The Red Hand of Ulster Part 28

"Of course," said Bob.

"That explains your position all right," said Bland. "But I don't quite understand the others. I should have thought--"

"The soldiers," said Bob, "have strict orders not to provoke a conflict. I met Henderson just now and he told me so. You remember Henderson, Lord Kilmore? The man I was talking to at the railway station. He'd only had two water biscuits to eat all day yesterday.

When I met him just now he told me he'd had nothing since breakfast to-day but one bit of b.u.t.terscotch. He said he wished we'd fight at once if we were going to fight and get it over."

"But the police--" said Bland, still trying to get information. "I should have thought the police--"

"They tried to arrest us," I said. "In fact they did arrest us but they let us go again."

"I dare say they'd like to arrest us," said Bob, "but you see we've all got guns."

"Ah," said Bland, "and the ordinary inhabitants of the city--?"

"They're in bed," said Bob, "and we've all agreed that they'd better stay there. n.o.body wants a riot."

"Thanks," said Bland. "If I can get my wire through I'll let the world know the exact position of affairs."

"If you are wiring," said Bob, "you might like to mention that there was jolly nearly being a fight at the gasworks. The military people got it into their heads that we intended to turn off the gas and plunge the town into darkness so as to be able to murder people without being caught. They took possession of the works and put a party of Royal Engineers in charge. Fairly silly idea! But some fool on our side--a fellow who's been dragging a quick-firing gun about the streets all day--"

"McConkey," I said. "I know him."

"I didn't hear his name," said Bob, "but he got it into his head that the Royal Engineers were going to turn off the gas so that the soldiers could make short work of us. He wanted to wipe out those engineers with his gun. I don't suppose he'd have hit them, but he'd certainly have tried if some one hadn't run and fetched Conroy. He settled the matter at once."

"How?" said Bland. "This story will be a scoop for me. I don't expect any one else knows it."

"He handed the gasworks over to the police," said Bob.

"But did that satisfy any one?" I asked. "I should have thought that both the original parties would have fallen upon the police."

"Not at all," said Bob. "The police are so much the weakest party in the town that it's plainly to their interest to keep the gas burning.

Even the man with the machine gun saw that."

I found Moyne waiting for me when I got back to the hotel. He was very depressed and took no more than a mere sip of the whisky and soda which I ordered for him. I made an effort to cheer him a little before I went to bed.

"I don't think," I said, "that there'll be a battle to-morrow."

"I am sure there will. What's to stop it?"

"The fact is," I said, "that everybody will be too exhausted to fight.

McConkey, for instance, is still hauling that field gun of his about the streets. He simply won't have strength enough left to-morrow to shoot it off. All the soldiers and all the volunteers are marching up and down. They mean to keep it up all night. I should say that you and I and three or four other sensible people who have gone to bed will have the town entirely to ourselves to-morrow."

Moyne smiled feebly.

"I wish it was all well over," he said. "I hope the Prime Minister won't be disagreeable to--. It would have been better, much better, if she'd gone to Castle Affey."

"You needn't be a bit afraid of that," I said.

This time I spoke with real a.s.surance. No man living could be disagreeable to Lady Moyne, if she smiled at him. When she left Belfast she was so much in earnest and so anxious, that she would certainly smile her very best at the Prime Minister.

"I don't know," said Moyne. "He may hold her responsible to some extent. And she is, you know. That's the worst of it, she is. We all are."

"Not at all," I said.

"Oh, but we are," said Moyne. "I feel that. I wish to goodness we'd never--"

"What I mean is that the Prime Minister won't hold her responsible.

After all, Moyne, he's a politician himself. He'll understand."

"But we said--we kept on saying--Babberly and all of us--"

Moyne was becoming morbid.

"Don't be a fool," I said. "Of course we said things. Everybody does.

But we never intended to do them. Any one accustomed to politics will understand that. I expect the Prime Minister will be particularly civil to Lady Moyne. He'll see the hole she's in."

CHAPTER XXI

I went down to the club next morning at about half-past ten o'clock, hoping to see Conroy. He, so I thought, might be able to tell me what was likely to happen during the day. Moyne could tell me nothing. I left him in the hotel, desperately determined to take the chair at any meeting that might be held; but very doubtful about how he was to do it.

The streets were much less obviously martial than they had been the night before. There were no soldiers to be seen. There were only a very few volunteers, and they did not seem to be doing anything particular. The police--there were not even many of them--looked quite peaceable, as if they had no more terrific duties to perform than the regulation of traffic and the arrest of errant drunkards. I began to think that I had accidentally told Moyne the truth the night before.

All our warriors seemed to be in bed, exhausted by their marching and counter-marching. I did not even see McConkey with his machine gun.

This disappointed me. I thought McConkey was a man of more grit. One night's work ought not to have tired him out.

c.l.i.thering was in the club. He, at all events, was still active. Very likely he was caught the night before by some patrolling party and forced to go to bed. Unless he happened to be carrying some sort of certificate of his religious faith in his pocket, Crossan would almost certainly have put him to bed. The moment he saw me he came fussing up to me.

"I'm very glad to be able to tell you," he said, "that the troops are to be kept in barracks to-day unless they are urgently required. I'm sure you'll agree with me that's a good plan."

"It depends," I said, "on the point of view you take. It won't be at all a good plan for the police if there's any fighting."

"I telegraphed to the Prime Minister last night," said c.l.i.thering; "I sent a long, detailed message--"

"I heard about that," I said, "from one of the war correspondents, a man called Bland. You rather blocked the wires, and he couldn't get his messages through."

"It was of the utmost possible importance," said c.l.i.thering, "that the Prime Minister should thoroughly understand the situation. Our original idea was that the appearance of large bodies of troops in the streets would overawe--"

"They weren't overawing any one," I said.

"So I saw. So I saw yesterday afternoon. I telegraphed at once. I gave it as my opinion that the troops, so far from overawing, were exasperating the populace. I suggested--I'm sure you'll agree with me that the suggestion was wise--in fact I urged very strongly that the troops should be kept out of sight to-day--under arms and ready for emergencies--but out of sight. I am in great hopes that the people will settle down quietly. Now, what do you think, Lord Kilmore?"

"They'll be quite quiet," I said, "if you let them hold their meeting."

"Oh, but that's impossible," said c.l.i.thering. "I quite agree with the Prime Minister there. Any sign of weakness on the part of the Government at the present crisis would be fatal, absolutely fatal. The Belfast people must understand that they cannot be allowed to defy the law."

"Then you'd better trot out your soldiers again, all you've got."