THE DEPRIVED... Part 8.

This is a continuation of my book...

Michael and Patrick had left the house, going out in search of food while leaving Mary and Kathleen to clean as much as they could and sort out which part of the room would be theirs as a sleeping quarter. In some of the rooms there were fights going on so that screams and shouts rang out while children ran from one floor of the building to another, the fear widening their eyes. On the ground floor roamed gangs of youths armed with wooden clubs who entered the lower rooms and stole whatever was worth stealing.
Beth quickly made friends with the other children, while Sam kept himself aloof, his face serious and not answering when the others asked him a question or invited him to play a game of ‘Blackjacks’.  Michael and Patrick had returned with some pies and fruit, the likes of which both families had not seen for a long time. One of the young men armed with a club had wandered upstairs on his own but left as soon as Michael and Patrick confronted him.
“There’s a rat!” screamed Beth, running to her mother as a large brown rat scuttled its way past the men and down the stairs.
“It’s alright.” soothed Mary. “The rat has gone. Just let me and Kathleen get the food ready and we can all sit down on the blankets and eat.”  
Having eaten and with the day passing into night, both families compromised and allowed all the children to spread themselves out on the blankets in the far corner while Michael and Mary slept in another corner. Patrick and Kathleen spaced themselves to the other corner.        
As soon as dark fell it seemed that the whole house became over-run with rats, large ugly black and brown brutes that had come ashore from the boats and festered outwards from the Dock area. The whole night was spent in chasing the rats from one corner to the other. Throughout the house came the continued screams and shouts so that no-one got any sleep.

At early morning light came the loud blast of a hunting horn from outside in the street and raising the sacking from the window Michael could see the round figure of the Gaffer from the day before.
“Come along you men!” he shouted up at the windows before giving another blast on the hunting horn. “It’s five o’clock.” he yelled. “You have work to do so let’s have you down here and ready for work!”
Michael and Patrick kissed their wives goodbye, not knowing where they would be working or how long they would be away. Outside the house a horse-drawn cart waited for the men to climb aboard.
“Come on, men. There’s work to be done and only daylight to do it in. Climb aboard!” shouted the Gaffer.
There were eighteen men who clambered aboard the trailer, tightly-packed but all in high spirits as the Gaffer counted them.
“There are five men missing!” he shouted. “I will be giving their names to the company and they will be punished by court of law when they are caught! And after they serve a long sentence, if they are not transported to lands far away, they’ll be sent back to Ireland to starve!”          
“And who’s fault is it, that we were left starving!” shouted Patrick, swayed by patriotism.
“The English cannot be blamed for the blight of the potato crop!” shouted the Gaffer, his face mottling to red. “You’re here to work! Drive on driver!” he shouted, climbing up next to the driver.
In the grey of morning light the horse pulled the cart through streets which seemed to be piled high with rubbish that housed rats which scurried out of the way of the wagon wheels, some not so lucky and adding to the stench which would rise even higher as the sun rose.
It took an hour before the horse was pulled to a stop, the stench from the nearby Cesspits fully overpowering.
“I want ten men off now. Come on, I want no arguing. Come on you first ten men from the back of the cart. You, you and you, along with those others in that bunch! You can all get off the cart now!”                       
The chosen men jumped off from the back of the cart while the rest of the men, now having breathing space watched as the Gaffer led those offloaded to another man who stood in front of a pile of yokes and buckets.
“This is the bucket-man.” said the Gaffer. “His job is to hand out the yokes and buckets and show you what to do.”
“Your job.” the bucket-man shouted to those who gathered round. “Is to put the yokes round your shoulders, like this.”
Here the man hung the yoke around his shoulders then suspended the two buckets from the hooks on either side.
“Each of you will have a shovel and your job is to fill the buckets from the Cesspit and carry them down to the run of water down yonder and tip out the buckets. In this way you will empty the pit before moving on to the next pit.”
“At least we don’t have to do that.” said Michael, looking at Patrick and they watched from the back of the cart as the men began to put the yokes to their shoulders and allow the buckets to be hung on either side.
“Well let’s not bless ourselves yet, Michael. Let’s wait and see what we have to do.”
The cart was pulled on, coming to a stop some two miles away and drawing up onto a wasteland which was burned brown through toxics and poison.
“Here we are! Climb down the rest of you men.” ordered the Gaffer as he clambered down from the front of the cart.
“Over there in the shed yonder you will see Mr. Wilson. Now Mr. Wilson is in charge and will see to it that each of you will work to your allotted time. I shall return here when it is time to take you back to the house. Now all of you men jump down and report to Mr. Wilson.”
 With that and watching the rest of the men jump down from the cart, the Gaffer climbed back up onto the seat next to the driver and ordered the driver to get moving.