“A little wine,” she said.
“Will you not have a bottle of porter?”
“I did not taste a drop of it since that night back in Birmingham, ”she said; and I will never taste it again, either. I am bad enough without becoming an alcoholic.”
It so happened that the Black and Tan whom she had boxed in the mouth in the hall, was sitting on a stool in the same room. He threw back what was left in his glass when he saw them coming towards him, he got to his feet and he rushed out the door. He looked dishevelled like a person who had been drinking for a month. His reply to the greeting Wallace Woods made to him was gruff, and unmannerly; and the way he looked at Una, really scared her. He banged the door noisily, behind him and he was muttering under his breath.
“Harry is not in a good mood today,” Wallace said.
“He has the cut of the antichrist about him,” she said, and she began to laugh. “He certainly looks as if he was a hangman, or a tax collector of a process server, or some sort of a devil like that before he joined the Black and Tans. His awful appearance would frighten a hungry horse from its oats.”
“He is from London,” Wallace said, “I am thinking that he spent most of his life in prison. The same Harry is a contrary lad, and my advice to you is to stay well away from him.
“It is an awful pity that a bullet was not put in him the night that he was in Gleann Ceo.” she said, taking a sip from the glass of wine.
“My regret that it wasn’t himself and the other Black and Tans, who got the bullets,” he said, instead of the men who got them. But obviously it is hard to end the bad thing.”
“Was anyone killed?” she said.
“Two of our men were killed,” he said, and three others were wounded. It was a spineless deed to attack like that, from behind ditches, in the darkness of the night, and we having no chance to shoot at them.”
“Burning the hall was every bit as spineless,” she said. There was no justification whatever for the likes.”
“I am afraid that they will not be satisfied with burning the next time the come raiding this way. According to what I hear them saying, they are planning a sudden attack on Gleann Ceo some morning before you get out of your beds; and I guarantee you that it will be too bad for the Sinnfeinigh they capture. If they attack tomorrow morning I will not be with them, I will be on guard from midnight tonight. It is not right for me to be giving out this information, you know; and if they found out that I did the likes, I would be ensnared in a web that would be difficult to untangle. But they are so angry about yon ambush, that I am afraid that they will do something terrible altogether when they go up again, and I would not like to see any of your brothers tortured. Warn them and their friends be on their guard, as soon as you can. I have a notion that this attack will take place tomorrow morning. But on your life do not tell anyone that it was from me that you got this information.”
Although it was interesting for Una to hear this information, and even though she could relate it word for word as the soldier had delivered it, she was thinking about something else. She was judging Wallace Woods in her own mind. He was only a few years older than her. He was the right height, she thought. He was neither too thin nor too fat. She found his accent and voice pleasant, and she liked the kindness and merriment in his eyes. He was as handsome a young fellow as you would meet any place.
He got tea for her as a delaying tactic, and they talked about a lot of things; about fun nights in Birmingham; about all the dangers he had come through in the Big War; about the miss-deeds of the Black and Tans; about this and that. They were more open with each other than ever before.
It was nightfall when Una Guildea reached home. All the Mac Alastair family were sitting around the fire and they were happy. Marcus was sitting in the corner and he was enjoying his pipe.
“By God,” he said, “here comes Mal Dubh an Ghleanna/ The Black Witch of the Gleann! Be assured that she will have bull’s eyes/sweets, for us from the town. Close the door behind you, like a good child, and come over here to me, sister.”
“I will not be closing it yet,” she said, “I have a little errant with you for a minute. Goitseo!”
“Are you asking me to go outside with you?” Marcus said. “Devil the foot I will put outside the door with you tonight.”
“Ah leave your mocking aside,” Una said. “Get up here to the door, you big old layabout. I have something extra ordinarily special for you.”
He got up and stretched, then, he took a few long steps down to open the parlour door.
“Down here in front of me, sister, until I hear your story.”
The pair went into the parlour and they closed the door. It wasn’t long closed until it was opened again and the pair came back into the kitchen. Marcus was rushing more than usual, and Una went out the door without the chance to say any more than “Good night to you,” Marcus went with her as far as the door.
“Now girl,” he said, “ don’t let the grass grow under your feet, and if you fall don’t wait to get up.”
Triona had the kettle hanging when he returned, and she was as fussy as he was. Because she had a good idea what was happening.
“I will make a good drop of tea for you, love.” she said. “I believe I will not see you again until morning?”
“You guessed correctly,” he said, throwing off his low shoes and pulling on the strong hob-nailed pair instead. “Una said that the clique from Droim Dhilliuir are planning to visit us at day break; and if that much is correct, it would be an awful pity not to go part of the way and give them fearadh na failte/the best welcome possible.”
“I am afraid that it is failte Chailleach an Doichill/the Reluctant Witch, they will get this time.” Triona said.
“We will give them such a noisy welcome that it will be heard in every place from Barr an Gleanna to Loch Eala, “ he said. “I guarantee that they will not be in any hurry coming here again without an invitation. I told her to tell Conn Mac Carty and Pol and Feargal and Peadar, as fast as she possibly could. They won’t be long gathering the men. The most of them will be gathered at the Droighead within the hour. And they have to do that because we have a long hard nights work ahead of us before morning.”
“How did Una get all that information?” Triona said. “Any other person would be a week in Droim Dhilliuir before he would have that much back with him.”
“She said that it was two of the Black and Tans who were drunk in the guest house where she was drinking tea, and listening to them.”
“To be sure it is great credit to her,” Nabla said, “Often the likes of her passes no heed to the ravings of drunk people.”
Dawn was breaking and Gleann Ceo was resting in peace and darkness. There was no sound to be heard except the gentle tune of Abhann an Eas, and the constant sound of so many little streams whispering through the heather. But although the Gleann was under darkness and peace not everyone was asleep. There was one house about halfway down the Gleann towards the Droighead, which was very busy indeed that night. There were between fifty and sixty men gathered in the kitchen and the rooms, who were drinking tea from mugs, cups, bowls and saucepans, and from every other dish that they could get their hands on. A few of the men were busy helping the woman of the house to make tea while some others were making sandwiches with white bread. That is what the Gleann Ceo Republican Army were doing while waiting for the enemy to attack at the dawning of the day.
So far the night was easy enough. Some of them were on guard at Barr an Gleanna defending the highway from Dun le Grein. A few more were at Loc an Chuilinn, protecting the way across the Bradshleibhe from Ballinashee. Another group was at the far side of the Gleann blocking the top of the mountain above Drumkeeran, where they had rocks gathered between Dun le Grein and the crossroads at the head of Loch Eala. Then they gathered under the hanging peaks, which were between Loch Eala and Barr an Gleanna and which hung over three sharp bends on the highway. The only protection on the edge of these peaks was a clay dit
ch. It was a splendid place to capture the enemy. Hanging peaks overhead and hanging peaks under them. There was no escape. Their plan was to close the upper bend with rocks while the enemy was negotiating the other two bends and then close the lower bend with more rocks hurled from the overhanging peak after the lorries had passed, fencing them in from both ends. They were planning to toss hand grenades from behind the peaks when the time was right, and Marcus had advised them to make plenty of small holes in the ditch so that they could fire safely without exposing themselves to danger. There were sentries along the highway and no lorry could leave Droim Dhilliuir unknown to them.
There was enough daylight to see the mantle of fog that was on top of Sliabh an Iarann when three unlighted lorries left Droim Dhilliuir. Every man was in his place behind the ditch on top of the peak, and apart from the gentle breeze blowing across the whins, there wasn’t a stir. The men were interested only in the engines which were drawing close to them, and which were weakening against the steep hills. The riffles were loaded, hand grenades were lying ready on the ground, and there were cans of petrol and oil nearby. A few of the strongest men were at the ready with iron bars waiting to hurl the big rock over the peaks at the precise moment. Conn Mc Carty was in charge of the men who were guarding the lower bend. As soon as they were finished hurdling the rocks they were to engage with guns and riffles. Feargal Guildea was in charge of the men at the top bend where there were plenty of huge rocks ready for toppling. Marcus himself was in charge of the centre bend.
The lorries drove up the slopes until the first one was taking the first bend. A strong grip was taken on crowbars and hands were spit upon. Men went down on one knee and carefully fingered triggers aiming the barrels on the highway. The first lorry carrying soldiers only, reached the first bend. They had riffles, bayonets and machineguns. Some of them were scanning the sheer rock of the mountain above them. The first lorry drove on into the second bend. The other two lorries were close behind it. There were quite a lot of soldiers, police and Black and Tans on these two lorries. They also had machineguns.
As soon as the third lorry had rounded the bend out of their sight the men with the crowbars got to work and prayed. The sound of the falling rocks was like roaring thunder, knocking sparks off each other as they crashed to the ground. In seconds a stone ditch was formed across the road behind the lorries. That was just the beginning. A hand grenade was hurled through the air which exploded in front of the last lorry. The soldiers, police and Black and Tans were forced to jump from the lorries. While the echo of the explosion still lingered, the air was filled with a volley of shots from riffles and guns. When the soldiers went for shelter behind the ditch they realized that it was in fact the edge of the cliff so steep that was frightening just to look over it. With nowhere else to hide they scampered under their lorries. So far they were all still alive. The volley of shots had frightened them more than anything else because they went across the Gleann. Marcus Mac Alastair had decided to scare them first just to test them.
The British felt safe enough under their lorries so they fired a few rounds from the machineguns, but they were only wasting lead against the high peaks. The Republican men rained bullets down on top of them which bored holes in the lorries, and knocked smoke from the ditch behind the British. A hand grenade landed on top of a lorry the explosion from which sent splinters of wood and glass high into the air. Some of the British considered jumping the cliff after that, thinking that it would be better to be lying injured at the bottom of it than to be waiting for the deadly grenades to fall on your head any minute. They were ready to surrender.
The British decided not to fire any more shots. They could see that they were trapped with no escape. They were about sixty men, strong, with machineguns, plenty of riffles, and all the ammunition they needed, but they might as well have only one blunt knife, such was the plight they were in with Marcus Mac Alastair that morning. Seeing the predicament they were in Marcus thought that they might be ready to listen to a few words from him. He raised his voice from behind the ditch;
“Soldiers of England” he said, “I think that you have advanced as far as you can go today, at least. It was foolish of you to think that you could come without alerting us in this Gleann. We could have vented our anger on you before you jumped from the lorries, but we thought that would not be in keeping with cothrom na Feinne/fair play. We have you captured nicely, but we are not going to be too hard on you. We have no place to keep prisoners of war, and it is our intention to let you go back the way you came. You may leave the three machineguns and all the ammunition. We need them. You may take every thing else with you. Place them on the ditch in front of us, then you may get into your lorries and jog back to Droim Dhilliuir at your ease. The riffles must be left loaded as they are now. As for the wall of big stones blocking your retreat, we will throw you down a few crowbars and a few spades. If you make a gap in the ditch it will not take you long to fill it with stones. I will give you five minutes to consider.
Marcus had no intention of waiting five minutes. The leaders of the British soldiers replied in less than a minute. An officer stood on the ditch and with a defiant voice he said, that they had no intention of giving up their machineguns or ammunition, even if they were obliged to remain there until nightfall, adding that they expected more soldiers to join them before too long
“Very good, son.” Marcus said. “You are to blame yourselves for the harm that is about to befall you. Be aware of that.”
Before the officer had time to take cover a shower of bottles rained down on one of the lorries and smashed in smithereens. The petrol poured down on the men under it. Then came bits of iron with blazing rags soaked in paraffin oil tied to them. The lorry took fire. More and more bottles were thrown down from behind the ditch. Soldiers with their clothes on fire ran out from under the lorries. A volley of shots was fired which compelled the soldiers to return for shelter in haste. Petrol exploded in the lorry. A column of smoke and flames leaped twenty feet into the air. Marcus knew that they could not resist much longer. The officer in charge mounted the ditch, and with a defiant voice he said;
“We surrender according to the conditions mentioned a while ago. But remember, you will regret this.”
“Less of your threats now” Marcus said. “It is enough for you to have destroyed a good lorry on yourselves.”
Marcus had ordered the uppermost lorry only to be destroyed so as not to hamper their retreat. It was in desperation that the soldiers left their machineguns and ammunition on the ditch, and it was with great anger that they cleared the rocks from the road. The soldiers uttered evil threats and warnings as they left, and the ambushers gave three cheers from the top of the peak.
They watched the two lorries drive down the slopes until they reached the flat at the crossroads, and they continued across the Shannon.
“Off they go to Droim Dhilliuir,” Marcus said, “and down we go to examine our machineguns.”
They rushed down to the highway and the gathered around Marcus as he demonstrated how to us the machines. They counted the ammunition and divided it among themselves.
“It is good that the foot-patrol is not here now,” Feargal said. “They would be expecting their share of bullets and they would not be too happy if they did not get at least one machinegun.”
“In my opinion all the soldiers in Droim Dhilliuir will be down on top of us before night.” Conn Mac Carty said.
“I don’t think they will come like that again,” Marcus said, “More likely they will throw a circle around the entire Gleann, and they cannot do that until the mountain dries out. Line up men, and let us go home.”
LET’S TAKE A LOOK AROUND
Although Marcus Mac Alastair did not expect the enemy to attack the Gleann until the mountain dried up a bit, he was on his guard in preparation for fear of the worst. He expected then to wait until spring, and then to steal in with full force, and circle the Gleann from the top of the mountain some morning at dawn. But
on the other hand, maybe a vast mob of them could arrive up the Gleann any time when they were least expected; so he and some of his men were always on guard. The work in the mine was going ahead as it always had been. The coal was in bigger demand than ever before. People, who had no respect for Irish coal years ago, would buy no other coal at this time. That left the miners as busy as they possibly could be. There were youngsters drawing coal there who never drew coal before, nor their fathers before them. They were enticed by the big pay, the profits that would be divided between them on St. John’s Day, and at Christmas. There were groups of them working at night as well. The water came on then in a hollow on the main passage a while previous to that, and they had to cut a new passage/road through the rock, to make way for this water to drain out, on the side of the hill that was on the Abhann an Eas side of the mine. As well as draining the mine this passage had another use. If the enemy came upon them suddenly, there would be no delay for them to clear out into the deep ravine into which this passage led.; and when they were in this ravine they could escape up or down through it unseen. The miners who were in the Republican Army continuously took their arms and ammunition with them to the mine; and they thought nothing of this. A machinegun was ready in its own secret place, and it would be too bad for the enemy who darkened the mouth of the main passage, never mind trying to come in through the darkness. A sentry was on guard at all times outside the mine; and the man who spent part of the day or the night guarding it, in this way, got his pay the same as if he was inside the mine about his work. Seimin Ban was still a foreman, as usual, and he as mantach/toothless, as busy, and as pleasant as ever. But he was terrified of guns and riffles, and he kept as far away from them, as he would from a poisonous snake. Since they had begun to bring arms and ammunition into the mine Seimin Ban would always be the last man out of the hiding place; because he would not walk in front of any man who was carrying a gun, whether that gun was loaded or otherwise. He was so much afraid of guns that he would neither look at them nor talk about them.
West, in the Foggy Valley Page 14
