The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 49

"Periwinkle Crackenfudge.

"Sir Thomas Gourlay, Bart."

CHAPTER XXIV.--An Irish Watchhouse in the time of the "Charlies."

Another subject which vexed the baronet not a little was the loss of his money and pistols by the robbery; but what he still felt more bitterly, was the failure of the authorities to trace or arrest the robber.

The vengeance which he felt against that individual lay like a black venomous snake coiled round his heart. The loss of the money and the fire-arms he might overlook, but the man, who, in a few moments, taught him to know himself as he was--who dangled him, as it were, over the very precipice of h.e.l.l--with all his iniquities upon his head, the man who made him feel the crimes of a whole life condensed into one fearful moment, and showed them to him darkened into horror by the black lightning of perdition; such a man, we say, he could never forgive. It was in vain that large rewards were subscribed and offered, it was in vain that every effort was made to discover the culprit. Not only was there no trace of him got, but other robberies had been committed by a celebrated highwayman of the day, named Finnerty, whom neither bribe nor law could reach.

Our readers may remember, with reference to the robbery of the baronet, the fact of Trailcudgel's having met the stranger on his way to disclose all the circ.u.mstances to the priest, and that he did not proceed farther on that occasion, having understood that Father M'Mahon was from home.

Poor Trailcudgel, who, as the reader is aware, was not a robber either from principle or habit, and who only resorted to it when driven by the agonizing instincts of nature, felt the guilt of his crime bitterly, and could enjoy rest neither night nor day, until he had done what he conceived to be his duty as a Christian, and which was all he or any man could do: that is, repent for his crime, and return the property to him from whom he had taken it. This he did, as it is usually done, through the medium of his pastor; and on the very day after the baronet's departure both the money and pistols were deposited in Father M'Mahon's hands.

In a few days afterwards the worthy priest, finding, on inquiry, that Sir Thomas had gone to Dublin, where, it was said, he determined to reside for some time, made up his mind to follow him, in order to restore him the property he had lost. This, however, was not the sole purpose of his visit to the metropolis. The letter he had given the stranger to Corbet, or Dunphy, had not, he was sorry to find, been productive of the object for which it had been written. Perhaps it was impossible that it could; but still the good priest, who was as shrewd in many things as he was benevolent and charitable in all, felt strongly impressed with a belief that this old man was not wholly ignorant, or rather unconnected with the disappearance of either one or the other of the lost children. Be this, however, as it may, he prepared to see the baronet for the purpose already mentioned.

He accordingly took his place--an inside one--in the redoubtable "Fly,"

which, we may add, was the popular vehicle at the time, and wrapping himself up in a thick frieze cloak, or great coat, with standing collar that b.u.t.toned up across his face to the very eyes, and putting a s.h.i.+rt or two, and some other small matters, into a little bundle--tying, at the same time, a cotton kerchief over his hat and chin--he started on his visit to the metropolis, having very much the appearance of a determined character, whose dress and aspect were not, however, such as to disarm suspicion. He felt much more careful of the baronet's pocket-book than he did of his own, and contrived to place it in an inside pocket, which being rather small for it, he was obliged to rip a little in order to give it admittance. The case of pistols he slipped into the pockets of his jock, one in each, without ever having once examined them, or satisfied himself--simple man--as to whether they were loaded or not. His own pocket-book was carelessly placed in the right-hand pocket of the aforesaid jock, along with one of the pistols.

The night was agreeable, and nothing worth recording took place until they had come about five miles on the side of ------, when a loud voice ordered the coachman to stop.

"Stop the coach, sir!" said the voice, with a good deal of reckless and bitter expression in it; "stop the coach, or you are a dead man."

Several pistols were instantly leveled at both coachman and guard, and the same voice, which was thin, distinct, and wiry, proceeded--"Keep all steady now, boys, and shoot the first that attempts to move. I will see what's to be had inside."

He went immediately to the door of the "Fly," and opening it, held up a dark lantern, which, whilst it clearly showed him the dress, countenances, and condition of the pa.s.sengers, thoroughly concealed his own.

The priest happened to be next him, and was consequently the first person on whom this rather cool demand was made.

"Come, sir," said the highwayman, "fork out, if you please; and be quick about it, if you're wise."

"Give a body time, if you plaise," responded the priest, who at that moment had about him all the marks and tokens of a farmer, or, at least, of a man who wished to pa.s.s for one. "I think," he added, "if you knew who you had, you'd not only pa.s.s me by, but the very coach I'm travelin'

in. Don't be unaisy, man alive," he proceeded; "have patience--for patience, as everybody knows, is a virtue--do, then, have patience, or, maybe--oh! ay!--here it is--here is what you want--the very thing, I'll be bound--and you must have it, too." And the poor man, in the hurry and alarm of the moment, pulled out one of the baronet's pistols.

The robber whipped away the lantern, and instantly disappeared. "By the tarn, boys," said he, "it's Finnerty himself, disguised like a farmer.

But he's mid to travel in a public coach, and the beaks on the lookout for him. h.e.l.lo! all's right, coachman; drive on, we won't disturb you this night, at all events. Gee hup!--off you go; and off we go--with empty pockets."

It happened that this language, which the robber did not intend to have reached the ears of the pa.s.sengers, was heard nevertheless, and from this moment until they changed horses at ------ there was a dead silence in the coach.

On that occasion one gentleman left it, and he had scarcely been half a minute gone when a person, very much in the garb and bearing of a modern detective, put in his head, and instantly withdrew it, exclaiming,

"Curse me, it's a hit--he's inside as snug as a rat in a trap. Up with you on top of the coach, and we'll pin him when we reach town. 'Gad, this is a windfall, for the reward is a heavy one.--If we could now manage the baronet's business, we were made men."

He then returned into the coach, and took his seat right opposite the priest, in order the better to watch his motions, and keep him completely under his eye.

"Dangerous traveling by night, sir," said he, addressing the priest, anxious to draw his man into conversation.

"By night or by day, the roads are not very safe at the present time,"

replied his reverence.

"The danger's princ.i.p.ally by night, though," observed the other. "This Finnerty is playing the devil, they say; and is hard to be nabbed by all accounts."

The observation was received by several hums, and hems, and has, and very significant e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, whilst a fat, wealthy-looking fellow, who sat beside the peace-officer--for such he was--in attempting to warn him of Finnerty's presence, by pressing on his foot, unfortunately pressed upon that of the priest in mistake, who naturally interpreted the hems and has aforesaid to apply to the new-corner instead of himself. This cannot be matter of surprise, inasmuch as the priest had his ears so completely m.u.f.fled up with the collar of his jock and a thick cotton kerchief, that he heard not the allusions which the robber had made outside the coach, when he mistook him for Finnerty. He consequently peered very keenly at the last speaker, who to tell the truth, had probably in his villanous features ten times more the character and visage of a highwayman and cutthroat than the redoubtable Finnerty himself.

"It's a wonder," said the priest, "that the unfortunate man has not been taken."

"Hum!" exclaimed the officer; "unfortunate man. My good fellow, that's very mild talk when speaking of a robber. Don't you know that all robbers deserve the gallows, eh?"

"I know no such thing," replied the priest. "Many a man has lived by robbing, in his day, that now lives by catching them; and many a poor fellow, as honest as e'er an individual in this coach--"

"That's very shocking language," observed a thin, prim, red-nosed lady, with a vinegar aspect, who sat erect, and apparently fearless, in the corner of the coach--"very shocking language, indeed. Why, my good man, should you form any such wile kimparison?"

"Never mind, ma'am; never mind," said the officer, whose name was Darby; "let him proceed; from what he is about to say, I sha'n't be surprised if he justifies robbery--not a bit--but will be a good deal, if he don't. Go on, my good fellow."

"Well," proceeded the priest, "I was going to say, that many a poor wretch, as honest as e'er an individual, man or woman--"

Here there was, on the part of the lady, an indignant toss of the head, and a glance of supreme scorn leveled at the poor priest; whilst Darby, like a man who had generously undertaken the management of the whole discussion, said, with an air of conscious ability, if not something more, "nevermind him, ma'am; give him tether."

"As honest," persisted the priest, "as e'er an individual, man or woman, in this coach--and maybe, if the truth were known, a good deal honester than some of them."

"Good," observed the officer; "I agree with you in that--right enough there."

The vinegar lady, now apprehensive that her new ally had scandalously abandoned her interests, here dropped her eyes, and crossed her hands upon her breast, as if she had completely withdrawn herself from the conversation.

"I finds," said she to herself, in a contemptuous soliloquy, "as how there ain't no gentleman in this here wehicle."

"Just pay attention, ma'am," said the officer--"just pay attention, that's all."

This, however, seemed to have no effect--at least the lady remained in the same att.i.tude, and made no reply.

"Suppose now," proceeded the priest, "that an unfortunate father, in times of scarcity and famine, should sit in his miserable cabin, and see about him six or seven of his family, some dying of fever, and others dying from want of food; and suppose that he was driven to despair by reflecting that unless he forced it from the rich who would not out of their abundance prevent his children from starving, he can procure them relief in no other way, and they must die in the agonies of hunger before his face. Suppose this, and that some wealthy man, without sympathy for his fellow-creatures, regardless of the cries of the poor-heartless, ambitious, and oppressive; and suppose besides that it was this very heartless and oppressive man of wealth who, by his pride and tyranny, and unchristian vengeance, drove that poor man and his wretched family to the state I have painted them for you, in that cold and dreary hovel; suppose all this, I say, and that that wretched poor man, his heart bursting, and his brain whirling, stimulated by affection, goaded by hunger and indescribable misery; suppose, I say, that in the madness of despair he sallies out, and happens to meet the very individual who brought him and his to such a dreadful state--do you think that he ought to let him pa.s.s--"

"I see," interrupted the officer, "without bleeding him; I knew you would come to that--go along."

"That he ought to let that wealthy oppressor pa.s.s, and allow the wife of his bosom and his gasping little ones to perish, whilst he knows that taking that a.s.sistance from him by violence which he ought to give freely would save them to society and him? Mark me, I'm not justifying robbery. Every general rule has its exception; and I'm only supposing a case where the act of robbery may be more ent.i.tled to compa.s.sion than to punishment--but, as I said, I'm not defending it."

"Ain't you, faith?" replied the officer; "it looks devilish like it, though. Don't you think so, ma'am?"

"I never listens to no nonsense like that ere," replied the lady. "All I say is, that a gentleman as I've the honor of being acquainted with, 'as been robbed the other night of a pocket-book stuffed with banknotes, and a case of Hirish pistols that he kept to shoot robbers, and sich other wulgar wretches as is to be found nowhere but in Hireland."

"Stuffed!" exclaimed the priest, disdainfully; "as much stuffed, ma'am, as you are."

The officer's very veins tingled with delight on hearing the admission which was involved in the simple priest's exclamation. He kept it, however, to himself, on account of the large reward that lay in the background.

"I stuffed!" exclaimed the indignant lady, whose thin face had for a considerable time been visible, for it was long past dawn; "I defy you, sir," she replied, "you large, nasty, Hirish farmer, as feeds upon nothing but taters. I stuffed!--no lady--you nasty farmer--goes without padding, which is well known to any man as is a gentleman. But stuffed!

I defy you, nasty Paddy; I was never stuffed. Those as stuff use 'oss 'air; now I never uses 'oss 'air."