Had O’Neill a single troop of cavalry when he broke the British lines at Ridgeway, the 2d day of June, 1866, would have been the darkest that had ever occurred in the annals of Canada. He would have literally annihilated all the forces that were brought against him on that field, and struck such terror to the heart of the enemy, as to have still farther paralysed their volunteer service and destroyed the confidence of the Canadian people in the vaunted invincibility of the arms of England for many a long day, if not for all time to come. But owing to circumstances already referred to, he fought under every disadvantage possible to an invading army. Still, as the case stood, his triumph was not the less brilliant or decisive. He routed the enemy, horse and foot; and had he been in a position to dispose of prisoners, he could have taken a very large number with scarcely any effort; from the fact, that after the fearful charge that had broken through their lines, they became completely panic stricken and demoralized. As he pursued the flying forces towards Ridgeway, what he would have given for a few mounted riflemen or dragoons; but as a signal and glorious defeat was more his object than the spilling of blood, he now felt, unsustained as he was, it would be wise to fall back upon Fort Erie, in the hope that reinforcements had arrived there, although he was unable to leave even the smallest handful of a garrison to maintain the foothold he had so far achieved. Seeing there was nothing further to gain but everything to lose by remaining longer in a position he could not by any possibility maintain, in view of the hostile forces that he knew would soon be pouring down upon him from other quarters, he paused on the verge of the carnage that he might have wrought still further, and addressed himself to securing the safety of his little band of heroes and occupying some position on the frontier from whence he could, if hard set, effect his transit across the river, or take up a final stand, fighting until the last man fell in his ranks, if necessary to the success of any landings that he might learn of as having taken place on the Canadian shore at other points, or in view of the intention of the authorities at Buffalo to reinforce him, and enable him to pursue the campaign, so gloriously opened, with renewed hope and vigor.
The news of the disastrous defeat of the British arms spread like wild-fire; throwing the inhabitants in the immediate vicinity of Ridgeway, as well as those of the village itself, into a state of the most fearful consternation. Houses were barricaded and property concealed in the full anticipation that the conquerors would act upon the world-wide maxim, “to the victors belong the spoils.” But, as we have already seen, it was the government and not the peasantry or people of the country that O’Neill had come to overthrow. No better evidence of this could be afforded than that shown by the circumstance, that, although two infamous and relentless robbers, and their scarcely less culpable acquaintance and friend, Wilson, had, for two days and two nights, followed in the wake of his army, not a single opportunity was afforded them of joining any portion of his command in a stealthy raid upon the habitations or any of the people, or of taking an advantage of the confusion and lawlessness which almost invariably surround the camp of an invader. From first to last, his troops observed with singular fidelity, his order that the lives and property of the Canadians not found in arms against him, should be held as most sacred. And in no instance, although the temptations were various and marked, was this injunction violated. On this head, Major Denison himself is most explicit; and when we have the testimony of an enemy upon the subject, the most exacting incredulity cannot look for more conclusive evidence in the premises.
As already observed, when the rout and confusion of the English commenced, they fled in all directions; but their main body set off, at full speed, for Ridgeway, through which village, and for a mile beyond it, they were pursued by the Irish forces. As was to be expected, their wounded and dying strewed the way; while those who were thoroughly acquainted with the locality made their escape to the shelter of whatever woods or dwellings were to be found along the line of retreat, without actually bordering upon it. Amongst these latter were Greaves and the persons who made such a sudden and deadly attack upon Barry while engaged in looking after the dead and wounded that were found convenient to the house already referred to. This habitation ought to have been well known to one of the party at least; for it was neither more nor less than the residence of Wilson, in which Kate M’Carthy and Martha and her aunt had barricaded themselves, in the apartment of the former, after having secured the outer doors, when they heard the tide of war rolling towards them. Wilson, understanding how the case stood with them, when he found he could not gain admission, and being sensible that they could not hear his voice, hastily effected an entrance by a window in a sort of out kitchen, attached to the rear of the building, and soon admitted his companions; re-bolting the door, and running up stairs to warn the other inmates of the house not to speak or stir, but remain barricaded as they were, until they heard from him again. This done, he descended to where his comrades were, and was about to make some observation, when the Kid instantly drew the attention of Greaves to the party who were collecting the dead and wounded hard by, among whom he at once recognized Barry. In the twinkling of an eye, the countenance of Greaves was lit with an expression the most revolting; and turning to his companions he exclaimed in a low, hissing voice—
“Now, my countrymen, we can avenge ourselves in part, at least, for the disasters of the morning. There stand some of the most active and dangerous of the army of the invader, and it is for us to take signal vengeance on them, and not permit a single one of them to escape out of our hands. We must not risk firing upon them at a distance so great; as should we chance to miss a single shot, they would be sure to slip beyond our reach. Let us rush out upon them then, with such arms as we have at our command; and after giving them a volley pounce upon them knife in hand, for they appear quite unconscious of any impending danger. Above all things, do not let that officer escape. He is the most deadly enemy we have had to encounter to-day. Let him, at least, be despatched without fail, and one thousand dollars shall be distributed amongst you the moment I find him a corpse before my eyes.”
The Kid, Jack and Wilson understood all this; for the first of the villains had explained previously to the latter two, that Greaves was interested to an unaccountable extent, in the death of Barry; and had, on that very morning, before he left Ridgeway, promised him a round sum if he managed to despatch him in any way; whether by stealth, or otherwise. This he attempted, as we have already seen; but hitherto without the desired effect; so that, now, when his game was within his reach, and where he felt that he should be the gainer, no matter by whom our hero was laid low, he immediately fell into this second proposition, as did all the others who stood around him.
In a few moments, then, Wilson procured the masks already noticed; they being a portion of his stock in trade, and loading the three rifles they had at their command, the door was stealthily opened and the assault made, which had resulted in such disaster to themselves.
When Barry had recovered from the utter surprise occasioned by the presence of Greaves, and overcome the speechless astonishment into which it had thrown him, he knelt down beside the wounded man, and began to examine into the extent of his injuries. At first a few flesh wounds about the shoulders and arms were all that he could discover; and as these had bled freely, he fancied that the feeble condition of the wretch, was attributable simply to a loss of blood; and, now, that his wounds had been staunched, he believed he should gradually recover strength, so as to be able to offer some explanation of his presence in that part of the Province, as well as of the circumstances in which he now found himself. On a closer examination, however, and just about half an inch below the nipple of his left breast, the young soldier perceived a small discolored wound, evidently made with the point of his own sword during the struggle that had just terminated, and from which not a single drop of blood had flowed, outwardly at least. Here, without a doubt, all the danger lay; and as our hero was not versed in injuries, beyond the reach of external applications, all he could do was to bathe the bitter, little, blue or discolored orifice—the lips of which seemed to be pressed together in a vicious sort of manner—in some of the water that had been previously procured at the adjoining house, when the wounded men were removed from the open field. During this operation the eyes of Greaves were steadily fixed upon him, and when he had again bathed the wound and adjusted the head of the unfortunate sufferer on a pillow made of some hay found in one corner of the shed, the lips of the patient became as it were suddenly unsealed, while the light of a larger intelligence, rushed full into his eyes. At this period the wounded companions of our hero were comparatively easy, on the temporary couch made for them by the stranger, just before he disappeared and entered the dwelling a second time; so that, for the moment, there was not much to distract his attention from anything that Greaves might vouchsafe to say, some terrible foreboding having just rushed into his mind, based upon the dying intimation of Smith, that the man who lay thus helpless and for aught he knew dying before him, was in some way connected with the fate of his betrothed.
Scarcely had the conviction seized upon him, when Greaves motioned him to draw nearer. On eagerly complying with the request, he bent his ear almost to the lips of the sufferer, who breathed with great difficulty, and whose voice was scarcely audible, so weak had he become. As though by some effort of his indomitable will, however, he managed to collect all his energies into his tongue and throat; and after whispering through his compressed and pallid lips the single word “listen!” began slowly as follows:
“I am Edward Philip Darcy. I have lost, for I know that my hour has come!”
At the mention of the name “Darcy,” Barry sprang to his feet! Before him lay the son of the man to whose machinations all Kate’s poverty and hardships were clearly traceable. He it was that was now concerned in the Chancery suit, the decision of which was to be replete with such serious results, as he presumed, to Kate. His father had been dead for some time, and had bequeathed his interest in the case to him! He was the only person living who could stand in the way of the property it involved being placed in the hands of its lawful heir; for the claims of Darcy, whatever they might be, expired with this, his only son, and the last of his name and race. The consideration was startling in the extreme; but as our hero saw how necessary it was to command his feelings, and listen to whatever Greaves, or Darcy, as we shall now call him, intended to say, he resumed his position and listened, as the wounded man continued:—
“I worshipped gold and power; and as there was some fear of the suit, of which you have often heard, being decided against as, on the death of my father, I stepped into his shoes, as a man who could make himself useful to the Government, and as one, in these troublous times, pre-eminently calculated to dip into the secrets of Fenianism at home and abroad, and apprise the British authorities of its power, aims and objects, as well as make them acquainted with all its plans and prospects. Although I now surmise I had really to do with the Privy Council itself, I was ostensibly employed by an important official connected with the Castle of Dublin, who, besides paying me liberally for my services, promised to influence the Court of Chancery in my favor, touching the decision now pending; provided that, after doing all I could to unearth the leaders and plans of Fenianism in Ireland, I crossed the Atlantic and commenced operations upon the Brotherhood in America, of which the Canadian government seemed unable to say much that was definite, however they might have apprehended mischief from this quarter. It was known at home, that but little confidence could be placed in the efficiency and honesty of a Cabinet that tolerated a shuffling inebriate at its head; so that from the contradictory official documents reaching the Castle from Canada, through the Imperial authorities, it was, I suppose, deemed advisable to send me out to learn something of the true state of the case. Influenced thus, I set about my work with right good will; and after doing what I could in Ireland, started for this country, with Fenian credentials that, I need not inform you, were obtained through the treason of one of the Organization who had gained admission into the Brotherhood for the simple purpose of betraying it; but who was not sufficiently deep in its plans and confidence to damage it mortally.
“But the strongest inducement I had to visit America was the circumstance of Kate McCarthy’s having emigrated to that country, and a desire which I had long felt of gaining her affections and, if possible, making her my wife; for notwithstanding all the promises of the Castle, I was fearful that the Chancery suit would go against me—a suspicion heightened by the conviction of my lawyer. I knew, of course, all about your engagement to her, but being aware of your having entered the army, and of your having, through an adverse fate, been separated from her by two seas, I thought that I should be able to estrange her feelings and love from you, and make her mine before you again saw her face. But here I had deceived myself. She was not to be moved, and I was repulsed at every point, until, maddened by repeated failures, I determined to make her mine by force. Under the name of Edward Lauder, I first was introduced to her, having managed to trace her from Quebec to Toronto, after rendering good service to the home government in the former city. From the first moment she beheld me, she seemed to entertain an aversion towards me; and when she became aware of my intentions regarding herself, and heard my repeated insinuations touching the general faithlessness and bad character of private soldiers on foreign service, all semblance of cordiality was at an end between us; and soon, perceiving that her friends favored my suit, she left Toronto and took up her abode with some relatives in Buffalo.”
Here the wounded man became faint and silent; but Nicholas, anxious to hear all he had to say, bathed his brow and moistened his lips with the water which still stood in a large wooden vessel by his side. This seemed to refresh and revive his spirits; so that he soon continued, although with increasing difficulty.
“I knew that your regiment was stationed in the city where I first met you; and the thought struck me, that if I could separate you both forever, by betraying you into some act that would consign you to a dungeon or penal servitude for life, or else make away with you secretly, I should have some hope of accomplishing my designs regarding her; and, in case the Chancery suit was decided against me, reap the full advantages of it after all.
“With this scheme deep within me, I followed her to Buffalo, and there became acquainted with the two men that I saw fall a short time since, who had engaged with me, for a certain sum, to keep their eyes upon all her movements whenever I was absent from that city, and obey me in everything, even to her forcible abduction into Canada, if necessary. These men I knew to be desperate characters; so when I made this arrangement with them, and was well assured that they would carry it out if needs be, I started at once in your direction to see what opportunities might there present themselves in furtherance of the design that now seemed to absorb my whole being.
“A man like me, easily found out your city-whereabouts; and, as you are already aware, shortly after my arrival I formed your acquaintance and that of O’Brien, whom I previously learned to be a relative of Miss McCarthy, to whom, since you had been quartered in the Fort, she had already paid a couple of visits. Soon learning your Fenian tendencies, and hearing that you had applied for your discharge and expected to receive it immediately, I determined if possible, to prevent your becoming a freeman on British soil, and to goad you into desertion; as it was rumored, that your regiment was soon to be called home, and knowing that you would never accompany it, even though your discharge were denied you. My object then was, to do, what I actually did do the morning I accompanied you to the Fort. While you were getting ready for parade I managed to exchange a few words with your commanding officer, showed him my credentials from the Castle, and told him that you sought your discharge only for the purpose of joining a Fenian army now about to invade the province; with the further view of placing them in possession of all you knew of the weak points of the Fort. The theory worked like a charm,—you were denied your discharge; and now I knew you would desert. In this, however, I was determined to help you; and, at the same time, cause your betrothed to be lured in some way into Canada, and consigned to some safe, out-of-the-way keeping, where no one should know of her, until I made my appearance as if by accident before her; and where I knew you would not be likely to seek her, from the fact, that once you were a deserter you would be out-lawed forever from British soil.
“You yourself furnished the means of this abduction in a manner the most innocent. You will recollect the note sealed with a peculiar device, that you gave me to the deserter concealed in the city in which you were stationed, telling him to entrust himself wholly, and without question to whomsoever presented it. This note, after exhibiting it to your friend, I retained and perceiving that it would answer my purpose, as it mentioned no names, I enclosed it at once to my agents in Buffalo, instructing them to present it to Miss McCarthy, and without a moment’s delay, convey her across the river to some secluded spot, where she was to be held at all hazards, until further orders from me, or until I was able to visit her myself. My injunctions were obeyed, and all was well—you had deserted and Kate McCarthy was in my power!”
At this point of the infamous revelation, Barry writhed in the most fearful agony, and was on the eve of strangling the villain that lay helpless before him; but his good angel, rushing to the rescue, restored him to reason once more; and while great beads of perspiration stood on his brow, he endeavored to compose himself to hear the terrible recital to its close.
“But,” continued Darcy, “after all my generalship you are master of the field, and she cannot fail to become the possessor of the property justly or otherwise so long estranged from her, although I fear it is already embarrassed with heavy costs.”
“But where is she now?” exclaimed Barry, as the gasping man finished his terrible narrative.
“I know not,” whispered the other with an effort. “As I had not an opportunity of paying the stipulated sum to the men who undertook her abduction, they kept the place of her concealment secret from me until I should perform my part of the contract, which I could have done this day, only for the fate that has overtaken us. There is, however, no doubt of her being in the Province, and, likely, somewhere in the very region where we now are.”
“But,” he whispered, with increasing difficulty and spasmodic interruptions, “I feel as if I were suffocating! Water! Water! Oh! God!” And with a bound that almost brought him to his feet, he sprang clean from the ground on which he lay; and the next moment fell back heavily, a corpse!
And so perished the four men, who scarce an hour previously were as full of life and vigor as their hearts were of evil thoughts and designs. There can be no doubt, that they fell through the instrumentality, unconscious as it was, of the very individuals whom they had injured; differing only in their shades of criminality. In other relations, besides the one to which their fate may be mainly attributed, they were doubtless guilty to an enormous extent. Black Jack, Smith and Wilson were unquestionably old offenders; the two former having the heavy scent of blood about them; while Darcy or the pretended Lauder or Greaves, whatever his antecedents may have been, showed himself capable of any atrocity known to the history of crime. The cup of their iniquity was full; or they had not fallen so signally, thus. How steadily the avenging angel follows in the footsteps of the wretch who makes war upon humanity or does continual violence to the divine spark which, in a greater or less degree, illumes the breast of every human being born into the world. Throughout the whole of their infamous career, these men were well apprised of the fact, that they were engaged in open rebellion against God and Nature, and thus it was, that they were cut off in their prime, without one sympathetic tear, to soothe their last moments or hallow their graves.
Such were the meditations of Barry, as he stood over the inanimate frame of his implacable foe; but soon awaking from his revery, he felt how dreadful to know that his beloved was, perhaps at that very moment, suffering in captivity or exposed to dangers consequent upon the disturbed state of the country at some point, where, now that her persecutors, who had at least provided for her daily sustenance, were dead, she might, on this fact becoming known, be subjected to further injuries, or wrongs that might be irreparable. The thought maddened him; and he was groaning aloud, in the agony of his spirit, when his ears were arrested with the returning tumult of O’Neill’s forces, after their having made the second of June, 1866, memorable in the annals of Canada, and those of Irish Independence. Gazing steadily for a moment on the terribly distorted features of his fallen enemy, he turned towards the wide shed-door to make some arrangements regarding the removal of his wounded comrades, when his opportune friend again emerged from the house, and rejoined him as he was stepping across the threshold.
“How fares it with your antagonist, now?” enquired the stranger as he cast a hurried glance towards the body of Darcy, not knowing that its spirit had already taken its flight forever.
“Dead!” returned Barry. “They who assailed us but a short time ago are all gone to their last home, save the man who made his escape on your arrival and interference, whoever he may be.”
“That’s sharp practice,” rejoined the other; “but in my opinion they richly deserved what they got, for they fought as murderers and not as men.”
“Would to heaven,” returned Nicholas, “that one of them at least had escaped the fearful chastisement inflicted upon him; for his death has enshrouded in darkness a question which presses heavily upon my heart, and one that I have no means of solving. But pray, sir,” he continued, “do you reside in this vicinity, and if you do, perhaps you would be kind enough to say, whether you have heard, recently, of the arrival of a strange lady in this locality, who had been lured from her home and friends under false pretenses; and who is, as I now have every reason to believe, in questionable hands?”
“May I ask your name?” returned the stranger, without replying to the question, and eyeing Barry from head to foot, “and may I, in addition, inquire what is the name of the lady to whom you allude?”
“My name,” replied our hero, “is Nicholas Barry, and the name of the lady is Miss Kate M’Carthy.”
“Mr. Barry,” hastily observed the stranger, extending his hand, “my name is Henry Evans, and my kinswoman, Kate M’Carthy, is well and now in safe keeping.”
At the mention of the name, Evans, and the assurance that his betrothed was safe and well, the heart of Berry so bounded within him, that after the blood had poured itself in one mighty torrent through his whole frame and blazed over his face and brow for a moment, he became as pale as death, and had not his newly found friend leaped forward and caught him in his arms, he should have fallen fainting to the ground. Recovering himself speedily, however, he leaned against the huge door-post at his side, and, breathing with more regularity, soon became cool and collected.
Evans could well understand this sudden emotion. His own heart was just in the vein to sympathize with it; so, in a moment the subtle freemasonry of kindred spirits was established between them.
Who can explain it? Here was a brave, young fellow, with the heart of a lion, who had faced death in various shapes but an hour or so previously—who had within the brief space of two days engaged hand to hand in the most dreadful encounters with the enemy, without experiencing the slightest sense of fear, or condescending to yield a single inch of ground where he had set down his foot—here, we say, we see him succumb at once, and rendered as helpless as a child at the mere mention of a woman, and the assurance of her safety, although not by any means thoroughly satisfied of her being in anything like imminent danger. We shall not attempt to analyse the subtle and powerful influences at work in such mysterious cases; but simply content ourselves with the observation, that men who are susceptible of such influences, and who strike at once to the first tap of their drum, are not notorious for any great deficiency when brought face to face with a more tangible and terrible enemy. And so thought Henry Evans as both he and Nicholas sallied forth; the former to report to the gallant O’Neill, and the latter to re-enter the house already so often Ridgeway.
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