CHAPTER ELEVEN.
FUGITIVE BUT NOT VAGABOND.
His Honour was quite right; there was trouble enough out of that night'sbusiness. But more for me than for him.
For him, as he was then situated, playing a fast and loose game betweenthe side of order and the side of treason, the fact that his house hadbeen attacked by friends of the latter party stood him in good steadwith the former. And if any of his brother magistrates had beeninclined to suspect him of half-heartedness before, this outrage mightbe counted on to confirm his zeal for the right cause.
Under cover of this new security he was able to play even more thanbefore into the hands of the lawless party. His first act was to hushup the affair of the night attack and procure the release of the twoprisoners. His next was to abandon me to the tender mercies of thosewho sought vengeance for the blood of the dead man.
Once as I crossed the lough in a boat on his honour's business a shotacross the water, which buried itself in the gunwale, made me lookround, and I perceived one of the Rathmullan long-boats, manned by fourof the party I had overheard in the inn weeks before, in full chase.The wind was slack, and escape was almost impossible. Could I only haveused my sail I might have led them a pretty dance out into the open. Asit was, without arms, one to four, and in a little, broad-beamed tub, Icould do nothing but haul down my sail and wait their pleasure.
"Martin was right this time," I heard him who had fired the shot say, ashe leisurely reloaded.
I was in doubt whether I was to be made an end of then and there, orallowed the mockery of a trial.
"What's your will?" said I, as they came alongside. "You've no need toscratch the paint of his honour's boat, anyway."
They said nothing, but hauled me bodily into their own craft, and tiedme hand and foot.
"Save your breath," said one presently, "till it's wanted."
And I was flung like a sack on the floor of the boat.
"What'll we do with yon?" said another, knocking his oar against theKnockowen boat.
"Capsize her and let her drift," said the leader of the party.
So my old craft, which had carried me so often, and not me only but mylittle lady whom it seemed I was never to see more, was upset and turnedadrift, to carry, for all I knew, the message of my fate to any whom itmight concern.
It was almost dark already, and by the direction my captors rowed Iconcluded I was to be taken, not to Rathmullan, but to a landing-placenearer the lough mouth. They cruised about till it was quite dark, andthen put in for a point called Carrahlagh, some miles south of my oldhome on Fanad. Here my feet were loosed and I was ordered to march withmy company inland. The man with the gun walked by my side. The others,who as we went along were joined by some half-score of confederates atvarious points, who all gave a watchword on joining, talked amongthemselves eagerly.
Presently we came to a hill--one I knew well--and here the stragglersbegan to muster in larger numbers, till as we came to the hollow basinbelow the top I counted nearly fifty. A few of them I recognised as oldgossips of my father's, but for the most part they were strangers whoseemed to have come from a distance.
About ten of the number carried guns, the rest were all armed witheither clubs or sticks, while one or two carried rude pikes.
I noticed that one of my captors, not he who guarded me, was looked upto as the leader of the gathering; and when by common consent a circlewas formed, and sentinels posted, one on either side of the hollow, itwas he who stepped forward and spoke.
If he was an Irishman, his voice did not betray him. Indeed, he spokemore like an Englishman, with a touch of the foreigner at the tip of histongue.
The first part of his speech was about matters I little understood--about some Bill before the Irish Parliament at Dublin, and the effortsof the friends of the people to defeat it. Then he went on to talk ofthe great events taking place in Paris:--How the whole people were up inarms for liberty; how the king there had been beheaded, and the streetswere flowing with the blood of the friends of tyranny. From end to endof France the flag of freedom was floating. Was Ireland to be the onlycountry of slaves in Europe? She had a tyrant worse than any of whomFrance had rid herself. The English yoke was the one secret of themisery and troubles of Ireland, and so on. "Boys!" cried he, "thesoldiers of liberty are looking at you. They're calling on you to joinhands. Are you afraid to strike a blow for your homes? Must I go andtell them that sent me that the Irishman is a coward as well as a slave?There's fighting to be done, if there's only men to do it--fightingwith the men who wring the life's blood out of you and your land--fighting with the toadies who are paid by England to grind you down--fighting with the blasphemers who rob your priests and your chapels--fighting with the soldiery who live on you, and tax you, and insult yourwives and daughters. It's no child's play is wanted of you. We want nopoltroons in the cause. We know the people's friends, and we know theirenemies; and it's little enough quarter will be going on the day wereckon accounts. Arrah, boys!" cried he, letting go his foreign air fora moment and dropping into the native, "it's no time for talking at all.There's some of yez armed already; there's a gun for any mother's sonhere that will use it for the people, and swear on the book to leave theworld with one tyrant less upon it. Come up, boys, and take the oath,and shame to them that hang back."
Instantly there was a forward movement in the audience, as with shoutsand cheers they pressed towards the speaker.
He held aloft a book and recited the oath in a loud voice. As far as Iremember it bound every one to be a loyal member of the societyorganised in that district to put down the tyrant and free Ireland fromthe English yoke. It bound him, without question, to obey any commandor perform any service demanded of him in the cause. It pledged him toutter secrecy as to the existence and actions of the society. And itdoomed him to the penalty of death for any breach of his vow.
In fours, each with a hand on the book, the company advanced and tookthe vow, each man's name as he did so being written down and publiclyannounced. Even the two sentinels were called from their posts andreplaced, in order that they might join.
Finally the leader cried,--
"Is that the whole of ye?"
"No," cried my custodian, pushing me forward with the butt-end of hisgun. "There's a boy here, plaze your honour, captain, that we took thisday. It's him that gave Larry Dugan his death that night we visitedKnockowen."
The leader turned me to the moonlight and scrutinised my face sharply.
"I had forgotten him," said he; "he should have been left behind.--Thatwas a bad business at Knockowen."
"'Deed, sir," said I, plucking up a little heart at the mildness of hismanner, "I did no more than your honour would have done in my shoes; Idefended the women. And as for Larry Dugan, it was a mischance he washit."
A hurried consultation took place among the chief of the confederates,during which I was left standing in suspense.
It was against me that I had been present and overheard all thisbusiness of the oath. That, it was evident, weighed more against methan the part I had taken in the defence of the Knockowen women. Werethey to let me go now, the society would be at the mercy of my tongue.It would be simpler, as some advised, to put me out of harm's way thenand there with an ounce of lead in my head.
Presently the consultation ended.
"Give him the oath," said the leader; and the book was held out to me,while a couple of guns were pointed at my head.
It was an ugly choice, I confess. Little as I understood the nature ofthe work in hand, I had gathered enough to know that the oath sold mebody and soul to men who would stick at nothing to gain their end, andthat in taking it I became not only a traitor to the king, but anaccomplice of murder and outrage.
Yet what could I do? Young life is sweet, and hope is not to be thrownaway like a burned-out match. Besides, I longed to see Tim once morebefore I died, and--I blushed in the midst of my terror--my littlemistress.
"Loose my hands
," said I, "and give me the book."
The muzzles of the guns laid their cold touch on my cheeks as the cordwas unfastened.
Then in a sort of dream I held the book and began to repeat the words.I know not how far I had gone, or to what I had pledged myself, when asudden shout from one of the sentries brought everything to an end.
"Whisht--soldiers!" was the shout.
In a moment the hollow was almost empty. Men scuttled away right andleft like sheep at the alarm of the dog. Those who guarded me let me goand raced for the gap. The clerk left paper and pen and lantern on theground and slunk towards the rocks. I was left standing, book in hand,with but one of the party, and that one the leader, beside me.
"Kiss the book," said he in a menacing tone.
I looked at him. He was not armed, and I was as free a man as he.Quick as thought I seized the list which the clerk had dropped on theground.
"Your secret is safe," said I, flourishing it in his face, "so long asthe women at Knockowen are unhurt. But my soul and my hand are my own."
So saying I flung the book and struck him a blow on the breast whichsent him reeling back against the rock. And off I went among thebracken, thanking God for this peril escaped.
As I have often proved many a time since, the road to safety lies oftenon the side of danger. Most of the fugitives had made for the hills inan opposite direction to that towards which the sentinel had pointed. Iwent the other way, and hid myself under a broad flat rock near theroadside, guessing that no one would ever look for lurkers there.
And in so doing I was able to discover what the others would have givensomething to be sure of:--that the sentinel's alarm had been a false onealtogether, and that what he took for soldiers was no more than a partyof revellers returning from a harvest dance in high good spirits alongthe road. I even recognised some of the familiar faces I had known atFanad in the old days, and was sorely tempted to claim acquaintance.
But prudence forbade. As sure as daylight came no effort would bespared to hunt me down. For had I not the secret of this society in myown hands, down to the very list of its members? A word from me couldsmoke them in their holes like rats in a drain. It was not likely Ishould be allowed to remain at large; and when caught next time, I mightpromise myself no such good luck as had befallen me to-night.
So I lay low till the road was clear, and then struck north for Fanad,where I knew nooks and crannies enough to keep me hid, if need be, for amonth to come.
For a week I lodged uncomfortably enough in one of the deep caves thatpierce the coast, which at high tide was unapproachable except byswimming, and at low so piled up with sea-weed at its mouth as to seemonly a mere hole in the cliff. Here, on a broad ledge high beyond reachof the tide, I spent the weary hours, living for the most part on sea-weed, or a chance crab or lobster, cooked at a fire of bracken or hay,collected at peril of my life in the upper world.
Once as I peeped out I saw a boat cruising along the shore, anddiscovered in one of its crew no other than he who had acted as leaderof the gathering of a week ago. So near did they come that I could evenhear their voices.
"You're wastin' your time, captain, over a spalpeen like that. Sure, ifhe's alive he's far enough away by this time."
The leader turned to the speaker and said,--
"If I could but catch him he would not travel far again. Was there nonews of him at Knockowen?"
"'Deed no; only lamenting from the ladies when his empty boat cameashore."
Then they passed out of hearing, never even looking my way. At last,when I judged they had abandoned the pursuit for a time and werereturned to Rathmullan, I ventured out on to the headland, and one dayeven dared to walk as far as to the old cabin at Fanad.
It had become a ruin since I saw it last. The winter's winds had liftedthe thatch, and the wall on one side had tumbled in. There was no signof the old life we lived there. The little window from which theguiding light had shone so often was fallen to pieces. Even thefriendly hearth within was filled with earth and rubbish.
I left it with a groan; it was like a grave. As I wandered forth,turning my way instinctively to the old landing-place, a flash of oarsover the still water (it was a day of dead calm) sent my heart to mymouth. The place was so desolate that even this hint of life startledme. Who could it be that had found me out here?
Quick as thought I dropped on my hands and knees and crawled in amongthe thick bracken at the path-side. There was one place I remembered ofold where Tim and I had often played--a deep sort of cup, grown full ofbracken, and capped by a big rock, which to any one who did not know itseemed to lie flat on the soil. Hither I darted, and only just in time,for the boat's keel grated on the stones as I slipped into cover.
I peered out anxiously and as best I could without showing myself. Bytheir footsteps and voices there were two persons. And when they camenearer, and I caught a momentary glance as they climbed the path to thecabin, I recognised in one of them the face of one of my late captors.
Whether they were here after me or on some other mischief I could notguess. But I hid low, as you may fancy.
Then a sudden thought came to me. The boat was down at the pier. Whyshould I stay where I was, hunted like a partridge, while across thelough I should at least be no worse off, and have seven clear miles ofwater between me and my pursuers? Now was my time if ever. Besides--and once more I think I blushed, even under the bracken--on the otherside of the lough was my little Lady Kit.
So while the two men walked up the steep path to the cabin I slippedfrom my hiding-place and ran down to the boat. And a minute later I wasclear of the land, with my bows pointing, as they had pointed so oftenbefore, for the grim turrets of Kilgorman.
Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798 Page 12