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4 The Blue Fox Tavern

Cork was first called Coves, a name that means a marshy terrain—Corroch in Gaelic. After a modest beginning as a village, Cork became a small town and is currently the capital of Munster and the third largest city in Ireland.

An industrial center of some importance, perhaps its greatest value is as a maritime city that is, thanks to the port at Queenstown—the old Coves—downstream from the river Lee. There are located the shipyards, stores, and factories. The port offers refueling, resupplying, and mooring to all ships, mainly those sailing ships for which the Lee is not deep enough.

Arriving late in Cork, the mentor and the scholarship recipients would not have the time to visit it nor the charming island that connects by two bridges to the two banks of the Lee, nor to stroll through the lovely gardens of the neighboring islands, nor to explore its annexes. That entire municipality comprises no less than eighty-nine thousand inhabitants—seventy-nine thousand for Cork and ten thousand for Queenstown.

But, on the evening of June 29, three individuals seated at the back of one of the rooms of the Blue Fox Tavern did not seem to be concerning themselves with such excursions or pleasant pastimes. Half-lost in a dark corner, they spoke quietly, before glasses that were emptied as often as they were filled. If only by their wild appearance or edgy attitude, an observer would have recognized men of the worst kind, rogues probably hunted by the police.¹ And what defiant and suspicious looks they cast on whoever came into this dubious inn, this poorly frequented tap² that was the Blue Fox!

Moreover, taverns were not scarce in this portside neighborhood, and individuals in search of such refuges would have had plenty of choices.

If Cork is an elegant city, such is not the case for Queenstown, a very busy city and one of the most important ports in Ireland. With an annual vessel movement of 4,500 ships measuring 1,200,000 tons, it is easy to imagine what kind of naval population pours in every day. Hence the numerous inns frequented by customers demanding little in terms of tranquility, cleanliness, and comfort. Foreign sailors rub shoulders with the natives. And this contact produces constant and brutal brawls that require the intervention of the police.

If that day the police had penetrated into the lower room of the Blue Fox, they would have been able to apprehend a certain gang of criminals, just escaped from the Queenstown prison hours ago.

Here are the circumstances:

Eight days earlier, a warship of the British navy was bringing back to Queenstown the pirate crew of the English three-masted schooner Halifax, recently captured in the waters of the Pacific. For six months, that ship had been the scourge of the western waters between the Solomon Islands, the New Hebrides, and the New Brittany archipelago. Their capture was going to put an end to the many incidences of robbery and piracy of which the English nationals were particularly the victims.

As a result of the crimes of which the law accused them—crimes confirmed as much by the facts as by witnesses’ accounts—an exemplary punishment would be pronounced against them. It was the death penalty, the gallows, at least for the most culpable leaders, the captain and the boatswain of the Halifax.

A conversation among three men.

The gang was comprised of ten individuals taken aboard the ship. The other seven who filled out the crew, after escaping in a small boat, had taken refuge on an island where it would be difficult to reach them. But at least the most dangerous of the men were in the hands of the English police and, while awaiting trial, they had been locked in Queens-town’s portside prison.

It was nearly impossible to imagine the limits of the audacity of Captain Harry Markel and of his right arm, boatswain John Carpenter. Taking advantage of certain circumstances, they had successfully escaped from the prison the evening before and had hidden since then in this Blue Fox Tavern, one of the most ill-reputed taps in the port. Immediately, police squads were called. The fugitives, capable of any crime, could not have left Cork or Queenstown, and searches were carried out in different parts of the two towns.

As a precaution, however, a certain number of agents guarded the area for several miles surrounding Cork Harbor. At the same time, the searches began and were to extend to all the inns and bars of the port-side neighborhood.

These are indeed real refuges, where bandits succeed too often in escaping police chases. Provided they see the color of money, the tavern-keepers take in whoever asks for asylum, without worrying about what these people are or where they come from.

Moreover, it must be mentioned, the sailors from the Halifax were from different ports in England and Scotland. None of them had ever lived in Ireland. No one would have recognized them either in Cork or in Queenstown—which made their capture unlikely. All the same, since the police had in hand descriptions of each of them, they felt very threatened. Of course, their intention was not to prolong such a perilous stay in town. They would take advantage of the first chance that would present itself to flee, either by disappearing into the countryside, or by going back out to sea.

Perhaps this opportunity was going to present itself, and under very favorable conditions, as will be judged by the conversation of the three seated men who occupied the darkest corner of the Blue Fox, where they could talk in private, away from any indiscreet ears.

Harry Markel was indeed the fitting leader of the gang. It was he who had not hesitated to turn the three-masted schooner Halifax, which he commanded on behalf of a Liverpool firm, into a pirate ship in the far Pacific seas.

Forty-five years old, of average height, robust build, and solid health, wild-looking, he did not back down from any cruelty. Much better educated than his companions, although he had started out as a common sailor, he had eventually ascended to the position of captain in the merchant navy. Knowing his trade exceptionally well, he could have made an honorable career for himself, had his terrible passions, a ferocious appetite for money,³ and the desire to be his own master not pushed him into a life of crime. Moreover, skillful in disguising his vices under the roughness of a seaman, and aided by a rather persistent good luck, he had never inspired any mistrust in the ship owners whose vessels he commanded.

The boatswain, John Carpenter, forty years old, shorter in height, of remarkable vigor, contrasted with Harry Markel by his deceitful appearance and hypocritical manners, his habit of flattering people, his instinctive treachery, and his remarkable power of pretense, which made him even more dangerous. All in all, he was not less greedy, not less cruel than his boss, and he exerted a detestable influence on him, which Harry Markel gladly endured.

As for the third individual seated at the same table, it was the cook of the Halifax, Ranyah Cogh, of Indo-Saxon origin. Completely devoted to the Captain as well as to the rest of his companions, like them he deserved to be hanged a hundred times for the crimes in which they had all taken part during the last three years in the Pacific.

These three men conversed quietly while drinking, and here is what John Carpenter was saying:

“We can’t stay here! We must leave the tavern and the town this very night. The police are on our heels. And tomorrow we’ll be caught!”

Harry Markel was not answering; but his opinion was also that he and his companions should flee Queenstown before sunrise.

“Will Corty is late!” observed Ranyah Cogh.

“Eh! give him time to get here!” answered the boatswain. “He knows we’re waiting for him at the Blue Fox and he’ll meet us here.”

“If we’re still here,” replied the cook, glancing anxiously at the door, “and if the cops don’t force us to scatter!”

“No matter,” said Harry Markel, “it’s better to stay here! If the police come to search this tavern like all the others in the area, we’ll not be surprised or caught. There’s an exit in the back, and we’ll take off at the slightest alarm.”

For a few moments the Captain and his two companions were content to empty their glasses, filled with whisky grogs. They were almost invisible in that part of the room, lit by only three gas lamps. From everywhere rose a brouhaha of voices, a noise of benches moving, and crude abuse called out to the tavern-keeper and his assistant who nevertheless hastened to serve their rough clientele. Then, here and there, violent discussions erupted, followed by an exchange of punches. This was what Harry Markel dreaded the most. This kind of uproar might attract the police on duty in the area, and these criminals would then run the risk of being recognized.

The conversation resuming among the three men, John Carpenter said:

“Let’s hope that Corty has been able to find a rowboat and secure it!”

“He must’ve done so by now,” answered the Captain. “In a port there’s always some small boat floating around at the end of a line. It’s not difficult to jump into, and Corty must have taken it to a safe place.”

“The other seven,” asked Ranyah Cogh, “will they have been able to join him?”

“Certainly,” replied Harry Markel, “since that was how it was planned. And they’ll stay to guard the boat until the moment we embark.”

“What worries me,” observed the cook, “is that we’ve been here for an hour, and that Corty isn’t here yet! Might they have caught him?”

“And what worries me even more,” admitted John Carpenter, “is to know whether or not the ship is still at its mooring.”

“It must still be there,” answered Henry Markel, “ready to weigh anchor!”

No doubt that the plan of the Captain and his companions was to leave the United Kingdom, where they were in such danger, and even Europe, in order to find safety on the other side of the ocean. But under what conditions did they hope to execute this plan, and how would they manage to gain access to a departing ship?

It seemed, according to what Henry Markel had just said, that they were planning to board a ship with the small boat stolen by their mate Corty. Did they have the intention of hiding on board, then?⁴

This presented a huge difficulty. What is possible for one or two men is not possible for ten. Had they sneaked into the slipway—assuming that they could have done it without being noticed—it would not be long before they would be discovered and their presence immediately reported to Queenstown.

Therefore, Henry Markel must have had in mind another more practical and more sure way to proceed. What? Had he been able to secure the complicity of a few of the sailors of the ship on the eve of their sailing off to sea? Were he and his companions certain, in advance, to find refuge there?

Moreover, in the conversation that was taking place among these three men, not one word had been uttered that would have given away their plan. Since they stopped talking as soon as one of the Blue Fox’s clients approached their table, they were not letting themselves be overheard.

In spite of this, after answering the boatswain, Harry Markel grew taciturn once again. He was reflecting on their dangerous situation, the end of which was rapidly approaching, whatever it would be. Sure of the information that had come to him, he continued:

“No, the ship can’t have gone. It is not supposed to cast off until tomorrow. Here’s the proof.”

Harry Markel drew from his pocket a piece of newspaper containing maritime news, and he read as follows:

“The Alert is still at its anchorage in Cork Harbor, in Farmar Cove, ready to cast off. Captain Paxton is only waiting for his passengers for the Antilles. The voyage, in fact, will not experience any delays, since the departure will not take place before the 30th of the current month. The laureates of the Antillean School will embark on that date and the Alert will immediately set sail, weather permitting.”

So it was the ship chartered by Mrs. Seymour! It was on board the Alert that Harry Markel and his companions had decided to flee! It was on this ship that they expected to get out to sea that very night, in order to escape the police search! But would circumstances facilitate the execution of their project? They could not count on accomplices among Captain Paxton’s men! Would they then attempt to take over the ship by surprise, then to get rid of its crew by force?

One thing is certain: anything could be expected from such determined criminals, for whom their very lives were at stake. There were ten of them, and no doubt the Alert did not hold a larger number of sailors on board. Under these conditions, the advantage would go to them.

Cork: Patrick Street (photo by W. Lawrence of Dublin).

After finishing his reading, Harry Markel put back into his pocket the piece of newspaper, which had fallen into his hand at the Queens-town prison, and he added:

“Today’s the 29th … It’s only tomorrow that the Alert is supposed to weigh anchor; tonight, it’ll still be at its anchorage in Farmar Cove, even if the passengers have already arrived, which isn’t probable, and we’ll only have to deal with the crew.”

It is important to note that, even if the students from the Antillean School were already on board, these bandits would not have renounced taking over the ship. There would be a little more blood spilled, that is all; they had had no compunctions about such violence during their recent campaigns of piracy.

Time was running out, and Corty, so impatiently awaited, had not appeared. In vain the trio examined the people who came through the Blue Fox’s door.

“Let’s hope that he hasn’t fallen into the hands of the police!” said Ranyah Cogh.

“If he’d been caught, we would’ve soon followed,” answered John Carpenter.

“Perhaps,” acknowledged Harry Markel, “but not because Corty would’ve given us up! Even if his head were hanging from the noose, he wouldn’t betray us.”

“That isn’t what I meant to say,” replied John Carpenter. “But it could be that he was recognized by the constables and followed as he was coming to the tavern! In that case, all the exits would be guarded, and it would be impossible to escape!”

Harry Markel did not answer, and there was a silence for a few minutes.

“Should one of us go out to meet him?” said the cook.

“I’ll take the risk, if you want,” proposed the boatswain.

“Go,” said Harry Markel, “but don’t go far. Corty could arrive at any moment. If you see the police in time, come back in quickly, and we’ll go out the back before they come into the room.”

“But then,” observed Ranyah Cogh, “Corty will no longer find us here.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” declared the Captain.

The situation was a most awkward one. After all, the important thing was not to get caught. If the Alert attempt failed, if Harry Markel, John Carpenter, and Ranyah Cogh did not succeed in joining their mates during the night, they would try to warn them. Maybe another opportunity would present itself? All things considered, they would only feel safe after having left Queenstown.

The boatswain emptied his glass one last time, glanced quickly around the room, slipped through the groups, and went out the door, which closed behind him.

At eight-thirty, it was not yet dark. Solstice was nearing and this was the time of the year with the longest days.

Nevertheless, the sky was rather overcast. Big heavy clouds, almost stationary, were accumulating along the horizon, the type of clouds that, in heavy heat, can bring violent storms. The night would be dark, the moon’s crescent having already disappeared toward the west.

John Carpenter had been gone for less than five minutes when the door to the Blue Fox opened and he reappeared.

A man was accompanying him, the one they awaited, a short sailor, vigorous and stocky, a beret pulled down to his eyes. The boatswain had met him fifty feet from there, as he was coming to the tavern, and the two had immediately come inside to join Harry Markel.

Corty looked to have just run a long and precipitous race. Beads of sweat were forming on his cheeks. Had he indeed been chased by the police, and had he succeeded in losing them?

John Carpenter, with a gesture, showed him the corner where Harry Markel and Ranyah Cogh were sitting. He came quickly to sit at the table, and in one gulp downed a glass of whiskey.

Obviously, Corty would have had trouble answering the Captain’s questions, and they had to allow him to catch his breath. In fact, he did not seem at all reassured and his eyes did not leave the outside door, as if he were expecting to see a squad of policemen appear there at any moment.

Finally, once he had regained his breath, Harry Markel told him quietly:

“Were you followed?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered.

“Are there any constables in the street?”

“Yes, about a dozen! They’re searching the inns and will soon be coming to the Blue Fox.”

“Let’s be off,” said the cook.

Harry Markel forced him to sit back down and said to Corty:

“Is everything ready?”

‘Everything.”

“Is the ship still at anchor?”

“Still, Harry; and, while crossing the dock, I heard that the passengers of the Alert had arrived in Queenstown.”

“All right,” answered Harry Markel, “we must be on board before them.” “How?” asked Ranyah Cogh.

“The others and I,” replied Corty, “were able to get hold of a rowboat.”

“Where is it?” said Harry Markel.

“Five hundred feet from the tavern, along the dock, down a landing.”

“And our mates?’

“They’re waiting for us. There isn’t a moment to lose.”

“Let’s leave,” answered Harry Markel.

The bill having already been paid, there was no reason to call the innkeeper. The four criminals could even leave the room without being noticed, in the middle of all the tumult.

At that moment, a great noise erupted outside, the noise of people shouting and shoving.

Like a cautious man who did not want to expose his clientele to any unpleasant surprises, the innkeeper cracked open the door and said:

“Beware! The constables!”

No doubt, several of the Blue Fox regulars did not want to come into contact with the police; there was a furious commotion. Three or four started toward the back exit.

One moment later, a dozen or so agents came into the tavern and closed the front door behind them.

As for Harry Markel and his three companions, they had succeeded in leaving the room without being noticed.