After a ten minutes' walk we were out on a country road where the
darkness seemed to grow thicker with every step. We could see
nothing but trusting to our guides soughed up and down in the mud.
For twenty minutes we walked on, then we were told to turn to the
right. We could see nothing that showed a turning, still we turned
and found that we were in a narrower road than before. It was even
muddier than the road we had left but it was shorter. At the end we
were stopped by a door of what appeared to be a barn. One of the men
rapped on it and it was opened to us. We stepped inside and when our
eyes were used to the light again, saw a number of men with their
rifles. The hall was filled with standing men, a place was cleared
around the hearth upon which was blazing the biggest turf fire I had
ever seen. On a bench near the fire were a half dozen women; they
had brought food to the men and were now waiting to take the girls
home with them. After a short wait we started out again, still
following blindly where we were led. At length we came to a
crossroads and there the party divided. I, along with some other
girls, {105} was taken to a large farmhouse where the folk were
waiting up for us. We went into a large kitchen and sat around a big
turf fire. There was porridge, in a pot hanging over the fire from a
long hook, for those who liked it; and the kettle was boiling for
those who preferred tea. We had a long talk around the fire. The
old man told us of his experiences when he was a Fenian and drew
comparisons between that time and this. Our time was nothing like
his--so he told us.
In the morning we rose early; we expected to have word from Belfast
every minute telling us to get on the march. But no word came that
day. As the hours passed my anxiety became unbearable. I had had no
word from anybody since I had come there. The men and the boys could
not work for fear the word would come when they were in the fields
and might be delayed if they were not on hand. And all the day long
they were riding up and down the roads on the watch for the messenger
who would give them the orders to rise. The second day passed, still
the word never came. The men and boys came to us every hour to
report all they knew. And on Wednesday at noon a man burst into the
farmhouse crying, {106} "Pack up in the name of God, the word has
come!" With what joy we packed up. How quickly the water bottles
were filled and the haversacks stuffed with food. Butter, eggs,
bread, and milk were thrust upon us. We could not take enough to
satisfy the good people. The place was full of bustle and
excitement, and then--the order was rescinded; it was a false alarm.
That disappointment ended my patience. I determined to go after my
sister, who had not returned since she had left me to deliver the
dispatch written by Pearse; and when we were together again we would
both start for Dublin. I told the girls that I did not think that
there would be any need of us in the North, that the men in command
were waiting too long. That being the case it would be better for
them to go home to Belfast and Agna and I would go to Dublin. They
did not want to go from me, but I said I was speaking to them as
their officer and they should obey. After a good deal of explaining
they agreed to go home the next day.
I found that if I wanted to go to the town where my sister had gone,
I would need to go {107} by car. So a car was hired for me the next
day. Just before the hour set for them to leave, a brother of one of
the girls came to see what had happened to them. They all went home
together. The car for myself came a little later and in it I piled
as many of the Ambulance supplies as I could. There was only room
for myself in the back, most of the room being taken up with the
bundles. We started on our journey about six o'clock.
The town to which my sister had taken the dispatch was called Gortin;
but later I had heard that she was at Carrickmore, since when I had
not had any news of her. Before my mother had left Belfast she had
entrusted Agna to my care, therefore I felt that I could not return
without her. While on my way to Carrickmore to see if she was still
there I had to pass through a village whose streets were thronged
with soldiers. As we went out of the village and on into the country
we met at least half a dozen motor trucks filled with soldiers.
There were more marching behind, so many in fact that I asked the
driver if there was a training camp near here.
"No," he said. "There is not. I'm afraid {108} those fellows spell
trouble." Conscious that the soldiers were looking sharply at myself
and the bundles, I felt more than relieved when the car spun on out
of their sight.
{109}
X
It was about eight o'clock when we reached the farm at Carrickmore.
Fortunately the man to whom my sister had carried the dispatch was
there. As I was telling him who I was and why I had come, his sister
broke on me and exclaimed sharply:
"My God! Why did you come here?"
"Why," I asked in surprise.
"Did you not meet the soldiers on your way here?" she asked.
"Indeed, I did. I saw lots of them. What are they doing here?" I
asked, turning to her brother.
"They raided this place this afternoon," he said, "and have only left
here three-quarters of an hour ago."
"Raided the place!" I cried. "But, of course, they found nothing."
"They did, though," he said. "They found three thousand rounds of
ammunition."
"Three thousand rounds!" I cried amazed {110} and angry. "Where did
you have it hidden?"
"In the turf stack," he replied.
"In the turf stack! Good God! What made you put it there? Doesn't
every one who isn't a fool know that that would be one of the first
places they would look for it. Three thousand rounds of ammunition
in a turf stack! Couldn't you have hidden it some place else?
Couldn't you have divided it? Couldn't you have----" and I broke off
almost crying with anger and dismay.
"I know, Miss Connolly, you can't say or think anything more of the
loss than I do. But I haven't been able to look after things this
past week. I'm in hiding, chasing from pillar to post trying to find
out what is to be done."
"And what are you going to do?" I asked. "This is Thursday and the
men have been fighting in Dublin since Monday noon. What are you
going to do? Think of the numbers of men and boys, women and girls
who are at this minute in Dublin offering up their lives while the
men of the North are doing nothing. It's a shame! It's a disgrace!"
"What could we have done? The men were all dispersed when I received
the last dispatch. It's a different thing to mobilize men in the
{111} country from what it is in the city. There are a dozen or so
here; six miles off there is a score; ten miles off there are some
more, and so it goes all over the country. What were we to do?"
"Weren't you in a terrible hurry to obey MacNeill's order? Why were
the men chased home on Sunday night and Monday morning? They were
all gone when we arrived at Coalisland on Monday at one o'clock. Why
were you in such a hurry to demobilize the men when their Easter
holidays lasted till Tuesday? Did you not want them to fight? Were
you afraid that another order would come rescinding MacNeill's?" The
questions poured from me breathlessly; I was emptying my mind of all
the riddles and puzzles that had been tormenting it.
"Say what you like, Miss Connolly, what can I say?" And he spread
his hands in a helpless gesture.
"It's a shame," I commenced again. "Why did you not tell the men and
give them the option of going on to Dublin? Why were the girls so
honored? Why, the North can never lift up its head again. The men
in Dublin preparing to lay down their lives while the North {112} men
were being chased home by their commanders. It's awful!"
"Miss Connolly, can't you believe that I feel it as much as you do?
Think what it means to me that the men in Dublin are being killed
while we are here doing nothing."
"The men in Dublin are fighting for Ireland. In a short while you
may be fighting up here--and why? Because the Ulster Division is
already quartered in Dungannon and Coalisland, and are trying to
provoke a party riot by parading the streets in numbers, crying 'To
Hell with the Pope.' There are bunches of them sitting on the
doorsteps of Catholic houses singing 'Dolly's Brae' (the worst of all
their songs). And if they go beyond bounds and those Catholics lose
their temper, it will be in the power of England to say that while
one part of the country was in rebellion, another part was occupied
in religious fights. If you had issued another mobilization order
when you received the dispatch from Pearse, that could never happen.
Why didn't you issue that order?"
"We were waiting, Miss Connolly----"
"You were waiting. What for?" I broke in. "And now you have waited
too long. {113} There has been a flying column sent from Belfast,
some two hundred strong, and it has taken up such positions that you
are prevented from coming together. Dungannon, Coalisland, and all
around there is completely cut off from this part. There is nothing
now for the North men to do but sit tight and pray to God that the
Dublin men will free their country for them. My God! A manly part!
Where is my sister? I want to get her and go on to Dublin. I would
be ashamed to stay here while the people in Dublin are fighting."
"She took a dispatch to Clogher and is still there."
"Is Clogher far from here? Can I get there, to-night?" I asked him.
"No, you cannot get there to-night; it is too far away. It is over
the mountains. Stay here the night and you can set out in the
morning. Stay here as long as you like, make this place your home,
and don't be too hard on the North. We acted as we thought best, and
perhaps we are sorry for it now. It is MacNeill's order that must be
blamed. Good night, Miss Connolly."
"Are you going out? Do you not stop here?" I asked as I saw him
gathering up his {114} raincoat and cap. He straightened up his tall
figure.
"No," he replied. "I have not slept here since Monday. I am
determined that I shall not be arrested without doing something worth
while. Good night again, and remember that this is your home for as
long as you wish to stay."
"Good night," I answered as he left the room. Then it seemed that
all the hopelessness of the world descended on me as I thought that
here was another day gone, and I had not been able to accomplish
anything.
I left the room in a few minutes and entered the kitchen. One side
of the large farm kitchen was taken up by a fireplace. A large pot
that was suspended over a huge turf fire the light of which reached
across the room and danced and glistened upon the dishes that were
standing on the top rack of the dresser. It was a sparsely furnished
kitchen, for besides the dresser I could see only a table placed
under the window, some farm implements on the other side of the room,
and some benches. Except for the blazing of the fire there was no
light, and while the ceiling was a roof of ruddy light, the rest of
the kitchen was kept in {115} semi-darkness by the farm laborers, who
were sitting round the fire. The first thing I did was to arrange
and make tidy my bundles of bandages which had been carried into the
kitchen by the driver of the car. As I straightened up, my glance
fell upon one of the men sitting by the fire, whom to my surprise I
recognized as Lieutenant Hoskins of the Belfast Volunteers.
"Why, Rory," I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were in Dublin.
Didn't you go there Saturday night?"
"I did," I answered. "But I came North with a dispatch on Monday. I
intend to go to Dublin to-morrow. But you didn't say what you are
doing here."
"There was more chance of something happening here--we could do
nothing in Belfast."
"There will be nothing happening here," I said. "That's why I am
going to Dublin."
"Perhaps I'll try and make my way there to-morrow."
"I'd advise you to," I said as I left the kitchen. I was shown to my
room and lost no time in getting to bed.
{116}
When my sister was leaving with the dispatch, I took her haversack
from her so that she would not attract any unnecessary attention.
That I might look like an ordinary traveler I put her haversack along
with mine in a suitcase, and that suitcase had been carried to my
room. The events of the night proved that it was a lucky thing for
me that it had been brought to the bedroom. As I looked at it I
wondered if a suitcase had ever before been packed in a like manner.
I could not have been asleep fifteen minutes when I was awakened by a
tremendous rapping. In a few seconds the girl came to my room.
"Miss Connolly," she said. "What will we do? They are here again."
I instantly thought of my revolver and cartridges which I had carried
with me.
"Listen," I said. "Put on my coat and go down and open the door
before they get angry."
"Why should I put on your coat?" she asked.
"Because I have something in it that I do not wish them to see. Put
it on," I said, "and hurry down to the door."
{117}
When she had the coat on she went to one of the windows and opened
it. She put her head out and asked who was there. While she was
parleying with the soldiers I remembered that I had one hundred
rounds of ammunition in one of the haversacks wrapped up in some
clothing. I jumped out of bed and opened the suitcase. I had to
rummage because I dare not make a light. I pulled article after
article out of one of the haversacks in hot haste, but it was not
there.
I turned to the other one and began searching it. I had just felt it
when I heard a step on the stairs. Grasping it in my hand I sprung
back into the bed. I had only arranged myself and was lying down
when a light was flashed in my face.
The light was so strong that I could only lie there and blink my
eyes. In a few minutes the light was removed from my face and
flashed about the room, enabling me to see that it was held by a
District Inspector of Police, and that he was accompanied by a
military officer and some of the Royal Irish Constabulary. The D.I.
switched the light back on my face suddenly and asked:
"Are you only waking up?"
{118}
"Just now," I answered.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "We heard that some more stuff came to
this house to-day and we have come for it."
"It's not the most reassuring thing in the world to have soldiers and
police come into your room at this time of night," I returned.
"What is your name?" he asked. I told him. I did not give a false
one, as I did not know whether he had asked the girl downstairs my
name or not.
"Where are you from?" was his next question.
"Belfast," I replied.
"Is that your suitcase?" he asked, pointing to it.
"Yes," I said.
"Look in it," he said to the officer.
"There is nothing there but my personal property," I said.
"All the same we must look," the D.I. said to me, as he went down to
his knees beside the officer.
[Illustration: JOSEPH PLUNKETT]
They gave it a rather cursory examination. Then they opened the
wardrobe and looked into it, glanced into the drawers of the bureau.
My heart almost stopped beating when they {119} came near the bed.
What should I do if they told me to rise? But they only looked under
it, and passed out into the sitting room adjoining my bedroom. After
they had examined the room they went downstairs again. I could
hardly believe my luck. I was silently congratulating myself when I
heard their heavy steps on the stairs again.
They came into the room again. The D.I. said, as he poured the rays
of his lamp on my face, "We have found something downstairs which
made us come up here to look again." I did not say anything in
reply, only lay there and wondered to myself if they had found the
revolver on the girl and if she had told them to whom it belonged.
The military man was down on his knees at my suitcase once more.
"Did you say that there was nothing here but your personal property?"
asked the D.I. as he knelt down beside him.
And then began the second search of my suitcase. Very carefully he
lifted out each article and examined it. The stockings were turned
inside out as a woman turns them when looking for holes. The reason
for such an act I do not know, save that they might have thought that
I had a dispatch concealed in {120} them. The very fact that I knew
that there was nothing incriminating in the suitcase made me lie back
in the bed unconcernedly. Suddenly the officer said, "Ah!" and
passed something to the District Inspector. As they were between me
and the suitcase I could not see what it was. The District Inspector
turned his head over his shoulder and asked again, "Did you say that
there was nothing here but your own personal property?"
"I did," I replied.
"Well, what do you call this?" he asked, holding up two bundles
wrapped in blue paper. "Do you call these personal property?"
"Yes, they are," I said, seeking hurriedly in my mind for an
explanation. The parcel he was holding up for me to see held two
dozen roller bandages. "They're mine," I said with sudden
inspiration, "I got them cheap at a sale."
The answer evidently tickled the two men, for they laughed and one
said to the other, "Just like a woman." They next came upon a box of
tea, sugar, and milk tablets. The District Inspector asked as he
held it up, "Are you going to start a commissariat department with
these?"
"No," I answered. "They are no good."
{121}
Having completely overhauled my suitcase they next directed their
attention to the bureau drawers. Every piece of paper in the
drawers, letters, bills, etc., were read, and even the pages of books
were turned over to make sure that nothing escaped them. They looked
under the bed again and then passed out to the sitting room, where
they remained but a few minutes. Shortly afterwards they went
downstairs and then I heard them going out through the door.
Hardly were they out of the house when the girl came running to my
room. "Get up, Miss Connolly," she said. "Get up and go. They'll
come back and arrest you. Get up."
"Nonsense," I said. "If they intended to arrest me they would have
done it now and not wait till they came back. You're excited, but
there is no danger."
"You've just got to go, Miss Connolly," she said. "You can't stay
here."
{123}
XI
I was down in the kitchen before six o'clock. The girl had put some
bread and butter on the table, a cup of tea and an egg. My heart was
so full I could not eat but I managed to drink the tea. I then
turned to the place where I had stacked my bundles of bandages the
night before. They were gone, even the knapsack that held my few
days' rations.
"Where are all my things gone to?" I asked.
"The soldiers took them away last night."
"When?" I asked. "How did they come to see them?"
"After they came down from your room the first time," she replied.
"They asked me who owned those bundles. I said the girl upstairs.
Then they examined them, called in the soldiers and told them to take
those bundles."
"Did they take the haversack with my rations?"
"They took everything. And they asked me the name of the girl
upstairs. And I said I didn't know; that you came last night and
{124} asked for a night's lodging, and that I never turned any one
away from the door."
"You told them that!" I cried. "Did you want to make them suspect
me? Do you usually give your guest room to women tramps? In the
name of Heaven, how could you be so foolish?"
"Well," she said. "I wasn't going to let on that I knew you."
"What will I do?" I said. "Now they will be on the watch for me. I
can't go to Clogher by train. I'll have to walk. How far is it?"
"It's not five miles," she answered. "You can walk it easily. About
two miles from it you will come to a place called Ballygawley, and
there you can get a tram that will take you to Clogher."
"Five miles," I said. "I'll get there easily before noon. Which way
do I go?"
Before she answered a woman came in with a message from the girl's
brother. She looked at me suspiciously till she was told who I was.
I told her that I was going to walk to Clogher to get my sister who
was there, and that after that we would make our way to Dublin.
"To Clogher!" she said and looked at me in astonishment.
{125}
"Yes," I said. "Does your road go near Ballygawley? If so, I'll go
with you and you can point it out to me."
"Yes," she answered. "But----"
But I was already on my way to get the suitcase and did not wait to
listen to her objections. As I came down again I heard the girl say:
"--that's what I'd like to know."
"Well," I said. "What I'd like to know is who the girls were who
brought the message to Dublin from Tyrone. There were two, I know;
one was redhaired but it was the other delivered the message by word
of mouth. I'd like to know who she is."
"I brought the message," said the girl who belonged to the house.
"You brought the message," I said and stared at her. "YOU--did you
know that it was a wrong one? Don't you know that you reported a
false state of affairs? How could you?"
"Well enough," she answered. "You've ruined this farm with your
capers. The men are unsettled, my two brothers are in hiding, and
not a thing being done on the farm."
"Farm," I repeated and turned to the {126} visitor. I saw her blush
for her acquaintance with the woman who had no soul but for a farm.
"Come," said the visitor to me. "I'll show you the road." And
without another word we left. We went silently on our way. We
crossed fields which brought us out on to a road, along which we
walked for about ten minutes till we came to a branching of it.
"We'll go up here," said my guide. I saw that it was a kind of
boreen leading up to a very small farm cottage. As soon as we
entered the woman turned to me and said, "We're not all like
that"--not saying who or what she meant. Then again she said, "It's
our shame and disgrace that our men are not helping the men in
Dublin." A young man had risen from his seat when we entered. She
next spoke to him and gave him a message. "It's for him," she said,
nodding her head in the direction we had come from.
As she pointed to me she said to the young man, "She's going to walk
to Clogher."
"To Clogher," he repeated. "It's a long walk."
"I've the day before me," I answered.
"Well, I've got my message to deliver or {127} I'd go part of the way
with you. It wouldn't be so long or lonely if you had company."
"Thank you," I said. "But I'll get along all right."
"Can I do anything for you before you start?" asked the woman when he
was gone.
"Yes," I said. "You can give me a drink of water."
"Water!" she exclaimed. "Water! Indeed you'll get no water from me!
You'll just take a long drink of milk. You'll need some nourishment
to bring you over the long walk that's before you." With that she
handed me a huge bowl of milk. She stood by me till I finished it,
then she asked me if I had anything with me to eat in case I got
hungry on the way.
"No," I replied. "The D.I. and his men took away the bag containing
my rations."
"Well," she said, "you've got to have something." She commenced to
butter some biscuits.
"Don't bother," I said to her. "I'll get along all right without
that. I'll be in Clogher about twelve."
"O, you will," she said. "Well, just take these in case you don't.
And I don't think you will."
{128}
I took the biscuits, then lifted up my suitcase and started to leave
the house. "Wait a minute," she cried. She went into a room and
returned with a Holy Water bottle. She sprinkled me with it and
said, "May God bless and look after you, and bring you safely to your
journey's end."
She then pointed out the road to me and I began my walk to Clogher.
The road lay between low, flat-lying lands for the better part of two
miles. There was neither hedge nor ditch dividing the fields from
the road; nor were there any trees for shade. It was a most lonely
road; I walked on for hours and never met a soul. The sun was
roasting hot that day, and I was heavily laden. Besides the suitcase
containing the two kits which I was carrying, I was wearing a tweed
skirt and a raincoat over my uniform. As I walked, the fields on one
side of the road changed and in their place were bogs. An
intolerable thirst grew upon me and there was nothing with which to
slake it.
Gradually the road became a mountain road. Had I not been so tired,
what with the weight of the suitcases and the clothes I was wearing
and the broiling sun, I could have admired {129} the quiet, shadeless
road that stretched along for miles trimming the skirt of the
mountains. The mountains sloped away so gently from the road as to
seem no more than hills. Patches of olive green and brown edged with
a brighter green rose one above the other, each one more pleasing.
Here and there the trimming was the golden furze or whin bushes; and
on towards the top patches of purple and blue told of the presence of
wild hyacinths. And above all was the pure blue and white of the
sky. Below, the mountains, on the left of the road stretched the bog
as far as I could see, brown, brown, browner, and finally black.
Here and there, standing cut sharply against the dark background,
danced the ceanawan--the bogrose--disputing for place with the
ever-present furze. Yet all I could think of was that I must walk
for miles on that lonely country road, with never a tree for shade
and never a house to get a drink in.
I knew by the height of the sun that it was nearly twelve o'clock,
yet I had not come to Ballygawley. In terror I thought for an
instant that I had taken the wrong road, and then I remembered that
the woman had told {130} me that there was only the one road until I
came to Sixmilecross.