tried to hurry towards him but could not. With every step the
suitcase was growing heavier and my hands were becoming so sore that
to hold the handle was absolute pain. And my thirst was growing. I
could not understand how it was that I had not met with running
water, it is usually so plentiful in Ireland. Finally my thirst grew
so clamorous that I knelt down by the bog, lifted some of the
brackish, stagnant bog-water in my hands and drank it. Immediately I
began to think, "What if I contract some illness from drinking that
water--what if I get fever----" And I had visions of being taken ill
by the roadside with no one to look after me. Rut the old man was
very near me now, and as we came abreast I asked him, "Am I near
Ballygawley?"
"Ballygawley," he replied. "Daughter dear, you are six weary long
miles from Ballygawley."
"Six miles!" I thought in despair. "How had the girl made such a
mistake?"
I stumbled on till I was completely worn {131} out and not able to go
more than a few yards at a time. And then, while I sat by the
roadside feeling that I could not rise again, I saw two girls coming
towards me on bicycles. When they were nearer I thought that I
recognized a voice. And I was right, for one of the cyclists was my
sister. I struggled up from the ditch and staggered out on to the
road in dread that they might pass me. Agna jumped from her bicycle
and let it fall to the ground as she saw me swaying. She helped me
back to the ditch. All I could say to her at first was, "I'm
thirsty, so thirsty." She peeled an orange and gave it to me. I
knew that I was babbling all the time, but neither of us could
remember what I had been saying when we tried to think of it
afterwards. I did not know that I had been crying till Agna said,
"Don't cry, Nora. Here, let me wipe your eyes." Then I saw where
the tears had splashed down on my raincoat and felt that my cheeks
were wet. I suppose I was weeping from sheer physical exhaustion.
"Weren't we lucky to come this road, Teasie? This is my sister
Nora," said my sister to the girl who accompanied her. "We were
going to take the lower road," she said, {132} turning to me, "but we
were told that although this was the longer it was the easier for
cycling. And now, I'm glad we took the longer one, for if we hadn't
we would never have met you."
"Where were you going?" I asked.
She told me.
"Why," I cried, "that is the place I have left."
"Is that so?" said Agna. "Then we needn't go. You can tell us the
news. We wanted to find out what happened during the raid yesterday."
As I sat there on the ditch I told them all that had happened from
the capture of the three thousand rounds of ammunition to my own
expediences. When I finished Agna took the suitcase and balanced it
on her bicycle and said:
"We may as well go back now."
"I'll cycle on in to Ballygawley," said Teasie, "and find out when
there will be a train this afternoon. You can come on after me."
"How far are we from Ballygawley?" I asked.
"About two miles," she answered.
"Never mind," said Agna, when she saw my {133} expression at that
news. "We will go so slowly that you'll never notice it."
The three of us went slowly along the road, Agna and Teasie taking
turns at carrying the suitcase. At a turn in the road Teasie mounted
her bicycle and rode off. After we had walked a long distance I said:
"Agna, I can't walk any further. I'll have to sit down."
I sat for quite a while till Agna said, "Try again, Nora. Keep at it
as long as you can. When we get to Ballygawley you'll not have any
more walking to do."
"Wait a while," I answered.
While we were sitting Teasie returned.
"You'll be in plenty of time," she said.
I stood up and we started off again. When we arrived at the
outskirts of Ballygawley Teasie said, "I called in at a house I knew,
and they are making tea for us. You'll be refreshed after it."
It was into a shop we went and in a room back of it a table was laid,
and tea was ready for us. I drank the tea thirstily but was too
tired to eat, although various things were pressed on me. When tea
was over Teasie said to Agna:
{134}
"We'll go on our bicycles and meet Nora at the station of Augher.
That," she said, turning to me, "is the station before Clogher. I
think it would be better to get off there than in the station at
Clogher. Every one would see you and they would be making all the
guesses in the world as to who you are. The police would see you,
too, as you would have to go past the police station. If you get off
at Augher you can cross the fields to our place without any one
seeing you. That's all right, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said.
[Illustration: THOMAS MACDONAGH]
They rode away. A young lad took my suitcase to the station for me
and waited till the train came. The train was only the size of a
trolley but had the dignified title of the Clogher Valley Railway. I
sat in the corner and closed my eyes. I opened them at every stop to
see if there was any sight of the girls. But it was not till the
conductor called out, "Next stop Augher," that I had any glimpse of
them. Over the hedge that divided the rails from the road I saw
Agna's black curly head bobbing up and down and caught a smile from
under Teasie's big-brimmed hat. They were peddling for all they were
worth in an attempt {135} not to be too far behind the train in
arriving at Augher.
I waited at the station for about ten minutes before they came. They
jumped off their bicycles; and we commenced to walk along the side of
the rails. About fifteen minutes after we crossed over into a field.
It was a stiff piece of work for the girls to push their bicycles
through the fields and lift them over hedges. When we had gone
through four fields we commenced to climb a hill. Near the top of
the hill we clambered over another hedge and crossed one more field
before we arrived at the farm which was Teasie's home. Teasie's
father and mother had made it a home for Agna since she arrived at
the town; and to me they also extended a very kindly welcome.
"She has walked all the way from Carrickmore," said Teasie to her
mother. "We met her two miles outside of Ballygawley."
"Did you walk all that distance?" asked Mrs. Walsh.
"Yes," I answered. "I don't see how it took me so long to walk it,
I'm usually a good walker."
"When did you start?" she asked me.
"Before eight," I answered.
{136}
"I think you did very well to walk it in one day," she returned.
"Agna and Teasie were going to cycle there and stay over night
because it was such a long ride."
"I was told that it wasn't five miles," I said.
"Five miles!" cried the mother. "It's fifteen if it's one, and a bad
road at that. You'll want to rest after it. Take her into a
bedroom, girls, and let her lie down."
The girls brought me to a bedroom and gave me cool water to bathe my
face and hands and feet. Then they ordered me to go to bed. But
although I went to bed I did not sleep.
I had been lying there for about two hours when Agna peeped in to see
if I was awake.
"Come in," I said.
"Nora, what are we going to do?" was her first question.
"I am going to Dublin as soon as we can and you, of course, are going
with me."
"I had my mind made up to try and get there to-morrow when we came
back, but I am glad you are here, for now we can be together and
won't have to worry about one another." She was speaking in her
usual breathless fashion. "I'm afraid we can't go {137} to-night,"
she said. "Did you hear that there is fighting in Ardee?"
"No," I answered. "I did not hear that; but if there is, we'll go
there. It's on our way to Dublin. The men who are fighting will
probably make their way to Dublin. If we can catch up with them we
will be safer and more sure of getting there. Find out if there is a
train to-night."
She went out and returned in a few minutes.
"No," she said. "There is no train to-night, but there is one
leaving at five minutes to six in the morning."
"Well," I said. "I suppose we'll have to wait for that."
We caught the five minutes to six train in the morning. It brought
us to a junction where we took tickets for Dundalk.
"You're going to a dangerous place," said the ticket agent.
"We won't mind that," we replied.
When we arrived at Dundalk the station was full of soldiers and
constabulary. We hurried along out of the station so as not to
attract attention. Agna went back and asked a porter if she could
get a train to Dublin. The porter told her that the only train going
{138} there was a military one, and that the line was in the hands of
the military. "There's no telling when there will be a train," he
said.
It was then about one o'clock. "Come along," I said to Agna. "We
will look for a restaurant and decide what we will do while we are
eating." We walked down the street looking for a restaurant. At the
foot of the street we saw one, a very small place. Just at the
restaurant the street curved, and around the curve we saw that a
barricade had been erected by the police authorities. Luckily we did
not have to pass it to get to the restaurant. When we had entered
and had given our order to the proprietress, she said that it would
take some time--would we mind waiting? We assured her that we would
not mind waiting and went into the parlor to talk over our situation.
The first decision arrived at was, that as we did not know the name
of the villages and towns on the road to Dublin and could not hire a
car to take us to any of them, it would be necessary for us to walk.
Our next decision was that we would have to abandon our suitcase as
it would be likely to attract attention. In order to carry out the
second I told Agna that she must go out to buy some brown paper {139}
and string. Also, that while she was doing so she must find out if
we would have to pass the barricade to get to the Dublin road. The
reason why I sent Agna on this business, and did not go myself, was
that Agna was so childish looking that no one would suspect her of
trying to get to Dublin. Then again I knew that I could trust her to
find any information necessary to us; she had been a girl scout and
had learned the habit of observation. Also, her accent was more
strongly Northern than mine.
With a parting adjuration from me not to be too long lest I become
anxious, Agna went out on her errand. As she reached the door the
proprietress came out of a room and said, "Are you going out, little
girl?"
"Yes," said Agna, "I am going out to get a paper."
"Will you do a message for me while you are out?"
"Certainly," said Agna, "What is it?"
"Do you know the town?" asked the woman.
"No," said Agna, "I haven't been in it this long time." (She had
never been in it before.)
"Well," said the woman. "I had better {140} come to the door and
show you the place I want you to go to." She did so and gave Agna a
message to the butcher's. Agna was glad to do the message because if
she were stopped now and asked where she was going to, she could give
a definite answer. She left the door and walked towards the
barricade. The policeman on duty there did not stop her as she
walked through. The barricade was formed simply of country carts
drawn across the roadway, leaving room for only one vehicle to pass
through, and it was at this space that the policeman stood. As I sat
by the window, I saw the policeman stop and examine cyclists,
automobilists, and all other vehicles that were passing through. The
barricade was on the road running from Dublin to Belfast.
Within twenty minutes Agna returned. She came into the parlor and
gave me a bundle of brown paper and string, and then went out to
deliver up her other message. She came back quickly and began to
tell me the result of her observations. The best thing was that we
were on the right side of the barricade and we should not have to
pass it when we started out. But her next bit of information was not
so pleasant; it was that according to the {141} automobile signs
there were fifty-six miles to Dublin. Still, nothing daunted, we
began to transfer our kits from the suitcase to the brown paper.
When we had finished we had two tidy-looking bundles much more
convenient to carry than the suitcase.
While we were eating our dinner the question arose as to what we
should do with the suitcase. We settled it by asking the
proprietress to take care of it till we came back from Carlingford.
She was quite willing to oblige us, she said, as Agna had been so
obliging to her. I then paid the bill and we left the restaurant. I
felt rather badly at leaving the suitcase behind me, as it had
accompanied me for some ten thousand miles of my travels; it was like
abandoning an old friend.
{142}
XII
It was about two-thirty on Saturday when we started to walk from
Dundalk to Dublin, and when it began to grow dark we were still
walking. While we were discussing the problem of where to spend the
night, we came upon a barricade. We were in a quandary. What were
we to do? We slowed up in our walking but that was no use; we were
bound to pass it eventually--or be detained. We had not the
slightest idea as to what we should do. We did not know the name of
the next village, so we could not say that we were going there. We
did not even know the name of the village we were in! What should we
do? If we were stopped and searched--I had my revolver and
ammunition and Agna wore her uniform under her coat and skirt--enough
evidence to have us arrested. However, we put on a brave face and
stepped forward bravely towards the barricade. About six yards from
it we encountered two strong wires {143} which were stretched across
the entire width of the road, one reaching to the chin and the other
to the knees. To give the impression that we had passed that way
before and that we knew all about the wires, we ducked our heads
under the high wire and put our legs over the lower one, then
continued our walk to the barricade.
It was in charge of a corporal's guard. As we came abreast the
soldiers, evidently thinking that we were country girls doing our
Saturday's marketing, made some remark, in a broad Belfast accent,
about carrying our bundles for us. In an accent broader than theirs,
Agna gave them some flippant answer at which they roared with
laughter; and while they were laughing we passed on. Further on we
came to the village proper. Not until we saw the sign over the Post
Office--"Dunleer P.O."--did we know the name of the village through
which we were passing.
As we walked it grew darker. "What will we do--where will we spend
the night?" I said to Agna. "There are no hotels about here, and if
there were we could not go to them as we would have to register. If
we ask at the cottages for a night's lodging they may {144} become
suspicious. If we walk all night we may meet military or police
patrols, and that would mean that we would be sent to Armagh Jail
instead of going to Dublin. What will we do?"
"O, pick out a nice field and spend the night there," said Agna
airily.
"It looks as if that is just what we'll have to do," I said ruefully.
"Come on and pick one before it gets too dark."
We heard a dog barking further down the road--that was the only sign
of life. We judged that it was about nine o'clock and that every one
was in bed. There was a path that turned to the right off the road
which we took and walked along for about one hundred yards. Then we
clambered over the hedge and into the field. It looked as if we had
chosen a good place for we found ourselves in a sort of dell covered
with grass and heather. We searched and found, as we thought, the
softest place. Everything around us was so still that we felt
compelled to talk in whispers. We could feel the darkness descending
on us as Ave sat there, forgetting our weariness in the novelty of
the situation.
{145}
We had been silent for a long time when Agna said, "To-morrow will be
Sunday."
"Yes," I said. "We'll look queer carrying bundles through the
villages on a Sunday."
"So we will," said Agna. "Look," she said suddenly. "Why couldn't
we put on everything we can. It will make us fatter but it will make
the bundles a respectable size. And we'll be warmer to-night," she
added.
Her last remark decided me. I had been growing colder every minute I
sat there and any suggestion to relieve me was welcome.
"All right," I said. "Let's start and put them on."
We opened the bundles and were very busy for some time. When we had
finished there was twice the amount of clothing on than we had when
we begun. We looked at each other, feeling bulky.
"I hope my coat will go on me," said Agna as she began to put it on.
"There now, I've got everything on me except my towels, and brush and
comb. Oh, and my putties."
"You can put them in your coat pocket," I said.
"I've got safety pins, roller bandages, my {146} handkerchiefs and my
purse in them so there's no room there."
"Put them in your raincoat pocket." She did so and stood up to
inspect herself.
"O Lordy," she exclaimed. "I'm an imitation umbrella." Then she
turned her attention to me.
"How did you get on?" she asked.
"Like you," I replied. "Only I've a pair of stockings left."
"Put them on you?" she said. "What's the use of getting boots two
sizes too big for you, if you can't wear two pairs of stockings when
you want to?"
I had forgotten that I could not get my size when I was buying my
marching boots, and was compelled to take a pair two sizes too large.
I put the stockings on.
"I never felt so big and heavy in my life before," I remarked.
"You'll be used to it by morning," she said consolingly. "Lie down
and go to sleep."
"Sleep--" I commenced when she interrupted me to ask, "Nora, do you
think there are any earwigs here? They might get into our ears when
we are asleep."
"Earwigs," I repeated. "I don't know. {147} But there's bound to be
other insects and they would just as easily get into our ears as
earwigs."
"What will we do?" she asked anxiously, for she was tired and wanted
to sleep. I looked about and saw the towels.
"Put them around our heads," I said, pointing to them. So we each
took a towel and pinned it around our heads to keep out wandering
insects while we slept. But we need not have worried about what
might happen to us while we slept, for we did not sleep that night.
As we lay there we could see the stars come out one by one, yet we
could not sleep. The quietness of the place kept us listening
expectantly for we knew not what. A heavy mist began to cover the
field and wrapped itself about us till our clothes were dampened
through and through. For the first time, I think, we were physically
aware of the number of bones in our bodies, for each one seemed to be
dancing to a tune of its own. Our teeth were chattering so that we
could not speak. In an effort to keep ourselves warm we lay close
together with our arms round each other. But our efforts were of no
use; we could not {148} sleep nor could we keep ourselves warm. We
gave the struggle up and huddling close to the ditch we sat and
waited for the dawn.
After an infinity of time the dawn came. Far off at the furthermost
edge of the field we saw a streak of gray. As we watched it
gradually widening we heard a cock crow in the distance. Under the
descending light the fields seemed a glistening sea and our tweed
skirts as if sprinkled with diamonds. The birds began to awaken and
to chirrup in the hedges. For all we could see or hear, the birds
and ourselves were the only stirring, living beings.
We sat on waiting for time to pass. As we did not have a watch with
us we gauged the time by the sky. The distance between us and
Drogheda we knew to be less than eight miles; and there was a
possibility that we might get a train from Drogheda to some of the
local stations. But as we were not sure we decided to recommence our
walk, so that we would be all the earlier on our way to Dublin. With
this thought in our minds we rose stiffly and plodded down the path
to the main road. We really did not feel tired. As a matter of
fact, we were anxious to have as many {149} adventures and
experiences as possible to tell our father when we reached Dublin.
We pictured ourselves sitting on his knees, as we had often done
before, telling him everything, watching for the ever-ready twinkle
in his eye, and saw him give the quick throwback of his head, when we
came to the more laughable parts of our story. It was this picture
that helped us over the hard parts of our journey. As we went along
the road to Drogheda our conversation consisted mainly of--"Wait till
we tell Papa this--" or, "What will Papa say to that--" and, "Won't
he laugh when we tell him--," so we whiled away the time, fixing
firmly in our minds the most amusing parts of our journey.
It was not until we were within two miles of Drogheda that we met
with any one on the road. The first person we saw was a cyclist,
next we saw a man and woman going to milk the cows. And then as we
went further along the road we saw many more people wending their way
to town. At last, we came to Drogheda. It was practically
deserted--a few milk-carts and a couple of policemen were all that we
met as we proceeded into town. Then a church bell began to ring. We
followed the sound and soon had joined a crowd {150} that was
hurrying to church. We were in time for seven o'clock Mass.
After Mass we wandered about a little hoping to find a place where we
could get something to eat, also to find the road to Dublin. On
account of it being Sunday and so early in the morning there was no
place open. Although hungry we were not as much annoyed at the
result of our search for food as contented when we came upon the road
to Dublin. As we walked on I saw the railway station. A thought
struck me, perhaps we can get a train now. I turned to Agna and
said, "Go up to the station and ask if there will be a train to
Skerries to-day."
In about fifteen minutes she returned and said there would be no
trains running but the military trains. Then once again we started
on our tramp.
Agna complained of hunger, and I was none the less hungry. We had
not eaten since one-thirty the day before. "Would it be any use, do
you think," I asked, turning to Agna, "to call at some of the
cottages and ask them to make some tea for us?"
"It might be worth trying, anyway," she replied.
{151}
"Well," I said. "I'll wait till it gets a little later then I'll go
to some of the cottages and ask."
It was after nine o'clock when I first ventured to a cottage. A
woman opened the door to my knock, she had a bonnet on and was
draping a shawl about her shoulders.
"We have been walking since early morning," I said, "and want to know
if you will make us a cup of tea."
"I would," she replied, "only I've barely time to get to Mass. I'm
sorry, but I can't miss Mass. I've to walk to Drogheda."
"No," I said. "It wouldn't do to miss Mass."
She came to the gate and bade me a cordial good-by. I tried two or
three cottages after that, but from them all I had the same
story--they were all going to Mass, so we had to go without our
breakfast.
Just outside Drogheda we saw a milestone bearing the legend "Dublin
25 miles." And from then on the only excitement of our journey was
to see who would be the first to spy a milestone. When we saw a
milestone marked "Dublin 18 miles" we were exhilarated--Dublin seemed
only a few steps away.
{152}
Sunday was, if any thing, warmer than the preceding day, and our
double outfit made us dreadfully uncomfortable. I knew that it was
not the heat or the long walk, or the two pairs of stockings that was
responsible for the burning pain in my feet. My feet were burning me
as never before. Agna had great faith in liniment. She likes to
take it with her when she goes for a long walk; she says it takes the
pain and stiffness from her muscles. When we were making our
preparations the night before she had "linimented" herself as she
calls the operation. I had had no pain or tiredness, but the soles
of my feet were sore, and Agna, in her unfailing faith in the bottle,
had "linimented" them, overruling whatever objections I had. And
now, I was suffering torments--the liniment was burning its way into
my flesh, made tender by the two pairs of stockings, heavy boots, and
long march. At last, I could stand it no longer, so I said to Agna,
"I must get my boots and stockings off--I'll have to get some relief
or I'll go mad."
[Illustration: EOIN MACNEILL Professor of Early Irish History, Head
of the Irish Volunteers, whose demobilization order "broke the back
of the rebellion," according to the report of the British Royal
Commission. Yet in spite of this he was sentenced to prison for life.]