled in the Mayor's-walk and on the hill of Ballybricken, immediately outside the gaol, when the escort made its appearance. It was with difficulty that a way was made through the angry crowd. Stones were thrown at the police, and there seemed to be a determination to rescue the prisoners, some of whom were hit by the stones intended for the police. They were safely lodged in gaol; but the mob vented their fury on the police when they were returning. Brickbats, paving stones, &c, were thrown, cutting and wounding the men dreadfully; several of their firearms were broken. 

The boys in action

They were compelled to turn and charge the mob to save their lives. One man named Walsh, a salter, was stabbed in the breast and was killed; another named Keenan was severely stabbed, and his life is despaired of; about 20 others were wounded. A desperate fight lasting for some minutes ensued. The horse police eventually cleared the streets. The mob occupied an elevated ground, having beside them a magazine of large stones, which they threw at the constabulary. While this was going on a constable named Mercer happened to get separated from his party, and was seized upon by the mob and beaten. Efforts were made by the police to get him out of their hands peaceably, but without effect. One or two constables were severely injured in this attempt.

Fenian grave  monument at Glasnevin

Head constable Barry, who had charge of the party, ordered his men to rescue Mercer. Bayonets were fixed, and the men charged the mob. Those only who have witnessed popular commotions can form an idea of the scene which ensued, The police pressed on an infuriated crowd, struggling with them step by step, wounding some with their bayonets, and being wounded in return by stones thrown at them. The cavalry police, in endeavouring to rescue their comrade, also charged, and in doing severely injured several persons in the crowd, the police, however, acted with calmness and calibration, and appeared actuated throughout with a desire simply to perform their duty. 

Thomas F. Meagher

The constable Mercer was eventually rescued, but was found in a sad plight. His rifle was broken, his hat stolen, and himself wounded and bleeding. The constables retired to their barracks with the wounded man, and left the cavalry to clear and preserve order in the streets. Keenan, a resident in John’s-lane, expired on June 14. Twenty four persons had their wounds dressed besides 32 policemen. A great number of the civilians suffered from wounds inflicted by stones aimed at the police. Many of the police are seriously injured, and will not be able to resume duty for a considerable period. At 11 all was quite.

Airgead Póca (2)

                                                               Airgead Póca (2)

 Story by' Padraig 'Paud'  O Cuirrin, photos (c) Eddie Cantwell .

 My thanks to Paud, for this follow up

As previously mentioned there was a significant gap in time between the sugar-beet thinning season and the harvesting of the crop, so other ways had to be found to earn some pocket-money to cover the school holiday period when it was most needed. Central to these fund-raising efforts would be the saving of the hay and the harvesting of cereal crops.

In Tipperary long ago they used to say “The hay is saved – and Cork is bet!” which aptly described the importance of hay in the farming cycle. There was - and still is - a huge dependency on the hay crop among farmers, small and large, to see the farm livestock through a long and often harsh winter.

When it came to hay–making the first obligation was to the home place and afterwards one might fit in some paid work with a neighbour such as Garrett Quinn, who had an extensive farm close by Before the widespread use of the baler, the process of saving the hay went through a number of labour-intensive stages – all meant to ensure that the hay ended up fully dry in a rick in the haggard or in a barn. The changeable nature of the Irish summer meant that the description of the hay being “saved” was indeed very appropriate!

Whether working at home or on hire to another farmer there was something pleasant about hay-making. It did not involve the hardship associated with the beet crop and the work was, out of necessity, carried on in fine summer weather. Also saving the hay had an element of the meitheal about it, as people often helped each other – and never did a cup of tea and a slice of currant cake taste better than when enjoyed lying against a cock of hay!

Most small farmers would have an acre of oats or barley – whether for animal feeding or selling on to a local grain merchant – and again some opportunities for earning pocket-money opened up in late summer, when the harvesting took place. By the time I was old enough to do serious farm work the combine harvester had largely taken over from the reaper and binder and the threshing machine, and the job had become more about lifting bags of grain and gathering up straw. That one piece of modern machinery fundamentally changed the face of rural Ireland as the concept of the meitheal or people working together for a common purpose, such as at a threshing, largely came to an end.

A source of some scarce spare cash for some of us in An Rinn was winkle picking. Periwinkles were to be found in abundance to the east and west of Cē Bhaile na nGall and in a few other places such as Poll a' Phūca. The demand for winkles seemed to have come from the Continent as it is only very rarely that I saw them being eaten locally. Winkle picking was not easy work as it involved being stooped over for as long as the tide allowed you to be on the rocks, and weather conditions were often harsh. The problem for us “suppliers” is that there were very few buyers and more often than not you were faced with a monopoly situation. The going rate was around a half-crown a bucket but sometimes the bucket produced by the buyer was well in excess of the standard measure – and the winkles would be piled so high that they were falling off the sides! Even if you protested and held back from selling you ran the risk of the winkles dying off before another buyer appeared. On the whole, picking winkles was neither attractive nor very profitable and it was something that we did when there was little else available.

The most lucrative part-time job I had was for a summer in the early 1960s. The Land Commission decided to bring some order to bear on the many bits and pieces of land, broadly around Baile na nGall  ; where the boundaries of such small holdings were largely undefined and where ownership was sometimes disputed. The job entailed a lot of fencing and I was employed as part of a work-gang of about six men tasked with erecting concrete fence-posts and wire. As material had to be moved around the various sites our farm horse and cart was needed and there was extra payment given for this service. Mickey Dalton, who is still to the good as a well-known traditional musician, was the site foreman and the late Eddie Curran (Glenbeg) was responsible for paying us on behalf of the Land Commission. An engineer from Dungarvan occasionally inspected the work. Some of the fencing that was erected is still in place fifty years later and was probably helpful to people over the years, especially during our recent building frenzy when sites in An Rinn were hugely valued? In any event, I was well paid by the standards of the time (when the premium for the horse and cart was tallied) – even if most of what I got had to be surrendered at home!  

In due course, we moved on to more serious and permanent ways of earning a living. Much is made nowadays of “work experience” or the lack of it. I like to think that all of these little jobs that we did in our youth amounted to relevant “work experience” - if perhaps not for inclusion on any formal CV but, in a more general sense, as preparation for life.