Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

  WHAT I FOUND AT MALIN.

  It was nine o'clock when I came alongside his honour's jetty, and oncemore demanded entrance of the sentry. This time I was received evenmore suspiciously than in the morning, and was allowed to wait fornearly half-an-hour before it was decided that I might safely beadmitted into the premises. For this irritating delay I had probably tothank the impatience with which I met the sentinel's questions; for whenat last I found myself at the house, his honour met me with an inquirywhy I had delayed my coming to so late an hour.

  "It is four long leagues to Malin," said he, "and on such a road you arenot likely to be there before midnight, when the inn will be closed.However, get Martin to saddle Tara for you. I wish Miss Kit and hermaid to start for Derry at daybreak."

  "Where is she now?" I asked.

  "At the house of Mr Shannon, the magistrate who is with me here."

  "And where is she to be taken in Derry?"

  "To the Foyle Inn, where she will find instructions from me as to herjourney to Dublin."

  "Have you the pass?"

  He handed me a paper, which read:--

  "The bearer rides on my orders. Pass him, and two ladies.--MonsieurGorman of Knockowen."

  I was turning to the stable when he called me back.

  "Remember my advice of this morning. Don't return here if you valueyour liberty. There are warrants out against all the men named in thelist. The authorities are in earnest this time."

  The tone in which he said this, coming from a man who had paltered withtreason for years, struck me as contemptible; but I had no time justthen to let him see what I felt.

  "I will take care of myself," said I; "and your honour will do well toremember what I said about Tim. When the reckoning for all thisbusiness comes, it will stand you in good stead." And not waiting tohear his reply, I went off to the stables.

  Martin, whom the reader will remember, and who, despite his connectionwith the marauders and his bad odour with the police, continued toretain his place in his honour's service, was nowhere to be found. Hehad been absent, said the boy, since the afternoon, when he had takenoff Tara for exercise.

  I was obliged, therefore, to put up with an inferior animal, and tosaddle him myself. But I was too impatient to be off to allow of anyfurther delay.

  "At what hour is the tide full?" I asked of one of the servants.

  "Half-an-hour after midnight," was the reply.

  As he spoke, the clock in the hall struck half-past nine.

  "In three hours," said I to myself, as I galloped down the avenue, "theDutchman at Malin weighs anchor."

  It was well for me I was no stranger to the rough, mountainous road Ihad to travel, for the night was pitch dark, and scarcely a soul wasafoot at that late hour. I did, indeed, encounter a patrol of troopersnear the Black Hill, who ordered me to halt and dismount and give anaccount of myself. But his honour's passport satisfied them, as it didthe sentry who challenged me on entering the little town of Carndonagh.Thence to Malin it is but two leagues; but my wretched beast was sospent that, unless I wished to leave it on the road, I was compelled totake it most of the way at a foot's pace; so that when at last I pulledup before the little inn at Malin, it was on the stroke of midnight.

  "Faith, Mr Gorman's fond of sending messengers," said the landlord."There was another of his here two hours since."

  "What!" I exclaimed, springing up from the bench at which I waspartaking of a hurried supper.

  "Ay; he came with a message for the young lady up yonder at MrShannon's."

  "What sort of man was he?"

  "Much like yourself--a common-looking man, with a shaven face and a nosethat turns up."

  "Did he ride an iron-grey mare?" said I.

  "Faith, a beauty."

  "It's Martin!" I exclaimed, confirmed more than ever in my suspicionsof foul play. "Show me Mr Shannon's house, like a decent man," said Ito mine host.

  "There'll be no one stirring there at this hour. His honour's away withMr Gorman, and the women folks will be a-bed long since."

  "Never mind about that," said I; "show me the house."

  The landlord grumblingly turned out and walked with me to the Hall,which was some half-mile beyond the village.

  "Yonder's the house," said he, stopping short, and pointing to a clumpof trees just discernible in the darkness. "You'll not be wanting mefurther?"

  I hastened on, and was presently knocking loudly at the door of theHall. The house was quite dark, and every one had evidently retired forthe night. Nearly ten minutes elapsed before a window opened, and asurly voice called out,--

  "Well? Who's there, disturbing decent folk at this hour?"

  "A messenger from Mr Gorman. Is the young lady at home? I must seeher instantly."

  "Young leddy! There's none younger than the mistress, and she sleeps atnight like a decent woman."

  "Has Miss Gorman gone, then?" I exclaimed.

  "Why not, when she was sent for?"

  "Who sent for her? When did she go? Where has she gone? Let me in, Isay. There's foul play, and I must see your mistress instantly."

  My agitation succeeded in convincing the fellow that something wasamiss, and he put in his head and presently unbarred the front door.

  "Mercy on us! what's the meaning of all this?" said the old man-servantas I stepped into the hall.

  "Let me see Mrs Shannon," said I.

  "What is it?" said a voice on the stairs before the butler could answer.

  I explained my mission, and inquired if it was true that Miss Kit hadalready departed.

  "To be sure," said the lady. "Mr Gorman's groom, Martin, rode overfrom Knockowen this evening with a message--"

  "Written?" I interrupted.

  "No; Mr Gorman was too busy to write. It was to say that a passage hadbeen taken for Miss Kit and a maid on a brig that happened to be lyingoff the Five Fingers; and that, as he found the ship was to sail forDublin with the flood to-night, he had sent over Martin to see hersafely on board. I confess it seemed a little unusual; and Miss Kit wasvery reluctant to start on such short notice, saying it had beenarranged she was to travel overland by way of Derry. But tell me,what's amiss?"

  "Foul play; nothing less!" cried I. "That ship is bound, not forDublin, but for Holland; and this is a vile plot of the rebels to berevenged on Gorman, and decoy away his daughter as a hostage. Where didMartin say the ship lay?"

  "At Five Fingers, west of the headland; two leagues from here."

  "When did they start from here?"

  "Ten o'clock."

  "On foot?"

  "No. They rode; and will have been there an hour ago."

  "Can you lend me a horse? Mine at the inn is spent."

  "There's the cart-horse," said the butler.

  "That wall do. Mrs Shannon, I beg you will send over a man at once toKnockowen and let his honour know how matters stand. I will ride toFive Fingers and see if anything is to be done or learned. What sort ofgirl is the maid?"

  "A soft creature enough. She and this Martin have been courting a yearpast."

  With a groan of despair I followed the butler to the yard, and bridledthe unwieldy beast I found there.

  "It's a fool's errand you are on," said the old retainer; "but maybeyou'll have the luck to come within arm's-length of that blackguardMartin. I always doubted him. Are you armed?"

  "I have a pistol."

  "Take yonder old sword," said he, pointing to a rusty weapon suspendedon the stable wall. "It has seen service before now."

  Thus mounted and accoutred, I dug my heels into the flanks of the greathorse, and, in the breaking dawn, made along the rocky track which thebutler had pointed out as leading to Five Fingers.

  "If nothing can be done," said I, as I left, "I will return here."

  "Dear send we shall see you no more then," said the old man.

  Along the road which led from Malin village to the promontory rapidprogress was
impossible, and but that I hoped to have better use for myhorse later on, I could almost have gone as well on foot.

  As the early May dawn lifted, I could get glimpses of the sea lying calmon my left, with a light breeze off the land stirring its surface.

  "That is in favour of the Dutchman," groaned I.

  Not a human being, scarcely a wayside hut, did I see during that tediousride, as my lumbering beast stumbled over the loose stones and plashedhis way, fetlock deep, through the bog. At length I came to the placewhich the butler had described as the spot where I was to turn off theroad and make by a grass track for the sea-level.

  A short way down this latter path brought me to a corner which opened asudden view of the sea to northward. Gazing eagerly in that direction,the first sight which met my eyes was a brig, with all sails set,standing out to sea before the wind, about a mile or two from the shore.

  Too late! I had expected nothing else, but the certainty of it nowdrove me into a frenzy of wrath. I flung myself from the horse andstrode, pistol in hand, towards the deserted shore. There, except forhoof-marks, which convinced me three horses had passed that way, therewas no sign of living being. By the tracks I could almost fix the spotat which the party had put off, doubtless in one of the brig's boats.Of the return track of the horses I could find nothing, and judged thatthey had been taken off either at the edge of the water, which the tidehad subsequently covered, or up one of the hard rocky tracks towards theforeland.

  Along one of these, which seemed the most likely, I went for somedistance. It brought me out on to the cliff-top, but disclosed no traceof what I sought.

  I took my red scarf, and fixing it on the end of the sword, waved itdefiantly at the receding ship. Whether it was seen or not, or whether,if seen, it was understood by those who alone would be likely tounderstand it, I could not say.

  I was about to return to Malin when a thin curl of smoke from behind arock advised me that there was at least one human habitation withinreach, where it might be possible to get information. It was a wretchedmud hovel backing on to the rock--its roof of sods being held at thecorners by stones--and boasting no window, only the door out of whichthe smoke was pouring.

  An old man, with the stump of a clay pipe in his lips, was turning hispig out to grass as I approached. He looked at me suspiciously, andwent on without replying to my salutation.

  "Good-morrow, father," said I. "You've had a ship in overnight, I see."

  "Like enough," replied he in Irish. "Thrt--thrt!" and he gave the pig aswitch.

  "Was she English?" I asked.

  "'Deed I know nothing of her," said he with a cunning look whichconvinced me he was lying.

  "What does she carry?" I continued, playing with the butt of the pistolin my belt.

  He was quick enough to notice this gentle hint.

  "Bad luck to the ship!" said he; "she's no concern of mine. What areyou looking for? The trade brings me no good."

  "Hark here," said I, pulling the weapon from my belt and balancing it onmy fingers. "I'm no custom-house runner. Your cabin may be full, as itprobably is, of rum or bitters for all I care," here he gave a wince ofrelief. "I want to know what yonder brig carried off, not what she leftashore."

  "Sure, I thought your honour was from the police," said the man with aleer.

  "Tell me," said I, "who went off in the ship's boat early this morning."

  "Three just--a man and two females."

  "Did you know any of them?"

  "Maybe I did, maybe no. One of the ladies was maid to Mistress Shannon,away at Malin."

  "And the man?"

  "He's the boy that's courting that same maid, and comes from Knockowen."

  "And the other lady?"

  "I never saw her before; but I'm thinking she was a rale lady."

  "Who rowed them out to the ship?"

  "Some of the crew, by the lingo they talked."

  "Did they leave the horses?"

  "They did. It was me took them and turned them back over the hill.They'll find their ways home."

  "What is the ship's name?"

  "That I can't say, except that she was Dutch."

  "How long had she been lying off here?"

  "Since yesterday morning just."

  "What was her cargo?"

  "Sure, your honour said that was no matter at all."

  "Was it Dutch goods?"

  "It was; and if you'll wait here I'll fetch a drop of it to you," saidhe nervously.

  "Stay where you are," said I. "Tell me, who is there can say what theship's name is and where bound?"

  "No one, unless it's Hugh Henry at the inn below."

  "Did the young lady say anything as they took her on the boat?"

  "Sure, she asked to see the captain, and to know when they were to reachDublin, and seemed to mislike the voyage altogether. But I heard Martinsay it was her father's orders, and that he would be in Dublin to meether."

  This was all the news I could gather, but it was enough to confirm myworst suspicions. Leaving the old man still in doubt as to the motivefor my questions, I returned as rapidly as I could to Malin, andpresented myself at the inn.

  "Sure, I thought you were away," said the host, who came down half-dressed to admit me.

  "I want to know something about the Dutch ship that was in hereovernight," said I. "Not," I added, as I noticed the conscious fall ofhis face, "that I care what she carried. No doubt she was a smuggler,and that you and she had your business together--"

  "'Deed, sir," he began, "may the--"

  "Whisht!" said I, "that will do later. Just now I must know her name,and whither bound. The young lady at the Hall has been decoyed away inher, and must be found."

  His amazement convinced me that at least he had been no party to theabduction, which had probably, and wisely so, been confided to no onebeyond Martin and the officials of the secret society.

  "The young leddy, Mr Gorman's daughter, carried off!" and he indulgedin a long whistle. "I always said his honour would get into troublewith a kittle girl like that."

  "Hold your tongue, you scoundrel," shouted I, "unless you want itcrammed down your throat, and tell me the ship's name and her port."

  "No offence, sir," said the honest landlord, taken aback by my anger,and by the gleam of the pistol which I set down on the table--"nooffence, sir. She was the brig _Scheldt_ from Rotterdam, a well-foundcraft that's been this way before with messages from the Irish inHolland to those at home."

  With this I made once more for the Hall, where I found the household up,and in a state of anxious expectation. When they heard my story, greatwas the distress of the lady of the house to discover how she, in whosecharge Miss Kit had been left, had been imposed upon. She implored meto wait till Mr Shannon returned from Knockowen; but as it was doubtfulwhen that would be, such delay seemed useless.

  Before I left I wrote a letter to Mr Gorman giving him all theparticulars I could. He would no doubt receive an official notice fromthe rebels, naming their conditions for restoring their hostage. But socowardly and shambling a creature had this father become, that I doubtedvery much whether he would risk much even to recover his child.

  I then returned once more to the inn, where already the news of thenight's adventure had attracted a group of gossips. The landlord seeingme, took me aside and handed me a paper.

  "Here's a song of another tune," said he. "It was left by the Dutchskipper, and may be news to some of you."

  I read it. It was a proclamation to the people of Ireland, couched inbombastic language, and stating that the hour of deliverance was athand. A foreign fleet was about to descend on our northern coasts. Anyday now the signal might be given for Ireland to rise. All was ready,and trusty leaders would accompany the friendly fleet. A strong blowwell struck would end Ireland's ills for ever. And so on.

  "What do I want with this?" said I, giving back the paper. "Give it tothose who want it. I've had enough of the Dutch for one night."

&n
bsp; And saddling my horse I started, in what sort of humour my readers mayimagine, towards Derry.