'Missed again. Here's better luck. Will you have a nip, Fitzgerald?'
'No, thanks; I never drink when I'm out shooting. And if I were you,
I wouldn't take any more either. It won't improve your aim.'
'Which is bad enough already. Right you are, my boy. But I admire
your cheek in saying so to me, seeing that I'm twenty years your
senior. I suppose I ought to be offended, only I'm not. But where's
the harm in a flask of whisky in a day?'
'Not the least in life, I suppose, only I've known good men broken in
my time through taking less so early in the day as this. Anyway it
doesn't make either your hand or your eye any the steadier, and one
never knows when he may want all the nerve he's got.'
The speaker was a District Inspector in the Irish Constabulary, the
other was his host, one of that race of gentlemen farmers so fast
dying out in Ireland, who had offered him a day on his grouse
mountain, the only portion of the estate that was not mortgaged up to
the hilt.
'It's about time that I was going home in any case,' continued
Fitzgerald.
'Nonsense, man,' cried his companion, 'why, the day is yet young,
there'll be light enough to shoot for another two hours, it's hardly
four o'clock. What's the hurry?'
'Well, you know that the Home Rule Bill passed its third reading in
the House of Commons last night.'
'Yes, and a nice fuss those blackguards are kicking up over it. A
mole couldn't help knowing that.'
'That's just it, on the borderland here between Protestantism and
Roman Catholicism, the Celtic and Saxon element, party feeling runs
extraordinarily high, and the people are so excited that I expect
there'll be a row to-night. They're going to have bonfires in the
streets and all kinds of games, and we'll be lucky if we get through
it without a faction fight. I have to be home and get into uniform
before the fun begins, so I hope you don't mind, but I've ordered my
man to have the car to meet me at the shebeen by the cross-roads at
half-past four.'
'Very well, in that case we'd better be making tracks. Call the dogs
to heel, Jimmie.'
The two men turned and strode down the mountain side, the keeper
bringing up the rear with the two pointers. The heather rustled
stiffly against their iron-shod boots as they went, showing behind
them a trail of bruised stalks and nail marks on the naked earth.
Every now and then, at the sound of their steps a hare rose out of
range and dodged swiftly round the corner of a knoll, shrugging her
shoulders at the hail-storm of spent shot that rattled round her. Or
a snipe rose with a startling rush and a shrill 'scape, scape' at
their feet after being nearly walked over, and zigzagged out of
sight. At the foot of the slope came a belt of rushes with bog-holes
gaping for the feet of the unwary. Beyond that was the first sign of
approaching civilization, a potato field, across the ridges of which
they strode to reach a cart-track beyond. A mile along this lay the
shebeen they were making for.
'I suppose you'll be very much in evidence to-night with your men,'
remarked Trevor idly, after a time, to break the silence.
'Now, my dear fellow, you might know better than that, after living
amongst these people all your life. There's nothing that provokes an
Irishman to make a row so much as to let him know you're ready for
him. Sheer cussedness is a much neglected factor in human nature,
and especially Irish nature. No, of course I have an extra
contingent of men in town for the occasion in case of emergency, but
my chief endeavor is always to confine them to barracks and to keep
them in the background as much as possible. Their presence only
causes friction. More than one of my friends has suffered before now
through an undue display of activity.'
'Do you mean that you don't intend to interfere at all, then?'
'Not if I can possibly help it. If I have to make even one arrest
it's all over, it will be a free fight. The wisdom of those in
authority is such, that they have placed the new barracks at the far
end of the town from the poorest, and therefore the rowdiest,
quarter. The consequence is that, to run a man in, as a general
rule, my men have to drag him about half a mile through the public
streets, and no Irish mob that was ever raked off its native
dung-heap could stand such a temptation as that.'
By this time they had reached the shebeen, a small two-roomed cottage
with moss and long grasses growing on its weather-beaten thatched
roof. The lower half of the door was shut, but over it they could
see the room inside with its hard mud floor; it was furnished with a
dresser hung with a few tin porringers and delf plates and bowls, a
bedstead and a table; on the hearth was burning a turf fire; in the
open chimney-place there swung an iron crook, from which a pot had
just been lifted and was now set in the middle of the floor; round it
the family, consisting of an old man, a girl and a boy, were gathered
upon three-legged stools for their evening meal; each was armed with
an iron spoon and a bowl of buttermilk; beside them on some embers a
tin teapot was stewing. On the left of the entrance was a half-open
door leading into the second room, inside which the sight of some
large earthenware crocks of milk and the corner of a bedstead showed
that it was used conjointly as a dairy and a sleeping chamber.
Outside the door was the car, with the groom standing at the horse's
head.
As the afternoon sun cast their long shadows across the floor of the
cottage the old man looked up and saw the two men standing on the
doorstep; he rose and opened the half door, and immediately an Irish
terrier barking furiously rushed out and attacked the two pointers,
that were behind with the keeper. In a moment the three dogs were
rolling together in the road amid a perfect hurricane of yelps.
'Call off your damned mongrel,' shouted Trevor, the veins in his neck
purple with rage on behalf of his favorite sporting dogs; but in that
rolling mass of liver and white and yellow it was impossible to
distinguish one whole animal from another. Pull off your dog,
Flannigan, or I'll shoot him,' shouted Trevor again, and with his
right thumb he pulled up the hammer of his gun, his finger on the
trigger. The old man stooped to separate the dogs; as he did so,
Trevor's thumb slipped, the hammer fell, there was a loud report, and
the whole charge of shot struck the peasant behind the shoulder at a
distance of three yards at most. He fell with a scream in the middle
of the road. The horse stood up on his hind legs pawing at the
groom. The dogs rolled into the ditch and continued to worry each
other there unnoticed. The rest stood still, stupefied.
'That's what comes of an unsteady hand,' muttered Fitzgerald grimly
to himself.
The same instant the girl rushed out of the cottage and threw herself
on her father's body. 'Ye've kilt him,' she moaned, 'ye've kilt him.'
At last Trevor recovered himself, and, advancing, laid a hand on her
shoulder. 'My good girl,' he said, 'you can't tell how sorry I am
that this has occurred. Let us see if we can't help your father. He
may not be badly hurt after all.'
'Stan' back,' cried the girl, raising her flushed face and
dishevelled hair from the dust and thrusting him violently away.
'Stan' back; don't touch him. Haven't ye done him enough av harrum
ahlready?'
'If money's any good,' said Trevor, helplessly making a fresh effort,
'here's all I have with me, and I'll give you--'
'Don't darr to offer me your dirty money,' she interrupted,
scattering the coins from his hand with a vehemence of passion that
lifted her out of herself. 'It's blood money, so it is, give me back
my father's life that ye tuk away. Didn't I hearn ye say ye'd shute
him, an' shute him ye did, an' may the curse of the fatherless rist
on ye from this day out.'
'Nonsense, girl,' said Fitzgerald hastily, 'it was a pure accident,
and Mr. Trevor never threatened to shoot your father, but only the
dog, and the gun went off by accident in his hand.'
'An accident was it? An accident?' repeated the girl. 'An' arn't
yous a polisman and you stood by and seen it done? Why don't ye
arrist him? I'll larn ye if it was an accident or not,' and she
stooped down and whispered some words in her brother's ear, her eyes
gleaming with all the fierce vindictiveness of the Celtic nature when
roused. The boy nodded silently and darted quickly off down the
road, looking back from time to time; Fitzgerald gazed uneasily after
him for a moment, then turning briskly to the keeper, he said, 'Hurry
up to the house and tell Mrs. Trevor to send down some brandy and
some linen for bandages. And you, Jackson, run across the fields to
Doherty's there behind the hill. The doctor's there now, so bring
him back with you. And you,' he continued, laying his hand on the
girl's arm, 'must let us carry your father in out of this. He can't
be left here any longer or he'll bleed to death.'
The girl stood sullenly on one side while the two men unhinged the
door, placed the old man upon it as carefully as possible, carried
him in and laid him on the bed. Then Fitzgerald cut the clothes away
from the gaping wound, tore up one of the coarse sheets, and bound
the injured part up roughly but not unskilfully. The fowls ran in
and out of the open door the while and pecked unnoticed at the pot of
potatoes upon the floor.
'I think we've done everything that can be done now,' said the D. I.
when he had finished, 'and there's no good stopping here. It's time
that I was in town, and the doctor'll be round here immediately.
I'll send the priest up to you as soon as I get there. I'm afraid I
must trouble you, Trevor, to come with me.'
'Why? What's the meaning of this?' stammered the farmer, his face
going ashen gray.
'I'm afraid that after what's happened,' answered Fitzgerald
formally, looking intently at the ground, and digging a root of grass
out of the roadway with his toe, 'that it is my duty not to let you
out of my sight.'
'Ha!' ejaculated the girl, her nostrils dilating, and a succession of
strange emotions, satisfaction, doubt and anxiety, chasing each other
rapidly across her expressive features.
The disgraced man walked towards the car and clambered up on one side
like a man in a dream, his companion mounted the other and drove
rapidly away. As soon as they were out of earshot of the girl, he
said, 'the fact is, that in the present excited state of feeling in
the country, you are much safer for a few nights in our barracks than
in your own house.' Trevor said nothing. These words explained his
companion's attitude, but it did not affect the sudden realization of
the outer consequences of his act, which had come upon him like a
blow. His senses were stunned for the time being, and only perceived
an endless vista of stone walls swiftly hurrying past.
Rounding the first corner, out of sight of the cottage, the D. I.
urged his horse to a gallop, which he kept up the whole six miles to
the town. The road consisted of a succession of steep hills joining
plateau to plateau, and leading always downwards from the higher
ground to the valley beneath. Down these the light car rattled and
bounced, jolting and swaying as either wheel passed over a larger
fragment of rock than usual; often for yards at a time their velocity
carried them along upon one wheel, the other spinning violently in
the air; the smaller stones flew to every side from the good gray
horse's hoof-strokes as he stretched to his work over the
flint-strewn road. Soon the poor beast was in a lather, but neither
of the men moved or spoke or took note of the rush fields, with the
sod walls between, that flitted past, each one so like the last that
they appeared to get not a step further on their journey. It was a
nightmare of endless sameness. Still they sat fast, the one
straining his eyes eagerly over the winding road beneath them, the
other looking straight in front of him with eyes that saw nothing and
a mind that had no room for wonder at such furious haste upon the
part of a man who was proverbially merciful to his cattle.
As they approached the town, Fitzgerald's face grew longer and
longer, and he drove ever more and more recklessly, until they had
clattered and slithered down the last hill, and sweeping round the
curve, came in sight of a figure running laboriously along the dusty
road in front of them. Then his eyes lightened, and he muttered to
himself: 'I think we can just do it; but it was a narrow squeak, I
allowed him too long a start on such a hilly road.' The figure, when
they overtook it, proved to be that of the wounded man's son; the
blood was streaming from gashes in his naked feet, where they had
been cut by the sharp flints upon the rough mountain road, and his
breath was coming in deep sobs. As the car drew abreast of him, he
caught hold of the step beneath Trevor's feet and ran by his side for
a few paces, but the driver leaned across the well of the car and
slashed at him savagely with the whip; the long, thin lash lapped
itself round the ragged body and bare legs of the lad, nearly
spinning him off his feet as it uncurled. He let go his hold with a
yell of pain, and dropped behind showing his teeth in a grin of
disappointed malevolence; but still he continued doggedly running on.
'That was Flannigan's son, surely,' said Trevor, startled out of his
trance.
'I know,' replied Fitzgerald briefly, whipping up his horse afresh,
and soon the boy was hidden from them in a rolling cloud of dust.
But on turning the next corner they found themselves at the beginning
of the long street of the little town, and he had to slacken pace
again. The roadway was blocked with heaps of wood and tar-barrels,
and behind each pane of glass in the wretched windows the length of
the street was fixed a tallow candle, in readiness for the
illumination of the evening. Groups of men were lounging about the
doorways, amongst whom were seen a few women wearing white aprons,
the badge of 'the most ancient profession in the world.'
The car threaded its way with difficulty through these varied
obstructions, the police officer and his friend being the recipients
of more than one scowling glance or smothered curse; but once clear
of them, Fitzgerald urged the horse to his speed again, and galloped
up the hill beyond.
'What's all the hurry about?' asked Trevor, now awake to his
surroundings.
'That boy is here to tell them about you,' was the reply; and he
relapsed into silence again, his position brought home to him more
forcibly than ever.
The next moment a shout was heard, followed by a hoarse roar; and
looking down the slope they could see, in the gathering dusk, a black
mass surging up the hill behind them, the white aprons gleaming in
the forefront like the feathering of surf upon a wind-blown billow.
But the barrack gates had clanged to behind them before the foremost
of their pursuers could come within reach, and the mob swept in a
torrent round the base of the building, uttering cries of rage, and
leaping up against the walls, like wolves who have been disappointed
of their prey.
'Give him up to us,' they shouted. 'We want the murdherer of Pether
Flannigan. We'll tear the heart out of the bloody tyrant.'
'The black curse be on the quality,' screamed a woman's strident
treble, high above the rest. 'Give us the man that's made orphans of
a poor man's childer, or we'll pull the whole place about yer ears.'
'Faith,' said Fitzgerald with a gentle chuckle, 'that was a near
thing; and, all things considered, I'm just as well pleased after all
that the barracks are not in the middle of their quarter to-night, or
there's no knowing what might happen.'
The whole of that night all kinds of rumors were rife in the town,
but nothing definite was ascertained. Orators declaimed to excited
crowds round the bonfires, rousing them to boiling-point. The
Catholics, especially those of the baser sort, were loud in their
accusations against Trevor, denouncing the accident as a deliberate
cold-blooded murder, and finding in it a political significance as
the last act of despairing tyranny on the part of the Saxon in
revenge for his overthrow. They swore that the man who had thus
dared to insult the hopes of a budding nation should pay for his
insolent mockery with his blood. The other party shrugged their
shoulders, and declared it would be folly to interfere with the
Nationalists in such a mood; it was hard lines on Trevor, no doubt,
but it was his own fault for being such a fool. If he were once
returned for trial, it would be all up with him; for no Irish jury
would be found to acquit him, and the Government would not dare to
interfere at such a crisis. The only hope for him was that the man
should not die at all, and that could hardly be called a hope.
The next morning, hearing that Flannigan had taken a turn for the
worse, Fitzgerald set out with a magistrate, in order to take his
deposition before the end should come. Half-way there they met the
doctor returning from his visit. He told them that the charge of
shot had completely shattered the shoulder-blade--a wound which was
not necessarily mortal in the case of a young man of strong
constitution; but at his patient's age, the shock to the system alone
was bound to prove fatal, and he was rapidly sinking, though he had
still some hours of life before him. As he was leaving, the priest
had actually arrived to administer the last offices to the dying man.
'I think,' said Fitzgerald, as the doctor drove on upon his way,
'that I'll walk up one or two of these hills. This poor beast of
mine got rather a gruelling last night, and I don't want him to have
a permanent grudge against this road;' and, to the magistrate's
surprise, he walked the whole of the remainder of the journey.
As they came up to the cottage, they could see, as once before, over
the half door into its interior. The priest was standing by the
bedside holding the vessel of holy oil in his hands; and through the
crisp morning air the last words of the sacrament of Extreme Unction
rang clear upon their ears:
'Through this holy unction,' and they could see the sweep of the
priest's arm, as he made the sign of the cross upon the sick man's
forehead, 'and through His most tender mercy the Lord pardon thee
whatever sins thou hast committed with the senses of thy body and
with the thoughts and desires of thy heart. Amen.'
'Amen,' echoed the two men, and swinging open the half door entered
the room. The priest turned from bestowing the blessing, and his
eyes fell upon the magistrate; he started, and a sudden flame of
apprehension leapt into life in his eyes, which was answered by a
smile deep down in Fitzgerald's. And then was seen a curious sight:
a conflict of religions, of parties, of races, over the dying body of
one man. Another human life was the stake.
'I have come to take your deposition,' said the magistrate, advancing
into the room to the side of the bed.
'Why, how is this?' interrupted the priest hoarsely, licking his lips
with his tongue. 'Why was I not told that this had not been done?'
'Why, what differ does it make?' asked the girl anxiously from the
foot of the bed.
The priest's nostrils distended and he opened his mouth to speak, but
restrained himself. He turned to the bed and said: 'You wish to
depose that Mr. Trevor shot you after having threatened to do so?'
'Ay,' said the man; 'he said he'd shute me, an' shute me he did.'
Anxiety gave way to triumph in the priest's eyes, but prematurely,
for the dying man's gaze followed Fitzgerald's significant look to
the sacred vessel that the priest still grasped in his hand, and he
continued--'But what is all that to me? I'm done with the affairs of
this life. I've had my absolution for all my sins thought and done.
I'm done with the wurruld an' the wurruld's done with me. I'm nat to
ate nor spake more. An' I forgive him.'
'You needn't mind about the absolution,' urged the priest in his
eagerness, letting the mask slip, and the glare of fanaticism shine
through, 'I'll see that that's made all right: I'll get you a
dispensation. But you must make some statement before you die.'
'I tell ye,' said the old man querulously, and raising himself
excitedly upon his elbow, 'I forgive him. Foreby, Misther Trevor's
bin a good master to me up to now. An' I'll make no statement. An'
I won't be stirred from that wurrud by man nor praste.' But the
effort was too much for him, and the next moment he fell back upon
the pillow gasping, the bed dyed red with his life-blood; his wound
had broken out afresh.
With a despairing cry his daughter threw herself on her knees by the
bedside, and the two laymen unbaring themselves reverently in the
presence of Death, withdrew into the open air to await his advent.
Ten minutes afterwards the old man had ceased to breathe, without
having again opened his lips.
'It's lucky for our friend Trevor,' said Fitzgerald to his companion,
as they drove thoughtfully homeward, 'that the priest made that
mistake about the sacrament, and that the Irish peasant has such an
ingrained reverence for forms. The old man was evidently set upon
his delusion, whether he got it from his daughter or no, and if he
had made that statement, you would have had to commit Trevor for
trial, and he would equally surely have been hanged. As it is, I
don't think any committal is necessary.'
'Now I know why you were so anxious to walk up all those hills,' the
magistrate dryly replied; 'but it wouldn't have done to arrive after
his death.'
'No; that wouldn't have done at all. The fat would have been in the
fire then, with a vengeance. But, as it is, they have no cause for
complaint.'
It turned out as Fitzgerald said. When the case was brought before
them for a preliminary hearing, the magistrates decided that in the
face of his victim's refusal to testify against Trevor there was no
case for a jury. At this decision there was agitation in some
quarters, and talk about class feeling and the straining of justice
on behalf of individuals; but everybody felt that both sides were
tarred with the same brush, and the Catholics no doubt perceived that
they had sold themselves: the better sort amongst them sympathized
with Trevor's misfortune, and held aloof from the more extreme
element. The matter was not vigorously pushed, and soon dropped into
oblivion.
But the incident left its permanent mark upon Trevor. He was too
soft-fibred to pass through such a fiery ordeal unscathed. Added to
the fact of having a fellow-creature's life upon his hands, a man of
his inoffensive type could not feel a whole community thirsting for
his blood and show no sign thereafter. From that day he retired
completely into himself, holding aloof from his neighbors, and within
a few months had grown old and broken down before his time.