CHAPTER XII.
DANGER.
Through Madam Gillin Terence heard of these things, and was frettedbeyond measure in his seclusion. The plot was ripe. Vague tales ofsuccour were wafted from France, but the conspirators knew better nowthan to lean on broken reeds. They were resolved to make a franticeffort on their own account, independent of extraneous aid. Men candie but once. Death by rope or musket-ball would be preferable to suchlife as this--life with a brutal soldiery at free quarters in thehouses; with triangles in every barrack-yard, each bearing itsquivering burthen. Details had been laboriously gone into by Terenceand the Wexford chiefs. The project was complete in all its details.The counties were to rise simultaneously at a given signal. TheViceroy and the members of his privy council were each to be capturedin his bed. A detachment was to seize the artillery at Chapelizod; asecond was to storm Kilmainham and set free the patriot leaders. Itwas the old plan which had always proved abortive; could it be broughtto fruition now? Horses would be in waiting, so that each leader couldescape and scamper off to assume the post allotted to him. The menwere enthusiastic, the Wexford chiefs declared, and built great hopeson the fact of having a noble in their ranks. The only objection whichTerence's anxious eye could detect was that the lower order among thepriests were assuming an authority to which they were not entitled;one which, by reason of their want of education, might provemischievous. Tone, in all his letters, had always laid stress uponthis point.
'Keep the priests out of it,' he had constantly written to Miss Wolfe(Terence remembered it now). 'They will mean well, but areoutrageously illiterate and given to fable, which might have apernicious effect, their influence being enormous.'
A certain Father Roche and a Father Murphy were never weary of writingletters, suggesting changes, offering wild advice. It would be wellfor the Church militant to be nipped in the bud. The leaders now inKilmainham should be warned to see to this. Councillor Crosbie wouldhave liked more muskets and a supply of gunpowder. What a pity it wasthat the French attempts had failed! After all, it was perhaps betteras it was. The pike was the weapon for Pat; and though many had beencaptured, the land was bristling with them. Cars, too, would beuseful for barricades. The small farmers must be told to keep theirmarket-cars in constant readiness. Terence's eye scanned the details.They were not to be improved. All was ready.
Nothing remained but to fix a day. New Year's Eve was suggested, inorder that the year 1798 might be well begun. It was amazing anddisheartening to find how impossible it was for Pat to keep a secret.A week before the old year expired, proclamations appeared on all thewalls, which showed that Government was aware of what was doing. Eachhouseholder was commanded, under pain of flogging, to chalk a list onthe outer door of the persons who dwelt upon his premises; with theexception (so ran the quaint document) of those who might be sufferingfrom pecuniary embarrassment, whose names were to be transmittedprivately to the Lord Mayor. He was likewise bidden to see that no oneunder his roof went forth into the street between nine at night andfive in the morning. Could the conspirators doubt that somehow theirevery movement was reported?
Madam Gillin, who, strive to control herself as she would, wasfeverishly excited about the future, discussed the plot in all itsbearings with her guest when shutters were shut and curtains drawn. Itwas a marvel, she declared, that his retreat had remained so longundiscovered. It was a narrow escape though, when the yeomanryarrived; but that was evidently due to accident. There was no cause tosuspect treachery there. It spoke well for the country chiefs--atleast the few who had been let into the secret; for a thousand poundsis a tidy nest-egg--a by no means despicable windfall. She liked thoseleaders whom she had seen when pretending to visit her doctor inDublin. The best of them was a certain Mr. Bagenal Harvey--a nicegintleman--one of the few who has much personal property at stake.'He's prudent too, for an Irishman. And so are you, my child!' sheremarked, laying a plump hand affectionately on his arm. 'You've nevereven told your mother where you're hid. I verily believe she hates meso that, if she knew, she'd write and tell the chancellor!'
'I fear she doesn't care,' returned Terence, sadly. 'Nor does Doreen.'
The strange look of compassion flitted across the face of his hostesswhich he had observed there before. She muttered something which hedid not catch, but he knew by the tone that it was uncomplimentary toher ladyship.
'You mustn't think ill of my lady,' he said, with an attempt atcheerfulness. 'Indeed, she so dotes on Shane that there's no room inher heart for poor me! He quite filled up that shrine before ever Icame into the world. If I thought she would have been anxious, I wouldhave informed her. But nobody cared, so I told nobody--except one.'
'You told some one! Who was that?'
'A trusty old friend of long standing--true as gold, if a littlestupid--Tim Cassidy. By-the-bye, he said you didn't like him. He'sgood, but not clever; though I've been a little shaken of late as tothe weakness of his intellect. It's wonderful how circumstances bringpeople out!'
Madam Gillin sat bolt upright, her fat hands clasped round her fatknees.
'You told _him!_' she cried aghast.
'Yes. Do not fear. He's playing a useful game, if a shady one. Each ofus must do what he can, you know.'
Mrs. Gillin was so taken aback that, to conceal her emotion, sheretired abruptly from the garret, and stared out of the landing-windowto consider this intelligence.
'A useful game for _himself_,' she murmured. '_He_ knows--he who haswrecked them all--and has left this one here so long with a thousandpounds upon his head! What can he mean? Can he in this be sincere? No.The days of miracles are past.'
Madam Gillin had seen our friend Cassidy once without his jovial mask.It is astonishing how deceived we are in people! We may live with themon familiar terms for years, and discover at last by a gleam thattheir real selves are quite other from what we thought. Sometimes thegleam never comes at all. How many sons are there who never knew theirmothers? How many mothers who have never known their sons--the realperson with the veil withdrawn? Madam Gillin had seen Cassidy oncewhen he was himself, and felt satisfied that he could never be trueexcept to his own interests. Then this new position which looked thedarker for the light she could throw on it, twisted itself in hermind, displaying all its facets. _He_ knew that the young man, on whomso much depended, had been lying for weeks and weeks in ambush at theLittle House. Why did he leave him there? Was he waiting for thereward to be doubled? When the moment arrived for her _protege_ to betaken--when he chose to speak, what would become of HER? He wouldsurely ruin her. Could the judges save her from the penalties whichwould accrue from taking a Protestant under age to mass, as well asharbouring an arch-rebel?
'Well, I can't help it,' she said aloud, mentally tossing up thesponge. 'I've done what I thought right. It's difficult to see theway. He must be got out of this while there's time, and New Year's Eveso near, too! Oh that I had learnt this before!' Painful misgivingspossessed her mind. 'Pray God and the Holy Mother that the poor boymay be spared!' she whispered. 'Knowing what I do, it's bitterly sorryI am for him. That proud mother of his will burn for what she's doingsome time or other, though she's happy now.'
Mrs. Gillin, argus-eyed as she thought herself, could not know thatthe chatelaine of Strogue had already passed through a part of thetravail of her punishment. She had to judge by the face, which was amask--the face which was stony and cold enough--as cold as a face ofmarble.
Suddenly (as she meditated) the buxom lady saw something which causedher to crouch down and draw hastily back from the window.
'It's come!' she murmured; 'I felt it _here_ in my heart. What a mercythat he told me, or it would have come on us unawares! Norah!' shecalled with caution down the stairs, 'send Phil up here this minute.'Then she sped to the garret. 'My lad,' she said quickly, 'hurry now!Get through the trap on to the roof. Phil must do the same. I'll tidythe place in a jiffy! Ye can both lie cosy in the valley of the roof.'
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p; 'What's the matter?' asked Terence, without moving.
'Matter enough. There's a party coming down the road. I'll stake myhead it's Sirr or some of them. They're coming to look for you!'
'Then give them some of your Lafitte, my second mother!' laughedTerence, carelessly, 'and pack them about their business.'
'No,' Mrs. Gillin said, 'I can't explain now. They must go over thehouse, and be convinced that ye're not in it; and to-night we'll packye somewhere else for safety.'
There was no withstanding her energy. The two young men obeyed theirperemptory hostess, marvelling much at her. It was Sirr, sure enough.His peculiar stoop could be recognised a mile off. Behind him were adozen redcoats.
Mrs. Gillin was snipping dead twigs with a large pair of scissors; shewore a loose green kerchief over her turban, so unbecomingly arrangedthat it was evident she expected no visitors. Norah was dutifullyholding a basket. How idle of the gardener to have neglected to trimthose hedges! Old Jug sat crooning in the wintry sun, her eyestwinkling like beads from under a tangle of sandy elf-locks andflopping cap, her favourite dudheen between her lips.
'Misthress dear!' she croaked between two puffs of smoke, 'it's themeejor.'
But that lady was too much absorbed in gardening to hear.
'Good-day, madam,' quoth Sirr, wrinkling down his brow-tufts with asmirk, and saluting in military fashion.
'Bless the pigs, meejor! is it you?' she cried, throwing down herscissors. 'Ye've called to ask after my arm? It's mighty kind! Theruffin gave my poor hand a terrible wrench, and sprains are slow tocure. The bleeding's stopped this long while, but the docthor's eatingthe sowl out of me. I go to be bandaged three times a week. It's notyour boys, meejor, that would outrage a leedy so!'
Major Sirr was disconcerted, and began to stammer:
'Glad ye're better, madam--hugely glad! I would not for the world doanything disagreeable to a lady--but business is business, isn't it?'
'What's up?' cried the amazed little woman.
'I'm here, I regret to say, on painful business. May we come inside?Thank you!'
'The meejor's always welcome,' affably returned the other, with one ofthose superb but ceremonious curtseys wherewith she was wont toelectrify the Viceroy. Then, plucking off the kerchief, she whisperedaudibly to Norah, 'Begorrer, it's rooned we are! To be seen with asquare of green silk round mee ould noddle! But the meejor won'ttell.'
Major Sirr observed with sorrow that the lady was not so cordial asusual. There was an air of suspicious virtue with the ears set backwhich distressed him, for he was really partial to her, though heloved her claret better.
''Tis with deepest pain----' he was beginning, when she cut him short.
'Give tongue!' she said curtly. 'What ails you?'
This was a slap in the face. He was accustomed to be fondled andcaressed by those whom it was his painful duty to flay alive. Shecould not be so hoighty-toighty if afraid.
'You are right,' he returned; 'business is business. I regret to say Imust search your house, for I've reason to know that CouncillorCrosbie is concealed here. I advise you to produce him, and have donewith it.'
Oh, Major Sirr! Major Sirr! You should have sent your better-half tocope with Mrs. Gillin. What are a dozen men against one woman, in abattle of wits? What are two dozen men against one woman whose bloodis roused, who stands like a tigress 'twixt her whelp and danger?
Major Sirr expected her to change colour, to betray at least a quiverof the lip, a tremor of the fingers; then, recovering herself, to denylargely and pour forth claret with effusion. Such signs would havebeen the sure tokens of guilt, and he would have known how to actaccordingly.
Instead of this she stabbed him, rather too hard for playfulness, withher scissors, and skipped away laughing with elephantine grace. Thenwagging her turban at him (which was wofully awry), she set her handsakimbo on her high waistband, thereby sending her elbows almost to thelevel of her ears, and remarked with unusual bluntness:
'Pah! ye stink of the Staghouse! Stale blood and brains! Go on,hangman; do your worst. Mr. Crosbie _was_ here--has been here forweeks. I won't deny, since ye know all about it. If ye hadn't been adolt, ye'd have found him long ago. Why, he walked out with Norah eachevening on the shore. He was here when the yeoman blackguards woundedand hurt my arm. Do ye think, if it was otherwise, I'd have stooped togive them drink? Not likely! Mr. Crosbie _was_ here, but the bird'sflown. You may well look glum. Sorra a drop of the crathur your men'llget out of me this day. Go, search the house; turn it inside out. Helived in the right-hand garret. Ye'll find some of his things about,though he's in Wexford by this time. Here are all my keys (except thecellar key). Search!'
This was disheartening. Behaviour coarse and rude. But duty is duty.Sirr stooped to pick up the keys, which had been tossed to his feet,and, wrapping himself in a rag of dignity, proceeded to examine thepremises. It was as she said. There was no one there, though therewere signs of recent occupation. Ruefully the major looked into thedining-parlour. There were no nice things laid out for his behoof.
'I've only done my duty,' he urged, as he clutched the virtuous lady'sfat hand. 'Don't be cross with me. I'm glad my mission's failed,though I should have won a thousand by it--there!'
But she shook him off and swept away, murmuring over her shoulder,with sniffing nostrils, that she had done with him; would never meethim as a friend again (though her house was open to examinationwhensoever he was anxious for an outrage); that she would take it as apersonal favour if he would save her the pain of cutting him dead inpublic; for under no conditions whatsoever would she consent tocondone this insult.
Sirr was sorry, but shrugged his shoulders. He ordered his men tomarch on to Strogue. Perhaps the culprit was not gone to Wexford, butwas lying perdu in the vaults of the ancient Abbey. Mrs. Gillinscreamed to old Jug, from an upper window, to run round to Larry inthe farm-buildings, and bid him bring out the carriage. She must go toDublin to the doctor. Her nerves were rooned now, as well as herspirits and poor arm.
Then, closing the window, she called on the fugitives to come forth.
'There's no time to be lost,' she said. 'Sirr suspects nothing, butthe other will. The serpent! He is capable of coming down himself, ina friendly way, to spend the evening; and that's more than I couldendure, even for you.'
'Of whom do you speak?' asked Terence, bewildered.
'Don't chatter!' interrupted the kind lady. ''Twill be twilight in anhour or so. You must get out of this before Sirr gets back, andreports to the other what he's done. Then the brute may come, andwelcome. It'll be a pleasure to laugh at him. Sirr'll be an hour or sorummaging through the Abbey. Meanwhile you'll take my place in thecoach. You're just my size and figure. Your arm looks awful bad. Youwant a doctor sadly. But that gossoon there; he can't go too, as I'vealways gone alone. Unlucky! He can't stay, either; that's certain.What'll we do at all?' She tore off the soiled turban to rub her head,for the better coaxing of her ingenuity. Presently she clapped herhands. 'That's it. Ye'll go separate to the same rendezvous. You,Phil, shall go first, for ye must walk. It's like a masquerade in thegood old times; yet my heart is dreadful sore--ochone!'
Rapidly Madam Gillin produced some sailor-slops which her own boatmanused to wear when she took her pleasure on the bay. 'Phil will wearthese and start at once,' she explained. 'His face must not be seen;it's too well known. In the boathouse yonder he'll find a coil ofrope. He must bear it on his shoulders as a motive, and let a loop ortwo fall over his forehead. Be off now, and be careful. Take a knife,in case of accidents. Ye must be clear off before Sirr returns fromthe Abbey. If by ill-luck ye were to come face to face, stab at hislegs. He wears a coat of mail. _I felt it with my scissors_. Away!'
Phil departed, quite glad of the excitement, delighted to breakthrough his long and weariful incarceration.
Terence was packed in the celebrated wrapper, which once to see wasnever to forget. A beaver bonnet and veil covered his head. An arm wasdeftly bandaged. He stepped into the coach, drew up th
e glasses, andleaning back in the shadow as the coachman whipped his horses, beganto collect his thoughts. Whew! What a whirl it was! Why dear MadamGillin should suddenly become nervous, and wag her plumes so, he couldnot imagine. Unpleasant things are ofttimes for the best. Concealed inthe capital itself he would be all the better able to superintend inperson the proceedings of New Year's Eve. Yes! It was quite fortunatethat she should thus have sent him off. He would see some of thedelegates that very evening; concert passwords and signals. Fiveminutes' talk is worth a dozen letters. He would send round forCassidy, who, faithful to his _role_, should be able to unravel forthem the ins and outs of the Castle tactics, some of which seemedhazy. He would---- What was that? Sirr and his men! Then they had notlingered at the Abbey, but had started Dublinwards before him? Nomatter. All was right. The major had peered into the carriage, and,perceiving the wounded arm and well-known wrapper, had turned away hishead abruptly. How cleverly Mrs. Gillin had managed the whole thing!Why had she taken such a fancy to him? If he were her own son, shecould not be more loving and considerate.--What was that? A manbending under a load. Phil, of course. How slow he walked! Sirr's menseemed stepping out. Please Heaven they would not overtake him. No.And if they did, what then? A boor with a burthen of rope. A guiltyconscience; how it racks and torments us about nothing!
Hark! a sound--audible through the rumbling coach-wheels. A shout--acry! Unable to resist the impulse, Terence lowered a glass andprotruded his head, with the beaver bonnet and veil. Great heavens!The soldiers had gained on Phil, whose burthen impeded movement; had,from sheer brutality, torn it from him and disclosed his features. Hehad been recognised! Sirr saw through the trick, and shook his fistwith balked fury. He was gesticulating in the road. Some soldiers werehailing the coach from afar, but Larry whipped his horses with a will.Some more, jumping a ditch, had broken through a hedge and vanished.Poor Phil! he would be murdered. Was it not base to leave him thusunaided? Yet--the Cause. Terence felt that his life was not his own.Eagerly he looked backwards as the road took a loop-turn. He must seethe last of poor Phil--probably the very last of his faithfulhenchman. Phil had ceased struggling. Terence drew in his head, and,man though he was, burst into a flood of tears. Poor, faithful Phil!What a sad end!
Half-way betwixt Strogue and Dublin the road leaves the shore, andwinds inland with an intricate series of doubles--arranged so for thebenefit of certain small villa-holders, round whose tiny propertiesthe way meanders. Terence forgot this fact, so absorbed was he in thefate of his attached servant, otherwise he would have seen his danger,and, throwing off his disguise, would have trusted to a hare's tacticsin the open. But, clad in woman's attire, he was weeping like a woman,and bemoaning his fate, when the carriage came to a standstill with ashock. A detachment of soldiers, taking a short cut, had come upon thecarriage, and, springing on the bits, had thrust back the horses ontheir haunches.
Deception was futile now. Dragging off the ignoble bonnet and wrapper,Terence sprang lightly out, and drawing a pistol, prepared to barterhis life against as many of the foe as possible.
One man shot poor Larry on his box, lest he should take part in thescuffle; another hamstrung the off-horse, which whinnied, and leapedup with pain. The shot was answered by a hulloo and rush of feet.Through the hedge-gap appeared Sirr, breathless but foaming, urging onhis men, two of whom dragged Phil, an inert mass, between them.
'Murther!' groaned Phil. 'That the masther should be tuk, and throughme!'
'Yes,' jeered Sirr; 'we have him now. Having detected you, I knew atonce that he could not be far off!'
Terence discharged his pistols with good effect. A man fell to each ofthem. Then, drawing a dagger, he leaned his back against a tree.
Sirr, as his way was on these occasions, withdrew to the rear, contentwith egging on his hounds from a safe distance. The men waited for asecond, watching the eye of the man who stood at bay. Phil saw hisopportunity, and took it. With a jerk he freed himself, stabbed onefellow, and, lunging at another, slipped, and tumbled on the moistearth. But he was not to be thus foiled. Wriggling along the ground,he reached Major Sirr, and slashed him across both legs, who,springing into the air with a howl, tossed away the sword-cane that hehad unsheathed and fell disabled. Phil caught it, and stabbed theshrieking major again and again till it broke. 'Right she was!' hesaid; 'the dastard does wear mail!'
The diversion seemed likely to save Terence, who, turning, spedswiftly along the furrows, favoured by sinking twilight.
'Run, masther, run!' Phil screamed. 'Please the Lord, he'll be safeyet.'
'Dead or alive!' howled Sirr, who clawed the ground with his fingersin his pain.
A man levelled his musket and fired. Terence turned like a top,dropped on his knees, then struggling up, moved on as swiftly asbefore. Another fired, but missed. The fugitive flew on, but not sofast. A mere youth outstripped him, and stooping down in front,tripped him by the feet. Both fell heavily. The bigger of the twobeing uppermost--his right arm swinging loose--made a desperate effortto throttle the boy with his left hand. It took several men, pressinghis chest with heavy muskets, to tear his prey from him, and bind himin such a way as to prevent further resistance.
Terence and Phil were taken to the provost, whilst Sirr (vowingvengeance especially against the latter) was borne away to have thewounds dressed which disfigured his comely calves.
Madam Gillin sat at home in a perspiration, waiting for news. No news!That looked well. It was dawn before she sought her couch, determinedto try and sleep. A hubbub aroused the three occupants of the LittleHouse. What was it? eight o'clock! An enormous detachment of soldiers'wives, with kettles, equipage, and baggage, demanding hospitality,producing an official order to that effect. Free quarters; and forwomen, too--the dirty, drunken drabs! Madam Gillin clasped her fathands in anguish. Then the stratagem must have been discovered. Onehad been taken--which? or both? Oh, Heaven! Would no one tell her?
A blowsy wife, more compassionate than the rest, said that all theworld knew by this time that the meejor had won the big reward.
Madam Gillin tightened her lips, and said no more, while Jug whistledlamentations through her gums. 'It's the curse of Crummell on thefarriers--breed, seed, and branch. If he'd gone alone he'd have beensafe.' Which, in all probability, was true enough, though not becausePhil chose to wield a firing-iron. But Madam Gillin would not listento her nurse. Poor lad! To be taken without striking a blow--withouteven the threadbare satisfaction which belongs to a leader of forlornhopes--of laying down life, perhaps, but at a heavy price. What anunjust world it is! Mrs. Gillin felt it more and more.
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 2 (of 3) Page 12