Читать книгу The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'Toole - W. H. Maxwell - Страница 15

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“It was a wild and strange retreat

As ere was trod by outlaws’ feet.”—Scott.

As I hail no ambition to make a Turkish exit, and cause a vacancy in the Twenty-first Fusileers, to use a bull, “even before it was filled,” I submitted with Christian fortitude, and held my peace accordingly. Unresisted, the captors bore me across a shingly beach; for I heard the loose stones rattle as their hurried steps displaced them. In a few minutes they reached a boat, and bundled me in with scanty ceremony, as “honest Jack” was ejected into Datchet Mead. Directly, several men jumped across the thwarts—the keel grated on the gravel—the oars fell rapidly on the water—and away we went, Heaven knew whither!

On leaving the beach, my captors appeared to consider a longer silence unnecessary; for they laughed and jested with each other, although what seemed marvellous good fun to them, was death to me.

“Good night, Tom,”—said a pleasant gentleman from the shore,—“God bless the venture! sure it’s the first ye carried of the kind!”

“Don’t,” observed a second, “make mistakes; men are not malt; and be sure ye don’t give the contents of yonder sack a steeping.”

“I have done worse however, before now,” returned a rough voice beside me, “and on my poor conscience, I think a few stones in the bottom of the bag would make all right, and save both time and trouble.”

Supposing it no harm to share a conversation in which I was so essentially concerned, I muttered an indistinct dissent.

“What’s that he’s mumbling about?” inquired a person in the boat’s bow.

“And what’s that to you?” was politely responded by my next neighbour, as he applied knuckles, hard as ebony, to my ribs, I presume to enforce his admonition. “Badda-hurst, * or I’ll slip you across the gunnel before you have time to bless yourself. Pull, will ye? Hurry to the island; for before this time I should have been half way to Carrick Beg, instead of ferrying blackguard gaugers to Innisteagles.”

* Hold your tongue.

Ferrying blackguard gaugers! “What did the fellow mean? It was a singular observation, and I ventured to remark it.

“What—muttering again!” replied the voice. “Can you swim, friend?”

I managed to answer, that “I had never tried it, tied neck and heels together.”

“Then by ———,” rejoined my agreeable companion, with a second application of his fist, “if you open your lips before we part company, over you go!”

There was no mistaking him. We were on a deep lake, and I had a determined gentleman to deal with; so I resolved accordingly to remain still as a mouse, and preserve a dignified silence.

I suspect that my decision was a wise one. From broken observations which I overheard, I soon found that the voyage was about to terminate. I felt in mortal tribulation. Suspense, however, was quickly ended. The keel grated on the sand—strange voices welcomed my guard of honour, and told that my island was not, “like Crusoe’s,” uninhabited. The sack being lifted out and laid upon the sward, a parting glass was emptied to my better health amidst uproarious peals of merriment. Presently, the parties bade each other good night; and those who had brought me re-embarked, rowed merrily away, and left me in a pleasant uncertainty on a very important point, and that was whether I should be sunk or smothered.

And yet, from the jocular demeanour of the islanders and the immediate departure of my abductors, I felt half assured that no truculent design upon my life was meditated after all. This was consolatory, certainly; although an interrupted journey,—imprisonment in a sack,—a lost mare, and a despoiled portmanteau,—all these were bad enough. Short space for sombre communings was allowed. Two pair of lusty arms lifted me from the ground, bore me through a narrow and difficult pass, placed me on my legs, and untied the bag, when down dropped the canvass,—and when I could see distinctly, a strange scene presented itself.

I had felt a glow of increasing heat, and could perceive a stream of light strengthen gradually as we penetrated the thick brush-wood. At first, dazzled by the blaze, objects were more like a confused vision than reality; but presently my eyes became accustomed to the glare, and I found myself surrounded by several huge fires, at which nearly a score of men were busily engaged in illicit distillation. In my mountain walks, I had frequently discovered in some secluded valley a smuggler engaged in this lawless vocation; but the hovel and apparatus were so slightly constructed and so easily removed, that at the first intimation of danger the still was carried off, the fire extinguished, the sheeling torn down, and nothing left but a heap of sods and rubbish to console the gauger on his arrival, by proving that his information had been most correct, and the distillers far too watchful. But here, every thing was constructed on a permanent and extensive scale, which evinced a perfect feeling of security, or the determination, at all risks, of continuing this lawless and demoralizing trade. On furnaces of solid masonry three large stills were working,—numerous wooden vessels were filled with potale,—and sacks of malt and barley, kegs containing spirits, and an abundant supply of peat-fuel, everywhere met the eye. Contiguous to the fires, sundry hovels were erected; the walls of turf, and roofs of heather—designed, it would appear, for the accommodation of a number of swine and their proprietors; and both, in point of comfort, seemed to be on a precise equality. The brute and the biped were indeed happily associated; for the ragged clothes, haggard looks, bleared eyes, and that half-drunken stupidity, which an endless tasting of ardent spirits always produces, showed, as they flitted back and forward in the red and lurid atmosphere, a group of beings that might be safely classed as low even in the lowest grade of civilized society.

My supporters left me, and retired to a cabin apart from the other hovels; while I underwent a careless examination by some swart figures, who occasionally passed me bearing turf to the furnaces. Relieved from a most annoying species of restraint, I felt little apprehension for the future, although the cause for which I had been kidnapped remained as much a mystery as ever. In a few minutes, a man tapped me on the shoulder, and bade me “follow and fear nothing.” I obeyed. He led me to the retired hut whither my quondam friends had gone before; and there I found them quite at their ease, refreshing themselves most liberally after their successful exertions in my arrest and deportation.

It was a rude, but not uncomfortable hovel; cribs and sleeping-places occupying one end, and a fire of charred turf blazing in the other. In the centre stood a rough bench, on which were spread plates of the coarsest delft, an earthen greybeard containing undiluted whisky, a jug of water, and a couple of horn drinking cups; while a tallow candle, stuck in an iron trivet, lighted this uninviting board.

Other objects, and of a very different description, met the eye. In a remote corner of the cabin a score of rusted firelocks were loosely piled; and, on the couples of the rafters, sundry fishing-rods and gaffs, a draft-net, and an eel-spear, were deposited. All indicated a lawless community and wild existence; while a forbidding-looking hag, broiling steaks upon the coals,—which operation a rough and brindled lurcher was contemplating with fixed attention,—completed a strange, but interesting picture of savage life.

“Are you hungry?” inquired one of my abductors, with tolerable civility.

“Not particularly,” I replied; “confinement in a sack does not generally improve the appetite.”

“Were you hurt by the fall?”

“Not much; although I fancy it would have been to you a matter of small consideration whether I broke my neck or scratched my finger.”

“Why, then,” responded the second ruffian; “upon my soul, I should have regretted it; for, to give the devil his due, you took the brook and bridge in sporting style. She’s a sweet mare, that. There was a day I could have ridden her to fortune. I began life, sir, a whipper to Lord Longford.”

“Then, friend, I must in candour tell you, that you have not changed for the better.”

“I fear I have not”—and the fellow sighed heavily.

“But, may I inquire, wherefore I am deprived of liberty, after having been waylaid, robbed, and nearly murdered?”

The whipper shook his head, while his companion roughly desired me to ask no impertinent questions; then, pointing to the table, on which the hag had placed a quantity of broiled mutton—apparently sufficient for a dozen persons instead of three—he added, in a more encouraging tone, “Take a seat, neighbour; there are few in our trade would treat a gauger so civilly.”

“What do you mean?” I exclaimed. “Fellow, I am no gauger.”

“And pray what do you call yourself?” he added, with a smile.

“An officer.”

“Well, it’s all the same—a gauger and a revenue officer are brothers’ children.”

“I am not in the revenue, but the army—I am a lieutenant in the Twenty-first Fusileers.”

“The devil you are!” ejaculated the whipper, with marked surprise. “Pray, sir, are you not Mr. Parker?”

“No, my name is O’Halloran.”

“Of what family?” said the other ruffian.

“The family of Kilcullen.”

“Hell and furies!” exclaimed both together. “What is the meaning of all this? I fancy we are in the centre of a hobble. Are you, sir, son of Colonel O’Halloran?”

“I am.”

“How many arms has he?” asked the keeper, sharply.

“But one—the left he lost in Holland.”

“Where were you going to?”

“Dublin.”

“Your business there?”

“To join my regiment.”

“And why take the mountain road?’’

“Simply, because it was the shortest.”

The quondam whipper gave a long and significant whistle; while his companion started up and left the hut abruptly, although the Leonora of the smugglers’ hovel called loudly after him, that “the steaks were cooling.”

He was but a brief space absent; and returned accompanied by an old grey-headed, blear-eyed, and besotted wretch, who instantly commenced a rigid scrutiny of my features. From the first moment, he expressed doubt and disappointment.

“What the devil!” said the ruffian who had brought him to examine me—“what are you shaking your head at, old boy?”

“Nothing; but you have bagged the wrong fox,” replied the stranger. “A nice job you have made of it, Murty Doolan!”

“Why, is’nt that Parker the gauger?”

“Parker, the devil!” rejoined the old man. “It’s as much Parker as it is my grandmother. Ye blind beggar, this chap has a straight eye, and Parker could squint through a bugle horn. He! he! he!” and he chuckled at his Own wit; “wait till somebody hears it. All, this comes of not taking my advice—this comes of employing strangers.”

“Well,” said the whipper, “there’s no help for spilt milk. What’s to be done, Gaffer? Can’t we grab the right one yet?”

“Ay, like enough, after Sullivan is hanged; for nothing can save him now. What will ye do with this lad?” and he nodded carelessly at me.

“Serve him, I suppose, as ye did —————” He paused and laughed, “He! he! he!”

“D——n ye, you ould doting scoundrel—how dare ye mention that business?”

“Phew—how hot ye are, Murty? Well, I must hurry back, or Phaddeein, the fool, will run the still too close, and spoil the whisky with the faints, as he did the last brewing. A nice job! That’s what I call taking the wrong sow by the ear. He! he! he!” and away the old man toddled to attend to his favourite employment.

“This is a cursed mistake,” remarked the ruffian companion of the whipper; “and when the master hears it, all of us will come to trouble. Come, my friend, let’s have some supper. Your seizure will cause more vexation than your neck is worth,—sit down,” and turning up a keg, he placed himself upon it, and attacked the broiled meat manfully. The whipper, following his example, settled himself upon an inverted cleeve, * pointing out a stool, the seat of honour, for my especial use. Undecided, whether to accept their hospitality and sup in villanous company for once, or hold myself aloof and eschew all fellowship with such scoundrels, I wearied the politeness of the whipper, who, unable to resist temptation longer, assailed the steaks with vigour—when a voice from without caused my companions to spring from their seats as if the food were poisoned. Next moment, a strange personage whom I had not seen before, strode in, fixed an earnest and suspicious glance on me—then, turning to my captors, exclaimed in a voice of thunder,

* The Irish name for a turf-basket.

“Villains! Who is this stranger?”

“The gauger, Parker,” both muttered in a tremulous tone.

“Ah, you precious scoundrels! Off with you! Take that woman away!”—and waving his hand, my guard of honour vanished at his bidding, attended by the alarmed cook, and leaving the unknown and myself tête-à-tête together.

Spurning the basket into the corner, which the whipper had respectfully abdicated on his entrance, the unknown walked to the fire with an air that bespoke authority, and which seemed to say, “This island’s mine.” To form any opinion of his face or figure was impossible; a loose-made frieze wrapping-coat concealed the one, while a high collar and slouched hat masked the other effectually. I could observe, however, that in height he was above the middle size, and that his eyes were dark and penetrating. Promptly he commenced a conversation; and his address was haughty, curt, and unceremonious.

“Pray, sir, who are you!”

“A stranger, brought here against his will; and wherefore—you, sir, can best tell.”

“Pray,” continued the unknown, “inform me under what circumstances you have been arrested?”

“And do you require any information on that subject?’’

“If I did not, I need not have asked you to detail them. Be quick, sir; it will save me time, and probably do you some service.”

I simply narrated the recent occurrences, from my meeting with the strangers at the lonely inn, until I had been enlarged upon the island. At different parts of my detail the muffled stranger exhibited symptoms of displeasure, and once or twice I could hear his teeth grind, as if he struggled to suppress a burst of passion.

“Well, sir,” said he, as I ended the narrative of my captivity, “you are a young soldier, it would appear; and this is an excellent earnest of the troublesome profession you have chosen. But, jesting apart, you have received much ill-usage, and been stupidly and unnecessarily deprived of liberty and effects. Both shall be restored; and all the satisfaction which circumstances will admit of, shall be offered in atonement for an unintentional aggression.”

He drew a whistle from his bosom; and its shrill summons was promptly answered by a smart, active lad, dressed in a sailor’s jacket and trowsers.

“Man the boat, and give the signal.” The sailor disappeared, and the unknown again addressed himself to me.

“Will you accompany me, and trust for your night’s entertainment to my good offices—or, would you rather remain and share that inviting-looking supper which by my visit, I fear, has not been much improved?”

I smiled, and assured him I had not the least ambition to cultivate a farther intimacy with those worthy gentlemen who had already taken too much trouble on my account.

“Come along, then—the boat is ready,” he said, as a piercing whistle was heard from the shore. “Follow me, closely; the path, though short, is difficult even in daylight to a stranger.”

Entering the copse and pushing through thick underwood, we reached a sandy beach, where a gig, with four rowers seated on the thwarts, was waiting. I was ceremoniously handed in and accommodated with a boat cloak; while the unknown took the yoke-ropes of the rudder, and desired the men to “give way.” The crew “flung from their oars the spray,” and broke the water with a regular stroke, which showed them to be practised pullers. Away we shot across the lake,—and, to my infinite satisfaction, left “the lonely isle,” which, even under an assurance that it possessed another Calypso, I should not have been tempted to revisit.

The night was dark and still, but through the haze the outline of the shore was seen ahead. I looked towards the island we were leaving; but, excepting a feeble glow of red still visible upon the dusky sky, there was nothing to betray its secret, or intimate that this solitary place had been chosen for “lawless intent.”

We neared the shore, and entered a narrow inlet that penetrated, as it seemed, by an opening in the hill side, into a wood of full-grown forest timber. Gradually the passage became more confined, until the oars had scarcely space to pull between the banks, while branches of oak and beech uniting above our heads, gave an additional darkness to the evening. In a few moments we reached its termination,—a small natural basin with a jetty of rough masonry. The steersman ran the boat alongside, landed on the wharf, and desired me to follow. I willingly obeyed, and the unknown led the way in silence, until we were beyond the hearing of the boatmen, when, suddenly stopping, he thus addressed me:

“I am not a resident here—this country is not my own, but although I cannot offer you hospitality myself, I shall yet manage to obtain it. Scarcely a gun-shot distance from this place there stands a solitary mansion-house, embosomed in this oak wood. That road will conduct you to it. Go, knock at the door, and ask for Mr. Hartley. Tell him simply that you are a stranger,—that you need food and lodging,—and, if I be not deceived, you will have little occasion to urge the request a second time. Of what has occurred, say little; of what may occur, say less. I shall have your mare attended to, and your property recovered and restored; ay, were its value ten times greater. We may meet under more agreeable circumstances than we did this evening. Farewell. Stay—one word more. You will probably be introduced to a lady at Mr. Hartley’s, some two or three years younger than yourself. She is an only daughter, educated in retirement, unacquainted with the world, and her existence, beyond the inmates of yonder mansion, actually unknown. Gentlemen of the sword, deal, I am told, extensively in gallantry. If this be so, reserve yours; for Mr. Hartley, as I have heard, wishes that his daughter shall continue ‘of worldly things in happy ignorance;’ and any pointed attention on your part to his ward, would prove any thing but acceptable. You understand me?”

“Indeed I do; and believe me, my good Mentor, that your friend’s fair daughter has little to fear from one who has had death in expectancy for two hours.”

“So much the better,” said the stranger. “Proceed; and you have but to tell your wants at the house, and have them attended to. You will however require a guide, for probably Mr. Hartley’s dogs might annoy you.”

He whistled; and the same boatman again obeyed the signal. To him he gave orders to attend me; bade me good night; and turned into an opening in the copse, leaving me with my guide, and with the pleasant necessity of presenting myself to Mr. Hartley,—an unexpected, an unbidden, and, not improbably, an unwelcome guest.