Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  WHAT I FOUND UNDER THE HEARTHSTONE AT KILGORMAN.

  Our journey northward was uneventful. Captain Swift and I partedcompany at Derry. My orders were to join the _Diana_ at Dublin at theend of the month, which allowed me only a little over a fortnight for mybusiness in Donegal.

  You may fancy with what mingled feelings I found myself one eveningstanding once more on the quay at Rathmullan, looking down the lough asit lay bathed in the shifting colours of the spring sunset, trying todetect in the distance the familiar little clump of trees behind whichnestled Knockowen House. Was this journey one of peace or of war? Didhope lurk for me behind yonder trees; or had I come all this way todiscover that the old comrade was forsaken for the new, and that thehumble star of the sailor boy had been snuffed out by the gay sun of thegentleman soldier?

  Then as my eye travelled further north and caught the bluff headlandstowards the lough mouth, other doubts seized me. My mother's messagehad burned holes in my pocket ever since I set foot again on Irish soil.And that sacred duty done, what fate awaited me among the secret rebelsfrom whose clutches, when last I saw the Swilly, I was fleeing for mylife, but who now, if I was to believe what I had heard, counted Tim, myown brother, in their ranks?

  Late as it was, I was too impatient to postpone my fate by a night'srest at the inn, and hired a boat for a sail down the lough.

  Few men were about, and those who were could never have recognised inthe tall, bronzed, bearded boatswain the poor, uncouth lad who fouryears ago rowed his honour's boat. One or two that I saw I fancied Iknew, one particularly, who had changed little since he held his gun tomy head that night on the hills when I half took the oath of thesociety.

  It was market day, and many boats were on the water, so that littlenotice was taken of me as I hoisted my sail and ran down on the familiartack for the point below Knockowen.

  The light soon fell, and I watched eagerly for the window lights. Onceor twice on the road north I had heard of the travellers in the privatecarriage, and knew they had reached home a day or two ago; and to thisnews one gossip that I encountered on the road to Rathmullan added thatMistress Gorman, my little lady's mother, had died two years ago, andthat the maid was now her father's only companion and housekeeper.

  Presently the well-known twinkle of light shot out, and towards it, witha heart that throbbed more restlessly than my boat, I turned my keel.

  When I came up level with the house it was all I could do to refrainfrom running my boat alongside the landing-place as of yore. I loweredmy sail and let her drift as close under the bank as possible. No onewas stirring. There were lights in the upper room, and one above thehall-door. Towards the former I strained my eyes longingly for aglimpse even of her shadow. How long I waited I knew not--it might havebeen a minute or an hour--but presently she came, her figure, morewomanly than when I last saw it, dark against the light within, and herhair falling in waves upon her shoulder. She stood for a moment at theclosed window, then opened it and looked out. The night was cold anddark; but she braved it, and sat humming a tune, her hand playing withthe ivy that crept up to the window-sill.

  The air was one I knew. Many a time had she crooned it in the old daysas I rowed her in the boat. Once, on a specially happy evening, she hadsung it in the attic on the Quai Necker in Paris, and had laughed when Iput in a rough bass.

  I could not help, as I stood and listened, repeating the experiment,first very softly, then less so, and finally loud enough for her tohear.

  What fools we men are! At that instant, with a savage howl, a dog--myown dog Con--rushed down the garden to the spot. The window closedabruptly; there was a sound of voices in the yard and a drawing of boltsat the hall-door, and a hurrying of lights within. I had barely time tocast off from the stake by which I held, and let my boat into the rapidebb, when footsteps sounded on the gravel, and a shot fired into thenight woke the echoes of the lough.

  So much for my serenading, and so much for the life of security andpeace my little mistress was doomed to live in her father's house.

  I cared not much where the tide took me after that, till presently thetossing of my boat warned me that I must be on the reef off Kilgormancliffs. In the darkness I could see nothing, but my memory was strongenough to serve for moon and compass both. On this tide and with thiswind ten minutes would bring me into the creek.

  Why not? Why not now as well as any other time? I was a man, andfeared ghosts no longer. Love had been warned away from Knockowen; dutyshould welcome me at Kilgorman. So I put down my helm, let out mysheet, commended myself to my Maker, and made for the black rocks.

  I was determined to avoid the creek and make for the house by the narrowcave which, as I had discovered at my last visit, led up from the shoreto the great hearth in the kitchen of the house, and which, as it thenseemed, was a secret passage known only to his honour and the smugglersin his employ. It needed some groping about in the dark to find theledge of rock behind which was the small crack in the cliff that markedthe entrance; but I hit on it after a little, and, shoving through,found myself inside the cave. I moored my boat beside the rocky ledge,and then clambered up to the entrance of the narrow gallery. Once theremy course was clear; only I wished I had a light, for I knocked first myhead, then my knees, then my elbows, and finally had to complete thejourney in humble fashion on my hands and knees.

  It surprised me greatly, when after long groping I supposed myself closeto my destination, to perceive the glimmer of a light at the end of thepassage, still more to hear the sound of voices. Were they ghosts orsmugglers, or what?

  If ghosts, I was disposed to venture on. That they were smugglers Icould hardly believe, for there had been no sight of a ship anywherenear, nor of a boat in the cave. Whoever they were, they must haveentered the place by the ordinary way above ground, and if so wereprobably unaware of the secret passage. At any rate, I had come so far,and would not turn back till I saw good reason. I had a pistol in mypocket and a tolerably handy knife, with which, even if surprised, Icould give a good account of myself. So I crawled on, and presentlycame to a place where I could stand upright, and crept close under thecorner of the upright stones that flanked the great hearth.

  The mystery of the light and voices was soon explained. About a dozenmen were assembled in the kitchen, lit up by the glare of a commoncandle, engaged in earnest consultation. Among the few faces which thelight revealed to me I recognised some of my old foes of the secretsociety, and in the voices of others whose faces were hidden Irecognised more.

  The subject under discussion was twofold, and as its meaning graduallydawned on me I felt no compunction in listening.

  The first matter was a letter, which had evidently been read before Iarrived, from the leaders of the United Irishmen in Dublin, calling fora return of the members and officers and arms in each district. Fromwhat I could gather, Donegal was not a hopeful region. It numbered,indeed, a few branches of the society scattered up and down the countylike that now in session, and was supposed to possess a few arms, and tobe able when called upon to put into the field a few drilled men; butcompared with other districts it was ineffective, and more given over tosmuggling and unorganised raids than to disciplined work for the causeof Irish liberty.

  This, as far as I could gather, was the subject of the somewhatupbraiding letter which had arrived from headquarters.

  "Arrah, thin, and it's the truth they're spakin'," said one voice, "andwe'll need to be moving."

  "Move, is it? How'll you move when only the half of yez--and that'ssome of yez as are not here the night--come to the meetings? Sure wecould move fast enough if all the boys that's sworn would jine us."

  "Anyhow, here's the paper. It 'ud be a shame if Donegal was not to havea hand in the turn-out when it comes. Bedad, I'd move across to Antrimif it came to that."

  "And as for officers, sure we're well off for them. Isn't LarryFlanagan here a rale born secretary; and Jake Finn makes an ili
ganttreasurer; and as for captain--"

  "Ah, I can name you the man for that."

  "Who now? for it's not iverybody that'll suit."

  "Tim Gallagher's your man."

  If I started at this, the sound was lost in the general acclamationwhich the proposal evoked.

  "Faith, and you've named the very boy. Young as he is, his heart's inthe business."

  "And more by tokens, he's well spoke of by them that know. I'm eventold Lord Edward has a good word for him."

  "If there's anything against him, it is that he's brother to that scurvyinformer that set Gorman on to us, and who, I hear, is still about. Timwill have to go the whole hog if he's to lead us. There's hunting downto be done, I warn you, as well as fighting."

  "Anyhow, Tim's the boy for us, and I propose him. He's due back thisweek, if he's not caught by his honour's ferrets."

  "That brings us to the other matter," said the man already spoken of asFlanagan, the secretary, in whom I recognised one of my old persecutors,"and it's about that same vermin. I've a letter from the UlsterCommittee bidding us deal with Gorman in a way that's best for the goodof Ireland."

  "That means a bullet in him," said one man bluntly.

  "Faith, and you've hit it, my lad. We've been squeamish enough."

  "It's got to be done, and soon, or he'll get the upper hand of us.There's men of his away seizing the arms in Rathmullan and Milford thisweek--him as was the manes of bringing them in too!"

  "It's one man's job. His house is too well guarded for a raid; he mustbe met on the hillside. I say, let's draw lots. To-morrow he's to rideto Malin by the Black Hill road."

  "Ay, that's the road Terence Gorman rode the night he paid his debts.It's a grand place for squaring up is the Black Hill."

  "Come now," said Flanagan, who had been busily marking a piece of paper,"there's a paper for each of yez, and the one that draws the cross isthe boy for the job. Come, one at a time now; draw out of my ould hat,and good luck to yez all."

  One by one they advanced and drew, and the lot fell on one they calledPaddy Corkill, whose vicious face fell a little as he saw the fatalmark.

  "Arrah, and it's me hasn't aven a gun," said he.

  "Take mine--it's a good one," said the secretary; "and more by tokens itwas Tim Gallagher's once, for he gave it me, and his name's on it. To-morrow noight we meet here to hear your news, Paddy, if we're not on thehill, some of us, to see the job done."

  "Faith, if it must be done it must," said Paddy. "It's no light thingsetting a country free."

  "Away with yez now," said the secretary, "or the ghost will be huntingyez."

  On which the meeting dispersed. I could hear their footsteps die awaydown the passage, and presently pass crunching on the gravel outside,while I remained crouched where I was, as still as a mouse, hardlyknowing if I was awake or dreamed.

  There was no time to be lost, that I could plainly see. But how toprevent this wicked crime was what puzzled me. I could not hope to gainadmittance to Knockowen at this time of night; or if I did, I shouldprobably only thwart my own object, and subject myself to arrest as theassociate of assassins. His honour, I knew, was in the habit ofstarting betimes when business called him to Malin. If I was to doanything, it must be on the Black Hill itself; and thither, accordingly,I resolved to go.

  But before I quitted Kilgorman I had another duty scarcely less sacredthan that of saving a life from destruction. I stood on the very spotto which my mother's last message had pointed me, and nothing shouldtear me now from the place till that wandering spirit was eased of itsnightly burden.

  "_If you love God, whoever you are_," (so the message ran), "_seek belowthe great hearth; and what you find there, see to it, as you hope forgrace. God send this into the hands of one who loves truth and charity.Amen_."

  Even while I repeated the words to myself, my ear seemed to catch thefluttering footstep advancing down the passage and hear the rustle ofthe woman's dress as she passed through the door and approached myhiding-place. A beam of moonlight struck across the floor, and thenight wind-swept with a wail round the gables without. Then all wassilence, except what seemed to my strained senses a light tap, as withthe sole of a foot, on the flagstone that stretched across in front ofthe fireplace. After that even the wind hushed and the moonlight wentout.

  I advanced cautiously over the embers, and felt my way down the room andinto the passage without. There, where the conspirators had left it,stood the candle, and the tinder-box beside it. I carried the lightback to the hearth, shading it with my hand for fear any one withoutmight see it, and set it down beside the flagstone. All over this stoneI groped without finding any trace of a rift or any hint of how to liftso formidable a weight. It seemed fast set in the boards, and gave nosound of hollowness or symptom of unsteadiness when I tried it.

  I was almost beginning to lose heart, when I knelt by chance, not on thestone, but on a short board at the side, which ran at right angles withthe general planks, and seemed intended as part of a kind of frameworkto the stone. This board creaked under my weight; and when I lookedmore closely at it, I discovered a couple of sunk hinges let deep intothe plank adjoining, and covered over with dust and rust. With mysailor's knife I cleared away at the edges, and after several trials,one of which broke my blade, I managed to raise it and swing it back onits hinges.

  The slight cavity below was full of dirt and rubbish, and it was nottill I had cleared these away that I found it ran partly under theadjoining flagstone. The hole was too small to look into, but I couldget in my hand, and after some groping came upon what I wanted.

  It was a small leather packet, carefully folded and tied round, not muchlarger than an envelope, and fastened on either side with a wafer.Slipped under the outer string was a smaller folded paper, on the coverof which I recognised, to my great amazement, my own name.

  I thrust both packet and paper into my pocket, and after satisfyingmyself that the hole contained nothing more, filled it up again, andrestored the hinged board to its old position. Then I extinguished andreplaced the candle, and a few minutes later was hurrying, with myprecious freight, down the rocky corridor towards the cave where I hadleft my boat.

  I was not long in getting into the outer world once more. My boat Ileft where it was, and scrambled up the rocks to the place from which Ihad once watched the _Arrow_ as she lay at anchor. Here I flung myselfon the turf and waited impatiently for daylight.

  It came at last, and at its first glow I took the packet from my pocket.The small outer paper addressed to me was in Tim's hand, and was verybrief. "Dear Barry," it said, "I searched as I promised, and have readthis letter. Time enough when Ireland's business is done to attend toyours and mine.--Tim." From this I turned with trembling curiosity tothe packet itself, and took from it a faded paper, written in a strange,uncultured hand, but signed at the end with my mother's feeblesignature, and dated a month after Tim's and my birth.

  This is the strange matter it contained:--

  "I, Mary Gallagher, being at the point of death,"--that was as she thensupposed, but she lived many a year after, as the reader knows--"and asI hope for mercy from God, into whose presence I am summoned, declarethat the girl-child who was buried beside my Mistress Gorman was nothers but mine. My twins were the boy who lives and the girl who died.My lady's child is the boy who passes as twin-brother to mine. It wasMaurice Gorman led me to this wrong. The night that Terence Gorman, mymaster, was murdered and my lady died of the news, Maurice persuaded meto change my dead girl for my lady's living boy, threatening that unlessI did so he would show that Mike, my husband, was his master's murderer.To save my husband I consented. Had I been sure of him I would haverefused; but I feared Mike had a hand in that night's work, though I amsure it was not he who fired the shot. Thus I helped Maurice Gorman tobecome master of Kilgorman and all his brother's property. But they nomore belong to him than the boy belongs to me. And if this be the lastword I say on earth, it is all true, as Maurice kno
ws himself, and Biddythe nurse, who writes this from my lips. God forgive me, and send thisto the hands of them that will make the wrong right.

  (Signed)

  "Mary Gallagher."

  "N.B.--The above is true, every word, to my knowledge.

  (Signed)

  "Biddy McQuilkin."