The Watchman's Grace

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The Watchman's Grace Page 64

by Craig Johnson


  “Peter, this news has caused me great distress, though I am pleased you were rescued by such valiant, honorable men. I fear my grief would be beyond repair if we were to lose you in this enterprise. It is my sincere hope your path ahead will encounter no further complications in achieving a successful departure.

  “You shall leave tonight at first cover of nightfall for the town of Tuam. Your journey should take less than three hours with a rested horse. Connor will brief you on the back trails to ride this route, which have a minimum of public exposure. There is no time for your former method of passage between towns. You must leave this Island as soon as practical.

  “Wait patiently in Tuam overnight while I finalize arrangements for your ship. Tonight your host will be a lone man whom will greet you on arrival at Greenstone Cottage. His safe house has been used for special situations in the past, and he is very loyal to our cause. He will furnish your final instructions the next morning.

  “Make no mistake Peter; when you leave Tuam the most dangerous part of your journey begins. I fear our opponents will be on high alert for your presence very soon. If the Security Force were to capture you again, they will not make another mistake. So you must exercise the best of caution.

  “All your Dublin family sends its love and best wishes. Godspeed be with you son.”

  Peter came off his mount and walked towards Darragh and Keenan. “All seems to be in place for my new plans, which include remaining at Duncanmore for a while yet. I give my sincere thanks to all the gentlemen from Free Eire Homeland. Let me wish you both a safe journey with good fortune at your side.”

  After placing the note into his coat pocket, Peter shook the extended hands of Darragh and then Keenan. Darragh spoke parting words as they prepared to ride off.

  “Peter Harvey, to have known you a day is a pleasure in a lifetime. I hope you find nothing but the best in all your endeavors. Fare you well my friend.”

  Both men rode down Duncanmore’s stately lane towards the main road. Peter stood waving intermittently until they became distant specks on near horizon. Then he made his way back towards the manager’s cottage. Connor was reading correspondence as he entered.

  “Connor, I need to find some rest before my departure. It would be hard indeed to remember the last time I had a decent night’s sleep. Do you have a spare cot where I can lay my head down?”

  He motioned to a door in the far corner. “Use my bedroom if you’d like. I will be working on Duncanmore’s accounts all day. When evening falls I will come to wake you. As well, I will make sure some food is prepared for your journey ahead. Is there anything else you need Peter?”

  “Thank you Connor. I will see you later on.” Peter went inside the room to where a comfortable bed beckoned his weary body. Before long he was in deep slumber.

  Peter woke with a start hours later to hear steady rapping on the bedroom door. He took a moment to collect his senses before realizing who was on the other side.

  “Yes Connor,” he called out. “Sorry for my tardiness in answering. I must have been lost in sleep and shall be out shortly.”

  When Peter came upon Connor he was hunched over the same large table with a mess of papers strewn about. His efforts were immersed fully in the task about him. Yet when he heard Peter’s presence his head craned upwards from the clutter of accounts.

  “I trust your rest was satisfying. By the door are biscuits, preserves and fruits packed for your journey ahead. As well, here is some currency for further emergencies.”

  Connor opened a locked drawer and placed two hundred pounds sterling before Peter. “There is another matter related to all this I wanted to broach with you. I hesitate to bring it up at risk of sounding familiar, though will ask if you wish.”

  “How could I have issue with you after all the assistance you’ve given to me? Let’s hear what concerns you.”

  Connor felt emboldened to continue after receiving such praise. “Not a concern Peter. It has more to do with you. I mean, you’ve been running for days on end for your life, and before that all those months without stopping while toiling for the rights of our citizens. I only think it proper someone asks if there is something you wish to have done on your behalf?

  “Whether your escape is successful or not, chances are you shall be lost to your mother and grandfather for a very long time. I know there must be parting words you wish to leave them. My question is what they would be?”

  Peter paused in deep reflection at those stirring words. Perhaps to shield his emotions from hard logic he never truly pondered Kilmarnie as of late. Though in his heart it was always there, a painful severance which had no name but hurt all the same.

  Looking over Connor’s desk, he snatched a blank piece of paper and pencil. For a few minutes he wrote with concentrated effort. Then he spoke to Connor.

  “This is a letter which you can send by post to my mother and grandfather in Kilmarnie. Here is the address. Enclose those sterling notes inside along with this.” Peter took off his treasured college ring and placed it with the other items.

  “My letter represents remembrance in my mind of what they mean to me. Those notes will provide some comfort which I will no longer be able to directly provide. And this ring gives a physical connection to something that was always close upon my person. Through these things I have symbolized heart, protection and connection; all three I give to thee.”

  Connor was moved by Peter’s poignant delivery. He was also relieved to hear such a positive reception to his lingering musings. Now the hour was upon them to prepare for Peter’s journey to Tuam.

  “Will be my pleasure to send these things along to your family Peter,” he responded. “The time has come for your departure. Make sure you’re prepared for the adventure ahead.”

  Peter smiled knowingly. “Only thing for me to do is mount a fresh horse before riding off to Greenstone Cottage. Take good care Connor Healy. I shall never forget your assistance in my hours of need. And Godspeed in all that comes your way.”

  Both men strode out of the stone building towards the stables. Connor selected one of their best horses to carry Peter on his way. After shaking hands while exchanging well wishes, Peter set off towards his next safe house.

  Connor’s detailed instructions left little to chance in their accuracy. Peter navigated the ride with some ease. For the first time since his escape, he felt some semblance of independence, thoroughly enjoying every delicious minute.

  Unrestricted in nature’s elements with the cool evening wind slapping his face, there was no need to conceal his presence to impartial night. Though Peter knew this feeling was fleeting, as certain obstacles still conspired to end his freedom. With that in mind he steeled his focus further.

  Little more than three hours after departing Duncanmore he rode down an isolated stretch of wooded path. Where it ended revealed large gentle rises rimmed by a lengthy, meandering stone fence. Noting an engraved sign at the entrance, he knew this was none other than Greenstone Cottage.

  Peter dismounted, tying his horse to the open post. Unlike previous encounters, there were no separate quarters tonight. Here he would be staying under the same roof as his guardian. With some anxiety he walked towards the main entrance, knocking firmly on the sturdy wooden door.

  In a moment it flung open to reveal Peter’s keeper. He was not prepared for the sight which greeted his eyes. Peter stood in stunned silence before saying anything. Even then his words were few.

  “My goodness, how can this be?” he exclaimed. “There has to be a grave mistake in all of this!”

  Greenstone’s owner appeared unfazed by his guest’s startled reaction. “Welcome Peter Harvey to my humble abode. Come inside and take the chill off your bones young man!”

  Peter hesitated before the man placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to lead him inside. After offering him a comfortable seat in the glow of a warming hearth, his
host began to speak.

  “These are strange times Peter Harvey, of that I would be first to agree. We have seen things in the last few decades which would make a proper gentleman blush in absolute shame. So it is within a hard country like ours where uncommon alliances are formed. My peculiar association started before you came to Kilmarnie.”

  Peter looked with some suspicion at Greenstone’s owner. How could Peter ever have guessed this man held his fate in those weathered hands? Who knew he would aid him, the legendary great dark hero of common rights in Ireland? No, he reasoned. There had to be more behind such blatant irony.

  “Do you realize just how uncomfortable this whole encounter feels to me? Why should I not believe the Security Force will be arriving at any instant?”

  “The fact you say those words means I am still one of the best operatives in this network! Believe me, if that were the case you would have already been arrested. I’m a better planner than that. So let me put you at ease with how this all came to be.

  “I’ll take you back to a windswept coastal village called Kilmarnie. Back to where I am known to all as a hearty innkeeper with upper class aspirations. These days it is perfect cover, though it was not always an act. You see, after The Famine, business went from comfortable to slowing considerably. It was difficult, though not a problem.

  “Trade continued to muddle through until the holder of a note on my building started putting his screws to me. I had missed a couple months’ of installment payments. He threatened to take possession of my other properties as well if I did not square the balance immediately. These were his rights under the note agreement I had signed.

  “I was desperate Peter, though knew of no one who could satisfy such a large sum immediately. Then one day Donal Cleary walked into my place for a pint. You know him as the teacher for our school in Kilmarnie of course.

  “Well, I always fancied him as an upstanding lad, so I laid my burden on him. Wouldn’t you know it if Donal told me he would look into the matter? I was only seeking a shoulder to cry on, and this offer of assistance came from nowhere! Thinking it just soothing talk, I paid no heed to his words.

  “Then, twenty four hours before that bastard Cunningham was due to take his piece of me, Donal shows up with this stranger and his solicitor. Let me tell you Peter, he was not from these parts! He was a true gentleman in every respect of the word. I led them to my office as they requested.

  “And wouldn’t you know it? Within a few hours I had a draft for payment and signed a new pledge at a much lower rate with Donal’s gentleman! Now how fortunate was that Peter?”

  Peter thought it mere coincidence, though one name rang clear in his mind from this account. “Did you say the name Cunningham?” he asked in curiosity.

  “Yes I did. His name was William Cunningham, from Castlebar to be exact. What a pompous, self-important man! Anyways, back to my tale. I saved my building and other interests by paying Cunningham out with the proceeds. Though now I felt a huge debt indeed to this gentleman Donal had brought to my rescue. True to his nature, he asked nothing in return except I honor his note.

  “To me I needed to feel worthy of his generosity, pledging to do whatever I could in return. That was my first exposure to this man’s other passion. Over the course of our lengthy ensuing relationship, his fervor for self-government in Ireland was gradually revealed to me. You know this gentleman as Aidan Malloy; Donal was an old friend of his. And that is how you can trust Shawn McGowan!

  “My persona in the village is a huge aid for this line of work. I would be the last person suspected of working in league with self-government activists! Fortunately my former prejudices were set straight by learning from Aidan Malloy. He not only came to my financial aid long ago, though changed my perspective on the true meaning of justice in this land.

  “Aidan showed me how bigotries were a curse to all of us. It truly is a cancer which flows down like sewage to stagnate even the best pools of human effort. Believe me Peter, my heart and soul is very much committed to gaining real rights for all my fellow citizens.”

  For Peter, this whole encounter in Tuam was overwhelming. Seeing Shawn McGowan before him as a supporting comrade took time for adjustment. Hearing he was a confident of Aidan Malloy added to Peter’s feeling of suspended disbelief.

  Nevertheless, this connection between Aidan and Donal Cleary was very telling. He did not bother to mention Cleary’s contribution to his own university education at Queen’s College in Galway. Donal Cleary appeared cut from the same cloth as his dear friend Aidan.

  “Shawn McGowan, after listening to your stories I have no doubt of your involvement with the movement. Now I have something to say which may leave you shocked. I too met this William Cunningham, though under the most unfortunate circumstances. The reason I am in your living quarters tonight is because his henchmen kidnapped me through devious betrayal!

  “I was brought to his lair, remaining for some time under Cunningham’s custody. He is closely acquainted with Major Thurston of the British Security Force. As you probably know, I had the unique fortune of rescue to continue on with my journey. So I fully agree with your assessment of his ill character.”

  “I am surprised to hear of his involvement, but not his wicked deeds. Before tonight you had no reason to trust me. I remember seeing you as a babe in your mother’s tender arms when I first laid wide eyes upon you. I could respect your presence as a child, but fought to hold back my own misguided beliefs. How blind I was to not realize the same unforgiving soil was home to all of us!

  “Our hopes, aspirations and toils were shared in a common place by that windswept coast of the Atlantic. Despite all those grey days of brooding winds, we would not settle anywhere else! In our Kilmarnie, our community, we were all meant to be each other’s’ keeper, wherever and however we came.”

  Peter could certainly attest to the perfect cover portrayed by Shawn McGowan. To hear his manner of speech was akin to the recovering alcoholic making reforming rallies against drink from a Sunday pulpit. He now looked upon Tuam as the evening of startling revelations.

  McGowan rose from his chair to put a few logs on the fire. “Enough banter for this evening; you must be dreadfully tired after these chain of events. Let me show you to your room, which is well appointed for a good night’s rest. Tomorrow I will give your final instructions. There will be no more safe houses from what I can gather. It shall be your last sprint before going abroad.”

  When Peter was finally alone with silent thoughts, he could hear his heart racing loudly. If Shawn’s words were correct, he was that close to completing his challenging journey. Starting from Dublin, the constant worry, fear, stress and containment had conspired to wear him thin. In more ways than one, he needed this torturous trial of will to end.

  Peter managed a full night’s rest in the quiet isolation of Greenstone Cottage. On waking the next morning a refreshed man, he sat for a delicious breakfast prepared by the experienced hands of his hometown innkeeper. An hour later he furnished Peter with his last instructions.

  “Here is your latest correspondence Peter. I met the messenger as arranged in Tuam proper at break of dawn. While there I went to St. Mary’s Cathedral and prayed for your safe deliverance. Greenstone Cottage was in my mother’s family for generations, which is how I came about it. St. Mary’s was her family’s place of worship. We can only hope my appeal is answered with your freedom.”

  Peter took the sealed envelope, opened it, and read carefully. Upon finishing he placed the letter into his trouser pocket. Rising from the table, Peter prepared for his travels ahead.

  “Thank you Shawn for retrieving this message. You are spot on about what happens next. I will either be heading overseas or soon hung in capital punishment. There will be no other result in this enterprise. With your permission, I would like to take some time to prepare a few things. My departure can wait a few hours yet.”

&nb
sp; “By all means Peter. If there is anything I can do to assist you just let me know.”

  “Appreciate your offer Shawn, though I need to be alone for now. My mind must be sharp for the times ahead.” With that he retired to the bedroom for peaceful solitude.

  Hours later Peter emerged from his room. According to instructions, he had to rendezvous with a lady named Fay at Salmon Weir Bridge on River Corrib in Galway. It was essential he met her at the appointed evening hour of ten o’clock. Fay would provide his new documentation for travel early the next morning, along with a passenger ticket. From Galway Harbor he would come aboard a chartered passenger ship bound for Halifax, Nova Scotia.

  Peter noted these arrangements as final and complete. Were he to miss tonight’s meeting with Fay, or the departure time tomorrow, there would be no alternatives. He would be left exposed to increased efforts from the Security Force, in probable alliance with all county constabularies. This was an opportunity which could not be missed under any possible circumstances.

  Peter knew Major Thurston would throw all caution to the wind. He needed him captured, regardless of prior secrecies. In doing so, they would frame their exercise as the apprehension of a wanted fugitive. Peter was the last direct witness to actual events at Wheatstone Fields. Major Thurston had to silence all aspects of their operation from that tragic day.

  Walking into the kitchen, Peter found Shawn packing some biscuits and fruit into a small sack. Looking up, he finished his chores and addressed Peter.

  “I was just putting together some decent nourishment. You will need sustenance for your upcoming journey. I take it you’re ready to head off?”

  “That’s correct Shawn. I want to give myself ample time for reaching the next destination. I do want to tell you my stay at Greenstone Cottage has been refreshing in so many ways. For that I thank you sincerely.”

  “I wish you continued success along the Irish Underground Railway,” a moved Shawn replied. “The nickname is our small tribute to all Colored across the ocean seeking freedom, just like we do here. It is my deepest hope fate will shine on the side of right, granting both their just reward!”

 

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