As remarked in a preceding chapter, Kate M’Carthy had some distant relatives in the vicinity of Fort Erie; and, as fortune would have it, the two strangers who, on the night before the battle of Ridgeway, interrupted the murderous designs of Smith, belonged to the family with whom she claimed kindred. One of these, Henry Evans, who had once met her in Toronto, on hearing from Martha of her presence in Wilson’s house and the circumstances that surrounded her, instantly requested to be conducted to her, with a view to reassuring her and offering her the protection of which he was satisfied she stood so much in need. The recognition was mutually exciting, and on the part of Kate appreciated with heartfelt gratitude. Explanations ensued which placed her friend in possession of all that was, for the present, necessary for him to know; and it was at once agreed upon, that she should accompany him on the ensuing morning to the residence of his widowed mother, not far distant, where she was to remain until Barry or her friends in Buffalo could be communicated with; as her return to the United States, at a period so disturbed and critical, was, of course, out of the question. New life and hope welled up through this arrangement; and the poor girl, who but a few moments previously believed herself in a position the most dangerous and difficult, now found herself under the protection of her own stalwart kinsman.
Martha, also, was delighted that the being she herself so loved had made a discovery that not only quieted the painful anticipations and reflections of her new friend, but gave herself an opportunity of speedily abandoning forever a roof that had now become loathsome to her, as she had already made up her mind to accompany Kate to the house of old Mrs. Evans, who, notwithstanding her suspicious associations, loved her for her own sake, and desired that she should forgo all further intimacy with her uncle, and become the wife of young Henry. In this way matters stood until the morning of the second of June—Henry remaining throughout the night with the alarmed family; there being nothing to fear in the direction of his own residence, which lay quite out of the line of the two armies that were now about to close in mortal strife.
The Kid and the cousin of Henry had, as already shown, gone in the direction of the village, where, on arriving in due course, they found the inhabitants in a state of the greatest consternation. As in Port Colborne, here, also, was to be observed that spirit of disaffection towards the British Crown which led to the hoisting of the American flag over a public building at the former place, when it was ascertained that the Province had actually been invaded. As yet, the troops under Lieutenant Colonel Booker had not arrived, and as there was no opportunity for Smith to ply his vocation, that worthy, emulating the course pursued by his companion, rested quietly on his oars, until the cars arrived with the army that was to contest the field of Ridgeway with the soldiers of O’Neill.
On the arrival of this train, Smith, as we have already perceived, encountered Darcy, and had a conversation with him, the substance of which is already known to the reader, as well as his subsequent falling in with Wilson and Black Jack in the immediate rear of the Fenian forces. Before the British had proceeded from Ridgeway towards Chippewa, for the purpose of forming the junction with Colonel Peacock, the cousin of Evans had returned to Wilson’s with the intelligence that the command of Booker was about to move along the Sodom Road; upon which he was begged, by Henry, to start off and inform the widow, his mother, of the approaching storm, and assure her that he should not take up arms against the invaders, nor approach the scene of conflict, if the contending armies joined issue at any point in the neighborhood. These two young men, although born in Canada, were, yet, the sons of Irishmen, and felt that it would be criminal in them to raise their hand against the freedom of the land of their fathers, or in behalf of a government that had for centuries subjected it to every wrong and insult that could be heaped upon it. This they felt; and entered into a mutual compact to remain passive at least, should the tide of the conflict surge their way—hoping only for the success of the cause of poor, down-trodden Erin, without feeling themselves impelled to raise an arm in her defense against a body of men made up in part of their friends and acquaintances.
This was not genuine patriotism, we know; but, still, under the circumstances, it had its merits. In addition, it had enough of the real stuff about it to be capable of being shaped readily, under certain not unreasonable conditions, into a most useful and active element in the cause. Where a sentiment is not absolutely hostile, but on the contrary even imbued with some slight degree of friendliness, it is easily brought into line with the cause towards which it leans. And thus it is with a vast body of the people of Canada, who do not take any active part in the great question that now so agitates the Empire and shakes the tyrant England to her very foundations. They would like to see Ireland free; but they do not care to come into collision with the British authorities on the subject. Could they lend her a helping hand in secret and without detection, they would extend it cheerfully; but they have not the nerve or moral courage to give her three cheers in the market place. To this numerous class, these two young men belonged; and, singular as it may appear, we count on it for real support in the final struggle that must take place between us and England upon this continent, one day or other. We think, also, that in the hands and under the fostering care of the out-and-out Irish Nationalists of Canada, who are ready to mount the scaffold at any moment, this friendly element could be fostered into a great and irresistible power; for we have been always of the opinion, that nine-tenths of those who have even one, single drop of Irish blood in their veins, can, by judicious treatment, be developed into the deadliest enemies of our ancient and implacable foe. Let these people be educated in the history and the wrongs of Ireland, as well as the extent to which England is indebted to that unfortunate country for an that she now is. Let them take the Penal Laws for a text-book, and the murders and confiscations of Elizabeth, Cromwell and the Georges, for their “Reading Made Easy,” and no fear but they will soon fall into the ranks from which they now, alas! keep aloof. Let them dwell upon the ages of famine, fire and sword to which we have been subjected by a wretch who in the days of her gross darkness came begging to our door in her breeches of blue paint and asked us for an alphabet, while we were yet the day star of European civilization and Christianity, and then they will be enabled to justify in their own bosoms any act that would tend to her humiliation, and comprehend fully how bitter and eternal the enmity between us, and how just, whatever stroke should seal her doom at our hands.
Seek music in the wolf’s fierce howl,
Or pity In his Wood-shot eye,
When hanger drives him out to prowl
Beneath a rayless northern sky.
But seek not that we shall forgive
The hand that strikes as to the heart,
And yet in mock’ry bids us live
To count our stars as they depart.
We’ve fed the tyrant with our blood,—
Won all her battles!—built her throne!—
Established her on land and flood,
And sought her glory, next our own.
We raised her from her low estate
And plucked her pagan soul from hell.
And led her up to heaven’s own gate,
Till she for gold, like Judas, fell.
And when in one long soulless night
She lay unknown to wealth or fame.
We gave her empire—-riches—light,
And taught her how to spell her name.
But, now, ungenerous and unjust,
Forgetful of our old renown,
She bows us to the very dust,
But wears our jewels in her Crown!
This is the sentiment that fires the heart of every true son and daughter of Ireland; and all that is necessary to its general adoption on the part of those related to us by even the most distant ties of country, is the constant promulgation throughout the length and breadth of the New Dominion, etc., of sound information regarding the past and present of our native land, and the true history of English legislation affecting us.
Scarcely had the cousin of Evans disappeared from Wilson’s on his mission to the house of the widow, when the echoing woods in the vicinity of the place gave evidence of the meeting of the two hostile forces. The first discharge of the Fenian rifles, after Col. Starr had driven in the advance posts of the enemy, brought Kate to her feet, and kindled in her eye a flame so intense, while her white teeth glistened through her parted lips, that she seemed the very personification of female courage and patriotism. As she listened through her open casement, and caught the distant cheer of her countrymen, the wild music of which she thoroughly recognized, her bosom rose and fell with terrible emotion, while her delicate nostrils were distended in a sort of passionate ecstasy that might be termed the climax of the most sublime enthusiasm. Once more the Saxon and the Celt had joined in the death struggle; and she felt as though she herself ought to be in some way identified then and there with the conflict. Thoroughly appreciating the mighty issues at stake, she implored heaven, in language the most fervent, to crown with victory the standard of Ireland, and nerve the arm of O’Neill in this the hour of his need. And as the moments rolled by, and the tide of the contest ebbed and flowed upon her ear, her excitement became so intense, that she begged of Henry to venture out to some point where, without personal danger to himself, he might learn something of the actual state of the battle and the prospects of her gallant countrymen.
More than an hour had elapsed since the action began, when Evans sallied forth to gratify not only the wishes of his kinswoman, but to satisfy his own mind as to how affairs stood. He was armed with his revolver and dirk only; and felt, notwithstanding his former resolve, a strange inclination to use them on the side of Ireland. A cowardly shot, however, he could not fire; and as he knew nothing whatever of military tactics, he at once dismissed from his mind the idea of participating in the contest. Perceiving that the conflict did not verge towards his own dwelling, he was determined to keep his eye upon that which he had just left, and yet venture as near the field where the battle was raging as a brave man might. Once he retraced his steps to inform Kate that so far as he could perceive, both armies were holding their own; returning again to the edge of a patch of wood close by. Here he had remained for some time endeavoring to form an idea as to the probable issue of the struggle, and occasionally warned of the perilousness of his position by the rifle bullets that now and then sang around him, when suddenly the red cross of St. George was seen to waver, and the next moment the British lines were broken and scattered like chaff before the gallant O’Neill and the victorious charge of his brave handful of heroes.
The pulses of Evans beat quick with a sort of strange, wild joy, when he heard the shout of triumph which burst from the ranks of the Irish, as they swept like a whirlwind in the wake of their retreating foes, some of whom stood at bay but to be instantly overthrown by their pursuers. A desperate encounter between a knot of both forces took place quite near to where he stood concealed: and here, also, the enemy bit the dust; although at this precise point, they were not outnumbered. It was here that Barry and his comrades were ordered to look after the dead and wounded; the point being convenient to Wilson’s, and discernible from it, although a clump of trees shut out the house from Evans.
When Wilson saw that the day was lost, as quickly as possible, both he and his comrades, including Darcy and two or three others of a similar stamp, who joined them in the field, fled and took shelter in his house, unperceived by Evans or the victorious Irish. From this dwelling, as already described, they sallied forth in a murderous assault upon Nicholas and his party; with what success has been already seen. To account for Evan’s opportune appearance at the time of Barry’s being sorely pressed, we have only to observe, that he witnessed the attack without knowing the point from whence it proceeded, or recognizing the persons who made it; and only hastened to the scene of action when he perceived that the assailing party was masked and that Barry was being overwhelmed by unequal numbers. Having gained the point where the struggle was being carried on, the butt-end of his revolver placed Barry on an equal footing with his antagonists; although as already observed, the young soldier had previously inflicted a mortal wound upon the most important of his assailants.
Kate and Martha were eye-witnesses from their chamber window of the whole of this supplementary fight; the former little dreaming, that the officer attacked by the two ruffianly masks, was the man that was all the world to her. She perceived, however, that he belonged to the invading army, and such being the case, she viewed the contest with breathless anxiety; looking every moment for the fatal stroke that was to lay him low in the dust forever, until the sudden appearance of Henry on the spot, decided the day in his favor. The relief that she experienced was so unutterable that she burst into tears; and when a few moments subsequently, she learned from the lips of her kinsman himself that the Irish were every where victorious and the British forces totally routed and in full retreat upon Ridgeway, the intelligence was too much for her, and she swooned away into the arms of Martha, while an expression of ineffable joy overspread her beautiful face.
The death of Wilson was broken to his wife as feelingly as might be by Henry. For a moment the poor woman was paralysed, and then gave vent to a flood of tears of a character so strange, that we shall not pause to analyse it here. Her life had, indeed, been, for so far, a hard one, with him; and now that she had discovered his real character, she almost felt grateful to heaven for removing him from the world he was so dishonoring and the heart that he had already broken. Yet he had been her husband, and she remembered that she had loved him once; and here the woman was touched within her. The die was cast, however; and now it only devolved upon her to see his remains quietly consigned to their last resting place. She saw him where he lay, kissed his cold lips and wept afresh for all his long years of cruelty towards her; and then turned away to her lonely chamber to which the body was removed subsequently. Martha was horrified only at the slaughter that surrounded her; and had no place for grief in a bosom where affection for the husband of her aunt had never existed. All she saw before her was her beloved Henry, alive and safe after the conflict had ceased between the contending armies; while her heart thrilled with the purest delight on learning from her lover, that which she was as yet to keep secret, namely, that the officer who had been attacked by the two masks opposite the house, was the betrothed of Kate who had joined the invaders with the two-fold purpose of striking for the freedom of his native land, and unraveling, if possible, the mystery of her sudden disappearance from Buffalo.
When our hero presented himself before the gallant O’Neill, that distinguished soldier, who was already aware of the services rendered by Nicholas, complimented him on his bravery and informed him, that he should now fall back on Fort Erie with his remaining forces; fearing momently the approach not only of Peacock’s army but that of the numerous other bodies of men that were being concentrated against him from more than one quarter. Orders were therefore given to dispose as hastily as possible of the dead and wounded: some prisoners that were taken having been already paroled; among whom was the officer taken by Barry on the preceeding day.
When Kate opened her eyes to consciousness again, she found herself in arms other than those of Martha; and looking up in a state of startled amazement encountered the radiant face of Nicholas as he pressed her in ecstasy to his bosom. A cry of joy escaped her lips, as she clung to him with an embrace as wild as though she feared some adverse fate should again separate them; and a second time became unconscious. Soon, nevertheless, she was revived through restoratives used by Martha; but yet in a state so confused that she could scarcely bring herself to believe that all was real that was transpiring around her. By degrees, however, she became convinced that it was in reality her lover who enfolded her to his heart; and all was well. In due time, explanations were given, when it was determined that she should at once return with him to her friends in Buffalo, under the protection of the victorious army and in a vehicle that Henry volunteered to furnish for the occasion, and drive in person. The distance to the frontier was but short; and as Henry’s cousin had come up from the widow’s to learn the result of the battle, it was agreed that the one should remain in the house of death with Martha and her aunt until the return of the other from Fort Erie; and that, in the interim, he should collect such of the neighbors as were within reach, and have the body of Wilson and that of Darcy and the others interred as speedily as possible.
This once decided upon, Barry possessed himself of such papers and documents as were on the body of Darcy, hoping thereby, to gain some insight not only into the Chancery case, but into the intentions of the Government or their plans in relation to Fenianism. To him belonged of right any information of this character that could be realized from a dastardly foe who had been vanquished by his sword. But little, however, was gleaned from this source, beyond the fact gathered from a letter received by Darcy from his lawyer a short time previously, announcing that there was no hope of his winning the suit, as some private opinions expressed by those who composed the Court, went to convey the idea that the claims of Kate McCarthy were of a character not to be set aside or ignored even under the pressure of the Castle; and further, that the opposing counsel, who was a sterling lawyer and a man of influence, was pressing the matter so, that a decision favorable to his client could not fail to be given at no distant day.
This was, of course, cheering to our hero, although Darcy, just before his death, had placed him in possession of the contents of the epistle, and prepared him for the intelligence it contained. Kate received the information without evincing any great degree of excitement Her mind had been so perplexed and agitated for the last few days, that her sudden good fortune, in a pecuniary sense, seemed lost sight of in the other events that had already transpired, and her unexpected restoration to her lover. She was certainly surprised at the fate and the machinations of the pretended Lauder; and felt relieved by the conviction that the murderous and unprincipled wretch who had wrought her and Nicholas so much wrong and hardship, and who had attempted the assassination of her betrothed, and her own ruin, was no more. This was a great relief to her overburdened heart; as she now knew, that a man so desperate as he, were he still alive, might manage, even yet, to work them some further mischief.
Among the papers belonging to Darcy there was found a small memorandum book or diary, which, although a riddle to Barry, is worth noting here, as it contained some entries that may possibly find elucidation outside the recognition of our hero. One of them was as follows: “Toronto, April 20th, 1866—Paid to J.G. M—— $20, for information regarding Hib. Benev. Society.” And again: “April 23d—saw Hon. J. R——; willing to do all he can, but wants to be paid for it. Mean fellow, whose tenderest passion is absolutely scrofulous, they say.” The other entries related to mere travelling expenses, etc., and to some transactions which took place in Kingston and other points where Darcy had been conducting his operations in the interest of the English, as well as the Canadian government In addition to this, there was a draft for a considerable amount; but as it needed the signature of the deceased, it was regarded as valueless and permitted to remain in the pocket of the dead man—our hero, however it fared afterwards, feeling a singular repugnance to possessing himself of any property of this kind, or retaining a single shilling of the current funds found upon the corpse. These latter were subsequently devoted to defraying the burial expenses of the deceased, as well as those of his companions.
When matters were so far arranged as to permit of the departure of our hero and heroine, Henry was about to leave the premises with a view to procuring the vehicle that was to carry them to the frontier, when Wilson’s team, that was discovered by a neighbor in the place where it had been concealed, was driven up to the door. This was opportune, as Evans, on perceiving the horses and knowing that there was a light carriage under the shed, determined to put them into requisition at once. Soon, therefore, the three friends were bringing up the rear of O’Neill’s troops as the latter fell steadily back upon Fort Erie, with the intention, as before stated, of learning whether landings had been made at any other point, or whether there were the slightest hopes of reinforcements crossing the river from Buffalo.
Kate parted from Martha with a warm embrace, and an assurance of lasting friendship; while on her part, the betrothed of Evans promised to visit our hero and heroine in Buffalo at no distant day, and there renew the intimacy that had begun amid such clouds, although now surrounded with sunshine. On the departure of our little party, then, Barry’s wounded comrades being previously cared for under the instructions of O’Neill, the bodies of the four accomplices—Wilson, Darcy, Black Jack and the Kid—were interred with infinitely more decent observances than their career in life seemed to warrant. The scruples of Nicholas, however, regarding Darcy’s draft, were not shared by some of those who disposed of his remains; as it was taken charge of by an individual who fancied it might, one day, be turned to account by some person authorised to receive it. Of the mask who had escaped from the conflict opposite Wilson’s, we may have occasion to speak in some future volume; although Evans surmised him simply some villain who had joined Darcy or the Kid for the purposes of murder or plunder. Be this as it may, the fugitive had made good his escape, while their crimes.
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