Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

  TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

  Save to turn my back on a region which had now become full of gloomyassociations, I had no very definite purpose in view in that morning'sride. There was nothing to be done. The mischief to her I loved wasbeyond recall. Even those who had made themselves the agents of thisvile conspiracy had placed themselves out of reach. Tim, my ownbrother, was nominal chief to the hated band, and though he was absent,and would, I knew, have had no hand in this business, to denounce thewhole company would be only to strike at him. From Maurice Gorman,coward and time-server, there was nothing to be hoped. Not a friend wasthere on whom I could count, not an enemy on whom I could have the sorrysatisfaction of being revenged.

  As, however, the gallop through the bracing morning air produced itsnatural effect, it occurred to me to offer my services, during theremainder of my leave of absence, to Captain Swift, or, should he desireit, join the _Diana_ forthwith, and try to forget my trouble in hardwork.

  His honour's passport took me safely past the numerous patrols whichbeset my way between Malin and Derry, and which spoke much for therigour with which the new _regime_ of martial law was being enforced.Once or twice I was questioned as to the two ladies named in the pass,to which I replied that I was to foregather with them presently--which Idevoutly wished might be true.

  At Derry more than usual ceremony awaited a stranger at the gates. Iwas conducted to the guard-room, and there detained under a kind offriendly arrest for half-an-hour or so, until it suited the pleasure ofthe officer on guard to inspect me.

  When this gentleman made his appearance, I recognised, not altogetherwith delight, my old acquaintance and supposed rival, Captain Lestrange.He failed to recognise me at first, but when I reminded him of our lastmeeting in Paris, he took in who I was.

  "Those were hard times," said he. "How I ever got the ladies out ofthat terrible city I scarcely know to this day. I see you travel on MrGorman's business, and escort two ladies. Where are they?"

  "I wish I knew," said I, and gave him a full account of my ride to Malinand all that happened there.

  He heard my story with growing attention and consternation.

  "Decoyed!" he exclaimed vehemently. "The dogs shall pay for this! Iremember that scoundrel Martin."

  "Shall you go to Rotterdam?" said I.

  "I?" said he, looking at me in surprise. "I am no man of leisure justnow."

  "But report says you have a particular interest in Miss Gorman'swelfare."

  "Rumour commits many impertinences," replied he with an angry frown."For all that, I am not master of my own movements just now. I am hereto hunt down rebels; and among them, unless I mistake, a brother ofyours holds a prominent place."

  I winced.

  "At least," said I, "he never had hand either in murder, or pillage, ormeanness to a woman. He is an honest soldier, though, alas! on thewrong side."

  Captain Lestrange laughed.

  "It is the fashion of these rebels," said he, "to dignify themselves assoldiers and claim the honours of war. But when we get hold of themthey will learn that there is a difference between felony and warfare.Can you not persuade your brother out of it? I hear he is a finefellow."

  "I have tried," said I, mollified by this compliment; "but it isuseless, and at present he is not to be found."

  "That's the best place for him. As to Miss Gorman, I will go over toKnockowen and see if anything can be done to intercept the Dutchman.Meanwhile what of you?"

  "I go to join my ship."

  "Good. We may meet again, Gallagher. Our paths have met strangelybefore now. Heaven grant they may bring us out into fair weather atlast."

  I left him on the whole in good cheer. There was a blunt franknessabout him which led me to believe that were I ever to be called upon tomeet Captain Lestrange as an enemy, it would be as an honest andgenerous one. His affected indolence had already been disproved by theservice he had rendered to the ladies in Paris. His regrets as to Timshowed that he was a man in whom the kindlier instincts were not allwanting. What, however, comforted me most was his tone with regard toMiss Kit. There was nothing of the lover about the words, and toolittle of the actor about the man to lead me to suppose he was deludingme. Why should he? He was my superior in birth and rank. He hadclaims of kinship and property which pointed him out as the naturalsquire for the heiress of Kilgorman. The idea of my being a rival hadprobably never entered his head; and if it had, would have done so onlyto raise a smile of incredulous pity. But that a lover could receivethe news I brought as he did seemed quite impossible. So I went on myway, if not cheered, at least with a less heavy weight on my mind thanbefore.

  I found Captain Swift in bed with an attack of jaundice, and in a stateof high excitement.

  "How did you know I wanted you?" he said when I presented myself.

  "I did not, sir," said I. "Have you any orders for me?"

  "A despatch has come from the Admiralty," said he, "cancelling all leaveof absence. The _Diana_ being still under repair, I am appointed to the_Zebra_, now off Dublin, and ordered to sail on Saturday to join thefleet watching the Dutch off the Texel."

  I hope he put down to zeal for the service the whole of the satisfactionwith which I received this announcement. No work just then could fit inbetter with my humour than watching the Dutchmen.

  "Be ready to start by to-night's coach," said he. "I shall follow to-morrow, with or without my doctor's leave. Here is a letter I wish youto deliver at the Admiralty. Then report yourself on board. I hearshe's an ill-found craft, and no one knows what sort of crew they willrake up for us. I wish the _Diana_ hands were within call," he added tohimself.

  Next day I was in Dublin, and duly left my captain's letter at theAdmiralty. I was instructed to report myself on board the _Zebra_before sundown, as there was much work to be done getting crew andstores in order ready for our immediate departure.

  Having an hour or two at my disposal, I took a walk through the streets.Dublin, to all outward appearance, was in an orderly and peaceablestate, and gave few signs of being, what it actually was at that time,the hotbed of a dangerous rebellion. It was only when I dived into someof the lower streets near the river, and saw the mysterious and ominousgroups which hung about at the corners, and noticed the menacing lookswith which they greeted any chance passer-by who was known to be aservant of the government, that I realised that I walked, as it were, onthe edge of a volcano. How soon I was to experience for myself theterrors of that coming explosion the reader will hear.

  I had got beyond the streets and into the Park, attracted thither bystrains of martial music, when, in a retired path, I encountered agentleman dressed in a close-fitting, semi-military coat, with a greenscarf round his neck, and switching a cane to and fro as he pacedmoodily along. I recognised him as Lord Edward.

  He looked up as I approached and at once recognised me.

  "Ah, Gallagher, what news from Donegal? How is the charming fair one?"said he.

  "The charming fair one," said I, with a bitterness that startled him,"is a victim in the hands of your lordship's followers. She has beendecoyed away and carried off to Holland as an act of reprisal againsther father."

  "What?" said he. "Tell me what you mean."

  And I told him my story. He listened, switching his cane against hisleg, and watching my face with keen interest.

  "It is part of the fortune of war," said he, "that the innocent sufferfor the guilty. But this must be seen to at once. The _Scheldt_ willprobably make for Holland by the north route. If so, she will notarrive at Rotterdam for a week or two. By that time I will communicatewith some one I know near there, and see she is taken care of. Hang thefools!" muttered he. "What good can come to any one by such an act?"

  "Indeed, my lord," said I, "if I may venture to say so; Ireland haslittle to look for from her professed friends in Donegal, where privatespite and greed are the main support of your confederacy."

&nb
sp; "You are not the first who has told me that," said he gloomily. "Nodoubt you are glad to see our weakness in this quarter."

  "I should be but that my brother, although absent, is the nominal headthere, and it's little credit to him."

  "Tim Gallagher is too good a man to be wasted."

  "Do you know where he is?" I inquired.

  "Abroad on his country's service," said Lord Edward. "You must becontent with that. Here our ways part. Good-bye, my lad." And he gaveme a friendly nod.

  "Your lordship will pardon me one question. Have you any objection totell me the address of the friend in Holland to whose care you proposeto commend Miss Gorman?"

  "She is an old retainer in a kinswoman's family, one Biddy McQuilkin.She keeps a little inn on the outskirts of the Hague, called the 'WhiteAngel.'"

  "Biddy McQuilkin!" exclaimed I with excitement. "Why, she was servantto the Lestranges in Paris, who perished in 'the terror.'"

  "The same. This Biddy was overlooked, and finally escaped, and by theinterest of Madame Sillery got to Holland, and set up at this small inn,frequented by English and Irish visitors."

  It was difficult to disguise the joy which this unexpected discoveryafforded me. I bade adieu to his lordship with a grateful salute, andthen betook myself in a state of wonder and jubilation to the harbour.

  In Biddy McQuilkin were centred any hopes I entertained of righting thewrong which had been done at Kilgorman, and so of carrying out mymother's sacred bequest. Moreover, the thought that Miss Kit would findso stalwart a protector at the end of her unhappy voyage lifted a heavyweight from my mind.

  And all this relief I owed to the man whom, of all others, I, as a loyalsubject of his Majesty, was bound to consider as my country's mostdangerous enemy! Alack! I was not born to be a good hater. For as Istrode that evening through the streets of Dublin I counted this LordEdward as one of the few men for whom I would gladly have given my life.

  When in due time I procured a boat to row me out to the _Zebra_, I foundthat Captain Swift's forebodings as to the state of the ship were onlytoo well founded. The _Zebra_ was a second-rate frigate, which for someyears had been out of regular commission, doing duty on coast-guardservice, or cruising under letters of marque. She was not an ill-looking craft; though, to judge by her looks as she rode at anchor, herlines were better adapted to fast sailing than hard knocks.

  When I reported myself on board, however, I was better able tounderstand my captain's misgivings. The first lieutenant in charge wasa coarse, brutal-looking fellow, who, if he spared me some of the abusewhich he measured out to the ordinary seamen, did so because he lookedto me to take some labour off his hands.

  "It's high time you came," said he; "and unless you can lick a pack ofwolves into shape, you may as well swing yourself up at the yard-arm atonce. They seem to have emptied all the jails in Dublin to find us men;and as for stores--well, the less said about these the better."

  I was not long in discovering that he had good reasons for his gloomyopinions. The hands, whom presently I piped on deck, were as ill-assorted and ill-conditioned a lot as boatswain ever was called upon tooverhaul. Many were raw hands, who did not know one end of a mast fromthe other. Others, who knew better, appeared to be the refuse of crewswhich had rejected their worst men. And the few old salts of the rightkind were evidently demoralised and dissatisfied, both at their enforcedassociation with their present messmates and with the abrupt terminationof their leave ashore.

  As to the officers, with the exception of the first lieutenant and a fewof the petty officers who took their cue from him, they seemed a decentand fairly smart set, although few of them had been tried in activeservice, and fewer still, I fancy, had had charge of so ill-found a shipas the _Zebra_.

  One of the first complaints I was called upon to hear and report to myofficers was as to the ship's food, which was truly as scurvy andunsavoury a provision as I ever saw. Biscuits and grog and pork weresuch as the lowest slop-shop in Letterkenny would have been ashamed tosell.

  "It's good enough for hounds like them," was all I could get out of thelieutenant. "They can take it or leave it."

  The next complaint I made was on my own account, and referred to theship's stores. We had barely our complement of anchors and cables,still less any to come and go on. For reserve spars and sails and othertackle we were almost as badly off; while the ammunition and arms werecertainly not enough for a service involving any considerable action.

  The officer in charge received all these representations with the utmostindifference.

  "Get better if you can," said he; "it's all of a piece, and quite properfor a service that's gone to the dogs. Hark at those demons now! Therum seems good enough, anyhow."

  And indeed all that night the _Zebra_ was more like a madhouse than oneof his Majesty's ships. What authority there was was maintained at theend of the cat-o'-nine-tails. As for the enthusiasm and patrioticardour which are usually supposed to hail the prospect of close-quarterswith the enemy, one would have had to listen long and hard for any signof either below decks that night.

  "The best that can happen to us," said I to myself, as I turned in atlast, "is a hurricane up Channel, and the Dutch fleet at the end of it.These may hold us together; nothing else will."

  When Captain Swift came on board next evening things mended a little,for our gallant officer was a man whose name and manner both commandedrespect. At the last moment some few additional stores were broughtoff; and the little speech he made to the crew, reminding them of theirhonourable profession, and holding out a prospect of distinction andprize-money in the near future, was listened to with more respect than Ifeared it would meet. The men, through one of their number, made aformal complaint of their grievances, which Captain Swift received onhis part without resentment. The order was then given to weigh anchor,and half-an-hour later the _Zebra_ was standing out to sea on as ill-starred a voyage as vessel ever made.

  Had Captain Swift's health been equal to his gallantry and tact allmight even yet have gone well. But he came on board ill, and two daysafter we sailed he was confined to his berth with a dangerous relapse,and the fate of the _Zebra_ was left in the hands of the worst possibleman for the duty--Mr Adrian, the first lieutenant.