THE SLAVES OF EDENDERRY

Hidden as far back as I could among the large stack of potato sacks as it came into the Lough, I watched some of the other boats with their cargos of lost souls unload their pitiful bounty in chains upon the shore .

Most of the Slave trader boats had come in from the white ford at the junction of the river Lagan , the lough and the River Farset .

I was still just a boy of ten years and had no proper education. My journey to Belfast was one of hope and view of finding work .It was said to me that there was plenty of work in the large linen mills of Belfast. As luck had it I had escaped slavery and jumped onto a potato boat that brought me to the River Lagan. It was at low tide when I arrived and my first footsteps on Irish soil were taken in freedom, without chains.

I made my way through Belfast and found the hills above Belfast a perfect place to hide for a while. In a short period I made myself known to the people of Wolf Hill. I was known as the Wolf Man of the Hills. I longed for a place of my own and knew I had to find work.

It was early on in month of when I walked down from the hill of the Wolves. I followed a small stream that met another small streams that took me to a village called Edenderry. I was instantly attracted to the industry that was Edenderry. Fine Irish linen.

A few years later I had myself a job inspecting the cloth inside one of the Linen Mills. The work inside the mill was hard, the concrete floor was unkind to my bare feet but the work was plentiful. The demand for linen grew and soon bleaching machinery was introduced to the linen Mill.

I tried to do what I was told. I even worked without pay. It was expected in the industry especially if you wanted to keep your job. Michael Andrews, my employer from the County Down had opened a group of businesses in Belfast and it was himself who built small homes on a number of acres in the town land of Edenderry, the town where I gradually worked my way up and established myself as the supervisor on the floor.

The business grew and grew. In a very short time I was a foreman and in charge of hiring and firing. I chose and added more workers to the Mill and also provided them with homes in the attractive little village with its bell tower and clock, its pebbled square and its bell-man calling out the hours at night.

In time the quiet village of Edenderry foamed up into a town, with new houses built everywhere, new workers coming in to put in their sweat at the factory floor. Everyday after dinner I would walk the quiet village streets and admire the snow-white homes, with the green shrubbery serving the role of the quiet accompanist.

It was only a matter of time until the Slave Traders approached me - growth of business meant a cut in the pay rates, they reasoned. And as the world would have it, they flourished in their trade. They flourished until I was able to bring them one by one tied up in potato sacks to The Hill Of The Wolves. As the Wolves de-immortalized those fools I was able to set many captives free. Many of those slaves like myself worked hard and became small business people .The people of Edenderry always were friendly with me - I was given a small white cottage to live in by my employer. Each day as another slave boat would come into the Lough I would make the special journey in an old horse and cart up the road from Edenderry to Ligoniel and the Hill of the white lime quarries were the Wolves howled at the moon, my special cargo loaded and unloaded in secrecy.

But alas, the white trail of limestone from the White mountain which had been used to surface the Crumlin, Ligoniel , and Shankill roads spelled my doom.

It was on these snowy white roads in the summer time when the glare of the crushed limestone was so great that one of the sacks fell out of the cart right in the path of a passing policeman. I was arrested and charged with the murder of twenty slave traders.

In the Mill where I had helped many a plan was put into action to free me. One evening a crowd had gathered at John's Hill armed with stones and Pitchforks. As the riots broke out all of the police force were summoned to break up the disturbance. But also that night a small group of lads had come to break me out from prison and as I rushed with them through the streets that had brought me work and a home I knew only too well that it was time to leave. So with my forgotten name and my forgotten fame I got on to a boat that took me all over the world..

For the past thirty years and more I have been at sea. With one terrible tragedy after another I have embraced my sentence and endured the years well.

I still long to return to the streets of Edenderry and wonder if there is anyone there who will remember the Wolf Man. Maybe all the people I once knew will have moved or passed away. God knows. I only hope and pray that there are no more slaves there.

From a slave of the sea to the saints of Edenderry I wish you freedom and a place called home.