SETTLEMENT OF THE VOYAGE
In February, 1877, Mr. Devoy, with James Reynolds, went to New Bedford
and made a liberal settlement with the crew. An average was taken of
the catch of oil by the vessels which sailed the same season with the
Catalpa, several of which had made "big cuts." The settlement with the
men was on this basis.
The Catalpa was presented to Captain Anthony, Mr. Richardson, and Henry
C. Hathaway, but her value was not great. She was eventually sold and
altered into a coal barge, coming to an ignominious end at Belize,
British Honduras, where she was condemned.
Captain Anthony's occupation was now gone, since it would be unsafe for
him to enter an English port. He was for a while an officer of the New
Bedford police force, but was appointed an inspector in the New Bedford
custom-house in President Cleveland's first term, a position which he
has since held.
Gallant John Breslin died in New York on November 18, 1888, with
the name of his country upon his lips. To the last he believed that
revolution was the only remedy for Ireland's wrongs. The announcement
of his death drew tears from Irish eyes the world over, for his burning
love of country, his chivalry and unparalleled bravery had touched the
hearts of Erin's sons and daughters. Clan-na-Gael societies telegraphed
their sorrow, and John Devoy and all the Catalpan leaders hastened to
New York to be present at the funeral exercises.
"Out of all the incidents of the so-called 'Fenian movement,'" said
the "Pilot," "the most brilliantly daring have been two rescues of
prisoners, namely, that of the chief organizer, James Stephens, from
Richmond Prison, Dublin, in 1865, and of the six military prisoners
from Western Australia last April. These two rescues are in many
ways remarkable. Unlike almost every other enterprise of Fenianism,
they have been completely successful; and when completed have been
commented on in the same way, as 'well done.' Every other attempt or
proposal has fallen through or ended with loss. The rescue of Kelley
and Deasy from the police van in Manchester was successful so far as
the release of the prisoners went; but it was bought with the lives of
Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien, and the nine years' misery of Condon. The
proposed attack on Chester Castle was discovered and prevented by the
English government. The seizure of Pigeon House Fort, with its armory,
at Dublin, never emerged from the stage of dreamland. The attempt to
blow up Clerkenwell Prison, London, to release Richard Burke, was a
disastrous failure, by which nothing was accomplished, by which many
suffered, the lives of several poor working people were sacrificed,
and the wretched lodging-house homes of others destroyed.
[Illustration: JAMES REYNOLDS
Treasurer of the Rescue Committee]
"But the rescue of James Stephens, even while the government was
gloating over his capture, was as unexpected and thorough as if the man
had vanished in smoke. No one suffered from it,--at least from English
law,--no one was arrested; neither the government nor the public ever
knew how or by whom it was accomplished. The man or men who did the
work claimed no recompense either of money or notoriety. Two thousand
pounds reward failed to elicit the slightest clew. The thing was
cleverly, cleanly, bravely done, and those who knew of it knew how to
keep the secret.
"The rescue of the six military prisoners from the penal colony of West
Australia was performed in a similar manner as to daring, silence, and
complete success. Looking back on it, no one can say that aught was
forgotten or left to chance. With admirable deliberation every inch
of the train was laid, every sporadic interest was attended to, and
the eventful rescue was carried out to the prearranged letter with
scientific precision. As in the escape of Stephens, no trail remained;
no one left in the trap; no price paid in human life or suffering. It
was a clean thing from beginning to end; it was 'well done.'"
The total expense of the expedition was about $30,000, and a fund was
raised in addition to give the rescued men a start in the new life
which had been vouchsafed to them.
APPENDIX
[_London Telegraph._]
Closely following upon the recent debate in the House of Commons on the
Fenian prisoners, still held most justly in durance, come particulars
from Western Australia of the escape of the half dozen jail-birds who,
while they were in captivity, excited so much sympathy among Irish
rebels and their abettors. Every Englishman knew that this sympathy
was misplaced, and, as a matter of fact, it turns out that it was the
very mildness of the captivity of the Hibernians in an Australian penal
settlement which made their escape so easy.
[After telling how the rescue was effected, the "Telegraph" continued:]
So the English cruiser had to return to Freemantle as empty as it left,
and the skipper of the Catalpa, who was evidently, like most Yankee
mariners, an accomplished sea lawyer, sailed off in triumph, laughing
at our scrupulous obedience to international law. This is a humiliating
result, and it is not easy to see who most deserves blame,--the sleepy
warder who allowed all the men to give him the slip and sounded no
alarm in time to overtake them on their long carriage drive, or the
authorities at Rockingham, who permitted the Catalpa to get outside
the territorial limit before stopping her. Nor is it clear what is
the next step to be taken. If the American vessel took on board the
convicts in Australia, that is in British waters, we presume that
we can insist on their rendition and on redress in some shape for a
violation of our sovereignty. We can readily conceive what would have
happened if an English vessel in the harbor of say Norfolk, Va., had
received Confederate prisoners on board, and had sailed off, daring
pursuit or arrest. Thus our government may be excused for being firm
and peremptory in calling attention to whatever violation of law
the Yankee whaler may have committed. On the other hand, there is
the consideration that the enterprising skipper of the Catalpa has,
without meaning it, done us a good turn; he has rid us of an expensive
nuisance. The United States are welcome to any number of disloyal,
turbulent, plotting conspirators, to all their silly machinations. If
these are transferred to British soil, we shall know how to deal with
them,--as we have shown already.
[_Melbourne Argus._]
The news from Western Australia confirms the suspicion that a grave
international outrage was committed in the escape of the Fenian
prisoners from Freemantle. They were actually taken away while wearing
the convict garb by the master of an American ship, who dispatched a
boat ashore for that purpose. It is impossible to suppose that a man
did not know very well what he was doing, and his proceedings are
precisely as if a French boat were to run to the hill of Portland and
take away as many convicts from there as could crowd into her. The
imperial authorities are bound to take cognizance of the episode, and
to demand a substantial redress. We shall be told, no doubt, that the
escaped convicts are political refugees, and attention may be called to
the fact that Communist convicts frequently arrive in Australia without
the permission of their gaolers. But the attempt at a parallel will
deceive no one. The Communists arrive here without any aid on our part.
They build boats and take their chance, and if the Fenians had found
their way to America, their case would be very different from what it
is. Rochefort and his companions came over, it is true, in a British
bark; but, though the complicity of the captain was suspected, it was
never proved. But with the Catalpa there is evidence of a plot; there
is testimony that the American master took his boat to an unsuspected
spot, and that he made special exertions to ship the men. The ship was
on the high seas, it is true, and outside of British jurisdiction, but
the master and his boat went to the shore, and for a felonious purpose,
and that constitutes the breach of the law of nations. The offense
is too serious, too glaring, to be overlooked, and we presume that
important communications will speedily pass between the governments of
Westminster and Washington.
[_Melbourne Advocate._]
The correspondence will be voluminous, but very courteous on both
sides, and, after being long drawn out, it will terminate in friendly
assurances; for it would never do that first cousins, bound together
by common interests, and in whose hands the great destinies of the
English-speaking race rest, should seriously quarrel over the fate of
a half dozen unfortunate Irishmen. The Slidell and Mason business was
a little more serious, and there was no quarrel over it. The cabinet
of Westminster will have a strong case for Washington in this Fenian
business, but Washington is not without a case against Westminster; for
its demand for the unconditional extradition of an American criminal
has been refused by the English government. Washington, besides, will
be apt to say that these escaped Fenians were political prisoners, and
though Great Britain may maintain the contrary, European opinion will
be decidedly against her view of the case. Something will also be said
about Communist convicts being sheltered on British soil, and after all
that can be urged on each side has been said, the whole affair will
taper down to an indivisible and invisible point, or, to use a more
homely phrase, it will end in smoke.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS
On the 12th inst., William Foley, one of the Irish political prisoners
recently confined in Western Australia, arrived in New York from
Queenstown, on the steamship Wisconsin. When the news of the escape
of the prisoners came last week, it was thought that Foley was among
the number, but it now appears that his sentence expired last January,
and he sailed from Perth, Western Australia, on the 16th of that month
for London. From London he proceeded to Dublin, and after spending a
fortnight there went to his home in Tipperary, but finding none of his
friends there except one uncle, a very old man, he went to Cork, where
he remained about ten days, when he started for New York. The following
is the substance of Foley's story, given to a "New York Herald"
reporter by the gentleman who received it:--
Toward the end of last November two gentlemen arrived in Western
Australia, and, knowing the means, at once placed themselves in
communication with the prisoners, and commenced to thoroughly survey
the ground on which they were to work. Foley, being on ticket-of-leave
at the time, and having just got out of the hospital, where he had
been suffering from heart disease, was introduced to one of them by a
friend, and on the stranger giving certain information which showed
what his mission was, an understanding was arrived at. A great deal
of delicate work had to be done, and every precaution taken to avoid
attracting the attention of the authorities, but up to the last moment
of Foley's stay in the colony not the least suspicion was aroused. The
two agents each followed a legitimate occupation, and acted in every
way as if going to make their home in Western Australia, or bent solely
on making lasting business connections with the colony, and so discreet
were their movements and conduct that no one dreamed that they were
anything but what they appeared to be. "I asked no questions," said
Foley, "and they told me nothing which I had not a right to know."
Toward the close of the spring of last year all the prisoners not on
ticket-of-leave, and two of the men who had tickets-of-leave, were sent
in from the various gangs in which they had been working through the
bush and lodged in the principal convict station at Freemantle. Their
names were James Wilson, Martin Hogan, Thomas Hassett, Thomas Darragh,
Michael Harrington, Robert Cranston, and James Kelley, life-sentenced
men, and Thomas Delaney and James McCoy, whose tickets-of-leave were
revoked. These were all, with the exception of Wilson, engaged in
constructing a reservoir within the prison of Freemantle, which is
situated on the hill, intended to supply water to the shipping in the
harbor. Wilson was training a horse for the doctor of the prison, and
this employment enabled him to go out of the prison several times each
day, and gave him many facilities for perfecting the plan of escape.
Many disappointments occurred, however, owing to unforeseen accidents,
and one golden opportunity was lost through failing to connect with a
certain ship. The ability of the agents was tested to the utmost and
the patience of the expectant prisoners was sorely tried. Still nothing
occurred to arouse the suspicion of the prison officials and no one
connected with the attempt lost heart. Two days before Foley took his
departure he had an interview with Wilson, and on the former asking
him how he should correspond with him, Wilson said, "Don't write to us
any more; I am confident we shall all follow you soon." When taking
his leave two days later neither could speak, but could only exchange
a silent but hearty shake of the hand. This was on January 16. Foley
took his passage on a sailing vessel for London, and after a voyage of
ninety-four days arrived in that city.
Though he could not feel sure that all had escaped, Foley expressed
the greatest confidence in the safety of those who had got on board the
American ship. The Georgette, which was sent in pursuit of the Catalpa,
according to the statements of the Sydney papers, telegraphed here
from San Francisco, is only a small screw steamer, built on the Clyde,
about two hundred tons burthen, which is employed in carrying the mails
from Champion Bay, the most northern settlement in West Australia,
to King George's Sound, which is the most southerly point at which
vessels call in the same colony, and she is manned by only ten men at
the most,--ordinary sailors who never saw any service. In Perth and
Freemantle there are not more than thirty policemen at any time, and
if all of these went on board the Georgette the released soldiers and
their friends could make short work of them in a hand-to-hand fight.
The only artillery in the colony is in Perth--four old nine-pounders
belonging to a company of volunteers, the members of which live
scattered through the surrounding country and could not be got together
at a short notice. There are about forty retired soldiers living in
the neighborhood of Perth, but they are all old men, and could not be
collected at any shorter notice than the volunteers.
It would take some time to unlimber the guns, get the Georgette ready
and prepare for a pursuit, and the point on the coast selected for
a rendezvous, according to arrangements made previous to Foley's
departure, is about twenty-five miles from Freemantle. Everything
considered, it would take several days to enable the Georgette to start
in pursuit, and by that time the Catalpa, or any other vessel on which
they might be, would be beyond her reach. Then the Georgette could not
be provisioned for a long cruise, nor could the police force nor the
pensioners be spared from the colony for any length of time, and there
was no ship of war at all in the neighborhood. Altogether the chances
of the recapture of the prisoners by the Georgette appear to be very
remote, even if she would risk boarding an American ship on the high
seas. Boats had been already secured when Foley left, to accommodate
all the prisoners and convey them out to sea so that they might not get
on board any ship in British waters. "The news," said Foley, "seems
too good to be true; it is so short a time since I saw them within the
prison walls, and all I can say is, God speed them on their way, and
may God bless the Yankee captain who took them aboard."
Foley is thirty-eight years of age, and enlisted in 1853 in the Bombay
Horse Artillery, under the East India Company, and served all through
the Sepoy rebellion. In 1859 he returned to England, and soon after
reënlisted in the Fifth Dragoon Guards, in which regiment he remained
until his arrest for Fenianism in February, 1866. He is a simple, quiet
man, but known by his comrades to be a man of indomitable courage.
Before his imprisonment he was a man of magnificent physique, being six
feet in height and splendidly proportioned. At present he is reduced
considerably, through the terrible ordeal through which he has passed,
and very little of that soldier's strut so characteristic of British
cavalrymen can be noticed in him.--_Pilot_, June 24, 1876.
CAPTAIN ANTHONY OF THE CATALPA
The remarkable story printed in this week's "Pilot," from the pen of
the chief agent in the rescue of the prisoners, makes it clear that the
captain of the whaling bark Catalpa is a man of extraordinary nerve and
integrity. Captain George S. Anthony is a young man, scarcely thirty
years of age; a silent, unassuming sailor. There is nothing in his
appearance, except, perhaps, the steadiness of the deeply-sunken dark
eye, to tell that in a moment of pending danger that would frighten
brave men this one would take his life in his hand, and, with his
usual quiet air, steer into the very jaws of destruction.
When the Catalpa lay off the coast of the penal colony, at the
appointed place for the rescue, Captain Anthony did not, as he might
have done, send one of his officers in command of the boat that was to
land on the dangerous coast. With a picked crew of his whalemen, the
captain took the steering-oar himself. When he had reached the shore,
a man who had been watching the incoming boat informed him that he had
passed over a terrible danger; that right in the line he had crossed
lay a fatal reef, over which no boat had ever before sailed in safety.
Had this information not been given, it is almost certain that the
entire boat's crew, with the rescued prisoners, would have been lost,
for Captain Anthony would certainly have sailed out as he had entered,
and in that event the bones of the brave fellows would now be whitening
on the ledges of the reef. When the escaped prisoners arrived, and the
frail boat again put to sea, the firm hand of the captain still held
the steering-oar. The night came down, the wind rose, and the water
lashed over the deep-laden boat. They could not see the ship's lights,
but steered blindly into the darkness. There was no choice of roads.
Behind them was the chain-gang for the rescuers and the gallows for the
absconders. The morning came, and the drenched and weary men, instead
of a bark, saw a gunboat in pursuit. They were grateful then for the
rising waves, in the troughs of which their little boat escaped the
watchful eyes of the pursuit. The trained skill of the seaman was here
invaluable. He knew that a boat might escape being seen from the deck
of a ship, though only a short distance away. He lowered his sail, and
got into the wake of the gunboat, the point where they would be least
likely to look. And when the gunboat steamed away, and the smaller
police-cutter hove in sight and bore straight down on the whaleboat,
trying to cut them off from the ship, Captain Anthony shouted
encouragement to his tired men, calling them by name, using all the
whaleman's arts to urge his hands in the last spurt before the whale
is struck--till he saw that they had distanced the cutter by a few
terrible yards, and were safe alongside the Catalpa. For thirty hours
Captain Anthony had held the steering-oar of his whaleboat.
It is a splendid story of endurance and devotion to duty. The brave man
had undertaken to rescue these prisoners, and he held to his engagement
with a manly faith that neither danger nor death could appall. To
the rescued he was not bound by ties of race or nationality; but he
knew they were political prisoners, cruelly held in bondage; and the
seaman's heart, made generous by intercourse with foreign lands, felt
deeply the bond of humanity, regardless of Celtic or Anglo-Saxon
promptings.
It must not be forgotten that by this achievement Captain Anthony has
destroyed his career as a whaleman. He has placed himself beyond the
pale of every British harbor in the world. He can no more follow his
profession in the South Sea or in the Indian Ocean, for nearly every
port at which the whaleships get supplies are possessions of the
British Crown. By this one act, done for Irishmen, Captain Anthony has
literally thrown away the years and experience that have made him one
of the best whalemen in New Bedford.
The Irish people of America should not forget this, nor allow such a
debt to remain against their name. CAPTAIN ANTHONY SHOULD GET SUCH A
TESTIMONIAL AS WILL PUT HIM BEYOND THE NECESSITY OF EVER GOING TO SEA
AGAIN. Unless this be done, the brave man has ruined his future in the
interests of a selfish and ungrateful people. If the masses of our
people would contribute each a mite--ten cents apiece--enough would
be done. At the meetings of Irish societies throughout the country,
subscriptions of this kind might be raised; and local treasurers could
be appointed to receive contributions. All subscriptions sent to "The
Pilot" will be acknowledged. There is not an Irish man or woman in
America who could not give something, no matter how small, to such an
object; and we trust that no time will be lost in setting the movement
in practical operation.--_Pilot_, September 2, 1876.
ESCAPE OF THE IRISH PRISONERS
... Business was almost entirely suspended, and the imposing Masonic
ceremony of laying the foundation stone of the new Freemasons' Hall,
which was to take place at four o'clock, was almost forgotten,
and attracted but little if any attention. In the course of the
afternoon, His Excellency, accompanied by the Colonial Secretary,
drove down, and after consultation with the Superintendent of Water
Police, the Comptroller-General, and other officials, and the agent
for the Georgette, it was decided to dispatch the Georgette again
to the Catalpa, with a view to intercept the boat, or to demand the
surrender of the prisoners from the captain, if they were on board. The
pensioners and police were again embarked, a twelve-pounder field-piece
was shipped and fixed in the gangway; provisions were put on board,
and a fatigue-party of pensioners were engaged in coaling--thirty tons
being put on board in a short time. By eleven o'clock arrangements
were completed, and the Georgette steamed away from the jetty. Not a
few, both on board and on shore, but gave way to gloomy forebodings
as to the result of this second visit to the ship. Certainly, the
arrangements made by the authorities warranted those who were not
acquainted with international law, or aware of his excellency's
instructions, in concluding that the governor had determined upon
resorting to force, if necessary, to capture the fugitives. By early
morning the Georgette was outside of Rottnest, and at daylight sighted
the ship bearing S.S.E. under full sail. The Georgette hereupon
hoisted her pennant and the ensign, and all hands were put under
arms. As the Georgette did not gain upon the ship, and the wind was
freshening, a gun was fired under the vessel's stern,--and she then run
up the American flag. She took no further notice of the signal, and the
Georgette, under full steam and all sail, gave chase. As the ship did
not attempt to shorten sail or take any notice of the signal, when the
Georgette had steamed to within a quarter of a mile of her a gun was
fired across her bow, and the captain of the ship then got into the
quarter-boat....
WHAT THE AUSTRALIAN PRESS SAYS
The comments of the Western Australian papers will be interesting
to the readers of "The Pilot." "The Perth Inquirer" of the 26th of
April says: "It seems humiliating that a Yankee with a half dozen
colored men should be able to come into our waters and carry off
six of the most determined of the Fenian convicts,--all of them
military prisoners,--and then to laugh at us for allowing them to
be taken away without an effort to secure them. But international
law must be observed, and, doubtless, the Home Government will seek
and obtain redress for this outrage. It is evident that Collins came
to this colony with ample means as the agent of the American Fenian
Brotherhood, and that Jones, Johnson, and Taylor were co-workers in
furthering the escape of the prisoners. Immediately the Catalpa arrived
in Bunbury, Collins proceeded there, and doubtless interviewed Captain
Anthony, who shortly afterwards came to Freemantle under the plea of
securing fresh charts, but in reality to reconnoitre the coast. The
Catalpa appears to have cleared out of Bunbury on the 28th of March,
when a ticket-of-leave man named Smith was found stowed away and taken
by the police. She must have returned to Bunbury, and again cleared out
finally on the 15th instant. It would appear that there was a desire to
obtain correct legal information on international law, for about the
time of Captain Anthony's visit to Freemantle, Johnson called upon Mr.
Howell, the solicitor in Perth, and asked several questions as to the
limit of neutral waters, from which we infer that the captain knew what
he was about when he told Mr. Stone that his flag protected him where
he then was."
TOO BAD TO BE LAUGHED AT BY THE YANKEES
The "Freemantle Herald," of April 22, said:--
"The early return of the steamer gave rise to every kind of conjecture,
and as her approach was watched from the shore, wagers were freely made
as to the cause of her early return. Many declared that the Catalpa,
warned of the steps the governor was taking by the previous visit of
the Georgette, had attacked her and beaten her off. Others laid bets
that, overawed by the determination of force on board the Georgette,
the captain of the Catalpa had quietly surrendered the runaways. As is
usual in such cases, the sequel showed that neither was right. When the
true condition of affairs became known, there were some manifestations
of indignation at the colony having been fooled by a Yankee skipper.
The pensioners and police felt that they had been taking part in a very
silly farce, and had been laughed at by the Yankees at sea and the
public on shore, and sincerely hoped that instructions would be given
to go out again and take the prisoners by force. The governor, however,
who throughout had acted with most commendable energy and prudence, was
not to be led into committing a breach of international law to gratify
a feeling of resentment at the cool effrontery of the Yankee, directed
that the armed parties on board the Georgette should be dismissed, and
the vessel returned to the agent, with his excellency's thanks for
the readiness with which the vessel had been placed at his disposal,
and for the hearty manner in which both the agent, Mr. McCleery, the
captain, Mr. M. O'Grady, and all concerned, had coöperated with him in
the matter; at the same time expressing his approbation of the conduct
of Mr. Stone. These instructions were carried out, and in a short time
the crowds dispersed, and the town elapsed into its normal condition
of quietude, having suffered three days of the most intense excitement
ever experienced in its history."--_Pilot_, August 12, 1876.
HOW THE IRISH PRISONERS ESCAPED
The following letter has been received by Mrs. O'Reilly, John Street,
Kilkenny, from her son, Rev. John O'Reilly, who is at present in
Freemantle, Western Australia. Father O'Reilly, following in the
footsteps of many ardent young missionaries, left home and friends to
pursue his sacred calling in the region of the Southern Cross. We can
easily understand what his feelings were when the mail steamer returned
to her moorings after her fruitless pursuit of the whaler bearing away
the escaped prisoners:--
Freemantle, W.A., April 18, 1876.
My dear Mother,--You owe to the accidental detention of the mail
steamer the letter which I am now writing. The cause of the delay
is an event which will probably excite so much attention in the Old
Country and America, that it will form the principal if not the sole
topic of my note.
You are aware before now that Western Australia is a convict colony.
Hither were sent some seven or eight years ago a number of the
prisoners sentenced to penal servitude on the occasion of the Fenian
disturbances a little before that date. These were gradually released,
and at the beginning of the present month only eight remained in
confinement in Western Australia. All eight had been soldiers. The
prisoners of the establishment work in various gangs throughout the
town, and the Fenians were distributed at different points with the
rest. Amongst the prisoners some are chosen to fill offices of trust
in connection with the prison arrangements, and are called constables.
One of the Fenians was a constable, and by delivering pretended orders
to the warders in charge of the working parties, he was enabled to get
six of the Fenians together when occasion required.
The occasion came yesterday. At nine o'clock he withdrew these whom he
required from under the warders in charge. The six prisoners assembled
at a spot just outside Freemantle. Two carriages, with two horses
each, were in readiness. They got in, and away they go.
I must retrace my steps a little. Towards the end of last year
a gentleman represented as from one of the neighboring colonies
arrived here. He put up at the best hotel at the port, and has since
mixed with the best society. He went by the name of Mr. Collins.
His business here was always an enigma to the residents, but it was
supposed by some that he had come here with a view of seeing his
way to the opening of some business. Another person lately arrived
here too, named Jones, a Yankee; but as he worked at a trade no one
noticed him. Now it appears these two persons were the chief actors
in the plot. They arranged the details of the flight, and awaited the
fugitives with carriages at the place of rendezvous yesterday.
The party drove to a spot sixteen miles or so from Freemantle, where
they were seen to enter a boat evidently belonging to a whaler in the
offing.
Yesterday, port and metropolis were in a state of intense excitement.
The government chartered an only steamer, a peaceful mail boat, put on
board a guard of pensioners and police,--we have no soldiers in the
colony,--and sent it in pursuit. A little before the steamer an open
boat manned with water police had started on the trail of the runaways.
To-day, at four, the steamer returned. A crowd had assembled on
the jetty to see her come in; I was amongst the number; she did not
bring the prisoners; she reported having been alongside the whaler.
The captain and one boat's crew were absent. The authorities in the
steamer requested to go on board, but were refused permission. As the
vessel lay in neutral waters, they could not use force to attain their
desires.
The water police boat is still in chase of the missing ship's boat,
but I doubt if they will come up with her. Under cover of the darkness
of the night--and it threatens to be dark indeed--the absent crew,
with the fugitives, will make the ship; and even if the police crew
found them, and there was a fight, as there would be pretty sure to
be, if a forced capture were attempted, it is very doubtful who would
be the victors. Against the fifteen water police, there would be the
six prisoners, their two accomplices, and the boat's crew.
The whistle is sounding its warning, and my letter must hurry to the
post. With kindest love to all, believe me,
Your affectionate son, J. O'Reilly.
--_Pilot_, June 24, 1876.
THE ESCAPE OF THE POLITICAL PRISONERS
"There was a torchlight procession in Dublin on Saturday night, June
10, in celebration of the escape of the political convicts from West
Australia, and Disraeli was burned in effigy." So runs the latest
telegram from Ireland, and the news is fully significant. Ireland
knows the meaning of the escape, and will act on it. It was planned
and carried out by her sons in America; and this fact will intensify
the national spirit of the Old Country, and make her feel that she is
beginning to reap the harvest of her motherhood.
The first news of the escape of the Irish prisoners appeared last week
in the following dispatch:--
"London, June 6. A dispatch from Melbourne, Australia, states that all
the political prisoners confined in Western Australia have escaped on
the American whaleship Catalpa."
About the same time the SS. Colima from Sydney, Australia, reached San
Francisco with news to the same effect, but adding that the ocean cable
from Australia to Java had been cut on April 27, immediately before the
escape.
Two weeks ago the English Prime Minister scornfully refused to release
those prisoners at the earnest request of Ireland. It was in his hands
then to render this escape meaningless, and to make Irishmen believe
that they had better wait for the slow course of English justice. But
the old spirit of domineering insolence was too strong in the British
House of Commons. To show mercy to Ireland would be a confession of
weakness; they determined to refuse the Irish petition, and at their
own haughty will select the time to release the prisoners.
But Ireland has had satisfaction this time. At the moment that Disraeli
was jauntily telling the House that he would not release the prisoners,
they were on board a Yankee ship, free as air, thousands of miles from
an English chain or an English dungeon. Ireland laughs at England at
home; and all America joins in our jeer across the Atlantic.
It is the beginning of a new order of things in Irish national
movements. Heretofore England could buy informers and perpetuate the
distrust of each other which has been the curse of Irishmen. The
reins of agitation have been too often given into inferior hands, and
inferior intelligence has too long dominated Irish councils.
The escape of the prisoners from Western Australia is the best proof
that Irishmen can manage the most dangerous and difficult enterprises,
and keep their own counsel in a way unknown almost to any other nation.
The plan of this escape was completed nearly two years ago. Every
portion of the gigantic scheme was worked out in the United States. The
machinery was set in motion here, eighteen months ago, which recently
struck such an alarming note in the penal colony. When the freed men
are landed safe in America or some other country, the plan of the
escape may be published. Until then we shall only say that nothing was
left to chance, that no expense was spared, and that brave men were
ready to risk liberty and life itself to make the attempt a success.
To one devoted man, more than to any other, the whole affair is
creditable. He it was who, with the pitiful letters received from the
prisoners in his hand, excited the sympathy of Irish conventions and
individual men. He neglected his business in New York to attend to the
prisoners. He told those who helped the object that they would have to
trust him, that the secret must not be generally known. They did trust
him, for they had reason to know his purity as a patriot. The event
proves the truth and devotedness of the man. We have asked him for
permission to publish his name; but he will not allow us till the men
are absolutely safe. To another man, an American friend, the gratitude
of the Irish people is also due.
These outlines are not imaginative, but real. We have been acquainted
with the plan since its inception; and of late have been anxiously
watching for the good news.
[Illustration: A CARTOON FROM THE IRISH WORLD, SEPTEMBER 2, 1876]
There was never an enterprise so large and so terribly dangerous
carried out more admirably. It will be remembered of Irish patriots
that they never forget their suffering brothers. The prisoners who
have escaped are humble men, most of them private soldiers. But the
PRINCIPLE was at stake--and for this they have been released. England
will now begin to realize that she has made a mistake that will follow
her to her death-bed, in making Ireland so implacable and daring an
enemy. This is only an earnest of what will come when the clouds of war
are over her. The men who sent the Catalpa to Australia are just the
men to send out a hundred Catalpas to wipe British commerce from the
face of the sea.--_Pilot_, June 17, 1876.
LESSONS FROM THE PRISONERS' ESCAPE
The well-planned and boldly executed rescue of the Irish political
prisoners from the penal colony of Western Australia contains lessons
worth noting by those who desire to perpetuate Irish nationality. A
nation that cultivates the evil weed of Distrust will never become
strong or great. Cohesion is the principle of power, and the people
that cannot stand by each other for a common cause, under common
leaders, are no stronger than a ball of sand, to be scattered at a
touch.
Heretofore the curse of Ireland has been the impossibility of union.
Party hated party; class distrusted class. Rich men were called
traitors because they, having something to lose, refused to enter on
every wild plan of revolution without considering the probabilities.
Poor men were too easily led by demagogues. The man who spake loudest,
who boasted most, became the idol of the hour. When the opportunity
offered, he sold the people he had so easily deceived, and scorned
them for their credulity. There are plenty of "successful men" of this
class--such as Judge Keogh, who a few years ago called God to witness
that he would never desert the People's Cause, but who, when made a
judge, was the first to lay a ruthless hand and an insulting tongue on
the religion and nationality of his country.
With such an experience Irishmen have grown distrustful to such a
degree that the danger from their doubt is greater than from their
deception. Better a thousand times to be deceived than to lose faith in
your brother's honesty and patriotism.
The CURE of this national disease is coming--for the CAUSE of it
is plain. Distrust has grown from disappointment; and this has been
the result of a bad selection of men. Ireland has hitherto trusted
the TALKERS rather than the DOERS. She has given her vote to the
noisy demagogues who tickled her ear, and has turned from the men who
appealed to her common-sense. For twenty-five years past--with the
exception of the abortive Fenian movement--the Irish people have acted
as if green flags, denunciation of England, and poetic sun-burstry were
enough to establish Ireland's claim to national independence.
We trust and believe that a change for the better is coming. Ireland
is beginning to see that the men who are able to do something for
themselves, the men of judgment and prevision in their own affairs,
are likely to bring the best intelligence into national deliberations.
Hereafter it will not be a recommendation for an Irish politician that
he has failed to make a decent living at everything else.
The rescue of the political prisoners proves that the Irishmen who talk
least can do most. It proves also that distrust is not chronic in the
Irish people--that they can stake great issues on the faith of single
men--when they have selected them for their capacity and intelligence
instead of their braggadocio.
Another and most valuable lesson from the rescue has a bearing on the
English army. The thousands of Irishmen in the ranks knew that those
men were kept in prison BECAUSE THEY HAD BEEN SOLDIERS. It seemed, too,
for two or three years past, that those men had been forgotten. The
leaders of the movement were free; and no one seemed to care for the
poor fellows whose very names were unknown. The soldiers in the army
knew that of all the Irish prisoners of '66 and '67, there were none
who risked more or who would have been more valuable than a trained
dragoon, the indispensable artilleryman, and the steady linesman. To
see their comrades forgotten and left to rot in their dungeons was
enough to make the Irishmen of the army abjure their nationality and
accept the English dominion in Ireland.
This has been averted by the rescue. The soldiers in the English army
will read the news with a deeper thrill than any other Irishmen. It has
a larger meaning to them than to others. "Now," they will say, "now, at
last, we are a part of the Irish people. Our red coats do not separate
us from our countrymen; and if we suffer for their cause they will be
true as steel to us in the day of trial."
It is full time that Irish nationality should take intelligent
position. All shades of Irish politics can agree in mutual respect;
they are all shades of green. One party may desire more than another,
and believe it possible of attainment. But they should not hate the
others that think differently. The Home Rulers are as honest as the
Fenians, and as intelligent. One should say to the other: "We travel
the same road; but when you stop, we go farther. If we succeed, you can
join us; if we fail, we shall return to you for support." This is true
nationality; and when this spirit grows among the Irish people, there
cannot be a doubt of the result.--_Pilot_, June 24, 1876.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS
GRAND RECEPTION IN BOSTON
On the 1st inst., a grand entertainment was given in Music Hall for
the benefit of the released prisoners, who were present. The immense
hall was crowded; nearly every seat on floor and galleries was filled.
The stage was fitted up with a handsome proscenium, the Sheil Literary
Institute playing the patriotic drama of Robert Emmet. The greatest
credit is due to the management committee. Polite ushers were in
attendance, and not the least hitch occurred in the whole evening's
entertainment. The address was delivered by John E. Fitzgerald, Esq.,
who was greeted with thundering applause. He pictured in graphic
words the condition of Ireland for centuries; while Poland and other
struggling nationalities had been wiped from the map, the intense
individualism of the Irish as a nation had preserved them. The movement
for which these gallant fellows had suffered was the embodiment of the
national idea. (Applause.)
The more pacific and undefinable agitation known as the Home Rule
movement was by no means final--as England well knew. It was a step
toward something fuller,--toward the only consummation that will ever
satisfy Irishmen,--complete separation. (Great applause.) The sentiment
of Henry Grattan was still vivid,--that no one but the Irish people
had a right to legislate for Ireland. Mr. Fitzgerald dwelt eloquently
on the devotion of the Nationalists to their imprisoned brethren. He
spoke in the highest praise of the efforts of those by whom this last
brilliant exploit was accomplished with so much wisdom and secrecy.
He said that the sum of $30,000 had been contributed in this country
in its aid, and though the object of the contribution was so widely
known, the secrecy was maintained until its accomplishment. He hoped
that a generous and substantial testimonial would be presented to
Captain Anthony, the brave man who had risked and accomplished so much
in their behalf. Mr. A. O'Dowd recited Meagher's "Sword Speech" in
impressive style. A song, "Cead Mille Failthe," by Mr. E. Fitzwilliam,
was sung by the composer, and pleased the audience so well that an
encore was given, in response to which Mr. Fitzwilliam sang another
of his compositions, entitled, "The Irishman's Version of One Hundred
Years Ago," which was also generously applauded. Miss Annie Irish,
a well-known vocalist, sang two songs in acceptable style; and Mr.
Sheehan, who was warmly received, received an encore, to which he
responded in his usual excellent manner.
The drama by the Sheil Literary Institute was, as usual with that body,
well played, and gave great pleasure to the immense and patriotic
audience. Before its performance there were loud requests for "Captain
Anthony" to come forward, but that brave fellow, who sat in the
audience with Captain Hathaway, of New Bedford, was too modest to make
his appearance.
At the close of the drama the demand for the appearance of the rescued
prisoners was imperious, and had to be gratified, though it was
intended by the committee that the men should not be paraded. But
the call was so strong and kindly that the bronzed men appeared on
the stage, and were introduced by Mr. Fitzgerald. The greeting they
received will never be forgotten. It was plain how deep a chord their
suffering and escape has struck in the Irish heart. They numbered six,
though Mr. Wilson, one of the rescued men, was not present; his place
was filled by Mr. William Foley, the ex-prisoner who arrived in this
country about two months ago.
The entertainment was a complete success; and, besides its value
as a patriotic safety-valve, it will add a considerable sum to the
testimonial to be presented to the ex-prisoners, to enable them to
begin life in this new country under fair circumstances.--_Pilot_,
September 9, 1876.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS
RECEPTION TO JOHN J. BRESLIN
A large audience assembled in Boston Theatre on the evening of Sunday,
the 24th inst., to tender a public reception to Mr. John J. Breslin,
the chief agent in the rescue of the Fenian prisoners from Australia.
The reception was under the management of the United Irish Brotherhood,
and the committee of arrangements deserves the greatest credit.
Charles F. Donnelly, Esq., presided on the occasion, and among others
on the platform were Captain Anthony, City Marshal Hathaway, of New
Bedford, Alderman O'Brien, Thomas Riley, Esq., and a large number of
prominent and respectable citizens.
Mr. Donnelly, in an eloquent address, reminded his audience that the
turmoil of a political campaign did not prevent them from assembling
to do honor to brave men. Could they say that the spirit of the
knights and saints of old was dead? Did it not survive in the act
of the brave men there present? A year ago, and the escape of the
political prisoners would have been deemed an impossibility; it had
been undertaken and executed by Mr. Breslin, who set out to rescue
from bondage, ten thousand miles away, men whom he had never seen, men
whose only crime was loving their country, perhaps not wisely, but too
well,--if an Irishman could love his country too well. But the age
of chivalry had been revived even in this hard, practical age by a
generous Yankee captain. (Loud applause.) Many morals might be drawn
from this event, but he would select one,--it was this: that when an
Irishman and a Yankee combine to carry out an undertaking, they can do
it in spite of the whole power of the British Empire.
Mr. Donnelly then stated that he had received a letter from Wendell
Phillips regretting his inability to attend, and expressing sympathy
with the objects of the meeting. A telegram of similar import was read
from General Butler, which concluded thus: "A prominent Massachusetts
politician says that Fenianism should be crowded out of politics.
Fenianism is the love of one's native land. I hope it may never be
crushed out of the heart of any citizen of this country."
Alderman O'Brien, the next speaker, said that when coming there he
had no intention of making a speech. He came there in common with his
fellow-citizens to extend to these brave men a cordial welcome, and to
show them that he felt as he spoke, he would shake hands with them
all. He was followed by Thomas Riley, Esq., who began by likening the
cause of Ireland to that patriotic society whose birth antedated that
of George III., and which still lived on. The spirit of Irish liberty
was not dead, as was proved by their presence there that night to do
honor to a man and an act. The achievement of Mr. Breslin was worthy of
the annals of an earlier era. Ireland's history was one of oppression.
An Englishman had once charged that the Irish were "an unpolished
nation;" to which a native of Ireland replied, "It ought not to be
so, for we have received hard rubs enough to be polished long ago."
It was acts like Mr. Breslin's that kept alive the spirit of liberty.
Plantagenet and Tudor, and Stuart and Cromwell, all had dealt Ireland
crushing blows, all had waded through seas of Irish gore; yet all
their dynasties had perished off the face of the earth, and the spirit
of Irish liberty still survived. The worst of the Roman Emperors was
Julian, yet he sent no Christian to the cross or the wild beasts, he
merely banned and barred Christian education, for he well knew that
without education a nation relapsed into the depths of barbarism.
England had done the same; in her savage, barbarous penal code she had
proscribed education and educators, but Ireland still clung to the
light of liberty. She listened to the sound of the battle of freedom
in the West, and her sons caught the flame, and Flood, and Grattan,
and the Volunteers raised her to nationhood, and crowned her with the
star of freedom. She had lost that eminence, but the spirit burned
again in the immortal O'Connell; it still survived the golden-mouthed
Father Burke. The speaker paid a touching tribute to the memory of
John Mitchel, and denounced England as championing the iniquity of the
age, of upholding dead and rotten Turkey and her butcheries, and that
the hour of retribution had arrived, if Russia would only advance.
If England lost her temper in the threatened European complication,
Ireland would be her "beetle of mortality." During his eloquent
address Mr. Riley was frequently applauded.
Captain Hathaway, who succeeded him, said he was not an Irishman, but
that was not his fault. He detailed the facts already published as to
the inception of the plan of escape, how Mr. Devoy had approached him
with a letter from his (Mr. H.'s) friend, Mr. John Boyle O'Reilly, and
the consequent chartering of the Catalpa.
Captain Anthony, who divided attention with Mr. Breslin as the lion
of the night, succeeded, and was greeted with a storm of applause, to
which that man of deeds, not words, responded by two modest bows.
Mr. John J. Breslin, who was enthusiastically received, then addressed
the audience. He said that parliamentary action, prayers, and petitions
had all failed to move the bowels of compassion of the British
government in behalf of the prisoners, for the reason said government
had no bowels. Mr. John Devoy, well and honorably known in '65, in 1873
began to actively agitate the plan of escape, and had, in the fall of
1874, raised funds sufficient to warrant him to make the attempt. The
funds were raised in various ways; one of John Mitchel's last lectures
was given for the purpose. Mr. Devoy placed himself in communication
with a gentleman whose high literary abilities and rare poetic talents
had raised him to a prominent position among the journalists of the
day; by whom he (Mr. Devoy) was introduced to Captain Hathaway, of
New Bedford, through whom the Catalpa was obtained. Mr. Breslin
gave a clear, concise, and detailed account of his proceeding from
first to last in carrying out the details of the escape. Most of
this has already appeared in our columns. His description of the
face of the country, cities, geology, and flora of Western Australia
was particularly good, and show both scholarship and observation on
his part. Alluding to the sandy nature of the soil, he related the
following anecdote: An inhabitant meeting a "new chum," told him it was
a fine country. "It is," said the latter, "so mighty fine that most of
it would pass through a sieve."
At the close of Mr. Breslin's address, the chairman announced the
meeting adjourned. Before and after the proceedings, Mr. Breslin, who
is of commanding presence and courteous demeanor, was surrounded by
groups of enthusiastic countrymen, each eager to express admiration and
sympathy.--_Pilot_, September 30, 1876.
WHY DON'T ENGLAND DEMAND THE PRISONERS?
Mr. Gladstone is an able man, watchful and jealous of the honor of
England. He has written a pamphlet of great power on the Turkish
atrocities in Bulgaria, in which he says that Turkey should be excluded
from Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Bulgaria, as a power unfit to rule
civilized and Christian people. He says that the English government
should lead in accomplishing this result,--"to redeem by these measures
the honor of the British name, which in the deplorable events of the
year has been more generally compromised than I have known it in any
former period." That is true; the past two or three years have torn
away more of England's prestige than all her previous history. She
has fallen into decay so fast that she has not made a single effort
to reassert herself as a Great Power. When Russia broke the Black Sea
Treaty, England growled, but backed down. She sees the Czar laying
railways to Northern Asia, and she hears the tramp of his legions
already on the border of Hindostan; but she fears to stir a finger.
When her Prime Minister, Disraeli, last year made an assertion that
irritated Prussia, and that iron empire frowned, the fearful minister
hastened to eat his words before the face of Bismarck. When the
Fenian prisoners--men whom she persisted in calling "criminals"--were
taken from her in defiance of all her laws, she dare not demand
them from the United States. Why? Because the root of her greatness
is split--the germ of her strength is rotten. Beside her heart she
has the disease that will sooner or later strike her down. She has
maltreated, misgoverned, scorned, derided the island and the people of
Ireland, until oppression has generated in their hearts the terrible
political mania of national hatred. God forbid that we should exult
in such a feeling; but no one who knows Ireland and Irishmen can
deny its existence. England, to save herself, to possess the land,
has driven the Irish people over the world; but wherever they went
they carried with them the bitter memory of their wrongs and hates.
She has strengthened the world against herself. She is powerless and
contemptible; if she were to-day to demand the return of the Fenian
prisoners, the people of all nations would shout in derision, and the
United States would answer with a particular sneer. It is well for Mr.
Gladstone to say that her honor is waning. But he has only seen the
beginning of the end. The haughty and truculent country must eat the
leek till its heart is sick.--_Pilot_, September 16, 1876.
JAMES REYNOLDS, THE TREASURER
James Reynolds, of New Haven, Conn., familiarly known as "Catalpa Jim,"
was born in County Cavan, Ireland, on October 20, 1831. His ancestry
dates back over fourteen hundred years to the noble sept MacRaghnaill,
which the Irish historians tell us was a branch of the tribe called
Conmaie, whose founder was Conmacrie, third son of Fergus MacRoigh, by
Meive, the celebrated queen of Connaught, in the first century of the
Christian era.
He was but sixteen years of age when, during the memorable famine
that peopled the cemeteries of Ireland, he bade adieu to his native
heath and sailed away to the distant shores of America, bearing with
him a freight of precious memories that were to bear fruit in after
years of patriotic endeavor. On his arrival in this country he at
once apprenticed himself to learn the brass-founding trade, and in
1850 he settled in Connecticut, where he has since made his home. For
twenty-eight years he has been a resident of New Haven, where he has
received repeated political honors at the hands of his fellow citizens.
For several years he has been at the head of the town government as
town agent; the only Irishman who has ever been elevated to this
position in a city where Puritanic influences and prejudices have
not yet wholly passed away. In addition to his municipal duties, Mr.
Reynolds has for years conducted a lucrative and somewhat extensive
business as a brass-founder.
He early espoused the cause of his country and brought to its service
all the energies of an active and impulsive nature. When, in the years
following the rebellion, Irish patriotism was directed in a movement
against England through her colonies in America, we find him foremost
among those whose financial resources flowed freely into the common
treasury. Not when his practical mind told him that not here lay the
channel to Irish freedom did he close his purse-strings; not even when
a prudent judgment convinced him that here lay a waste of Irish blood
and human treasures did he say nay to the appeal for funds. It was
enough for him to know that even one blow was struck at England, one
thrust was made in the great cause of Irish freedom. James Reynolds
never believed that the liberation of Ireland was to be effected
through the conquest of Canada. His strong native sense and sagacious
foresight taught him the folly of such a hope, yet, when the movement
was inaugurated, he entered into it heart and soul, with all the
enthusiasm of his noble nature, hopeful that even one blow might be
struck at the shackles that bound his country.
But it was in the Catalpa movement that his great patriotism found
its highest opportunity, and the name of James Reynolds gained the
imperishable splendor of immortal fame. The history of that memorable
expedition is still fresh in the memory of Irishmen; how the little
bark with its gallant crew sailed into Australian waters and bore away
its precious freight, bringing to freedom and glory those patriots
who were expiating in exile their efforts for Ireland; bidding bold
defiance to the British man-of-war who gave her chase, and riding
safely into the harbor of New York,--all these details are still green
in the Irish memory. And while the fame of this daring rescue shall
last; while the name of Catalpa shall wake and fan the fires of Irish
enthusiasm, so long will the name of James Reynolds be held in fond and
loving remembrance. For it was he who mortgaged his home, who placed a
chattel upon his household goods, who beggared himself for the time,
that the sinews might be forthcoming to inaugurate and sustain the
expedition. Other choice spirits lent him their counsels and their
fortunes, but James Reynolds gave his all that the Catalpa rescue might
be consummated. True, the success of the expedition recompensed him in
a measure for his financial sacrifices; it brought back some of the
little fortune he freely gave in the cause, but his chief reward, the
glory of his great heart and the pride of his noble life, is the memory
which he treasures, which his children and his children's children will
carry in their hearts, that his sacrifices were not in vain,--that they
brought humiliation to England, liberty and happiness to the rescued
patriots, and eternal fame and glory to Ireland.
When the Land League movement was inaugurated, he at once actively
interested himself, and was one of the leading delegates at its first
national convention. He has been a member of the succeeding ones, and
has acted a number of times on the committee on resolutions. He was
for several years a member of the executive council, the committee
of seven, and was state delegate of the League for Connecticut. He
enthused much of his own enthusiasm into the movement, and during his
administration the League in the Nutmeg State was to the front in point
of numbers and the character and influence of its work.
James Reynolds is a pure, unselfish patriot; around his name breathes a
lustre undimmed by a single thought of personal ambition, the faintest
breath of self-interest or individual aggrandizement. Other men have
given greater intellectual gifts to the service of Ireland; others
have told her wrongs with a sublimer magic of eloquence, and waked
the sympathies of men in the sweep of their mighty oratory; and still
others, perhaps, have braved a larger measure of personal danger; but
none has devoted his whole energies, his entire worldly fortune, with
a loftier patriotism, a more generous spirit of sacrifice, than James
Reynolds has for the little isle that gave him birth.
Personally he is a man of genial temperament, frank, guileless, and
companionable, unaffected in manner and speech, open-handed and
generous; a man whose friendships are firm and lasting; a citizen
whose activities are always beneficial.--_The Irish-American Weekly_,
Lincoln, Neb., March 20, 1892.
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