The Tithe-Proctor Part 5

Several hundreds must have pa.s.sed, and when the last sounds of their tread had died away, M'Carthy and his companion left their hiding-place, when the latter addressed him as follows:--

"Now, Mr. M'Carthy, I wish you to understand that you are wid a friend--mark my words--avoid the man they call Buck English, for of all men livin' he hates you the most; and listen, whenever you come to this country don't stop in procthor Purcel's, otherwise you may draw down ruin and destruction upon him and his; and, if I'm not mistaken, you're the last man livin' who would wish to do that."

"By the way," asked M'Carthy, "who is Buck English?"

"I don't know," replied the stranger, "nor do I know any one that does."

"And may I not ask who you are yourself?"

"No--for I've good raisons for not telling you. Good-night, and mark my words--avoid that man, for I know he would give a good deal to sit over your coffin--and you in it."

We shall now allow M'Carthy to proceed to his friend's house, which he reached without any further adventure, and ask the reader to accompany the stranger, who in a few minutes overtook the body we have described, to which he belonged. They proceeded in the same way, still maintaining a silence that was fearful and ominous, for about a mile and a half.

Whilst proceeding, they met several persons on the road, every one of whom they stopped and interrogated as to his name and residence, after which they allowed them to pa.s.s on.

"Why do they! stop and examine the people they meet?" whispered one of them a young lad about nineteen--to him who had just warned McCarthy.

"Why," said the other, "is it possible you don't know that? It's aisy seen you're but young in the business yet."

"This is my first night to be out," replied the youth.

"Well, then," rejoined our friend, "it's in the expectation of meetin'

an enemy, especially some one that's _marked_."

"An' what would they do if they did?"

"_Do_? said the other; "_do for him!_. If they met sich a one, they'd take care his supper wouldn't cost him much."

"Blood alive!" exclaimed the young fellow. "I'm afeard this is a bad business."

"Faith, an' if it is, it's only beginnin'," said the other, "but whether good or bad the counthry requires it, an' the Millstone must be got rid of."

"What's the Millstone?"

"The Protestant church. The man that won't join us to put it down, must be looked upon and treated as an enemy to his country--that is, if he is a Catholic."

"I have no objection to that," replied the youth, "but I don't like to see lives taken or blood shed; murdher's awful."

"You must set it down, then," replied the other, "that both will happen, ay, an' that you must yourself shed blood and take life when it come your turn. Howanever, that will soon come aisy to you; a little practice, and two or three opportunities of seeing the thing done, an'

you'll begin to take delight in it."

"And do you now?" asked the unsophisticated boy, with a quivering of the voice which proceeded from a shudder.

"Why, no," replied the other, still in a whisper, for in this tone the dialogue was necessarily continued; "not yet, at any rate; but if it came my turn to take a life I should either do it, or lose my own some fine night."

"Upon my conscience," whispered the lad, "I can't help thinkin' that it's a bad business, and won't end well."

"Ay, but the general opinion is, that if we get the Millstone from about our necks, a few lives taken on their side, and a few boys hanged on ours, won't make much difference one way or other, and then everything will end well. That's the way of it."

This m.u.f.fled dialogue, if we may use the expression, was now interrupted by a change in their route. At a Rath, which here capped an eminence of the road, a narrow bridle-way diverged to the right, and after a gradual ascent for about a mile and a half, was lost upon a rough upland, that might be almost termed a moor. Here they halted for a few minutes, in deliberation as to whether they should then proceed across the moor, or wait until the moon should rise and enable them to see their way.

It was shortly resolved upon to advance, in order that they might lose as little time as possible, in consequence of having, as it appeared, two or three little affairs to execute in the course of the night. They immediately struck across the rough ground which lay before them, and as they did so, the conversation began to be indulged in more freely, in consequence of their remoteness from any human dwelling or the chances of being overheard. The whole body now fell into groups, each headed by a certain individual who acted as leader, but so varied were the topics of discourse, some using Irish, others the English language, that it was rather difficult to catch the general purport of what they said.

At length when a distance of about two miles had been traversed, they came out upon one of those small green campaigns, or sloping meadows, that are occasionally to be found embosomed in the mountains, and upon which the eye rests with an agreeable sense of relief, on turning to them from the dark and monotonous hue of the gloomy wastes around them.

They had not been many minutes here when the moon rose, and after a little time her light would have enabled a casual or accidental spectator to witness a fearful and startling scene. About six hundred men were there a.s.sembled; every man having his face blackened, and all with shirts over their outward and usual garments. As soon as the moon, after having gained a greater elevation in the sky, began to diffuse a clearer l.u.s.tre on the earth, we may justly say that it would be difficult to witness so strange and appalling a spectacle. The white appearance of their persons, caused by the shirts which they wore in the manner we have stated, for this peculiar occasion, when contrasted with their blackened visages, gave them more the character of demons than of men, with whom indeed their strange costume and disfigured faces seemed to imitate the possession of very little in common, with the exception of shape alone. The light was not sufficiently strong to give them distinctness, and as a natural consequence, there was upon them a dim gleamy look--a spectral character that was frightful, and filled the mind with an impression that the meeting must have been one of supernatural beings, if not an a.s.semblage of actual devils, in visible shape, coming to perpetrate on earth some deed of darkness and of horror.

Among the whole six hundred there might have been about one hundred muskets. Pistols, blunderbusses, and other arms there were in considerable numbers, but these were not available for a portion, at least, of the purposes which had brought them together.

After some preliminary preparation a light was struck, a candle lit, around which a certain number stood, so as to expose it to as little chance of observation as possible. A man then above the middle size, compact and big-boned, took the candle in one hand, and brought it towards a long roll which he held in the other. He wore a white hat with a low crown, had large black whiskers which came to his chin, and ran besides round his neck underneath. The appearance of this man, and of those who surrounded the dim light which he held was, when taking their black unnatural faces into consideration, certainly calculated to excite no other sensations than those of terror mingled with disgust.

"Now," said he, in a strong rich brogue, "let every man fall into rank according as his name is called out; and along with his name he must also repate his number whatever it may be, up until we come to a hundred, for I believe we have no more muskets. Where is Sargin Lynch?"

"Here I am," replied that individual, who enjoyed a sergeant's pension, having fought through the peninsular campaign.

"Take the lists then and proceed," said the leader; "we have little time to lose."

Lynch then called over a list until he had reached a hundred; every man, as he answered to his name, also repeated his number; as for instance,

"Tom Halloran."

"Here--one!"

"Peter Rafferty!"

"Here--two!" and so on, until the requisite number was completed, and every man as he responded fell also into rank.

Having thus got them into line, he gave them a rather hasty drill; and this being over, hundred after hundred went through the same process of roll-call and manoeuvre, until the task of the night was completed, so-far, at least, as that particular duty was concerned. Other duties, however, in more complete keeping with their wild and demon-like appearance, were still to be performed. Short rolls were called, by which selections for the a.s.semblage of such as had been previously marked down for the robbery of arms, were made with considerable prompt.i.tude. And, indeed, most of those to whom, such outrageous and criminal attacks wera a.s.signed, seemed to feel flattered by being appointed to the performance of them.

At length, when these matters were, arranged, and completed, the whole body was ordered to fall into rank, and the large-man, who acted as leader, walked for a times up and down in front of them, after which, as nearly opposite their centre as possible, he deliberately knelt down, and held his two open palms across each other for some seconds, or perhaps for half a minute.

A low fearful murmur, which no language could describe, and no imagination conceive--without having heard it, ran along the whole line.

Whether it proceeded from compa.s.sion or exultation, or a blending of both mingled with horror and aversion, or a diabolical, satisfaction, it is difficult or rather absolutely impossible to say. The probability is, however, that it was made up of all these feelings, and that it was their unnatural union, expressed under such wild and peculiar circ.u.mstances, that gave it the impressive and dreadful effect wo have described.

"What does he mane?" said some of the youthful and inexperienced portion of them, in the accustomed whisper.

"There's a death to take place to-night," replied an older member; "there's either a man or family doomed, G.o.d knows which!" He then arose, and going along the front: rank, selected by name twenty-four individuals, who were made to stand in order; to one of these he whispered the name and residence of the victim; this one immediately whispered the secret to the person next him, who communicated it in his turn, and thus it went round until the last had received it. This being accomplished, he stood apart from the appointed murderers, and made them all, one after another, whisper to him the name and residence as before.

"Now," said the leader, "it's my duty to tell you that there's a man to be done for tonight; and you must all know his crime. He was warned by us no less than four times not to pay t.i.the, and not only that, but he refused to be sworn out to do so, and wounded one of the boys that wor sent by me one night to swear him. He has set us at defiance by publicly payin' his t.i.thes to a man that we'll take care of some o' these nights.

He's now doomed, an' was tried on the last night of our meetin'. This night he dies. Them that has his life in their hands knows who he is an'

where they'll find him. Once and for all then this night he dies. Now, boys, such of you as have nothing to do go home, and such of you as have your work before you do it like men, and don't draw down destruction on yourselves by neglectin' it. You know your fate if you flinch.--I have done."

Those who were not on duty, to use a military phrase, returned across the moors by the way they came, and consequently reached the bridle road we have spoken of, together. Such, however, as were set apart for the outrages and crimes of the night, remained behind, in order that the peculiar destination of their atrocities might be known only to the individuals who were appointed to perpetrate them.

On their return, our unknown friend, who had rendered such an essential service to M'Carthy, thus addressed his companion--that is to say, the man who happened to be next him,--

"Well, neighbor, what do you think of this night's work?"

"Why, that everything's right, of coorse," replied the other; "any man that strives to keep the Millstone about our necks desarves his fate; at the same time," he added, dropping his voice still lower, "I'd as soon not be the man to do the deed, neighbor."