From the archives: Grace O’Malley was without parallel in mediaeval times

By Tom Gillespie

NINETY years ago, in January 1934, The Connaught Telegraph published a ‘special article’ on the famous Irish woman pirate, Grace O’Malley

It read: When the wind blows along the wild coast of Mayo folks will tell you that the ghost of Grainne O’Malley comes riding back on the white-plumed breakers.

On the helm of the phantom ship, the Pirate Queen sailing past, her raven tresses flying and a gleaming axe swinging by her side.

For thus they say the daring sea-robber and her powerful crew return to haunt the kingdom over which she once held sway.

As fierce and untamed as the sea she roved in search of plunder was Grainne O’Malley, and to this day, in western Ireland, tales are told of her prowess and daring.

Queen Elizabeth was on the throne of England when this bold Irish chieftain, away in the wilds of Connaught, held in subjection the most lawless men in the county - the pirates of the Atlantic coast.

Owen O’Malley was her father, and in his time he was a mighty coast lord and ruler of the Isles of Aran, then inhabited by the most intrepid matinees in Ireland.

A bold seaman and fearless fighter was Owen O’Malley, and always by his side on every piratical expedition was his dark-eyed daughter, Grainne.

And when the storm grew fierce or bright knives were flashing in battle she threw back her head and laughed in exudation.

She was only 19 when her father died, but without hesitation she assumed command of the pirate fleet. That she should have been able to do so is all the more extraordinary, because the men she ruled would not allow their ordinary womenfolk even to inherit property.

But Grainne, by the sheer force of her iron will, took her place as their queen, and very soon throughout Ireland and England her name had become notorious.

As tales of her fame and reckless daring spread, lawless and desperate characters from all parts flocked to Connaught to serve under her banner, until her fleet was strong enough to defy the whole west coast.

In Newport Bay, Clare Island, she made her stronghold, and from there she swooped down upon the stately Spanish galleons heading for home with rich and rare cargoes.

English verses too, trading between London and Galway, she fell upon and robbed, until at last she became so dangerous that she was proclaimed an outlaw.

A reward of £500 - an enormous sum in those days - was offered for her capture; but Grainne O’Malley only laughed and sailed away.

A regiment of troops was sent against her, but after a two-week battle she drove them out of Connaught.

Grainne always led her wild band of buccaneers into battle, and in a hand-to-hand fight she was more than a match for any man.

Twice she was married, and it is said that shortly after the birth of her first child, her fleet was attacked by Turkish corsairs, who had been blown off their course.

Grainne was a sick woman when the Turks fell upon them, but when she heard that her men were falling back she lept from her bed, wrapped a quilt around her and dashed up to the quarter deck with a huge blunderbuss in either hand. And there she remained until the Turks were driven back.

Grainne’s first husband was O’Donnell O’Flaherty, the warlike chieftain of the ‘ferocious O’Flaherty’s’, the most dreaded sea raiders in all Ireland, and when he died she married Sir Richard Bourke.

He was known as ‘Richard-in-iron’, because he always fought in a suit of jet-black armour.

Soon after her marriage to him Grainne placed herself under the protection of the English rule in Connaught, and she proved herself a powerful ally in consolidating their power along the western coast where, indeed, there were none brave or strong enough to stand against her.

Still she continued her piratical activities, however, and when the English protested, Grainne indignantly declared that without this means of existence she would be destitute.

“It is but my trade of maintenance,” she said.

At last in 1593, she was invited to London, and so the dark-eyed, dark-haired Queen of Connaught came sailing up the Thames to Tower Gate to meet the fair-haired, blue-eyed Queen of England.

Elizabeth offered to create Grainne a countess, but the proud she-pirate refused to accept any such favours.

“You cannot do that,” she told the Queen. “We are both equal in rank.”

She did, however, consent to accept a title for her son Toby, and he was made Viscount Mayo.

On her voyage back to Connaught, Grainne and her fleet were caught in a storm and they put into Howth Harbour for shelter.

Landing, she made their way to the castle doors, where they knocked and demanded shelter and refreshment for the night.

But the defenders of the castle, scared out of their wits when they saw the pirate ship pulling into harbour, had bolted and barred the doors, and Grainne and her men were forced to return to their boats.

Down by the water’s edge she found a beautiful child playing and discovered that it was the heir to the lord of the castle.

So, she carried it away to Connaught where she held it for one of the strangest ransoms that have ever been demanded.

Grainne returned the child on the promise that forever the doors of the castle should be thrown wide open and hospitality extended to any way-farer who demanded it. This custom was observed for centuries.

Grainne O’Malley was the most remarkable Irishwoman of all time. She is without parallel in mediaeval times.

Legend says that she is buried on Clare Island, which was her stronghold for so many years.