Volume Ii Part 18 (1/2)

Two men belonging to the Ancient Britons approached the hut at midnight where this man lay, s.n.a.t.c.hed by a marvel from the jaws of Death.

'What!' one said, 'that Croppy living still?'

'Yes, your honour,' replied the sick wife, with meekness. 'The Lord has been pleased to grant the boy a longer day.'

'Come, come!' was the jocose retort. 'He'll be best out of misery, for he can't possibly recover. Leastways, his curing will be tedious to an ailing wife like you.' And the wretch pistolled him in cold blood then and there, while the frenzied widow shrieked for mercy, and the daughter strove to s.h.i.+eld him with her own body in the ecstasy of her despair.

This carnival on the Gibbet-Rath finally snuffed out Kildare; but Wexford, which was made of different materials, rose up to take her place. The men of Wexford belonged to another caste, had different hair and features, were of a fiercer nature than the Kelts. They rose with one accord, their blood stirred to fever-frenzy by the intelligence which drifted down to them. Kildare had disgraced the emerald flag; it should be the privilege of Wexford to retrieve its tarnished honour. They would set an example to pusillanimous counties that still hesitated about rising. War to the knife! no quarter given!

Such should be their watchword. Proudly let the green banner wave.

Victory or Death!

These raw but doughty warriors meant business. They set about establis.h.i.+ng themselves, therefore, in true military array; and in the first instance collected their strength into two detachments, the first of which, mustering three thousand men, encamped on Killthomas Hill, where three hundred of the yeomanry gave them battle and obtained a bloodless victory. Not quite bloodless though, for one Lieutenant Bookey lost his life, and his indignant comrades offered to his manes (after a ma.s.sacre on Killthomas Hill which was only business) the sacrifice of several Popish chapels and at least a hundred Catholic dwellings on their next day's march. This had the auspicious effect of infuriating to delirium the second and greater camp, whose leading spirits saw that, for them and theirs, their motto was but too prophetic a one. Unless they were prepared to see their faith stamped out, there was clearly nothing for the men of Wexford but Death or Victory.

Like desperate men as they were, they set about accomplis.h.i.+ng the latter straightway. On the rising ground of Oulart, distant eight miles from Wexford town, they rallied round the green at least four thousand strong. With proud defiance and undaunted mien they beheld the enemy's approach--red coats dimmed by dust and mist, and bayonets glimmering. They awaited the onset with stern determination, and--fled helter-skelter on the first attack. The yeomanry pursued with shouts and jeers, following fast over rock and boulder, sweeping the rebels before them as a broom sweeps chaff. But, arrived at the summit of the hill, a hint came to the insurgents that cavalry lay in ambush on the other side to intercept their flight. Cavalry! To their untutored minds a charge of hors.e.m.e.n meant instant annihilation, whilst they were quite resolved to live--for Victory. They rallied, turned on the disordered and breathless pursuers, and charging downward with their pikes, bore all before them. Taken by surprise, out of breath, disorganised, none of the quondam pursuers survived to tell of their defeat, save the lieutenant-colonel, a sergeant, and three privates.

Many of the rebels succ.u.mbed, but what mattered that? Those who remained alive were masters of the situation. Theirs was the prestige of having beaten the royalist soldiers in the open field. Numbers had vanquished discipline; ignorance had made science of none effect; the spirits of the enemy were lowered in proportion to their own triumph.

Hosts of peasants, lukewarm hitherto through fear, flocked to join the victors. Mustering now quite four thousand strong, and burning to add new leaves of laurel to their chaplet, they marched with childish gesture, intoning as they marched the 'Ma.r.s.eillaise,' to storm the town of Enniscorthy.

Those who led them saw that if the G.o.d of battles would continue to favour them, their condition might be greatly improved, even to the point of rendering their unwieldy host truly formidable. The capture of Enniscorthy would aid the insurgents much, for that place (twelve miles or so from Wexford) is bisected by the Slaney, whose ebb and flow permits vessels of light tonnage to approach the bridge which unites the two portions of the town. Hence it was certain to be well stocked with useful things, lying there for transmission up the country. It might contain ammunition too--a precious find indeed--for the Wexford men were good shots with a gun, accustomed to earn a modest wage by shooting waterfowl for the markets of Dublin and of Cork, in consequence of which they had obtained exemption from the more vexatious clauses of the Gunpowder Act. If Enniscorthy should fall into their hands they would find themselves provided, too, with a splendid camping-ground called Vinegar Hill, which rose adjacent to the city. At their leisure they might take s.h.i.+p, and, sailing down the Slaney, seize the town of Wexford--a seaport with a magnificent harbour. What a pity the French had been so unfortunate! How gladly they would have welcomed the tricolour as it glided through the narrow entrance which admits into that glorious anchorage!

Certain intelligence arrived at Enniscorthy that it would be attacked on the 28th at midday. The drums beat to arms; the garrison took their posts. The North Cork Militia occupied the bridge; cavalry were posted in the leading street; a detachment of yeomanry occupied an elevation three or four hundred yards in front of the chief gate. On perceiving the latter, the insurgent column halted and deployed, extending largely to the right and left, to outflank the small band before them, and cut it off from the town. Then they moved forward, driving cattle in advance of them, opening at the same time a well-directed fire. The yeomanry, perceiving their tactics, retired within the walls, covered by a charge of cavalry which, whilst dispersing a band that was pressing them too closely, came itself to tribulation by reason of the cattle. A second body, with a second lot of kine, made for a gate to westward, which was protected by a tributary stream. The ford had previously been deepened, and was considered dangerous enough to act as its own defence. A gigantic priest, who wore a broad crossbelt and a dragoon's sabre swinging, was equal to the occasion:

'Drive in the cattle, boys, and swarm over their backs!'

No sooner said than done. Goaded by pikes the animals rushed headlong into the gulf, and the rebels, crossing the palpitating bridge, crept unperceived into the town, which was by this time a ma.s.s of flame. The disaffected inhabitants picked off the soldiery from their windows; fired their own houses to burn them out when the royalists sought protection there; dragged away frieze-coated bodies, that the carnage might not discourage the survivors; while women and young girls, in the heroism born of excitement, ran hither and thither among the bullets, administering new courage in the welcome shape of whisky. The streets were so involved in smoke that the yeomen could not perceive the rebels till they felt their pikes within their flesh. The whirling flame flared in such a sheet as to unite in a seething arch over their heads--singeing the bearskin of their caps, scorching their very hair and eyelashes. After a conflict wherein for three hours each inch was savagely disputed, the loyalists found themselves pushed backwards into the central square. 'Victory!' hallooed the insurgents--just a little bit too soon. A heavy discharge from the market-house made them waver. Profiting by their recoil, cavalry and infantry rallied. Their discipline stood them in good stead at the turning of the tide. They dashed forward; drove the huge wave in a vast roll before them, which ebbed across the bridge, down the straight street, away out of the town--a turbulent maelstrom of discomfited fugitives. Though the rebels were for the time repulsed, it was certain that they would return again on the morrow and sweep the place clean by sheer weight of numbers. The little garrison was weakened by half its strength. The loyalists, unwitting of the insidious purpose of Lord Clare, loudly blamed the executive for leaving so inadequate a force to battle with so immense a mob. It was a pernicious want of forethought which would cost many lives. A strong force of regulars, they complained, and this Hurry would be over in two days at most. Guileless loyalists of Enniscorthy! After all the labour of incubation, it was not fitting that the trouble should be too brief. The chancellor's twitter of conscience was past, and his hand was steady on the plough again, to force it through roots and stones. The iron, being drawn, might not be sheathed again before it had cut into the writhing soul of Erin ineffaceably. She must remember the Hurry to the end of her existence, as an awful sample of the terrors which would fall even yet more heavily upon her if she should dare again to rouse the wrath of her elder sister. Consistently, therefore, till the lesson was complete, two hundred regulars or so were always expected to cope with two thousand rebels; and, even with those odds against them, the former, more frequently than not, obtained the upper hand. In the present instance, however, it was not so; for it was clear that the loyalists must desert the town or be killed to a man. In the mid-hour of night, lighted by the afterglow of conflagration, they retreated without warning to Wexford--a melancholy train; bearing their women and their wounded on their horses; leaving infants by the wayside, while the aged sank down from weariness and were abandoned to the tender mercies of the mob.

On the 1st of June the great camping-ground hard-by Enniscorthy presented a strange picture, occupied as it had then become by an armed host of ten thousand men, independent of a grand array of camp-followers, suttlers, women and children, who flocked in from all quarters to applaud the defenders of their hearths. From a military point of view, Vinegar Hill is strong. High grounds are crowned by a cone of bold ascent, capped by a ruined mill, while the cultivated fields beneath are divided into small enclosures, intersected by stone walls and trenches. For defence by irregular troops who trusted rather to numbers than to skill, such a position was particularly favourable; for the enclosures afforded safe cover for skirmishers, who could watch the approach of an enemy whilst they remained themselves unseen.

The appearance of the singular mushroom-bed which speedily sprouted up was extremely picturesque, in keeping with the wildness of guerilla warfare. Tents of the Donnybrook pattern rose on all sides. Vinegar Hill was intended to become a temporary home; for the chiefs were resolved that this should be the centre of their operations until such time as they could be masters of the Castle. Long avenues of bent wattles like straggling caterpillars of every hue crawled up the slope, covered with the spoils of Enniscorthy--patchwork-quilts, sheets, ripped sacks, rugs, blankets. At intervals a smaller edifice, crowned by an old brush and swinging lantern, invited to a temporary shebeen. If an old pot dangled too, it was a sign that food might also be procured there; though, the weather being warm, the soup-caldrons were usually placed without, that all the ragged host might lick their lips over the good things which tumbled into them for a ragout. Nor were the more aesthetic pleasures of the eye and ear neglected. The organ of Enniscorthy church and its peal of bells were brought thither in state for some one or other to jangle upon night and day; whilst as for flags, the camp was alive with them, of every colour except orange, bearing each a rude harp without a crown. One, conspicuous above the rest, was black, with the cognisance M. W. S. in white; and this the loyalists in their charity chose to unriddle as 'Murder without sin,' whereas its real meaning was 'Marksmen of Wexford and of Shelmalier.' Among the throng might be observed men in the King's uniform--bright spots in the ma.s.s of brown. Such soldier prisoners as the crew had taken were treated well and guarded with care, for they were of the greatest value as drill-sergeants, and might be seen day and night plodding up and down with awkward squads, into whom they were striving to instil the first germs of military science. What an unmanageable mob it was! swelling hourly through the constant influx of recruits, not one of whom possessed the faintest idea of discipline; each one of whom had a predilection for poteen and a dim suspicion of the incompetence of his leaders. It was at this juncture that the weak, well-intentioned country gentlemen, who had striven to occupy the empty shoes of their imprisoned betters, were swept into the shade by the unscrupulous influence of the lower clergy--uncultured, ferocious creatures, whose worst pa.s.sions were aroused by the burning of their chapels, the desecration of their altars; men who scrupled not to play upon the vulgar superst.i.tion of a half-savage mult.i.tude for the gaining of a cherished end. They became hideous tyrants--such men as the priests of Tallat and of Boulovogue; merciless as their persecutors had been without mercy. Inflamed by wrong and intoxicated by a little brief authority, they were guilty of enormities which, at a quieter moment, they would themselves have surveyed with horror. The higher Catholic clergy withstood the force of the current, and, resisting temptation, publicly disapproved and deplored their acts; yet who (looking on the picture calmly at this distance of time) will throw the first stone at them? The mult.i.tude had, with deliberate art, been stung to madness. The bad pa.s.sions of their teachers had been stirred in their most vital place. If the people were as ignorant as their own cattle, who was accountable for it? England, through the cruel enactments of centuries. If the members of the inferior priesthood were debased and wicked, who made them so?

England, by persecuting them without ceasing, by forbidding their minds to be illumined by education--England, by her accursed Penal Code.

The original champions being caged, three Catholic priests. Fathers Murphy, Kearnes, and Roche, overturning established authority, a.s.sumed the conduct of affairs, and set about the organising of their army.

What had been hitherto a conflict of cla.s.ses tinged with a religious bias, became now a purely religious crusade, accompanied by all the crimes which, through the history of the world, have been intimately a.s.sociated with religion. What an inscrutable vision it is--that of the stately Spirit walking through earth's story, her fair features distorted, her white robes edged with blood, her pure skirts soiled by the vilest lees of the human heart--_always!_

The new leaders divided their host into three divisions, with each a special mission. The first, under Father Kearnes, was to possess itself of Newtown Barry. This expedition proved abortive. The second, under Father Roche (which, owing to lack of s.p.a.ce on Vinegar Hill, was encamped at Carrickbyrne with an outpost at Scullabogue), was to attack New Ross, then, proceeding northward, was to join the third body in a grand attempt on Dublin. This plan was plausible enough, for Gorey, Arklow, and Wicklow were weakly garrisoned, and, should those citadels give way, the road to the capital lay open--undefended. Perry of Inch and Father Murphy (who commanded the third division) were mighty men of valour. The latter swore by the Holy Mother that he was invulnerable, carrying bullets in his pockets to prove the miracle.

Chances seemed fairly in favour of success. The garrison of Gorey, for instance, numbered but a hundred and thirty men. What could they hope to do--disciplined though they were--against a rabble of six thousand?

They did what was wisest under the circ.u.mstances; called temerity to their aid, and essayed to brazen out the difficulty of their position.

Instead of waiting to be attacked, they rushed out upon the road, raising such clouds of summer dust that the advancing rebels, supposing reinforcements to have arrived, turned and fled in terror.

The advanced guard of the insurgents slinking off, had taken the courage from the rest. Each man vied with his neighbour in the race, and the Irish peasant is wondrous fleet of foot.

Father Kearnes' detachment met with more grave misfortune than this merely temporary rout. The simultaneous attempt upon New Ross (nineteen miles from Wexford) was the hardest-fought day of the entire Hurry--one, too, which will be darkened through all time by the memory of a deplorable outrage. The object in gaining possession of New Ross was the same as had induced the taking of Enniscorthy. For as the one stood on the Slaney, with water-access to Wexford Harbour, so did the other command water also, standing as it did upon the Nore and Barrow, within similar distance of the important port of Waterford. New Ross, too, was placed on the very border of Kilkenny. All the disaffected in that county were expected to join the insurgents in a united gigantic effort to win so fine a jewel; for, as soon as it was captured, nothing would have been easier than to drop down to Waterford, which loved not the Castle joss; which was weakly garrisoned, and tempting to boot in the way of plunder. But this well-balanced scheme was frustrated and made of no effect by the G.o.d of war's ill-temper. Sure he's as fickle and as false as Fortune is--that arrant f.e.c.kless jade!

And has not her excuse neither--being a man, who, by reason of his s.e.x, should be above lowering his dignity by feminine whimsies. On this 5th of June he got out of bed on the wrong side (in consequence of being called so early maybe), and the plan against New Ross miscarried. At 3 a.m. Bagenal Harvey, who commanded in conjunction with Father Roche, despatched a flag of truce, imploring the garrison not to provoke rapine by useless resistance. He bade them look up at the heights which commanded the town, and count the myriads whose frieze turned the landscape dun. For the good of all 'twere better to surrender at once, rather than uselessly to sacrifice precious life. A letter worthy of the kindly soft-hearted gentleman who wrote it.

The flag of truce was slain. His name was Furlong, a popular man. The insurgents, watching from above, beheld him lying p.r.o.ne--shot through the heart by an outpost sentinel. With fury they upbraided Harvey as an old dame for his ill-timed courtesy, vowing that they would obey no one but the priest that day. Maddened by the sight of that single corpse lying far below upon its face, they poured with the overwhelming impulse of a destroying flood unexpectedly set free down the steep declivity--an avenging awful host, numbering twenty thousand--and battered in the Three-bullet Gate. If the huge force could have been divided by scientific skill, an attack might have been made on the three gates at once, and every loyalist would have miserably perished. But even the priest was powerless to cope with the boiling throng. Yelling and screaming, by mere weight they drove in the pickets; cavalry went down like barley; nothing could withstand the avalanche. In vain the princ.i.p.al thoroughfare of New Ross was swept by the steady fire of artillery, which, falling on a dense ma.s.s of men wedged tight together in a narrow street, sh.o.r.e down the column's head as often as it rose. The legend of the dragon's teeth was realised that day; as fast as row drooped over row, so did other rows spring up, propelled by a giant force behind. One fanatic pushed to the gun's very muzzle, and, plunging in his hat and wig, cried, 'Come on, boys! her mouth's stopped!' The next moment he was blown into the air, but the gun was trodden down, dismounted--rendered useless; and the yeomanry retired under shelter. If the Croppies had obeyed their priest, all would have gone well. But much as they adored their Church, much as they longed for beatific rest in Paradise, they at this moment loved mundane whisky more. They plundered the houses of meat and drink, broached barrels in the market-place, poured fiery rivers of consolation down their parched gullets. In vain Mr. Harvey begged them to desist; in vain Father Roche threatened them with purgatorial ills. They snapped their fingers at their G.o.d and at His minister. Had they not already suffered h.e.l.l? Well, then, they were used to it. Its terrors had ceased to fill their souls with dread.

The royalist commandant was amazed at what he saw. It was a Pandemonium--but one whose horrors were evanescent. He only had to wait under his shelter. One little hour of drunken madness such as this, and the day would be his after all, in spite of apparently adverse destiny. The insurgents thought no more of a foe who had only retired out of sight down a by-street. They laughed and sang, and danced, and whirled in idiot frenzy; then fell into the gutter--drunk!

By three in the afternoon such of the mob as could totter were hunted out of the town--those who remained were handed over to the tormentor.

In the alleys and byways bodies choked the path three deep; two thousand more were borne away on carts. New Ross remained to his Majesty King George; but the terrors of the black 5th of June were not yet over. The gates were closed on the expulsion of the rabblement so quickly that many stragglers among the royalists were left without to batter on the wood in vain. The wounded amongst them were mercilessly piked, unless by a Romanist s.h.i.+bboleth they could 'bless themselves.'