Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

  CHAPTER XXIV. THE MISSION TO THE NORTH

  I have never yet been able to discover whether General Humbert reallydid feel the confidence that he assumed at this period, or that hemerely affected it, the better to sustain the spirits of those aroundhim. If our success at Castlebar was undeniable, our loss was alsogreat, and far more than proportionate to all the advantages we hadacquired. Six officers and two hundred and forty men were eitherkilled or badly wounded, and as our small force had really acquired noreinforcement worth the name, it was evident that another such costlyvictory would be our ruin.

  Not one gentleman of rank or influence had yet joined us; few of thepriesthood; and, even among the farmers and peasantry, it was easy tosee that our recruits comprised those whose accession could never haveconferred honour or profit on any cause.

  Our situation was anything but promising. The rumours that reached us(and we had no other or more accurate information than rumours)told that an army of thirty thousand men, under the command of LordCornwallis, was in march against us; that all the insurrectionarymovements of the south were completely repressed; that the spirit ofthe Irish was crushed, and their confidence broken, either by defeat orinternal treachery. In a word, that the expedition had already failed,and the sooner we had the means of leaving the land of our disasters thebetter.

  Such were the universal feelings of all my comrades; but Humbert, whohad often told us that we were only here to prepare the way for anotherand more formidable mission, now pretended to think that we wereprogressing most favourably towards a perfect success. Perhaps he firmlybelieved all this, or perhaps he thought that the pretence would givemore dignity to the finale of an exploit which he already saw wasnearly played out. I know not which is the true explanation, and am halfdisposed to think that he was actuated as much by one impulse as theother.

  'The Army of the North' was the talisman, which we now heard of for thefirst time, to repair all our disasters, and ensure complete victory.'The Army of the North,' whose strength varied from twenty totwenty-five, and sometimes reached even thirty thousand men, and wascommanded by a distinguished Irish general, was now the centre to whichall our hopes turned. Whether it had already landed, and where, of whatit consisted, and how officered, not one of us knew anything; but bydint of daily repetition and discussion we had come to believe in itsexistence as certainly as though we had seen it under arms.

  The credulous lent their convictions without any trouble to themselveswhatever; the more sceptical studied the map, and fancied twentydifferent places in which they might have disembarked; and thus the Armyof the North grew to be a substance and reality, as undoubted as thescenes before our eyes.

  Never was such a ready solution of all difficulties discovered as thissame Army of the North. Were we to be beaten by Cornwallis, it was onlya momentary check, for the Army of the North would come up within afew days and turn the whole tide of war. If our Irish allies grewinsubordinate or disorderly, a little patience and the Army of the Northwould settle all that. Every movement projected was fancied to be inconcert with this redoubted corps, and at last every trooper that rodein from Killala or Ballina was questioned as to whether his despatchesdid not come from the Army of the North.

  Frenchmen will believe anything you like for twenty-four hours. Theycan be flattered into a credulity of two days, and, by dint of greatartifice and much persuasion, will occasionally reach a third; butthere, faith has its limit; and if nothing palpable, tangible, and real,intervene, scepticism ensues; and what with native sarcasm, ridicule,and irony, they will demolish the card edifice of credit far morerapidly than ever they raised it. For two whole days the Army of theNorth occupied every man amongst us. We toasted it over our wine; wediscussed it at our quarters; we debated upon its whereabouts, itsstrength, and its probable destination; but on the third morning aterrible shock was given to our feelings by a volatile young lieutenantof hussars exclaiming--'_Ma foi!_ I wish I could see this same Army ofthe North!'

  Now, although nothing was more reasonable than this wish, nor was thereany one of us who had not felt a similar desire, this sudden expressionof it struck us all most forcibly, and a shrinking sense of doubt spreadover every face, and men looked at each other as though to say--'Is thefellow capable of supposing that such an army does not exist?' It was avery dreadful moment--a terrible interval of struggle between the broaddaylight of belief and the black darkness of incredulity; and we turnedglances of actual dislike at the man who had so unwarrantably shaken oursettled convictions.

  'I only said I should like to see them under arms,' stammered he, in theconfusion of one who saw himself exposed to public obloquy.

  This half-apology came too late---the mischief was done! and we shunnedeach other like men who were afraid to read the accusation of even ashrewd glance. As for myself, I can compare my feelings only to those ofthe worthy alderman, who broke out into a paroxysm of grief on hearingthat _Robinson Crusoe_ was a fiction. I believe, on that suddenrevulsion of feeling, I could have discredited any and everything. Ifthere was no Army of the North, was I quite sure that there was anyexpedition at all? Were the generals mere freebooters, the chiefs of amarauding venture? Were the patriots anything but a disorderly rabbleeager for robbery and bloodshed? Was Irish Independence a mere phantom?Such were among the shocking terrors that came across my mind as Isat in my quarters, far too dispirited and depressed to mix among mycomrades.

  It had been a day of fatiguing duty, and I was not sorry, as nightfell, that I might betake myself to bed, to forget, if it might be, thetorturing doubts that troubled me. Suddenly I heard a heavy foot uponthe stair, and an orderly entered with a command for me to repair to theheadquarters of the general at once. Never did the call of duty summonme less willing, never found me so totally disinclined to obey. I wasweary and fatigued; but worse, than this, I was out of temper withmyself, the service, and the whole world. Had I heard that the Royalforces were approaching, I was exactly in the humour to have dashedinto the thick of them, and sold my life as dearly as I could, out ofdesperation.

  Discipline is a powerful antagonist to a man's caprices, for with allmy irritability and discontent I arose, and resuming my uniform, set outfor General Humbert's quarters. I followed 'the orderly,' as he led theway through many a dark street and crooked alley till we reached thesquare. There, too, all was in darkness, save at the mainguard, where,as usual, the five windows of the first storey were a blaze of light,and the sounds of mirth and revelry, the nightly orgies of our officers,were ringing out in the stillness of the quiet hour. The wild chorusof a soldier-song, with its rataplan accompaniment of knuckles on thetable, echoed through the square, and smote upon my ear with anythingbut a congenial sense of pleasure.

  In my heart I thought them a senseless, soulless crew, that could givethemselves to dissipation and excess on the very eve, as it were, of ourdefeat, and with hasty steps I turned away into the side-street, wherea large lamp, the only light to be seen, proclaimed General Humbert'squarters.

  A bustle and stir, very unusual at this late hour, pervaded the passagesand stairs, and it was some time before I could find one of the staff toannounce my arrival, which at last was done somewhat unceremoniously,as an officer hurried me through a large chamber crowded with the staffinto an inner room, where, on a small field-bed, lay General Humbert,without coat or boots, a much-worn scarlet cloak thrown half over him,and a black handkerchief tied round his head. I had scarcely seen himsince our landing, and I could with difficulty recognise the burly,high-complexioned soldier of a few days back, in the worn and haggardfeatures of the sick man before me. An attack of ague, which he hadoriginally contracted in Holland, had relapsed upon him, and he was nowsuffering all the lassitude and sickness of that most depressing of allmaladies.

  Maps, books, plans, and sketches of various kinds scattered the bed,the table, and even the floor around him; but his attitude as I enteredbetrayed the exhaustion of one who could labour no longer, and whoseworn-out faculties demanded rest. He lay flat on
his back, his armsstraight down beside him, and with half-closed eyes, seemed as thoughfalling off to sleep.

  His first aide-de-camp, Merochamp, was standing with his back to a smallturf fire, and made a sign to us to be still, and make no noise as wecame in.

  'He 's sleeping,' said he; 'it 's the first time he has closed his eyesfor ten days.'

  We stood for a moment uncertain, and were about to retrace our steps,when Humbert said, in a low, weak voice--

  'No! I'm not asleep, come in.'

  The officer who presented me now retired, and I advanced towards thebedside.

  'This is Tiernay, general,' said Merochamp, stooping down and speakinglow; 'you wished to see him.'

  'Yes, I wanted him. Ha! Tiernay, you see me a good deal altered since weparted last; however, I shall be all right in a day or two, it's a mereattack of ague, and will leave when the good weather comes. I wished toask you about your family, Tiernay; was not your father Irish?'

  'No, sir; we were Irish two or three generations back, but since that wehave belonged either to Austria or to France.'

  'Then where were you born?'

  'In Paris, sir, I believe, but certainly in France.'

  'Then I said so, Merochamp; I knew that the boy was French.'

  'Still I don't think the precaution worthless,' replied Merochamp;'Teeling and the others advise it.'

  'I know they do,' said Humbert peevishly, 'and for themselves it may beneedful; but this lad's case will be injured, not bettered by it. He isnot an Irishman; he never was at any time a British subject. Have youany certificate of birth or baptism, Tiernay?'

  'None, sir; but I have my 'livret' for the school of Saumur, which setsforth my being a Frenchman by birth.'

  'Quite sufficient, boy, let me have it.'

  It was a document which I always carried about with me since I landed,to enable me any moment, if made prisoner, to prove myself an alien, andthus escape the inculpation of fighting against the flag of my country.Perhaps there was something of reluctance in my manner as I relinquishedit, for the general said, 'I'll take good care of it, Tiernay; you shallnot fare the worse because it is in my keeping. I may as well tell youthat some of our Irish officers have received threatening letters. Itis needless to say they are without name, stating that if matters gounfortunately with us in this campaign they will meet the fate of mentaken in open treason; and that their condition of officers in ourservice will avail them nothing. I do not believe this. I cannot believethat they will be treated in any respect differently from the restof us. However, it is only just that I should tell you that your namefigures amongst those so denounced; for this reason I have sent for younow. You, at least, have nothing to apprehend on this score. You are asmuch a Frenchman as myself. I know Merochamp thinks differently from me,and that your Irish descent and name will be quite enough to involve youin the fate of others.'

  A gesture, half of assent but half of impatience, from the aide-de-camp,here arrested the speaker.

  'Why not tell him frankly how he stands?' said Humbert eagerly; 'I seeno advantage in any concealment.'

  Then addressing me, he went on. 'I purpose, Tiernay, to give you thesame option I gave the others, but which they have declined to accept.It is this: we are daily expecting to hear of the arrival of a force inthe north under the command of Generals Tandy and Rey.'

  'The Army of the North?' asked I, in some anxiety. 'Precisely; the Armyof the North. Now I desire to open a communication with them, and at thesame time to do so through the means of such officers as, in the eventof any disaster here, may have the escape to France open to them; whichthis army will have, and which, I need not say, we have no longer.Our Irish friends have declined this mission as being more likely tocompromise them if taken; and also as diminishing and not increasingtheir chance of escape. In my belief that you were placed similarlyI have sent for you here this evening, and at the same time desire toimpress upon you that your acceptance or refusal is purely a matter atyour own volition.'

  'Am I to regard the matter simply as one of duty, sir? or as anopportunity of consulting my personal safety?'

  'What shall I say to this, Merochamp?' asked Humbert bluntly.

  'That you are running to the full as many risks of being banged forgoing as by staying; such is my opinion,' said the aide-de-camp. 'Hereas a rebel, there as a spy.'

  'I confess, then,' said I, smiling at the cool brevity of the speech,'the choice is somewhat embarrassing! May I ask what you advise me todo, general?'

  'I should say go, Tiernay.'

  'Go, by all means, lad,' broke in the aide-de-camp, who throughoutassumed a tone of dictation and familiarity most remarkable. 'If a standis to be made in this miserable country it will be with Rey's force;here the game will not last much longer. There lies the only man capableof conducting such an expedition, and his health cannot stand up againstits trials!'

  'Not so, Merochamp; I 'll be on horseback to-morrow or the day after atfurthest; and if I never were to take the field again, there are others,yourself amongst the number, well able to supply my place: but as toTiernay--what says he?'

  'Make it duty, sir, and I shall go, or remain here with an easyconscience,' said I.

  'Then duty be it, boy,' said he; 'and Merochamp will tell youeverything, for all this discussion has wearied me much, and I cannotendure more talking.'

  'Sit down here,' said the aide-de-camp, pointing to a seat at his side,'and five minutes will suffice.'

  He opened a large map of Ireland before us on the table, and running hisfinger along the coast-line of the western side, stopped abruptly at thebay of Lough Swilly.

  'There,' said he, 'that is the spot. There, too, should have been ourown landing! The whole population of the north will be with them--notsuch allies as these fellows, but men accustomed to the use of arms,able and willing to take the field. They say that five thousand mencould hold the passes of those mountains against thirty.'

  'Who says this?' said I, for I own it that I had grown marvellouslysceptical as to testimony.

  'Napper Tandy, who is a general of division, and one of the leaders ofthis force'; and he went on: 'The utmost we can do will be to hold thesetowns to the westward till they join us. We may stretch away thusfar,' and he moved his finger towards the direction of Leitrim, but nofarther. 'You will have to communicate with them; to explain what wehave done, where we are, and how we are. Conceal nothing--let themhear fairly that this patriot force is worth nothing, and that even togarrison the towns we take they are useless. Tell them, too, the sadmistake we made by attempting to organise what never can be disciplined,and let them not arm a population, as we have done, to commit rapine andplunder.'

  Two letters were already written--one addressed to Rey, the other toNapper Tandy. These I was ordered to destroy if I should happen tobecome a prisoner; and with the map of Ireland, pen-marked in variousdirections, by which I might trace my route, and a few lines to ColonelCharost, whom I was to see on passing at Killala, I was dismissed.'When I approached the bedside to take leave of the general he was soundasleep. The excitement of talking having passed away, he was paleas death, and his lips totally colourless. Poor fellow, he wasexhausted-looking and weary, and I could not help thinking, as I lookedon him, that he was no bad emblem of the cause he had embarked in!

  I was to take my troop-horse as far as Killala, after which I was toproceed either on foot, or by such modes of conveyance as I could find,keeping as nigh the coast as possible, and acquainting myself, so far asI might do, with the temper and disposition of the people as I went. Itwas a great aid to my sinking courage to know that there really was anArmy of the North, and to feel myself accredited to hold intercoursewith the generals commanding it.

  Such was my exultation at this happy discovery, that I was dying toburst in amongst my comrades with the tidings, and proclaim, at the sametime, my own high mission. Merochamp had strictly enjoined my speedydeparture without the slightest intimation to any, whither I was going,or with what object.

>   A very small cloak-bag held all my effects, and with this slung at mysaddle I rode out of the town just as the church clock was strikingtwelve. It was a calm, starlight night, and once a short distance fromthe town, as noiseless and still as possible; a gossoon, one ofthe numerous scouts we employed in conveying letters or bringingintelligence, trotted along on foot beside me to show the way, for therewas a rumour that some of the Royalist cavalry still loitered aboutthe passes to capture our despatch bearers, or make prisoners of anystragglers from the army.

  These gossoons, picked up by chance, and selected for no otherqualification than because they were keen-eyed and swift of foot, werethe most faithful and most worthy creatures we met with. In no instancewere they ever known to desert to the enemy, and, stranger still, theywere never seen to mix in the debauchery and excesses so common to allthe volunteers of the rebel camp. Their intelligence was considerable,and to such a pitch had emulation stimulated them in the service, thatthere was no danger they would not incur in their peculiar duties.

  My companion on the present occasion was a little fellow of aboutthirteen years of age, and small and slight even for that; we knew himas 'Peter,' but whether he had any other name, or what, I was ignorant.He was wounded by a sabre-cut across the hand, which nearly severed thefingers from it, at the bridge of Castlebar, but, with a strip of linenbound round it, now he trotted along as happy and careless as if nothingailed him.

  I questioned him as we went, and learned that his father had been a herdin the service of a certain Sir Roger Palmer, and his mother a dairymaidin the same house, but as the patriots had sacked and burned the'Castle,' of course they were now upon the world. He was a good dealshocked at my asking what part his father took on the occasion of theattack, but for a very different reason than that which I suspected.

  'For the cause, of course!' replied he, almost indignantly; 'whywouldn't he stand up for ould Ireland!'

  'And your mother--what did she do?'

  He hung down his head, and made no answer till I repeated the question.

  'Faix,' said he slowly and sadly, 'she went and towld the young ladieswhat was goin' to be done, and if it hadn't been that the "boys" caughtTim Haynes, the groom, going off to Foxford with a letter, we'd have hadthe dragoons down upon us in no time! They hanged Tim, but they let theyoung ladies away, and my mother with them, and off they all went toDublin.'

  'And where's your father now?' I asked.

  'He was drowned in the bay of Killala four days ago. He went with aparty of others to take oatmeal from a sloop that was wrecked in thebay, and an English cruiser came in at the time and fired on them; atthe second discharge the wreck and all upon it went down!'

  He told all these things without any touch of sorrow in voice or manner.They seemed to be the ordinary chances of war, and so he took them. Hehad three brothers and a sister; of the former, two were missing, thethird was a scout; and the girl--she was but nine years old--was waitingon a canteen, and mighty handy, he said, for she knew a little Frenchalready, and understood the soldiers when they asked for a _goutte_, orwanted _du feu_ for their pipes.

  Such, then, was the credit side of the account with Fortune, and,strange enough, the boy seemed satisfied with it; and although a fewdays had made him an orphan and houseless, he appeared to feel that thegreat things in store for his country were an ample recompense forall. Was this, then, patriotism? Was it possible that one, untaught andunlettered as he was, could think national freedom cheap at such a cost?If I thought so for a moment, a very little further inquiry undeceivedme. Religious rancour, party feuds, the hate of the Saxon--a blind,ill-directed, unthinking hate--were the motives which actuated him. Aterrible retribution for something upon somebody, an awful wiping outof old scores, a reversal of the lot of rich and poor, were the mainincentives to his actions, and he was satisfied to stand by at thedrawing of this great lottery, even without holding a ticket in it!

  It was almost the first moment of calm reflective thought I had enjoyed,as I rode along thus in the quiet stillness of the night, and I own thatmy heart began to misgive me as to the great benefits of our expedition.I will not conceal the fact, that I had been disappointed in everyexpectation I had formed of Ireland.

  The bleak and barren hills of Mayo, the dreary tracts of mountain andmorass, were about as unworthy representatives of the boasted beauty andfertility, as were the half-clad wretches who flocked around us of thatwarlike people of whom we had heard so much. Where were the chivalrouschieftains with their clans behind them? Where the thousands gatheringaround a national standard? Where that high-souled patriotism,content to risk fortune, station--all, in the conflict for nationalindependence? A rabble led on by a few reckless debauchees, and two orthree disreputable or degraded priests, were our only allies; and eventhese refused to be guided by our councils, or swayed by our authority.I half suspected Serasin was right when he said--'Let the Directory sendthirty thousand men and make it a French province, but let us not fightan enemy to give the victory to the _sans-culottes_.'

  As we neared the pass of Barnageeragh, I turned one last look on thetown of Castlebar, around which, at little intervals of space, thewatch-fires of our pickets were blazing; all the rest of the place wasin darkness.

  It was a strange and a thrilling thought to think that there, hundredsof miles from their home, without one link that could connect themto it, lay a little army in the midst of an enemy's country, calm,self-possessed, and determined. How many, thought I, are destined toleave it? How many will bring back to our dear France the memory of thisunhappy struggle?