The O'Donoghue: Tale of Ireland Fifty Years Ago

Kate happened on this occasion to look more than usually handsome. With a coquetry it is not necessary to explain, she had dressed herself most becomingly, and in that style which distinctly marks a French woman – the only time in his life Mark had ever remarked her costume was when she wore this dress, and she had not forgotten the criticism.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” said Kate, with her slightly foreign accent; “pray sit down again – well, then, I must leave you, if you won’t – every one let’s me have my own way – is it not true, Mrs. Branagan?”

Mrs. Branagan’s reply was quite lost in the general chorus of the others, as she said —

“And why wouldn’t you, God bless you for a raal beauty!” while a powerful looking fellow, with dark beard and whiskers, struck his stick violently against the ground, and cried out in his enthusiasm —

“Let me see the man that would say agin it – that’s all.”

Kate smiled at the speaker, not all ungrateful for such rude chivalry, and went on – “I wanted to hear if you have any news from the town – was there any stir among the troops, or anything extraordinary going forward there?”

Each looked at the other as if unwilling to take the reply upon himself, when at last an old man, with a head as white as snow, answered —

“Yes, my lady, the soldiers is all under arms since nine o’clock, then came news that the French was in the Bay, and the army was sent for to Cork.”

“No, ‘tis Limerick I heerd say,” cried another.

“Limerick indeed! sorra bit, ‘tis from Dublin they’re comin wid cannons; but it’s no use, for the French is sailed off again as quick as they come.”

“The French fleet gone! – left the Bay – surely you must mistake,” said Kate, eagerly.

“Faix, I won’t be sure, my lady; but here’s Tom McCarthy seen them going away, a little after twelve o’clock.”

The man thus appealed to, seemed in nowise satisfied with the allusions to him, and threw a quick distrustful look around, as though far from feeling content with the party before whom he should explain, a feeling that increased considerably as every eye was now turned towards him.

Kate, with a ready tact that never failed her, saw his difficulty, and approaching close to where he stood, said, in a voice only audible by himself —

“Tell me what you saw in the Bay, do not have any fear of me.”

M’Carthy, who was dressed in the coarse blue jacket of a fisherman! possessed that sharp intelligence so often found among those of his calling, and seemed at once to have his mind relieved by this mark of confidence.

“I was in the boat, my lady,” said he, “that rowed Master Mark out to the French frigate, and waited for him alongside to bring him back. He was more than an hour on board talking with the officers, sometimes down in the cabin, and more times up on the quarter-deck, where there was a fierce-looking man, with a blue uniform, lying on a white skin – a white bear, Master Mark tould me it was. The officer was wounded in the leg before he left France, and the sea voyage made it bad again, but, for all that, he laughed and joked away like the others.”

“And they were laughing then, and in good spirits?” said Kate.

“‘Tis that you may call it. I never heerd such pleasant gentlemen before, and the sailors too was just the same – sorra bit would sarve them, but making us drink a bottle of rum apiece, for luck, I suppose – devil a one had a sorrowful face on him but Master Mark, whatever was the matter with him, he wouldn’ eat anything either, and the only glass of wine he drank, you’d think it was poison, the face he made at it – more by token he flung the glass overboard when he finished it. And to be sure the Frenchmen weren’t in fault, they treated him like a brother – one would be shaking hands wid him – another wid his arm round his shoulders, and” – here Tom blushed and stammered, and at last stopped dead short.

“Well, go on, what were you going to say?”

“Faix, I’m ashamed then – but ‘tis true enough – saving your presence, I saw two of them kiss him.”

Kate could not help laughing at Tom’s astonishment at this specimen of French greeting – while for the first time, perhaps, did the feeling of the peasant occur to herself, and the practice she had often witnessed abroad, without remark, became suddenly repugnant to her delicacy.

“And did Master Mark come back alone,” asked she, after a minute’s hesitation.

“No, my lady, there was a little dark man wid gould epaulettes, and a sword on him, that came too. I heerd them call him, Mr. Morris, but sorra word of English or Irish he had.”

“And where did they land, and which way did they take afterwards?”

“I put them ashore at Glengariff, and they had horses there to take them up the country. I heerd they were going first to Father Rourke’s in the glen.”

“And then, after that?”

“Sorra a one of me knows. I never set eyes on them since – I was trying to get a warp out for one of the French ships, for the anchors was dragging – they came to the wrong side of the island, and got into the north channel, and that was the reason they had to cut their cables and stand out to sea till the gale is over, but there’s not much chance of that for some time.”

Kate did not speak for several minutes, and at length said —

“The people, tell me of them, were they in great numbers along the coast, were there a great many of them with Mr. Mark when he came down to the shore?”

“I’ll tell you no He, my lady; there was not – there was some boys from Castletown, and down thereabouts, but the O’Learys and the Sullivans, the McCarthys – my own people – and the Neals wasn’t there; and sure enough it was no wonder if Master Mark was angry, when he looked about and saw the fellows was following him. ‘Be off,’ says he, ‘away wid ye, ‘tis for pillage and robbery the likes of ye comes down here – if the men that should have heart and courage in the cause won’t come forward, I’ll never head ruffians like you to replace them.’ Them’s the words he said, and hard words they were.”

“Poor fellow,” said Kate, as she wiped away a tear from her eye, “none stand by him, not one, and why is this the case,” asked she, eagerly, “have the people grown faint-hearted – are there cowards amongst them?”

“There’s as bad,” said M’Carthy, in a low, cautious whisper – . “there’s traitors, that would rather earn blood money, than live honestly – there’s many a one among them scheming to catch Master Mark himself, and he is lucky if he escapes at last.”

“There’s horses now, coming up the road, and fast they’re coming too,” said one of the country people, and the quick clattering of a gallop could be heard along the plashy road.

Kate’s heart beat almost audibly, and she bounded from the spot, and up the stairs. The noise of the approaching horses came nearer, and at last stopped before the door.

“It is him – it is Mark,” said she to herself, in an ecstasy of delight, and with trembling fingers withdrew the heavy bolt, and undid the chain, while, with an effort of strength the emergency alone conferred, she threw wide the massive door, clasped and framed with iron.

“Oh, how I have watched for you,” exclaimed she, as a figure, dismounting hastily, advanced towards her, and the same instant the roice revealed Hemsworth, as he said —

“If I could think this greeting were indeed meant for me, Miss O’Donoghue, I should call this moment the happiest of my life.”

“I thought it was my cousin,” said Kate, as almost fainting, she fell back into a seat, “but you may have tidings of him, can you tell if he is safe?”

“I expected to have heard this intelligence from you,” said he, as recovering from the chagrin of his disappointment, he resumed his habitual deference of tone; “has he not returned?”

“No, we have not seen him, nor has the messenger yet come back. Herbert also is away, and we are here alone.”

As Hemsworth offered her his arm to return to the drawing-room, he endeavoured to reassure her on the score of Mark’s safety, while he hinted that the French, who that morning had entered Bantry Bay with eleven vessels, unprepared for the active reception his measures had provided, had set sail again, either to await the remainder of the fleet, or perhaps return to France; “I would not wish to throw blame on those whose misfortune is already heavy, but I must tell you, Miss O’Donoghue, that every step of this business has been marked by duplicity and cowardice. I, of course, need not say, that in either of these, your friends stand guiltless, but your cousin has been a dupe throughout; the dupe of every one who thought it worth his while to trick and deceive him – he believed himself in the confidence of the leaders of the expedition – they actually never heard of his name. He thought himself in a position of trust and influence – he is not recognized by any – unnoticed by his own party, and unacknowledged by the French, his only notoriety will be the equivocal one of martyrdom.”

Every word of this speech, uttered in a voice of sad, regretful meaning, as though the speaker were sorrowing over the mistaken opinions of a dear friend, cut deeply into Kate’s heart – she knew not well at the instant, whether she should not better have faced actual danger for her cousin, than have seen him thus deceived and played upon. Hemsworth saw the effect his words created, and went on —

“Would that the danger rested here, and that the fate of one rash, but high-spirited boy, was all that hung on the crisis” – as he spoke he threw a cautious look around the roomy apartment to see that they were, indeed, alone.

“Great Heaven! there is not surely worse than this in store for us,” cried Kate, in a voice of heartrending affliction.

“There is far worse, Miss O’Donoghue; the ruin that threatens is that of a whole house – a noble and honoured name – your uncle is unhappily no stranger to these mischievous intentions – I was slow to put faith in the assertion.”

“It is false – I know it is false,” said Kate, passionately – “My poor dear uncle, overwhelmed with many calamities, has borne up patiently and nobly, but of any participation in schemes of danger or enterprize he is incapable – think of his age – his infirmity.”

“I am aware of both, young lady, but I am also aware that for years past, his pecuniary difficulties have been such that he would hesitate at nothing which should promise the chance of extrication. Many have imagined like him, that even a temporary triumph over England would lead to some new settlement between the two countries, concessions of one kind or other, laws revoked and repealed, and confiscations withdrawn; nor were the expectations, perhaps, altogether unfounded. Little has ever been accorded to Ireland as a grace – much has been obtained by her by menace.”

“He never calculated on such an issue to the struggle, sir; depend upon it, no unworthy prospect of personal gain ever induced an O’Donoghue to adopt a cause like this. You have convinced me, now, that he is unconnected with this plot.”

“I sincerely wish my own convictions could follow yours, madam, but it is an ungrateful office I have undertaken. Would to heaven I knew how to discharge it more fittingly. To be plain, Miss O’Donoghue, the statute of high treason, which will involve the confiscation of your uncle’s estate, will, if measures be not speedily taken, rob you of your fortune; to prevent this —

“Stay, sir, I may save you some trouble on my account. I have no fortune, nor any claim upon my uncle’s estate.”

“Pardon me, young lady, but the circumstance of my position has made me acquainted with matters connected with your family; your claim extends to a very considerable, and a very valuable property.”

“Once more, sir, I must interrupt you – I have none.”

“If I dare contradict you I would say – ”

“Nay, nay, sir,” cried she, blushing, partly from shame, and partly from anger – “this must cease, I know not what right you have to press the avowal from me. The property you speak of is no longer mine; my uncle did me the honour to accept it from me, would that the gift could express the thousandth part of the love I bear him.”

“You gave over your claim to your uncle!” said Hemsworth, leaving a pause between every word of the sentence, while a look of malignant anger settled on his brow.

“Who dares to question me on such a subject,” said Kate, for the insulting expression so suddenly assumed by Hemsworth, roused all her indignation.

“Is this, then, really so,” said Hemsworth, who, so unaccustomed as he ever was to be overreached, felt all the poignancy of a deception in his disappointment.

Kate made no answer, but moved towards the door, while Hemsworth sprang forward before her, and placed his back against it.

“What means this, or how comes it, that you dare to treat me thus beneath my uncle’s roof?”

“One word only, Miss O’Donoghue,” said Hemsworth, with an effort to assume his habitual tone of deference; “May I ask was this transfer of property made legally and formally.”

“Sir,” said Kate, as drawing herself up, she stared full at him, without another word of reply.

“I see it all,” said Hemsworth, rapidly, and as if thinking, aloud. “This was the money that paid off Hickson – in this way the mortgage was redeemed, and the bond for two thousand also recovered – duped and cheated at every step. And so, madam,” – here he turned a look of insulting menace towards her – “I have been the fool in your hands all this time; and not content with thwarting my views, you have endeavoured to sap the source of my fortune. Yes, you need not affect ignorance; I know of Sir Archibald’s kind interference in my behalf: Sir Marmaduke Travers has withdrawn his agency from me; he might have paused to inquire where was the property from which he has removed me – how much of it owns him the master, or me. This was your uncle’s doing. I have it under his own hand, and the letter addressed to yourself.”

“And you dared, sir, to break the seal of my letter!”

“I did more, madam – I sent a copy of it to the Secretary of State, whose warrant I possess: the young officials of the Home Office will, doubtless, thank me for the amusement I have afforded them in its contents. The match-making talents of Sir Archy and his niece’s fascinations have, however, failed for once. The Guardsman seems to have got over his short-lived passion.”

“Stand back, sir, and let me pass.”

“One moment more, madam; if I have suffered some injuries from your family, I have at least one debt of gratitude to acknowledge – but for your note, written by your own hand, I should scarcely have succeeded in capturing a rebel, whose treason will not long await its penalty – but for your able assistance, your cousin might have escaped – indeed, it may be worth while to inform you that Sir Archibald had good hopes of obtaining his pardon, a circumstance which will, doubtless, be satisfactory to the surviving members of the family.”

“My cousin Mark taken!” cried Kate, as she clasped her hands to either side of her head in a paroxysm of agony.

“Taken, and on his way to Dublin, under a military escort; on Wednesday he will be tried by court-martial: I hope and trust on Thursday – but perhaps it would be cruel to tell you of Thursday’s proceedings.”

Kate reeled, and endeavoured to support herself by a chair; but a sickness like death crept over her, and with a faint low sigh she sank lifeless on the floor; at the same instant the door was burst open by a tremendous effort, and Hemsworth sent forward into the room. It was Mark, splashed and dripping, his face flushed with violent exertion, that entered. With one glance at Hemsworth, and another at the fainting form before him, he seemed to divine all.

“Our day of reckoning is come at last, sir,” said he, in a low distinct voice; “it has been somewhat tardy, however.”

“If you have any claim on me, Mr. O’Donoghue,” said Hemsworth, with a forced calmness, “I am ready, at the proper time and place, to offer you every satisfaction.”

“That time and place is here, sir,” said Mark, as without the slightest sign of passion he bolted the door, and drew a heavy table across it. “Here, in this room, from which both of us shall never walk forth alive.”

“Take care, sir, what you do; I am armed,” said Hemsworth, as he threw a quick glance around, to see if any hope of escape should present itself.

“And so am I,” said Mark, coolly, who still busied himself in removing every object from the middle of the room, while gently lifting Kate, he laid her, still unconscious as she was, upon a sofa.

“We have neither of us much time to throw away, I fancy,” said he, with a bitter laugh; “choose your place now, sir, and fire when you please – mine is yonder;” and as he spoke he turned half round to walk towards the spot indicated. With the quickness of lightning, Hemsworth seized the moment, and drawing a pistol from his bosom, aimed and fired; the ball grazed Mark’s shoulder, and made him stagger forwards; but in a second he recovered himself: the casualty saved him; for while falling, a second bullet whizzed after the first. With a cry of vengeance that made the old walls ring again, Mark sprang at him; it was the deadly leap of a tiger on his prey; the impulse was such, that as he caught him in his arms, both rolled over together on the floor. The struggle was but brief; Mark, superior in youth, strength, and activity, soon got him under, and with his knee upon his chest, pinioned him down to the ground. There was a pause, the only sounds being the quick-drawn breathings of both, as with looks of hate they gazed at each other; – while with one hand he grasped Hemsworth by the throat, with the other he felt for his pistol: slowly he drew forth the weapon, and cocked it; then laying the cold muzzle upon the other’s forehead, he pressed the trigger; the cock snapped, but the priming burned. He flung the weapon from him in passion, and drew another; but ere he could adjust it, Hemsworth ceased to breathe; a cold livid colour spread over his features, and a clammy sweat bedewed his forehead – he had fainted.

Mark dropped the uplifted weapon, as he muttered – “It was a fitting fate – the death of a coward.” Then standing up, he approached the window that overlooked the road, and threw it wide open. The storm still blew with all its force, and in a second extinguished the lights in the room, leaving all in darkness. With cautious steps, Mark moved towards where the body lay, and lifting it in his powerful arms, carried it towards the window; with one vigorous effort he hurled the lifeless form from him, and the heavy mass was heard as it fell crashing among the brushwood that covered the precipice.

Mark gazed for a few seconds into the black abyss beneath, and then withdrawing, he closed the window, and barred it. By the aid of his pistol he struck a light, and relighted the candles, and then approached the sofa where Kate lay.

“Have I been ill, Mark?” said she, as she touched his band – “have I been ill, and dreaming a horrid dream? I thought Hems-worth was here, and that – that – but he was here – I know it now – you met him here. Oh, Mark, dearest Mark, what has happened – where is he?”

Mark pointed to the window, but never spoke.

“Is he killed – did you kill him?” cried she, as her eyes grew wild with the expression of terror. “Oh, merciful heaven, who has visited us so heavily, why will reason remain when madness would be mercy! You have killed him!”

“He did not die by my hand, though he well deserved to have done so,” said Mark, sternly; “but are our hours to be so many now, that we can waste them on such a theme. The French are in the Bay – at least a portion of the fleet – sixteen vessels, nine of which are ships of the line, are holding by their anchors beneath our cliffs; twenty more are at sea, or wrecked or captured by the English, for who can tell the extent of our disasters. All is against us; but against all we might succeed, if we had not traitors amongst us.”

“The Government is aware of the plot, Mark – knows every man engaged in it, and is fully prepared to meet your advance.”

“Such is the rumour; but there’s no truth in it: the people hold back, and give this as the excuse for their cowardice. The priests will not harangue them, and the panic spreads every moment wider, of treachery and betrayal. Lanty Lawler, the fellow who should have supplied horses for the artillery, is an informer; so are half the others. There’s nothing for it but a bold plunge – something to put every neck in the halter, and then will come the spirit to meet all difficulties – so thinks Tone, and he’s a noble-hearted fellow, and ready for any peril.”

A loud knocking at the door of the tower now broke in upon the converse, and Kerry O’Leary called aloud —

“Open the door, Master Mark; be quick, the soldiers is comin’.”

Mark speedily withdrew the heavy table from its place across the door, and opened it. Kerry, his clothes reduced to rags, and his face and hands bleeding, stood before him, terror in every feature. “They took me prisoner at the gate there, but I contrived to slip away, and took to the mountain, and a fine chase they gave me for the last hour – ”

“But the soldiers – where are they, and in what place?”

“There’s two troops of horse about a mile below Mary’s in the glen, waiting for Hemsworth’s orders to advance.”

“Go on,” said Mark, with a stern smile; “they’re not likely to move for some time.”

“I do not know that, then,” said Kerry, “for I saw Hemsworth pass up the road, with two men holding him on his horse; he seemed to have got a bad fall, for the blood was running down his face, and his cheeks was as pale as a corpse.”

“You saw Hemsworth, and he was living!”

“Faix he was, and no doubt of it; there never was the man in these parts could curse and swear the way he does, barrin’ himself, and I heerd him blasphaming away as he went along what he wouldn’t do down here.”

“Oh, fly, Mark; don’t lose a second, for heaven’s sake. – ”

“And leave you here to the mercy of this scoundrel and his bloodhounds.”

“No, no; we are safe here; he dare not wreak his vengeance on us; but you are his greatest enemy.”

“‘Tis thrue she’s sayin’,” cried Kerry, eagerly; “I heerd Hemsworth say to Sam Wylie, that Captain Travers is up at Macroom with his regiment, and was coming down to guard the castle here; but that there was plenty of time to take you before he came, and there was a tree standing to hang you, besides.”

“I leave you, then, in safe keeping,” said Mark, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice; “one word of good-bye to my father, and I am gone.”

It was some moments before the O’Donoghue could rally from the deep stupor grief and anxiety induced, and recognize Mark as he leaned over his chair; and then as he felt his hands and clutched his arms, he seemed endeavouring to persuade himself that it was not some passing dream he laboured under.

“The pursuit is too hot, father,” said Mark, after two or three efforts to arouse his mind to what was going forward, “and I must be off. Hemsworth has a strong party in the glen; but fear nothing; he cannot molest you; and, besides, his time is brief now.”

“And will you leave me, Mark; will you desert me now?” said the old man, with all the selfishness of age, forgetting every thing, save his own feelings.

“Not if you wish me to remain; if you think there is more honour in my being taken prisoner under your own roof, I’m just as willing.”

“Oh, no, uncle,” cried Kate, rushing forward; “do not keep him; say good-bye, and speedily; the dragoons are advancing already.”

“There goes a shot! that was a cannon,” cried Mark, in ecstasy, as he lifted his hand to catch the sound – “another! another! they’re landing – they’re coming – you’ll see me again before day-break, father,” said he, embracing the old man tenderly, while he turned to bid Kate adieu. She stood with her hands before her eyes, her bosom heaving violently. Mark gazed at her for a moment, and pressing his lips to her cheek, merely whispered one word, and was gone.

Hemsworth’s horse, which Kerry had found in the stable, stood ready awaiting Mark, and without a moment’s loss of time, he sprung on the animal’s back, and dashed down the road at full speed. Meanwhile the loud firing of cannon continued at intervals towards the Bay, and more than one rocket was seen to throw its bright glare through the blackness of the night.

“They’re landing at last,” cried Mark, as every report set his heart bounding with eager hope, and forward he rode through the storm.