Father O'Reilly's side-kick

Sat, 12*-Apr-1603, Spring

The brigantine Lūpukrāsas Slampa ("Painted Lady") of Riga (Latvia) docked in Baltimore harbour. [Baltimore, USA, took its name from this place].  Among the crew taking shore leave were two fellows, Elrick Youngson [Ian], sailor, from Oslo then Riga, and Roma Freeley [Chris], pikey, from Rotterdam. On the docks, they went through the cursory Customs and Excise inspection. One of the Customs soldiers was a Private Art Bowman [Jeff]. Art took an immediate liking to Roma who was exploiting his pikey charm.

[ * = dates use Gregorian calendar, because my moon tables are in Gregorian. To convert to Julian, which Ireland was using at this time, until 1752, subtract ten days. So this day is 2nd April 1603. ]

Sun 13-Apr

After taking mass at St Mary under-the-wagon, Deacon Father O'Reilly [Shane] headed to his favourite post-mass Sunday location, the Waterfront Inn.

The deacon's parents' surname was O'Reilly, and, not being too bright, they named him "Father" after his uncle, a priest. This was made more confusing since that very uncle was the parish priest that Father worked under, another O'Reilly, and the uncle was a genuine Father. So, the good church of St Mary had a priest called Father O'Reilly and a deacon called Deacon Father O'Reilly. ("Deacon" being a father-in-training.) Of course, when the deacon would be fully ordained, he would then be Father Father O'Reilly.

In the inn, Father met with his childhood friend, Art Bowman. Elrick and Roma arrived too and joined the drinking buddies. Ale all round.
Father did not have a very good constitution, and although he loved ale (in fact, any alcoholic beverage), he could not drink much before he became sick. So the usual Sunday morning ensued with Father drinking too much, slurring his words, making a disturbance, and voiding his bladder.

A little while later, the genuine Father O'Reilly arrived. This was also the normal Sunday occurrence, where the the Father would take the ill Father home. But today, he arrived with another older fellow in tow. He was introduced to the group as Todd Unctuous. Todd was in his early sixties, and was from Dublin, or was it Cork? They weren't sure. Father O'Reilly arranged for Todd to chaperone the drunken deacon. Todd had good knowledge of Catholic doctrine, and a cast-iron constitution, so he could pass as a tutor for Father, and could bodily carry the sickly drunk home, if necessary.

While this was going on, Roma overheard a bunch of sailors at the adjacent table. They were from the other ship that was docked in the harbour (next to the Painted Lady), a British warship, the HMS Dreadful, a brig. The sailors were talking about a wreck that they had passed yesterday during the trip along the coast - off Long Island, an island eight Irish miles* to the west. The moon was new, so there were very large king tides; maybe that explained the recent observance of the wreck.

[ * = An Irish mile is 8 Irish furlongs, or 320 Irish linear perches**, or exactly 14/11 English miles, or a fraction over two kilometres.

** = perches are normally units of area (there being 160 perches to an acre; yes, the Irish acre was different to the English acre), but the Irish had a "linear perch" which was 7 yards, c.f. the English "rod" which was 5.5 yards. And one square rod was called a "perch"***. Thems were the days.

*** = not to be mistaken for the small stripey freshwater fish. ]

Roma "found out" that there was a dying man living on Long Island and that he needed an emergency Last Rites performed (else he would die unconfessed). So Father O'Reilly told Todd to get Deacon Father O'Reilly over to Long Island by any means necessary ("a man's mortal soul is in jeopardy"; "jeu parti" a lost game). Roma and Elrick managed to convince their boss (Captain Galvenā-Krastmala of the Painted Lady) to borrow a skiff "for three days". And Art convinced his immediate barracks commander, Lieutenant Matthews, that he would be required to travel with the group to give them martial protection, for three days. Art suggest they bring his other friend "Ab" Siddy [Darryl], as he had some unique skills which might help the group.

The skiff was sailed by Elrick, who had significant boating skills, with the rest of the group: Roma, Art, Ab, Father and Todd, forming the crew. They got to Lamb Island, just past halfway, by dark.
The island was a wooded and uninhabited island, so they pulled the skiff up the beach, and started a large fire from driftwood. Todd cooked a meal, which was pretty mediocre, and they settled down for the night.

Around midnight, Roma, on second watch, heard some movement in the woods just off the beach. He woke everyone up and went to investigate with his cat-like tread. In the woods, he espied a figure, a nude figure of a young woman, crouched down, watching the group. Her skin glowed, as if shone by moonlight, but there was no moon. Roma crept close to her, but she suddenly noticed him, gave a squeal, and then waved her hands. A red bolt of light shot out at him, he ducked, and it singed his cheek with a searing pain. Then the woman dropped something, scampered off and disappeared behind a tree. Roma called the group in and they searched; no trace. He recovered the object she had dropped. It was a small basket, size of a fist, filled with fine sand. The sand also glowed faintly.

The group investigated the sand. Father knew a few churchy blessings, wards and things, so he got out his kit and performed those rituals, but it had no effect. Art sniffed the sand deeply. Todd did too.

"Smells like sand," Todd said blankly. He then dipped his finger in it and tasted it. "Pah. Tastes like sand too."

Roma wrapped the sand basket up tightly and put it in the skiff.

Suddenly, Todd started to cough. It sounded like the retching noise a cat makes when coughing up a fur-ball. He was given water, both holy and mundane, and some communion wine, but that didn't help. If anything, it made the coughing worse. His coughing got louder and more violent. Blood started to spatter out of his mouth and nose, and, what looked like his epiglottis, only bigger, was being coughed out too, in long stringy tendrils. But when he gasped air between coughs, he would suck it all back in. Each time he coughed now, the tendrils and bits of meat and mucous membrane got longer and longer. They were glistening and fleshy, like the inside of his mouth and throat. This progressed for the next quarter hour, and as time passed, more and more glistening membrane and viscera was coughed out. It looked like stomach, then intestines and then liver, and it was large enough now to touch the sandy beach. Great gasping coughs, but it was all sucked back in between coughs.

Between bouts, Roma helped Todd onto the skiff and pushed it off the beach, while Todd crouched within on all fours, doing his violent coughs. By now, it looked like he was coughing out his lungs, heart (happily pumping), and even his bowels. In fact, there was more of Todd coughed out than what was left in him. But each inward gasp would still drag it all back in again. Finally, there was an almighty explosive COUGH, which echoed around the bay, followed by a wet splodge. And then silence. Todd was nowhere to be seen, so Roma peered into the skiff. There was a naked girl, in her late teens, lying unconscious in the boat, glistening with the various body fluids of Todd  (sweat, blood, lymph, bile, interstitial fluid, chyle and saliva). Todd's clothes were in a heap next to her.

Roma brought the boat in, and the group gently lifted her out and lay her next to the fire. She was totally unresponsive, and even prying her eyelids open revealed non-reactive eyes. She was breathing softly. Roma searched through Todd's clothing and gear, but could find no trace of him; apart from the foul blasphemy of his soiled underpants, which they burned.

The girl's eyes suddenly sprang open and she sat up.
"What's goin' on here, then?" she said, matter-of-factly, and then glanced down and screamed.
"What happened to me?!" she shrieked. "What are these?" grabbing her breasts.
Then she grabbed at her groin, yelling hystrically "Where is it?!"

"Todd?" said Father.
She looked at him.
"What happened to me?!" she yelled.
"Must've been the sand," said Art wisely. "You shouldn't have licked it."
"Maybe try eating some more sand?" ventured Roma. "Might turn you back."
"No!" said Father.

Having a naked girl in the group, proved to be a distraction (esp Roma, who had an unhealthy-cum-psychotic interest in the fairer sex), so they draped her best they could in Todd's ill-fitting clothes, then tucked her in for the night.

Mon 14-Apr

The rest of the night passed peacefully.

"Todd," said Father in the morning. "You need a new name. I vote 'Tess'. Tess of the d'Urbervilles."
"To be sure," said Tess.

Roma had thought up a story to explain this whole Todd fiasco for when they returned to Baltimore. If word got out that some sidhe* magic had changed Todd to Tess, she'd be burned as a witch, and most likely the rest of the group too.

[ * = sidhe pronounced "she" is the faeries, the fae. ]

So, here was the story, which they all learned by rote:

1. A handful foul Ottoman* raiders attacked us on Lamb Is.
2. We bravely fought them off. They sailed away.
3. Poor Todd was killed in the skirmish. We gave him a Christian burial on the beach on Lamb Is.
4. The raiders had a fair maiden captive with them, whom we rescued. She had been abused by their foul Ottoman hands so much so that the trauma caused amnesia. She could not even remember her own name, so we called her Tess.

[ * = "... out of Constantinople, headed to sack Venice, but turned left at the Adriatic and ended up .. um... in Ireland?" ]

After this, they packed up and disembarked on the skiff.

After a few hours, Elrick cast his weather-eye to the west and did not like the look of the gun-metal clouds and towering thunderheads. So he made for the closest island, Horse Island. There was already a big swell, and this trip was pretty violent. Everyone except Elrick was horribly sea sick. But, Elrick got them there safely, and, as they were pulling the skiff up the beach, the storm proper arrived.

Horse Island was inhabited, so the group pushed their way through the icy driving rain to a farm house. The occupants were very welcoming, and when they realized a cleric was with them, even more so.

The locals all asked for to make confessions, so Father spent the rest of the rainy day taking confessions and issuing penance.

Tess was given some proper women's clothing

The group were given a slap-up meal, and the best beds for the night.

Tue 15-Apr

After a horrible stormy night, the next morning dawned clear and calm.

The group said their good-byes to the Horse Islanders, and they made for Long Is. under the careful command of Elrick using his best boatmanship. This would take about five hours.

Long island was about an Irish mile long and maybe 1/4 mile wide. They assumed the wreck site would be on the southern side, that being where the sailors of the HMS Dreadful could see it. The tides were still large, and it would be about mid-tide when they got there.

However, off in the distance was another larger ship, at anchor, with no flags up.

"Pirates!" spat Art. Everyone agreed.

It had just disembarked its own jolly boat to the island with 6-plus fellows aboard. Elrick changed course to pass on the North side of Long Is (the pirates were on the SW side). They beached their boat, pulled it into the woods (that covered the entire island), and headed to the high point on foot.

They got to the high point easily, but the forest covered everything, so it afforded no view. As they were deciding what to do, they heard noisy movement approaching, and sharp foul foreign tongue. So, they dug in and planned an ambush.

Three onion-and-garlic-reeking foreigners arrived, and a fight ensued. They were armed with match-locks and swords. One managed to get a shot off, but the musket ball whistled past Art's ear. The battle dragged on for ages [ because I was doing Fudge combat wrong ], but the party prevailed and downed the three. Roma took a nasty wound.

There were at least three more foreigners. And they would have heard the gun shot, and heard the screams of battle. What would they do? What will the group do next?

Introduction

Welcome to 1603. Baltimore, County of Cork, Southern Ireland.

QE 1

Hated Queen Elizabeth 1 has just died, and has been replaced by James 1st who has a slightly kinder predisposition towards the Irish. The Nine years war has just finished ending the uprising of the Irish Earls. England has a firm foothold in Ireland with the English holding all important positions in both country and town.

“Plantations” have started. This involves the confiscation of Irish ancestral land by the English crown and the colonization of this land with settlers from Britain.

Fifteen years ago (1588), the Spanish Armada’s failed invasion of England resulted in the wrecking of 24 of its 130 ships along the west coast of Ireland. Any surviving spaniards (and any Irish who dared to harbour them), were summarily rounded up and hanged by the English troops stationed in Ireland. Even now, the Irish are still finding the occasional piece of loot from these wrecks.

The plague pops up now and again all over Europe. Ireland is not exempt from this.

Shakespeare in full flight, writing his plays and sonnets, and will so for another 13 years.

Snaphance (pre-flintlock)

Soldiers are now armed with long muskets (carbines and rifles) instead of bow and sword. Short-barrelled muskets (“pistols”) are very rare. The flintlock has yet to be invented. They have the snaplock and the snaphance (an early flintlock) as well as the expensive (but very reliable) wheel-lock, and the mundane match-lock. The paper cartridge is the latest thing: a slug of gunpowder pre-wrapped, ready to be rammed.

Armour has reached its zenith, using excellent high-carbon metallurgy to make suits that will turn any blade. But a full suit of this plate costs a king’s ransom.

Witchcraft is rife throughout Europe, but strangely, not in Ireland. Maybe this is because fae magic abounds. In the woods and forests, and in the wilderness, live the sidhe (“she”), the fairy-folk, waiting to ensorcel the unwary traveller and bewitch him.

This is countered by the Church and her miracles. Most of Europe is still Roman Catholic, but it’s been almost a century since Martin Luther was excommunicated, and Protestantism has been growing since. Henry VIII started the (Anglican) Church of England sixty years ago, and the Church of Ireland soon after. However, Roman Catholicism still has a strong-hold in Ireland, and the Irish-speaking majority tend be faithful to the Latin liturgy. The English-speaking minority adhere to the Church of Ireland (Presbyterianism with Calvinist doctrine).

Much of the diet still revolves around dairy; people drank milk and buttermilk, ate fresh curds, and mixed whey with water to make a sour drink called “blaand.” Butter is flavoured with onion and garlic and buried it in bogs for storage (and flavour!).

The other primary food was grain, mostly oats, which was made into oatcakes and pottages (oat stew). Wheat, which was not easy to grow in Ireland (too wet), was mostly eaten by the rich. People supplemented their grains and milk with occasional meat and fish; grew cabbages, onions, garlic, and parsnips; and ate wild greens.  People still avoided uncooked fruit and vegetables, believing them to carry disease. Indeed, during the last London plague 34 years ago (1569) it was illegal to sell fresh fruit. Though, this fear is now starting to wane, and we’re seeing oranges, lemons, quinces, apricots and melons (imported from Southern Europe).

Potatoes, and tomatoes, from the New World, are now being grown locally and just starting to be cheap enough to be used as food.

Other new foods have arrived from the New World, still expensive, include kidney beans, maize, Indian corn, chocolate, peanuts, vanilla, pineapples, French beans, red and green peppers, turkeys and tapioca.

And there is an ever-increasing appetite for sugar from sugar cane (imported from territories in the West and East Indies as well as from Morocco and Barbary). Sugar is used for anything from dressing vegetables and preserving fruit to the concoction of medical remedies. But it’s still costly.

So too was tobacco; expensive and rare.

Tea and coffee have another fifty years before they arrive.

Plenty of alcohol, however. Beers, ales, and the stronger whiskey (with an “e”)

(Gaelic “uisce beatha”, meaning “water of life”.) Whiskey wasn’t aged at this time so it was rough as guts (whiskey aging did not start until the Bushmills distillery opens in North Ireland in five years’ time).

Wine is locally made too. In fact, there have been vineyards around Cork since 450 AD.

No Guinness for another 170 years.