Matters were now lying quiet. They were like a line ball at billiards
which cannot be played at, and there was nothing "to go out for" by
any of the players in this double match. But occasionally something
"comes off," in even the most remote locality, which creates some
previous excitement, and forms the subject of conversation in all
ranks. Sometimes a steeple-chase, "five-sovereigns stakes, with fifty
or a hundred added," forms a speculation for the rich; with a farmer's
class-race for twenty pounds, without any stakes, for horses _bona
fide_ the property, etc.
A great cricket-match once "came off" not very far from the locality
of our story, when Major W--n lived at Mount Campbell, between the
officers of the garrison at Boyle and a local club. We belonged to the
major's province of constabulary at the time, and, as members, were
privileged to take part therein. The thing was rather new in that part
of the world at the time, but had been well advertised in the
newspapers for the rich, and through the police for the poor; and the
consequence was--the weather being very fine--that a concourse of not
less than a thousand persons were assembled to witness the game. There
can be little doubt that some of the younger portion, at least, of our
_dramatis personae_ in this tale were spectators upon the occasion. It
was within their county, and not an unreasonable distance from the
homes we are now writing of.
January and February had now passed by in the calm monotony of nothing
to excite the inhabitants of the Rathcashes. Valentine's Day, indeed,
had created a slight stir amongst some of the girls who had bachelors,
or thought they had; and many a message was given to those going into
C.O.S., to "be sure and ask at the post-office for a letter for me,"
"and for me," "and for me." A few, very few indeed, got valentines,
and many, very many, did not.
It was now March, and even this little anxiety of heart had subsided
on the part of the girls; some from self-satisfaction at what they
got, and others from disappointment at what they did not.
During this time Tom Murdock had seen Winny Cavana occasionally. It
would be quite impossible, with one common lane to both houses, and
those houses not more than three hundred yards apart, that any plan of
Winny's, less than total seclusion, could have prevented their
sometimes "coming across" one another; and total seclusion was a thing
that Winny Cavana would not subject herself to on account of any man
"that ever stepped in shoe-leather." "What had she to him, or to be
afraid of him for? Let him mind his own business and she'd mind hers.
But for one half hour she'd never shut herself up on his
account. Let him let her alone."
Tom Murdock was not without a certain degree of knowledge of the
female heart, nor of a certain amount of tact to come round one, in
the least objectionable way; at all events, so as not to foster any
difference which might have taken place. He did not appear to seek her
society, nor did he seek to avoid it. When they met, which was really
always by accident, he was civil, and sufficiently attentive to show
that he harbored no ill-will against her, and respected her enough to
make it worth his while not to break with her. He was now certain of a
walk home with her on Sundays from mass. On these occasions her father
was generally with her, but this Tom considered rather to be wished
for than otherwise, as he could not venture, even if alone, to renew
the forbidden subject. But he knew the father had approved of his
suit, and his wish was now to establish a constant civility and
kindness of manner, which would keep him at least on his side, if it
did not help by its quietness to make Winny herself think better of
him.
What had passed between Winny and Emon was not likely in a human heart
to keep up the constrained indifference which that young man had
burdened himself with toward her. He had, therefore, upon two or three
Sundays ventured again to go to the chapel of Rathcash.
It is not very easy to account for, or to explain how such minor
matters fall out, or whether they are instinctively arranged
impromptu; but upon each occasion of Emon having re-appeared at
Rathcash chapel, Tom Murdock's walk home with Winny was spoiled; more
particularly if it so happened that her father did not go to prayers.
Emon-a-knock was never devoid of a considerable portion of self-esteem
and respect. Though but a daily laborer, his conduct and character
were such as to have gained for him the favorable opinion and the good
word of every one who knew him; and apart from the innate goodness of
his disposition, he would not lose the high position he had attained
in the hearts of his neighbors for the consideration of any of those
equivocal pleasures generally enjoyed by young men of his class. He
felt that he could look old Ned Cavana or old Mick Murdock straight in
the face, rich as they were. He felt quite Tom Murdock's equal in
everything, mentally and physically. In riches alone he could not
compare with him, but these, he thanked God, belonged to neither mind
nor body.
Thus far satisfied with himself, he always stopped to have a few words
with Winny, when chance--which he sometimes coaxed to be propitious--
threw him in her way. Even from Rathcash on Sundays he felt entitled
now, perhaps more than ever, to join her as far as his own way home
lay along with hers, and this although her father was along with her.
If Tom Murdock had joined them, which was only natural, living where
he did, Emon was more determined than ever to be of the party,
chatting to them all, Tom included; thus showing that he was neither
afraid of them nor ashamed of himself.
The first Sunday after the dog-fight was the first that Emon had gone
to the chapel of Rathcash for a pretty long time. But, as a matter of
course, he must go there on that day to inquire for poor Bully-dhu,
and to ascertain if Winny Cavana had recovered her fright and fatigue.
We have seen that Winny had told her father sufficient of the
transaction of poor Bully's mishap to make it almost a matter of
necessity that he should allude to it to Emon, if it were merely to
thank him for "the trouble he had taken" in saving the dog. When Winny
heard the words her father had used, she thought them cold--"the
trouble he had taken!" her heart suggested that he might have said,
and said truly, "the risk he had run."
But, Winny, there had really been no risk; and recollect that you had
used the very same word "trouble" to Emon yourself, when you
knew no more of his mind than your father does now.
Tom had walked with them on this occasion, and old Ned's civility to
"that whelp"--a name he had not forgotten--helped to sour his temper
more than anything which had passed between Winny Cavana and him. But
all these things he was obliged to bear, and he bore them well, upon
"the-long-lane-that-has-no-turning" system.
But now a cause of anticipated excitement began to be spoken of in the
neighborhood; how, or why, or by whom the matter had been set on foot,
was a thing not known, and of no consequence at the time. Yet Tom
Murdock was at the bottom of it--and for a purpose.
There existed not far from about the centre of the locality of our
story a large flat common, where flocks of geese picked the short
grass in winter, and over which the peewit curled with a short
circular flap, and a timid little hoarse scream, in the month of May.
It consisted of about sixty acres of hard, level, whitish sod,
admirably adapted for short races, athletic sports, and manly
exercises of every kind. It formed a sort of amphitheatre, surrounded
by low green hills, affording ample space and opportunity for
hundreds, ay thousands, of spectators to witness any sport which might
be inaugurated upon the level space below.
Upon one or two occasions, but not latterly, hurling-matches had come
off upon Glanveigh Common. At one time these hurling-matches were very
common in Ireland, and were considered a fair test of the prowess of
the young men of different parishes. Many minor matches had come off
from time to time, but they were of a mixed nature, got up for the
most part upon the spot, and had not been spoken of beforehand--they
were mere impromptus amongst the younger lads of the neighborhood. The
love of the game, however, had not died out even amongst those of
riper years; and there were very many men, young and old, whose hurls
were laid up upon lofts, and who could still handle them in a manner
with which few parts of Ireland could compare. Amongst those Tom
Murdock was pre-eminent. He had successfully led the last great match,
when not more than twenty years of age, between the parishes of
Rathcash and Shanvilla, against a champion called "Big M'Dermott," who
led for the latter parish. He was considered the best man in the
province to handle a hurl, and his men were good; but Tom Murdock and
the boys of Rathcash had beaten them back three times from the very
jaws of the goal, and finally conquered. But Shanvilla formally
announced that they would seek an early opportunity to retrieve their
character. The following Patrick's Day would be three years since they
had lost it.
Tom Murdock thought this a good opportunity to forward a portion of
his plans. A committee was formed of the best men in Rathcash parish
to send a challenge to the men of Shanvilla to hurl another match on
Glanveigh Common upon Patrick's Day. Tom Murdock himself was not on
the committee; he had too much tact for that. "Big M'Dermott" had
emigrated, leaving a younger brother behind him--a good man, no doubt;
but as the Shanvilla boys had been latterly bragging of Emon-a-knock
as their best man, Tom had no doubt that the challenge would be
accepted, and that young Lennon, as a matter of course, would be
chosen as their champion. Had he doubted this last circumstance, he
might not have cared to originate the match at all. He had not
forgotten the poker-and-tongs jig about four months before. His
humiliation on that occasion had sunk deeper into his heart than any
person who witnessed it was aware of; and although never afterward
adverted to, had still to be avenged. If, then, at the head of his
hundred men, he could beat back young Lennon with an equal number
twice out of thrice before the assembled parishes, it would in
some degree wash out the humiliation of his defeat in the dance.
Upon the acceptance of this challenge not only the character of the
Shanvilla boys depended, but their pride and confidence in
Emon-a-knock as their best man.
At once, upon the posting of the challenge, with the names of the
committee, upon the chapel-gate of Rathcash, a counter-committee was
formed for Shanvilla, and, taking a leaf from their opponents' book,
their best man's name was left out. But he at the same time accepted
the leadership of the party, which was unanimously placed upon him.
Thus far matters had tended to the private exultation of Tom Murdock,
who was determined to make Patrick's Day a day of disgrace to his
rival, for since the scene he had witnessed with the dog and the
handkerchief he could no longer doubt the fact.
The whole population of the parishes were sure to be assembled, and
Winny Cavana, of course, amongst the rest. What a triumph to degrade
him in her eyes before his friends and hers! Surely he would put forth
all his energies to attain so glorious a result. He would show before
the assembled multitude that, physically at least, "that whelp" was no
match for Tom Murdock--his defeat Pat the poker-and-tongs jig was a
mere mischance.
The preliminaries were now finally settled for this, the greatest
hurling-match which for many years had come off, or was likely to come
off, in the province. Rathcash had been victorious on the last great
occasion of the kind, just three years before, when Tom Murdock had
led the parish, as a mere stripling, against "Big M'Dermott" and his
men. The additional three years had now given more manliness to Tom's
heart, in one sense at least, and a greater development to the muscle
and sinew of his frame than he could boast of on that occasion. He was
an inch, or an inch and a half, over Emon-a-knock in height, upwards
of a stone-weight heavier, and nearly two years his senior in age. His
men were on an average as good men, and as well accustomed to the use
of the hurl, as those of Shanvilla--their hurls were as well seasoned
and as sound, and their pluck was proverbially high. What wonder,
then, if Tom Murdock anticipated a certain, if not an easy, victory?
As hurling, however, has gone very much out of fashion since those
days, and is now seldom seen--never, indeed, in the glorious strength
of two populous parishes pitted against each other--it may be well for
those who have never seen or perhaps heard of it, to close this
chapter with a short description of it.
A large flat field or common, the larger the better, is selected for
the performance. Two large blocks of stone are placed about fifteen or
twenty feet apart toward either end of the field. One pair of these
stones forms the goal of one party, and the other pair that of their
opponents. They are about four hundred yards distant from each other,
and are generally whitewashed, that they may the more easily catch the
attention of the players. A ball, somewhat larger than a cricket-ball,
but pretty much of the same nature, is produced by each party, which
will be more fully explained by-and-bye. The hurlers assemble, ranged
in two opposing parties in the centre between the goals. The hurls are
admirably calculated for the kind of work they are intended to
perform--viz., to _puck_ the ball toward the respective goals. But
they would be very formidable weapons should a fight arise between the
contending parties. This, ere now, we regret to say, has not
unfrequently been the case--leading sometimes to bloodshed, and on, a
few occasions to manslaughter, if not to murder. The hurl is
invariably made of a piece of well-seasoned ash. It is between three
and four feet long, having a flat surface of about four inches broad
and an inch thick, turned at the lower end. Many and close searches in
those days have been made through the woods, and in cartmaker's
shops, for pieces of ash with the necessary turn, grown by nature in
the wood; but failing this fortunate chance, the object was pretty
well effected by a process of steaming, and the application of cramps,
until the desired shape was attained. But these were never considered
as good as those grown _designedly_ by nature _for the purpose_.
The contending parties being drawn up, as we have said, in the centre
of the ground, the respective leaders step forward and shake hands,
like two pugilists, to show that there is no malice. Although this act
of the leaders is supposed to guarantee the good feeling of the men as
well, yet the example is generally followed by such of the opposing
players as are near each other.
"A toss" then takes place, as to which side shall "sky" their ball.
These balls are closely inspected by the leaders of the opposite
parties, and pronounced upon before the game begins. There is no
choice of goals, as the parties generally set them up at the end of
the field next the parish they belong to. Whichever side wins "the
toss" then "skies" their ball, the leader throwing it from his hand to
the full height of his power, and "the game is on." But after this no
hand, under any circumstances, is permitted to touch the ball; an
apparently unnecessary rule, for it would be a mad act to attempt it,
as in all probability the hand would be smashed to pieces. The game
then is, to puck the ball through the opponents' goal. Two
goal-masters are stationed at either goal, belonging one to each
party, and they must be men of well-known experience as such. Their
principal business is to see that the ball is put fairly between the
stones; but they are not prohibited from using their hurls in the
final struggle at the spot, the one to assist, the other to obstruct,
as the state of their party may required.
Sometimes a game is nearly won, when a fortunate young fellow on the
losing side slips the ball from the crowd to the open, where one of
his party curls it into the air with the flat of his hurl, and the
whole assembly--for there is always one--hears the puck it gets,
sending it half-way toward the other goal. The rush to it then is
tremendous by both sides, and another crowded clashing of hurls takes
place.
When the ball is fairly put through the goal of one party by the
other, the game is won, and the shouts of the victors and their
friends are deafening.