Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume Ii Part 58

"It's false! every word untrue! The man was dead at the time."

The court rebuked the interruption, and Darby went on.

"No, my lord; he was alive. But Mr. Crofts is not to blame, for he believed he was dead; and, more than that, he thought he took the sure way to make him so."

These words produced the greatest excitement throughout the court; and an animated discussion ensued, how far the testimony could go to inculpate a party not accused. It was ruled, at last, the evidence should be heard, as touching the case on trial, and not immediately as regarded Crofts. And then Darby began a recital, of which I had never heard a syllable before, nor had I conceived the slightest suspicion.

The story, partly told in narrative form, partly elicited by questioning, was briefly this.

Daniel Fortescue was the son of a Roscommon gentleman of large fortune, of whom also Crofts was the illegitimate child. The father, a man of high Tory politics, had taken a most determined part against the patriotic party in Ireland, to which his son Daniel had shown himself, on more than one occasion, favorable. The consequence was, a breach of affection between them; widened into an actual rupture, by the old man, who was a widower, taking home to his house the illegitimate son, and announcing to his household that he would leave him everything he could in the world.

To Daniel, the blow was all that he needed to precipitate his ruin. He abandoned the university, where already he had distinguished himself, and threw himself heart and soul into the movement of the "United Irish" party. At first, high hopes of an independent nation,--a separate kingdom, with its own train of interests, and its own sphere of power and influence,--was the dream of those with whom he a.s.sociated. But as events rolled on it was found, that to mature their plans it was necessary to connect themselves with the ma.s.ses, by whose agency the insurrectionary movement was to be effected; and in doing so, they discovered, that although theories of liberty and independence, high notions of pure government, may have charms for men of intellect and intelligence, to the mob the price of a rebellion must be paid down in the sterling coin of pillage and plunder,--or even, worse, the triumphant dominion of the depraved and the base over the educated and the worthy.

Many who favored the patriotic cause, as it was called, became so disgusted at the low a.s.sociates and base intercourse the game of party required, that they abandoned the field at once, leaving to others, less scrupulous or more ardent, the path they could not stoop to follow. It was probable that young Fortescue might have been among these, had he been left to the guidance of his own judgment and inclination; for, as a man of honor and intelligence, he could not help feeling shocked at the demands made by those who were the spokesmen of the people. But this course he was not permitted to take, owing to the influence of a man who had succeeded in obtaining the most absolute power over him.

This was a certain Maurice Mulcahy, a well-known member of the various illegal clubs of the day, and originally a country schoolmaster. Mulcahy it was who first infected Fortescue's mind with the poison of this party,--now lending him volumes of the incendiary trash with which the press teemed; now newspapers, whose articles were headed, "Orange outrage on a harmless and unresisting peasantry!" or, "Another sacrifice of the people to the b.l.o.o.d.y vengeance of the Saxon!" By these, his youthful mind became interested in the fate of those he believed to be treated with reckless cruelty and oppression; while, as he advanced in years, his reason was appealed to by those great and spirit-stirring addresses which Grattan and Curran were continually delivering, either in the senate or at the bar, and wherein the most n.o.ble aspirations after liberty were united with sentiments breathing love of country and devoted patriotism. To connect the garbled and lying statements of a debased newspaper press with the honorable hopes and n.o.ble conceptions of men of mind and genius, was the fatal process of his political education; and never was there a time when such a delusion was more easy.

Mulcahy, now stimulating the boyish ardor of a high-spirited youth, now flattering his vanity by promises of the position one of his ancient name and honored lineage must a.s.sume in the great national movement, gradually became his directing genius, swaying every resolution and ruling every determination of his mind. He never left his victim for a moment; and while thus insuring the unbounded influence he exercised, he gave proof of a seeming attachment, which Fortescue confidently believed in. Mulcahy, too, never wanted for money; alleging that the leaders of the plot knew the value of Fortescue's alliance, and were willing to advance him any sums he needed, he supplied the means of every extravagance a wild and careless youth indulged in, and thus riveted the chain of his bondage to him.

When the rebellion broke out, Fortescue, like many more, was horror-struck at the conduct of his party. He witnessed hourly scenes of cruelty and bloodshed at which his heart revolted, but to avow his compa.s.sion for which would have cost him his life on the spot. He was in the stream, however, and must go with the torrent; and what will not stern necessity compel? Daily intimacy with the base-hearted and the low, hourly a.s.sociation with crime, and perhaps more than either, despair of success, broke him down completely, and with the blind fatuity of one predestined to evil, he became careless what happened to him, and indifferent to whatever fate was before him.

Still, between him and his a.s.sociates there lay a wide gulf. The tree, withered and blighted as it was, still preserved some semblance of its once beauty; and among that ma.s.s of bigotry and bloodshed, his nature shone forth conspicuously as something of a different order of being. To none was this superiority more insulting than to the parties themselves.

So long as the period of devising and planning the movement of an insurrection lasts, the presence of a gentleman, or a man of birth or rank, will be hailed with acclamation and delight. Let the hour of acting arrive, however, and the scruples of an honorable mind, or the repugnance of a high-spirited nature, will be treated as cowardice by those who only recognized bravery in deeds of blood, and know no heroism save when allied to cruelty.

Fortescue became suspected by his party. Hints were circulated, and rumors reached him, that he was watched; that it was no time for hanging back. He who sacrificed everything for the cause to be thus accused! He consulted Mulcahy; and to his utter discomfiture discovered that even his old ally and adviser was not devoid of doubt regarding him.

Something must be done, and that speedily,--he cared not what. Life had long ceased to interest him either by hope or fear. The only tie that bound him to existence was the strange desire to be respected by those his heart sickened at the thought of.

An attack was at that time planned against the house and family of a Wexford gentleman, whose determined opposition to the rebel movement had excited all their hatred. Fortescue demanded to be the leader of that expedition; and was immediately named to the post by those who were glad to have the opportunity of testing his conduct by such an emergency.

The attack took place at night,--a scene of the most fearful and appalling cruelty, such as the historian yet records among the most dreadful of that dreadful period. The house was burned to the ground, and its inmates butchered, regardless of age or s.e.x. In the effort to save a female from the flames, Fortescue was struck down by one of his party; while another nearly cleft his chest across with a cut of a large knife. He fell, covered with blood, and lay seemingly dead. When his party retreated, however, he summoned strength to creep under shelter of a ditch, and lay there till near daybreak, when he was found by another gang of the rebel faction, who knew nothing of the circ.u.mstances of his wound, and carried him away to a place of safety.

For some months he lay dangerously ill. Hectic fever, consequent on long suffering, brought him to the very brink of the grave; and at last he managed by stealth to reach Dublin, where a doctor well known to the party resided, and under whose care he ultimately recovered, and succeeded at last in taking a pa.s.sage to America. Meanwhile his death was currently believed, and Crofts was everywhere recognized as the heir to the fortune.

Mulcahy, of whom it is necessary to speak a few words, was soon after apprehended on a charge of rebellion, and sentenced to transportation.

He appealed to many who had known him, as he said, in better times, to speak to his character. Among others, Captain Crofts--so he then was--was summoned. His evidence, however, was rather injurious than favorable to the prisoner; and although not in any way influencing the sentence, was believed by the populace to have mainly contributed to its severity.

Such was, in substance, the singular story which was now told before the court,--told without any effort at concealment or reserve; and to the proof of which M'Keown was willing to proceed at once.

"This, my lord," said Darby, as he concluded, "is a good time and place to give back to Mr. Crofts a trifling article I took from him the night at the barracks. I thought it was the bank-notes I was getting; but it turned out better, after all."

With that he produced a strong black leather pocket-book, fastened by a steel clasp. No sooner did Crofts behold it, than, with the spring of a tiger, he leaped forward and endeavored to clutch it. But Darby was on his guard, and immediately drew back his hand, calling out,--

"No, no, sir! I didn't keep it by me eight long years to give it up that way. There, my lords," said he, as he handed it to the bench, "there's his pocket-book, with plenty of notes in it from many a one well known,--Maurice Mulcahy among the rest,--and you'll soon see who it was first tempted Fortescue to ruin, and who paid the money for doing it."

A burst of horror and astonishment broke from the a.s.sembled crowd as Darby spoke.

Then, in a loud, determined tone, "He is a perjurer!" screamed Crofts. "I repeat it, my lord; Fortescue is dead."

"Faix! and for a dead man he has a remarkable appet.i.te," said Darby, "and an elegant color in his face besides; for there he stands."

And as he spoke, he pointed with his finger to a man who was leaning with folded arms against one of the pillars that supported the gallery.

Every eye was now turned in the direction towards him; while the young barrister called out, "Is your name Daniel Fortescue?"

But before any answer could follow, several among the lawyers, who had known him in his college days, and felt attachment to him, had surrounded and recognized him.

"I am Daniel Fortescue, my lord," said the stranger. "Whatever may be the consequences of the avowal, I say it here, before this court, that every statement the witness has made regarding me is true to the letter."

A low, faint sound, heard throughout the stillness that followed these words, now echoed throughout the court; and Crofts had fallen, fainting, over the bench behind him.

A scene of tumultuous excitement now ensued, for while Crofts's friends, many of whom were present, a.s.sisted to carry him into the air, others pressed eagerly forward to catch a sight of Fortescue, who had already rivalled Darby himself in the estimation of the spectators.

He was a tall, powerfully-built man, of about thirty-five or thirty-six, dressed in the blue jacket and trousers of a sailor; but neither the habitude of his profession nor the humble dress he wore could conceal the striking evidence his air and bearing indicated of condition and birth. As he mounted the witness table,--for it was finally agreed that his testimony in disproof or corroboration of M'Keown should be heard,--a murmur of approbation went round, partly at the daring step he had thus ventured on taking, and partly excited by those personal gifts which are ever certain to have their effect upon any crowded a.s.sembly.

I need not enter into the details of his evidence, which was given in a frank, straightforward manner, well suited to his appearance; never concealing for a moment the cause he had himself embarked in, nor a.s.suming any favorable coloring for actions which ingenuity and the zeal of party would have found subjects for encomium rather than censure.

His narrative not only confirmed all that Darby a.s.serted, but also disclosed the atrocious scheme by which he had been first induced to join the ranks of the disaffected party. This was the work of Crofts, who knew and felt that Fortescue was the great barrier between himself and a large fortune. For this purpose Mulcahy was hired; to this end the whole long train of perfidy laid, which eventuated in his ruin: for so artfully had the plot been devised, each day's occurrence rendered retreat more difficult, until at last it became impossible.

The reader is already aware of the catastrophe which concluded his career in the rebel army. It only remains now to be told that he escaped to America, where he entered as a sailor on board a merchantman; and although his superior acquirements and conduct might have easily bettered his fortune in his new walk in life, the dread of detection never left his mind, and he preferred the hardships before the mast to the vacillation of hope and fear a more conspicuous position would have exposed him to.

The vessel in which he served was wrecked off the coast of New Holland, and he and a few others of the crew were taken up by an English ship on her voyage outward. In a party sent on sh.o.r.e for water, Fortescue came up with Darby, who had made his escape from the convict settlement, and was wandering about the woods, almost dead of starvation, and scarcely covered with clothing. His pitiful condition, but perhaps more still, his native drollery, which even then was unextinguished, induced the sailors to yield to Fortescue's proposal, and they smuggled him on board in a water cask; and thus concealed, he made the entire voyage to England, where he landed about a fortnight before the trial. Fearful of being apprehended before the day, and determined at all hazards to give his evidence, he lay hid till the time we have already seen, when he suddenly came forward to my rescue.

Mulcahy, who worked in the same gang with Darby, or, to use the piper's grandiloquent expression,--for he burst out in this occasionally,--was "in concatenated proximity to him," told the whole story of his own baseness, and loudly inveighed against Crofts for deserting him in his misfortunes. The pocket-book taken from Crofts by Darby amply corroborated this statement. It contained, besides various memoranda in the owner's handwriting, several letters from Mulcahy, detailing the progress of the conspiracy: some were in acknowledgment of considerable sums of money; others asking for supplies; but all confirmatory of the black scheme by which Fortescue's destruction was compa.s.sed.

Whatever might have been the sentiments of the crowded court regarding the former life and opinions of Fortescue and the piper, it was clear that now only one impression prevailed,--a general feeling of horror at the complicated villany of Crofts, whose whole existence had been one tissue of the basest treachery.

The testimony was heard with attention throughout; no cross-examination was entered on; and the judge, briefly adverting to the case which was before the jury, and from whose immediate consideration subsequent events had in a great measure withdrawn their minds, directed them to deliver a verdict of "Not guilty."

The words were re-echoed by the jury, who, man for man, exclaimed these words aloud, amid the most deafening cheers from every side.

As I walked from the dock, fatigued, worn out, and exhausted, a dozen hands were stretched out to seize mine; but one powerful grasp caught my arm, and a well-known voice called in my ear,--

"An' ye wor with Boney, Master Tom? Tare and 'ounds, didn't I know you'd be a great man yet."

At the same instant Fortescue came through the crowd towards me, with his hands outstretched.

"We should be friends, sir," said he, "for we both have suffered from a common enemy. If I am at liberty to leave this--"

"You are not, sir," interposed a deep voice behind. We turned and beheld Major Barton. "The ma.s.sacre at Kil-macshogue has yet to be atoned for."

Fortescue's face grew actually livid at the mention of the word, and his breathing became thick and short.

"Here," continued Barton, "is the warrant for your committal. And you also, Darby," said he, turning round; "we want your company once more in Newgate."

"Bedad, I suppose there's no use in sending an apology when friends is so pressing," said he, b.u.t.toning his coat as coolly as possible; "but I hope you 'll let the master come in to see me."

"Mr. Burke shall be admitted at all times," said Barton, with an obsequious civility I had never witnessed in him previously.

"Faix, maybe you 'll not be for letting him out so aisy," said Darby, dryly, for his notions of justice were tempered by a considerable dash of suspicion.