Then, facing back towards the crowd, he suddenly spotted a wonderful sight. Through the fog of past remembrances, a huge smile curled his lips with suppressed joy. Locked in his sights was someone who could change his lot in life forever.
“My word indeed, you’ve made a believer out of me,” he muttered under his breath. “This is surely a sign from above that we’re due for good tidings!”
Immediately Liam seized upon the opportunity. “Stay still Margaret, for our problems may be in the past! Tim, follow me quick and do as I say son.”
Liam remembered a notice which went up the previous afternoon while walking past the Sligo constabulary’s public board. On it was a large poster, offering a king’s ransom of one thousand pounds sterling for capturing or providing information leading to the apprehension of a fugitive named Peter Harvey. This reward was pledged by a Major Thurston of the British Security Force.
Liam was certain the Colored man waiting discreetly behind a building in the loading dock area was none other than Peter Harvey. Though the sketch was crude, his height and approximate weight seemed in line with the information provided. As well, Colored folk were not a common sight in these parts. Therefore, Liam felt strong odds indeed.
He watched his target like a hawk. It seemed the man he took for Harvey was waiting for the last passenger in line to board a steamship called Chieftain. Just as a boat hand rang out for last call, his quarry appeared, ready to board the steamer.
Racing quickly towards its sturdy old gangplank, Liam attempted to intercept the man he assumed was Harvey. If successful in his mission they would not be boarding the coffin ship. That reward would be enough to comfortably settle his small brood back in the bosom of the Emerald Isle. When he was within hearing distance, Liam shouted out at his intended target.
“Hold there, you boarding the ship! Stay still in your place. I demand you stop in the name of a criminal warrant on your head Peter Harvey. Now stop this instant!”
All the sudden commotion caught Peter’s attention. He could not believe it when the frenzied stranger called out his name. Peter had come so close to making good on his escape. Now two determined men ran down the pier straight at his line of ascent. Looking up at the deck of the ship, a crew man looked in his direction before quickly disappearing.
Connor Healy told him in Castlebar they never lost a person on the underground network. Now it appeared there was a first time for everything. At Tennant’s Creek he was rescued by Brendan O’Bannon and the Free Eire Homeland movement. Hours before it was a watchman’s grace which allowed him to come within yards of his final destination. Yet here at Galway Harbor his luck had run its course.
Though Peter Harvey was not raised a quitter, having lots of heart still burning within him. He would go down fighting if necessary in attempting to secure his freedom. After his two pursuers leapt over the gangplank railing, they marched menacingly towards him. Time had tolled for Peter’s last valiant battle on Irish soil.
Steeling himself to fend off expected blows, Peter moved forward to mount the gangplank. Marching nearer, he could smell the waft of days’ stench drifting from these disheveled hunters. Such odor masked his own scent of fear, which belied his bold exterior. Then, without warning, a commanding voice boomed down over the impending confrontation.
“You three, stand as you are and take not one step more!” They immediately craned collective necks upwards to spot Chieftain’s captain. Alongside him stood the ship hand Peter seen moments before.
Chieftain’s captain walked confidently down his gangplank towards the trio. “What is the matter here; my steamer is preparing to leave port this very minute! Are any of you paying passengers attempting to board my ship?”
Peter quickly pleaded his case. “Yes captain. I was preparing to come aboard when these two men came running towards me, blocking my path forward. Now if they let me pass this inconvenience can be remedied immediately.”
Glowering hotly at Peter, Liam spat out an angry response. “Captain, I am making a citizen’s arrest of a man wanted by the British Security Force! His name is Peter Harvey, and we aim to return him to proper authorities. All you have to do is let us apprehend him and we shall be on our way.”
The captain did not take well to Liam’s condescending tone. “I will be the judge of further action here! For my own satisfaction I will ask the man you are pursuing to furnish some identification. I want to establish just who he may be.”
Part of the escape plan for Peter included a new identity. Luckily he had these papers on his person. Though if these would be captors possessed a wanted poster for his arrest, he would be caught in a hard position. Considering the extreme rarity of Colored fugitives in Ireland, he would most certainly be detained for further investigation.
Peter moved forward, placing his documentation in the captain’s waiting hands. He duly scrutinized these papers before returning them to Peter. Then the captain faced towards his would be captors.
“Unless you can prove otherwise, this man’s documents are in good order. The name appearing on those papers is completely different from whom you seek. Now if you have anything which contradicts his information, bring it to me this instant!”
Peter held his breath while Liam reached into his pockets and began searching about. Peter’s forehead drew the faintest beads of nervous sweat as each second passed. After a few moments Liam removed empty hands from his raggedy overcoat.
“Captain, that is definitely Peter Harvey,” he pleaded. “There is a large bounty on his head. If you hold this ship’s departure for just seven hours, I will return not only with proof of his guilt, but an officer from the Force to arrest him. I will split the reward dead even between us. Please sir, do not let your Chieftain set sail away!”
The captain folded large muscular arms across his broad chest. He gave a stern look to Peter before resting a studied scowl upon Liam.
“Listen close and mark me well,” he began in addressing Liam. “You have held up my ship by blocking passage of a paying customer. I get paid to run commerce on schedule. Second, while this gentleman provided proof of identity, all you can muster is an empty pledge for self-enrichment.
“Now here is my deal to you. If you and your accomplice have not cleared this gangplank in the next minute, my crewmen will dump both of you into that harbor. Have we reached an understanding?”
Liam’s face became crestfallen as he realized the opportunity for quick riches was gone. Shamed into submission, he quietly took his son’s arm and walked back to his waiting wife.
Meanwhile, Peter felt the powerful rays of freedom glowing brightly as he mounted the gangplank to set sail. Three times he faced capture. Three times he was set free. Never before had Aidan’s escape network overcome such daunting challenges. Nevertheless, in the end their perfect record of ferrying people to safety remained intact.
*****
Roughly seven hours after the steamer had been crossing the Atlantic, a strikingly handsome man approached a nearby fishmonger standing astride his large moveable cart at the port of Galway. “Pardon me,” he signaled to the spry vendor. “But was the steamer Chieftain docked here today? I have an urgent message to deliver to the captain.”
The vendor sized up the strange gentleman with a suspicious stare. “No, don’t recall seeing the likes of that boat here today.”
With not a moment’s hesitation the gentleman produced a few bank notes from his tan colored coat pocket and slapped them hard on the cart. “Perhaps I did not say the name of the boat clearly enough. Are you sure the steamer Chieftain did not dock at Galway Harbor today?”
Immediately the fishmonger craned his weathered neck as if to spot any witnesses to the encounter. After deftly snatching the crisp notes in his stained right hand, he replied grudgingly.
“Oh yes, I recall more clearly now. If you said the steamer Chieftain, she was docked here, but left about s
even hours ago.”
The gentleman pressed further to obtain more information. “I need to get this letter to its captain. Do you know where she was bound?”
When the vendor returned a blank expression, the well attired stranger put more notes on his rickety wooden cart, which were promptly scooped up. “Nova Scotia if I recall. Now can I do you with some fresh catch of the day mister?”
With a stern look of disapproval the dapper stranger strode away to a waiting cab.
“Take me to the local constabulary straight away!” he ordered his driver. “There’s not a moment to waste.”
Immediately the cab broke away at a quick pace. On arrival ten minutes later, the well-dressed man paid out the driver and entered the constabulary office. Waiting inside was an expectant Major Thurston.
“Well now Fraser, what have you learned?”
“If that O’Carroll man’s story was true about having seen Harvey, he boarded the steamer Chieftain this morning, bound for Nova Scotia.”
“I have no reason to doubt a man that came all the way from here to Sligo to deliver such news! Especially considering he missed paid passage with what little savings he had to relay this information. I have no choice but to believe his words.”
“Damn it!” exclaimed Fraser. “If only the posters had arrived here last evening instead of tonight we would have nabbed Harvey at Galway Harbor.”
“True enough,” replied a reflecting Major Thurston. “Though remember, we have an idea of where to pick up his scent again. That will have to do for now.”
“What about this O’Carroll fellow who came to us? What shall we do with him?”
Thurston stroked his chin in contemplation. “It’s now public knowledge we are in pursuit of Harvey, so he poses no threat. I will give the poor bugger enough money to compensate for the loss on his tickets, plus a decent sum for expenses.
“The only blood to be shed from hereon in will be upon executing Peter Harvey, or whenever my handlers in London do me in for botching his capture. Let us move on then.”
*****
After Chieftain had been at sail for more than eight hours, Peter was summoned to the captain’s quarters. He had no idea what lay in store, so he was understandably nervous.
All along this harrowing journey, obstacles kept appearing to block imminent freedom. He now followed the same crewman he spotted from his earlier gangplank confrontation to the captain’s office. At his superior’s door the crewman knocked to gain entrance.
“Come straight in,” came the immediate reply. Both men entered and stood in front of the seated captain’s desk. He looked up from his papers as they approached.
“You were in a spot of trouble before Jackson came to fetch me,” he began while lighting an old pipe. “Jackson here may have saved your life!” After drawing a couple of long puffs, he flashed a quick grin at Peter before continuing.
“Now I have the chance to formally welcome Peter Harvey aboard my Chieftain! We are headed to British North America, Halifax Harbor, Nova Scotia.”
Peter stood dumbstruck. The captain knew he was Peter Harvey all along! So who were these men? On recovering from yet another twist of events, Peter finally began speaking.
“I cannot figure how you know my real identity, though I have deep gratitude for your timely assistance. And yes, especially for Jackson’s alertness to my developing peril. So captain, may I ask your names as well?”
“I am Captain Vincent, born in Portsmouth, raised by every ocean since age eleven. My trusted companion Jackson was born in Cornwall, and I took him under my wing a decade ago. Were it not for the great assistance of a man by the name of Aidan Malloy, I would have no life or career. For that I remain in his debt, though as usual he wants nothing in return.
“You see Peter, not every Englishman wishes to deny the Irish liberties we enjoy so freely. Hypocrisy is a poison that’s especially deadly when self-administered.” Captain Vincent extended a firm hand in welcome. Peter took it in turn before facing Jackson to give another hearty handshake.
“I thank you Captain Vincent and Jackson for saving my life. Mark me well, it shall never be forgotten.”
Captain Vincent looked towards Jackson. “Could you take a moment to check around the ship? Make sure all is well and report back to me in one hour.”
“Yes captain,” Jackson dutifully replied before leaving the room. Captain Vincent proceeded to open a small locked drawer near the bottom of his desk.
“Peter Harvey, now that you are safe, there’s just one thing Aidan has requested of you. In my hand is something so valuable it must never leave your possession. I know not its significance, though he said this item is priceless!
“Aidan specifically stated it must never leave your person under any circumstances. It is that precious. All I know is that it was no longer safe enough to be held at Goodhope House. So Aidan needed a trusted custodian to spirit it away. He chose you above all others.”
Captain Vincent handed Peter a very small plain wooden box with a latch on one side to hold it firm. There was nothing unusual about its appearance whatsoever.
When he open it, Peter could see an inside lined with velvet cushion. Resting on top of the padding was a uniquely shaped gold key. Its construction was flawless. Above the bow, which had been inscribed in strange lettering, was a finely crafted key ring holding an ornate neck chain.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Peter. “It’s a striking piece indeed.”
“Yes it is,” agreed Captain Vincent. “Though as in life, possessing such beauty comes at a cost.
“As custodian, you must not breathe a word to anyone that you have this piece. In case of your misfortune, the eldest direct male family member must know of its existence. Custody shall continue down through the generations in this fashion. If that male is the end of your line and you have not heard from Aidan or one acting on his family’s behalf, bury it in a remote place. And leave no clue to its location.
“In time Aidan may reveal the key’s significance, or maybe never. However, it is too dangerous for return to Ireland anytime soon. Surely there’s quite a story to match its fetching appearance! I must say; never have I seen him so worried about any particular item in all the years we’ve been acquainted.”
Peter listened carefully to every word spoken by Captain Vincent. “You have my oath to act exactly as Aidan instructed,” he replied solemnly.
“Well then, the matter is settled. Now, is there anything I can do to make your travel a little more comfortable? Would you like some food and maybe a drink or two?”
“Yes, it has been some time since having a good meal. Would you care to join me Captain Vincent?”
The captain grinned approvingly in response. “Yes, I’m sure between the two of us we could engage in some lively banter indeed.”
Soon the captain’s quarters was filled with past stories of glory and woe. And for the first time in a long while Peter felt safe, secure and free to be himself. Captain Vincent thoroughly enjoyed Peter’s sharp intellect and noble heart, while both men reveled in their mealtime discussion.
Upon conclusion, Peter retired to a waiting bed, trying to catch up on weeks of fitful naps wrapped within constant fears. To say a huge burden was relieved that afternoon would be a folly. Peter Harvey was now beyond the dastardly clutches of ill men’s deeds. He was a free man once again.
Peter would have no knowledge of the irony fate had played yet again in his relatively short existence. He began his known life on a desolate Irish beach, saved by Providence from Isabella’s ill-fated voyage many years before. Now he was returning again to the land where he was born yet never knew.
On arriving in Nova Scotia, Peter never forgot his final rescuers from the steamer Chieftain. After marrying his devoted wife Iris she bore two sons. Their names were Vincent and Jackson Lawrence.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A pledge made can lead to a debt unpaid
After returning from Galway to spend another week headquartered in Sligo, Major Thurston faced the inevitable. He had exhausted every avenue in his obsessive attempt to recapture Peter Harvey. Through the process he lost one officer as hostage and certainly any prospects of future promotion. In reality, he would be lucky to escape with his life.
Thurston failed in a covert operation which could not see the public light of day. From the bungled assassination attempt at Wheatstone Fields to their ambush at Tennant’s Creek, there was damning evidence he consistently fell short of the mark. Now he had been summoned back to Dublin by the true mastermind of this entire operation.
Soon he arrived at Broadstone Station with Sergeant Wilson and Officer Murray early in the afternoon. “Go home and get some rest,” he ordered. “Let’s hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”
At that point Sergeant Wilson remembered another matter. “Pardon me Major Thurston, but what’s to be done with the vagrant witness named Kieran? After all, he’s still holed up at headquarters.”
Major Thurston patted Wilson on the back. “That’s why I chose you for this mission in the first place! You have quite the sharp memory indeed. Well, here’s what you two are going to do for me.
“First, prepare a written statement about him witnessing Peter Harvey shooting an innocent man at Wheatstone Fields. Include enough detail to convict Harvey though cover our tracks. Get that character to sign the statement or put his mark on it. I want both of you signing as witnesses to that statement.
“Then, since we no longer require him as the only other witness to Wheatstone Fields, eliminate him. Afterwards, you can get some sleep.”
Both officers nodded in understanding and set about their latest task. Now Thurston mentally prepared for a most unpleasant meeting ahead.
Thurston arrived later that afternoon at a private townhouse with a fashionable address. He was ushered inside to a sitting room by a formal attendant. Fifteen minutes later, a distinguished looking gentleman finally entered to join him. As Major Thurston rose for greeting, this man completely ignored him while walking towards his liquor service. After pouring a neat drink, he sat down in an overstuffed leather chair.
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