Kilgorman Part 43

"No one, unless it's Hugh Henry at the inn below."

"Did the young lady say anything as they took her on the boat?"

"Sure, she asked to see the captain, and to know when they were to reach Dublin, and seemed to mislike the voyage altogether. But I heard Martin say it was her father's orders, and that he would be in Dublin to meet her."

This was all the news I could gather, but it was enough to confirm my worst suspicions. Leaving the old man still in doubt as to the motive for my questions, I returned as rapidly as I could to Malin, and presented myself at the inn.

"Sure, I thought you were away," said the host, who came down half- dressed to admit me.

"I want to know something about the Dutch ship that was in here overnight," said I. "Not," I added, as I noticed the conscious fall of his face, "that I care what she carried. No doubt she was a smuggler, and that you and she had your business together--"

"'Deed, sir," he began, "may the--"

"Whisht!" said I, "that will do later. Just now I must know her name, and whither bound. The young lady at the Hall has been decoyed away in her, and must be found."

His amazement convinced me that at least he had been no party to the abduction, which had probably, and wisely so, been confided to no one beyond Martin and the officials of the secret society.

"The young leddy, Mr Gorman's daughter, carried off!" and he indulged in a long whistle. "I always said his honour would get into trouble with a kittle girl like that."

"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel," shouted I, "unless you want it crammed down your throat, and tell me the ship's name and her port."

"No offence, sir," said the honest landlord, taken aback by my anger, and by the gleam of the pistol which I set down on the table--"no offence, sir. She was the brig _Scheldt_ from Rotterdam, a well-found craft that's been this way before with messages from the Irish in Holland to those at home."

With this I made once more for the Hall, where I found the household up, and in a state of anxious expectation. When they heard my story, great was the distress of the lady of the house to discover how she, in whose charge Miss Kit had been left, had been imposed upon. She implored me to wait till Mr Shannon returned from Knockowen; but as it was doubtful when that would be, such delay seemed useless.

Before I left I wrote a letter to Mr Gorman giving him all the particulars I could. He would no doubt receive an official notice from the rebels, naming their conditions for restoring their hostage. But so cowardly and shambling a creature had this father become, that I doubted very much whether he would risk much even to recover his child.

I then returned once more to the inn, where already the news of the night's adventure had attracted a group of gossips. The landlord seeing me, took me aside and handed me a paper.

"Here's a song of another tune," said he. "It was left by the Dutch skipper, and may be news to some of you."

I read it. It was a proclamation to the people of Ireland, couched in bombastic language, and stating that the hour of deliverance was at hand. A foreign fleet was about to descend on our northern coasts. Any day now the signal might be given for Ireland to rise. All was ready, and trusty leaders would accompany the friendly fleet. A strong blow well struck would end Ireland's ills for ever. And so on.

"What do I want with this?" said I, giving back the paper. "Give it to those who want it. I've had enough of the Dutch for one night."

And saddling my horse I started, in what sort of humour my readers may imagine, towards Derry.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

Save to turn my back on a region which had now become full of gloomy a.s.sociations, I had no very definite purpose in view in that morning's ride. There was nothing to be done. The mischief to her I loved was beyond recall. Even those who had made themselves the agents of this vile conspiracy had placed themselves out of reach. Tim, my own brother, was nominal chief to the hated band, and though he was absent, and would, I knew, have had no hand in this business, to denounce the whole company would be only to strike at him. From Maurice Gorman, coward and time-server, there was nothing to be hoped. Not a friend was there on whom I could count, not an enemy on whom I could have the sorry satisfaction of being revenged.

As, however, the gallop through the bracing morning air produced its natural effect, it occurred to me to offer my services, during the remainder of my leave of absence, to Captain Swift, or, should he desire it, join the _Diana_ forthwith, and try to forget my trouble in hard work.

His honour's pa.s.sport took me safely past the numerous patrols which beset my way between Malin and Derry, and which spoke much for the rigour with which the new _regime_ of martial law was being enforced.

Once or twice I was questioned as to the two ladies named in the pa.s.s, to which I replied that I was to foregather with them presently--which I devoutly wished might be true.

At Derry more than usual ceremony awaited a stranger at the gates. I was conducted to the guard-room, and there detained under a kind of friendly arrest for half-an-hour or so, until it suited the pleasure of the officer on guard to inspect me.

When this gentleman made his appearance, I recognised, not altogether with delight, my old acquaintance and supposed rival, Captain Lestrange.

He failed to recognise me at first, but when I reminded him of our last meeting in Paris, he took in who I was.

"Those were hard times," said he. "How I ever got the ladies out of that terrible city I scarcely know to this day. I see you travel on Mr Gorman's business, and escort two ladies. Where are they?"

"I wish I knew," said I, and gave him a full account of my ride to Malin and all that happened there.

He heard my story with growing attention and consternation.

"Decoyed!" he exclaimed vehemently. "The dogs shall pay for this! I remember that scoundrel Martin."

"Shall you go to Rotterdam?" said I.

"I?" said he, looking at me in surprise. "I am no man of leisure just now."

"But report says you have a particular interest in Miss Gorman's welfare."

"Rumour commits many impertinences," replied he with an angry frown.

"For all that, I am not master of my own movements just now. I am here to hunt down rebels; and among them, unless I mistake, a brother of yours holds a prominent place."

I winced.

"At least," said I, "he never had hand either in murder, or pillage, or meanness to a woman. He is an honest soldier, though, alas! on the wrong side."

Captain Lestrange laughed.

"It is the fashion of these rebels," said he, "to dignify themselves as soldiers and claim the honours of war. But when we get hold of them they will learn that there is a difference between felony and warfare.

Can you not persuade your brother out of it? I hear he is a fine fellow."

"I have tried," said I, mollified by this compliment; "but it is useless, and at present he is not to be found."

"That's the best place for him. As to Miss Gorman, I will go over to Knockowen and see if anything can be done to intercept the Dutchman.

Meanwhile what of you?"

"I go to join my ship."

"Good. We may meet again, Gallagher. Our paths have met strangely before now. Heaven grant they may bring us out into fair weather at last."

I left him on the whole in good cheer. There was a blunt frankness about him which led me to believe that were I ever to be called upon to meet Captain Lestrange as an enemy, it would be as an honest and generous one. His affected indolence had already been disproved by the service he had rendered to the ladies in Paris. His regrets as to Tim showed that he was a man in whom the kindlier instincts were not all wanting. What, however, comforted me most was his tone with regard to Miss Kit. There was nothing of the lover about the words, and too little of the actor about the man to lead me to suppose he was deluding me. Why should he? He was my superior in birth and rank. He had claims of kinship and property which pointed him out as the natural squire for the heiress of Kilgorman. The idea of my being a rival had probably never entered his head; and if it had, would have done so only to raise a smile of incredulous pity. But that a lover could receive the news I brought as he did seemed quite impossible. So I went on my way, if not cheered, at least with a less heavy weight on my mind than before.

I found Captain Swift in bed with an attack of jaundice, and in a state of high excitement.

"How did you know I wanted you?" he said when I presented myself.

"I did not, sir," said I. "Have you any orders for me?"

"A despatch has come from the Admiralty," said he, "cancelling all leave of absence. The _Diana_ being still under repair, I am appointed to the _Zebra_, now off Dublin, and ordered to sail on Sat.u.r.day to join the fleet watching the Dutch off the Texel."