Had General O’Neill not entertained strong hopes he should be re-inforced, knowing, as he did, that a large body of Fenian troops were scattered along the American frontier, under the command of brave and true men, he would have broken camp with a sad heart on the night of the first. No man in existence was more thoroughly aware than he, that, ‘though brave as lions, the force at his command was altogether too small to effect anything permanent upon the soil of the enemy. The most he hoped to achieve, was a footing, until his command had acquired sufficient strength to enable him to move upon some of the important towns of the Upper Province. Of the dangers and perils that surrounded him he was fully aware; but he knew, also, that, now that he had crossed the Rubicon, how fatal it would be to the prestige of the cause of Ireland, to retreat again to the American shore without measuring swords with the foe, no matter what their numbers, and, if needs be, illustrating, with a handful of men, the spirit resolve and bravery which, long previously, fostered by the noble Roberts and Gibbons, etc., fired the whole Organization on this great continent, and placed the ultimate independence of Ireland beyond any possible contingency. O’Neill was just the man to make this impression, and to seize upon every circumstance calculated to aid him in the attempt. Fresh from the fields of the South, where his sword and name were a watchword and a tower of strength when danger was to be met in the gap, he was used to war in all its phases; while the fierce leaven of his patriotism and the mighty promptings of his ancient name, now that he had made a descent upon the enemy of his country and his race, rendered him almost invincible. Though small his band, he knew that each man who had accompanied him thus far was a host in himself, and ennobled by a spirit identical with that which prompted him in the main. And now the hour had arrived when he should show the enemy and the world that numbers were as nothing in the sight of the God of battles. Besides, he felt it, as a mere matter of generalship, incumbent upon him to maintain, if possible, a foothold or rallying point for whatever reinforcements might follow him, as well as keep open the line of communication with the shores he had but just left. In short, critically as he was placed, and regarding his little host as the vanguard of freedom, he determined to sacrifice himself and them to a man, if necessary, in maintaining his ground until thoroughly satisfied of the truth of his fears that President Roberts, deceived, like the Organization generally, in the capacity of the Secretary of War, was no longer able to send reinforcements or further a movement calculated to sweep the Province from Sandwich to Quebec. In this way matters stood with him on the night that he left his camp at Newbiggin’s Farm. He was aware that two large bodies of the enemy’s troops were marching upon him from two opposite points, and that to permit them to form a junction would be to court utter annihilation. As before observed, then, he set out at the hour already named, with a view to getting between them and defeating the one before the other came up. In his sublime enthusiasm he invested each individual of his command with the purposes and attributes of a hero, and felt that a body so constituted, so compact and so easily handled, could be slung with fearful effect against almost any number of men who had no heart in the fight, save that which was engendered by an uneasy and uncomfortable sentiment of badly founded loyalty to the flag of a tyrant, or that degrading spirit of hireling hostility, which changed its force and direction, in accordance with the amount of gold offered by the subsidizing party.
Moved by impulses so noble and disinterested, the whole camp now marched away in the direction of Chippewa, burning the bridges behind them, to a point some five or six miles distant, where the reconnoitering party, under the command of Col. Hoy, had been ordered to wait until the main body of the troops came up, and to the left of which Gen. O’Neill hoped to intercept some one of the two hostile forces that were, as he was perfectly convinced, moving against him from opposite points of the compass.
In the rear of the moving camp followed Black Jack and Wilson, at a very respectful distance; they being comfortably seated in the wagon of the latter, that had been brought cautiously from its hiding place, when the steady tramp of the rear guard of the army had died away.
“What a pity it is,” said Wilson, as the team crawled slowly along, “that we have no chance to take the number of a few of those self-same invaders from behind a tree or log; for I find the English blood beginning to stir within me.”
“Vot’s to be gained by it,” returned Black Jack, “seein as ‘ow there’s no use in cuttin a vizzen or scuttlin a nob, unless there’s some svag at the end on it? For my own part,” he continued, “I’d rather that ve should try our luck among some of the farmers or gentry about here; although I’m certain they’re purty vide avake seem as vot’s afoot just now.”
“Yes! yes!” returned the other, “that’s all well enough in its way; but as we can’t hope to accomplish much until there’s a fight between the invaders and the invaded, I should like, if an opportunity turned up, to thin out a few of those green jackets while we hid the horses hard by and waited the result of the conflict.”
“Vell! vell!” replied Jack, “there vouldn’t be much ‘arm in tryin our ‘and in that vay, as ven ve got a chance ve might step into the ranks of the Hinglish and give them a lift; ven, if needs be, ve could slip out again and take our luck in the trail of the fight, pickin hup votever might drop in the vay.”
About midnight the troops came up with Col. Hoy’s party, and after marching a considerable distance and then taking a couple of hours rest, the whole force made a cautious detour towards the direct line leading from Ridgeway to Chippewa; O’Neill being satisfied that he had already intercepted the junction of the British, and should be able to engage and defeat either one party or the other before they could both unite.
In this way the night was passed; every precaution being taken to guard against ambush or surprise, until morning became well advanced, and the invaders, after having emerged from a swamp through which they had marched, found themselves within three or four miles of Ridgeway.
It was at this point and period that the Kid, after leaving Greaves, had come up with, or rather encountered, the wagon with Black Jack and Wilson, who, as usual, kept moving slowly in the rear of the troops and sniffing, like blood-hounds or vultures, their prey in the distance.
As observed in a previous chapter, the two worthies had scarcely welcomed their companion or seen him comfortably seated beside them, before they were all aroused by the report of fire-arms, apparently ahead of the main body of the troops, which, as near as they could calculate, was about half a mile in advance. It was at this moment that the brave Col. Starr, who commanded the advance, got the first glimpse of the outposts of the enemy, which he at once charged and drove in like so many sheep; and this was the music heard by Wilson and his companions. Shortly afterwards, the main body of the enemy, commanded by Lieut. Col. Booker, from Port Colborne, were discovered, and the battle was opened by a speedy and judicious disposition of the Fenian forces, and the hasty throwing up of a rail barricade from behind which some of the Boys in Green commenced their work of destruction; while others of them kept the British skirmishers in hand in the woods hard by, and in a manner the most cool and artistic.
Any person who gets a view of Major Dennison’s map, in the work already mentioned, representing the disposition of the two antagonistic forces at Ridgeway, will at once be struck with the overwhelming numbers of that under the command of Col. Booker, compared with the compactness and fewness of the troops commanded by General O’Neill. In this chart we have the whole field studded, on the British side, with Highlanders, York Rifles, Trinity College Companies, University Rifles, the Queen’s Own and the 13th Field Battery, etc.; while on the side of the Army of the Irish Republic, as the diagram shows, we have but a handful of men, without artillery, and with but very few mounted officers. The circumstances under which the forces met, were favorable to Col. Booker, also; for not only had the British the advantage of a great superiority in numbers, stores and equipments, but they were engaged at their own doors, in the midst of a passive or friendly element, and with unlimited supplies and resources at their command; while, on the contrary, the men under General O’Neill were but poorly equipped, without supplies or proper ammunition—their bullets having, in some instances, to be pared on the field with a knife before they fitted the bore of their rifles—and were in the midst of an enemy’s country, surrounded on all sides by hostile battalions, and with but a slight hope of being reinforced before the enemy came down in overwhelming numbers upon them. This was a critical position, and well calculated to dismay any man less bold and courageous than O’Neill; but frightful as it was, he saw the necessity of accepting the situation. He remembered having, on the battle fields of the South, with but twenty men, defeated two hundred of a force under Hamilton, and run them in helpless disorder for a distance of thirteen miles; killing five of them with his own hand. He remembered, in addition, having, with a command of but fifty, charged, on the same fields, in defence of the American Union, two different regiments of the enemy, routed them, and recaptured the officers and guns of the Republic that had been previously taken by them; and remembering all this, his heart rose within him, and he felt that with his little band of Spartans, few as they were in number, he could work a double miracle when he met the tyrant of his name, his country and his race face to face. And so he did not stoop to measure the forces that were surrounding him; well knowing that, if all came to all, and that, if it were necessary for him to fall back upon the American shore, he could cut his way through them; as he was inclined to regard their numbers as but simple encumbrances to themselves; feeling, as he did, that they could be neither disciplined nor actuated by any proud impulses such as fired his own troops and his own bosom.
Buoyed with this spirit, and moved by the conviction that the eyes of the world were upon him, the first glimpse of the enemy was as one of sunshine to him; and as he looked around him and saw his brave officers and men towering and immoveable as cliffs in the presence of the angry deep, the strange fire so noticeable sometimes in his eye, blazed forth as though his soul went out in flame through each glaring orb; and the work of death had begun.
The battle of Ridgeway was commenced by skirmishers who were posted on both sides, among the woods and orchards with which that locality abounds; and although for some short period but little life was lost on the part of either the British or the Fenians, the daring of the latter had evidently confused and, in a degree, paralyzed the former from the first. In the woods, they gave the Highlanders a dreadful overhauling, and when pressed by numbers they steadily fell back upon the main body, with advantage to themselves and with loss to their opponents. When once aware of their position, and the great odds against them, in the incredible space of ten minutes, they threw up a breastwork of rails, from behind which they now began to deal the most deadly havoc amongst the enemy. The men engaged in more exposed positions, performed absolute miracles of valor, and charged the foe in the face of the most galling fire, until they actually touched their bayonets, and then poured in the murderous volley that shattered their ranks and strewed the field with their wounded and dying. As we learn from Major Denison, of the British forces, the Fenian officers were ever in front of their men, cheering them on to death or victory, and evincing such instances of true bravery as commanded the admiration of even those against whom they fought. Individual acts of the most terrible daring were performed by them, and so generally did the whole of O’Neil’s staff, including his gallant Aid-de-Camp, Lieut. Rudolph Fitzpatrick, as well as all the officers of the various companies, participate in the dreadful struggle, that even to this hour no writer has attempted to give any one of them pre-eminence over the other. And so of the rank and file, also. Scarce a single man of them, at one period, but was spattered with the blood of the enemy; and never did a solitary knot of them give way, for an instant, before any force that they were ordered to withstand. Wherever they moved the dead and wounded tumbled before them, until, fatigued by the frightful heat of the weather, they were, from time to time, constrained to pause in their dreadful work.
The engagement had continued for about an hour, when the brave Lieut. Lonergan bit the dust, while a cheer for Ireland struggled through the death rattle in his throat. He fell, a true hero and patriot, and well was his death avenged; for no sooner had its intelligence spread through his company, than its members became absolute tigers, and literally glutted themselves with blood. Then it was, that the Sun-burst carried through that hot field, from beginning to end, by Sergeant John Smith, of the 7th I.R.A., company G, might be seen flying where the enemy was thickest, surrounded by a struggling band, each of which was a host himself. Then it was, that the wild cry of “Erin go bragh!” smote on the ear of the foe like a death knell, paralyzed all their energies, and froze the warm current in their heart. At that moment a dozen men in green were worth a regiment of the material he fought against; and thus it was, that the enemy determined to mass all their forces against the gallant O’Neill, who stood like a rock amid the dreadful conflict, giving his orders with as much coolness as if he were dictating a letter; and, while the bullets whistled about him like hail, applauding the noble deeds of his men and officers, the next moment to be whirled into the dreadfulmeleehimself.
With the keen, quick eye of a soldier, O’Neill perceived the intention of his adversary, who had, now, as he saw clearly, made up his mind to mass all his force against the Fenian troops and flank them. At this point the Boys in Green were ordered to fall steadily back and take up a new position, some distance in the rear of their rail barricade. The movement was performed in the most masterly manner; while the enemy continued to extend his wings—both right and left. On perceiving it, however, he construed it, as it was intended he should, into a retreat, and paused for a moment to consider what was best to be done. While deliberating, however, O’Neill, who had in vain been for some time endeavoring to draw out his centre, perceiving that the moment had arrived, sounded the charge, and, the next instant, the whole compact body of the invaders, with himself and his officers at their head, were thundering down, with the sweep of the Cyclone, upon the weak and startled centre of the foe, crashing through it like a cavalcade of thunder bolts, and scattering the whole of the English forces like chaff before the wind!
In the twinkling of an eye the enemy was flying in every direction before the victorious army of the Irish Republic! In their ignoble flight they divested themselves of all the clothing they could decently spare, and of everything that could tend to impede their progress! The field was strown with their great coats, knapsacks, rifles, and musical instruments belonging to their bands. Their dead and dying were left unheeded, and in every direction lay the unmistakable evidences of their sudden disaster and hopeless defeat. The compactness and dreadful resolve of the force slung against them by O’Neill, and the masterly way in which the bolt was hurled, at once bid defiance to all their pre-conceived ideas of fighting, or of the wonders that could be attained by a handful of brave men, commanded by a dauntless and experienced soldier; so, that their rumored attempt at rallying is supposed to have originated in a desire on the part of their historian, to lessen the disgrace of their defeat in the eyes of the people of Canada; for it is well known, that so hot and heavy was the pursuit, that they not only had no time to rally, but so intent was each one of them on effecting his own personal safety, that all discipline was at an end; until the Fenians, on perceiving that they were not yet reinforced, felt it advisable, notwithstanding their success, to fall back on Fort Erie, for the purpose of keeping their line of communication open with the American shore.
And yet until this disaster had overtaken them, the British troops fought well, considering the incentives they had to stake their lives on the field of battle. Nor were the Queen’s Own, who suffered so severely in this tremendous charge, and who fled so panic-stricken before it, a whit behind, in courage, some of the companies who appear to have escaped with less censure from the Canadian public, in relation to the loss of this important field. The Queen’s Own, as we are creditably informed, came up well to the mark on more than one occasion; and only gave way before such a charge as that which carried the day at Fontenoy, and which was, at the period, absolutely irresistible.
Barry and his comrades of the Canadian Fort fought throughout the whole morning with the most heroic courage. In several hand to hand encounters he performed prodigies of valor, and once thought he perceived the Kid and Black Jack, together with Wilson whom he saw in their company at Newbiggin’s farm, fighting on the English side. In this he was not mistaken; for these three worthies, on discovering the superior force of the British, at once concealed their horses and wagon in a sheltered hollow hard by the field, and making a detour through the woods on the verge of which they were passing, joined in the engagement, against the men who had treated them so well but a few hours previously. This they accomplished immediately after Col. Starr had driven in the outposts of the enemy, and when they had ascertained that the English forces outnumbered the invaders to an extent which, as they supposed, rendered the success of the latter totally out of the question.
While on one occasion, Nicholas was engaged with a Highlander whom he was pressing hard, a ball grazed his shoulder, evidently fired stealthily from behind a neighboring tree. A glance in the direction revealed the form of the Kid retreating from the spot and seeking shelter behind another, around which were gathered a few of the enemy who were paying some attention to a wounded officer. This struck him as strange; but as he had other work in hand, he permitted his cowardly assailant to escape for the moment. Later in the day, however, he caught yet another sight of him, and was satisfied that he had made a second deadly attempt upon his life. In this way the matter stood touching this peculiar case, until the total rout of the forces and their retreat towards Ridgeway village; when Barry, left with a few men to look after the dead and wounded while the main body pursued the fugitives, had yet another opportunity of testing the kindly intentions of Smith; for while he and four or five others were collecting the dead into one particular spot beneath a huge elm, in the vicinity of a house near which the greatest carnage had taken place, another ball whizzed by his ear; and the next moment the door of the building opened and out rushed half a dozen men, armed to the teeth, and laying one of his party dead at his feet with the only bullet that had taken effect out of a volley that had been fired as they rushed forward to overwhelm him in a hand to hand struggle.
The assailants were now six to five, but Barry soon made the numbers more equal, and the fight becoming desperate, two of his antagonists closed with him, who appeared to be men of tremendous activity and great personal courage. What seemed strangest, however, in the whole of this sudden attack, was, all the party that rushed from the house were masked, although he was satisfied that one of them, at least, was the Kid. The contest had continued for about eight or ten minutes when one of his assailants was stretched at his feet by an unseen hand; the other taking immediate flight. He looked around,—a stranger stood by his side. He was a handsome young man dressed in the plain garb of a farmer. Anxious to learn how the rest of his comrades fared, while thanking his new ally for his timely assistance, he glanced in the direction in which they fought; all save one was wounded but their antagonists lay beside them dead or dying. Begging the stranger to render him some assistance in staunching the blood of those who still survived, and removing them to a shed belonging to the house hard by, he discovered that his fallen adversary, who lay quite senseless from the blow he had received, now seemed to be bleeding profusely from some wound inflicted by himself; although until that moment he had not noticed it. His enemy had fought with a long, keen dagger after he had discharged his rifle and thrown it away, while the fugitive used one of the ordinary rifle-bayonets in his attack. The superb swordsmanship of their intended victim, however, was more than a match for them, and would, in all probability have triumphed of itself had not the contest been broken in upon in the manner already described.
In the course of a very few moments, the sufferers were removed from out the broiling sun to the shed just mentioned, where they were cared for as well as circumstances would permit—the stranger passing to and from the adjoining house with the necessary bandages, water, etc.
While removing the masks of two of the assailing party, who appeared to be mortally wounded, for the purpose of giving them the draft of water they had so earnestly though feebly implored, as Barry suspected, one of them was the Kid. The other was Wilson, whose last midnight journey had evidently been performed, as he was sinking fast, and that, too, without having gratified his love of plunder in a single instance connected with the invasion from which he and his two companions had anticipated so much. Outside, beneath a huge elm, lay Black Jack stone dead, from a frightful bayonet wound in his throat. His mask had fallen off in his death struggles, which must have been frightful, judging from the manner in which his clothes were covered with dust and the way in which the earth was kicked up all around him. Never was a more horrible face turned in such hideous blindness on the sun. His eyes were staring wide open, and his huge mouth, fringed with blood-stained froth, seemed stretched in demoniacal laughter at some horrid and unearthly orgy in which he was about to join. The sight was actually appalling; and Barry turned away from it in utter loathing to minister to those who were yet within the reach of human aid.
Although, dangerously wounded, he found that, unlike the same number of their comrades who lay stretched on the green sward without, his two companions who had been brought to the earth without being killed, were not beyond the reach of hope. With their antagonists, however, it was different; and now that Barry perceived the Kid; or Smith as we shall now call him, was fast approaching his end, in the great anxiety that he felt concerning the fate of his beloved, he knelt beside him and implored him to give him any information that he might possess regarding her, and so atone, before he crossed the threshold of the grave, for any wrong that he might have been instrumental in doing her through the machinations of others.
The dying man raised his heavy eyelids for a moment and ere they dropped again, managed, as if by one last effort, to point towards the prostrate form of the principal antagonist of our hero, who still lay insensible a short distance from him. His chest labored wildly for a few seconds, but before he could ejaculate a single word, a sudden spirt of blood leaped from his mouth and he was dead. Wilson had passed away more slowly and less perceptibly. From the moment he had been removed to the shed he spoke but once; and that was when he uttered a feeble cry for water. On beholding the latter dead, the stranger, who had lent such timely aid to our hero, regarded the silent form with a curious expression of countenance, and then turned away towards the house. In the meantime, the man who had for so far lain insensible, began to recover slowly. Hitherto, his mask which hid but half his face, leaving his mouth and chin uncovered, had not been removed; but now, as if in some uneasy dream, his trembling hand tore it mechanically away, revealing, to the utter astonishment of Barry, the hooked nose and ghastly countenance of Greaves!
Had O’Neill a single troop of cavalry when he broke the British lines at Ridgeway, the 2d day of June, 1866, would have been the darkest that had ever occurred in the annals of Canada. He would have literally annihilated all the forces that were brought against him on that field, and struck such terror to the heart of the enemy, as to have still farther paralysed their volunteer service and destroyed the confidence of the Canadian people in the vaunted invincibility of the arms of England for many a long day, if not for all time to come. But owing to circumstances already referred to, he fought under every disadvantage possible to an invading army. Still, as the case stood, his triumph was not the less brilliant or decisive. He routed the enemy, horse and foot; and had he been in a position to dispose of prisoners, he could have taken a very large number with scarcely any effort; from the fact, that after the fearful charge that had broken through their lines, they became completely panic stricken and demoralized. As he pursued the flying forces towards Ridgeway, what he would have given for a few mounted riflemen or dragoons; but as a signal and glorious defeat was more his object than the spilling of blood, he now felt, unsustained as he was, it would be wise to fall back upon Fort Erie, in the hope that reinforcements had arrived there, although he was unable to leave even the smallest handful of a garrison to maintain the foothold he had so far achieved. Seeing there was nothing further to gain but everything to lose by remaining longer in a position he could not by any possibility maintain, in view of the hostile forces that he knew would soon be pouring down upon him from other quarters, he paused on the verge of the carnage that he might have wrought still further, and addressed himself to securing the safety of his little band of heroes and occupying some position on the frontier from whence he could, if hard set, effect his transit across the river, or take up a final stand, fighting until the last man fell in his ranks, if necessary to the success of any landings that he might learn of as having taken place on the Canadian shore at other points, or in view of the intention of the authorities at Buffalo to reinforce him, and enable him to pursue the campaign, so gloriously opened, with renewed hope and vigor.
The news of the disastrous defeat of the British arms spread like wild-fire; throwing the inhabitants in the immediate vicinity of Ridgeway, as well as those of the village itself, into a state of the most fearful consternation. Houses were barricaded and property concealed in the full anticipation that the conquerors would act upon the world-wide maxim, “to the victors belong the spoils.” But, as we have already seen, it was the government and not the peasantry or people of the country that O’Neill had come to overthrow. No better evidence of this could be afforded than that shown by the circumstance, that, although two infamous and relentless robbers, and their scarcely less culpable acquaintance and friend, Wilson, had, for two days and two nights, followed in the wake of his army, not a single opportunity was afforded them of joining any portion of his command in a stealthy raid upon the habitations or any of the people, or of taking an advantage of the confusion and lawlessness which almost invariably surround the camp of an invader. From first to last, his troops observed with singular fidelity, his order that the lives and property of the Canadians not found in arms against him, should be held as most sacred. And in no instance, although the temptations were various and marked, was this injunction violated. On this head, Major Denison himself is most explicit; and when we have the testimony of an enemy upon the subject, the most exacting incredulity cannot look for more conclusive evidence in the premises.
As already observed, when the rout and confusion of the English commenced, they fled in all directions; but their main body set off, at full speed, for Ridgeway, through which village, and for a mile beyond it, they were pursued by the Irish forces. As was to be expected, their wounded and dying strewed the way; while those who were thoroughly acquainted with the locality made their escape to the shelter of whatever woods or dwellings were to be found along the line of retreat, without actually bordering upon it. Amongst these latter were Greaves and the persons who made such a sudden and deadly attack upon Barry while engaged in looking after the dead and wounded that were found convenient to the house already referred to. This habitation ought to have been well known to one of the party at least; for it was neither more nor less than the residence of Wilson, in which Kate M’Carthy and Martha and her aunt had barricaded themselves, in the apartment of the former, after having secured the outer doors, when they heard the tide of war rolling towards them. Wilson, understanding how the case stood with them, when he found he could not gain admission, and being sensible that they could not hear his voice, hastily effected an entrance by a window in a sort of out kitchen, attached to the rear of the building, and soon admitted his companions; re-bolting the door, and running up stairs to warn the other inmates of the house not to speak or stir, but remain barricaded as they were, until they heard from him again. This done, he descended to where his comrades were, and was about to make some observation, when the Kid instantly drew the attention of Greaves to the party who were collecting the dead and wounded hard by, among whom he at once recognized Barry. In the twinkling of an eye, the countenance of Greaves was lit with an expression the most revolting; and turning to his companions he exclaimed in a low, hissing voice—
“Now, my countrymen, we can avenge ourselves in part, at least, for the disasters of the morning. There stand some of the most active and dangerous of the army of the invader, and it is for us to take signal vengeance on them, and not permit a single one of them to escape out of our hands. We must not risk firing upon them at a distance so great; as should we chance to miss a single shot, they would be sure to slip beyond our reach. Let us rush out upon them then, with such arms as we have at our command; and after giving them a volley pounce upon them knife in hand, for they appear quite unconscious of any impending danger. Above all things, do not let that officer escape. He is the most deadly enemy we have had to encounter to-day. Let him, at least, be despatched without fail, and one thousand dollars shall be distributed amongst you the moment I find him a corpse before my eyes.”
The Kid, Jack and Wilson understood all this; for the first of the villains had explained previously to the latter two, that Greaves was interested to an unaccountable extent, in the death of Barry; and had, on that very morning, before he left Ridgeway, promised him a round sum if he managed to despatch him in any way; whether by stealth, or otherwise. This he attempted, as we have already seen; but hitherto without the desired effect; so that, now, when his game was within his reach, and where he felt that he should be the gainer, no matter by whom our hero was laid low, he immediately fell into this second proposition, as did all the others who stood around him.
In a few moments, then, Wilson procured the masks already noticed; they being a portion of his stock in trade, and loading the three rifles they had at their command, the door was stealthily opened and the assault made, which had resulted in such disaster to themselves.
When Barry had recovered from the utter surprise occasioned by the presence of Greaves, and overcome the speechless astonishment into which it had thrown him, he knelt down beside the wounded man, and began to examine into the extent of his injuries. At first a few flesh wounds about the shoulders and arms were all that he could discover; and as these had bled freely, he fancied that the feeble condition of the wretch, was attributable simply to a loss of blood; and, now, that his wounds had been staunched, he believed he should gradually recover strength, so as to be able to offer some explanation of his presence in that part of the Province, as well as of the circumstances in which he now found himself. On a closer examination, however, and just about half an inch below the nipple of his left breast, the young soldier perceived a small discolored wound, evidently made with the point of his own sword during the struggle that had just terminated, and from which not a single drop of blood had flowed, outwardly at least. Here, without a doubt, all the danger lay; and as our hero was not versed in injuries, beyond the reach of external applications, all he could do was to bathe the bitter, little, blue or discolored orifice—the lips of which seemed to be pressed together in a vicious sort of manner—in some of the water that had been previously procured at the adjoining house, when the wounded men were removed from the open field. During this operation the eyes of Greaves were steadily fixed upon him, and when he had again bathed the wound and adjusted the head of the unfortunate sufferer on a pillow made of some hay found in one corner of the shed, the lips of the patient became as it were suddenly unsealed, while the light of a larger intelligence, rushed full into his eyes. At this period the wounded companions of our hero were comparatively easy, on the temporary couch made for them by the stranger, just before he disappeared and entered the dwelling a second time; so that, for the moment, there was not much to distract his attention from anything that Greaves might vouchsafe to say, some terrible foreboding having just rushed into his mind, based upon the dying intimation of Smith, that the man who lay thus helpless and for aught he knew dying before him, was in some way connected with the fate of his betrothed.
Scarcely had the conviction seized upon him, when Greaves motioned him to draw nearer. On eagerly complying with the request, he bent his ear almost to the lips of the sufferer, who breathed with great difficulty, and whose voice was scarcely audible, so weak had he become. As though by some effort of his indomitable will, however, he managed to collect all his energies into his tongue and throat; and after whispering through his compressed and pallid lips the single word “listen!” began slowly as follows:
“I am Edward Philip Darcy. I have lost, for I know that my hour has come!”
At the mention of the name “Darcy,” Barry sprang to his feet! Before him lay the son of the man to whose machinations all Kate’s poverty and hardships were clearly traceable. He it was that was now concerned in the Chancery suit, the decision of which was to be replete with such serious results, as he presumed, to Kate. His father had been dead for some time, and had bequeathed his interest in the case to him! He was the only person living who could stand in the way of the property it involved being placed in the hands of its lawful heir; for the claims of Darcy, whatever they might be, expired with this, his only son, and the last of his name and race. The consideration was startling in the extreme; but as our hero saw how necessary it was to command his feelings, and listen to whatever Greaves, or Darcy, as we shall now call him, intended to say, he resumed his position and listened, as the wounded man continued:—
“I worshipped gold and power; and as there was some fear of the suit, of which you have often heard, being decided against as, on the death of my father, I stepped into his shoes, as a man who could make himself useful to the Government, and as one, in these troublous times, pre-eminently calculated to dip into the secrets of Fenianism at home and abroad, and apprise the British authorities of its power, aims and objects, as well as make them acquainted with all its plans and prospects. Although I now surmise I had really to do with the Privy Council itself, I was ostensibly employed by an important official connected with the Castle of Dublin, who, besides paying me liberally for my services, promised to influence the Court of Chancery in my favor, touching the decision now pending; provided that, after doing all I could to unearth the leaders and plans of Fenianism in Ireland, I crossed the Atlantic and commenced operations upon the Brotherhood in America, of which the Canadian government seemed unable to say much that was definite, however they might have apprehended mischief from this quarter. It was known at home, that but little confidence could be placed in the efficiency and honesty of a Cabinet that tolerated a shuffling inebriate at its head; so that from the contradictory official documents reaching the Castle from Canada, through the Imperial authorities, it was, I suppose, deemed advisable to send me out to learn something of the true state of the case. Influenced thus, I set about my work with right good will; and after doing what I could in Ireland, started for this country, with Fenian credentials that, I need not inform you, were obtained through the treason of one of the Organization who had gained admission into the Brotherhood for the simple purpose of betraying it; but who was not sufficiently deep in its plans and confidence to damage it mortally.
“But the strongest inducement I had to visit America was the circumstance of Kate McCarthy’s having emigrated to that country, and a desire which I had long felt of gaining her affections and, if possible, making her my wife; for notwithstanding all the promises of the Castle, I was fearful that the Chancery suit would go against me—a suspicion heightened by the conviction of my lawyer. I knew, of course, all about your engagement to her, but being aware of your having entered the army, and of your having, through an adverse fate, been separated from her by two seas, I thought that I should be able to estrange her feelings and love from you, and make her mine before you again saw her face. But here I had deceived myself. She was not to be moved, and I was repulsed at every point, until, maddened by repeated failures, I determined to make her mine by force. Under the name of Edward Lauder, I first was introduced to her, having managed to trace her from Quebec to Toronto, after rendering good service to the home government in the former city. From the first moment she beheld me, she seemed to entertain an aversion towards me; and when she became aware of my intentions regarding herself, and heard my repeated insinuations touching the general faithlessness and bad character of private soldiers on foreign service, all semblance of cordiality was at an end between us; and soon, perceiving that her friends favored my suit, she left Toronto and took up her abode with some relatives in Buffalo.”
Here the wounded man became faint and silent; but Nicholas, anxious to hear all he had to say, bathed his brow and moistened his lips with the water which still stood in a large wooden vessel by his side. This seemed to refresh and revive his spirits; so that he soon continued, although with increasing difficulty.
“I knew that your regiment was stationed in the city where I first met you; and the thought struck me, that if I could separate you both forever, by betraying you into some act that would consign you to a dungeon or penal servitude for life, or else make away with you secretly, I should have some hope of accomplishing my designs regarding her; and, in case the Chancery suit was decided against me, reap the full advantages of it after all.
“With this scheme deep within me, I followed her to Buffalo, and there became acquainted with the two men that I saw fall a short time since, who had engaged with me, for a certain sum, to keep their eyes upon all her movements whenever I was absent from that city, and obey me in everything, even to her forcible abduction into Canada, if necessary. These men I knew to be desperate characters; so when I made this arrangement with them, and was well assured that they would carry it out if needs be, I started at once in your direction to see what opportunities might there present themselves in furtherance of the design that now seemed to absorb my whole being.
“A man like me, easily found out your city-whereabouts; and, as you are already aware, shortly after my arrival I formed your acquaintance and that of O’Brien, whom I previously learned to be a relative of Miss McCarthy, to whom, since you had been quartered in the Fort, she had already paid a couple of visits. Soon learning your Fenian tendencies, and hearing that you had applied for your discharge and expected to receive it immediately, I determined if possible, to prevent your becoming a freeman on British soil, and to goad you into desertion; as it was rumored, that your regiment was soon to be called home, and knowing that you would never accompany it, even though your discharge were denied you. My object then was, to do, what I actually did do the morning I accompanied you to the Fort. While you were getting ready for parade I managed to exchange a few words with your commanding officer, showed him my credentials from the Castle, and told him that you sought your discharge only for the purpose of joining a Fenian army now about to invade the province; with the further view of placing them in possession of all you knew of the weak points of the Fort. The theory worked like a charm,—you were denied your discharge; and now I knew you would desert. In this, however, I was determined to help you; and, at the same time, cause your betrothed to be lured in some way into Canada, and consigned to some safe, out-of-the-way keeping, where no one should know of her, until I made my appearance as if by accident before her; and where I knew you would not be likely to seek her, from the fact, that once you were a deserter you would be out-lawed forever from British soil.
“You yourself furnished the means of this abduction in a manner the most innocent. You will recollect the note sealed with a peculiar device, that you gave me to the deserter concealed in the city in which you were stationed, telling him to entrust himself wholly, and without question to whomsoever presented it. This note, after exhibiting it to your friend, I retained and perceiving that it would answer my purpose, as it mentioned no names, I enclosed it at once to my agents in Buffalo, instructing them to present it to Miss McCarthy, and without a moment’s delay, convey her across the river to some secluded spot, where she was to be held at all hazards, until further orders from me, or until I was able to visit her myself. My injunctions were obeyed, and all was well—you had deserted and Kate McCarthy was in my power!”
At this point of the infamous revelation, Barry writhed in the most fearful agony, and was on the eve of strangling the villain that lay helpless before him; but his good angel, rushing to the rescue, restored him to reason once more; and while great beads of perspiration stood on his brow, he endeavored to compose himself to hear the terrible recital to its close.
“But,” continued Darcy, “after all my generalship you are master of the field, and she cannot fail to become the possessor of the property justly or otherwise so long estranged from her, although I fear it is already embarrassed with heavy costs.”
“But where is she now?” exclaimed Barry, as the gasping man finished his terrible narrative.
“I know not,” whispered the other with an effort. “As I had not an opportunity of paying the stipulated sum to the men who undertook her abduction, they kept the place of her concealment secret from me until I should perform my part of the contract, which I could have done this day, only for the fate that has overtaken us. There is, however, no doubt of her being in the Province, and, likely, somewhere in the very region where we now are.”
“But,” he whispered, with increasing difficulty and spasmodic interruptions, “I feel as if I were suffocating! Water! Water! Oh! God!” And with a bound that almost brought him to his feet, he sprang clean from the ground on which he lay; and the next moment fell back heavily, a corpse!
And so perished the four men, who scarce an hour previously were as full of life and vigor as their hearts were of evil thoughts and designs. There can be no doubt, that they fell through the instrumentality, unconscious as it was, of the very individuals whom they had injured; differing only in their shades of criminality. In other relations, besides the one to which their fate may be mainly attributed, they were doubtless guilty to an enormous extent. Black Jack, Smith and Wilson were unquestionably old offenders; the two former having the heavy scent of blood about them; while Darcy or the pretended Lauder or Greaves, whatever his antecedents may have been, showed himself capable of any atrocity known to the history of crime. The cup of their iniquity was full; or they had not fallen so signally, thus. How steadily the avenging angel follows in the footsteps of the wretch who makes war upon humanity or does continual violence to the divine spark which, in a greater or less degree, illumes the breast of every human being born into the world. Throughout the whole of their infamous career, these men were well apprised of the fact, that they were engaged in open rebellion against God and Nature, and thus it was, that they were cut off in their prime, without one sympathetic tear, to soothe their last moments or hallow their graves.
Such were the meditations of Barry, as he stood over the inanimate frame of his implacable foe; but soon awaking from his revery, he felt how dreadful to know that his beloved was, perhaps at that very moment, suffering in captivity or exposed to dangers consequent upon the disturbed state of the country at some point, where, now that her persecutors, who had at least provided for her daily sustenance, were dead, she might, on this fact becoming known, be subjected to further injuries, or wrongs that might be irreparable. The thought maddened him; and he was groaning aloud, in the agony of his spirit, when his ears were arrested with the returning tumult of O’Neill’s forces, after their having made the second of June, 1866, memorable in the annals of Canada, and those of Irish Independence. Gazing steadily for a moment on the terribly distorted features of his fallen enemy, he turned towards the wide shed-door to make some arrangements regarding the removal of his wounded comrades, when his opportune friend again emerged from the house, and rejoined him as he was stepping across the threshold.
“How fares it with your antagonist, now?” enquired the stranger as he cast a hurried glance towards the body of Darcy, not knowing that its spirit had already taken its flight forever.
“Dead!” returned Barry. “They who assailed us but a short time ago are all gone to their last home, save the man who made his escape on your arrival and interference, whoever he may be.”
“That’s sharp practice,” rejoined the other; “but in my opinion they richly deserved what they got, for they fought as murderers and not as men.”
“Would to heaven,” returned Nicholas, “that one of them at least had escaped the fearful chastisement inflicted upon him; for his death has enshrouded in darkness a question which presses heavily upon my heart, and one that I have no means of solving. But pray, sir,” he continued, “do you reside in this vicinity, and if you do, perhaps you would be kind enough to say, whether you have heard, recently, of the arrival of a strange lady in this locality, who had been lured from her home and friends under false pretenses; and who is, as I now have every reason to believe, in questionable hands?”
“May I ask your name?” returned the stranger, without replying to the question, and eyeing Barry from head to foot, “and may I, in addition, inquire what is the name of the lady to whom you allude?”
“My name,” replied our hero, “is Nicholas Barry, and the name of the lady is Miss Kate M’Carthy.”
“Mr. Barry,” hastily observed the stranger, extending his hand, “my name is Henry Evans, and my kinswoman, Kate M’Carthy, is well and now in safe keeping.”
At the mention of the name, Evans, and the assurance that his betrothed was safe and well, the heart of Berry so bounded within him, that after the blood had poured itself in one mighty torrent through his whole frame and blazed over his face and brow for a moment, he became as pale as death, and had not his newly found friend leaped forward and caught him in his arms, he should have fallen fainting to the ground. Recovering himself speedily, however, he leaned against the huge door-post at his side, and, breathing with more regularity, soon became cool and collected.
Evans could well understand this sudden emotion. His own heart was just in the vein to sympathize with it; so, in a moment the subtle freemasonry of kindred spirits was established between them.
Who can explain it? Here was a brave, young fellow, with the heart of a lion, who had faced death in various shapes but an hour or so previously—who had within the brief space of two days engaged hand to hand in the most dreadful encounters with the enemy, without experiencing the slightest sense of fear, or condescending to yield a single inch of ground where he had set down his foot—here, we say, we see him succumb at once, and rendered as helpless as a child at the mere mention of a woman, and the assurance of her safety, although not by any means thoroughly satisfied of her being in anything like imminent danger. We shall not attempt to analyse the subtle and powerful influences at work in such mysterious cases; but simply content ourselves with the observation, that men who are susceptible of such influences, and who strike at once to the first tap of their drum, are not notorious for any great deficiency when brought face to face with a more tangible and terrible enemy. And so thought Henry Evans as both he and Nicholas sallied forth; the former to report to the gallant O’Neill, and the latter to re-enter the house already so often referred to, where Barry agreed to join him when he had seen the hero of Ridgeway.