The president directed Mr. Lawless, the prisoner's solicitor, to be sent for.
On Mr. Lawless entering the court, the president said that Mr. McMechan had withdrawn from the case, and he wished to tell him that he would give half an hour, or any reasonable time, to provide another counsel if he thought proper.
Mr. Lawless said he was very sorry for what had occurred between Mr. McMechan and the Court, but as he was senior counsel in all the court-martial cases, he could not, according to the etiquette of the profession, withdraw the case from him, nor was he at all inclined to do so, as he had full confidence in whatever course he (Mr. McMechan) thought right to adopt.
The President.Have you any application to make on behalf of the prisoner?
Mr. Lawless said he had no application to make.
The President.Under these circumstances the trial must proceed without counsel.
Colonel, the Hon. S.J.G. Calthorpe, 5th Dragoon Guards, was examined to prove that the prisoner had not given him notice of an intended mutiny in her Majesty's forces in Ireland.
Sergeant Alsopp and Sergeant Miller of the 5th Dragoon Guards were examined to prove the desertion of the prisoner, and the making away with regimental necessaries.
The prisoner was placed on his defense, and stated that his counsel having left him, he did not know what to do; he could get no other counsel now, and felt inclined to throw himself on the mercy of the Court.
The president said he would receive his defense in the morning, and adjourned the further hearing of the case in order to give the prisoner time to prepare it.
The trial of Martin Hogan was resumed.
Mr. Lawless was present, and handed in a written statement to the president.
The President.Before reading this, I am anxious to say, that I most emphatically disclaim any intention whatever of having said anything disrespectful, or that I intended annoying the prisoner's counsel; and I wish to say that if I should at any time—
Mr. Lawless.The prisoner's counsel is outside sir. Will you allow him to be present?
President.Certainly.
Mr. McMechan then entered the room, when the president said, "I will repeat the words I have just said, which were these: That I desire most emphatically to disclaim any intention whatever of saying anything disrespectful to the prisoner's counsel, or any other person engaged in this court. If at any time I imagined I did so, I should be very sorry for it. I would be the last to offend any one."
Mr. McMechan.I am perfectly satisfied, sir.
Mr. Lawless.We will withdraw that statement, sir.
The statement was handed back, and Mr. McMechan, instructed by Mr. Lawless, remained to defend the prisoner.
The prosecution was then closed.
The trial of Private Robert Cranston was one of the longest. It was held in the Victoria Library, Colonel Brett presiding. Cranston was arraigned on the following charges, First: For mutinous conduct in having at Dublin, on the 18th February, 1866, come to the knowledge of an intended mutiny in her Majesty's troops then quartered in Richmond barracks, Dublin, and not giving information of the said intended mutiny to his commanding officer.
Second charge: For conduct to the prejudice of good order and discipline in the following instances,—First instance: For having at Dublin, in the month of December, 1865, endeavored to induce Private Foley, 64th Regiment, to join the illegal society called the Fenian Brotherhood, having for its object the overthrow by force and violence of her Majesty's government in Ireland. Second instance: For having at Dublin, in the month of January, 1866, endeavored to induce Private Thomas Morrison, 61st, to join an illegal society called the Fenian Brotherhood, having for its object the overthrow by force and violence of her Majesty's government in Ireland. Third instance: For having at Dublin, on the 17th February, 1866, used the following language to Private Abraham, 61st Regiment: "An outbreak will take place in a few days. I am to get a sworn member of the Fenian Society in each of the barrack rooms in Richmond barracks to put a bit of sponge into the nipples of all the rifles belonging to the men who are not Fenians, and thereby render them useless. When the regimentis called out to meet the Fenians, the Fenians will advance close up to it; the men of the 61st who belong to the Fenians will not fire on them, and the others who are loyal will not be able; and the Fenians amongst the 61st will then go over to their party and at once fire on those who refuse to join the society."
Third charge: For having in December, 1865, and in January and February, 1866, at Dublin, knowingly received and entertained Thomas Chambers, 61st Regiment, a deserter from the said regiment, and not giving notice to his commanding officer.
The assistant adjutant-general, the Hon. Col. Fielding, prosecuted, assisted by Dr. Townsend.
Mr. McMechan, with Mr. Lawless as attorney, appeared for the prisoner.
Deputy Judge-Advocate.Have you any objection to be tried by the president, or by any other member of this court?
Prisoner.None, sir.
The charges having been read by the deputy judge-advocate, the prisoner pleaded not guilty.
The prosecutor having stated the case for the prosecution, witnesses were called and examined.
Head Constable Talbot was examined, and deposed that he was present at Fenian meetings in December, 1865, and January and February, 1866.
Did the soldiers take part in the proceedings of those meetings?
Prisoner objected.
Deputy Judge-Advocate.The particular part taken by soldiers cannot be specified; only the fact that they took part, if they did so.
Were they present when the objects were discussed?—Yes.
Private James Meara examined by the prosecutor: I have belonged to the 1st Battalion of the King's Regiment (8th) for five years. I have known the prisoner since August 1865; in December, after Christmas, I met him in Hoey's public house in Bridgefoot Street. On that occasion there were also present several civilians, Fenian centres, and some soldiers. I was a member of the Fenian Society. There was to have been a rising of the Irish Fenians in the army. I was at several Fenian meetings in the month of December, 1865, at Hoey's; and in January, 1866, at Barclay's public house in James's Street; and in March, 1866, at Shaughnessy's public house at Newbridge, and also at Tunny's public house, Barrack Street, in August, 1865. At Tunny's, in August, 1865, I met William Francis Roantree, the prisoner Cranston, and several others, Baines and Rynd. At Shaughnessy's I met Baines, Doyle of the 61st, and some of the 4th Dragoon Guards. At Hoey's I met Chambers of the 61st, Wilson, Hogan, and Keatinge of the 5th Dragoons, a few of the 87th, Devoy, Williams, Rynd, and Baines. At the meeting in Hoey's in December, a rising in the army was discussed. Several men of the 61st were brought down to be sworn by Devoy and Chambers, and I saw the prisoner take anactive part in the meeting. I was never arrested on a charge of being connected with the Fenian Society.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was last examined as a witness at Green Street. I don't know whether I was believed or not. Kearney was not tried for firing a shot at me. He was not acquitted. I was sworn a Fenian by Thomas Baines. The oath I took, as I remember, was as follows: "I, in the presence of the Almighty God, do solemnly swear allegiance to defend the Irish republic, now virtually established, to take up arms in its defense at a moment's warning, to defend its integrity and independence; and further to exterminate the Saxon out of the land, to keep all secrets and truths commended to me, and to obey my superior officers and those placed over me." I swore to defend the Queen against all enemies.
Did you swear to fight against her?—I decline to answer that question.
The deputy judge-advocate told the witness that unless he apprehended that what he should say in reply would subject him to a criminal prosecution he should answer the question.
Witness.I understand you, sir. According to the Fenian oath I was sworn to fight against her, although in the heart I did not mean it.
After swearing to defend her, and afterwards swearing to fight against her, say candidly whether anything you swear is deserving of credit or belief?
Deputy Judge-Advocate.I think that is for the Court to infer.
Witness.I decline to answer the question.
The prisoner having pressed for a reply, the court was cleared, and, on reopening, the deputy judge-advocate announced the opinion of the Court to be that the question was as to a matter of inference, and not to be answered by the witness.
Cross-examination continued. I was at the Curragh in March. I was sworn a Fenian in March, 1865.
When did you first give information of an intended mutiny to your commanding officer?—I decline to answer that question.
Deputy Judge-Advocate.You must answer it.
Prosecutor.Answer the question.
Witness.I gave information in March or April, I am not sure which, this year.
Cross-examination continued. I decline for the safety of the officers to say to whom I first gave information.
State under what circumstances, without mentioning names.—For the purpose of injuring the Fenians, and the leaders, and so forth, to the utmost of my power, I came forward from the motives of loyalty and love of justice.
Reëxamined by the prosecutor. I was, in fact, fired at, as I stated in my cross-examination.
By the Court. The intentions to mutiny existed in the months of January and March, 1866, and the prisoner was aware of them. I was fired at and wounded, and the persons who did it were Fenians.
Private John Abraham examined by the prosecutor. The witness being a little deaf, the questions were, by direction of the Court, read out near to him by Major Gordon. He deposed that he had been twenty-three years in the 61st Regiment. Some time since the 17th or 18th of January he met the prisoner, whom he had known close upon two years, at Hoey's public house. On that occasion there were present Private Harrington, Foley, Kenny, Priestly, Cranston, the prisoner, and Chambers, the deserter, all of the 61st, and a lot of cavalry of the 5th Dragoon Guards, and a good number of civilians, including one that he had enlisted in the 60th Rifles. Chambers shook witness by the hand and asked him how he was getting on, and he said very well, and asked Chambers how was he getting on, and he said very well, that he had drawn £10 6s. to-day, which was better pay than he had had when he was in the 61st. The prisoner and Chambers went out to the top of the stairs, and witness did not hear what passed between them.
Had you ever any conversation on the parade-ground at Richmond barracks with the prisoner in February last.—Yes, I was on the parade-ground when the prisoner, Cranston, came up to me and said, "How are you getting on, countryman?" "Very well," said I: "Cranston, how are you getting on?" "First-rate," he said. I said, "I think things are very slow, or rather dull, this weather." "No," he said, "they are not; I think things are getting on very well, for there is going to be an outbreak in the course of two or threedays, and I can destroy every rifle that is in the regiment." "Oh," said I, "that is easily enough done." Said he, "I will have a sworn Fenian to go into each room and to stuff the chambers of the nipples of the arms belonging to the soldiers who are not Fenians with fine sponge." He said that when we should be called out, we should get the word to load and the soldiers who were Fenians would fire over the heads of the civilian Fenians, and that the arms belonging to the soldiers not Fenians would then be all stopped. Of course he thought I was a Fenian at the time. At that time the sergeant-major gave the word to take up the covering, and interrupted the conversation. No other person was present at it, which to the best of my recollection took place about the 17th February. On the same evening I saw and spoke to Sergeant-Major Young of the 61st.
A few other questions having been asked the witness, the court was adjourned to this morning at half past ten o'clock.
The trial of Private Cranston was resumed yesterday morning by the court-martial sitting in the Victoria Library, shortly before eleven o'clock.
Private Abraham cross-examined by the prisoner. The last time I saw Doyle was this morning in the square of this barrack. There were five or six men present. I was enlisted in Lisburn.
Were you in the habit of going to houses frequented by Fenians?—I was after Cranston spoke to me; I don't remember when I first went to anysuch house. I might have been in such houses before Christmas last, but I knew nothing of their character. I saw you at the Curragh, but I can't state in whose company, as I did not look after you to see in whose company you were. It was after the depot joined headquarters. I might have conversed and drank with you there, but I don't remember if I did. I have drank with hundreds, and I don't remember every man I drank with. To the best of my belief the conversation in the canteen at the Curragh took place more than a year ago. I understood that in case of a rising the Fenians of the 61st were to fight against the Queen, when Cranston told me so. I did not when in the canteen at the Curragh understand that the object of the Fenians was to put down the Queen's government and establish a republic.
What did you then understand its object to be?—Well, I did not take any notice what it was to be then or understand anything about it. I used to hear several talking about Fenianism. I did not take any notice of it then. I was asked to become a Fenian and refused.
Why?—Why, because I thought they were no good. I thought there was harm in them. When asked to join, I had no curiosity to learn their objects. After the conversation in the canteen at the Curragh, I thought they were not loyal subjects; but when they were all talking about Fenianism, and I did not know that it might not be a humbug, I think I gave information about the conversationin the canteen at the Curragh, but I cannot answer when. My commanding officer was Colonel Redmond, and I gave him information of everything that I knew, after Cranston spoke to me about the outbreak. I reported to him in Richmond barracks, and Cranston was there then. I think that was in January. I never made any report while I was at the Currag myself. I had always plenty of conversation that I forgot. I reported all that I remembered.
Will you swear that you ever mentioned to your commanding officer anything whatever about the conversation in the canteen at the Curragh?—No, I will not. I can swear that I reported to some officer. I cannot say whether it was the commanding officer or not.
Do not you know you never did?—No, I do not. I think I made a statement to Captain Whelan. I made no statement in writing, because I can neither read nor write.
The remainder of the testimony was largely by informers whom Cranston had induced to take the Fenian oath, and charged him with treasonable language.
Private Meara, 8th Regiment, was the principal witness against Private James Wilson, whose court-martial came in August. Meara was one of the witnesses who betrayed O'Reilly. He testified in the case of Wilson that he was a sworn member of the Fenian Brotherhood, and attended meetings at various places.
He knew the prisoner and met him about Christmas, 1865, at Hoey's public house, in Bridgefoot Street; also met a man named Williams there. The prisoner went up to Williams and said there was a body of deserters in Dublin who were kicking up a row for their pay, and Williams told him that he had paid them. Williams said that he had told the deserters to kick up a row. Corporal Chambers of the 61st was present, and Devoy. Williams and Devoy were Fenian agents, the former being occupied swearing in soldiers. He was an officer of the Fenians besides. Devoy held the same rank as Williams, and higher if anything. He heard the prisoner on one occasion speak to a man in his regiment about making prisoners of Sir Hugh Rose and the Lord Lieutenant. Civilians were present at the time. The prisoner said that Sir Hugh Rose was a more important man to make a prisoner of than the Lord Lieutenant, and that it would be easily done. A man named Hogan was there, and was dressed in civilian's clothes. Corporal Chambers was also dressed in civilian's clothes. At another public house in the month of January witness said to prisoner that his regiment would soon leave Dublin, and the latter replied that it would not leave until the green flag would be flying. I have seen a man named Barrett of the 5th Dragoon Guards, at Hoey's, and other men, whose names I don't know.
Private Goggins, 5th Dragoon Guards, deposed that he was quartered in Dublin on the 17th of January, 1866. He was in a public house in Clare Lane, kept by a man named Cullen. The prisoner was there, and aman named Devoy, and another civilian who was represented as the man who was to command the Fenian cavalry when it broke out. He asked the men how they could get their horses and accoutrements out of barracks, and Wilson said by making a dash at the gate. The man said he was in command of cavalry guerrillas under General Morgan. He said that the men he commanded used to dismount and fight on foot when their swords were broken, and he asked the men in the public house if they could do so, too. Witness was in a public house in Longford, kept by a man named Hughes, in April or May, 1865. Went into the house with, the prisoner; prisoner handed witness a book, and asked him "to swear to take up arms when called upon." Witness took the oath, thinking there was no harm in it. "It's all right, now," he said, "you are a Fenian, and for your own sake, as well as mine, keep it."
Witness said: "Jim, you know I have prize money to draw, and you should not have taken me in that way."
In November, 1865, the prisoner told him to meet him at Hoey's public house in Bridgefoot Street. There were two civilians in the room who spoke of expected arrivals of Americans. There was plenty of beer there, but witness paid for none of it, and saw no soldiers pay for it. The prisoner was dressed in civilian's clothes in the public house in Clare Lane.
To the Court. I did not consider myself a sworn Fenian after taking the oath I have mentioned.
Patrick Foley, late 5th Dragoon Guards, deposed that he was in Hoey's public house on the 17th of January last, and met the prisoner there. He was a deserter from the regiment. The American captain asked how many Fenians there were in the 5th Dragoon Guards, and Devoy said about one hundred. Hogan, who was a deserter, said he could give a list of the names. The American spoke of getting horses out of the barracks, and how they should manœuvre in cavalry fighting.
Wilson declined to offer any defense. As for Private Thomas Hassett, he defiantly pleaded guilty to treason.
All the men were sentenced to death, but the penalty was subsequently commuted to life imprisonment, and was finally further commuted to penal servitude.
CHAPTER VI
BANISHMENT TO AUSTRALIA
Afterbeing convicted of mutiny in her Majesty's forces in Ireland, the men spent weary months in hideous English prisons. One day the keys rattled in the dungeon doors; they were marched out in double irons, chained together with a bright, strong chain. They were taken aboard the convict ship Hougoumont, where the chains were knocked off and they were ordered below.
There were sixty-three political prisoners on the Hougoumont, and they were the first sent out to Australia since the Irish uprising in 1848. They were likewise the last ever sent to the colony. Of these prisoners fifteen had been soldiers, and they were placed with the criminals in the fore part of the ship at night, although they were permitted to spend the days with the political prisoners.
Of the horrors of a convict ship experience it is unnecessary to say more than to quote O'Reilly, who was one of the unfortunate company on the Hougoumont.
"Only those who have stood within the bars," says he, "and heard the din of devils and the appalling sounds of despair, blended in a diapasonthat made every hatch-mouth a vent of hell, can imagine the horrors of the hold of a convict ship."
Strapped to the foremast was the black gaff with its horrid apparatus for tricing unruly men up for flogging, and above, tied around the foremast, ever before their eyes, was a new hempen halter, "which swung mutineers and murderers out over the hissing sea to eternity."
Every night the exiles, Catholic and Protestant, joined in a prayer which ran as follows:—
"O God, who art the arbiter of the destiny of nations and who rulest the world in thy great wisdom, look down, we beseech thee, from thy holy place on the sufferings of our poor country. Scatter her enemies, O Lord, and confound their evil projects. Hear us, O God, hear the earnest cry of our people, and give them strength and fortitude to dare and suffer in their holy cause. Send her help, O Lord, from thy holy place. And from Zion protect her. Amen."
The Hougoumont reached Freemantle, after a dreary voyage, at three o'clock on the morning of January 10, 1868. "Her passengers could see," writes James Jeffrey Roche in his "Life of O'Reilly," "high above the little town and the woodland about it, the great white stone prison which represents Freemantle's reason for existence. It was 'The Establishment;' that is to say the government; that is to say, the advanced guard of Christian civilization in the wild bush. The native beauty of the place is marred by the straggling irregularity of the town, as it is blighted by the sight and defiled by the touch of the great criminal establishment."
THE JAIL AT FREEMANTLE, WHERE THE PRISONERS WERE CONFINED
Then the convicts heard the appalling code of rules, with the penalty for violation, which was usually death; and then they were assigned to the road parties, and from daylight to dark, in the heat which made the cockatoos in the trees motionless and the parrots silent, they blazed their way through the Australian bush and forest.
The present was made horrid by the companionship of desperate and degraded men, "the poison flower of civilization's corruption," and the future seemed hopeless.
Meanwhile James Wilson sent out an appeal for rescue. He sent it to John Devoy in America.
CHAPTER VII
O'REILLY'S ESCAPE
Themen to whom reference has been made in the preceding chapter were not the only Irish political prisoners. In 1876 there were seventeen still in prison for the attempted revolution of 1866 and 1867. The leaders had been pardoned, but this fact only emphasized the injustice to the men who had been swayed by love for Ireland to follow, and who were still paying the penalty of their devotion.
Some of them, and the number included Michael Davitt, were in prison in England. Some had been pardoned, some had been released by death. John Boyle O'Reilly had escaped. He had been in the convict settlement rather more than a year, and had been granted a few poor privileges on account of his ability and good conduct. He assisted one of the officers in his clerical work, and was appointed a "constable," with the duty of carrying dispatches from station to station and conducting refractory convicts in the road-gang to the prison.
But there was no promise of escape in this liberty, for there were but two avenues open, the trackless bush and the ocean. Suicide was better than flight to the bush; for if the convict could hide from thetrained "trackers," natives with a keener intelligence and skill in tracking men than the blood-hounds of the South, the only alternative was death from hunger and thirst.
Yet O'Reilly reached a point of desperation where death seemed almost preferable to the awful associations and weary routine which made the life a horror to the poet. But when he told his plans to Rev. Father McCabe, whose parish was the bush country, and whose life work among the prisoners is a precious memory of good influence, the thoughtful man said, "It is an excellent way to commit suicide. Don't think of that again. Let me think out a plan for you."
After dreary months the good priest sent a man named Maguire, who promised to arrange with one of the New Bedford whaling captains who were expected with their vessels at Bunbury in February—it was then December—to secrete him aboard. Two months went by, and O'Reilly had now become so impatient that, hearing that three whaleships had put into Bunbury, he had determined to venture alone. That day Maguire came to him again with the information that Captain Baker of the whaling bark Vigilant of New Bedford had agreed to take him on board if he fell in with him outside Australian waters.
On an evening in February O'Reilly started for a hiding-place in the woods, and lay down beneath a great gum-tree at the woodside to await Maguire and another friend. At about midnight he heard "St. Patrick's Day" whistled.
It was the sweetest music he ever heard, for it was the signal of the men who had come to release him from a horrid captivity.
They rode for hours until they reached a dry swamp near the sea. Then they waited until a boat was brought. At daylight sturdy oarsmen had carried him almost out of sight of land, and in the afternoon they had reached the farther shore of Geographe Bay, near the place where they had arranged to await the Vigilant.
They had no water, and suffered horribly from thirst. Through the hot day which followed, O'Reilly lay on the sand, tortured with blistering pains and hunger. Maguire brought him food and water at last, and that night he slept on the boughs. In the afternoon the white sails of the whaleships were seen and the company put out, but to their amazement the Vigilant sailed away, never heeding their signals.
O'Reilly's heart was bitter. The men returned to the shore and resolved to leave O'Reilly in hiding while they returned home and arranged for his escape by one of the other whaleships. They left him in the secluded sand valley, promising to return in a week.
But O'Reilly could not wait. The next morning he put to sea alone in a dory, and at night he was on an unknown sea. The next noon he sighted the Vigilant again, and once more she sailed away. It should be said that Captain Baker did not see his boat on either of these occasions.
O'Reilly rowed all night, and in the morning reached the sand hills on the headland of Geographe Bay once more. Exhausted with fatigue and anxiety, he cared for nothing but sleep, and this he could have without stint in the secluded valley. Five days later his friends returned, having arranged with Captain Gifford of the whaling bark Gazelle of New Bedford to pick him up. In order to insure the fulfillment of this agreement, good Father McCabe had paid the captain ten pounds.
The next morning O'Reilly and his friends once more rowed out toward the headland. He was leaving Australia forever. Toward noon he was picked up by bark Clarice and subsequently was transferred aboard the Gazelle.
This is only the chief incident, briefly told, of the escape of O'Reilly. It suggested some years later a means to a more brilliant accomplishment, for the bravery and ingenuity of the officers of the New Bedford whaleship in a subsequent event, when an attempt to secure possession of the escaping prisoner at Roderique made a strong impression upon O'Reilly.
CHAPTER VIII
OTHER ESCAPES AND RESCUES
Therescue of the young Irish revolutionist, John Mitchell, was the first of the series of escapes participated in by Irish patriots. Mitchell was a talented and brave young man, whose life and history have been an inspiration to the devotees of Irish freedom. He was originally a writer upon the "Nation," but its policy was too conservative for his tastes, and in 1847 he founded a new journal called "The United Irishman." Mitchell belonged to that section of "young Ireland" which advocated immediate war with England. He believed the time was now ripe, and he set about making his paper as obnoxious to the English government as possible. He was a brilliant writer and an enthusiast for the revolution. His plan was to force the hand, first of the English government, then of the Irish people. He deliberately challenged the government to arrest the leaders of his party. Then he calculated that the Irish people would rise to defend or rescue their heroes, and rebellion would be effected.
For three years he continued his taunting tactics. He wrote in a strain of fiery sedition, urging thepeople to prepare for warlike effort, while he described how to make pikes and use them; how to cast bullets; and how to make the streets as dangerous for cavalry horses as Bruce made the field of Bannockburn. Some of the agencies which were suggested for the use of the people, when they should take up arms, were almost devilish in their ferocity, such as the employment of vitriol. At length the government was forced to recognize the violence of young Mitchell's newspaper attacks, and a measure was framed by the government to meet the case, enabling it to suppress newspapers like "United Irishman" and imprison the publishers. Mitchell was defiant still, and he was arrested. Greatly to his chagrin, no attempt was made to rescue him. "Had there been another Mitchell out of doors, as fearless and reckless as the Mitchell in the prison," writes a historian, "a sanguinary outbreak would probably have taken place." He was sentenced to expatriation for fourteen years, and was deported first to Bermuda and then to Australia. Smith O'Brien, Meagher, and other of the confederate leaders were likewise sent there.
In 1853 P.J. Smyth, who was known as "Nicaragua," a correspondent of the "New York Tribune," was commissioned by the Irish Directory of New York to proceed to Australia and procure the escape of Mitchell and his political associates. Mitchell was under parole, and his sense of honor would not permit him to leave without surrendering it. On June 8, 1853, in company with Smyth, hepresented himself to the police magistrate in Bothwell and surrendered his parole.
"You see the purport of that note, sir," said he. "It is short and plain. It resigns the thing called 'ticket of leave' and revokes my promise, which bound me so long as I held the thing."
Then they left the magistrate, who was either stupid or afraid to make an attempt to detain them, and, mounting horses, rode through the Australian woods until Hobart Town was reached, when they sailed on the passenger brig Emma to Sydney, and in due time reached the United States. Meagher soon followed. O'Brien declined to have anything to do with any plot for escape while he was on parole, and his honorable conduct was rewarded by a pardon.
After reaching this country, Mitchell founded a paper advocating slavery, and championing the Southern cause in the Rebellion. One of his last acts here was a lecture, the proceeds of which went to swell the fund which was being raised for the Catalpa expedition. Later he returned to Ireland, where, owing to some defect in the criminal law, he could not be arrested, his time of penal servitude having expired, although he had not served it. He was elected to Parliament for Tipperary, was disqualified for a seat, and then reëlected. Some turmoil was expected, when Mitchell was withdrawn from the controversy by death.
"Weep for him, Ireland, mother lonely;Weep for the son who died for thee.Wayward he was, but he loved thee only,Loyal and fearless as son could be.Weep for him, Ireland, sorrowing nation,Faithful to all who are true to thee;Never a son in thy desolationHad holier love for thy cause than he."
The rescue of Kelly and Deasy at Manchester was daring and successful, but it was only accomplished by the killing of one man, and three were subsequently hanged for complicity in the affair. Colonel Kelly and Captain Deasy, Fenian agents in England, were captured by the Manchester police on September 11, 1867, and a week afterward were arraigned at the Manchester police office. Being identified as Fenian leaders, they were again remanded and placed in the prison van to be conveyed to the borough jail. They were in charge of Police Sergeant Charles Brett. When half way to the prison, and just as the van passed under the railway arch over Hyde Road at Bellevue, a man jumped into the middle of the road, pointed a pistol at the head of the van-driver and ordered him to stop. Immediately thirty armed men swarmed over the wall which lined the road. A shot was fired, and the driver was so frightened that he fell from his seat. One horse was shot, and the gallant police escorts scattered and ran for their lives.
An endeavor was then made to break in the door of the van. It was locked on the inside, and the key was in the possession of a police officer named Brett, who sat within. A shot was fired at the key-hole to blow off the lock, and the unfortunate policeofficer received a wound from which he died soon after. The doors were then opened, a woman prisoner in the van handing out the keys, which she found in the pocket of the officer. "Kelly, I'll die for you," said one of the Fenian rescuers.
He kept his word.
The prisoners were freed, and were seen to enter a cottage near the Hyde Road. They left it unfettered, and were never seen after by English officials. Several men were put on trial for the murder of Brett, and five were found guilty,—Allen, Larkin, O'Brien, Condon or Shore, and Maguire. The defense was that the prisoners only meditated a rescue, and that the death of the policeman was an accident. The five were sentenced to death, but the newspaper reporters were so certain that Maguire was not concerned in the affair that they joined in a memorial to the government, expressing their conviction that the verdict was a mistake. The government made an investigation, and found that he was not near the spot on the day of the rescue,—that he was a loyal private in the Marines, and not a Fenian. He was pardoned, but not unnaturally the circumstances caused a grave doubt with relation to the soundness of the verdict in the other cases.
Strenuous attempts were made to secure a commutation of the sentence. Mr. Bright was foremost with his exertions, and Mr. Swinburne, the poet, wrote an appeal for mercy, from which a few verses are quoted:—
"Art thou indeed among these,Thou of the tyrannous crew,The kingdoms fed upon blood,O queen from of old of the seas,England, art thou of them, too,That drink of the poisonous flood,That hide under poisonous trees?"Nay, thy name from of old,Mother, was pure, or we dreamed;Purer we held thee than this,Purer fain would we hold;So goodly a glory it seemed,A fame so bounteous of bliss,So more precious than gold.
"Strangers came gladly to thee,Exiles, chosen of men,Safe for thy sake in thy shade,Sat down at thy feet and were free.So men spake of thee then;Now shall their speaking be stayed?Ah, so let it not be!"Not for revenge or affright,Pride or a tyrannous lust,Cast from thee the crown of thy praise.Mercy was thine in thy might,Strong when thou wert, thou wert just;Now, in the wrong-doing days,Cleave thou, thou at least, to the right.
"Freeman he is not, but slave,Whoso in fear for the StateCries for surety of blood,Help of gibbet and grave;Neither is any land greatWhom, in her fear-stricken mood,These things only can save."Lo, how fair from afar,Taintless of tyranny, standsThy mighty daughter, for yearsWho trod the winepress of war;Shines with immaculate hands;Slays not a foe, neither fears;Stains not peace with a scar!"Be not as tyrant or slave,England; be not as these,Thou that wert other than they.Stretch out thine hand, but to save;Put forth thy strength, and release;Lest there arise, if thou slay,Thy shame as a ghost from the grave."
The government refused to listen to the appeals, and Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien were hanged at Manchester on November 23, 1867, meeting death with courage and composure, we are told. Shore escaped, since he was proven to be an American citizen, and the English spared him lest the protection of the American government might have been invoked in his behalf.
One more incident may be added to the chapter of Fenian rescues. This was the attempt to blow up the House of Detention at Clerkenwell in December, 1867, where two Fenian prisoners were confined. This affair was farcical in conception, but its results were cruelly tragic.
"At the very time that this horrible crime and blunder was perpetrated," writes a historian, "one of the London theatres was nightly crowded by spectators eager to see an Irish melodrama, among the incidents of which was the discussion of a plan for the rescue of a prisoner from a castle cell. The audience was immensely amused by the proposal of one confederate to blow up the castle altogether, and the manner in which it occurred to the simple plotters, just in time, that if they carried out this plan, they must send the prisoner himself flying into the air. The Clerkenwell conspirators had either not seen the popular drama or had missed the point of its broadest joke."
A barrel of gunpowder was exploded close to the wall. Sixty yards of the prison wall were blown in, and many small dwellings in the vicinity were shattered. A dozen persons were killed, one hundred and twenty were wounded, and there were other serious consequences. Had the prisoners been near the wall, they would have been killed. Five men and a woman were put on trial for the crime, but only one man was convicted. He was found guilty on the evidence of an informer and executed. It was agreed that the persons who were concerned in this plot were "of that irresponsible crew who hang on to the skirts of all secret political associations, and whose adhesion is only one other reason for regarding such associations as deplorable and baneful. Such men are of the class who bring a curse, who bring many curses, on even the best cause that strives to work in secret. They prowl after the heels of organized conspiracy, and what it will not do they are ready in some fatal moment to attempt."
And this brings us back to the last and most important of Irish national rescue projects.
CHAPTER IX
APPEALS FROM AUSTRALIA
In1870 the British government had granted conditional pardon to such political convicts in Australia as had been civilians at the time of their offense, but the military prisoners were exempted. Still the latter were not without hope, as the letter of one of them to O'Reilly, who had amnestied himself, shows. "It is my birthday as I write this," ran the letter, "and I know I am turning it to the best account by writing to such a dear old friend. Who knows? perhaps I may be able to spend the next one with you. If not, then we will hope for the following one. At all events, we must not despair."
The men were not always so calmly hopeful. Sometimes—
"There spake in their hearts a hidden voiceOf the blinding joy of a freeman's burstThrough the great dim woods. Then the toil accurst,The scorching days and the nights in tears,The riveted rings for years and years,They weighed them all—they looked beforeAt the one and other, and spoke them o'er,And they saw what the heart of man must see,That the uttermost blessing is liberty."
And so it happened that Hassett, who was a manof remarkable daring, "with his eyes on the doom and danger," made his escape from the road party in April, 1869. He penetrated the bush to the sea, like O'Reilly; and after eleven months of privation he took refuge on board a ship at Bunbury. But he had "grasped the flower but to clutch the sting." As he reached the threshold of freedom he was snatched back. Discovered and recaptured, he was sentenced to three years of hard labor in the chain gang at Swan River, with six months' solitary confinement. The first part of the sentence is not without humor, since Hassett was serving a life sentence at hard labor when he made his escape, and there was no terror in the additional three years of servitude.
Upon the occasion of the Queen's accession to the title of Empress of India, one hundred and forty members of Parliament, including Mr. Bright, Mr. Plimsoll, Mr. Mundella, Mr. Fawcett, and many others of the ablest men of the House, presented a petition for the pardon of the political prisoners, but it was rejected.
And so perished the last hope of the friends of the prisoners of clemency from the government. "Delayed, but nothing altered, more straining on for plucking back," the friends of the prisoners, with an audacity which must be admired, determined then that they should be freed in spite of the government.
From time to time appeals had been sent forth from the prisoners in Australia to their friends athome and in America. Martin Hogan had written to Peter Curran in 1872, having seen Curran's name in a letter written by O'Donovan Rossa to the Dublin "Irishman." A copy of this paper had been smuggled into the prison, and suggested the appeal to America.
Then James Wilson wrote to John Devoy in New York, sketching a plan of action, and his appeal stirred the devoted man to a final gigantic effort. Devoy sent back the cheering response that steps were being taken for the execution of the plan.
After a conference with John Kenneally and James McCarthy Finnell, prisoners who had been released, Mr. Devoy presented the matter to the Clan-na-Gael convention at Baltimore in 1874, and John Devoy and John W. Goff, the latter of whom is now the recorder of the New York courts, James Reynolds of New Haven, and Patrick Mahon and John C. Talbot were appointed a committee to carry out the project.
Devoy, Reynolds, and Goff were the most active, and, without definitely revealing their plans, such was the confidence of the Irish people in them that they were not long in securing a fund of $20,000. This was not accomplished, however, without the sacrifice of business, health, and money, on the part of the men most active. Sympathizing miners in New Zealand were stirred by John King, an ex-prisoner, to contribute $4,000, and two agents of the revolutionary party in Ireland, Denis F. McCarthy of Cork and John Walsh of Durham, England, brought $5,000 and their personal aid.
John J. Breslin, a brave man who assisted James Stephens, the head centre of the Fenian movement, to escape from the jaws of death in 1865, and of whom I shall have much more to say presently, was assigned the dangerous rôle of active agent, with Thomas Desmond of San Francisco as an associate. They were to go to Australia and place themselves in communication with the prisoners.
Finally a vessel was to be fitted out for Australia, manned by men fearless of consequences, to rescue the life prisoners from their captivity.
It was here that Mr. O'Reilly made a valuable suggestion to Devoy, that a whaling vessel should be sent. Such a vessel might sail on an ostensible whaling voyage and avert the suspicion with which another ship cruising in the waters of Western Australia might be received. The suggestion was at once accepted as an inspiration.
CHAPTER X
THE PLOT
Whilethe fact that O'Reilly was rescued by a whaleship was the direct cause of the determination to send a vessel representative of New Bedford's victorious industry, there were other reasons which commended the selection.
Men who engaged in this perilous mode of hardy enterprise must necessarily be persevering and brave. Perhaps the originators of the enterprise remembered that it was a whaleship bearing the name of Bedford which was the first vessel to display the flag of the United States in British waters, and that in 1783, when the countries were at war.
Barnard's "History of England," a rare book, recites that "the ship Bedford, Captain Moores, belonging to the Massachusetts, arrived in the Downs on the 3rd of February, passed Gravesend on the 3rd, and was reported at the Custom House on the 6th instant. She was not allowed regular entry until some consultation had taken place between the commissioners of the customs and the lords of council, on account of the many acts of parliament in force against the rebels of America. She isloaded with 487 butts of whale oil, is American built, manned wholly by American seamen, and wears the rebel colors. This is the first vessel which has displayed the thirteen rebellious stripes of America in any British port. The vessel is at Horseledour, a little below the Tower, and is intended to return immediately to New England."
The New Bedford whaleman has ever been a type of enterprise and daring, but the commission which these Irish patriots proposed, of challenging the British navy with a whaleship and snatching a half dozen men from the jaws of the British lion, was a supreme test of pluck.
When it was decided to fit out a whaleship, O'Reilly directed Devoy and his friends to consult with Captain Henry C. Hathaway in New Bedford. At the time of his rescue, Captain Hathaway was the third mate of the Gazelle, and O'Reilly occupied a stateroom with him. A strong attachment had grown up between them, which was strengthened when Hathaway saved O'Reilly from drowning during a fight with an ugly whale, in which O'Reilly's love of excitement had led him to participate.
Captain Hathaway was at this time captain of the night police force in New Bedford. He entered into the plans with interest, and told Devoy that the commander whom he needed to carry the expedition to success was Captain George S. Anthony. John T. Richardson, the father-in-law of Captain Anthony, was a whaling agent, and the proposition was firstbroached to him, and he agreed to arrange an interview for the Clan-na-Gael committee with Anthony.
Captain Anthony was a New Bedford boy, and pledged his life to the sea at the age of fifteen. He had been a successful whaleman, and his faithfulness had been demonstrated in a service of ten years in one ship, of which Jonathan Bourne was the agent.
But the captain had recently married, and had concluded to abandon the longboat forever. He was given a position at the Morse Twist Drill Works, where he was employed in February, 1875, when Devoy and his friends first went to New Bedford.
But a sailor is never long contented ashore, and Anthony was growing restless. Mr. Bourne was inclined to make light of his resolution to become a mechanic, and constantly dropped in upon him at the shop with tempting offers to return to his service, until the foreman suggested to Mr. Bourne that he should "let Anthony alone." Then Mr. Bourne slapped the stout sailor on the back and said, "Well, Anthony, I'll let you alone. But remember and let me know when you are ready to go whaling again."
Mr. Bourne's experience had taught him something. He had detected the restlessness of Anthony, who acknowledged that he was out of place in a machine-shop, and he knew that one day he would come to his office, prepared to sign shipping papers.
A few days later Anthony met Mr. Richardsonand said to him: "I'm tired of this. Go down and see Mr. Bourne and ask him if he will let me have a ship."
"Wait a few days; I have something better for you," said Mr. Richardson. Two days before he had met Devoy and his comrades, and he was then carrying their secret about with him.
The next morning Mr. Richardson again met the captain: "Come to the store this evening," said he; "there will be two or three men there whom I wish you to meet."
At about eight o'clock Anthony presented himself at Richardson's. The store of the latter was at 18 South Water Street. It was an outfitters' establishment, with a stock of such clothing as is to be found in the slop chest of the sailor in the front of the store, while there was an open space at the rear filled with chairs.
About a big stove sat a number of men, several of whom were strangers to Anthony. He remembered that he had seen them about Richardson's place for several days, and had once been on the point of inquiring who they were. Captain Hathaway was one of the men in the group whom he knew, and it may be said that Mr. Devoy, Mr. Goff, and Mr. Reynolds were also present.
"It's just as well to sit in the dark," said one, and the lights were at once put out, which seemed to Anthony a rather singular proceeding.
Then he was introduced to the men, but their names were unfamiliar to him at that time. CaptainAnthony was less a stranger to the men whom he met. They had made a study of him for several days before they decided to intrust him with the secret and the enterprise which was nearest their hearts, and they had now decided that he would do.
The man who stood in the lamplight for a minute before the flame was extinguished was of athletic build, with black hair, and eyes which were so black, bright, and alert that they were the conspicuous feature of the face. The brilliant color in the captain's cheek indicated vigorous good health.
Then John Devoy, whom Captain Anthony had carelessly noticed was a short man with full black whiskers, unfolded the plan of the proposed rescue of the Fenian prisoners to the astonished captain.
CHAPTER XI
THE VESSEL AND THE START
Itwas an ideal conspiracy, you see, the plans being made under the cover of darkness. Mr. Devoy was a brilliant talker, and he knew his subject well. He hurried over the story of the revolution in which the men were engaged, making prominent the fact that his friends who had been transported to Western Australia were not criminals.
Then he sketched the plan of rescue. In his enthusiasm it probably seemed the easy task to Devoy which he represented it to be. His friends would provide a whaleship, fitted for sea. Captain Anthony was to sail as soon as possible, and beyond keeping up a pretense of whaling, his part would merely be to show his vessel off the coast of Australia on a certain date. There he would be hailed by a company of men in a boat. He would take them aboard and sail for home. The shore end of the escape would be managed by others.
Captain Anthony asked for time in which to consider the proposition, and he was given one day. Meanwhile he was pledged never to speak of the plan, not even to Mrs. Anthony, whether or not he accepted the commission. The captain did some hard thinking that night, and the next evening,when he again met the committee at Richardson's, he told them he would go. They expressed their gratification, gave authority to Mr. Richardson and Captain Anthony to select a suitable vessel, and left the city, well satisfied with their selection of a commander.
I have always suspected that Devoy and his friends must have aroused the sympathy of Captain Anthony and awakened within him a personal interest in the men whose zeal for patriotism had placed them in an unfortunate position. A promise that he would be well paid was certainly inadequate to the weary voyage, the risk, and the sacrifice he must make in leaving his family. Captain Anthony had been married but a year, and there was a baby daughter but a few months old. His mother was ill, and had not the spirit which dominated Devoy appealed to him, there can be no satisfactory explanation of his assumption of the trust.
Mr. Richardson and Captain Anthony now commenced their search for a vessel. They looked at the Jeannette, a New Bedford whaler, the Sea Gull, a Boston clipper and fast, but in need of expensive repairs, and the Addison, formerly a whaleship, but at that time a packet running on the route between Boston and Fayal. None were regarded as entirely suitable.
At last they heard of the Catalpa. She was formerly a whaleship sailing out of New Bedford, but had been placed in the merchant service. She had just returned with a cargo of logwood from the WestIndies and was for sale. Captain Anthony and Mr. Richardson went to East Boston, where she lay. They were satisfied with her, and, finding she could be bought cheaply, communicated with the committee, which authorized her purchase. She was bought on March 13, 1875, and the price paid was $5,500.
The Catalpa was a vessel of 202.05 tons net, 90 feet in length, 25 feet in breadth, with a depth of 12.2 feet. She was rigged as a merchant bark, with double topsails, a poop deck, and cabin half above decks. Her main deck was roomy and she had an open hold, there being nothing between decks excepting her beams. The house and galley were on deck, merchant fashion; altogether she seemed a stanch vessel. The bark was brought around to New Bedford and the fitting commenced at City Wharf under Captain Anthony's direction.
Davits and whaleboat gear were rigged, a forecastle was built for the sailors, a half deck put in, sail and rigging pens built on one side and a steerage on the other. Then it was discovered that the riding keelson was rotten, and John W. Howland, who was in charge of the repairs, performed a mechanical feat never before attempted. The foot of the mainmast rests upon this part of the vessel, yet a new piece was put in with such skill that the rigging did not settle throughout the voyage.
The bark was provided with a forward and after cabin. Two rooms on the starboard side were knocked into one for the use of the captain, the mate's room was on the port side, opposite, and thesecond and third mates were furnished accommodations in the forward cabin.
The vessel was fitted ostensibly for a whaling voyage of eighteen months or two years in the North and South Atlantic. Captain Anthony was given supreme authority in the arrangement of the vessel and in securing the fittings, and gave his personal attention to the stowing of the ship.
On the day of sailing, the vessel and outfit had cost the Clan-na-Gael committee $18,000. The vessel stood in the name of James Reynolds of New Haven, a fact which aroused considerable curiosity among the New Bedford whaling agents, since he was a newcomer in the field which they had regarded as a monopoly.
The conspirators made but one request with relation to the crew. They wished to have one of their number accompany the vessel, and Dennis Duggan was selected. He was shipped as carpenter. Otherwise the responsibility was placed with Captain Anthony, and it was a difficult task, requiring no little discretion and knowledge of the character of men.
He made a wise choice, it will be seen later, in the selection of Samuel P. Smith of Edgartown as first mate. The crew was purposely made up largely of Kanakas, Malays, and Africans, since they were likely to be less suspicious than other sailors and could better endure the climate of the southern seas.
The shipping articles described the crew as finally made up as follows. The names of some of the men were invented and bestowed upon them by the shipping agents.
New Bedford, April 29, 1875.
Although the suspicions of nobody had been aroused in any quarter which would lead to anxiety, the shipping agents were very persistent in their inquiries about the destination of the ship.
"Captain Anthony is going where he has a mind and will stay as long as he pleases," was Mr. Richardson's invariable reply to those who questioned him.
The bark was now ready for sea, and Devoy, who was at this time night editor of the "New York Herald," went to New Bedford to give Captain Anthony his final instructions.
"You will cruise until fall, about six months, in the North Atlantic," were Devoy's orders. "Then you are to put in at Fayal, ship home any oil which you may have taken, and sail at once for Australia, where we expect you to arrive early in the spring of 1876. You are to go to Bunbury, on the west coast, and there communications will be opened up with you from our Australian agent."
The serious illness of Captain Anthony's mother delayed his departure for two days. Devoy remained over, and at nine o'clock on Thursday morning, April 29, 1875, he waved his handkerchief in farewell to Captain Anthony as he rowed away from the dock to board the Catalpa.
Although a large company of his friends had made up a party to accompany the captain down the bay, he could not trust himself to bring his wife. He had said good-by to his wife and baby at home.
THE CATALPA OUTWARD BOUND
This was the first anniversary of Captain Anthony's wedding, and among those who were on the bark was Rev. O.A. Roberts, the clergyman who had officiated at the marriage. Mr. Roberts was curious to see a chronometer, and after the vessel was under way he examined it and asked about its winding. Captain Anthony's attention thus being called to it, he learned that he was bound to sea without a key for his chronometer. Fortunately a mechanic named Arnett was on the vessel, and he bored and filed an old clock key to fit the chronometer, and it was wound. This was only the commencement of trouble with the chronometer, which continued throughout the voyage.