Annie O’Rourke bit her lip, then nodded. ‘There is a secret chamber. It will be a tight fit. Come. Hurry.’
They could hear voices outside, and the sound of the house being surrounded.
‘If I am found’ he said. ‘They will have you, for treason.’
‘Not us,’ Annie said. ‘We are two scatterbrained females fallen in love with your size. Now hurry.’
‘For God’s sake, Harry, hurry,’ Elizabeth begged.
He hesitated a last time, then allowed himself to be led to the stairs. As he did so, he looked out of a window again. The darkness was starting to brighten, as the moon peeped above the trees.
CHAPTER 12 – Ireland and the North Sea, 1779
The priest’s hole, as Annie had suggested, was hardly big enough for the normal man, being an extension of an upstairs chimney breast. This fire had fortunately not been set, as it was a warm August evening, and Harry was able to crawl through the hearth, and into an aperture just large enough for his shoulders, thence into a chamber four feet by four, and only six feet high. He could do little more than sit down with his feet drawn up, his sword propped against the wall beside him. Ventilation was provided by a single grating let into the ceiling, but he suspected this led into the chimney flue; he could not imagaine what it might be like in here, in winter, if the fire were lit.
‘Now remember,’ Annie said, she having accompanied him to open the chamber, while Elizabeth had remained downstairs to admit the soldiers and free the servants, gasping how the American monster had fled into the woods. ‘Do not make a sound, whatever may happen.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘I will be back as soon as I can, to see to your comfort.’
A somewhat enigmatic remark, he thought. But for the moment, he understood, he was entirely at her mercy.
In fact, once she had closed the aperture again, he heard absolutely nothing, and in the total darkness he had no idea of the time. He only knew that the moon had risen before he had entered this hole, and that John Paul would therefore have long given up waiting for him before he could hope to regain Tramore, even if the entire village might not by now be ranged against him.
His own lust had led him into this trap. On the other hand, he also knew where the fleet rendezvous was to be, off the Old Head of Kinsale, the following night. Kinsale was a hard ride from Tramore, to be sure, but it could be done, if he could once get out of here.
While as for having entrapped himself … he might well be accompanied by Elizabeth. There was a thought to savour. To inspire a man. He should be grieving, more than ever before in his life. And he could think only of the woman he loved. Because she loved him, despite all. As she had risked all, to save those members of his family that she could. Dublin! Nothing he could do, for the rest of his life, could replace the lives of Pa and Charlie … but thanks to Liz he could still salvage much from what was left. And for yourself, sheer paradise. That was too much of a dream come true, at this moment. Survival came first, and as time went by he knew something of the claustrophobic terror of total confinement, of supposing that should the two women have been arrested and carried off, he might sit in this blackness, forever.
Fingers, scrabbling at the brickwork. The wall moved, a few inches, while he tensed himself for disaster.
‘Are you all right?’ Annie whispered. The room behind her remained in darkness, and he could not see her.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Are they gone?’
‘No,’ She crawled through the opening, and pressed some concealed switch to bring the wall into place again. Now she was forced against him, sweating and anxious. ‘I have brought something to sustain you.’
She pressed an open bottle into his hands; a sniff told him it was red wine. And he certainly needed some sustenance, even liquid. He drank, deeply. ‘What is happening?’
‘The lobsters are being entertained, by Father, and Lizzie, and the servants, with tales of their derring do against you and an army of American cut-throats. And with wine and cheese, to be sure.’
‘Tom Pollock. Is he with them?’
‘No,’ she replied, quickly enough for him to reckon she might be telling the truth. ‘He’ll not return here, until he sees your body dangling from a scaffold. But he’ll never see that, Harry.’
‘Not unless you betray me,’ he said. ‘I’ll not do that, Harry McGann.’
‘I meant, because I love Elizabeth.’
‘And no one loves Annie,’ she said sadly. ‘I have long had to accept that fate. Yet may I know something of love. I hold your life in the palm of my hand, Harry McGann. You can never leave this chamber, without my aid. And having let you out, if I do, you can never escape Tramore, without my aid. Do I ask so much, in exchange for your life? A brief embrace. A brief acquaintance with your tremendous manhood? I have nothing more to seek, from life, Harry McGann.’ She took his hand and put it on her breast.
Almost he was tempted, less from any desire, or even any fear of what she threatened, but from sheer pity for this girl, who would know nothing but spinsterhood. But honour forbade him, honour which had nothing to do with Elizabeth or Bridget or Catherine Falloux. ‘I cannot,’ he said.
‘Am I then, so repulsive?’
‘You are very nearly beautiful to me, Annie, at this moment. But I am sworn to slay your brother, as he has caused the murder of my brother, and my father.’
She caught her breath. ‘You dare say that to me, who have you at my mercy?’
‘If I die with that undone, then I die a traitor to my family. And if I were to face him, having held you in my arms, then would I equally be a traitor, to you. If it pleases you to have me hanged, then you will save a great deal of grief to your family, to be sure. But you will also die with the blood of the McGanns on your hands.’
Her eyes gloomed at him in the darkness. ‘You are a strange fellow,’ she said. ‘Almost an admirable one. And what if my brother should kill you?’
‘That I would accept as an act of God’s judgement.’
‘And Elizabeth?’
‘I love her.’
‘Lucky girl,’ she said. ‘To be loved by such a man. I’ll not betray you, Harry McGann. I shall undoubtedly dream of you.’ She leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek, at the same time pressing the stone that opened the wall. ‘Sit tight. They will not stay much longer,as they caught your horse on the way here, and are sure you are on foot. Sit tight until I come back to you.’
He waited, while again the minutes became hours, it seemed, and his muscles became cramped, and he knew a tremendous thirst, increasing as he finished the bottle of wine, as well as considerable hunger; he had not eaten since noon of the previous day. But he last he heard the sound of the wall being moved again, and gazed at Elizabeth and Annie, crouching in the fireplace, holding candles.
‘I thought you had given them beds for the night,’ he remarked.
‘They left some time ago,’ Annie said. ‘They are scouring the countryside. But as you are a seaman, they are certain you are to be found close by the beach, and are concentrating their efforts down there. Thus remember, when you leave here, you must go inland until you are out of the district.’
‘And when do I leave here?’ Harry asked.
‘We had to wait until the squire and the servants had retired,’ Elizabeth explained.
‘The time?’ He crawled out and stretched; every muscle ached.
‘Just gone one in the morning.’
‘I need a horse, Annie. And some food and drink.’
‘The food and drink is waiting,’ Annie told him.
‘And while you eat, I will saddle two horses,’ Elizabeth said.
He frowned at her, as it registered for the first time that she had changed her clothes, for a riding habit. ‘Liz … this is impossible.’
‘Harry, where you go, I go. Now and always. I have made this resolve.’
He looked at Annie, who made a face and shrugged.
‘Do you not want me to accompany you, Harry?’ Elizabeth asked.
>
‘Want you? Oh, darling girl … I have never wanted anyone else. But your name …’
‘I wish to forget my name.’
‘Then …’ he hesitated. But it had to be said. ‘What of my family? Will the Lord Lieutenant still be your friend when he learns you have run off with me?’
‘Do you not intend to rescue them anyway?’
‘Of course.’
‘How?’
‘Why … I intend to ride for our fleet’s rendezvous, at Kinsale. But that is another reason why you must abandon this idea. It will be a hard journey.’
‘I am perfectly capable of riding seventy miles, Harry. And you mean to take your squadron into Dublin itself?’
‘That is my intention. If we take them by surprise we should accomplish our objective, and it is the sort of daring scheme that will certainly appeal to Paul Jones.’
‘Then you will accomplish it, surely, long before the Lord Lieutenant, or anyone, knows I have eloped with you, Harry.’
He gazed at her. But he knew he would not stop her, short of tying her up. And how he wanted her at his side.
‘Oh, how I envy you,’ Annie O’Rourke said. ‘How I envy you both.’
*
They took the high road to the west, through the remainder of the night. By dawn they were outside Dunvurgan, and rode into the woods to dismount by a rushing stream. Annie had provided them with cold meat and bread, and they breakfasted, washing their meal down with clear, cool water, in which, afterwards, Elizabeth waded, her boots lying on the bank and her skirts held to her waist, her long white legs flashing in the sunlight, while Harry lay on the bank and watched her, and had to restrain himself from going to her and loving her again. But they had no time, and he had no need. She was his, utterly and forever. Even if she were to change her mind, she could hardly go back now — her departure would be known. Had it not been for the constant misery lurking at the back of his mind, and kept there as an act of will or it would have overwhelmed him, he would have been the happiest man in the world. He loved, and was loved, by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and now he shared a height of intimacy with her he had not supposed possible between any couple in history.
And why should he not be happy, he wondered? If this long held and so often abandoned dream had at last come true, should not all his others do so? Assaulting Dublin, in this mood, would be nothing but an incident.
They remounted and rode, the rising sun at their backs. They had to pace their horses, but they still made good time. John Paul, Harry knew, intended to lie off Kinsale until dawn tomorrow morning.
They passed Youghal in mid morning, and after another bucolic meal, consuming the last of their food, were circling the outskirts of Cork in mid afternoon, before leaving the road to ride across the hills and valleys for Kinsale. They passed several people on the road, and once even the stage coach, rumbling out of Cork and bound for Waterford. They waved as if they were two lovers out for a gallop, and the passengers waved back. No doubt, once they reached Waterford, the good people would realise who they had been, but no one could catch them now.
‘The sea,’ he shouted, pointing as they topped the last rise. Below them, and to the left, was the tiny fishing village of Kinsale. Ahead of them, at the foot of the cliffs, the Atlantic Ocean rose and fell in a gentle swell. And there, anchored within a hundred yards of the beach, was the Bonhomme Richard, surrounded by the smaller vessels of the squadron. Harry wondered what sort of a reception Pierre Landais had received — although he did not suppose John had really been angry enough to carry out his threat of hanging the Frenchman from his own yardarm.
He rode his horse to the very edge of the cliff, where the land fell away precipitously straight down to the sea fifty feet below, and fired a pistol into the air, waving his hat as he did so. The wind was from the north,and certainly the shot was heard. With telescopes the watchers on the ships would be able to see him, and identify him, he had no doubt, but to make sure he dismounted, so that they would be able to see that he stood considerably taller than his horse’s shoulder.
‘They’re lowering a boat,’ Elizabeth said.
‘So let’s get down to the beach.’ He mounted again, and led her through the valley which debouched on to the sand. His heart pounded and his brain was singing; not even the dormant misery could prevent the feeling of exhilaration which was surging through him.
He dismounted on the sand. ‘We’ll turn the horses loose,’he told Elizabeth. ‘There is grazing back there, and we will undoubtedly be followed; they will be returned to Tramore quickly enough.’ He held her hand as they waded into the shallow water to greet the approaching boat.
Richard Dale himself was in command. ‘Harry!’ he cried. ‘By all the gods, we had supposed you dead.’
‘Not I,’ Harry laughed, and swung Elizabeth into his arms to lift her over the gunwale.
Dale frowned. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘A passenger,’ Harry told him. ‘Lady Steyne. She will be sailing with us, for a while.’
Dale’s frown deepened.
John Paul was at the gangway to greet them. ‘Harry!’ He embraced his friend. ‘And here was I thinking this voyage a greater disaster than the last. But riding off like that … it was undisciplined. And it was unwise.’
‘I know it,’ Harry said. ‘The news of my father’s death, and then my family’s arrest, why, I suppose it made me mad, for a while. Fortunately, I did not pursue the matter to a senseless conclusion. You’ve not met Elizabeth, John. But you have heard a lot about her.’ John Paul frowned at her. ‘Elizabeth?’
‘Elizabeth Steyne, John. Elizabeth Bartlett that was.’
‘Ah.’ John Paul saluted, although his expression revealed little pleasure. ‘Well, madam. I do not know what circumstances drove you to accompany Harry this far, but I would suggest you return to your husband as rapidly as you can. Mr Dale, you’ll set the lady ashore.’ Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and dismay.
‘You misunderstand the situation, John,’ Harry explained. ‘She will have to sail with us.’ John Paul stared at him.
‘She has nowhere else to go,’ Harry told him. ‘Besides …’
John Paul’s face had reddened. ‘You think to bring a woman on board my ship, sir?’ he snapped. ‘Against all the laws of this ship? And that woman?’
Now it was Harry’s turn to frown, both in surprise at John Paul’s unreasonable anger, and as he noticed the strain lines racing away from his friend’s eyes, the nervous twitch of his fingers. ‘I would ask you to bend those rules on this occasion, John,’ he said quietly. ‘I could make no other decision.’
‘Decision, sir?’ John Paul shouted. ‘What decisions do you have to make, save as instructed by me? This is my ship, my squadron, and you are my subordinate officer, sir. I am amazed at you. And ashamed for you. Did you then abandon your purpose and ride off, leaving your men leaderless on a hostile shore, for the sake of a liaison … with another man’s wife?’
Harry found himself growing angry in turn. ‘Why, yes, Captain Jones, if you wish to put it that way. It is not something unique in either of us.’
John Paul glared at him. ‘You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head, mister,’ he said. ‘What happened ashore, off duty, bears no relation to how we must conduct ourselves afloat and on a mission. I am disappointed in you, sir. Disappointed. Now we must make haste. You have doubtedly been followed, and our whole purpose will be discovered. Mr Dale, set that woman ashore.’
‘No,’ Elizabeth gasped. ‘Harry …’
‘You cannot do that, John,’ Harry protested.
‘Cannot?’ John Paul demanded.
‘You do not properly appreciate the situation,’ Harry said. ‘Elizabeth has abandoned all to be with me. This fact is by now well known. There can be no doubt of it. For her to return … even if she can. We have turned our horses loose. She has neither money nor food. She …’
‘Will have to beg her way back to Tramore,’ Jo
hn Paul said. ‘And then beg her husband’s mercy, no doubt, as he strips the skin from her ass. And right richly will she deserve it.’
‘I will excuse your vulgarity, sir,’ Harry said. ‘To return will also expose her to a charge of treason, as she has aided a wanted traitor to escape. In addition, she knows where my family are being held in Dublin, so that when we attack the port …’
‘Attack the port, sir? Attack Dublin? Do not speak to me of Dublin; I do not share your madness. I have hazarded my squadron long enough for the sake of your misbegotten family. Mr Dale, I have given you an order. Set that … that hussy ashore, and let us make sail. Mr McGann, you are confined to your quarters until further notice, on a charge of having deserted your command in time of war. I will decide your punishment later. Haste now, Mr Dale.’
‘Milady,’ Dale said, grasping Elizabeth’s arm.
‘Harry,’ she cried.
‘You’ll not do it, John,’ Harry said. ‘You’ll not do it.’
‘Mutiny? Aye, you were ever one for mutiny, McGann. Then you shall be confined in the brig. Seize him, boatswain. Put him in irons.’
‘Why, you …’ Harry took a step forward, and the afternoon burst into blackness. His last thought was that it had all happened before, that this was indeed his preordained fate, and all else, sheer illusion. ‘He’s under a considerable strain,’ Richard Dale said, easing himself to sit on the grating to which Harry was confined, forward in the hold of the Bonhomme Richard. This too was familiar, although the circumstances were somewhat different; further aft were more prisoners, a considerable number of them, sailors taken from the Indiaman captured by Pierre Landais. They were not chained, but there were two armed Americans on guard over them at all times. Which made escape quite impossible, as they could see everything he might be doing as well. That was even supposing there was anyone on board who would even consider trying to help him. Not Richard Dale, for sure, however much the young man obviously knew he had been harshly treated and wished to remain friends. Dale was one of those released from an English prison by the exchange of prisoners following the capture of the sloop the previous year; if he followed any god at all, that god was John Paul Jones.
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