A Farmer's Holiday
Jonathan Smyth's latest Times Past column recalls the misadventure of a farmer from Cootehill...
Without farmers, the world simply starves. In bygone days, the men and women who toiled and tamed the land were not famed for taking weekend breaks and were loath to leave their livestock for more than a day. But we now know that time-out from work is important, no matter if you are a farmer, or the President of Ireland, everyone needs to relax from time to time. This week’s column recalls the holiday experience of a Cootehill farmer who sailed for Scotland.
Stranger danger
In August 1905, William Henry Lockington, from the townland of Cornanurney, boarded the boat to Scotland for a few days away from the farm. On his way home, events took an unexpected turn and an unlikely incident befitting a scene from a Charles Dickens novel occurred. The unhappy adventure led to a date in the Belfast custody Court and served as a warning to others to be careful of the friends they find when travelling. Lockington got into bother when he met in with Patrick Morrison (who we will later refer to as the prisoner), as he waited to board the Irish boat back to Belfast.
Having waited awhile about the docks on a Tuesday evening, the stranger had first approached him and asked if he were an Irishman and was, he going to Belfast. Lockington replied that he was and confirmed in the ‘affirmative’ to both questions, and like the artful dodger, his new friend joined him for the journey.
Having got into Belfast, Lockington initially hoped to take the Great Northern train back to Cootehill and the friendly mannered Morrison offered to carry his luggage to the station cloakroom. But when they got there, they found the place already closed. Lockington’s new friend offered him breakfast, and they both walked along several back alleys from a street off Grosvenor Road and duly arrived at Morrison's house where they sat down to a good breakfast. Lockington had previously dropped his luggage off at a house on Distillery Lane belonging to another man who taken the sea crossing with them. After breakfast, the farmer ‘fetched’ his belongings from the other house and both Morrison and he headed to a public house and drank two drinks each. Lockington was not clued into the location and could not tell the court later where the pub was situated.
Morrison was ready to put the final part of his scheme into action, having gained his companions trust, asking Lockington to accompany him on a walk and offering to show him the sights. Again, the farmer was led through several more side streets until they came to a house where they met another individual who was unknown to Lockington. Morrison and the man went into the yard and chatted while the farmer was left to sit in the kitchen. When the men returned, all three went through another maze of backstreets and entered another public house where Lockington bought a round.
Morrison began a new line of questioning and asked the farmer if he was a ‘good Fenian?’ The answer was no. Then he was asked, if he was a Home Ruler? To which Lockington did not reply. Morrison said that Lockington ought to be a good man since he was from Co Cavan, even if he was not a Home Ruler and then added, ‘I think you are an Orangeman.’ Lockington had a sash in one of the boxes he carried, but again said nothing.
The men went some distance into the countryside and found a pub where Morrison ordered more drinks, and the farmer paid. When Lockington had had enough, he set out for Belfast to catch the train, but the two men followed closely and directed him down a ‘lonely lane’ where they pounced on him. Morrison’s fists rained down on the back of Lockington’s head. But the farmer managed to strike his attacker and flattened him on the ground when the accomplice hit back with a punch to the victim’s stomach.
Morrison was back on his feet and grabbed the Cavan man’s watch chain, and on searching his pockets, stole his cash, but the thief cursed when he only found a small amount of money. Lockington managed to free himself from the attackers and ran in the direction of the city, with the two ruffians giving chase with the aim of cutting him off. But he was too quick for them. One of them shouted , ‘you forgot your cap,’ but he kept running.
Lockington reported the attack to the Belfast police at the Springfield Barracks on Wednesday, August 9. The victim stood in the barracks hatless with blood on his face and head from the beating. An investigation began immediately, and the police found their way back to 101 Albert Street where they got the soon to be prisoner, Morrison, lying outstretched on a bed.
The hapless victim pointed out his attacker and learned that the robbery happened at Dan O’Neill’s Lane, in the townland of Ballymurphy. Various items which the thieves stole were discovered afterwards at 101 Albert Street: items including clothes and the victim’s Orangeman sash.
Hatless and hurt
They charged Patrick Morrison with assaulting Lockington. In court, the farmer was asked, ‘why did you not go back for your hat?’ He replied dryly, ‘would you go back if you were beaten as I was?’ However, Sergeant Houston said that ‘some of the property’ was not found. Morrison remained in custody and bail was refused. Although, I could find no further information, I suspect Morrison received a holiday courtesy of HM’s pleasure.
As for Lockington, the 1911 census shows him to be a retired farmer, even though he was only 45 years old. By that time, he was living as a boarder with a family named Reilly at Tonyin, Tullyvin. Presumably, he may have sold the farm at Cornanurney. It is unknown how his experience in Belfast may have affected him.
I remember hearing a valid piece of advice many years ago: ‘True friends are like diamonds, precious but rare. False friends are like Autumn leaves, to be found everywhere.’ Lockington learned that lesson the hard way.
YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY