IRISH HOSPITALITY.
Some months later the ministry decided to deport the American
prisoners, and the captain of the _Solebay_, man-of-war, was ordered to
take the prisoners back to America under sealed orders.
It was a pleasant change to leave the barrack prison, even for
captivity on board a man-of-war.
Gradually the strictness had relaxed and the prisoners were treated
better, and Allen fully believed that the meaning of the return to
America was that they were to be liberated in exchange.
The master of arms on the _Solebay_ was an Irishman named Michael
Gilligan, and the vessel had only been out two nights when Gilligan
sought Allen and offered him his friendship.
"And it's meself as would be a rebel if I were free, but, bad cess to
it, I was pressed, and so I made the best of a bad job, and will fight
for the flag because it is my duty."
"I admire a brave Englishman----" Allen commenced, but was cut short
with the remark:
"I'm not an Englishman, but I'm Irish, and my people are all rebels.
Will ye let me be your friend?"
"I shall be only too pleased."
"Then you'll berth with me. Sure it's not such a place as I'd like to
be offering you, but it's better than this."
Gilligan held a similar rank to that of a sergeant of a regiment, and
was a man of considerable importance on board.
He had a berth between decks, inclosed in canvas, and, as it was large,
Allen had plenty of room.
When Cork, or rather the Cove of Cork, now called Queenstown, was
reached and the _Solebay_ cast anchor, the rumor spread through the
cove that a number of American rebels were on board.
Allen was standing on deck looking over the finest harbor in Europe,
when his attention was called to a small boat hailing the war ship.
Some men climbed up on deck and asked for Col. Allen, of America.
Allen was so close that he could not help hearing, and he answered that
he was Ethan Allen.
John Hays, a merchant of Cork, clasped Allen's hand and tried to speak,
but, instead of words, tears flowed down his cheeks and his voice was
choked.
When he did master his emotion he exclaimed, with patriarchal fervor:
"Heaven bless you and all brave men like you who are fighting for
liberty."
He introduced his friend, merchant Clark, also of Cork, and said their
mission was to offer the patriots such things as they stood in need of.
Clothes, or money, or food would be willingly given if Allen would only
say what was most needed.
The offer was gratifying, and Allen expressed a wish for clothes for
the prisoners. He explained that, though prisoners for several months,
they had not received a change of clothes, and that some were
absolutely in rags.
The next day a boat well laden pulled to the _Solebay_, and suits of
clothes were found for each of the thirty-four prisoners.
A complete suit of underwear, an outer suit of warm material, an
overcoat and two extra shirts, were bestowed on each of the prisoners,
while Allen received superfine broadcloth sufficient for two jackets,
and two pairs of breaches, in addition to a suit already made. He also
received eight fine Holland shirts and socks ready made, a number of
pairs of silk hose, two pairs of shoes, two beaver hats, one of which,
richly laced with gold, came from James Bonwell, a wealthy merchant of
Cork.
On the following day the boat returned to the ship laden with wines,
spirits, sugar, tea and chocolate, a large round of picked
[Transcriber's note: pickled?] beef, a number of fat turkeys and many
other articles for Allen's personal use, while each of the men received
two pounds of tea and six pounds of sugar, with plenty of meat,
chickens and turkeys for the mess table of the prisoners.
Two days after the receipt of the stores the captain prohibited
anything more being delivered to the prisoners, and took away
everything which the men of Cork had given except the clothing.
He shouted himself hoarse about the way the rebels were being feasted.
"I heard him say," says Ethan Allen, in his autobiography, "that by all
that was holy the American rebels should not be feasted by the rebels
of Ireland."
An application was made by the Mayor of Cork for permission to be
granted to Ethan Allen to attend a banquet to be given in his honor by
the city, the mayor and ten leading citizens being willing to give bond
for his return to the ship the next morning.
The application was refused, and the captain gave order to weigh anchor
and put out to sea.
"Sure and the skipper is as hot as a roast pertater," said Gilligan;
"he thinks for sure that the rebels of Cork will take you all off the
ship by force, so he is going to put out to sea."
The _Solebay_ left Cork harbor that day and did not return.
After a long sail the shore of North Carolina was reached, and the
hearts of the Americans beat high with hope.
The captain was almost amiable, but it was with a fiendish glee caused
by the belief that the American prisoners were to be hanged on American
soil.
"I want to see," he said, to Allen, "American trees bearing the best
fruit, and plenty of it."
"I am sure I re-echo your wish," answered Allen, whereupon the captain
laughed and declared that the fruit he meant was dead Americans hanging
from the boughs.
For several weeks the _Solebay_ stayed at Cape Fear, and the prisoners
were treated with great harshness.
One morning their hopes were again raised by an order for all to appear
on deck.
"Stand in line!" ordered the officer.
The men did so and the roll was called.
"Colonel Allen, step forward!"
It was the first time he had been addressed by his title, and all
thought it meant an exchange at least.
"Now select fifteen of the most deserving men among your company, and
order them to stand out."
Allen selected the desired number.
"Thank you, Col. Allen. The fifteen will remain, the others can go
below. The fifteen will be hanged to-morrow morning at sunrise. I
thank you in the name of his majesty for having selected the most
worthy."