The Convict and the Soldier

by John P F Lynch

  The noise of a crash made them both turn in the direction of the cottage. They witnessed the roof being pulled apart by ropes attached to the main beam and tied to the harnesses of two draught horses. Within five minutes the cottage was no more. Michael couldn’t stand the sight. He bid goodbye to the Lieutenant and abruptly turned and took his leave. He was boiling inside, but what could he do? He walked on after his father who had made good time and was now heading to the docks. So far, so good!

  Another hour saw the cart passing the market and on the dock road at the check point with the guards.

  “Stop,” a voice called out.

  With his heart pounding his father stopped.

  The caller rode up. “Are your skins for sale?”

  “Yes, of course. Will you be here in the next two hours?” was his response.

  “Yes, I will expect you.” The guards looked on idly and did not search the cart as the skins were now stinking.

  Edmund was shaken but he continued on until he was inside his brother’s wood storage shed, heaving a sigh of relief that the trip was over. The cart stopped and the rebel crawled out — pale, stiff and unable to walk. Michael arrived and helped the rebel into a large shavings bin. His father immediately went back to the waiting skins buyer and sold all the skins, returning with several shillings. Why not? His father felt good. The excitement had invigorated him. He looked ten years younger. He had had a great day having struck a blow against the British rule, as well as making a few shillings.

  The rebel was delighted with the success of the first stage of his escape and wanted to commence the Kilrush to Galway voyage as soon as possible. Michael went to the office and looked at the planned delivery dates of the next boats. It was bad news — no new boats were scheduled to be completed for a month. They were still being built. Michael then remembered this was why his uncle wanted him back at work.

  He thanked his father and bid him farewell. His father responded by giving him some shillings for his coach fare back from Galway. Michael then went to the repair yard and checked the work coming and going out. In two days’ time a small hooker would be leaving for a small fishing bay just north of Galway Bay. Michael had seen the owner before — a Mr McBean. He had repaired McBean’s boats in the past but had not met him personally. Michael decided to offer himself as a crewman and see what response he got before he broached the matter of passage for the rebel.

  Michael was lucky and soon found the boat owner in a nearby tavern.

  As he approached him, McBean looked up and nodded. “Hello, young Keogh, what can I do for you?”

  “May I speak with you in private, sir?” McBean led him to a small room off the main bar. Michael started hesitantly. “Do you need any crew to deliver your boat tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I need a forward hand. Are you offering to crew?” asked McBean.

  “Yes. Could I bring along a friend as well?”

  The owner looked at him deeply. He had heard of the rebel the authorities were seeking and he was now suspicious. McBean could not afford to get mixed up in such business and responded, “I’ll tell you what you can do. You and your friend can deliver the boat and you can take my nephew, Jaime Neyland, with you. I know you two know each other from your school days. You will sail on tomorrow’s tide and pick up Jaime at the West Point. Deliver the boat to where he tells you. Can you agree to this?”

  Michael looked at him in astonishment. McBean had not only made up his mind on the spot but had decided how the trip would be done. “Yes, we will be there.”

  Michael walked back to the shed, delighted with the plan. He and the rebel would sail directly to Galway Bay to find an American ship once the rebel was aboard, then he and Jaime would sail to the nearby fishing village. He told the rebel of his plan and advised him that they should get some sleep as they would go to the boat at daybreak.

  ¶

  Dawn showed a clear sky with a light north-westerly breeze. They slipped the boat quickly and quietly, helped by his uncle’s workmen. His uncle did not know he was in Kilrush — the less involved the safer the venture. Michael unfurled the jib sail which instantly filled and pulled the small boat out into the harbour waters. They had a mainsail but he would not use this until he had picked up Jaime and was out in the open sea. They had a leisurely sail downstream looking at the Indianmen and the majestic Ships of War anchored in the middle of the harbour.

  West Point soon appeared off to the starboard. Michael pushed the tiller over to steer the boat towards the sandy shore onto which he would beach the bow.

  A man about his own age appeared and walked quickly towards them, raising his arm in greeting. Michael waved back. The boat touched beach, then Jaime jumped aboard. After pushing the boat back from the shore with the oars, they turned and shook hands. Michael introduced the rebel — still no name was forthcoming.

  Jaime was an experienced sailor and took over the tiller, calling for the mainsail to be raised. They were soon clipping along at a good rate. They would be at Galway Bay by early evening and then planned to sail slowly around the ships at anchor in harbour searching for an American vessel. The wind was increasing in strength but from the same direction, Jaime decided to reef the mainsail as they were still making good time.

  They stayed out to sea and did not turn towards land until the sun was setting. Both Jaime and Michael knew the coastline landmarks and easily identified Galway Bay. The wind strength did not abate until they were at the entrance of the bay. They had made good time to be there at sundown.

  The men could see the town lights and the ships riding at anchor. The tide was running in causing the ships to have their bows to the open sea and into the northwest wind. Jaime decided to sail only on the jib to slow the boat to make it easier to read the ships’ names and home ports which were painted on their sterns. They had sailed past five ships when Michael saw the name ‘Nantucket — New York’ on the stern of a large vessel. They sailed around the ship and then started a long slow approach level with the Nantucket’s port side. A boom was out with a painter and a small dinghy attached. Jaime instructed the rebel to jump into the dingy, when told to do so and then climb the rope ladder. Farewells and thanks were made but the rebel remained nameless!

  The boat continued its slow speed parallel to the Nantucket’s port side hull.

  “Jump!” said Jaime. The rebel jumped and stumbled. He nearly fell out of the dingy but managed to grab hold of the rope ladder and climb to the deck where two sailors approached him and led him away. The rebel was now on his own. Jaime pushed the tiller over as Michael raised the mainsail.

  Jaime and Michael headed out of the bay and turned north, making good speed. Within half an hour they reached the fishing village and had completed their voyage. It had been a long few days and Michael felt exhausted.

  Jaime took Michael to an inn where there was a coach stop. They had a few ales and a meal and Jaime stayed with Michael until he was to board the coach.

  As he was being farewelled and about to board Jaime said to him, “I am almost certain that our rebel was Brendan Devine of the Free Ireland Movement. If he was, we are now famous. But don’t tell anyone or we will get a free sea trip in irons ourselves — to the Australian colonies or worse.”

  When the coachman invited the passengers to board, the ladies were naturally helped to their seats first and, of course, got the best seats. When Michael boarded he was offered a seat between two rather portly elderly ladies. The ladies both dozed but unfortunately one had a chest complaint and she wheezed rather loudly for the next two hours. But at least being wedged between them Michael was saved from some of the discomforts of the swaying of the coach. The coach trip was rough, it pitched and rolled worse than any ship on which he had sailed and landed hard. He had hoped to get some sleep on the way back to Kilrush but that was impossible.

  He thought of the comment Jaime had made about the rebel’s possible name. Brendan Devine was a very well-known name for his Free Ireland Movement but would he risk
his life to deliver pamphlets? He had not been to County Clare before, so maybe this was his way of reaching more Irishmen and at the same time showing his dedication in an attempt to encourage more of the populace to the ‘freedom cause’.

  The coach continued bouncing and banging for the next two hours. There was a stop for a change of horses and time for a welcome ale, a bite to eat and a stretch of one’s legs. Then they reboarded the coach and continued on to Kilrush.

  Michael looked at his fellow passengers and wondered who they were and what their thoughts were on the future of Ireland — if any. He wondered how many other Irishmen had been involved in similar escapades as he and his father. He had heard stories of the dramas in Dublin with the resultant transportation of Irish political activists. He wondered where Ireland was heading.

  They were close to Kilrush now and Michael could see the buildings in the grey of the dawn. He started to sleep; the road had become smoother as they were close to town.

  Michael awoke to hear voices calling out to the coach driver. “Stop in the Queen’s name.” The passengers on the coach immediately became wide awake, clasping their valuables; a hold up by highwaymen was uncommon in this part of Ireland, but not unheard of.

  The call came from a group of constables and soldiers. They asked all passengers to alight and stand in a row alongside the coach. It was Michael’s nemesis, the senior constable again. He was shorter than Michael but larger around the waist. His loose pistol belt exaggerated his ample girth. The constable walked along the short line of passengers and asked each their name and why they were travelling so early in the day. All had legitimate reasons.

  Then came Michael’s turn to be questioned. The senior constable stood very close and virtually spat his questions at him. Michael said that he had delivered a boat to a fishing village and was returning home.

  The senior constable knew Michael was a shipwright and a capable sailor as well. Could he be telling the truth? He asked, “What were the names of the crew?”

  Michael replied, “Jaime O’Laughlin. He operated the boat on behalf of his uncle.”

  “Anyone else?” he asked.

  Michael replied, “You only need two to crew a Hooker fishing boat.”

  The senior constable looked at him and walked away, then turned back to him. “I know that you’re a party in this rebel escape and I intend to get you.”

  This worried Michael as he could see this situation could now be levelled at his father, sister and aunt and that they could be made to suffer.

  On his arrival in Kilrush Michael went to his uncle’s home and told him he was ready to work again.

  His uncle queried him as to what he had been doing; he knew Michael had sailed the Hooker north.

  “It is better that you do not know.”

  His uncle looked hard at him and then nodded his agreement.

  ¶

  Two weeks later the search for the rebel was still continuing. The authorities were convinced that he was still in the area as they did not believe that he could have got past the guards manning the roads and docks at either Kilrush or Liscannor. Michael, with his uncle’s blessing, decided to return home for a few days. He was still concerned at the possibility of the senior constable causing trouble. How right he was!

  As Michael reached the crest of the small road to his home he saw the constables and some soldiers at the side of the house. The constables were arguing with his father, while the soldiers looked on. When they saw Michael approaching them, the constables stepped back a few paces. His father was angry but in control of his emotions; he had formed a hatred of this senior constable and intended to stop him from causing his family any more grief. Maeve had told him of the dock incident of a month or so ago. When Michael confronted the constables, his father quietly moved to the back of the house and walked away.

  Michael asked the constables, “Why are you here?”

  The response was, “We want to know where the rebel is.”

  “Well he is not here, is he?” Michael replied.

  They argued like this for ten minutes or so, until suddenly a constable called out, “Look there, a man’s running towards the rocks.”

  The senior constable said to a nearby constable, “Hold this man,” pointing to Michael. Together with three of his group, he ran off in the direction of the rocks.

  The man stood on the large rock and then vanished from sight.

  When the constables reached the large rock it took them some minutes to find the entrance. They climbed up and then all slid down behind the brambles into the dimness of the cave. They stood wondering what to do next while their eyes became accustomed to the gloom.

  Michael knew it was his father they were chasing and he thought he knew why. The cave was about a hundred feet long and opened out to the side of the cliffs immediately around the corner. If you were not careful you would step out into the Atlantic Ocean. There were a few steps where one could climb up onto the open grassland six feet above but it was a very dangerous, short climb and was not very obvious without being shown.

  The constables heard a voice in the cave but it was unclear what was being said as it was in Gaelic. One of the constables said, “It’s the rebel,” and started running towards the light of the opening.

  The senior constable ran forward and pushed him out of the way. “Follow me.” He wanted this rebel who had caused him so much embarrassment and abuse from his commander; he was determined to be the one who captured him. He was running confidently now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. The voice was nearer. Soon I’ll have you, he thought. He turned the corner and saw the opening.

  The senior constable tried to stop; managing to grasp hold of some bracken on the wall at the cave opening but the second constable was right behind him and ran into him. The senior constable started to fall and grabbed the second constable’s belt. They both held there for a second and then fell through the cave opening to the sea below. Their screams reached the other two constables who immediately halted. Cautiously they looked around the corner and saw no one.

  The two constables looked at each other and then bolted back along the cave to the large boulder, climbed out and ran back to the other constables to tell them what had happened. The constables were dead and so was the rebel. They had just vanished through the opening into the sea.

  The constables lost interest in Michael and released him. Then they mounted their horses and rode off to the road to report back to their commander at Kilrush.

  Michael could see his father walking back from the cliffs looking most grim. Not a word was said by either of them but they each knew what had happened. The senior constable would not harm the Keogh family again.

  The local paper praised the heroism of the constables for their tragic deaths while pursuing a dangerous Irish rebel who was also reported as killed. After this the town settled down to a level of normalcy again. Some of the landlords were going broke and sold their holdings to other landlords who knew even less about farming than the previous landlords. Meanwhile the evictions continued. Although not as many as at the previous rate but they still continued.

  Michael spent more time at home. He and Maeve still went to market and made a point of passing the military barracks each trip. It was no coincidence that Lieutenant John Hall was in attendance at the market during their visits.

  ¶

  Maeve and John Hall were now on first name terms and had formed an affection for each other.

  Michael’s father had recovered his interest in life, and this Michael was glad about. The two farms had sufficient crops and Aunt Jane had started receiving some money from her husband in America.

  The evictions were distasteful to all decent folk. Many of the town people who had steady employment, however lowly paid, had relatives who had been evicted, and felt guilty as they were unable to assist them with their meagre money. The famine was still affecting the Irish although some harvests were fruitful.

  Michael was on his way to anoth
er market when he again had occasion to witness another eviction. This eviction was incredibly poignant as there were eight children in the family. The new senior constable, Smith, was a little man scarcely five feet two inches in height, but with an arrogance twice his size. He normally remained on horse, giving orders like an army officer on the field of battle. He always seemed to have his constables running hither and thither, whilst achieving very little.

  On this occasion, the farmer had been manhandled out of the house with several of his children holding his legs. It was a pitiful sight. The woman was holding a baby and was begging the constables to release her husband. She promised that they would leave without causing any trouble. The senior constable lifted his foot from the stirrup and pushed her over with his boot. Both the woman and the baby fell to the ground. The Irish crowd was incensed by this cowardly action.

  Michael who happened to be standing next to her grabbed the bridle and tried to pull the senior constable from his horse. The rider’s bravado left him immediately and he tried to ride through the crowd. His horse reared and threw its rider. The crowd moved back and stood staring at the senior constable as he lay on the ground with his uniform soiled, cap awry and a gash on his forehead.

  When the other constables moved in to rescue him from a potential crowd attack, Michael moved to the rear of the crowd. He realised what he had done. The senior constable remounted and looked around for Michael, his dark eyes filled with rage but unable to see him, he then refocused his attention on the family being evicted.

  Michael managed to slip away in a dray cart of a friend. He went home somewhat shaken. He knew that one of the crowd would tell the authorities who he was and where he lived. He did not have long to wait.

  The next morning up rode a detachment of constables and soldiers, led by Colonel Lang. Lieutenant Hall was with him.

  The colonel took charge. “Michael Keogh? People like you disgust me. You ignorant Irish peasant. You’re a blot on the face of the earth.” His face was as red as his tunic. His professionalism was completely forgotten; his tirade went on and on.