The Northern Iron

  CHAPTER V

  When Neal arrived at the Manse he found that the sentries who had stoodon guard at the door were gone. The yeomen had disappeared from beforethe meeting-house. The broken door, the fragments of the wrecked pulpit,and the figure of the dead trooper swinging from the branch on which hehad been hanged were left as witnesses of the Government's methods ofkeeping the peace in Ireland.

  Inside the house Micah Ward paced restlessly up and down the floor ofhis study. Donald, his pipe in his mouth, sat on a chair tilted backtill its front legs were six inches off the floor, and watched hisbrother. His attitude was precarious, but he seemed comfortable. Micahpaused in his rapid walking as Neal entered the room.

  "What have you been doing, Neal?" he said. "Your face is cut, yourclothes are torn; you look strangely excited."

  "I have been fighting," said Neal. He did not think it necessary to addthat he had also been love-making, though it was the interview with Una,far more than the struggle with the yeoman, which was accountable forthe gleaming eyes and exalted expression which his father noticed.

  "I trust you were victorious," said his father, "that your foot has beendipped in the blood of your enemies, that you have broken their bondsasunder, and cast away their cords from you."

  "I was beaten," said Neal, smiling. It did not just then seem to matterin the least whether he got the better or the worse in any fight.

  "You take it easily," said Donald. "That's right. You're blooded now,my boy. You'll fight all the better in the future for tasting your ownblood to-night. I'm glad you are back with us. Your father has beengiving out the most terrific curses against Lord Dunseveric for havingbrought the yeomen down on us and taken away his little cannons. I tellhim he ought to be thankful they went into the meeting-house instead ofcoming here. They'd have made a fine haul if they'd walked in and takenthe papers he and I had before us when you came here. They'd have hadthe name of every United Irishman in the district, and could have pickedthem out and hanged them one by one just as they wanted them."

  "They've got as much information, pretty near, as they want," said Neal."They are going to arrest three men to-night."

  "God's curse on Eustace St. Clair, him whom men call the Lord ofDunseveric," said Micah Ward.

  "Spare your curse," said Neal. "It wasn't Lord Dunseveric who broughtthe yeomen on us, and what's more, only for Lord Dunseveric you'd bearrested yourself along with the others."

  "What's that you are saying, Neal?"

  "I'm saying that the yeomen brought orders from Belfast to arrest you,and me, too, and that Lord Dunseveric refused to execute them."

  "And so I owe my liberty to him! I must thank him for sparing me. I mustfawn on him as my benefactor, I suppose. But I will not. I refuse hismercy. I scorn it. I cast it from me. I shall go out and offer myself tothe yeomen. They are to take my friends, my people, and spare me. I willnot be spared. Am I the hireling who fleeth when the wolf cometh? I goto deliver myself into their hands."

  "You'll be a bigger fool than I take you for if you do," said Donald."Listen to me now. From what Neal has told us it's evident that you'rewrong about Lord Dunseveric. It wasn't he who brought the yeomen on us.There is someone else giving information, and it's someone who knowsa good deal. Come now, brother Micah, cudgel your brains; think, man,think, who is it?"

  Micah sat down at his writing-table and passed his hand over hisforehead.

  "I cannot think," he said. "I cannot, I will not believe that any of ourpeople are traitors."

  "These orders which Neal speaks of came from Belfast," said Donald. "Whohas lately left this place and gone to Belfast?"

  "I can tell you," said Neal. "James Finlay. And James Finlay had agrudge against me. The others whom he denounced were United Irishmen,perhaps, I was not. Why was I marked down, unless it was out of privaterevenge? And there is nobody, nobody in the world, I believe, who hascause to wish for vengeance on me but only James Finlay."

  "I cannot believe it of him," said Micah. "He came to me himself andasked to be sworn. He was a member of the committee."

  "If you ask me," said Donald, "I think the case looks pretty blackagainst James Finlay. I think, if things are to go on as they ought to,it will be better to cut the throat of James Finlay. I don't know himmyself. Perhaps you do, Neal."

  "Yes," said Neal, "I know him."

  "And he is in Belfast," said Donald. "Now, what was his reason for goingto Belfast?"

  "He went to obtain employment there," said Micah. "He took letters fromme to some of our leaders. He went as my agent, properly accredited. MyGod! If he is a traitor!"

  "I think, Neal," said Donald, slowly, "that you and I will take a littletrip to Belfast. I should like to see Belfast. They tell me it's arising town. I should also very much like to see our friend, JamesFinlay. I suppose we shall be able to get horses to-morrow. Oh, yes,I've money to pay for them. I didn't come over here with an empty purse.Anyway, I think Belfast would suit me better than this place. Yourpeople, Micah, don't seem very fond of fighting."

  "You are wrong, brother. They will lay down their lives right willinglywhen the hour comes."

  Donald shrugged his shoulders. "Their meeting-house has been sacked,their minister has been insulted, three of their members are to bearrested, and they haven't offered to strike a blow. If they had thecourage of doe rabbits they'd have chopped up those yeomen into littlebits and then scattered them for dung over the fields. I reckon thatunless the Belfast people are better than these men of yours I'd bebetter back in the States. We knew how to fight for our liberty there."

  "You don't understand, Donald. Believe me, you do not understand. Wemust wait for orders before we strike."

  "Oh, orders. Waiting for orders. I know the meaning of that. It meanswaiting till the English have picked off your leaders one by one. Iknow, I know."

  Donald knocked the ashes out of his pipe, filled it, and lit it again,and puffed slowly. Micah sat at the table, his head resting in hishands. Neal sat down and waited. There was silence in the room for along time. Donald's pipe was smoked out and lit again before he spoke.Then he said--

  "I'm sorry, brother, that I spoke as I did. I don't doubt but that yourmen are brave enough. They would have fought if they had known what wasgoing on."

  "No, no," said Micah. "You were right. I ought to have fought if therewere no one else. I ought to have died. I would to God that I had diedbefore our meeting-house was pillaged, before my people, the men whotrusted me, were taken captive. I was a coward. I am a coward."

  "Then I am a coward, too," said Donald, "and no man ever called me thatbefore. But I'm not, and you're not. We were two unarmed men againstfifty. I'm fond enough of fighting, and I take on a job with long oddsagainst me, but not such long odds as that. Rouse yourself, brother.Neal and I are going to Belfast. We shall want letters from you. We mustbe accredited like Mr. James Finlay, whom we hope to meet. Stir yourselfnow and write for us."

  "I will, I will. Neal, there is no ink here. I remember that I used allmy ink yesterday. Neal, fetch me ink from the shelf beside the window."

  In a few minutes Micah's pen was travelling slowly over the paper. Nealcould hear its spluttering and scratching. Suddenly, there was a noiseof loud knocking at the door of the house. Donald started and laid downhis pipe. Neal rose to his feet, and stood waiting for some order fromhis father. Micah stopped writing, and turned in his chair. All trace ofnervousness and agitation had vanished from his face. His expression wasgentle and joyous. He smiled.

  "They have come to take me also," he said. "I am right glad. I shall notbe indebted to the oppressor for my liberty. I shall be where a shepherdought to be--with the sheep whom the wolf attacks."

  Again came the noise of knocking, heavy, authoritative, threatening.

  "Be quick, my son, and open the door. Bid those who enter welcome."

  Neal went to the door, and opened it. Lord Dunseveric stood outside, thereins of his horse's bridle thrown over his arm, his riding whip in hishand.

&
nbsp; "I suppose your father is within, Neal. I want to speak to him. Will youask him if I may enter?"

  "He bid me say that you were welcome," said Neal.

  Lord Dunseveric stared at him in surprise. "How did he know who was atthe door? But it does not matter. Show me where to tie my horse, Neal,and I will enter."

  Neal led the way into the room where his father and his uncle sat.Lord Dunseveric bowed to Micah Ward, and then, with a glance at Donald,said--

  "The matter on which I wish to speak to you, sir, is somewhat private.Is it your wish that this gentleman be present?"

  "It is my brother, Donald Ward," said Micah. "He knows my mind. I haveno secrets from him."

  Lord Dunseveric bowed again, and said, with a slight smile--

  "It is possible that Mr. Donald Ward may find some of your secretsrather embarrassing to keep."

  "I can take care of myself, master," said Donald, "or, maybe, I oughtto say, my lord. But your lordships and dukeships, and countships andkingships stick somewhat in my throat. I come from America, where wehold one man the equal of another."

  "You are a young nation," said Lord Dunseveric. "In time you willperhaps learn courtesy. But I did not come here to-night to teachmanners to vagrant Yankees. I came to tell Mr. Ward that he has beendenounced to the Government as a seditious person, and that I receivedorders to-night to arrest him."

  "And why did you not execute them?" said Micah Ward. "Did I ask you tospare me? Have you come here to be thanked for your mercy? I wish to Godyou had arrested me."

  "I assure you," said Lord Dunseveric, "that I expect no thanks, nor doI claim any credit for being merciful. You owe your escape solely to thefact that I happen to be a gentleman. It did not consist with my honourto arrest a man who was my personal enemy."

  "Then," said Micah Ward, "what have you come here for now?"

  "I have come, Mr. Ward, to warn you, if you will accept my warning, thatyou are in great danger, that the ramifications of your conspiracyare known to the Government, that your society is honeycombed withtreachery, that your roll of membership contains the names of manyspies."

  "Is that all?" said Micah.

  "No, sir, that is not all. I have a regard for your son. He has been thecompanion of my children. He has grown up at my feet. He has eaten at mytable. I like him and I respect him. I beg of you to consider whatthe consequences will be for him if you drag him into this insaneconspiracy. His name was along with yours on the list of seditiouspersons placed in my hands to-night. He has an hour or two ago incurredthe anger--the dangerous anger--of a body of yeomen and their commander.I beg that you will consider his safety, and not take him with you onthe way on which you are going."

  "Neal," said Micah Ward, "is no more than a boy. He knows nothing aboutpolitics. What has my action to do with Neal?"

  "His name," said Lord Dunseveric, "stood next to yours on the list ofsuspected persons which was put into my hands to-night."

  "So be it," said Micah, solemnly! "if my son is to suffer, if he is todie, he can die no better than fighting for liberty against oppression."

  "And I'm thinking," said Donald, "that you are going a bit too fast withyour talk about dying. I've fought just such a fight as my brother isthinking of. I'm through with it now, and I'm not dead. By God, we sawto it that it was the other men who died. We won, sir. Mark my words, wewon. It was the people that carried the day in America. They carriedthe day in France. What's to hinder us from carrying the day in Ireland,too?"

  Lord Dunseveric looked at Donald during this speech and kept his eyesfixed upon him for some minutes afterwards. He was considering whetherit was worth while replying to this boastful American Irishman. At lasthe turned again to Micah Ward.

  "I have still one more appeal to make to you, Mr. Ward. You carefor Ireland. Is it not so? I believe you do. Believe, me, I care forIreland, too."

  "Yes," said Micah, "you care for Ireland, but what do you mean byIreland? You mean a bloodthirsty, supercilious, unprincipled ascendancy,for whom the public exists only as a prey to be destroyed, who keepthemselves close and mark men's steps that they may lay in wait forthem; who forge chains for their country, who distrust and belie thepeople, who scoff at the complaints of the poor and needy, and whoimpudently call themselves Ireland. You have made the sick and the lameto go out of their way. You have eaten the good pastures and troddendown the residue with your feet. You care for Ireland, and you mean byIreland the powers and privileges of a class. I care for Ireland, butI mean Ireland, not for certain noblemen and gentlemen, but Ireland forthe Irish people, for the poor as well as the rich, for the Protestant,Dissenter, and Roman Catholic alike."

  "I have never denied, nor do I wish to deny, the need of reform," saidLord Dunseveric, "but I see before all the necessity of loyalty to theconstitution."

  "Ay, to the constitution which gives the whole power of the country toa few proud aristocrats, which excludes three-fourths of the peoplefrom its benefits, which allows eight hundred thousand Northerns to beinsulted and trampled on because they speak of emancipation, which usesforced oaths, overflowing Bastilles and foreign troops for extorting theloyalty of the Irish people."

  "I will not argue these things with you now," said Lord Dunseveric, "mytime is short. I would rather pray you to consider what the end ofyour conspiracy must be. If you succeed, and I do not believe you cansucceed, you will deluge the country in blood. If your best hopes arerealised, and you receive the help you hope for from abroad, youwill make Ireland the cockpit of a European war. Our commerce andmanufactures, reviving under the fostering care of our own IrishParliament, will be destroyed. Our fields, which none will dare to till,will be fouled with the dead bodies of our sons and daughters. But whyshould I complete the picture? If you fail--and you must fail--youwill fling the country into the arms of England. Our gentry will beterrified, our commons will be cowed. Designing Englishmen will make aneasy prey of us. They will take from us even the hard-earned measure ofindependence we already possess. We shall become, and we shall remain,a contemptible province of their Empire instead of a sovereign andindependent nation. The English are wise enough to see this, though youcannot see it. Man, _they want you to rebel_."

  "Is that all you have to say?" said Micah.

  "That is all."

  "Then I bid you farewell, Eustace St. Clair, Lord of Dunseveric. Youhave spoken well and pleaded speciously for yourself and your class. Imight listen to you if I had not seen your armed ruffians break intoour meeting-houses; if I had not in memory stories of burnt homesteads,outraged women, tortured men; you might persuade me if I did not knowthat to-night you have taken my friends, that you will drag them beforeunjust judges, and condemn them on the evidence of perjured informers,as you condemned William Orr. Human endurance can bear no more. Patienceis a virtue of the Gospel, but it becomes cowardice in the face ofcertain wrongs. Go, I have done with you. Go, torture, burn, shedinnocent blood, and then, like the adulterous woman, eat and wipe yourmouth, and say 'I have done no wickedness.'"

  "I came into your house on a mission of friendliness and mercy," saidLord Dunseveric. "I have been met with insults and lies, lies known tobe lies to you who speak them. I go, and I pray that we shall meet nomore until the day when, in the light of God's judgment, you will beable to see what is in my heart and understand what is in your own."

  "Amen," said Micah Ward, "I bide the test."

  Lord Dunseveric bowed and walked to the door of the room. Then hepaused, turned, and held out his hand to Neal.

  "You will stay with your father, Neal," he said. "I do not deny that youare right, but I will not part from you in unfriendliness. God keep you,boy, and remember, for old time's sake, for the sake of the days whenyou stood by my knee with my own children, you have always--whateverhappens--always a friend in me."

  Neal's eyes filled with tears. He could not speak. He carried LordDunseveric's hand to his lips, and then let it go reluctantly. He heardthe door shut, the trampling of the horse's hoofs on the gravel outside.Then, w
ith a sudden sob, which he could not repress, went across theroom and sat down beside his father.

  Donald alone remained cheerful and unimpressed.

  "I know that kind of man," he said. "A fine kind it is. We had some ofthe same sort in America. They crossed the border afterwards to Canada.I suppose you mean to ship your aristocracy to England, Micah? From allI hear they like lords over there. But now to work. We can't afford tosit still while Master James Finlay is loose about the country with yourletters in his pocket. We must get on his trail, Neal, you and I. Wemust hinder him from doing more mischief. The first thing we want ishorses. Micah, where are we to get horses--two strong nags, fit for theroad?"

  Micah Ward sat silent and absorbed. His eyes were fixed on the wallin front of him. His lips moved, as if he were speaking, but no soundpassed them. His hands on the table in front of him twitched. He was aprey to some violent emotion. Donald called him again, and again failedto arouse his attention. Then he turned to Neal.

  "There's no use in trying to rouse your father, Neal. He will not hearus. Do you know anyone who will sell or hire us horses?"

  "Rab MacClure has horses," said Neal. "He has two, I know. He lives notfar from this, about a mile along the road towards Ballintoy."

  "Come, then," said Donald, "I suppose the family will be all abedby this time. We must rouse them. There's Scripture warrant for it.'Friend, lend me three loaves.' We must imitate the man in the Gospel.If he won't give us the horses for the asking we must weary him withimportunity."

  It was ten o'clock when Donald and his nephew set out. The clouds wereblown away, and the sky clear. The moon rode high, and by its light theycaught glimpses from the road of the white foam of the sea breaking onthe dark strand below them. The roar of the waves came loud to them asthey walked. A quarter of an hour's quick walking brought them to theirdestination.

  "There's the house," said Neal.

  "They are not in bed," said Donald, "I can see lights in the windows."

  Neal led the way across a stile and over a field. Lights moved fromone window to another in the house. A sound of wailing rose! and fell,mingling with the monotonous roar of the waves. The door stood wideopen. Within, a woman rocked herself to and fro on a low stool. Threechildren clung to her petticoats and cried piteously. A farm labourerstood, stupidly motionless, beside the dresser. A maid servant, witha light in her hand, flitted restlessly in and out of the kitchen. Herhair hung loose about her shoulders. She was but half dressed, like onearoused suddenly from bed. A rush-light burned in an iron stand onthe floor, shedding a feeble light. Donald and Neal stood at the doorastonished.

  "Our friends the yeomen have been here," said Donald. "I guess theyhave taken the man of the house away with them. We've another account tosettle with James Finlay when we get him."

  "Mistress MacClure," said Neal, "I've come to know if you will hire orsell us two horses. We must be travelling to-morrow morn."

  "Horses," cried the woman. "Who speaks o' horses? I wouldna care if yewere to rive horse and beast and a' from me now. My man's gone. Oh, myweans, my weans, who'll care for you now when they've kilt your da? Oh,the bonny man, and the kind!"

  "Is it you, Master Neal?" said the farm servant. "Will you no fetch theminister till her?"

  "I will, I will," said Neal, conscience-stricken at having mentioned hisown need in a home so sorely stricken with grief. He ran from the houseback to the manse.

  Donald took the labourer outside the door and spoke to him. He explainedthat he was the minister's brother. He said that he had pressing need ofthe horses. He offered money. The man shook his head.

  "They are no mine, and the mistress is in no way to bargain with you thenight."

  "I want the horses," said Donald, "to ride after the villain whobetrayed your master."

  The man's face brightened suddenly.

  "Aye, and is that so? Why couldn't ye have tell't me that afore? Keepyour money in your pouch. You'll have the horses in the morn. I'll takeit on myself to give them to you. I'd like fine to be going along. Butthere's the mistress and the weans. I darena leave them, and I willna.There's na yin only me and the God that's above us all for her to lookto now."

  Micah Ward, followed by his son, hastened to the MacClure's house. Hestood for a moment on the threshold, lifted his hat solemnly from hishead, and invoked a blessing on the building and all in it. Then hewent to the woman, took one of her hands in his, and spoke to her withwonderful tenderness.

  "Bessie, my poor bairn. Hearken to me, Bessie. Quit crying now, quitcrying. Do you mind, Bessie, the day I was in with you and Rab away atBallymoney? Do you mind how you said to me that every day you thankedGod for the good husband he had given you? Do you mind that? Ah, woman,you mind it well. And you know rightly what the blessed book says toyou--' The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the nameof the Lord.' Are you to receive good at the Lord's hand, my bairn, andnot evil, too?"

  He laid his hand upon her head and prayed aloud. The terrified maidstood still, her light in her hand, her hair in tangled strings, halfcovering her face. The labourer, Donald, and Neal stood together nearthe door. The children buried their heads in their mother's lap. MicahWard poured out his very soul in supplication. Very literally it mightbe said that he wrestled with his God in prayer. It was in some suchterms that he himself would have described the spiritual effort whichhe made. More than once, after a pause in his outpouring he repeated,in tones which were almost fierce in their determination, the words ofJacob to the angel--"I will not let you go until you bless me." Fora long time he continued to pray, interrupted by no sound except anoccasional bitter cry from Bessie MacClune. One after another the feeblelights flickered, guttered and went out. The room was in darkness.Through the open door came the long roaring of the sea. Within, MicahWard's voice rose to passionate cries or sank to a tender whisper.Bessie MacClure's grief found utterance now only in half-choked sobs. Atlast even these ceased. Her hands ceased wandering over the curly headsof the children, asleep now with her lap for their pillow. She feltupwards along Micah Ward's coat. Her fingers crept along his sleeve,found his hand, pulled it down to her, and laid her cheek against it. Heceased to pray. The victory was won. He had, by sheer violence, draggedpeace for a stricken soul from the closely-guarded treasury of the Lordof Sabaoth.