Early as Barry was up on the morning following his introduction to the
reader, he found Tom and Greaves in the bar-room, discussing one of
O’Brien’s favorite decoctions, which was averred to possess the virtue
of giving a “fillip” to the lagging appetite, and attuning it to the
healthiest possible breakfast pitch. Nicholas, although not addicted
to early potations, was prevailed upon to join the party. During, the
friendly conversation which accompanied this faithless libation to the
Goddess of Health, Greaves observed that while he did not feel himself
at liberty to speak freely in the mixed company of the preceding
evening, notwithstanding what might have been termed his unfriendly
insinuations in relation to Ireland, he was himself a true friend of
Irish freedom; and, on all befitting occasions, an humble champion of
her total and unequivocal independence of England. Here he produced a
letter, from a secret pocket in the lining of his vest, which he handed
to Tom for hasty perusal; remarking, at the same time, that he well knew
to whom he was submitting it. A hurried glance at the contents induced
O’Brien to open his eyes wider than they had been opened for some time,
and to regard his companion with an almost bewildered stare!
“Sure enough, it’s his handwritin, and it’s as thrue as the sun,”
ejaculated Tom, as he folded up the letter and returned it to the owner,
“and it’s a different opinion both Nick and myself had of you last
night, although sorry I am for it now; and there’s my hand for you.”
“What’s up now?” retorted Barry, well knowing that O’Brien would never
have offered his hand to Greaves, unless there were good reasons for it.
“Nothin’ more,” returned Tom, “beyond that we had formed a wrong opinion
of our frind here, last night; for, instead of his bein’ what I was
half inclined to take him for, he cannot fail to be other than the right
stamp, or he never could have that letther in his pocket.”
“That’s enough for me, Tom,” replied Barry, extending his hand to
Greaves, “for whoever you endorse is sure to pass muster, in this place,
at least.”
The conversation here became low and confidential; being interrupted
only by an occasional customer who dropped in to take his “morning;”
until, at last, breakfast was announced, and the soldier and Greaves,
taking the hint, were soon snugly seated side by side in the little
parlor of the preceding night, at a neat and comfortable table, smoking
with some of the good things which so constantly characterized The
Harp. O’Brien, from his other avocations, was unable to join them at
the moment; so they both conversed freely on the topic that had just
commanded their attention in the bar, and which referred to neither more
nor less than the intended invasion of Canada by the army of the Irish
Republic, then said to be preparing for a descent upon the Provinces,
in the neighboring Union. Nicholas was unable to give any definite
information upon the matter; as the authorities of the organization in
the United States were very reticent regarding it, and Greaves himself
appeared but little better informed. Barry, however, expressed the
opinion that, if any man in Canada had thorough information on the
point, it was Tom; although he himself had no very tangible grounds for
making the observation, notwithstanding the strength of his surmises.
“Do you not belong to the organization yourself, and if you do,
ought you not to be in possession of some facts on this all-important
movement?” rejoined Greaves, “and if you are not a member, surely you
are sufficiently true to Ireland to have been informed, to some extent
at least, in regard to it, by your friend O’Brien, who is, I learn, a
Centre here.”
“Well, strange as it may appear,” returned the other, “I don’t belong to
the Brotherhood, not having, yet had an opportunity to join it; and
as for Tom, whatever my suspicions may be, I really am unable to say
positively that he is in any degree connected with the organization;
although I am sensible that his sympathies, like my own, lie in that
direction.”
“How is your regiment situated on this point,” remarked Greaves,
leisurely breaking an egg and commencing to chip the shell.
“A good many of my way of thinking,” replied the other; “but, as you
know, it is necessary to be cautious, as not only is the commanding
officer a tartar, but most of the swords and sashes are of the same
kidney. The fact of the case is, however, several of our fellows have
deserted, and no doubt will join the organization in the States, and
render good service to the cause there, in a military point of view.”
“Why don’t you follow their example and do something for your poor,
down-trodden country,” said Philip in reply, “seeing that now is the
time she needs the service of all her children?”
“There is no necessity for my deserting,” rejoined Barry, “for I have
already applied for my discharge, which I expect to receive this
very day; so that ere the sun sets, in all probability, I shall be a
freeman.”
Greaves became silent here for a few moments, as if revolving something
in his mind, when, lifting his head again, he resumed the conversation
by asking:
“Are strangers permitted to visit the Fort? If so, I should be very glad
to take a peep at it this morning, as I shall have a few boars to spare
before I can do any business, or rather before the parties I have come
to see will be prepared to meet me.”
“Why, not as a general thing, just now,” returned Nicholas, “but I think
you may be able to gain admittance if you are accompanied by me, who
will, of course, vouch to the sentry for you.”
“Then if you allow me,” said Greaves, “I shall avail myself of your kind
invitation, and cross the bridge with you after we have breakfasted, for
I can well imagine that during a period when such rumors are afloat, the
Commandant as rather chary of permitting strangers to enter his gates.”
In this strain the conversation flowed until breakfast was ended, when
the friends proposed to sally forth from the Harp, and wend their way to
the point already mentioned. As Barry was leaving the bar-room, however,
Tom whispered something in his ear, which appeared to puzzle him for a
moment, but returning a keen glance of recognition, both he and Greaves
passed out into the cool, fresh morning-air, and began slowly wending
their way to the Fort.
There being as yet no special order about the admission of strangers,
Greaves, with Nicholas by his side, passed the sentry without question,
and proceeded to the canteen, which, early as it was, showed some signs
of life. Here Barry introduced his new acquaintance to many of his
comrades; but in such common place terms, as to attract no attention
whatever on the part of any person. Being for parade, however, he was
obliged to leave his friend in other keeping, for a short period, and so
hastened to the barrack-room to prepare himself for his morning duties.
During the interval of his absence, Greaves stepped out of the canteen,
alone, and learning that the Colonel was speaking to some of the
officers near the parade ground, made his way towards where the group
was standing, and crossing the path of the Colonel as he was walking
towards his quarters, accosted him in a manner which soon arrested the
progress and attention of that officer, and brought him to a dead halt.
The conversation was brief and rapid, while a slip of paper thrust into
the hands of the Colonel, by Greaves, seemed to place both on a strange
footing of recognition. So brief was the interview, that it was not
observed by any individual in the garrison; and so quickly did Greaves
return to the canteen, that his absence was scarcely noticed. Here Barry
found him as he had left him, making himself agreeable to the soldiers;
being more than liberal in paying for all they drank. As the bugle
sounded for parade, he bid our young hero “good bye for the present,”
and leaving the Fort, proceeded to retrace his steps towards the town,
or city, as it may be called.
When he arrived here, instead of returning to The Harp, he bent his
steps in another direction, and entered a hotel that was in every
relation the very antipodes of the establishment in which he had passed
the night. Here, in every direction, were to be found the traces of an
English spirit and blind adhesion to wretched and exploded traditions.
In the office hung the portrait of the cruel Queen of England, and that
of her defunct consort, whose injustice and pedantry were so snubbed
by the illustrious Humboldt. Here, too, were to be seen the likeness
of the--iron-hearted, it should have been--Duke, presenting a birth-day
present, or something of the sort, to a moonfaced yonker that sat fair
and plump upon the knee of its royal mother. In another corner was to be
found a representation of the Prince of Wales, for whose head and
face the engraver had done infinitely more than nature; while directly
opposite stood, in a dark, heavy frame, the one-armed hero of the Nile,
who owed so much of his fame to poor Emma Harte--the unfortunate Lady
Hamilton, who, after having conferred the most serious benefits upon
England, was permitted to starve, with her daughter, in a garret
somewhere in or near Calais; while some of the spurious offspring of
orange and ballet girls filled many of the highest offices in the land
she had so often served.
In this establishment the subject of Fenianism was discussed as a
leading topic, in a manner quite different from the style in which it
was treated at the Harp. Here no voice was raised in its favor--no word
of justification advanced in its behalf. Still, although its importance
was ignored ostensibly, there were a nervousness and misgiving about
some of those who conversed upon it, which showed that they were ill at
ease. There seemed, in addition, to be some vague sense of insecurity
preying upon them, which could only have originated in their want of
confidence in themselves, or in some person or persons to whom were
entrusted the gravest interests of the Province. This was the more
obvious, from the fact, that, from time to time, mysterious and
half-whispered enquiries were made, in reference to one particular
individual, whose state of health or mind seemed at the moment to
engross no ordinary share of the attention of the numerous guests that
filled the bar or office, for the apartment was used as both.
Greaves listened with open ears to all that transpired, and, after
inspecting the hotel register, took up a morning paper and seated
himself in an arm-chair at his side. While engaged, as he feigned to
be, in perusing the news, although actually endeavoring to catch every
whisper that floated around him, he gathered, that, for the week or
ten days proceeding, one of the most important functionaries in the
Province, who, although a clever man, was sorely addicted to fits of
intemperence, was now, while the country was convulsed with gloomy
forebodings, regarding Fenianism, again passing through one of his
prolonged and fearful drinking bouts, and totally unfit to pay even the
slightest attention to the momentous business of his office. Already, it
was averred, numerous dispatches, of the most vital moment, were lying
unopened upon his table, where they were scattered, wet and stained with
wine and debauch, some of them having, as it was urged, been obviously
disfigured, in part, for the purpose, perhaps, of lighting cigars;
while, pale, wretched and half insane, the miserable creature to whom
they were addressed, reclined on a sofa by their side, jabbering to
a few bloated boon companions, obscene jests and amusing anecdotes,
through which the fire of his own native wit sometimes shot brilliantly,
though but for a single moment. This, we say. Greaves gathered from the
conversation around him, and as in one or two cases he perceived, on the
part of the speakers, scarcely any desire to preserve a tone of secrecy
on the subject, he felt pretty much assured, that the case was a bad
one indeed, and that the individual who could so far forget his own
interests for the sake of the bottle, and who could be tolerated in any
position of high trust in the State, while addicted to vices of such
a character, not to mention others, thought by the Hamilton _Quarterly
Review_ to be of a graver nature were that possible, must be sustained
by the influence of persons terribly deluded, or creatures vile in their
degree in turn, and who, like himself, were regardless of the trust
reposed in them by the people. And yet, as Greaves afterwards learned,
this same man came to Canada a poor, bare-footed, Scotch lad, with a
father whose only fortune was an old fiddle, and that inexorable but
praiseworthy characteristic of his country--a determination to collect
the bawbees at whatever shrine first presented itself on the shores of
the New World. Be this as it may, the daily press of the Province has
since verified the correctness of the whispers heard by Greaves,
and made public the accusation, that this individual, so recently
distinguished by a mark of royal favor, for three weeks previous to the
invasion of Canada, was so lost in a whirlpool of the most deplorable
intemperance, as to be utterly incapable of opening or attending to the
important dispatches which lay scattered and unheeded upon his bedroom
table.
When Greaves returned to The Harp, he found O’Brien in a state of great
excitement. A soldier, as it appeared, had just arrived from the Fort,
with the information that the Colonel, on second consideration, did not
find it justifiable to apply for Barry’s discharge, at a moment when
the country was threatened with danger; and that, as the regiment
should soon be ordered home, as he was assured, he had determined not to
recommend any discharges until it had reached England. This intelligence
had been conveyed to Nicholas by the Colonel in person, after parade,
and in a manner which precluded the slightest hope of its being reversed
by any succeeding alteration of opinion on the part of the individual
who communicated it. A thunderbolt, had it fallen at the feet of the
young soldier, could not have startled or paralyzed him more. He was
actually struck dumb by it Here was the chalice dashed from his lips
at last. He turned away in despair; but as he was for duty, he was
constrained to smother the tumultuous feelings within his breast. When
alone, however, and pacing his lonely round with his musket on his
shoulder, he had time to measure, with sufficient calmness and accuracy,
the length, breadth and depth of the great misfortunes that had befallen
him. There was but one course left open to him. He had sought to
purchase his discharge and leave the service, without the taint of
desertion attaching to his name amongst any of his comrades, although he
felt that he was not morally bound to remain in the service of England,
for a single moment longer than it served his own private ends.
Desertion, then, was the only course left open to him, and he was
determined to follow it, upon the first fitting opportunity. Another
reason why he would rather have been discharged in the ordinary manner
from the service: if he once deserted he should never again, with any
degree of security, visit any portion of the British dominions; and
as Canada lay so close beside the United States, he would gladly have
avoided the inconvenience of being shut out from it, as O’Brien and more
than one of his friends resided there. However, there was now no help
for it; to England he should never return, and so he disposed of the
matter in his own bosom. When relieved of duty, then, and with his
purpose fixed firmly in his heart, he once again visited The Harp,
where he found Tom and Greaves lamenting over the intelligence of his
misfortune, and to whom, in a moment of anxiety and excitement, he
disclosed his determination to quit the service, and gain the shores
of the neighboring Republic the first favorable moment that presented
itself. Tom appeared somewhat agitated if not alarmed; at so serious
a disclosure, made with such apparent unconcern; and it was only when
Barry remembered the hint of the morning, which O’Brien gave him as he
was about proceeding to the garrison, that he, himself, felt that he had
perhaps been too incautious and precipitate before a person who, after
all, was but a stranger to him, although apparently a kindly one. The
cat being out of the bag, however, there was now no help for it; and
as Greaves seemed to enter warmly into the project, and even offered to
share his purse with Nicholas, if there was any necessity for it, the
matter was allowed to rest as it was, and suspicion of Greaves, if any
remained in the breast of either the soldier or Tom, was driven into the
background, and constrained to remain in abeyance for the time being.
When Barry again returned to his quarters, he freely discussed his
disappointment among his comrades, and declared his determination to
lay the matter before the Commander-in-Chief, averring, with great
earnestness, that he had always done his duty, and that he was not
accountable for the state of the country, and should not be called upon
to suffer for a condition of things outside and beyond his control, and
which he was in no manner instrumental in bringing about. His argument
seemed plausible enough, but then what, at any time, his argument, when
it ran counter to the desires or intentions of his commanding officer?
Therefore, the matter, after having been subjected to due discussion,
was allowed to fall asleep in the usual stereotyped style; although as
may be supposed, there were one or two breasts, at least, that were kept
alive and active by it. Nicholas, believing that any intelligence of his
embarrassment on the subject would but perplex and pain Kate, determined
not to write to her regarding it, but to be the first to bear her the
news himself. As already observed, she had written to him to procure
his discharge at the earliest possible moment, and now to learn that
his freedom was jeopardized for an indefinite period, involving, in
addition, his return to England first, would be a renewal of her old
agony. This he was determined to spare her; so, to those of his company
in whom he could confide, and who were themselves ripe for any project
that would tend to their total disseverment from the flag they so
detested, he cautiously communicated his intentions, finding, in return,
that more than one of them were on the eve of trying their fortune in
the same manner. Soon, then, a sturdy little band had determined to
leave the Fort, whatever night Barry should pitch upon; premising, of
course, that it should be some one on which he would be on duty, and at
a favorable point.
This much arranged, Greaves and Tom were made acquainted with the whole
particulars of the plot; the former entering, to all appearance, heart
and soul into it, and furthering it in every manner within the limits
of his power. In fact, Greaves was actually behaving in a manner which
staggered some suspicions still entertained by Tom, notwithstanding the
letter to which reference has already been made, for he agreed to assist
in forwarding the escape of one of Nicholas’ company that had deserted
sometime previously, and was still concealed in the outskirts of the
town, in a place known to Barry only, and where he was hemmed in by
detectives from his regiment that were continually traversing the city
in colored clothes, or stationed as look-outs at certain points in its
vicinity. Barry was most anxious that this poor fellow should not be
left behind, and as Greaves promised to procure a disguise for him and
have him conveyed secretly to Tom’s on the night that the project of
leaving the Fort was to be put into execution, Barry, at the request of
Greaves, penned a note, which he hastily sealed with a love device well
known to the deserter, and which he had himself received at the hands of
the beautiful girl of his heart. The note ran thus:--
“Place the fullest confidence in the bearer. Follow his directions
implicitly. Your fate hangs in the balance. He will lead you to
where we shall meet. In great haste, &c.,
“NICHOLAS BARRY.”
This note he handed to Greaves, who immediately consigned it to his
pocket-book, and set forth, as he alleged, to reconoitre the hiding
place of the soldier, and make such arrangements in his behalf as the
necessities of the case required.
As the brief missive just quoted was written in O’Brien’s, and in the
presence of Tom himself, when Greaves left the premises, the host with
some uneasiness observed:--
“I don’t know how it is, Nick, but somehow or other I cannot divest
myself of sartain lurkin suspicions which I have of that man; although
there is not a single Irish Nationalist in the city that would not offer
him his hand and a glass afther seein the letther that I saw. However,
you will remimber that the first night he came I didn’t warm to him,
as I tould you, notwithstandin that I had to give up the next mornin.
Still, and withal he appears to be actin fair, although I can’t make out
exactly what he’s about here. Any way, in for a pinny in for a pound,
so we must make the best of it; but, if I find that he is playin
foul--well, God Almighty help him, and that’s all I’ll say. However,
three nights from this will tell the whole story, and if you all make
good your escape, you may take my word for it, I’ll make a clane breast
of it to him and ask his pardon into the bargain. I think with you that
it was wise not to write to Kate about your throuble and disappointment,
or apprise her of your intintion, as it would only agonize the poor
craytshure; but should you be foiled and taken, what a dreadful thing
it would be for her to hear instead of the intelligence of your freedom,
that you were in the depths of a dungeon from which you might have no
manes of escape for years!”
Barry absolutely shuddered at the possibility of such a _denouement_ to
the scheme that now absorbed his whole mind and soul. Although sensible
of the risk he ran, he never paused to regard the peculiar features of
the case as presented by his friend; but now that they loomed up before
him in such bold and fearful relief, he almost shrank from pushing
farther the dangerous project he had undertaken. Yet, there was no other
channel through which he could hope to become speedily the husband of
the woman he loved; while, if he abandoned it, he might probably be
separated from her forever, as he felt convinced, that should an ocean
roll once more between them, she would not long survive the calamity. In
a moment, then, the faintness of his heart had passed away, and in
its stead came the firm resolve to prosecute his design to the death;
feeling that imprisonment for any term of years on the shores trodden
by the being he adored, was preferable to freedom, such as it was, in a
land cut off from her by the trackless desert of the great deep.
Re-assured once more, then, he continued cautiously the preparations
for his departure, attending to his duties with his usual assiduity, and
still murmuring at the decision of the Colonel. Neither he nor Tom,
of course, ever approached the hiding place of the refugee already
mentioned, although they managed to hear from him occasionally, and
to keep his spirits up. Had either, by day or night, ventured near
his retreat, they could scarcely have escaped notice--the one from his
soldier’s uniform and the other from his remarkable height and personal
appearance; they were, therefore, with all their misgivings, relieved of
their embarrassment in this relation, by the generous offer of Greaves,
who, as it seemed, had abundance of means at his command to further any
project that he might think proper to undertake relative to the escape
of the deserter, or those who had now determined to join him.
In this way, then, matters stood on the very evening which was to close
in the night selected by the intending fugitives, to put their designs
into execution. Everything was ready, and as the clock struck twelve and
the streets of the city were partially deserted, a cab rumbled up to
the door of The Harp, and Greaves and a stranger, muffled to the eyes,
stepping from it, entered the establishment and passed through the bar
into Tom’s little parlor. Greaves had kept his faith--the stranger was
the deserter!