Up for the Green: a romance of the Irish Rebellion of 1798

Front matter

BY THE SAME AUTHOR O'GRADY OF TRINITY Crown 8vo, 3s. Qd. " A lively, rattling novel, written with unflagging verve." — Times. " This story of University life is a distinct success. There are other things than fun in O'Grady of Trinity — touches of pathos, for instance, which show real mastery of the literary art." — Spectator. " A picture pleasant to contemplate, the talk is always clever, and sometimes scholarly. There are some spirited scenes in the book, and an engaging love story."— Daily News. A particularly pleasant and wholesome novel." — Speaker. a romance of THE IRISH REBELLION OF 1798 By H. A. HINKSON AUTHOR OF "O'GRADV OF TRINITY," "GOLDEN LADS AND GIRLS," ETC. Then up for the Green, boys, and up for the Green ! O 'tis down in the dust, and a shame to be seen ; But we've hands, O we've hands, boys, full strong enough, I ween, To rescue and to raise again our own immortal Green !

LONDON LAWRENCE AND BULLEN, Ltd. 16 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. AUTHOR'S NOTE For several of the incidents related in this story, the author is indebted to the narrative of Samuel Riley, a yeoman of Cork, who was captured by the rebels, while on his way to Dublin, in September 1798. To My Friend FRANK MATHEW CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. WE SET OUT ON OUR JOUENEY ... ... 1 II. THE CAPTURE OF THE MAIL-COACH ... 11 III. IN THE HANDS OF THE REBELS ... ... 24 IV. IN THE MOUNTAINS ... ... ... 37 V. A LOYALIST SPY ... ... ... ... 55 VI. A MERRY EVENING ... ... ... 67 VII. THE CRY OF THE CURLEW ... ... ... 80 VIII. THE FRUIT OF THE GALLOWS-TREE ... 91 IX. THE MARCH OF THE REBELS ... ... 109 X. PRISONERS ON PAROLE ... ... . . 117 XI. WE PART COMPANY WITH THE REBELS ... 124 XII. THE WEARING OF THE GREEN ... ... 138 XIII.

A HAVEN OF REFUGE ... ... ... 147 XIV. THE DARK HOUSE ... ... ... ... 158 XV. THE FIGHT ON THE HILL ... ... ... 169 XVI. THE GOLD ORANGE OR THE GREEN APPLE 187 XVII. WE FALL IN WITH FRIENDS ... ... 200 yviu. "a couple of plover, and as green as THE GRASS" ... ... ... ... CONTENTS VIII CHAP. FAGE XIX. A PROPHET OF EVIL ... ... ••• 227 XX. THE COURT-MARTIAL ... ... ••■ 243 XXI. A TOAST ... ... ... ... ■•• 260 XXII. WE REACH THE CITY OF DUBLIN... ... 269 XXIII. IN THE HOUSE OF MY KINSMAN ... ... 276 XXIV. THE LEADER OF A LOST CAUSE ... ... 284 XXV. "WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO " ... 295 XXVI. THE HEAD OF A TRAITOR... ... ... 305 XXVII. MONSIEUR LE BLANC ... ... ... 313 xxviii. a rebel's wife ... ... ... ... UP FOR THE GREEN

Chapter I We Set Out On Our Journey

It was in September of the year 1798, a year memorable for much terrible suffering to my unhappy countrymen, and for but few acts of mercy or compassion, that I resolved to set out from my native city of Cork and travel, as conveniently as might be, to the city of Dublin. I had no small business dealings with the capital, as was but natural, seeing that I was a merchant of some repute, which I had won, less by my own worth and deserving, than by the blessing of God. I had indeed prospered amazingly hitherto ; but this unhappy year seemed like to put an end to my prosperity if not also to my life. It was no longer possible to travel through the country with any degree of safety, for save B those few parts which were still held by them that remained loyal to the King's Majesty, the kingdom was in the hands of bands of malcontents, who, calling themselves United Irishmen, declared that they would no longer be governed by the English, as they had been, but would set up for themselves a government of Irish and would be independent of the English for ever.

And in this design they went near to succeeding, for had not their plans miscarried so that many of their leaders were captured and put to death before the date fixed upon for the rebellion, I know not what power on earth could have hindered them, so great did their resolution seem. But when they had lost many of their leaders, and several battles, in which they engaged the King's troops, I began to have less apprehension of their success, feeling sure that they would quickly lose heart and disperse to their several homes. I was now very eager to visit the city of Dublin, for, as I have said, I had much business needing my presence there, and for many months I had been unable to journey thither because the roads were beset by rebels. I had suffered considerable loss thereby, and this loss I was solicitous to repair with as little delay as possible.

Indeed, were it not for the urgent nature of my business, I might well have yielded to the entreaties of my friends and put off my journey for a more fitting season, when it would no longer be attended with great risk ; but I had another reason which, in my poor human and erring judgment, I considered to admit of less delay. I had but lately received a letter from my kinsman, James Lefroy, a comfortable merchant dwelling in Dame Street in the city of Dublin, in which, amongst other things, he besought my attention unto a matter which he declared concerned both him and me, if I would give to his proposal my countenance. His son William, he wrote, was now reached the age of twenty-seven years, being both sober and God-fearing. He was, too, as every young man ought to be, diligent in business, and it was now time that he should bethink him of taking a wife, seeing that it is not good for man to be alone, when he has come to years of discretion, and has ample fortune to maintain a wife fittingly.

Now my daughter Patience had but lately completed her eighteenth year, and was as well grown and as comely a maiden as any in the city of Cork, and the prospect of a union with my kinsman's son pleased me right well. For, I thought, it is not good for a maiden when she is of an age for marriage to remain a spinster, seeing that the mind of a virgin is indeed a fruitful soil for the growth of pure and holy thoughts, if weeds and tares be not first planted therein, which might easily happen in a city where the wicked are greater in number than the righteous, and young men go about the streets wearing rich and costly garments and gew-gaws so as to draw away a maiden's feet from the paths of modesty. As soon as I was resolved on making the journey I sought out my friend, Mr. Peter Foster, for I wished to learn his opinion on the matter, and if possible to persuade him to accompany me.

Mr. Foster was a reputable porter merchant in the same city, and he too had been greatly injured in his business through this unhappy rebellion, for he had much porter that he could not sell to any man, and still more of it was drunk by the rebels, in disloyal toasts, and for it my friend received no payment. " Foster," I said, " I think the rebellion is crushed." " The handsome Quaker is dead," he an swered, looking at me and smiling. " He is so," I said, thinking the while how we had been outwitted by "the handsome Quaker," as we had called young Lord Edward Fitzgerald, when he came to Cork in the guise of a Friend to stir up sedition among us. For, in truth, we no more suspected that he was a rebel than that he was son to the Duke of Leinster, and this was but natural, seeing that it was in the house of David Aikenhead, the Quaker physician, that I had met him, and found him exceeding comely and pleasant of converse.

" Many another rebel has followed him," Foster remarked thoughtfully. " Aye so," I replied ; " I hear that Bagenal Harvey rots on the Bridge of Wexford." " God forgive him," Foster exclaimed, " for he was a bad advocate." " And a worse general," said I. " He would be a rebel," Foster retorted. " And so he is dead," I answered. " So perish all the King's enemies," Foster exclaimed, with so much bitterness that I remembered his lawsuit and how Bagenal Harvey had failed to win it for him, and yet he had little justice on his side. " The rebellion is over," I said, looking at him. " What are you thinking of . " he asked. " Going to Dublin," I replied. " Are you so ? " he asked in surprise, " then you'll be a long time getting there." " It's a long journey," I said. " It never was longer than it is now," he returned.

" What do you mean ? " I asked. " There'll be rebels on the road," he said, " I never knew it free from robbers," I replied. " Then good luck go with you," he said. " I think you wdl come with me," I went on. " I am not good luck," he answered frown ing, as though the word luck disagreed with him. " But you are a friend, and I would have your company," I said. " You may be certain of it when I part company with my wits," he answered. " You've a great lot of porter in store," I remarked. " That I have," he replied, looking quickly at me, " and more than I like." " I hear that Rossiter of Dublin is wanting more than he can get," I remarked carelessly. " Is it so ? " he inquired, seeming much affected by my news. " You might meet him in Dublin," I said. He made no reply, and so I left him. I was not without hope that Foster would accompany me, when he thought further on the matter.

When I returned home I sent for my daughter, so that I might acquaint her with my intended journey. I deemed it wiser not to take her into my confidence in regard to the future which I had designed for her, and which lay very near my heart. In deed, I had little doubt that when she knew of my desire, she would be satisfied to leave her future welfare wholly in my hands. " Patience," I said, taking her hand in mine, " I am going on a journey." " A journey ! " she exclaimed, her face growing pale and her lips quivering. " Oh, father, whither will you go ? " "No such great journey, after all, my child," I answered, smiling that her alarm was so readily awakened ; " indeed no further than Dublin." "Oh, father, there will be danger on the road," she cried, " and I shall be left alone." "Do you not fear danger when you are with me ?

" I asked. " Not when we are together," she answered. " And yet you are stdl but a maiden, and scarce yet a woman," I began. " I think I am a woman," she said, rifting her head, " at least in spirit, and so I shall be brave." " What will you do if we meet with rebels on the way ? " I asked. " They will not hurt us, for Bridget says that they are alwaj^s kind to women, and so, maybe, they will be kind to you, if we meet them, because I am with you." " Bridget is a foolish woman and chatters too much," I said a little sternly, for I was not over well pleased to find that Patience gave ear so readily to a maidservant's silly chatter. At this rebuke, which indeed I considered necessary, Patience bent her head and made no answer. Then I told her that, as we should set out within two days, it would be well that she should begin her preparations without delay.

She was soon busied in making selection from her wardrobe, of such garments as she wished to take with her, and although it would have pleased me better had she chosen colours of a more quiet and sober hue, yet I did not take the occasion to reprove her, as perhaps it was my duty to do. And, if it was through any failure to do my duty, that misfortune overtook us, indeed I was sorely punished. On the morning of the next day I was justi fied of my hope that Foster would accompany us, for I received a message from him desiring to know when we proposed to set out. Ac cordingly I took seats in his Majesty's mad coach, judging that by this means I should reach the capital more safely as well as more expeditiously than by a private conveyance. But in this I was deceived, having but my own poor human wit to direct me, and, it may be, not having with sufficient earnestness besought the All-wise Ruler for guidance in the matter.

During the day news reached the city that the rebels had made several very determined attacks upon the town of Naas, which was held by the King's troops, but that they had been beaten off with considerable loss. This news disquieted me not a little, for I feared lest we should fall in with some of these rebels, maddened and infuriated by defeat. I had however no thought of turning back or of relinquishing my purpose. So, having but little prevision of what evil was to befall us, we took our seats in the mail coach and began our journey.

Chapter II The Capture Of The Mail-coach

Besides Mr. Foster, there were but two other passengers in the coach, doubtless be cause of the unsettled state of the country. Of them one was a Scotsman, named Frazer. He was very weather-beaten and seemed honest, yet he caused my daughter much con fusion, for, whether she slept or whether she remained awake, his eye was ever fixed upon her, and this rudeness occasioned me much annoyance. But, in this matter I did him wrong, as it afterwards turned out, for it was not his fault but through the affliction of God that he could not change the direction of his glance. Our other fellow-traveller was one Edward Gardner, a worthy citizen of Kinsale. None of us carried arms, for we judged that they would be more likelv to endanger our lives than to protect them, if we were attacked by the enemy; for that although we might succeed in killing one or more of them, our own lives would most certainly be forfeited in exchange.

Both Foster and I were loyal yeomen and carried with us the badges which our Captain had given us, in case we should fall in with yeomen upon the way. Moreover, Foster also had a rose in his hair, that none should doubt of his loyalty. It was still dark when we left the city, for the sun had not yet risen. At first we pro ceeded slowly, but when we had left the river Lee some miles behind us, the coach-driver whipped up his horses so that we went at a brisk rate. I was eager to pass the Red Forge safely, for there, in times of peace, most danger was to be feared by travellers who had aught else but their lives to lose. Many a broken gentleman, who had nothing left him save a stout heart, joined with an easy conscience, took to the road, and, by the Red Forge, plundered such unlucky travellers as carried gold with them.

I was not without appre hension, as we came near to this meeting-place of robbers. I told Foster of what was in my mind, but he treated the matter lightly. THE CAPTUBE OF THE MAIL-COACH 13 " Have no fear," he said, "for I hear that since the Rising no man has been robbed on any road in Cork." " It is strange," I answered, " if rebellion has made the people more honest." At this he laughed. " Those who aim at a kingdom," he ex claimed, " make little account of a purse, how ever well filled." " I thank God for the change," I replied, " for a kingdom can take better care of itself than I can of my purse." As I said this I turned and looked out of the window. We were passing the Red Forge. It seemed as if Foster had spoken aright, for I saw no man about the place. Neither was there any sound save the cawing of the rooks in a clump of trees hard by.

The sun had already begun to pierce the morning mists and glistened on the wet leaves of the trees by the roadside. When we were about a mile beyond the Red Forge, we proceeded very slowly. This puzzled me, because the road was level and good and the horses by no means weary. At length, seeing that the driver showed no in tention to quicken his pace, I resolved to urge him to do so, for I was eager to be further from so dangerous a place as that which we had just left. I put my head out through the window and was about to call to the driver to proceed more quickly when suddenly I saw, a little in front of us, a solitary horseman. He wore a heavy riding-cloak, and his beaver was drawn over his eyes, so that his face was almost con cealed. Both horse and rider were motionless. When we came up to him, the horseman rode quickly alongside the coach-horses and seemed to converse with the driver, albeit I could not hear what he said.

Then, suddenly he wheeled his horse half round, and putting spurs to him, leaped from the road across the ditch into the field, by our side. For a few moments, I saw him as he galloped through the field, then the trees hid him from my sight. At the same moment our driver whipped up his horses and again we began to travel at a very rapid rate, so that I had no opportunity of inquiring who the stranger was or what he had desired. I asked Foster what he made of it, but he laughed, de claring that he saw nothing strange in meetino a man on horseback, and as for his conversing with the driver of the coach, as like as not he was inquiring his way from him. Now, although I was not altogether satisfied with Foster's explanation, I judged it better to say no more of the matter, lest I should alarm Patience, and this I was loath to do seeing how happy she was, and how much joy she found in the journey.

Neither did I see anything else to cause us apprehension, and save that the fields were neglected and no man was working in them, the country seemed as peaceful as a picture. Thus we accomplished the greater part of our journey, without let or hindrance, and I had several times lifted up my voice in thanksgiving for our safety, waking my daughter in order that she too should testify her gratitude. It was but little past three o'clock in the afternoon, when we came near to a place called Red Gap, some twenty miles from Dublin and our journey's end, and about three miles from Kilcullen, where, as I afterwards learned, was a camp held by the United Irish men. The heat of the day and the pleasant motion had made me drowsy, and having my mind now fairly at rest, I was fallen into as sweet a slumber as I could expect in a mailcoach.

Suddenly a terrible sound, as of many blunderbusses discharged together, and close to us, woke me from my slumber. I leapt up, rubbing my eyes vigorously, so that they should bear witness to my ears, and looked out, while Patience clung affrighted to my arm. At first I could perceive nothing save that we had entered the Red Gap. Then Foster cried out — " My God, we are lost. Look there !" and he pointed to the road in front of the coach. But I did not need his warning to discover what peiil we were in, for at the front of the road leading to the mountains, I espied a congregation of armed men mounted on horse back and formed into a close body. They were very fierce in aspect, and indeed were like so many devils fixing themselves in attitudes of attack, and, it seemed, ready to fire at the coach.

At the same time a number of young men carrying pikes leaped into the road, and with loud cries of triumph surrounded the coach. One of them rushed to the driver, and with a blow of his pike knocked him from his seat so that he tumbled heavily to the o-round. When they saw this my companions were no less alarmed than I, thinking that our driver was surely dead, and seeing that there was none, save only the Almighty, to help us in our need. My daughter, who had tiU now borne herself bravely, seeing our discom fiture, began to weep, and this added to our distress. So, chiding her gently for her lack of confidence in an All-wise Providence, I bethought me instantly of the pass, which, as a yeoman, I had received from my Captain. This I drew from my pocket and tore into as many small pieces as the time would allow, and threw them to the bottom of the coach.

I had scarcely done so when the door of the coach was thrown suddenly open. Outside stood a man in a uniform of dark green, with gilt epaulettes upon his shoulders, and a green silk sash about his waist. He wore on his head a cocked hat in which was fastened a green and white silk cockade, and, altogether, I judged him to be a person of some authority amongst the rebels. He seemed about to shut the door again, after he had looked at us, when his eye fell on my daughter, who clung to me, weeping. " Do not be afraid," he said, in a voice that o sounded very pleasant in an enemy, " no one shall hurt you." Then, shutting the door, he turned away, and appeared to give some orders to his followers, for two fellows, armed with blunderbusses, took up a position at the door to guard it. I now saw a sight which amazed me not a little, and this was nothing else than our late driver, whom we had thought dead, being led forward, amidst great laughter and cheering from the rebels.

He had a green scarf bound about his waist, a green ribbon tied upon his arm, and in his hat a green cockade. I wondered if they were going to shoot him, and had so dressed him out of mere wanton ness, but it was not so. Indeed, they set him again upon the driving-seat of the coach, one of them giving to him his whip when he had adorned it with a green ribbon. In truth he seemed little the worse for the blow which had been dealt him. He was scarcely upon his seat again, when he cracked his whip aud cried out several times — " Hurrah for the Army of the Union." At this the others shouted and many of them laughed. "His head was a weak one," said Foster "if such a blow could make him a rebel." " His loyalty was weaker than his skull," I answered, " seeing that his head is still there but his loyalty is gone."

The coach now began to move on again, and two troopers rode on each side of us, though there was but little fear of us escaping. Thus we proceeded for about the distance of half a mile, when we reached a village con sisting of a few straggling cottages, most of which were in ruins. Here there was a great body of rebels dressed in clothes of different colours. In their hats they wore green and white silk cockades, and in front many of them had cards bearing the words " Death or Liberty." They were very fierce-looking fellows and well-armed, for numbers of them carried muskets, blunderbusses, and pistols. Their haversacks, too, seemed full of powder. But most of them carried pikes, which was their most dangerous weapon, and these they had adorned with green ribbon. As soon as she had recovered from her first terror, Patience ceased to weep, and readily listened to the consolations which I gave her, albeit my heart was sorely troubled to think what our fate might be.

Then she took heart to look about her, and her woman's fancy was soon so much attracted by the sights which she saw around her that she forgot all danger and her recent terror in wonder. Indeed, had it been one of peace, it was a pretty sight to see the evening sun reflected from the pike-heads and reddening the steel of their trappings, while the ribands fluttered gaily in the gentle breeze. As soon as the coach had halted, the door was opened again by the same rebel who had bidden my daughter be of good cheer. In a voice which somewhat reassured me, for it was by no means unpleasant, he bade us alight. I beckoned my daughter to follow me, and, with alacrity, for I deemed it not well to excite the anger of our captors, I stepped from the coach. Then I turned to assist my daughter, but the rebel leader pushed me aside, yet without violence.

"Sir," he said, smiling, "that is the privilege of a younger man." "But not his duty," I answered him. " I think it is that also," he returned, lift ing Patience from the coach and bowing to her. Mr. Foster, who had now somewhat recovered from the alarm into which he had fallen at first, began to protest against such dl-usage, demanding to know on whose authority this outrage had been committed. " Who are you, sir 1 " he exclaimed with much passion, " that you dare to stop his Majesty's mail-coach and interfere with the liberty of his Majesty's subjects . " This outbreak of anger, albeit it was very natural under the circumstances, caused me much concern, for I feared that if we should displease their leader, the rebels would shoot us down without any pity. " Your request is not unreasonable, sir," he answered, quietly.

" My name is Neale, at your service, and my rank is Captain in the Army of the Union." This latter he added with much pride. " I know no such army," Foster exclaimed, " and recognize no such rank." Captain Neale shrugged his shoulders. " You will have abundant opportunity," he said, " of knowing it later. At present by the fortune of war you are my prisoner, and," he added with much meaning, " a civil tongue has before now made a prisoner's lot more tolerable." When he had said this he turned to the Scotsman, who was the only one who now re mained in the coach, and bade him come out. Mr. Frazer seemed very loath to obey ; he was sitting upon his trunk, looking very discon solate, and, indeed, if it had not been for the danger we were in, I could not have forborne to laugh at the expression of his face.

At length he was prevailed upon to quit his trunk, which the Captain assured him would be taken good care of, and to join the rest of us. " What wdl you do with us . " I asked. " Take you to the Colonel," he answered. " And then . " I inquired. He shrugged his shoulders. " We will follow you," I said. He bowed. " If you attempt to escape you will be shot." To this I made answer that we were more confident of escaping through the kindness of our captors and the pitifulness of our case than by any deed of our own doing, and at this I thought he seemed pleased. Then, holding my daughter's hand in mine, I followed the Captain, while the other prisoners fell in behind us. A company of some twenty fellows brought up the rear to guard us. When we had gone about a hundred paces up the road, we came to a cabin with a roof of thatch and walls of mud.

In front of it two men, armed with blunderbusses, were stand ing. Here the Captain halted and spoke with the men. Then, bidding us wait outside, he entered the cabin.

Chapter III In The Hands Of The Rebels

When Captain Neale was gone, I addressed myself with what persuasion I could to com forting my daughter, who had again become much depressed, not knowing what was to become of us, and seeing that there was no chance of escape from the rascals who sur rounded us, and also because they had taken the box containing her wearing apparel, which she had no longer any hope of seeing again. Whde I was so engaged, the Captain returned and ordered me to follow him into the cabin. So, holding my daughter's hand in mine so as to give her greater confidence, I obeyed his command and entered the cabin. In the middle of the room was a table on which a large map was spread. At this table, facing one another, two men were sitting, and between them, lying upon the map, was a IN THE HANDS OF THE REBELS 25 pack of cards, with which, I made no doubt, they had just ceased playing.