CHAPTER IX
James Hope kept his promise. About noon the next day he came to the innand found Neal waiting for him impatiently.
"We are going," he said, "to James Finlay's house. Before we start Ithink I ought to tell you that in any case you could not stay here anylonger. I saw this morning a proclamation offering a reward of fiftypounds for your capture, and I have no doubt that Finlay will earn it ifhe can, even if the soldier you mauled does not trace you here."
"I am ready," said Neal.
"You are not afraid? I see you are not, and we are not going to run intoany unnecessary danger. Finlay will not betray you at once. He will notrun out and call soldiers to take you the moment he sees you. He has adeeper plan. He has arranged that a meeting of our leaders will be heldin Aeneas Moylin's house to-morrow night. He is to be there himself, andhe has received assurance that most of our chief men will be there. Wehave little doubt that he has given information about the meeting, andmade his arrangements for capturing us all. We shall tell him that youare to be there, too. Then he will not want to risk exposing himselfby betraying you at once. He will wait for you till to-morrow. But whento-morrow comes he will not find our leaders at Donegore. I have notasked, and I do not wish to know, what he will find when he gets there."
"I understand," said Neal. "When we meet I am to pretend that I trusthim thoroughly."
Hope smiled.
"You are a good soldier. You are prepared to obey, and you do not asktoo many questions. But I am going to trust you fully, and tell youwhy we are going to Finlay's house to-day. Some time ago we stored somecases of ball cartridges there. They are in a cellar, and I have nodoubt that Major Fox knows all about them, and thinks them as safe asif they were in the munition room of the barrack. You and I are going tocarry off those cases. We want the cartridges badly, and we cannot waitfor them. We shall be using them, I hope, the day after to-morrow, andif we leave them there till Finlay goes to Donegore to-morrow evening Ifear they may be seized by the soldiers. We must take them at once, andit seems to me that our best chance will be to walk off with them inbroad daylight without an attempt at concealment. We shall bring themhere."
"How many cases are there?" asked Neal.
"Eight," said Hope. "We must manage to carry four each, but the distanceis not very great."
Neal drew a deep breath of relief when he reached the street. Anyservice, however dangerous, any form of activity in the open air, was ajoy to him after his long confinement in the house.
The streets, as he and Hope passed through them, were full of soldiers.Companies of yeomen marched and countermarched in indifferent orderthrough every thoroughfare. Pickets of regulars, their bayonets fixed,stood at the street corners and in front of the principal buildings.Troops of dragoons, rattling and jingling, trotted briskly in onedirection or another. Orderlies cantered their horses from place toplace. Business in the town was almost suspended. Many of the shopswere shut. Grave citizens, engaged in pressing affairs, hurried, withdowncast eyes, along the causeways, seldom stopping to speak to eachother, greeting acquaintances with hasty nods. Women of the better sort,if they ventured out at all, walked quickly, heavily cloaked and veiled.The trollops and street walkers of a garrison town emerged fromtheir lairs even at midday, and stood in little groups at the cornersexchanging jests with the soldiers on picket duty, or shouted ribaldriesto the yeomen and dragoons who passed them. Idle maid servants, sluttishand dishevelled, leaned far out of the upper windows of the housesto gaze at the pageant beneath them. In the High Street a crowd ofloafers--coarse women and soldiers off duty--was gathered in front ofan iron triangle where, it was understood, some prisoners were to beflogged. Town, Major Fox, Major Barber, and some other officers inuniform, strolled up and down in front of the Exchange, rudely jostlingsuch merchants as ventured to enter or leave the building.
James Hope walked slowly through the streets, chatting cheerfullyto Neal as he went. Now and then he even stopped to watch a troop ofdragoons go by or to gaze at the uniforms of the soldiers who stood onguard. In crowded places he waited quietly until he saw a way of passingon without pushing or attracting attention to his movements. The trialwas a severe one for Neal's nerves. It was hard to pose as a curioussightseer within a few feet of men who could have earned fifty pounds byarresting him.
At last, after many pauses, and what seemed an interminable walk, Hopestopped at the door of a respectable looking house and knocked. A womanhalf opened the door and eyed them suspiciously. Then, recognisinga whispered pass-word of some sort from Hope, she admitted them andushered them into a room on the ground floor. James Finlay sat at atable with writing materials spread before him. He started slightly whenhe saw Neal, but recovered himself instantly. He came forward, shookhands with Hope, and then said to Neal--
"You and I know each other, Mr. Ward. I trust your father is in goodhealth, and that all is well at Dunseveric?"
Neal, though he had schooled himself beforehand to greet Finlaycordially, shrank back. He felt a violent loathing for the man. Itbecame physically impossible for him to take Finlay's hand in his, tospeak smooth words to this hypocrite who inquired of the good health ofthe very people he had betrayed. Hope saw the hesitation and tried tocover it with a casual remark. Finlay also saw it and misinterpreted it.
"I hope," he said, "that you do not bear me any malice on account of thelittle trouble there was between us long ago in the north. You ought toforgive and forget, Mr. Ward. We are both workers in the same cause now.At least, I suppose you are a United Irishman like your father or youwouldn't come here with James Hope to-day."
"Neal Ward," said Hope, "is going to the meeting at Donegore to-morrowevening."
Neal recovered himself and held out his hand to Finlay.
There was another knock at the door of the house. Finlay startedviolently and ran to the window.
"It's all right," he said, "it's only a lad I keep employed. I senthim out an hour ago to find out what was going on in the streets and tobring me word."
He returned to Hope with a smile on his face, but he had grown verywhite, and his hands were trembling slightly. A boy burst into the room,followed by the woman who had opened the door for Hope and Neal.
"Master," he cried, "they've brought out Kelso into the High Street. Thesoldiers are dragging him along. They are going to flog him."
The boy's eyes were wide with excitement. Having delivered his message,he turned and fled. A flogging was too great a treat for Finlay's boyto miss. The woman, without staying to don hat or shawl, went after him.Finlay called to her to stay. She shouted her answer from the threshold.
"Do you think I'm daft to be sitting my lone in your kitchen and themflogging a clever young man in the next street?"
Then the hall-door slammed. Finlay turned to Hope. He was whiter thanever, and his whole body shook as if with an ague.
"Kelso will tell," he said. "Kelso knows, and they'll flog the secretout of him. He'll tell, I know he will. He must tell; no man could helpit."
If Finlay was pretending to be terrified he acted marvellously well. Itseemed to Neal that he really was afraid of something, perhaps of somesudden betrayal of his treachery, of vengeance taken speedily by Hope.
"What ails you?" said Hope. "You needn't be frightened."
"The cartridges, the cartridges," wailed Finlay. "Kelso knows they arehere."
"If that's all," said Hope, "Neal Ward and I will ease you of them. Wecame here to take them away."
"You can't, you can't, you mustn't. They'd hang you on the nearest lampiron if they saw you with the cartridges."
There was a bang on the door and a moment later a knocking on the windowof the room, and then a woman's fate was pressed against the glass. Hopesprang across the room and flung open the window. The servant woman whohad gone to see the flogging pushed her head into the room and said--
"They're taking down Kelso, and he's telling all he knows. Major Barberand the soldiers are getting ready to march. It's down here they'll beco
ming."
"It's time for us to be off, then," said Hope.
"Come along, Neal, down to the cellar, and let us get the cartridges."
James Finlay followed them downstairs, begging them not to attempt tocarry off the cartridges. He held Hope by the arm as he spoke.
"Don't do it," he said, "for God's sake don't do it. The soldiers arecoming. They will be here in a minute. They will meet you. They willhang you. I know they will hang you. Oh! for God's sake go away at oncewhile you have time. Leave the cartridges."
Hope shook off the grip on his arm with a gesture of impatience. Hepushed open the cellar door.
"Now, Neal," he said, "pick up as many of the cases as you think you cancarry."
James Finlay turned from Hope and seized Neal by the hands. The man wastrembling from head to foot; his face was deadly white; the sweat wastrickling down his cheeks in little streams.
"Don't let him. Oh! don't let him. He won't listen to me. Stop him. Makehim fly."
He fell on his knees on the floor and clasped Neal's legs. He grovelled.There was no possibility of doubting the reality of his emotion. Thiswas not acting. The terror was genuine. James Finlay was desperatelyfrightened.
"Get out of my way. No one is going to hurt you in any case."
"It's not that," he said. "Believe me if you can. Believe me as you hopeto be saved. I can't, I won't see _him_ hanged. I can't bear it."
He was speaking the literal truth. He believed that James Hope would becaught and would then and there be hanged. Finlay had betrayed many men,had earned the basest wages a man can earn--the wages of a spy. He knewthat his victims went to flogging and death, but he never watched themflogged, he never saw them die. He even bargained never to stand in awitness box. The results, the inevitable issues of his betrayals, werenever immediately before his eyes. Between him and the punishment ofhis victims there was always some space of time spent in prison, someappearance of a legal trial, some pretence of a just judgment. He wasable, with that strange power of self-deception which most men possess,to conceal from himself that it was his information which led to thebrutalities which followed it. If James Finlay had been obliged himselfto execute the men whose execution his testimony secured; if he had beenforced to lay the lash on quivering flesh or fit the noose round thenecks of living men; it is likely that no bribe would have bought him,that sheer cowardice and an instinctive horror of death and pain wouldhave saved him, as no consideration of honour and truth did, from theextreme baseness of an informer's trade. Here lay part of the meaningof his terrified desire for Hope's escape. He could not bear to see menhanged before the door of his own house, or hear with his ears theirshrieks under the lash.
But there was more behind this feeling than utter cowardice. He knewJames Hope, knew him intimately, though he had known him only for ashort time. Like Neal Ward he had walked with Hope along the roads andlanes of County Antrim, had heard him talking, had seen--as no man, eventhe basest, could fail to see--the wonderful purity and unselfishnessof Hope's character. James Finlay had sold his own honour, but thereremained this much good in him, he refused to sell Hope's life. God,reckoning all the evil and baseness of James Finlay's treachery andgreed, will no doubt set on the other side of the account the fact thateven Finlay recognised high goodness when he saw it, that he did notbetray Hope, that he grovelled on the floor before a man whom he hatedfor the chance of saving Hope from what seemed certain death.
Neal pushed Finlay aside and stepped forward. He took five of the casesof cartridges--three under his right arm two under his left. Hope raisedthe other three. Then, picking up a bundle from a corner, he said--
"There is more gear here, which we may as well take with us. There isa green jacket which some of our young fellows may like to wear, and aflag; we ought to have a flag to fight under."
They turned to leave the house. Neal cast one glance behind him and sawFinlay lying curled up on the ground, his face covered with his hands,as if he were already trying to shut away from his eyes the sight ofHope's body dangling from a lamp iron.
Reaching the street, Hope stood for a moment and glanced up and downit. A party of soldiers was marching towards them. Hope looked at themcarefully.
"These are not the men whom the woman warned us of. Major Barber, if hewere coming here from High Street, would be marching the opposite way.This is some company of yeomen."
A band played at the head of the approaching company, and the menstepped out briskly to the tune of "Croppies Lie Down." Their uniformswere gay, their arms and accoutrements in good order, the officer incommand was well mounted; a crowd of idle young men and some women werewalking beside and behind the soldiers, attracted by the music and theunusually smart appearance of the men.
"I know these," said Hope, "they are the County Down Yeomanry. Theyhave just marched in, and are no doubt going to report themselves. Come,Neal, this is our chance."
He joined the crowd which walked with the soldiers. Neal followed himclosely. Hope, as if feeling the weight of the boxes he carried, walkedslowly until he found himself in that part of the crowd which followedthe regiment. Then, pushing forward briskly, he and Neal came closebehind the last soldiers. The ranks were not well kept, nor the marchorderly. Hope made his way forward until he and Neal were walkingamongst the yeomen. As they swung out of the street they were met byanother body of troops.
"These are regulars," whispered Hope, "and Major Barber is in command ofthem. That is he."
The two bodies of troops halted. There was a brief conversation betweentheir commanding officers. Then an order was given. The yeomen, theirband playing briskly again, marched on. Hope and Neal, now in the verymiddle of the ranks, marched with them. The royal troops presented armsas they passed. Major Barber watched them critically.
"It's a pity these volunteers won't learn their drill," he said to ayoung officer beside him. "Look at that for marching. The ranks are asragged as the shirt of the fellow we've just been flogging; but they'refine men and well armed. By Jove, they have two country fellows withthem carrying spare ammunition. I'll bet you a bottle of claret thereare cartridges in those cases."
He pointed to Hope and Neal.
"Ought to have a baggage waggon," said the officer, "or ought to put thefellows into uniform. They might be damned rebels for all any one couldtell by looking at them."
"I'd expect to meet a rebel pretty near anywhere," said Major Barber,"but, by God, I would not expect to find one marching in the middle of acompany of yeomen."
The yeomen passed and the infantry marched again towards Finlay's house.Hope turned to Neal. Laughter was dancing in his eyes, but, except forhis eyes, his face was grave.
"Now," he whispered, "we've got to slip out of the ranks and make ourway into North Street."
As he spoke he lurched against the yeoman next to him and allowed thebundle he carried to slip from his arm. The soldier cursed him for aclumsy drunkard. Hope, in return, abused the soldier for knocking theparcel out of his arms, and then called to Neal--
"Wait for me, mate, wait till I gather up my goods again."
He deposited his cartridge cases on the ground, went after the bundlewhich had rolled into the gutter, and then, arranging his load slowly,allowed the yeomen to march past.
"Did you hear Major Barber say that he'd be ready to bet that thesecases held cartridges? A sharp man, Major Barber! But there are more menthan him about with eyes in their heads. The next officer we meet willbe wanting to know where we are taking the cartridges. We won't haveanother company of yeomen to vouch for our characters. I think, Neal,we'd better get something to cover these up. There's a man here incharge of a carman's yard who is sure to have a couple of sacks whichwill suit us very well."
He passed under an archway, followed by Neal, and entered a small yard.
"Charlie," he cried, "are you there, Charlie?"
A young man emerged from one of the stables. He started at the sight ofHope.
"Are you mad, Jemmy Hope?" he said. "Are you m
ad, that you come here,and every stable full of dragoons' horses? They have them billeted onus, curse them, and the villains are in the coachhouse polishing theirbits and stirrup irons. Hark to them."
"I hear them," said Hope. "Get me two of your oat sacks, Charlie, goodstrong ones. I have goods here that want protecting from the sunlight."
The man cast a swift glance round, ran to one of the stables, andfetched the sacks.
"Now, Neal, pack up, pack up."
He pushed his own cases into one of the sacks. Neal followed hisexample.
"It won't do," said Hope, "the sacks don't look natural. There are toomany sharp corners bulging out. Charlie, lad, fetch us some straw--agood armful."
While they were stuffing the sacks with the straw one of the dragoonsswaggered across the yard. He stood watching Hope and Neal for a minuteor two, and then said.
"What have you there that you're so mighty careful of?"
"Whisht, man, whisht," said Hope, "it's not safe to be talking of what'shere."
He winked at the soldier as he spoke--a sly, humorous wink--a wink whichhinted at a good joke to come. The dragoon, a fat, good-natured man',grinned in reply.
"I won't split on you, you young thieves. I've taken my share of lootbefore this, and I expect some pickings out of the croppies' housesbefore I've done. I won't cry halvers on you. What's yours is yours. Buttell us what it is."
"It's cases of cartridges," said Hope, winking again. "We're taking themto the general in command of the rebel army, so don't be interferingwith us or maybe they'll hold a courtmartial on you."
The fat dragoon laughed. The idea of packing up ammunition for thecroppies in the temporary barrack of a squadron of dragoons, and usingHis Majesty's straw to stuff the sacks, appealed to him as extremelycomic. Hope and Neal shouldered their bundles and left the yard.
"I'm afraid," said Hope, "that we can't store these in Matier's house.When Barber learns that the cases are gone he'll search high and low forthem, and Matier's will be just one of the places he'll look sooner orlater. Are you good for a tramp, Neal, with that load on your back?"
"Yes," said Neal, "I'll carry mine for miles if you like."
"Then," said Hope-, "we'll just look in at Matier's as we pass, and ifthe coast's clear I'll leave word where we're going. I know a snug placeon the side of the Cave Hill where we can lie for the night. To-morrowyou can join your uncle at Donegore."
There were no soldiers round the inn when they reached it. Felix Matierand Donald Ward were both out. Hope left his message with Peg Macllrea,who was sanding the parlour.
"So you're going to sleep out the night on the Cave Hill?" she said toNeal. "That'll be queer and good for your clouted head I'm thinkin'."
"It'll do my head no harm," said Neal. "You know well enough, Peg, thatthere never was much the matter with it."
They shouldered their loads again, walked up the street, and then,quickening their pace, tramped along the Shore Road for about threemiles.
"Now," said Hope, "turn to the left up that loaning, and we'll strikefor the hill."
They crossed the fields round the homesteads which lay between the hilland the road, reached uncultivated and stony ground, and then commencedtheir climb. Neal was strong, active, and accustomed to fatigue, but hebegan to feel the weight of his sack of cartridge cases before he hadclimbed five hundred feet. When Hope bade him halt he was glad enough tolie panting on the springy heather.
"We're safe now," said Hope, "but we've got further to go before night.We must make the place I named so that the men will be able to find meand the cartridges to-morrow morn."
Neal, ashamed of his weariness, bade Hope lead on.
"I might have trysted with them for Mac Art's Fort," said Hope. "It wasthere that Neilson and Tone and M'Cracken swore the oath. That wouldhave been a brave romantic spot for you and me to spend the night. Wemight have thought of great things there with the stars over us andnothing else between us and God's heaven. But it's a draughty place,lad." The laughter came into his eyes as he spoke. "A draughty place anda stony, like Luz, where Jacob lay, and maybe the angels wouldn't comenear the likes of us. The place I have in my mind is warmer."
They reached it at last--a little heathery hollow, lying under theshelter of great rocks.
"You might sleep in a worse place, Neal. It was here that Wolfe Tone andthe men I told you of dined three years ago--and a merry day they hadof it. I could wish we had a few of the scraps they left. It's cold worksleeping in the open on an empty stomach, but we must just cheer eachother with Tone's byword--
"''Tis but in vain For soldiers to complain.'"
Neal, lying full length on the heather in the warmth of the afternoonsun, dropped off to sleep. He had undergone severe physical exertion,which told on him. He had been through an hour and more of greatexcitement, which exhausted him far more than the exertion. When he wokethe sun had sunk behind the hill, and the air was pleasantly cool. Hopesat beside him, gazing out across the Lough and the town which lay belowthem.
"I've been thinking, Neal, of that man Finlay. He was frightened to-daywhen we were in his house. Now what had he to be frightened about?"
"I don't know," said Neal, "but I agree with you. The man certainlywasn't play-acting. He was in real fear."
"I think," said Hope, "that he was afraid the soldiers would take us andhang us."
"But," said Neal, "why should he fear that when he has betrayed us?"
"The human heart," said Hope, after a pause, "is a strange thing. TheBook tells us that no man is altogether good; no, not one, and that'strue. Never was a truer word. We try, lad, we try, and the grace of Godworks in us, but there remains the old leaven of evil; ay, it's there,even in the heart of a saint. Now, it isn't written, but I think it'sjust as true that there's no man altogether bad. There's a spark of goodsomewhere in the worst of us, if we could but get at it. There's a sparkof good in Finlay."
"How can there be?" said Neal, angrily. "The man's a spy, an informer, apaid liar, a villain that takes gold and perjures himself."
"That's true, over true. And yet he wanted to save our lives to-day. Itell you the man's not all bad. There's something of the grace of Godleft in him after all."
Neal was not inclined to argue about the matter. He sat silent, watchingstar after star shine out of the moonless sky. After a long silence Hopespoke again.
"There are men among us who mean to take Finlay's life. I can'taltogether blame them. He deserves to die. But Neal, lad, don't you haveact or part in that. Remember the word,--'Vengeance is mine and I willrepay, saith the Lord.' If there's a spark of good in him at all, whoare we that we should cut him off from the chance of repentance? 'Thebruised reed shall he not break; the smoking flax shall he not quench.'Remember that, Neal."
From far down the side of the hill the sound of a woman's voice reachedthem faintly. It drew nearer.
"That's some slip of a lassie from off the farms below us," said Hope."She's looking out for some cow that's strayed."
"She's singing," said Neal. "I catch the fall of the tune now and then."
"She's coming nearer. It can't be a cow she's seeking. No beast wouldstray that far up amongst the heather and the stones."
The voice came more and more clearly. The words of the song reachedthem--
"I would I were in Ballinderry, I would I were in Aghalee, I would I were in bonny Ram's Island Sitting under an ivy tree. Ochone, ochone!"
"I know that song," said Neal.
"Everybody knows that song. There isn't a lass in Antrim or Down butsings it."
"But I know the singer too. I heard Peg Macllrea sing it once, Matier'sPeg, and I'm not likely to forget her voice."
"If you're sure of that, Neal, I'll let her know we're here. Anywayit can do no harm. There isn't a farm lass in the whole country wouldbetray us to the soldiers. Wait now till she sings it again."
By the firesides of Irish cottages when songs are sung during the longwinter evenings the list
eners often "croon" an accompaniment, droning inlow voices over and over again a few simple notes which harmonise withthe singer's voice. When the girl began her tune again Hope sang withher, repeating "Ochone, ochone" down four notes from the octave of thekeynote through the mediate to the keynote again. When she reached theend of the last line his voice rose suddenly to an unexpected seventh,which struck sharply on the ear. Prolonging the note after the girl'svoice died away, he rose to his feet and waved his arms. Soon PegMacllrea was beside them.
"I tell't the master where ye were," she said, "and I tell't Mr. Donald.They couldn't come theirsells, and they were afeard to let me out mylone. But I knew finely I could find you. I knew Neal here would mind mysong. I brought you a bite and a sup so as you wouldn't be famished outhere on the hillside."
She took a basket from her arm and laid it at Neal's feet.
"Sit down, Peg," said Hope, "sit down and eat with us. You're a goodgirl to think of bringing us the food, and you'll be wanting someyourself after your walk."
"I canna bide with you, and I ate my supper before I made out. I must begettin' back now. But I've a word to give you from your uncle, Neal. Hebid me tell you that you're trysted with him for Aeneas Moylin's housethe morrow night at eight o'clock."