Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

For some minutes the dialogue continued in an animated strain between the two; the vehement tone and gestures of each bespeaking what sounded at least like altercation; and Madgett at last turned half angrily away, saying, ‘The fellow is too ignorant; he actually knows nothing of what is passing before his eyes.’

‘Is there no one else on board can speak this barargouinage?’ cried Humbert, in anger.

‘Yes, general, I can interrogate him,’ cried a young lad named Conolly, who had only joined us on the day before we sailed.

And now as the youth addressed the fisherman in a few rapid sentences, the other answered as quickly, making a gesture with his hands that implied grief, or even despair.

‘We can interpret that for ourselves,’ broke in Humbert; ‘he is telling you that the game is up.’

‘Exactly so, general; he says that the insurrection has been completely put down, that the Irish forces are scattered or disbanded, and all the leaders taken.’

‘The fellow is just as likely to be an English spy,’ said Madgett, in a whisper; but Humbert’s gesture of impatience showed how little trust he reposed in the allegation.

‘Ask him what English troops are quartered in this part of the country,’ said the general.

‘A few militia, and two squadrons of dragoons,’ was the prompt reply.

‘No artillery?’

‘None.’

‘Is there any rumour of our coming abroad, or have the frigates been seen?’ asked Humbert.

‘They were seen last night from the church steeple of Killala, general,’ said Conolly, translating, ‘but believed to be English.’

‘Come; that is the best news he has brought us yet,’ said Humbert, laughing; ‘we shall at least surprise them a little. Ask him what men of rank or consequence live in the neighbourhood, and how are they affected towards the expedition?’

A few words, and a low dry laugh, made all the peasant’s reply.

‘Eh, what says he?’ asked Humbert.

‘He says, sir, that, except a Protestant bishop, there’s nothing of the rank of gentry here.’

‘I suppose we need scarcely expect his blessing on our efforts,’ said Humbert, with a hearty laugh. ‘What is he saying now? – what is he looking at?’

‘He says that we are now in the very best anchorage of the bay,’ said Conolly, ‘and that on the whole coast there’s not a safer spot.’

A brief consultation now took place between the general and naval officers, and in a few seconds the word was given to take in all sail and anchor.

‘I wish I could speak to that honest fellow myself,’ said Humbert, as he stood watching the fisherman, who, with a peasant curiosity, had now approached the mast, and was passing his fingers across the blades of the cutlasses as they stood in the sword-rack.

‘Sharp enough for the English, eh?’ cried Humbert, in French, but with a gesture that seemed at once intelligible. A dry nod of the head gave assent to the remark.

‘If I understand him aright,’ said Humbert, in a half-whisper to Conolly, ‘we are as little expected by our friends as by our enemies; and that there is little or no force in arms among the Irish.’

‘There are plenty ready to fight, he says, sir, but none accustomed to discipline.’

A gesture, half contemptuous, was all Humbert’s reply, and he now turned away and walked the deck alone and in silence. Meanwhile the bustle and movements of the crew continued, and soon the great ships, their sails all coiled, lay tranquilly at anchor in a sea without a ripple.

‘A boat is coming out from the shore, general,’ whispered the lieutenant on duty.

‘Ask the fisherman if he knows it.’

Conolly drew the peasant’s attention to the object, and the man, after looking steadily for a few seconds, became terribly agitated.

‘What is it, man – can’t you tell who it is?’ asked Conolly.

But although so composed before, so ready with all his replies, he seemed now totally unmanned – his frank and easy features being struck with the signs of palpable terror. At last, and with an effort that bespoke all his fears, he muttered – ’ ‘Tis the king’s boat is coming, and ‘tis the collector’s on board of her!’

‘Is that all?’ cried Conolly, laughing, as he translated the reply to the general.

‘Won’t you say that I’m a prisoner, sir; won’t you tell them that you “took” me?’ said the fisherman, in an accent of fervent entreaty, for already his mind anticipated the casualty of a failure, and what might betide him afterwards; but no one now had any care for him or his fortunes – all was in preparation to conceal the national character of the ships. The marines were ordered below, and all others whose uniforms might betray their country, while the English colours floated from every mast-head.

General Humbert, with Serasin and two others, remained on the poop-deck, where they continued to walk, apparently devoid of any peculiar interest or anxiety in the scene. Madgett alone betrayed agitation at this moment, his pale face was paler than ever, and there seemed to me a kind of studious care in the way he covered himself up with his cloak, so that not a vestige of his uniform could be seen.

The boat now came close under our lee, and Conolly being ordered to challenge her in English, the collector, standing up in the stern, touched his hat, and announced his rank. The gangway-ladder was immediately lowered, and three gentlemen ascended the ship’s side and walked aft to the poop. I was standing near the bulwark at the time, watching the scene with intense interest. As General Humbert stood a little in advance of the rest, the collector, probably taking him for the captain, addressed him with some courteous expressions of welcome, and was proceeding to speak of the weather, when the general gently stopped him by asking if he spoke French.

I shall never forget the terror of face that question evoked. At first, looking at his two companions, the collector turned his eyes to the gaff, where the English flag was flying; but still unable to utter a word, he stood like one entranced.

‘You have been asked if you can speak French, sir?’ said Conolly, at a sign from the general.

‘No – very little – very badly – not at all; but isn’t this – am I not on board of – ’

‘Can none of them speak French?’ said Humbert shortly.

‘Yes, sir,’ said a young man on the collector’s right; ‘I can make myself intelligible in that language, although no great proficient.’

‘Who are you, monsieur? – are you a civilian?’ asked Humbert.

‘Yes, sir. I am the son of the Bishop of Killala, and this young gentleman is my brother.’

‘What is the amount of the force in this neighbourhood?’

‘You will pardon me, sir,’ said the youth, ‘if I ask, first, who it is puts this question, and under what circumstances I am expected to answer it.’

‘All frank and open, sir,’ said Humbert, good-humouredly. ‘I ‘m the General Humbert, commanding the army for the liberation of Ireland – so much for your first question. As to your second one, I believe that if you have any concern for yourself, or those belonging to you, you will find that nothing will serve your interest so much as truth and plain dealing.’

‘Fortunately, then, for me,’ said the youth, laughing, ‘I cannot betray my king’s cause, for I know nothing, nothing whatever, about the movement of troops. I seldom go ten miles from home, and have not been even at Ballina since last winter.’

‘Why so cautious about your information, then, sir,’ broke in Serasin roughly, ‘since you have none to give?’

‘Because I had some to receive, sir, and was curious to know where I was standing,’ said the young man boldly.

While these few sentences were being interchanged, Madgett had learned from the collector that, except a few companies of militia and fencibles, the country was totally unprovided with troops; but he also learned that the people were so crest-fallen and subdued in courage from the late failure of the rebellion, that it was very doubtful whether our coming would arouse them to another effort. This information, particularly the latter part of it, Madgett imparted to Humbert at once, and I thought, by his manner, and the eagerness with which he spoke, that he seemed to use all his powers to dissuade the general from a landing; at least I overheard him more than once say – ‘Had we been farther north, sir – ’

Humbert quickly stopped him by the words —

‘And what prevents us, when we have landed, sir, in extending our line north’ard? – the winds cannot surely master us, when we have our feet on the sward. Enough of all this; let these gentlemen be placed in security, and none have access to them without my orders. Make signal for the commanding-officers to come on board here. We’ve had too much of speculation – a little action now will be more profitable.’

‘So, we are prisoners, it seems!’ said the young man who spoke French, as he moved away with the others, who, far more depressed in spirit, hung their heads in silence, as they descended between decks.

Scarcely was the signal for a council of war seen from the mast-head, when the different boats might be descried stretching across the bay with speed. And now all were assembled in General Humbert’s cabin whose rank and station in the service entitled them to the honour of being consulted.

To such of us as held inferior ‘grade,’ the time passed tediously enough as we paced the deck, now turning from the aspect of the silent and seemingly uninhabited cliffs along shore to listen if no sign betokened the breaking up of the council; nor were we without serious fears that the expedition would be abandoned altogether. This suspicion originated with some of the Irish themselves, who, however confident of success, and boastful of their country’s resources before we sailed, now made no scruple of averring that everything was the exact reverse of what they had stated, for that the people were dispirited, the national forces disbanded, neither arms, money, nor organisation anywhere – in fact, that a more hopeless scheme could not be thought of than the attempt, and that its result could not fail to be defeat and ruin to all concerned.

Shall I own that the bleak and lonely aspect of the hills along shore, the dreary character of the landscape, the almost deathlike stillness of the scene, aided these gloomy impressions, and made it seem as if we were about to try our fortune on some desolate spot, without one look of encouragement, or one word of welcome to greet us? The sight of even an enemy’s force would have been a relief to this solitude – the stir and movement of a rival army would have given spirit to our daring, and nerved our courage, but there was something inexpressibly sad in this unbroken monotony.

A few tried to jest upon the idea of liberating a land that had no inhabitants – the emancipation of a country without people; but even French flippancy failed to be witty on a theme so linked with all our hopes and fears, and at last a dreary silence fell upon all, and we walked the deck without speaking, waiting and watching for the result of that deliberation which already had lasted above four mortal hours.

Twice was the young man who spoke French summoned to the cabin, but, from the briefness of his stay, apparently with little profit; and now the day began to wane, and the tall cliffs threw their lengthened shadows over the still waters of the bay, and yet nothing was resolved on. To the quiet and respectful silence of expectation, now succeeded a low and half-subdued muttering of discontent; groups of five or six together were seen along the deck, talking with eagerness and animation, and it was easy to see that whatever prudential or cautious reasons dictated to the leaders, their arguments found little sympathy with the soldiers of the expedition. I almost began to fear that if a determination to abandon the exploit were come to, a mutiny might break out, when my attention was drawn off by an order to accompany Colonel Gharost on shore to reconnoitre. This at least looked like business, and I jumped into the small boat with alacrity.

With the speed of four oars stoutly plied, we skimmed along the calm surface, and soon saw ourselves close in to the shore. Some little time was spent in looking for a good place to land, for although not the slightest air of wind was blowing, the long swell of the Atlantic broke upon the rocks with a noise like thunder. At last we shot into a little creek with a shelving gravelly beach, and completely concealed by the tall rocks on every side; and now we sprang out, and stood upon Irish ground!

CHAPTER XIX. A RECONNAISSANCE

From the little creek where we landed, a small zigzag path led up the sides of the cliff, the track by which the peasants carried the sea-weed which they gathered for manure, and up this we now slowly wended our way.

Stopping for some time to gaze at the ample bay beneath us, the tall-masted frigates floating so majestically on its glassy surface – it was a scene of tranquil and picturesque beauty with which it would have been almost impossible to associate the idea of war and invasion. In the lazy bunting that hung listlessly from peak and mast-head – in the cheerful voices of the sailors, heard afar off in the stillness – in the measured plash of the sea itself, and the fearless daring of the sea-gulls, as they soared slowly above our heads – there seemed something so suggestive of peace and tranquillity, that it struck us as profanation to disturb it.

As we gained the top and looked around us, our astonishment became even greater. A long succession of low hills, covered with tall ferns or heath, stretched away on every side; not a house, nor a hovel, nor a living thing to be seen. Had the country been one uninhabited since the Creation, it could not have presented an aspect of more thorough desolation! No road-track, nor even a footpath, led through the dreary waste before us, on which, to all seeming, the foot of man had never fallen. And as we stood for some moments, uncertain which way to turn, a sense of the ridiculous suddenly burst upon the party, and we all broke into a hearty roar of laughter.

‘I little thought,’ cried Charost, ‘that I should ever emulate “La Perouse,” but it strikes me that I am destined to become a great discoverer.’

‘How so, colonel?’ asked his aide-de-camp.

‘Why, it is quite clear that this same island is uninhabited; and if it be all like this, I own I’m scarcely surprised at it.’

‘Still, there must be a town not far off, and the residence of that bishop we heard of this morning.’

A half-incredulous shrug of the shoulders was all his reply, as he sauntered along with his hands behind his back, apparently lost in thought; while we, as if instinctively partaking of his gloom, followed him in total silence.

‘Do you know, gentlemen, what I’m thinking?’ said he, stopping suddenly and facing about. ‘My notion is, that the best thing to do here would be to plant our tricolour, proclaim the land a colony of France, and take to our boats again.’

This speech, delivered with an air of great gravity, imposed upon us for an instant; but the moment after, the speaker breaking into a hearty laugh, we all joined him, as much amused by the strangeness of our situation, as by anything in his remark.

‘We never could bring our guns through a soil like this, colonel,’ said the aide-de-camp, as he struck his heel into the soft and clayey surface.

‘If we could ever land them at all!’ muttered he, half aloud; then added, ‘But for what object should we? Believe me, gentlemen, if we are to have a campaign here, bows and arrows are the true weapons.’

‘Ah! what do I see yonder?’ cried the aide-de-camp; ‘are not those sheep feeding in that little glen?’

‘Yes,’ cried I, ‘and a man herding them, too. See, the fellow has caught sight of us, and he’s off as fast as his legs can carry him.’ And so was it: the man had no sooner seen us than he sprang to his feet and hurried down the mountain at full speed.

Our first impulse was to follow and give him chase, and even without a word we all started off in pursuit; but we soon saw how fruitless would be the attempt, for, even independent of the start he had got of us, the peasant’s speed was more than the double of our own.

‘No matter,’ said the colonel, ‘if we have lost the shepherd we have at least gained the sheep, and so I recommend you to secure mutton for dinner to-morrow.’

With this piece of advice, down the hill he darted as hard as he could; Briolle, the aide-de-camp, and myself following at our best pace. We were reckoning without our host, however, for the animals, after one stupid stare at us, set off in a scamper that soon showed their mountain breeding, keeping all together like a pack of hounds, and really not very inferior in the speed they displayed.

A little gorge led between the hills, and through this they rushed madly, and with a clatter like a charge of cavalry. Excited by the chase, and emulous each to outrun the other, the colonel threw off his shako, and Briolle his sword, in the ardour of pursuit. We now gained on them rapidly, and though, from a winding in the glen, they had momentarily got out of sight, we knew that we were close upon them. I was about thirty paces in advance of my comrades, when, on turning an angle of the gorge, I found myself directly in front of a group of mud hovels, near which were standing about a dozen ragged, miserable-looking men, armed with pitchforks and scythes, while in the rear stood the sheep, blowing and panting from the chase.

I came to a dead stop; and although I would have given worlds to have had my comrades at my side, I never once looked back to see if they were coming; but, putting a bold face on the matter, called out the only few words I knew of Irish, ‘Go de-mat ha tu.’

The peasants looked at each other; and whether it was my accent, my impudence, or my strange dress and appearance, or altogether, I cannot say, but after a few seconds’ pause they burst out into a roar of laughter, in the midst of which my two comrades came up.

‘We saw the sheep feeding on the hills yonder,’ said I, recovering self-possession, ‘and guessed that by giving them chase they’d lead us to some inhabited spot. What is this place called?’

‘Shindrennin,’ said a man who seemed to be the chief of the party; ‘and, if I might make so bould, who are you, yourselves?’

‘French officers; this is my colonel,’ said I, pointing to Charost, who was wiping his forehead and face after his late exertion.

The information, far from producing the electric effect of pleasure I had anticipated, was received with a coldness almost amounting to fear, and they spoke eagerly together for some minutes in Irish.

‘Our allies evidently don’t like the look of us,’ said Charost, laughing;’ and if the truth must be told, I own the disappointment is mutual.’

‘Tis too late you come, sir,’ said the peasant, addressing the colonel, while he removed his hat, and assumed an air of respectful deference. ‘‘Tis all over with poor Ireland this time.’

‘Tell him,’ said Charost, to whom I translated the speech, ‘that it’s never too late to assert a good cause; that we have got arms for twenty thousand, if they have but hands and hearts to use them. Tell him that a French army is now lying in that bay yonder, ready and able to accomplish the independence of Ireland.’

I delivered my speech as pompously as it was briefed to me; and although I was listened to in silence, and respectfully, it was plain my words carried little or no conviction with them. Not caring to waste more of our time in such discourse, I now inquired about the country – in what directions lay the highroads, and the relative situations of the towns of Killala, Gastlebar, and Ballina, the only places of comparative importance in the neighbourhood. I next asked about the landing-places, and learned that a small fishing-harbour existed, not more than half a mile from the spot where we had landed, from which a little country road lay to the village of Palmerstown. As to the means of transporting baggage, guns, and ammunition, there were few horses to be had, but with money we might get all we wanted; indeed, the peasants constantly referred to this means of success, even to asking ‘What the French would give a man that was to join them?’ If I did not translate the demand with fidelity to my colonel, it was really that a sense of shame prevented me. My whole heart was in the cause; and I could not endure the thought of its being degraded in this way. It was growing duskish, and the colonel proposed that the peasant should show us the way to the fishing-harbour he spoke of, while some other of the party might go round to our boat, and direct them to follow us thither. The arrangement was soon made, and we all sauntered down towards the shore, chatting over the state of the country, and the chances of a successful rising. From the specimen before me, I was not disposed to be over sanguine about the peasantry. The man was evidently disaffected towards England. He bore her neither good-will nor love, but his fears were greater than all else. He had never heard of anything but failure in all attempts against her, and he could not believe in any other result. Even the aid and alliance of France inspired no other feeling than distrust, for he said more than once, ‘Sure what can harm yez? Haven’t ye yer ships beyant, to take yez away, if things goes bad?’

I was heartily glad that Colonel Charost knew so little English, that the greater part of the peasant’s conversation was unintelligible to him, since, from the first, he had always spoken of the expedition in terms of disparagement; and certainly what we were now to hear was not of a nature to controvert the prediction.

In our ignorance as to the habits and modes of thought of the people, we were much surprised at the greater interest the peasant betrayed when asking us about France and her prospects, than when the conversation concerned his own country. It appeared as though, in the one case, distance gave grandeur and dimensions to all his conceptions, while familiarity with home scenes and native politics had robbed them of all their illusions. He knew well that there were plenty of hardships, abundance of evils, to deplore in Ireland: rents were high, taxes and tithes oppressive, agents were severe, bailiffs were cruel Social wrongs he could discuss for hours, but of political woes, the only ones we could be expected to relieve or care for, he really knew nothing. ‘‘Tis true,’ he repeated, ‘that what my honour said was all right, Ireland was badly treated,’ and so on; ‘liberty was an elegant thing if a body had it,’ and such like; but there ended his patriotism.

Accustomed for many a day to the habits of a people where all were politicians, where the rights of man and the grand principles of equality and self-government were everlastingly under discussion, I was, I confess it, sorely disappointed at this worse than apathy.

‘Will they fight? – ask him that,’ said Gharost, to whom I had been conveying a rather rose-coloured version of my friend’s talk.

‘Oh, begorra! we ‘ll fight sure enough!’ said he, with a half-dogged scowl beneath his brows.

‘What number of them may we reckon on in the neighbourhood?’ repeated the colonel.

‘‘Tis mighty hard to say; many of the boys were gone over to England for the harvest; some were away to the counties inland, others were working on the roads; but if they knew, sure they ‘d be soon back again.’

‘Might they calculate on a thousand stout, effective men?’ asked Charost.

‘Ay, twenty, if they were at home,’ said the peasant, less a liar by intention than from the vague and careless disregard of truth so common in all their own intercourse with each other.

I must own that the degree of credit we reposed in the worthy man’s information was considerably influenced by the state of facts before us, inasmuch as that the ‘elegant, fine harbour’ he had so gloriously described – ‘the beautiful road’ – ‘the neat little quay’ to land upon, and the other advantages of the spot, all turned out to be most grievous disappointments. That the people were not of our own mind on these matters, was plain enough from the looks of astonishment our discontent provoked; and now a lively discussion ensued on the relative merits of various bays, creeks, and inlets along the coast, each of which, with some unpronounceable name or other, was seen to have a special advocate in its favour, till at last the colonel lost all patience, and jumping into the boat, ordered the men to push off for the frigate.