Once more the element of good luck had manifested itself, this time at a most critical point.
On Saturday morning, April 15, Captain Anthony finally telegraphed:—
"I shall certainly sail to-day. Suppose you will leave for York Sunday morning. Good-by."
"I shall certainly sail to-day. Suppose you will leave for York Sunday morning. Good-by."
Straightway the answer came back:—
Your telegram received. All right. Glad you got off without damage. Au revoir.J. Collins.
Your telegram received. All right. Glad you got off without damage. Au revoir.
J. Collins.
Captain Anthony reported at the custom-house that he was ready for sea, and the officers came off and prodded the hold and every dark space with spears, according to custom, to see if any prisoners were stowed away. At two o'clock in the afternoon a moderate favoring breeze from the S.S.W. was blowing. Anchor was hoisted, and with all sail set the Catalpa slipped up the coast bound for Rockingham.
CHAPTER XXI
LEAVING THE SHIP
Atsundown the vessel was well outside the harbor and sail was shortened. In the evening the captain went below for a nap, telling the officers in charge of the deck not to go over three miles an hour, to keep the land well in sight, and call him at midnight if all was well, but sooner if there was any change in the weather. At twelve o'clock Captain Anthony was on deck again. The weather continued favorable, for which he was exceedingly grateful. The inverted season corresponded to fall at home, and it was the time when storms were looked for. A delay now would certainly be disastrous, and the weather was a source of the most constant anxiety.
The captain remained on deck throughout the night. At noon on Sunday the vessel had proceeded up the coast until it was about twenty miles south of Rottnest lighthouse, off Freemantle harbor. Now he called Mr. Smith into the cabin, spread out the chart, and explained to him that the lighthouse was twelve miles offshore from the Freemantle jetty and one hundred and ninety-seven feet above the level of the sea, with a signal station on top from which the approach of vessels was signaled to the town. He cautioned the mate to keep the ship out of near range, and told Mr. Smith that the crisis had come and he was about to start in the small boat. He was to lay off and on the land and keep a sharp lookout for his return.
"If I do not come back," he said, "you must use your best judgment. Go whaling or go home, as you like."
Then the men clasped hands, and Captain Anthony once more thanked fortune that he could leave his vessel in the hands of a brave man who could be trusted, whatever the emergency.
The captain then went on deck, threw a coat into one of the whaleboats, stowed away a bag of hard-bread, two kegs of water, and half a boiled ham, and ordered the boat lowered. A crew which the captain had selected after much thought was then stationed at the oars: Mr. Sylvia the third mate, Tobey the boatsteerer, Lewis a Portuguese, and Mopsy and Lombard, two Malays. Each man was told to take his coat, and the proceeding doubtless caused amazement among the men; but good sailors obey orders in silence and no word was spoken among them.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon when the boat left the ship. Captain Anthony was due at Rockingham at noon the next day. A small sail was put on the boat, and she made good progress. Just before dark, when the boat was well in under Garden Island, the sail was taken in and oars were shipped, for the captain did not wish to make a landing before nightfall. When the boat was offthe south end of the island the captain was startled at a roaring like thunder, and an instant later saw blind breakers, ten feet in height, making directly for the boat. He shouted orders to the men to look out for their oars and trim the boat. They let the oars come alongside and succeeded in keeping the little craft steady. She was lifted high in air on three of the rollers. Then all was quiet, for the boat had reached the smooth waters of Cockburn Sound. Oars were shipped once more, and the boat jogged on in the darkness. The captain knew by the ranges he had taken as he came through the passage that he must be near the spot selected as a meeting place.
A landing was made on the beach. Captain Anthony stepped ashore and had not walked more than three hundred feet when his foot struck the stake which had been set up as a mark on his previous visit.
It was now about 8.30 o'clock in the evening. The boat was hauled up on the beach and the men were told to lie down in the grass and sleep. It was clear and warm, and, unquestioning, they did as the captain told them.
Captain Anthony walked the beach all the night through, filled with disquieting thoughts and longing for the day.
CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
Meanwhile, how had it fared with Breslin, whom we have seen must have been forced to change his plans several times at brief notice? Mr. Breslin had arranged a signal with Wilson which meant, "Get ready; we start to-morrow morning," but he could not give it on Friday. He succeeded, however, in sending a letter of instructions, concluding: "We have money, arms, and clothes; let no man's heart fail him, for this chance can never occur again."
Desmond went from Perth to Freemantle and joined Breslin, with a pair of fine horses and a four-wheeled wagon. He reached there Friday evening. Mr. Breslin had a similar conveyance and the best pair of horses he could get in Freemantle engaged for Friday and Saturday. On Friday afternoon he took the horses out for a trial trip, to see that they went well together and were in good condition.
Everything was in readiness for the attempt, when Mr. Breslin received Captain Anthony's telegram announcing that the Catalpa could not start on account of the storm. By a fortunate chance Cranston had been sent from the prison into the town thatevening, and he was informed of the change in the programme. Mr. Breslin thought that inasmuch as the vessel had dragged both anchors, she must have gone on the bar, and that a delay of weeks might follow before she was again ready for sea. So Desmond returned to Perth and prepared for another wait. But on Saturday came the telegram from Captain Anthony announcing that he would sail that day.
The escape must therefore be accomplished on Monday. Mr. Breslin engaged the same horses for Sunday and sent King to Perth on horseback to notify Desmond to return to Freemantle with his horses on Sunday evening. Saturday evening he walked to the jetty and gave to Wilson the signal which meant, "We start to-morrow morning." Fortunately he noticed Wilson's puzzled look, for an escape on Sunday, when the men were locked in the prison, was, of course, impossible. Then he realized the error. Walking leisurely across, he said to Wilson as he passed, "Monday morning," without being observed by the warden or the other prisoners.
Desmond arrived in Freemantle at about two o'clock Sunday afternoon with an inferior pair of horses, and when Mr. Breslin went to get the horses he had engaged, he found that Albert, the owner, had given the best horse to Mr. Stone, the superintendent of the water police, to go to Perth, his brother-in-law, the sheriff, having been injured by being thrown from his horse. Moreover, Albert told him he could not have the other horse, since he hadpromised it to a man to go to the Perth regatta on Easter Monday. So he engaged another pair, but the expedition was much more poorly equipped in this respect than on the date first selected.
And now came Monday. There were many anxious hearts in Australia that night, and Captain Anthony, who paced the lonely beach, was not alone in his sleepless vigil. At 5.30 o'clock in the morning Breslin had the hostler called. Brennan started at six for Rockingham with arms and luggage. At seven Mr. Breslin went to Albert's stable and found his horses harnessed to a light trap, waiting for him. He told the hostler to let them stand a few minutes and then found Desmond and directed him to have his horses harnessed and ready to leave in half an hour.
It was arranged that Desmond should leave by a side street which, after a few turns, took him up on the Rockingham Road, while Breslin was to drive up High Street, as if he were going to Perth, then turn around by the prison and on to the same road. King, who was well mounted, was to remain for a reasonable time after the start, then follow with information whether the alarm had been given.
At half past seven Breslin drove slowly up the principal street, turned to the right, walked his horses slowly by the warden's quarters and pensioners' barracks. The men were beginning to assemble for parade. He had arranged with the prisoners that he would have the traps waiting at the road at a quarter before eight, the nearest to be stationedabout five minutes' run from the prison, and that they would remain until nine o'clock.
Being ahead of time, Breslin drove slowly along the Rockingham Road, met Desmond, and they stopped under a tree and divided the hats and coats they had brought to cover the convict garb, each taking three long linen coats and three hats. Then Breslin drove back toward Freemantle, Desmond following.
Time, 7.55 o'clock.
A few minutes later, three men in prison dress were seen coming down the Rockingham Road. They proved to be Wilson, Cranston, and Harrington. Breslin told them to pass on and get into Desmond's trap, which they did. Desmond wheeled his horses around and they were seated and ready to start when the other three came in sight. Breslin drove toward them and found they were Darragh, Hogan, and Hassett. One carried a spade and another a large kerosene can. When the men recognized their rescuers, the man with the spade threw it with exultant vigor into the bush and the prisoner with the can bestowed a kick upon it in good football fashion.
At this critical juncture, Breslin's horses rebelled and refused to wheel around. Darragh caught one by the head, but he plunged so that Breslin was afraid the animal would break the harness, and shouted to Darragh to let go. He did so and the horses started fairly well together. Driving to a wider part of the road, they wheeled nicely. Breslin picked up his men, and the horses were off at dashing speed. Desmond, meanwhile, was out of sight, and King had come up, reporting everything quiet when he left.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS(From the Irish World, September 2, 1876)
It must here be explained how the prisoners were able to get away so successfully. Their good conduct and length of imprisonment had entitled them to the rank of constable, which afforded the opportunity for communication with each other. Wilson and Harrington worked in the same party at the construction of harbor works in Freemantle. Hogan was a painter by trade, and on this morning was employed in painting the house of Mr. Fauntleroy, outside the prison walls. Cranston was employed in the stores, and as messenger occasionally. Darragh was clerk and attendant to the Church of England chaplain, and enjoyed facilities for communication with the other prisoners. This morning he took Hassett with him to plant potatoes in the garden of Mr. Broomhole, clerk of works in the convict department.
It fortunately happened that on the morning of April 17 all the political prisoners were at work outside the prison wall. Cranston walked out as if going to deliver a message. He overtook the working party and told the warden he had been sent to take Wilson and Harrington to move some furniture in the governor's house, which was the nearest point to the meeting place. He exhibited a key, and the warden directed the two men to go with Cranston.
Darragh and Hassett started as if for work in thesame direction, and Hogan made an excuse to the warden to leave his work for a moment, and joined them.
"There was one incident of this daring enterprise which completed its dramatic intensity," writes James Jeffrey Roche. "The soldier convicts in Freemantle numbered one more than those who were rescued. That one was purposely left behind because of an act of treachery which he had attempted against his fellows ten long years before. He was tried with the others, by court-martial, and found guilty of treason; but before his sentence received the approval of the commander-in-chief he had offered to divulge the names of certain of his comrades not yet arrested, though implicated in the Fenian conspiracy. His offer was not accepted. The government punished him for his treason, and his comrades, half a score of years afterward, punished him more cruelly for the treason which he had contemplated against them."
The two traps, followed by King, made a quick journey to Rockingham. Mr. Somers, the proprietor of the hotel, stood in the door as the traps passed, but suspected nothing, inasmuch as he knew Breslin and Desmond, and the prison garb of the other men was concealed by their long coats. As the men drove up, he shouted:—
"What time will the Georgette be at the timber jetty?"
"Is the Georgette coming here?" shouted Breslin.
"Yes. She's due now."
Here was alarming news. The presence of the Georgette would ruin all. The horses were driven to a gallop. At half past ten the party approached the beach and saw Brennan making signals to them to hasten.
CHAPTER XXIII
IN THE OPEN BOAT
Captain Anthonywalked up and down the beach throughout the long night, while his crew slept in the warm sand. He knew that the fate of the expedition, disastrous or successful, depended upon the developments of the ensuing day, and he was impatient to know the fate which awaited him. Twice during the night he roused the men to haul the boat farther up the beach, as the tide was rising. They responded sleepily and then dropped asleep again in careless sailor fashion.
As daylight approached, the captain was surprised and alarmed to find he was near a timber station. It had been unnoticed on the previous visit. Soon after sunrise, a gang of men put in an appearance and commenced carting lumber to a jetty not more than half a mile away.
He knew his presence must be discovered, and it was not long before one of the men from the jetty was seen approaching.
"What's going on?" asked the man, as he came up.
Captain Anthony told him he was bound to Freemantle for an anchor, to replace one which was lost. The man grinned at this.
"Lad," said he, "you've hooked it (ran away) from some ship, and I advise you to get out. This is no place to lay."
Then Anthony told him he was master of a ship, but the man was not to be convinced.
"I believe you're after Kenneth Brown," he said.
Brown was a man who was at that time under arrest for the murder of his wife.
Captain Anthony concluded it was useless to attempt a further explanation, and asked the man if he would tell him the best way to get out with his boat.
"I'm an ex-prisoner myself," said the man, "and I knew you were after somebody." He seemed disposed to assist the captain, to the relief of the latter, for if he had started to join his companions, Anthony would have been alarmed to an extent which might have made it necessary to resort to desperate means for his detention.
The visitor then told the captain that he must be very sure and keep close to Garden Island. There was a dangerous reef farther out, and it would be sure destruction to the boat to attempt to go out that way.
"But that's the way I came," said the captain. As he looked out, he saw the breakers making white water on the coral reef. He must have been carried completely over it by the blind rollers the previous night. He now realized that his escape had been providential.
Then the man said, in reply to questions, thathe was getting a cargo of timber ready for the Georgette.
"When is the Georgette coming?" asked the captain with eagerness.
"Why, she's coming now," he replied. "You can see her smoke."
There in the offing the captain saw the smoke of the steamer, and he began to realize that the situation was growing critically perilous.
At this moment there was a rattle of wheels, and Captain Anthony saw a two-wheeled trap, drawn by a horse on the gallop, coming up the beach toward him.
Brennan was driving, and he had the luggage of the party. He had lost his way, and had led his horse through the brush until he reached the beach. There he saw the men and the boat and drove his horse on the run toward them.
"Who is that man?" asked Brennan, as he came up and saw the stranger.
"He's a prisoner here and working on that jetty," replied the captain.
"We must shoot him," said Brennan.
"There will be no shooting yet," said the captain. "Where are the others?"
"Close behind," said Brennan, and he commenced unloading valises and bags belonging to Breslin, King, and Desmond.
Next King came up on horseback. The situation was explained to him, and he rode back to urge his comrades on.
Meanwhile the boat's crew sat huddled in the sand, apprehensive at the proceedings. The captain ordered them to push the boat into the water, each man to stand by the side of the boat, abreast his thwart. When he gave the order, he instructed them to shove the boat off as quickly as possible, to take the oars and pull. He cautioned them not to be afraid, whatever happened, at which the poor fellows looked at each other in consternation.
After an interval of fifteen minutes, which seemed much longer, a rattling of wheels and clatter of hoofs was heard, and Desmond and Breslin drove up with the prisoners, their horses quite exhausted.
As the prisoners jumped from the traps, their long linen coats blew open, showing their convict suits, with the unusual accompaniments of English belts, each containing two six-shooters. They seized rifles from the carriages, and with their arms full of cartridges made a rush for the boat.
At this the crew stood paralyzed, for they thought they were about to be attacked. One Malay drew a sheath knife and the others seized buckets, raised oars, and prepared to resist the men who were closing in upon them. This move was so unexpected that it was fortunate that an attack was averted, but a loud order from the captain in various languages at his command quieted the men. It was subsequently learned that the theory of the crew was that Captain Anthony had been smuggling and that the arrivals were government officials. The crew had determined to fight if necessary, to prevent the arrest of the captain.
At length the boat was afloat. The prisoners had been ordered to stow themselves as closely as possible in the bottom of the boat. Breslin, King, and Desmond sat in the stern and Captain Anthony took a position on top of the stern sheet, with the steering oar.
After some splashing the men began to pull with enthusiasm to the accompaniment of a running stream of rallying cries from the captain of "Pull as if you were pulling for a whale," "Come down, Mopsy," "Pull, Tobey, pull," "Come down, you big Lewis," "Pull, Tobey, pull," "Give them the stroke, Mr. Sylvia," "What do you say, men," "Come down altogether," "Pull away, my men, pull away."
Now the wind was beginning to breeze up from the west, blowing straight on shore. On the beach stood the timber-worker from the jetty, dumfounded at the spectacle, with the six horses, wandering about the shore. The boat was no more than a half mile from the beach when a squad of eight mounted policemen drove up. The flight had been discovered.
With the police were a number of "trackers," aboriginal bushmen who play the rôle of human blood-hounds. They wore short bokas, or cloaks of kangaroo skin, with belts of twisted fur around their naked bodies. These natives are attached to the prisons to follow the trail of absconding convicts, and they are wonderfully adept in running down a prisoner.
The police were armed with carbines and mighthave shot some of the men in the boat, but fortunately they did not fire. They watched the boat a while and then took the horses and led them toward the timber station.
Breslin had prepared a note to the governor which he fastened to a float and posted by the ocean mail. As the wind and tide were setting ashore, it undoubtedly reached its destination. The letter was as follows—
Rockingham, April 17, 1876.To His Excellency the British Governor of Western Australia.This is to certify that I have this day released from the clemency of Her Most Gracious Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, etc., etc., six Irishmen, condemned to imprisonment for life by the enlightened and magnanimous government of Great Britain for having been guilty of the atrocious and unpardonable crimes known to the unenlightened portion of mankind as "love of country" and "hatred of tyranny;" for this act of "Irish assurance" my birth and blood being my full and sufficient warrant. Allow me to add thatIn taking my leave now, I've only to sayA few cells I've emptied (a sell in its way);I've the honor and pleasure to bid you good-day,From all future acquaintance, excuse me, I pray.In the service of my country,John J. Breslin.
Rockingham, April 17, 1876.
To His Excellency the British Governor of Western Australia.
To His Excellency the British Governor of Western Australia.
This is to certify that I have this day released from the clemency of Her Most Gracious Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, etc., etc., six Irishmen, condemned to imprisonment for life by the enlightened and magnanimous government of Great Britain for having been guilty of the atrocious and unpardonable crimes known to the unenlightened portion of mankind as "love of country" and "hatred of tyranny;" for this act of "Irish assurance" my birth and blood being my full and sufficient warrant. Allow me to add that
In taking my leave now, I've only to sayA few cells I've emptied (a sell in its way);I've the honor and pleasure to bid you good-day,From all future acquaintance, excuse me, I pray.
In the service of my country,John J. Breslin.
CHAPTER XXIV
AN AWFUL NIGHT
Itwas five o'clock in the afternoon when the rowboat went through the passage, and as Captain Anthony saw the menacing reef upon which the water was foaming and breaking, it seemed impossible that he had gone over it the night before.
Now the little boat was riding on lengthened seas which were rolling in from the ocean with increasing violence. The wind was blasty, but hauled a little in the boat's favor, so that Captain Anthony ordered the little sail set and told his companions if he could head in the way he was now going, the ship should be raised in an hour.
The fury of the wind and sea now poured upon the boat, and darkness was coming on, when the Catalpa was raised ahead. Captain Anthony knew that the little boat would not be visible to the ship and that the latter would stand off shore as soon as it became thick.
The sky grew blacker and the sea grew steadily heavier. The boat began to jump and jar until it seemed that she might lose her spar or mast step. The seas commenced to comb and break across the stern, or, running the length of the boat, wouldtumble in, soaking the men and threatening to swamp the little craft. Captain Anthony felt that his salvation lay in reaching the ship that night.
The sixteen men were directed to take a place on the weather gunwale, and the man in charge of the sheet was ordered to take a turn about the thwart and not to slacken an inch. A crisis had arrived, and any risk was preferable to a night on the ocean in such a storm as was imminent. The boat leaped forward at a spanking rate, and the spray flew like feathers; and the water rose in mimic mountains, crowned with white foam which the wind blew in mist from summit to summit. Miles away the Catalpa was seen, barely discernible at moments when she rose on the crest of a larger wave than common, thrusting her bows into the air, surrounded by foam, and apparently ready to take flight from the sea.
Then, with a crash, the mast went over the side, breaking close to the thwart. The boat nearly capsized to windward, but the captain threw her head to the wind and the magnificent efforts of the crew kept her afloat. Monstrous seas now rolled into her, threatening to overwhelm the craft. She was almost water-logged, and shipped water over bow and stern alternately, as she rose and fell. The crew bailed vehemently and desperately. The rescued men were very sick, and lay in the bottom of the boat, a wretched heap of miserable humanity.
The boat was relieved of some of the water, and the wreck hauled in. Oars were shipped, but rowing accomplished nothing more than holding the boat on her course, and almost in despair the men saw the Catalpa tack offshore.
The gale increased in violence as night wore on, and the men were completely worn out. The seas dashed over them, and their strength was taxed to exhaustion in bailing quickly lest the next sea might tumble in and wreck the boat. After the mast went, Captain Anthony took the midship oar, lashed on the jib, and stuck it up. The sheet was hauled aft, and the centreboard lowered, which steadied the boat and kept steerageway on her. The phosphorescence afforded a spectacle which Captain Anthony had never witnessed in equal degree, but it only made the wild scene more terrifying and awful.
For hours the seas continued to hurl themselves across the boat, while the men cast out the sea with bailers improvised from water kegs, the heads of which were knocked out.
Little was said, but occasionally one of the rescued men would ask "Captain, do you think we will float through the night?" The captain would cheerily reply, "Oh, yes, I've been out on many a worse night;" but he has since confessed that he would not have given a cent for the lives of the entire company. Under other circumstances the danger would have been much less. But the boat was overloaded, the gunwales being within two inches of the water, and she was nearly unmanageable. To run back to Garden Island meant capture.
The crew had eaten nothing but a little dry hard-bread since the noon of the day previous, and were painfully athirst. The provisions and water in the boat had been washed overboard. Captain Anthony was on his knees on top of the stern sheets steering, and often the seas rose to his armpits. The men were groaning, and it was so dark that the captain could not see his crew. No word was spoken excepting repeated orders to bail.
Late in the night, when the captain had decided that the boat must swamp before long, the gale subsided somewhat. Daylight was welcome after the awful night. The sea had now gone down, and there was prospect of a fair day. The seas came aboard less frequently, and courage and hope returned.
At sunrise every one was overjoyed to see the ship standing in toward the land. Oars were once more shipped, and with the sail drawing good progress was made.
CHAPTER XXV
A RACE WITH THE GUARD-BOAT
Aboutan hour after sunrise the Georgette was seen coming out of Freemantle. The men knew she was searching for them, and she seemed to be heading directly for the little boat. The sail was taken down, oars shipped, and the men lay down, one on top of the other, so that nothing showed above the rail. The steamer passed within a half mile of the boat and Captain Anthony could plainly see an officer on the bridge with glasses, scanning the shore. The boat must have appeared like a log and been mistaken for a piece of floating timber, if it was seen by the men on the Georgette, for she steamed by and went out to the Catalpa.
The anxious men in the boat feared she would remain by the Catalpa and prevent them from going aboard, but the Georgette steamed up the coast after a while and swung in toward Garden Island, passing the whaleboat once more, but at a safe distance.
Oars were once more manned. Mr. Smith on the Catalpa had not sighted the boat yet, for the background of high land interfered. The men pulled for two hours, when it was seen that there was a lighter alongside the ship, and it was at first surmised that it was a fishing vessel. Captain Desmond looked intently and then exclaimed:—
"My God! There's the guard-boat, filled with police. Pass out those rifles."
The guard-boat was large, with two mutton-leg sails, and there were thirty or forty men aboard. Affairs in the whaleboat assumed a belligerent aspect. Rifles were distributed, wet cartridges drawn from revolvers and replaced with fresh, and the prisoners swore they would fight until the last man was killed.
At Desmond's cry the appearance of exhaustion vanished. Every man was alert. The crew put new vigor into the stroke of the oars. When about two and a half miles from the Catalpa, the lookout at the masthead evidently raised the whaleboat, for the Catalpa suddenly bore down with all sail set. The police evidently suspected something, for the officers ran up the sail-hoops on the mast and started after the ship, with three or four men at the sweeps to hasten her progress.
Now it was a question whether the guard-boat would intercept the small boat before the ship was reached. If this was done, there would be a fatal conflict. The rescued men tried to help at the oars, but their efforts were a detriment, and they were ordered to lie in the bottom of the boat, that they might not hamper the crew. There they lay, and hugged their rifles grimly.
There were moments of suspense, but at length it was seen that the whaleboat would reach theCatalpa. As soon as he was within hailing distance Captain Anthony shouted to Mr. Smith:—
"Hoist the ensign!"
The ensign was already bent, and one of the men jumped to the halyards and ran it to the peak.
Mr. Smith had men at the braces and managed the vessel superbly. As the boat slammed alongside, everything was thrown hard aback. The men grabbed the boat tackle and swung the forward tackle to Mr. Sylvia and the after to Captain Anthony.
The captain secured it, and, turning to order the men aboard ship, found he was alone in the boat. The prisoners had gone up the sideboards by the grip rope, with rifles and revolvers in their hands. The boat was hoisted on the davits, and as the captain stepped over the rail the guard-boat swept across the bow.
The rescued men knew the officers, and they crowded to the rail in great glee, waving their rifles and shouting salutations and farewells, calling the officers by name. The guard knew that it was useless for them to attempt to board the vessel. The officer in command accepted the result gracefully, and, giving a military salute, said "Good-morning, captain." "Good-morning," replied Captain Anthony, and the guard-boat kept off toward the shore.
The guard-boat The whaleboat with escaping prisoners The GeorgetteTHE RACE FOR THE CATALPA
There were wild scenes on board the whaleship in the next hour. The rescued men were in a state of exaltation, and cheered the captain, the crew, and everybody connected with the enterprise. If Captain Anthony, Mr. Breslin, and the others had beenreprieved from a death sentence they would have felt no greater joy and contentment. Captain Anthony and Breslin complimented Mate Smith, and the former called the steward.
"Get up the best dinner the ship can afford," he said. "We're hungry."
The steward succeeded admirably. There were canned chickens and lobsters, boiled potatoes, canned fruits, tea and coffee, and it was the most memorable dinner in the lifetime of the men who assembled. Messrs. Breslin, Desmond, and King dined with the captain, and the rescued men ate in the steerage.
Mr. Smith related that when the Georgette came alongside that morning, the captain of the English steamer asked where the boat was which was missing from the cranes. The mate replied that the captain had gone ashore. "What for?" was asked. "I don't know anything about it," said Mr. Smith. "Can I come aboard?" asked the officer. "Not by a damned sight," was Mr. Smith's reply. It was the theory of the Georgette's officers that the gale had been so violent that the small boat must have returned to land, so, leaving the guard-boat alongside, she ran in under the shore to cut off the whaleboat if possible.
After dinner Captain Anthony directed Mr. Smith to let the boat's crew go below and stay as long as the men wished.
That night the wind died out, and the topsails hung supinely from the yards, the air which breathedoccasionally from the land being unable to shake the heavy canvas. The captain gave up his room to Mr. Breslin, and Desmond and King were assigned to rooms in the forward cabin.
Captain Anthony lay down on a four-foot lounge, instructing Mr. Smith to work off shore if possible, but the ship did not move her own length during the entire night.
CHAPTER XXVI
OVERHAULED BY THE GEORGETTE
Atdaybreak Captain Anthony was called by Mr. Smith, who announced that the Georgette was approaching. Breslin was summoned, and the men hastened on deck.
As the steamer came nearer, it was seen that she had a regiment of soldiers aboard. The Georgette was a four hundred ton vessel, twice as big as the Catalpa. On her upper deck a big gun was mounted, and the soldiery were assembled on the main deck, a forest of bayonets glistening in the morning sun.
It was a show which was calculated to intimidate the men on the little whaleship, but no one on the Catalpa faltered. The captain ordered the ensign hoisted to the masthead, and mounted the poop deck.
It was seen that Colonel Harvest, heavy laden in the gorgeous trappings of a British army officer, was in charge of the deck. At one moment, when the colonel's attention was elsewhere, Captain O'Grady waved his hat at his whilom companion on a recent trip, and Captain Anthony waved his hand in response.
The next salutation was a solid shot fired acrossthe bow of the Catalpa. As it ricocheted along, the water flew as high as the masthead. Meanwhile the ship was rolling helplessly, for there was no wind. As the yards bowed to meet the water, her sails flapped and yards creaked. But now a faint breeze filled the sails, and the Catalpa began to make some headway. When she was abeam the Georgette, Colonel Harvest shouted:—
"Heave to!"
"What for?" screamed Captain Anthony in reply.
"You have escaped prisoners aboard that ship."
"You're mistaken," said Captain Anthony. "There are no prisoners aboard this ship. They're all free men."
The Georgette had a whaleboat on the davits, and the men on the whaleship assumed it was for boarding purposes. Breslin collected the rescued men together, and they determined to resist. While the above colloquy was in progress, Mr. Smith had fitted out the company with cutting spades, whaling guns, and heavy pieces of iron and logs of wood with which to sink the boat if it came alongside.
"I see the men aboard the ship now," yelled Colonel Harvest.
"You're mistaken, sir," returned Captain Anthony. "Get up, men, and show yourselves."
The men walked to the rail. "You can see for yourself they are my crew," said the captain.
"I have telegraphed the American government, and have orders to seize you," was the colonel's next announcement.
Captain Anthony knew this was impossible and made no reply.
"Are you going to heave to?" asked the colonel.
"No, sir," replied Captain Anthony firmly.
The Georgette was on the lee of the Catalpa. The wind was freshening and the Georgette was steaming to keep up.
"Don't you know you have violated the colonial laws?" asked Colonel Harvest.
"No, sir," answered Captain Anthony; at which the colonel seemed greatly enraged.
"I'll give you fifteen minutes in which to heave to," said he, "and I'll blow your masts out unless you do so. I have the means to do it."
He pointed to the gun, which the soldiers were swabbing, preparatory to reloading.
"This ship is sailing under the American flag and she is on the high seas. If you fire on me, I warn you that you are firing on the American flag." This was Captain Anthony's reply.
The vessels were now about eighteen miles offshore. On the tack upon which she was sailing the Catalpa was running inshore. Captain Anthony feared it was the trick to decoy him into Australian waters, and decided to go about on the other tack. He consulted with Mr. Smith whether it was advisable to tack or wear ship, his fear of the former course being that the vessel might get "in irons" and lose her headway, and in the confusion the Georgette might shoot alongside.
So it was decided to wear. When the Catalpa'screw hauled up the clews of the mainsail, hauled down the head of the spanker, and let the gafftopsail run down, the officers on the Georgette evidently thought the Catalpa proposed to haul back, and the steamer was stopped.
Then Captain Anthony put the wheel up, and the vessel swung off quickly and headed straight for the Georgette, going before the wind. The captain of the steamer construed this as an attempt to run him down. He rang the jingle-bell and went ahead at full speed, but when the Catalpa swung by him, her flying jibboom just cleared the steamer's rigging. The ship's sails filled on the other tack and the Catalpa headed offshore.
The Georgette again steamed under the bark's lee. Colonel Harvest once more asked the captain if he proposed to "heave to," and the captain once more replied that he did not. The steamer followed for an hour, Colonel Harvest walking the bridge. Then the Georgette stopped. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon. The wind was fair and fresh, and constantly increasing.
When the Catalpa was some distance away, Captain Anthony called to the rescued men, "Boys, take a good look at her. Probably you'll never see her again." When the vessels were a few miles apart, the Georgette steamed back towards Freemantle, leaving a grateful and thankful party behind.
"When the English commander gave the order to his stokers to slack down the fires, a veritablefeu d'enfer, the battle ended," said the "KilkennyJournal," in describing the incident. "But it was a terrible affray, and while the firing lasted there was a tremendous expenditure of coals. Every credit is due the Georgette. She steered off in magnificent style. As it turned a stern lookout upon its foe, the banner of Britain displayed its folds, and the blazoned lion, shimmering in the sun, seemed to make a gesture of defiance with his tail, by curving it between his heels."
And the Catalpa sailed serenely on, and the star-spangled banner floated bravely in the breeze.
CHAPTER XXVII
BOUND HOME
Thatnight the Catalpa took a squall from the eastward which developed into a gale, and the bark ran before it under two lower topsails and a foresail. In forty-eight hours the vessel was four hundred miles off the coast.
This led the leaders of the rescue to appreciate their extreme good fortune, for if the gale had arisen the night the Catalpa left Bunbury, Captain Anthony and his crew would not have been waiting on the beach at Rockingham to receive the fleeing prisoners. The police, closely following, would have rearrested the men, Breslin and his followers would have been arrested, and disaster would have been the result of the year of anxiety and the expenditure of a fortune contributed largely by men who gave at considerable sacrifice. England would have been exultant at having captured the man who released Stephens, and the Clan-na-Gael would have suffered bitterly from the ignominy.
The day after the storm, April 19, Captain Anthony had two casks of clothing hoisted on deck. They were the best "slops" (the whaleman's vernacular for clothes and supplies) ever put aboard awhaling vessel. The casks' heads were taken out, and Captain Anthony said to the men, "Go in and help yourselves. Take all you care for, and you'll need the thickest, for you'll see some cold weather before you reach America." Each man selected at least two suits of clothing, as well as a large supply of underclothes.
The rigging-pen between decks was knocked down and two tiers of berths were built, one for each of the rescued men, from the lumber bought at Teneriffe. They were amply supplied with bedding, seats and tables were built, and a boy from the forecastle was assigned to attend the men.
The vessel was kept well to the northward, to take advantage of the southeast trade-winds, which were taken in lat. 24°. Then fresh and fair winds wafted the vessel across the Indian Ocean. At times the old Catalpa logged two hundred miles a day, although she was not regarded as a fast sailor.
The men were given the freedom of the ship and thoroughly enjoyed the liberty which had been restored to them. Mr. Breslin wrote a song which the men were wont to sing as they lay on the decks on warm evenings. These were the words:—
"Right across the Indian Ocean, while the trade-wind follows fast,Speeds our ship with gentle motion; fear and chains behind us cast.Rolling home! rolling home! rolling home across the sea;Rolling home to bright Columbia; home to friends and liberty."Through the waters blue and bright, through dark wave and hissing foam,Ever onward, with delight, we are sailing still for home.O'er our pathway, in the sunshine, flies the wide-winged albatross,O'er our topmast, in the moonlight, hangs the starry Southern Cross."By the stormy cape now flying, with a full and flowing sail,See the daylight round us dying on the black breast of the gale!See the lightning flash above us and the dark surge roll below!Here's a health to those who love us! Here's defiance to the foe!"Now the wide Atlantic clearing with our good ship speeding free,The dull 'Cape of Storms' we're leaving far to eastward on our lee.And as homeward through the waters the old Catalpa goes,Ho! you fellows at the masthead, let us hear once more, "She blows.""Next by lonely St. Helena, with a steady wind we glideBy the rock-built, sea-girt prison, where the gallant Frenchman died,With the flying fish and porpoise sporting 'round us in the wave,With the starry flag of freedom floating o'er us bright and brave."Past 'The Line,' and now the dipper hangs glittering in the sky.Onward still! In the blue water, see, the gulf weed passing by.Homeward! Homeward to Columbia, blow you, steady breezes, blow,'Till we hear it, from the masthead, the joyful cry, "Land ho!"
Mr. Farnham, the second mate, died suddenly of heart disease on the 8th of May, and was buried at sea the following day. He had been a faithful man, and there was sincere sorrow throughout the ship's company.
THE CATALPA HOMEWARD BOUNDRunning before a Gale
Captain Anthony made his course for the south end of Madagascar, and stood well inshore in rounding the cape, across the Agulhas Banks, to receive the advantage of the current which sets into the Atlantic Ocean. Here severe winter weather wasencountered. Then the "trades" were welcomed once more, and the Catalpa sailed on with a fleet of twenty-one merchant vessels, all following the same course.
Naturally the bark gave St. Helena a wide berth, since the neighborhood of a British possession was to be avoided. Subsequently it was learned that an English warship awaited the Catalpa at this point. There is an English naval station at Ascension, and Captain Anthony was likewise shy of a near approach to the island.
On July 10 the Catalpa crossed the equator into the North Atlantic on long. 31° west. "You're almost American citizens now," remarked the captain to the men on this day.
Sperm whales were seen occasionally, and the boats were twice lowered, but the men were impatient to proceed, and little loitering was indulged.
After running out of the northeast trades, Captain Anthony proposed to Mr. Breslin that the vessel should make a business of cruising for whale for a while. "Now is just the season," said he, "for whaling on the Western Grounds. We are well enough fitted, excepting that we lack small stores, and we have plenty of money to buy from other vessels. I know the whaling grounds, and by hauling up to the northward we are almost certain to pick up a few hundred barrels of oil, and the voyage can be made as successful financially as it has been in other respects." Mr. Breslin agreed to this, and the course was made north by east. The men noticed the change in direction, and pleaded that they might be put ashore without any delay, and after a day or two it was decided to yield to their wishes; orders were given to keep her off, and the bark was once more homeward bound.
In the height of a savage gale the Catalpa passed Bermuda, and a few days later the lead showed that the vessel was approaching the coast. Then a pilot came aboard, and he was greatly surprised to find the destination to be New York, inasmuch as the vessel was a whaleship. But Captain Anthony and Mr. Breslin had agreed that this was the best place to land the men. Sandy Hook was eighty miles away. At sixP.M.an ocean tug was spoken, which offered to tow the vessel into New York harbor for $250, but after considerable dickering the price was reduced to $90, and it was accepted.
CHAPTER XXVIII
A CORDIAL RECEPTION
Meanwhilethe story of the rescue had been telegraphed to New York, and reporters swarmed aboard at quarantine, which was reached at midnight. Captain Anthony did not know what the situation might be or how much it would be wise for him to tell, and the reception of the newspaper men was one of the most arduous experiences of the voyage. But their editions were waiting, and they could not delay long. At two o'clock on the morning of August 19, 1876, the Catalpa anchored off Castle Garden.
Captain Anthony and Mr. Breslin went ashore at sunrise in one of the boats and first went to the hotel of O'Donovan Rossa, which was a headquarters for men affiliating with the Clan-na-Gael. The first person whom they met in the office, singularly enough, was a man who was a prisoner in Australia at the time of the rescue, but who was subsequently released and arrived in this country by steamer. He received the rescuers with enthusiasm. Various leaders were summoned, and the captain and Mr. Breslin were warmly welcomed.
Later in the morning Captain Anthony went tothe barge office and secured a permit to land his passengers. When he returned to the Catalpa she was surrounded by small boats, for the morning newspapers had told of her presence in port, and there was much curiosity to see her.
"Men," said Captain Anthony, as he stepped on the deck, "I have a permit for you to go ashore, and you are at liberty to go when you please."
"God bless you, captain, you've saved our lives," said Darragh, and in a few minutes the company left in the shore boat, in high spirits.
Meanwhile Captain Anthony had communicated with Mr. Richardson, and he was instructed to leave the vessel in New York and return home, for his friends were anxious to see him. The local branch of the Clan-na-Gael, with representatives of other Irish societies, had been meeting nightly, arranging a reception to the gallant rescuer, and he was received at the train by thousands of people on the Sunday morning of his return.
They were shocked at the changed appearance of the captain. When he left New Bedford, sixteen months before, he weighed 160 pounds and his hair was black as coal. The months of worry and intense excitement had worn upon him to such an extent that his weight was now reduced to 123 pounds and his hair was sprinkled with gray.
A few days after Captain Anthony arrived home, the following circular reached the office of the chief of police in New Bedford:—
POLICE DEPARTMENT.
Chief Office, Perth, Western Australia,April 18, 1876.
James Darragh, 9707, life sentence, 2d March, 1866, aged 42, Fenian, absconded from Freemantle, 8.30A.M., April 17, 1876.Martin Hogan, 9767, sentence, life, August 21, 1866, aged 37, Fenian, absconded as above.Michael Harrington, 9757, life sentence, July 7, 1866, 48 years, Fenian, absconded as above.Thomas Hassett, 9758, life sentence, June 26, 1866, Fenian, absconded, etc.Robert Cranston, 9702, life sentence, June 26, 1866, Fenian, absconded, etc.James Wilson, 9915, life sentence, Aug. 20, 1866, age 40, absconded, etc.
James Darragh, 9707, life sentence, 2d March, 1866, aged 42, Fenian, absconded from Freemantle, 8.30A.M., April 17, 1876.
Martin Hogan, 9767, sentence, life, August 21, 1866, aged 37, Fenian, absconded as above.
Michael Harrington, 9757, life sentence, July 7, 1866, 48 years, Fenian, absconded as above.
Thomas Hassett, 9758, life sentence, June 26, 1866, Fenian, absconded, etc.
Robert Cranston, 9702, life sentence, June 26, 1866, Fenian, absconded, etc.
James Wilson, 9915, life sentence, Aug. 20, 1866, age 40, absconded, etc.
N.B.—Martin Hogan's marks include the letter D on his left side; so do those of Michael Harrington, Thomas Hassett, and James Wilson.
Sir,—I beg to inform you that on the 17th instant the imperial convicts named in the margin absconded from the convict settlement at Freemantle, in this colony, and escaped from the colony in the American whaling bark Catalpa, G. Anthony master. This bark is from New Bedford, Massachusetts, U.S.A. The convicts were taken from the shore in a whaleboat belonging to the Catalpa, manned by Captain Anthony and six of the crew. The abettors were Collins, Jones, and Johnson.I attach the description of each of the absconders, and have to request that you will be good enough to furnish me with any particulars you may be able to gather concerning them.I have the honor to be, sir,Your obedient servant,M.A. Smith,Supt. of Police.To the Officer in charge of the Police Department, }New Bedford, Massachusetts, U.S.A. }
Sir,—I beg to inform you that on the 17th instant the imperial convicts named in the margin absconded from the convict settlement at Freemantle, in this colony, and escaped from the colony in the American whaling bark Catalpa, G. Anthony master. This bark is from New Bedford, Massachusetts, U.S.A. The convicts were taken from the shore in a whaleboat belonging to the Catalpa, manned by Captain Anthony and six of the crew. The abettors were Collins, Jones, and Johnson.
I attach the description of each of the absconders, and have to request that you will be good enough to furnish me with any particulars you may be able to gather concerning them.
I have the honor to be, sir,
Your obedient servant,M.A. Smith,Supt. of Police.
To the Officer in charge of the Police Department, }New Bedford, Massachusetts, U.S.A. }
It was addressed to "The Officer in charge of Police Department, New Bedford, Massachusetts, United States, America."
Now Captain Henry C. Hathaway was at this time chief of police, and in view of the fact that he had been rather intimately connected with the enterprise, it may be believed that he was not unduly zealous in assisting the Australian authorities.
The Catalpa, in charge of a pilot, sailed to New Bedford. The scene on her return was very different from that at her departure. She arrived at the old whaling port on the afternoon of August 24th. She was sighted as she came into the bay, and the news of her approach attracted thousands of people to the wharves. A salute of seventy guns was fired as the bark sailed up the river, and when she was made fast to the dock, men and women swarmed aboard and carried away everything which was not too large for souvenirs.
On the following evening a reception was tendered Captain Anthony at Liberty Hall, and the auditorium was crowded with cheering, enthusiastic people. The stage was decorated with the American flag and the flag of Ireland. John McCullough called the meeting to order, and the officers were as follows:—
President.—Dr. Stephen W. Hayes.
Vice-Presidents.—John McCullough, Michael F. Kennedy, Hugh J. McDonald, Neil Gallagher, John F. Edgerton, James Carroll, Jeremiah Donohue, Michael Murphy, John Sweeney, William Morrissey, Edmund Fogarty, James Clary, Michael F. McCullough, Antone L. Sylvia, Patrick Cannavan, James Sherry, John Agnew, John Welch.
Secretaries.—Patrick Haley, Peter O'Connell, and John Green.
John Boyle O'Reilly was present, and Captain Anthony was the guest of honor. Mr. Smith, the Catalpa's mate, and Thomas Hassett, one of the rescued men, were also present.
Dr. Hayes expressed his gratitude that the political prisoners were now in the land of the free, where the flag which protected them on the Catalpa would continue to protect them as long as it waved.
O'Reilly's address on this occasion was one of his most eloquent efforts, and it is to be regretted that it is not preserved in its entirety. The summaries which were printed in the newspapers do him very inadequate justice.
He said that it was with no ordinary feelings that he had come. He owed to New Bedford no ordinary debt, and he would gladly have come a thousand miles to do honor to New Bedford whalemen. Seven years of liberty, wife, children, and a happy home in a free country were his debt of gratitude, and when the close of his sentence came, in 1886, his debt to New Bedford might be grown too heavy to bear.
They were there, he said, to do honor to Captain Anthony, to show their gratitude to the man who had done a brave and wonderful deed. The self-sacrifice and unfailing devotion of him who had taken his life in his hand and beached his whaleboat on the penal colony, defying its fearful laws, defying the gallows and the chain-gang, in order to keepfaith with the men who had placed their trust in him,—this is almost beyond belief in our selfish and commonplace time.
There were sides to this question worth looking at, he continued. To Irishmen it was significant in manifold ways, one of which was that these men, being soldiers, could not be left in prison without demoralizing the Irishmen in the English army, who would not forget that their comrades had been forsaken and left to die in confinement, when the civilian leaders of the movement had been set free. But the spirit that prompted their release was larger and nobler than this, and its beauty could be appreciated by all men, partaking as it did of the universal instinct of humanity to love their race and their native land.
England said that the rescue was a lawless and disgraceful filibustering raid. Not so, said Mr. O'Reilly. If these men were criminals, the rescue would be criminal. But they were political offenders against England, not against law, or order, or religion. They had lain in prison for ten years, with millions of their countrymen asking their release, imploring England, against their will to beg, to set these men at liberty. Had England done so it would have partially disarmed Ireland. A generous act by England would be reciprocated instantly by millions of the warmest hearts in the world. But she was blind, as of old; blind and arrogant and cruel. She would not release the men; she scorned to give Ireland an answer. She called the prisoners cowardly criminals, not political offenders.
After the ship sailed and there was a long time when no tidings came, O'Reilly said that doubts and fears came, as they were sure to do; but Captain Hathaway said once and always of Captain Anthony: "The man who engaged to do this will keep that engagement, or he won't come out of the penal colony."
After describing some of his own experiences in Australia, Mr. O'Reilly pointed to the bronzed and worn face of Mr. Hassett, one of the rescued prisoners, and said: "Look at that man sitting there. Six years ago he escaped from his prison in the penal colony and fled into the bush, living there like a wild beast for a whole year, hunted from district to district, in a blind but manful attempt to win his liberty. When England said the rescue was illegal, America could answer, as the anti-slavery men answered when they attacked the Constitution, as England herself answered in the cause of Poland: 'We have acted from a higher law than your written constitution and treatise,—the law of God and humanity.' It was in obedience to this supreme law that Captain Anthony rescued the prisoners, and pointed his finger at the Stars and Stripes, when the English commander threatened to fire on his ship.
"The Irishman," concluded Mr. O'Reilly, "who could forget what the Stars and Stripes have done for his countrymen deserves that in time of need that flag shall forget him."
Then Mr. Hassett described the bravery of Captain Anthony, and pictured him as he held the steering oar on the night of the gale, risking his life for the men. He could never amply express his gratitude to Captain Anthony, he said, and he was sure that New Bedford never produced a braver sailor.
Meanwhile there were similar demonstrations throughout the country. At San Francisco a mass meeting of Irish citizens passed resolutions of sympathy for the prisoners and took steps for increasing the relief fund which had been started.
The Robert Emmet Association of Troy, N.Y., fired a salute in honor of the safe arrival of the Catalpan six. At Woonsocket the wildest enthusiasm prevailed; meetings were held and salutes fired. The Emmet Skirmishing Club of Sillery Cove, Quebec, held a congratulatory meeting, and the Shamrock Benevolent Society of St. Louis, one of the largest Irish Catholic societies in the West, adopted resolutions of honor to Captain Anthony.
The news of the rescue had been slow in reaching England, and as late as May 22 a debate was in progress in Parliament on the release of the political prisoners in Australia. Disraeli was the first lord of the Treasury, and he had been asked to advise her Majesty to extend her royal mercy to the prisoners who were suffering punishment from offenses in breach of their allegiance.
In a speech Disraeli said the men sent to Australia were "at this moment enjoying a state of existence which their friends in this house are quite prepared to accept." The Irish members shouted "No." But Mr. Disraeli was right and the Irishmembers were wrong, for the men were on the deck of an American vessel as he spoke, free from English authority.
On the morning after Disraeli's speech Boucicault wrote a letter to the "London Telegraph" which was read with much interest. He wrote:—
The reply made by Mr. Disraeli last night to the 134 members who pleaded for the amnesty of the Irish prisoners should not be regarded as wholly unsatisfactory. His speech was in the gentle spirit of an apology, formed of excuses for the delay of the Government in acceding to the wishes of the people of Ireland. But the manner of this fluent and eloquent speaker was exceedingly hopeful. He hesitated, wandered, halted, lost his way, and turned about in distress. A leading member observed in my hearing that he had never seen him so confused. He said there were only fifteen prisoners; that two of them could not be regarded as political offenders, because in the act of rebellion they had shed blood, and therefore were ordinary murderers. (He did not add they were no more entitled to consideration than Oliver Cromwell, whose statue graces the House.) Then turning to the thirteen prisoners—of these six were imprisoned in England and seven in Western Australia—these men, he assured the House, were so comfortable where they were, so happy, so well off, that really their liberation would be a misfortune to them, rather than a boon.It is a rule in literary composition that, when asubstantive expresses vigorously the full scope and meaning of an idea, we weaken its effect by the addition of an adjective. So would any remark, or even a note of admiration detract from the rule of this astounding proposition. It should be left alone in a space of silence. The lameness and impotency of the speaker made an eloquent impression on the House, for the lameness seemed that of one who declined to trample on the prostrate, and the impotency was that of a kind and just man who could not find words to frame a cruel sentence.Your obedient servant,Dion Boucicault.London, May 23.
The reply made by Mr. Disraeli last night to the 134 members who pleaded for the amnesty of the Irish prisoners should not be regarded as wholly unsatisfactory. His speech was in the gentle spirit of an apology, formed of excuses for the delay of the Government in acceding to the wishes of the people of Ireland. But the manner of this fluent and eloquent speaker was exceedingly hopeful. He hesitated, wandered, halted, lost his way, and turned about in distress. A leading member observed in my hearing that he had never seen him so confused. He said there were only fifteen prisoners; that two of them could not be regarded as political offenders, because in the act of rebellion they had shed blood, and therefore were ordinary murderers. (He did not add they were no more entitled to consideration than Oliver Cromwell, whose statue graces the House.) Then turning to the thirteen prisoners—of these six were imprisoned in England and seven in Western Australia—these men, he assured the House, were so comfortable where they were, so happy, so well off, that really their liberation would be a misfortune to them, rather than a boon.
It is a rule in literary composition that, when asubstantive expresses vigorously the full scope and meaning of an idea, we weaken its effect by the addition of an adjective. So would any remark, or even a note of admiration detract from the rule of this astounding proposition. It should be left alone in a space of silence. The lameness and impotency of the speaker made an eloquent impression on the House, for the lameness seemed that of one who declined to trample on the prostrate, and the impotency was that of a kind and just man who could not find words to frame a cruel sentence.
Your obedient servant,Dion Boucicault.
London, May 23.
The rescue was the subject of very savage comment in the English newspapers, and some of the editorials are reprinted in the Appendix.
Invitations to attend various functions in honor of the rescue poured in upon Captain Anthony, and he found himself a hero with the Irish people throughout the world, a position in which he stands to-day, for the debt has never been forgotten. That the valiant deed still lives in the memory, it may be said that ten thousand people in Philadelphia greeted the captain last summer, on the occasion of the presentation to the Clan-na-Gael societies of the flag which flew over the Catalpa on the day when the British were defied. Here is the story printed in the "Philadelphia Times" on the date of August 6, 1895:—
The green flag of Ireland, entwined with the Stars and Stripes, floated proudly over the main entrance to the Rising Sun Park yesterday and gave greeting to ten thousand people who joined in the annual Clan-na-Gael celebration. The multitude came from all sections of the city, and all the suburban towns and the adjoining counties sent large contingents of Clan-na-Gael sympathizers. The management made every possible provision for the entertainment of those present, and spared neither expense nor time in making the celebration a success, giving big prizes to the field and track athletes from many sections of the Union and from Canada who took part in the sporting events.
The grounds were decorated possibly on a more elaborate scale than on any former occasion. Exclusive of what the track and field provided in the way of amusement, there were pastimes for the younger and older folks, such as tenpin alleys, merry-go-rounds, baseball, and swings. There were several bands of music, one for those who occupied seats on the pavilion from which the track and field sports could be seen, and two others on the dancing platform.
The great feature of the day's exercises, and that which attracted the most attention, were the introduction of Captain George S. Anthony and the presentation by him to the Clan-na-Gaels of the flag which floated from the masthead of the whaling bark Catalpa, which had on board the political prisoners rescued from the penal settlement of WesternAustralia, when it was overtaken by a British gunboat. Captain Anthony presented the flag from a temporary platform erected on the tracks, and after it had been accepted in behalf of the Clan-na-Gael the scene was one of great enthusiasm. Luke Dillon, president of the Irish American Club, introduced Captain Anthony, and almost simultaneously the old Stars and Stripes were unfurled to the breeze and the band seated on the grand stand played the "Star-Spangled Banner." About four thousand people joined in singing the anthem, and the Clan-na-Gael Guards fired two volleys as a salute.
On the platform were seated State Senator James C. Vaughn, of Scranton; Michael J. Breslin, a brother of John J. Breslin, who had charge of the land part of the Catalpa expedition; Martin Hogan, of New York, Thomas Darragh, and Robert Cranston, three of the rescued prisoners; Dr. William Carroll, William Francis Roantree, John Devoy, J.J. Thompson, Major Fitzpatrick, of Trenton, N.J.; Michael Gribbel, of Jersey City; Bernard Masterson, Eugene Buckley, and Michael J. Gribble, of Pittsburgh.
Captain Anthony, in presenting the flag, said:—
"Twenty years ago you came to me with a request to aid you in restoring to freedom some soldiers of liberty confined in England's penal colony of Western Australia. Your story of their sufferings touched my heart, and I pledged my word as an American sailor to aid in the good work to the best of my ability."You intrusted me with the command of the bark Catalpa. I took her to the West Australia coast, and when the gallant Breslin and his trusty men had effected the rescue of their friends I brought the party safely in the ship's boat to the Catalpa and placed them on board under the shelter of the American flag. When on the high seas the commander of an armed British steamer fired a solid shot across the Catalpa's bows, demanded the surrender of the rescued men, and threatened to blow out the masts of my vessel, if I failed to comply with his demands, I refused, and told the British commander that if he fired on the American flag on the high seas he must take the consequences. He then withdrew, and I took your friends to New York, where I landed them in safety."The flag which floated over the Catalpa on that April day in 1876—the Stars and Stripes which protected the liberated men and their rescuers—I have preserved and cherished for twenty years as a sacred relic. I would fain keep it and hand it down to my children as a family heirloom, but I am confident it will be safe in the keeping of those who were associated with me in an enterprise of which we have all reason to be proud. Your countrymen have ever been loyal to the flag of the United States and ever ready to shed their blood in its defense. I, therefore, present you with this flag of the Catalpa as a memento of our common share in a good work well done and a token of the sympathy of all true Americans with the cause of liberty in Ireland. I know you will cherish it as I do, and that if the interests of that flag should ever again demand it your countrymen will be among the first to rally to its defense?"
"Twenty years ago you came to me with a request to aid you in restoring to freedom some soldiers of liberty confined in England's penal colony of Western Australia. Your story of their sufferings touched my heart, and I pledged my word as an American sailor to aid in the good work to the best of my ability.
"You intrusted me with the command of the bark Catalpa. I took her to the West Australia coast, and when the gallant Breslin and his trusty men had effected the rescue of their friends I brought the party safely in the ship's boat to the Catalpa and placed them on board under the shelter of the American flag. When on the high seas the commander of an armed British steamer fired a solid shot across the Catalpa's bows, demanded the surrender of the rescued men, and threatened to blow out the masts of my vessel, if I failed to comply with his demands, I refused, and told the British commander that if he fired on the American flag on the high seas he must take the consequences. He then withdrew, and I took your friends to New York, where I landed them in safety.
"The flag which floated over the Catalpa on that April day in 1876—the Stars and Stripes which protected the liberated men and their rescuers—I have preserved and cherished for twenty years as a sacred relic. I would fain keep it and hand it down to my children as a family heirloom, but I am confident it will be safe in the keeping of those who were associated with me in an enterprise of which we have all reason to be proud. Your countrymen have ever been loyal to the flag of the United States and ever ready to shed their blood in its defense. I, therefore, present you with this flag of the Catalpa as a memento of our common share in a good work well done and a token of the sympathy of all true Americans with the cause of liberty in Ireland. I know you will cherish it as I do, and that if the interests of that flag should ever again demand it your countrymen will be among the first to rally to its defense?"