The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran and his Man Mark Anthony O'Toole ... With illustrations by J. Leech

Front matter

>. THE FORTUNES , HECTOR O'HALLORAN, AND BIS MAN MARK ANTHONY O'TOOLE. WI W. H. MAXWELL. ~K AUTHOR OU "STORIES Of WATERLOO," ''THE LIFE OF THE IlCKE OF WELLINGTON "' THE BIVuUAC," ETC. ■•Jfaugf) a loallaali." WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. LEECH. LONDON : WILLIAM TEGG AND Co., 85, QUEEN STREET, CHEAPSIDE. 1853. J. HAODON AMI SON, PRINTERS, CASTLE STREET, FIN3BURY. ILLUSTKATIONS. 1. THE CROSS BECKONING to face Title. 2. ARRIVAL OF THE SERGEANT WITH HIS BUNDLE .... Pa"-e 12 3. NIGHT ATTACK ON CASTLE KNOCKLOFTY \_ 4. TAKING A RASPER 82 6. THE DISCOVERY gO 6. AN IRISH SKRIMMAGE 54 7. SCENE AT THE COCK AND PUNCHBOWL 75 8. HECTOR'S APPEARANCE AFTER THE CAROUSAL 101 9. the jew's design frustrated 108 10. THE ROBBERY OF TIM MALEY 142 11. THE DUEL 152 12. THE MEETING BETWEEN MEN OF BUSINESS 171 13. MR. MALONE'S EVENING PARTY 184 14.

ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE HECTOR 194 15. A HIGHLY-RESPECTABLE JURY 208 10. THE HOUSE OF CALL . 226 17. THE SLAVE SHIP 229 18. PETER CROTTY'S INTERVIEW WITH LORD WELLINGTON .... 262 19. HECTOR AND MARK ANTONY IN THE POSADA 267 20. MARK ANTONY SAVING THE VOLTIGEUr's LIFE 295 21. SETTLING AN ACCOUNT 320 22. MAJOR FITZMAURICE INTRODUCED TO MISS FLORA 334 23. HECTOR WOUNDED 352 24. A DANGEROUS INTRUDER 354 25. HECTOR AND MARK ANTONY IN A PREDICAMENT 379 26. THE SURPRISE 392 27. A CONSULTATION ' ... 4 HECTOR O'HALLORAN.

Chapter I

A FIRST ANNIVERSARY " Although you open force disdain, Of secret guile beware ! " John Leyden. _ It was a cold frosty evening in December, seventeen hundred and ninety-five, and the whole of the month had been unusually tempestuous. Throughout wide Britain, there are no shores on which the wind rages with wilder fury than upon those naked promontories which abut into the Atlantic, along the iron-bound coast of Donegal. Harbours are few and far between — the peasantry are a hardy and adventurous race — and the fishing grounds distant from the land. In the winter, snow storms come suddenly on, and the sea rises with fearful rapidity. The boatmen are caught in the gale, and too frequently courage and skiU struggle in vain, " Contending with the fretful elements ; ': and a calamitous loss of Use robs many a family of its protectors, making the humble roof-tree desolate.

During the continuation of these fearful storms, this wUd coast had not escaped its customary visitations. An island smack had foundered with aU its crew ; and farther to the northward, a transport, homewardbound from HoUand with sick and wounded soldiers, having been dismasted in the gale, was driven a wreck upon the coast. By the fearless intrepidity of some fishermen, the sinking vessel was carried through a fissure in the rocks into a sandy bay j and, by what appeared miracu lous interposition, the lives of aU on board were saved, even when hope was over. On the second evening after this fortunate deUverance our story opens. Indeed, the epoch was memorable. That disastrous campaign which brought disgrace upon the British arms, had just terminated in the evacuation of the Low Countries, and the withdrawal to its own B shores of the debris of a splendid force, which, under luckless auspices, had left England buoyant with the assurance of success.

Nor was a foreign faUure the only circumstance which at this eventful period gave cause for apprehension. In England, the public mind was agitated, monetary confidence deeply shaken, and revolutionary principles were gaining ground ; whUe in Ireland the peasantry united in lawless associa tions, and murder, with robbery of arms, intimated that some insurrec tionary movement was at hand. In a word, everything was gloomy and discouraging abroad, and at home life and property had no security. With few exceptions the resident gentry had repaired for protection to garrisoned towns. Some however, with more spirit than discretion, determined to remain within their houses, and my father was of that number. Yet there were few persons excepting its owner, who, even in peaceful times, would choose Knockloftie for an abiding place.

It was an old and dreary -looking fabric, — one portion consisting of a dark square tower, the keep of a former stronghold of the O'Hallorans, — and the others, additions buUt at different periods, according to the wants or fancies of succeeding proprietors. The house was perched upon a cliff, which rose in sheer ascent two hundred feet above the beach beneath it. Although sheltered by some high grounds behind, stiU, as the buUding looked upon the ocean, it was necessarily exposed and cold ; whUe dwarfed and sickly copse-wood — aU that repeated efforts to grow timber could produce — instead of improving the general appear ance of the place, gave a sUent but striking evidence of its hopeless sterUity. To my father, however, Knockloftie had hereditary endearments. For five centuries his ancestors had been born and died there ; and he clung with a famUy attachment to that ancient roof-tree, where the O'HaUorans, in better days, had exercised a boundless hospitality, which even yet was chronicled in the traditions of the neighbourhood.

But local associations apart, my father would have scorned to yield to the threatening appearances of the times, and leave his mansion in alarm. He was " every inch" a soldier ; and in aU relations between landlord and tenant, it was universaUy admitted that he was both liberal and kind. He had vainly endeavoured to rouse the spirit of the gentry, and induce them, by bold and united efforts, to crush the increasing disaffection ; and at a recent county meeting, after delivering a stirrm<* appeal, he concluded by a declaration, that, " whUe the old tower of Knockloftie had a roof, it never should want an arni to defend it," — and he raised his own. Although Colonel O'HaUoran had faUed to produce the reaction he desired, stiU the bold example he had given was not without effect. The government was appealed to for assistance, rewards were offered largely for the apprehension of the guilty, vigorous measures pro posed and agreed to, and the dormant energies of the aristocracy seemed awakening.

Of course, my father occupied a prominent place m the estimation of both the loyal and the disaffected. With the former he was considered the master-spirit, who was to direct them in this their hour of difficulty; while the latter set him down as the most dangerous enemy they had to dread. In a moment, former kindness and consequent popularity vanished like a dream, the delenda est of Knockloftie was pronounced, and in the black list to guide the future murderer my father's name stood first. Such was the state of the times, and such the local condition of the country in which the opening scene of this true history is laid. My first anniversary had come round ; and although the hospitable relations which had formerly existed among the gentry had been interrupted, still, on this occasion, there was a semblance of rejoicing in my father's house, though, sooth to say, it was after all a sickly effort at festivity.

In the great chamber of Knockloftie the lord of the mansion, with his lady and two guests, were seated. The apartment was a large, square, and ill-lit room, occupying the lower portion of the tower. Both floor and ceiling were framed of native oak, which time had nearly blackened, and the walls were half-concealed by portraits rudely executed. Many indications of the danger of the times were apparent in this ancient chamber. The windows were jealously secured, and every where weapons of all descriptions were seen. Two arm-racks, holding a dozen muskets each, were placed in either corner, while some silver sconces dependent from the cornice shed on the polished arms a flickering light. But the chamber was better illuminated ; for the huge hearth was heaped with bog -wood, and the ruddy flare this cheerful fire emitted reached the remotest extremity of the apartment, and half dispelled its gloom.

As Scott would say, " the tables were drawn," and dinner had disap peared. My mother sat in an antique high-backed chair, busily employed in knitting shooting -stockings for her husband ; my father had extracted another cork ; the parson pronounced the wine unexceptionable ; and the priest, " good easy man," was stirring an obdurate piece of sugar, deposited in the bottom of his second tumbler. The clock upon the mantelpiece struck seven, and the butler, after replenishing a bent basket with firewood, quitted the presence and closed the door. All these events had passed, and it is high time that the gentle reader should be formally introduced to the company. The history of my parents must be intermixed. Lieutenant- Colonel Denis O'Halloran was now some thirty-one, but he looked older by a dozen years.

He was a tall, athletic man, well formed and well set-up, with an air and bearing which did not .require the attestation of an empty sleeve, to prove him « no carpet knight " and stamp him soldier. He entered the service a boy of sixteen— and at six-and-twenty, the women said he was the handsomest fellow in garrison. At twenty-seven, the old major having signified his intention to retire, my grandsire, more Hibernico, secured his son's promotion by parting with another town land. At twenty-eight, Major O'Halloran further promoted himself for he carried off the pretty brunette who was now demurely knitting stockings in the corner! Heavenforgive him '.-my mother was boaid er in a convent-and one blessed moonlight morning when the nu™ dreaming of heaven, and the superior sleeping fast as a with the assistance of a ladder and three B"™^**^ Clifford was liberated from holy pupilage, and at Gretr.a Green she. b became Mrs. O'HaUoran, and that too, without taking the opinion of the parish as to whether there was just cause or impediment against the same. e , My mother was the only daughter of a Catholic gentleman ot large estate.

He had however a son by a former marriage, fifteen years older. The boy grew up wUd and extravagant— and at twenty-one had dissipated a handsome fortune. At last his angry parent totaUy discarded him, and to support his endless debaucheries, the unhappy youth resorted to discreditable means for obtaining the money he required. With some profligate companions he became involved in a transaction which rendered them obnoxious to the law, and in consequence, Edward CUfford left England secretly. Eighteen years had elapsed — none could say whether he was dead or living— but the general belief was, that he fiUed an early and dishonoured grave. Mr. Clifford was a bigot in religion. AU his hopes had long since centered in his daughter; and the great object of his hfe was to marry her to a person of his own persuasion, and a union was negotiated, and nearly concluded, between Emily and the son of a Catholic peer.

In the meantime, her education had been entrusted to the sisterhood of a convent, alike celebrated for sanctity and strictness, where, as Mr. Clifford believed, his daughter would be equally secure against attempts upon her faith or her affections. What must have been his rage and astonishment when the news of her elopement was communicated ! She who had been designed to wed a peer — whose loved society he had relinquished, that her religious opinions might be confirmed by spiritual instruction — she was lost to him for ever ; united by an indissoluble tie to the son of a distressed gentleman — and worse stiU, to the professor of a creed from which Mr. Clifford fearfully recoiled, as a system founded in heresy and error. After a sufficient time had been allowed to permit the first burst of parental displeasure to exhaust itself, letters were written to Mr. CUfford by the offenders, to deprecate his anger and solicit pardon and forgiveness ; but they came back with unbroken seals, whUe other circumstances concurred to convince my parent that, for a time at least, the old gentleman's anger was implacable.

Rich in mutual regard, they sought and found consolation in reciprocated affections — and soon after there was promise of another tie, that shoidd bind their hearts together even more closely than before. Short was the season when their course of love ran smooth. An order of readiness arrived unexpectedly from the war office — the des tination of the regiment was France — and in another week a rout was received for Deal. A separation was now inevitable — and when my mother most re quired a husband's gentle attentions, the order to divide them had arrived. But the rector of her father's parish had heard of the intended embarkation, and hastened to offer the home my mother needed. Thus, cheered by " the good man's counsels," and nursed tenderly by his exceUent wife, my mother gave birth, in four months afterwards to a son —I made an entree on the world,— and commenced, as the reader may probably admit hereafter, an adventurous career.

The young soldier's history in the meantime, is shortly told. Lord Moira, despairing of effecting any good by the intended descent on Brittany, changed the direction of his force, landed at Ostend, and finaUy joined the Duke of York at Mechlin. In my father's regiment the lieut. -colonel had become sick, and the senior major retired — consequently the command had devolved upon himself— and could any thing have reconcUed the severance of young love, it woidd have been the early prospect of miUtary distinction. Major O'HaUoran proved that fortune had not vainly offered him her favours. His regiment was brigaded with the rear-guard, and on every occasion the battalion was admirably commanded. The service of retiring constantly in front of a victorious army is most discouraging, but stiU that disheartening duty was performed with a spirit deserving better fortune.

At last the Duke of York was recaUed, and for a time his successor, Count Walmoden, assumed the offensive. An attack on the Republicans at Tuyl had partial success, and my father heading the grenadier company, carried the town by assault. With that exploit his military career was prematurely closed — his left arm was fractured by a grape shot, amputated afterwards, and he returned to England invalided. The rest is briefly told. He found himself a father, and his own sire had paid the debt of nature. His health was shaken by fatigue, his wound healed slowly, and after some consideration, he retired from the army upon half pay, obtaining a colonel's rank and pension, and fixed his residence in his native country, taking possession of an ancient house, and what proved afterwards an unquiet home.

The guests who on the anniversary of my birth had honoured Knockloftie with their presence, were, different both in character and appearance. The priest was a strong-built, good-humoured, under-sized man, of jovial habits and easy disposition, careless how matters went, and consequently, Ul-adapted to repress the turbulence of a disobedient flock, who would have required the reUgious coercion of a sterner monitor. As confessor to the establishment, Father Dominic KeUy made Knockloftie his abiding place. He was of gentle blood himself, and preferred being domicUed in the house of a gentleman, to a wandering Use among the rude dwellings of a lawless community. Hence Father Dominic was by no means popular— and his influence over a wild and rebeUious people was far less extensive than that which is generaUy possessed by the Irish priesthood.

The other churchman formed a singular contrast to the burly priest He was a smaU, attenuated, inteUigent-looking personage, possessing natural courage and a restless and irascible disposition A feUow of the university, he had retired upon a coUege hving— and having obtained, unhappily for himself, a commission ofthe peace, he exercised his powers with greater zeal than discretion ; in short, he had made himself so obnoxious to the peasantry that his life was not worth a pin's fee. Like Colonel O'HaUoran, he too was doomed to death, and in the black list his name was second to that of my father A tew nights before, his glebe-house had been burnt to the ground ; ana, having escaped assassination by a miracle, he found that protection at Knockloftie, which, from a more timid proprietor, might have been sought and asked in vain. _ But there were others besides Doctor Hamilton, who during this rei<m of terror had been obUged to abandon their own homes, and elsewhere seek a shelter.

Several of the poorer farmers had given testimony in recent prosecutions which led to the conviction of an assassin, on whom the extreme penalty of the law had been justly executed. This in the eyes of his guUty companions was a crime be yond the pale of mercy, and the unfortunate men were accordingly denounced. They fled for protection to Knockloftie— there, they were now residing — and, as if the measure of my father's offendings was not already fuU, the daring act of interposing between a lawless confederacy and its victims had heaped it even to an overflow. No wonder there fore, that the fuU fury of rebel vengeance was to be turned against himself and aU whom his roof-tree covered. " WeU, WiUiam," said my mother, as she renewed a conversation which had been accidentaUy interrupted, " when you were struck down — " "My foster brother sprang from the ranks, threw away his musket, Ufted me Ughtly as even with this lone arm I would Uft you, and carried me — " " In safety from the danger ?"

" No, no, love— we had to pass through a cross fire of musketry — a baU struck him, and when he feU dead — I was in his arms." " Would," said my mother with a sigh, " that our Hector had a foster brother !" " Would that he had ! and one so faithful and devoted !" — my father drew his hand across his eyes — " this is too womanly, but — " As he was speaking, the mastiff chained in a kennel beside the haU door began to growl, and the priest rose and peeped cautiously through a shot-hole in the shutters, to ascertain what might have disturbed the dog. Nothing to cause alarm was visible — and the churchman re turned to the table, observing, that the night froze keenly. My mother had dropped her knitting on the carpet. — " What a horrid state of things," observed the lady, as she picked the worsted from the floor, " that a growl from Cæsar sets my heart beating for an hour, and a knock after dark terrifies me almost to death !"

" Thou a soldier's wife, and play the coward !" exclaimed my father. " Fear nothing, Emily; the old tower from roof to basement is secured — there is not a cranny that would admit the cat that I have not under a flanking fire — the lower windows save one are built up — I have retrenched the haU with a barricade, naUed up the back door, and the front one is enfiladed by that embrasure," — and he pointed to a window in an angle of the room, at either side of which a blunderbuss was standing ready for instant use." " Would that for one night thou and the baby were safe within the convent waUs ! then let the scoundrels come ! By Heaven ! next morning there should be more shirts* upon the lawn than were ever spread upon the bleaching ground, and the coroner should have occupation, not by single files, but by the cart-load." * The Defenders wore shirts over their clothes at. night, and hence were also called White-boys.

WhUe my father spoke, the whole scene was passing in his " mind's eye," and Defenders were dropping by the dozen. His face lighted up, and springing from the chair he waved his solitary arm, strode across the chamber, and looked with conscious pride at aU his mUitary preparations. My mother grew pale as death, and turning her eyes up she fervently ejaculated, " God forbid !" and crossed herself de voutly. The priest performed a simUar ceremony, and uttered a sin cere " Amen !" " Pshaw !" said my father, as he passed his arm round my mother's waist and kissed her tenderly ; " do not alarm yourself. This house is strong ; nothing but treachery could force it." " Beware of that," said the parson ; " for that I feared and proved. I was betrayed by the viUain who ate my bread, and saved providentiaUy by the babbling foUy of an idiot."

" Indeed !" said my mother, with an inquiring glance, as she laid her knitting down. " The tale is briefly told," said Doctor HamUton. " For some time past I suspected that my servants were disaffected. I watched them closely, and circumstances convinced me that my fears were true. I had business in the next town ; my tithe agent dared not venture out of doors, and it was imperatively necessary that I should see him. By a lane, the distance between the glebe-house and the viUage was only four miles — aU I wanted done would occupy but a few minutes — and I took, as I supposed, effectual means to enable me to accompUsh the object I had in view, and return home even before my absence was known in my treacherous household. At dusk I despatched my ser vant with a letter to the curate, and when he was out of sight I saddled a fast horse, quitted the stable by a back door, and rode off at speed for the viUage.

I was unexpectedly delayed— but as a precaution against danger, returned by another and longer road. Ni"ht had set in ; I passed through the last hamlet at a sharp trot, and, but a mUe from home, puUed up at a steep hiU that leads directly to the bridge. A lad who was running in an opposite direction stopped when he observed me coming, and I recognised him at once to be an idiot boy who occasionaUy visited the glebe-house, where he always received meat or money by my orders. As I came closer he began dancing and gabbling in a sing-song tune, " Ha, ha ! HamUton, ha, ha ! somebody wiU get his fairin. There's Dick Brady and the smi h behind the hedge, and Jack Coyne, and Patsy Gallagher, and twenty more besides, only I don't know them with their white shirts and black faces Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! somebody to-night will get his fainn !

He repeated this rhyme, and kept dancing for a few mome, ats with idiot glee, and then, under a sudden impulse, ran off towards the hamlet which I had but iust passed through." Tain an aUry growling was heard from the mastiff's kennel and the ÆriooK second time through the shot-hole. _ The nigh was clear and star-Ut, but nothing was visible from the window.^ Father Dominic resumed his seat, and Doctor Hamilton thus continued "My danger was imminent, and my resolv ition must be pro m£. I dismounted, turned my horse loose, and as I had expected, galloped off directly towards his stable. I sprang into the next field, and lay down under cover of the hedge, to consider what was the best direction that I should take to escape the blood-hounds, who doubt lessly would be soon upon my traU. " I had not been above a minute in concealment when footsteps were heard approaching rapidly from the bridge.

Two men came on at speed, and one had outstripped the other. ' Stop !' cried the hind most, ' what a devU of a hurry you are in ! I can't keep up with you.' '"I want to be in at the death,' returned the weU-known voice of my villain servant ; ' I would not miss it for a ten-pound note. He thought to give me the slip — put me on a wrong scent, and sent me with a letter. He asked me a question about bridling a horse, and that betrayed his secret. I knew there was something in the wind — doubled back upon the house after he thought me clear away — saw him go off through the back lane in a canter, and — ' Two shots were heard in quick succession. ' He's down, by ,' he exclaimed, with savage exultation. ' Run Murtaugh ! they'll be into the house in no time. I know where the money is. Run — the devil's luck to you !' and off both ruffians started.

" The rest you know. Speedily a glare of red light was seen, and a burning house — my own — guided my flight, for I took the opposite direction. I know not whether I was pursued— but, if I was the villains were unsuccessful. At midnight I reached this place of refuge, and here, for a time at least, I am safe." " What boundless treachery !" exclaimed my father, as the parson ended the narrative of his escape. " We may set an open enemy at defiance, but who can guard against secret vUlany ? By Heaven ! a dark suspicion at this moment flashes across my mind. Have you noticed the servant who waits at table ?" " I have — and as a disciple of Lavater I denounce him ; he never looks you fairly in the face." " And yet the only vulnerable point in the garrison is at that feUow's mercy. When I closed up every aperture besides, Hackett remonstrated so strongly, and pleaded the inconvenience it would cause should I buUd up the window of his pantry, that I consented to leave it open, merely adding a second shutter for security.

It is but sniaU — a man however could creep through it — but to-morrow the mason shall brick it up." " It may be fancy," said my mother, " but Hackett's manner appears lately to have undergone a change. There is at times a freedom irf his language that borders upon insolence ; but hush ! here comes the nurse." The door opened as she spoke, and I was added to the company. My mother placed me on her knee,— the parson proposed my health, — Father Dominic added a suppUcation, that " God would make me a better man than my father, and, above aU things, keep me out of con vents, —and the latter responded an amen. Every glass was emptied to the bottom— the host rang for more wine and the priest replenished his tumbler. It was a moment of hUarity, joyous and brief. Suddenly Cæsar gave the alarm — not as before, in under growls, but in the " full-mouthed diapason " of a bark audible a mUe off.

The grey hound and the terrier sprang up and answered, — I cried, frightened by the " loud alarum," — the nursemaid caught me from my mother, and hurried from the room, — whUe my father, exclaiming " a true chal lenge, by Heaven !" leaped from his chair, and placed himself before the wicket that looked upon the lawn. A minute — an anxious minute, elapsed. " I hear," said the Doctor," the footsteps of a mob, as they tread upon the frozen gravel." " Hush !" repUed my father, as he turned his ear attentively in the direction whence the noise proceeded; " that is not the movement of a mob — they step too weU together. Soldiers on march, for a hundred !" At the Colonel's observation, my mother, who had nearly fainted, graduaUy recovered courage, and left the apartment for the nursery to re-estabUsh mine, — my father remained at his post, to ascertain what the party were, who at this late hour approached his fortUage, — while Father Dominic ejaculating a pious " Heaven stand between us and evU !" turned down his tumbler to the bottom. WeU, it was only his third one, after all.

Chapter II. The

PLOT THICKENS. Now Christie's Will peep'd from the tower, And out at the shot-hole keeked he, — And, "Ever unlucky," quo' he, "is the hour, When a woman comes to speer for me." Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. In a short time " the heavy tread of marching men" ceased, as a party of ten or twelve soldiers halted immediately in front of my father's barricade. " Stand ! who goes there ?" was demanded from the loop-hole. " A friend," replied a voice, redolent of the richness of the Shannon. „ " Advance, friend, and give the countersign," returned my father, whose phraseology, from miUtary habitude, stiU retained the parlance of the camp. _..._, » " Countersign !" responded the leader of the belated wayfarers ; " devil a countersign have I but one. If my ould Colonel's above the sod, he's spakin to me now fair and asy from the windy."

"Who are you?" demanded my father. " Oh ' by Jakers, you'U hardly mind me, Colonel;— Private Phd Brady of 'number eight' when you had the regiment; but now, glory be to God and good conduct, lance-sergeant in ' number nve. " "What is your party, Brady ?" s " Upon my conscience, Colonel, a quare one, enough; tin invalids, a dyin woman, and a fine man-child." " Unclose the door, Father Dominic !" The priest Ufted a heavy key from the side-board, and proceeded to give admission to the traveUers, wheii Hackett, who had been hitherto an anxious Ustener, ventured a remonstrance. " Why not," said he, " give them meat and whisky before the door ? Every room was already crowded with idle people, whom nobody would have harmed, had they remained where they ought, — at home. If the house was to be turned into an hospital for sick trampers and their truUs, why every servant would quit a place liker a jaU than a gentleman's." Colonel O'HaUoran preserved an ominous tranquillity ; and Hackett, mistaking the cause, became more insolent as his speech proceeded without interruption.