THE DETECTIVE IN SORE TRIBULATION.
McKenna’s fears were not without foundation, as was shown from the
action taken by members of his division the very day succeeding the one
on which McAndrew, the Bodymaster, shook the dust of Shenandoah from his
shoes and sought work near Wilkesbarre. On the morning of the eighteenth
of May, the troubled Secretary was met at the street corner by Doyle and
Garvey, who said they were on the way to his boarding-house, as Gibbons
desired to see him immediately, down in the bush. The three men set out
for the place of meeting, and meantime the mind of the detective was
sorely agitated. What were these men about to do with him? Had they
penetrated his disguise, now many months worn, and, as he thought, quite
thick enough to defy the sharpest scrutiny? Were they taking him out to
meet the fate he well knew must follow quick upon discovery of his real
mission in the mines? But, despite dark reflections, keeping up a firm
outward appearance and passing merry jokes, upon the usual subjects,
without as much as a quaver in the tone of his voice, or a perceptible
tremor in his nerves, he walked along; whether to his own death, or a
conference to end in the murder of another, he could only guess.
In the bush, not far from Muff Lawler’s house, a little later, were
congregated Gibbons, Doyle, Garvey, Fenton Cooney, and James McKenna.
Gibbons was the spokesman, and gruffly informed the Secretary that, now
McAndrew was gone, Gomer James must be made away with.
“I propose,” said he, “that two men be obtained from Mahanoy Plane, and
two from Mahanoy City, to go with me an’ Doyle, here, an’ we’ll soon end
the cursed Welshman!”
“How is it to be done?” asked McKenna, and he did earnestly wish
McAndrew was safe home again.
“I’ll jist tell ye!” roughly responded Gibbons, while he smoked his pipe
composedly, knocking off the burnt tobacco with the tip of his little
finger, showing as much coolness as if sitting in his own chimney
corner, talking to a friend about the weather. There was a cold,
malevolent glitter in his restless eye which told those who knew him
that he was wholly in earnest. “I’ll tell ye! All Doyle an’ I wants is
fur the four men to kape a good watch, part on one side, an’ part on the
other side of the road that Gomer James passes over, an’ we two’ll
attend to the rest! Gomer is now watchman at the Little Drift, an’ we
can catch him aisy like, early in the mornin’, when he’s goin’ home from
work. The patch is not so very far from here, but far enough, an’ before
anybody’ll be up an’ around, we can be back home, an’ the Mahanoy men
well on their road for the Plane!”
“Av coorse,” said McKenna, appreciating that, to show cowardice or
hesitation, under the circumstances, would prove sure if not immediate
death, “if the majority’s raally in favor of the thing, we’ll certainly
have it done! I consent to whativer the division may ask!”
The men present were united in the demand, and so expressed themselves.
All wanted Gomer James killed. The detective, much against his will, was
forced to appear as bloodthirsty as his companions. He must not only
agree to, but assume a part in, the dreadful act. Thoughts flashed
through his quickened brain with lightning-like rapidity. Ideas were
plenty—in fact, too plentiful—but which way he should turn, and how
escape this terrible business, at first he did not clearly see. Finally
a suggestion came, like a reflected gleam of sunlight to the prisoner in
his rayless cell, and he said:
“You are just right, Gibbons! That’s exactly the way to manage; an’ I’ll
go, this very day, to Mahanoy Plane, see Callaghan, an’ get two of the
men. I’ll take Garvey wid me, an’ Cooney is appointed to go wid you, to
Mahanoy City, to mate the Bodymasther and get the others. Then we’ll
return here, the morrow, an’ have everything ready for business the next
day mornin’!”
“All right,” answered Gibbons.
Cooney consented to his part in the programme, and the little meeting
broke up, its members scattering in various paths, and entering
Shenandoah from different directions, to avoid any remarks of the
people.
This horrid mission the operative was loth to perform. It came of
McAndrew stubbornly refusing to stop in Shenandoah without work, and
leaving the burden of the division to devolve upon him. He well knew
there would be no chance that day to communicate with Mr. Franklin, who
alone could notify Gomer James of this new danger, as Garvey was sure to
remain close by him, and what he was to do he was quite unable to
determine. The assassination must be prevented, at the risk of his own
life, if need be; but how he was to reach the much-desired result
remained among the problems that he could not explain. Trusting to
chance, and an Irishman’s ready wit, he took the cars in Garvey’s
company, and went to Mahanoy Plane, as both told inquirers, “to look for
employment.”
At Mahanoy Plane, in the afternoon, the two Mollies presented themselves
before Callaghan, and in Garvey’s hearing, the operative made demand of
that Bodymaster’s division for two men who were “capable of doin’ a
clane job.” Callaghan said he was quite willing, but the members of his
body were nearly all young and inexperienced, and he doubted if he could
find two who would serve the purpose. Still, he promised to make the
effort.
The detective and his friend then left, saying they would call at an
early hour in the afternoon, prepared to return to Shenandoah with the
persons appointed. Before leaving Callaghan, the Secretary treated
twice, and he and Garvey sallied out to find what was to be seen at the
Plane. They first visited Joe Murphy’s house, where they had more
liquor, and, after taking the rounds of all the saloons, both begun to
feel they had swallowed something more powerful than water—McKenna,
especially, finding himself so badly under the influence that he
exhibited it in his walk and conversation, the former fast becoming
vibratory, and the latter boisterous. When they reappeared at
Callaghan’s, it was nearly dark, and the Bodymaster informed them he had
not found the needed men. He said he did not despair, however, and,
after treating once or twice, went out to continue the search. In his
absence McKenna was entirely overcome, fell sprawling over on a long
bench, and soon relapsed into a drunken stupor, from which neither
Garvey nor Callaghan, with use of every known appliance, could succeed
in awakening him. It was fully nine o’clock at night, and Garvey had
taken the train for Shenandoah, before the drunken Secretary was made
sufficiently sensible to understand that he must get up. So sottish was
his condition that Callaghan found himself forced to secure a bed for
him for the night, and assist in putting him under its cover.
The detective had, at least, postponed his own participation in the
James matter, and was almost certain Gibbons would delay any attempt to
kill the Welshman until he returned. Still there was a remote chance of
his pursuing an opposite course. But McKenna was perfectly helpless. No
dispatch could be sent to Philadelphia from that small place without
creating suspicion. The best he could do was to sit up in bed, write a
few lines in pencil, setting forth the danger James was in, seal it,
stamp it, having recourse to the improvised stamp depository in his
boot-leg, and after midnight, when all in the house were supposed to be
asleep, steal softly down-stairs, in his stockings, with _brogues_ in
hand, and go to the post-office. All of this he succeeded in doing, and
in safely mailing his letter, and got back to his couch without
discovery. There was the risk that Gibbons had obtained his men from
Mahanoy City, and might be even then waiting for Gomer James, ready to
take his life. He found enough in this thought to banish refreshing
sleep. But McKenna remained in his room until people were stirring for
another day, and then rising, walked about in the cool air until
Callaghan made his appearance in the bar-room.
“Did ye get the men?” inquired McKenna, after greeting the tavern
keeper.
“Divil a man!” answered Callaghan.
“An’ do ye mane to?”
“Sure, an’ I do!”
“An’ phatever was’t that ye gave me for whisky, last night? I’m half in
the belafe that, to get out of sendin’ the men to do me biddin’, ye
tried to poison me!”—adding: “I niver felt so quare in my head in all me
life!”
“Deil a bit of poison was there in it! The whisky was the very best! You
must have mixed your drinks after comin’ to the Plane!”
It was of no avail for the operative to be angry with Callaghan, as he
would make nothing by it. Therefore, leaving word with the Bodymaster to
send his men over when they were ready, McKenna proceeded to Shenandoah.
There he found a great excitement prevailing over two fires that had
occurred the previous night, one at Excelsior Colliery, already spoken
of, the other being the burning of the railway signal tower at Mahanoy
Plane. Not much was said about the Secretary’s failure to secure the two
men from Callaghan, as Garvey had returned the night before, very much
under the influence of liquor, reporting McKenna as on the road drunk,
without the Mollies sent for, and as Gibbons had been no more
successful, having failed entirely. Thus the Secretary was once more
excused for being intoxicated when intrusted with urgent business.
Hurley, Doyle, Monaghan, and Gibbons had lain in wait for Gomer James,
however, the second morning, and he had not made his appearance as
expected.
The operative was more easy in his mind, as he knew that, through Capt.
Linden, or some other person, James must surely have received warning to
keep himself continually under protection, out of harm’s way.
A few days later, Hurley related how he and the others had, on one
occasion, gone out to fix Gomer James, and he, Hurley, was armed with a
rifle. They lay out nearly all night, hoping to see and catch him, and
had Monaghan done the right thing, they would have killed the Welshman,
as he actually passed their ambush, the ex-constable failing to inform
them who he was until too late. As it chanced, Doyle had his pistol
leveled at him, but was prevented from shooting by Garvey, who said he
might be hitting an innocent man.
[Illustration: “_When ready, the lucky man was concealed from view._”]
At another time, the young Welshman arrived when Gibbons, Hurley,
Cooney, Garvey, Doyle, Monaghan, Finnell, and Thompson, all armed, were
waiting for him. Still he traversed the road in safety. Hurley would
have dropped him at a venture, only he was just loading the rifle at the
time. When ready, the lucky man was concealed from view.
“Well, what are you going to do now?” inquired the operative.
“We are sure to get him yet!” answered Hurley. “But first let us go and
see some cousins of the man, Cosgrove. If they will come down with more
money, then we can return here, and if the rest all back out, I’ll do
the job on my own private account! I suppose you’ll lend a hand?”
This to McKenna.
“Oh, yes! That’s all right!” responded the Secretary, approvingly.
So money _was_ at the bottom of it.
The life of the young Welshman hung upon an attenuated thread. Still he
remained a watchman, only having himself changed from a night to a day
hand. Gibbons and Hurley everywhere sought his life, but McKenna managed
to keep clear of it. At last Gibbons boldly said he would go to Jack
Kehoe in person, and demand for Hurley and himself a commission to kill
Gomer James. They wanted no help and could easily perform the task by
themselves.
The ensuing Sunday morning, Mike Doyle was at Cooney’s, where McKenna
boarded. He said everything had been arranged for Gomer James, and three
men were to arrive from Girardville the next day, when the Secretary
must be ready to do his share. The time set for the act was Monday
night, May 24, 1875. Again were the thoughts of the officer turned to
saving the intrepid but foolhardy young man. It was not possible that
the Mollies suspected him of having warned James, causing him to cease
traveling his former path at night, but Doyle seemed to be placed with
the Secretary and clung industriously to him through the entire day, and
he had no chance to write or telegraph a line to Mr. Franklin. Doyle,
contrary to his usual custom, refused to drink, and his apparent task
was to keep McKenna duly sober for the expected meeting with Kehoe’s
promised assassins. That was undoubtedly his object in remaining nigh
the detective. He must have been instructed by some one to do so, as it
was not characteristic of Mike Doyle to refuse good liquor, or restrain
himself from a debauch, when acting wholly from his own impulses.
The detective began heartily to curse the day that he ever allowed
himself to sit in the Secretary’s chair, and exercised his wits thinking
up some way of shirking official responsibilities, which, considering
the condition the country was in, he found to clash with his duty to the
Agency and to the public. He wished McAndrew might return, and even
thought of sending him word that Mrs. McAndrew was very ill—but learned,
upon visiting her, she was never better in her life—and that would not
succeed. It subsequently occurred to him that he intended going away to
Wilkesbarre, after more counterfeit money. But this pretence fell
through, as Hurley and Gibbons both said he could send a letter. Then he
called a meeting of the division, brought before it and read aloud the
printed constitution and by-laws of the order, which provided for the
election, each year, of a Vice-President and an Assistant Secretary,
neither of which chairs had ever been filled. The suggestion was that
Thomas Hurley be elected Vice-President until the annual day for
choosing officers came around, and Gibbons to have the position of
Assistant Secretary. Both of these men absolutely refused to serve—both
were illiterate, both had characters too well known in the community—and
a majority of the members present at the meeting unanimously supported a
resolution to the effect that Bodymaster, Secretary, and Treasurer were
officers enough for that lodge. Here McKenna’s work came to naught. He
was unable to find anything satisfactory which would take the
responsibility off his shoulders and permit him to go to Luzerne County,
as he desired, and had to let it rest, fearing that any very marked
pertinacity might call the attention of the brotherhood to his efforts
to avoid a duty assumed when he took the position he held.
The occurrence of a great fire in the wood, which spread from patch to
patch, and from mountain to mountain, carrying destruction and
consternation along its track, in the extinguishment of which everybody
about the vicinity was engaged, prevented the present execution of the
James assassination. The employment of every available man in fighting
fire made it impossible the Mollies should then seek the young man’s
life. Still, it was only a short time that this work kept them from
bloody thoughts and bloodier deeds.
James must have received a notice of what was going on, as once more he
resigned his position and left the vicinity. The men who, upon this
occasion, were selected to do for Gomer James were James Bradley, of
Loss Creek, Tom Connory, _alias_ “Derrick,” of Connor’s Patch, and
Anthony Monaghan, _alias_ “Rappa Jack,” of Rappahannock. They were duly
notified of James’ disappearance. But Gibbons was not the man to give up
a thing upon which his heart was set, as it was on the murder of the
Welshman, and the detective knew that he must keep an earnest and close
watch of both Hurley and Gibbons, or they would yet accomplish the deed.
Hence McKenna greatly affected Gibbons’ company, night and day.
In a little while Gibbons hatched a plan to get James back as watchman
at the old breaker. It was to gather half a dozen men, and fire a volley
in the air, at night, to frighten the men who had taken Gomer James’
place, when some one could report it to the boss, who would very
naturally say: “When James was night-watchman, such things did not
happen; if they did, somebody got hurt, for Gomer was no coward!”
This plan, it was thought by some, would cause Gomer James to be
reinstated.
Cooney was of the opinion that it must fail, as James had proceeded
deliberately to get drunk, when he knew that such conduct would surely
end in his discharge. It appeared to him that the Welshman wanted a
chance to leave, and had in some way discovered that the Mollies were
once more in search of him.
To quiet the matter more effectually, McKenna promised Gibbons that he
would try and make a trade with some Division-master for men to follow
James, wherever he might be, and kill him. But he never did anything of
the sort, nor had he so intended when making the proposition.
McKenna was supported in his acts by Jack Kehoe, who, a little later,
swore that he would not be dictated to, and that if McKenna, who was, in
his sight, acting Bodymaster of Shenandoah Division, allowed Hurley and
Gibbons to tell him what he should and should not do, he would consider
it his duty, as County Delegate, to look after him, the Secretary, and
have him cut off.
The detective at the same time learned that Kehoe had just returned from
Mahanoy City, where he found the English and Welsh all assembled about
the public square, and no Irishman, or woman, could pass without being
insulted. Even the Celts who were not, and never had been Mollies, he
said, begged him to do something to end this unendurable state of
suffering. They did not care what was done if it only quieted the
Modocs, who were acting worse than their namesakes of the lava-beds in
the far west.
“I have sent Tom Donahue,” said the County Delegate, “up to Locust Gap,
to see Dennis Canning, County Delegate of Northumberland, but learned
that he had gone to Pittsburg and was at work there; an’ I now intend
getting Chris Donnelly, of Mt. Laffee, County Treasurer; Wm. Gavin, of
Big Mine Run, County Secretary; Mike O’Brien, Bodymaster at Mahanoy
City—and I invite you, McKenna, to be present—to hold a convention, on
the first of June, at Clark’s, in Mahanoy, an’ we will see what is to be
done wid the whelps, now barkin’ so lustily. Perhaps it might be the
thing to just bouldly an’ publicly challenge the whole pack to come out
an’ fight us. Some think we had best attack ’em in the night an’ shoot
down every one we meet, sparin’ only women and children! I hate shedding
of human blood, but these are mighty hot times, an’ something will have
to be put to work to give us our rights!”
“Sure, an’ I can’t but applaud your acts, Kehoe!” responded McKenna.
“Fur wan that ye have invited, ye may count on my bein’ at Clark’s
promptly on the day.”
The County Delegate expressed his pleasure, and said, if all the
gentlemen were like the Shenandoah Secretary the Modocs would soon be
silenced. The men then parted, Kehoe to attend to home measures, and
deal out whisky for his customers, and the detective to report to Mr.
Franklin and prepare for the great convention.
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