We trust that we have not omitted here the name of any officer present at Ridgeway. If it should ever appear that we have done so, it will be a source of great pain to us, although we can plead in apology that every effort was made on our part to procure a complete list.
Seeing that there was not much to be made out of Fort Erie, the two comrades, Black Jack and the Kid, moved cautiously in the rear of the troops as they fell down the river; their intention being to remain concealed in the vicinity of any point at which an engagement might take place, and then trust to chance for an opportunity of rifling the dead or picking up whatever spoils happened to drop in their way. While deliberating upon this creditable resolve, about noon, as they had made a detour and pushed ahead of the troops, who were going into camp, their attention was arrested by the noise of some vehicle coming up a side road across which they were wending their way. In the course of a few moments they discovered that it was the wagon of Wilson, driven by that worthy, in the direction of the village of Waterloo; he evidently not having, as yet, heard of the Province being invaded. Immediately a conference took place between the three friends, when it was agreed that Wilson’s wagon should be concealed in a wooded hollow close by, and that it should be made the receptacle of whatever plunder might be secured during the struggle that they all felt must soon take place. Consequently, the team was turned aside, and, after being unhitched, was secured in a close clump of trees, that was not likely to be visited by any persons in the vicinity; and more particularly so, when the country was now being alarmed throughout, and people were securing themselves in their habitations.
After this being arranged, and the horses fed and watered, the party again sallied forth towards the main road, with a view to getting as near as was safe to the camp of the invaders, and gleaning some information as to their future movements. They had been hovering about in this way for some time, when they came to a point where two roads met, and where they perceived two wagons in which were a number of people, all standing and reconoitering something, in alarm or surprise, through a field-glass, which they were passing from one to the other. At a glance the trio saw that these persons were Canadians; and, fearing nothing, they made instantly towards them, and as though in ignorance of what had taken place, made inquiries as to what they were inspecting.
While engaged in conversation upon this point, and learning that those in the wagons were observing a body of armed men who were moving at some distance from them, but whom they could not identify as either friends or foes, the whole party perceived an officer riding towards them with the greatest apparent coolness and confidence. On coming up, he informed them that the body of men in the distance were some volunteers who were not very well acquainted with the roads about there, and that he would feel obliged if they would just drive down and give the commanding officer whatever information was in their power upon the subject of the best route to be taken to a certain point, naming it. To this request they all gladly acceded, the Kid and Jack not daring to say a word, and not one of them suspecting anything from the peculiar uniform of the officer; from the fact that they were not aware the hat indicated that he did not belong to any Canadian force; believing, as they did, that the uniforms of the volunteers were of various descriptions. When, however, they arrived at the point where the men were stationed, they quickly found out their mistake, and, to their utter consternation, were all made prisoners, Wilson and his two companions included. The body that made this capture was a reconnoitering force commanded by Col. John Hoy; and no sooner was it made, than the prisoners and the two wagons were at once forwarded under an escort to O’Neill’s camp, where, on the Kid and Black Jack being recognized as belonging to Buffalo, they were released at once; the others being held for a short period with a view to gaining some information from them, relative to the movements or whereabouts of the enemy, of which, as it subsequently turned out, they knew nothing whatever.
This introduction to the camp was considered fortunate by the Kid and his comrade, who now, on being acknowledged by some of the men who knew nothing of their real character, seemed anxious to remain under the protection of the Irish flag until, as they stated, they could effect their escape across the river; as they now averred that, should they attempt to regain Buffalo alone, they could not fail to fall into the hands of the Canadian forces, who, it was rumored, were gathering on every side of the Fenian army, with the design of surrounding it and cutting off its retreat. This all seemed natural and reasonable enough; and more particularly as the two villains asserted that they were on their way to Chippewa on business of importance, but should now get back to their home as soon as practicable; they not having had any idea that the invasion was about to take place; and having crossed to the Canadian side early the evening before; that finding they could not get any one to recross the river with them, as things stood, they thought it better to keep in the wake of the army until they had reached some point where they could effect a crossing; not wishing to entrust themselves to the people of Fort Erie, after the troops had evacuated that place, as they felt certain that the inhabitants regarded them as Fenians, and would treat them as such if an opportunity was afforded them to do so.
During the day nothing of interest transpired, until towards evening, when Barry, with two of his old comrades and four others of his company, who were thoroughly acquainted with the locality, were despatched from the camp, as were similar squads in other directions, to make reconnoissances of the enemy, if they were anywhere near the main body of the army. After proceeding cautiously for a couple of miles, and pausing, from time to time, to reconnoitre, on gaining the verge of a small piece of wooded land, they suddenly found themselves almost face to face with ten or twelve armed soldiers, in British uniform, who seemed to be an outpost lying in wait among some pine shrubs, on the opposite side of a narrow ravine. Fortunately for our hero, he was the first to discover the red coats, upon whom the sun was pouring its declining rays, revealing them to the green coats, while at the same time it dazzled and obscured their vision, from the fact that the light flashed full in their faces, while it fell on the backs of their advancing adversaries. A few hundred yards towards the upper end of the ravine, there was a small patch of wood, through which Barry instantly determined to move towards the point occupied by the enemy; hoping to be able to surprise them before they were aware of his proximity. This manoeuvre was accomplished rapidly, and with the utmost caution; but as an open space yet intervened between him and them, when he had gained the verge of the grove, he determined to remain under cover, with a view to ascertaining the strength of the force he might have to cope with; not knowing but it was larger than it seemed to be from the opposite side of the glen.
Here, however, he had scarcely halted when he was discovered by the enemy, who took alarm; but, after a moment’s pause, during which a good deal of coolness was observed amongst their ranks, they deliberately poured a volley into the grove where he and his little band stood under shelter, although discernible among the trees. No sooner had the music of the bullets ceased, and as a full view was had of the force of the enemy, than the Fenians dashed across the open space already mentioned, and charged in a spirited manner, although received by the foe with the utmost intrepidity, and an evident intention to work some mischief before they retired from the spot. Barry, however, instructed his little band not to fire until within a few yards of their antagonists, who were now coolly reloading; so, before the redcoats were again prepared to give another volley, one simultaneous crash of the Fenian rifles threw them into momentary confusion; and, the next instant, both parties were closely engaged in a life and death struggle.
The fire of the Fenians had made sad havoc amongst the small force, which was now cut down to the proportions of that of their own; still those that remained never swerved an inch, but joined with their adversaries, hip and thigh. There was but one volley fired on either side; and, now that the shrubbery was so thick and withal so inconveniently high, both parties had recourse to their side arms to decide the day. Hand to hand, and desperately they fought, without much indication of the mortal strife, save the low groan of the dying and the thick breathing of those who struggled upon the green sward among the roots of the young pines that so thickly studded the place. Already had Barry silenced forever the pulses of more than one of his antagonists, when their leader, a powerful man of about thirty-five, made a sudden bound towards him, after having in turn brought his own assailant to the ground, and instantly both their swords were crossed, as they stood, alone, in an open space of a few feet square, while the deadly conflict still half silently raged around them among the three or four who now survived to battle for their respective flags.
Barry, although but a private soldier when in the British service, was regarded as one of the best swordsmen in his regiment. In fact, he was that sort of person who took delight in excelling in every military exercise, so that his task-masters should have no grounds for wounding his feelings or his pride in any matter connected with the discipline of a soldier. So skillful was he in this connection, that the moment he caught sight of the manner in which his enemy grasped his weapon, he looked for but one issue touching the encounter, and that was, the probable destruction of both. He felt that he had an antagonist before him worthy the occasion, and braced himself for the work with all the energy of his being. Swift as lightning, both weapons flashed in the sunlight, and the next instant lay pressing uneasily against each other in mid-air; forming a shifting and glittering arch of death, beneath which either its crimson or emerald pillar was soon to fall in ensanguined ruins. Not a word was spoken on either side; each believing that his hour or that of the other had come! The conflict in the surrounding shrubbery had already almost ceased. Brief as the period was, the remaining few of the enemy were vanquished and soon had fled, pursued by a victorious two or three, being scarcely themselves more than that number, having suffered severely, although they fought with great bravery. It was the seven hundred years of hate and the red blood of Ireland, that decided the conquest for so far in favor of the green; and now, face to face, with lips compressed and glaring eye, stood the two representatives of the individual antagonisms, which had been pitted against each other for ages, and which never can breathe in peace the same vital air. As if understanding, thoroughly, the power, agility and skill of his antagonist, the opponent of Barry, who was an Englishman by birth, and had been in the British service, never sought for a moment to gain any advantage of the ground. In this relation, he seemed satisfied to fight his adversary on equal terms; being well aware that a single move might be fatal, inasmuch as it could not fail to distract his attention to some extent from his watchful enemy. The sward sloped down rapidly to the ravine; so that he who occupied the most elevated position would have his adversary at an advantage; but, although this conviction was impressed upon the minds of both, neither seemed anxious to avail himself of it; and thus they stood upon equal terms, in every way antagonists worthy of each other. In height, the Englishman had it somewhat in his favor; but, then, not above an inch or so; while Barry, in agility and compactness, seemed to be vastly his superior. And such they were, when the first thrust and parry told that the work had begun. This was immediately succeeded by a furious clashing, that evidenced a rising tempest of anger in the breast of either, or both, and which gave promise of being speedily followed by some fatal stroke that was sure to terminate the encounter. During this ominous flurry, Barry stood on the defensive, coolly eyeing his brave adversary, and watching for the unguarded moment when he could either kill or disarm him; but this was not so easily found, as the Englishman was every inch a soldier and a superb swordsman; and Barry knew it well.
Notwithstanding the violence of the attack, so adroitly was it met, and so firmly was it withstood, that our hero never gave way a hair’s breadth of ground, or suffered a single scratch; and now only, in reality, the murderous conflict commenced. The Englishman perceiving that our hero was not to be moved or thrown off his guard for an instant, became more fully satisfied that he had a dangerous antagonist to deal with, and so commenced to be himself more cautions and guarded. Seeing that mere personal strength availed him but little, he fell back on his admirable swordsmanship and fought with coolness the most undaunted. Barry now, in turn, became the assailant, and pressing his antagonist with great skill and courage, gave him a slight flesh wound, followed rapidly by another in the sword arm, from which the blood began to flow copiously. Perceiving that the conflict must be decided at once, as he should soon become faint from loss of blood, once more the red coat became the assailing party; but this time, as he was pressing our hero, but somewhat more feebly than before, his foot caught beneath the tough, fibrous roots of one of the pine shrubs by which they were surrounded, and the next instant he was thrown headlong towards Barry, while his sword flew out of his hand far beyond his reach.
The fight was over; and fortunate it was for the prostrate soldier that it was brought to so singular a determination; for, from the manner in which he was bleeding, if from nothing else, the day was sure to be decided in Barry’s favor. Regaining his feet, as soon as possible, he looked aghast for a moment, as if expecting his death blow; but found his antagonist not only presenting him his sword, but begging him not to continue the conflict, as from his wound he was in no situation to keep it up longer with any show of success.
“By my faith,” he replied in return, “I believe, under any circumstances, the fates were against me; so, understanding what is due to a brave man, keep my sword and find me some water, as I begin to feel a little shakey about the knees.”
Just at the foot of the slope, and but a few yards distant, there was a brook, to which our hero now led his prisoner, and where, after bathing his temples and bandaging his wound with a handkerchief, he left him for a moment to look after those who might need his aid more urgently, hard by. He found, after all, that but one of his party was killed, although two others, who managed to creep in amongst the shrubbery, were severely wounded. Not knowing how the contest was going, and seeing themselves completely hors de combat, they waited in silence the result, fearing to call out, lest the enemy might be upon them and despatch them. The red coats suffered most severely; six of their number having been killed outright. Strange to say, however, that there appeared to have been none of them simply wounded; for, although groans were heard to proceed from the point where they lay, they must have been uttered in their death agonies, so mortal was the damage dealt them.
When this much was ascertained, Barry was deliberating as to what had become of the remaining three of his party, when they returned to the scene of conflict, weary with a fruitless chase. These men instantly took up their comrades and bore them down to the brook, where they were refreshed with a cooling draught. Barry, finding that it would be dangerous for them to remain to bury the dead, as the noise of their rifles might have attracted the attention of some other body of the enemy that might possibly be somewhere in the vicinity of the ravine, determined to retrace his steps at once. His two wounded companions, like his prisoner, were able to walk slowly towards the camp; so, collecting the enemy’s dead into one place, and covering them with branches of evergreens, they took up the body of their fallen comrade and, placing it on a litter hastily formed of boughs gathered on the spot, slowly wended their way with it towards the point occupied by the main body of the army—Barry and his prisoner moving in the same direction, some distance in the rear.
In the morning that Greaves visited the Fort in Canada, garrisoned by Barry’s regiment, it will be remembered that he had a brief interview with the Colonel. Momentary as it was, however, it was sufficient to prevent Barry from getting his discharge; for the Colonel was then and there apprised that our hero sought to leave the army for the purpose only of joining the anticipated Fenian invasion, giving it the advantage of his military skill, and aiding it with his knowledge of the fortifications that the invaders might attempt to posses themselves of. On being persuaded, through a glance at a certain document placed in his hands, that Greaves was to be trusted, he at once decided as to the course that he himself ought to pursue, and the reader has already seen the result. Strange as it may appear for the present, it was Greaves’ object to induce Barry to desert, and thereby shut himself out from ever revisiting the British dominions again. He felt that it would be better, too, that he should not be taken while in the act of deserting; as his punishment could be but light, owing to the circumstance, that he had endeavored, though in vain, to obtain his discharge honorably; so he determined to aid his escape from the Fort, and secure his outlawry beyond any possibility of mistake. Why he was prompted to an act so gratuitous and so apparently undeserved, remains for future explanation; but, at present, all we have to do with is the simple fact, that owing to his mysterious machinations, our young hero was driven to the step he had taken.
It is, we perceive, a fact, that O’Brien was correct in his first estimate of Greaves; as that smooth-tongued traitor was the notorious spy in the pay of the English government, sent out to Canada with a view to learning the particulars of the power and intentions of Fenianism in the Provinces, as well as in the adjoining Republic. In this connection, he had such papers in his possession as recommended him to the Canadian Minister who gave him, on his arrival in the city where we first encountered him, such assistance and direction as his maudlin state of mind could afford. He recommended him to the confidence of many persons in the upper part of the Province, where he had been staying for some time previous to his appearance at The Harp. Among these was the Hon. J. R——-, of Toronto—a Patrick’s Day Son of the Sod, who has often nailed Ireland to the cross for place and power; and who regards every body as his “dear friend” who can help him up the ladder—a man with no more human flesh about his bones or heart within him, than is possessed by the veriest skeleton that has ever served the purposes of a college of surgeons, after having reposed for a whole generation in the silence of the grave. Oh! how we long for the day when we shall meet such miserable Judases face to face, and spit upon them before the nations; and how willing we are to admit that we should rather tomorrow shake the manly hand of the English Joe Sheard of Toronto, open enemy and all as he is, than touch the vile, clammy paw of such repulsive creatures as compose the snake-like breed of which this same paltry and sordid trimmer is a true representative. Of course, Greaves and he understood each other at once—they were both traitors alike; only that the former was lavish of money in attaining his nefarious ends, while the latter would crawl to whatever goal he had in view, through any description of filth provided it would obviate the necessity of relaxing his gripe upon his ill-gotten gain. It is to such men as he, that Ireland owes all her misfortunes, and that the people of Canada owe the curse of the great embarrassments that now sorely beset them. For so far, not a single Irishman who has ever been prominently identified with the Government of Canada, if we are at all able to judge, has possessed a spark of honest or true patriotism. From first to last, every man Jack of them has fleeced the poor Canucks unmercifully, and played the toady to England in the most fulsome and sickening manner. Even the best of them were rotten to the core, and but mere adventurers. Look at the case of the “Hyena,” as he was called in his prime. One day we find him out at the elbows peddling samples of wine around the Province, and the next, wallowing in wealth through his Point Levi and other gouges at the expense of the people; until, at last, he became sufficiently corrupt for England to send him to take charge of her interests in one of her dependencies: where, as it is asserted, he, from time to time, is carried from boating parties, etc., to his palatial residence dead drunk, in open daylight. But why spend a single breath in referring to such miserable specimens of humanity? The world knows what they are; and Canada ought to have some slight acquaintance with them: as they built her into the worthless Grand Trunk at a ruinous figure, and, like her present, leading, political juggler, Sir John A., fleeced her in every direction that a collop could be cut out of her.
It was amongst such tricksters, English, Irish and Scotch, that Greaves, for the most part, moved secretly from the moment of his arrival in the Province up to the date at which we find him at Port Colborne. He was, however, surprised to learn that men so high in power, and that had been so high in power, really knew so little of the great impending movement which overshadowed the Provinces and bid fair to wrest them from the hands of England. But few papers in Upper Canada appeared to know anything of what was really going on in this relation, besides the Globe, of Toronto. Nearly all the others, like the leader of the government and his satellites, seemed to be at sea upon the subject. This fact Greaves took care to mention in the dispatches which he sent home to Ireland, from time to time; giving it as his opinion, that the Prime Minister of Canada was a dangerous man to entrust with any large interests, civil or military.
How the spy had become possessed of the letter or paper which so staggered O’Brien, is easily accounted for. One of the Organization in Ireland, named Greaves, who had been purchased by the government while on a mission of trust, and who had sworn his way into the Brotherhood with a view to making merchandise of it, gave up his credentials for a certain sum; and thus it was that they had fallen into the hands of the Castle of Dublin and subsequently into those of the spy. Cunning as O’Brien was, the spy read his connection with the Organization through exhibiting this document to him on the morning succeeding the night of our first introduction to The Harp; for he perceived, at once, that were O’Brien not, is some way, identified with the Brotherhood, he would have been unable to recognize the meaning of certain expressions contained in the paper, which, as already observed, seemed to impress him so suddenly and so forcibly.
Now, however, that the Provinces were actually invaded, Greaves, as we shall yet continue to call him, found that his mission had suddenly been brought to a close. As the cat was out of the bag, however, he instantly turned his undivided attention to some private matters of his own, and which, after all, was the only thing that induced him to move so rapidly west, after the escape of Barry and his comrades from the Fort. But with all his deeply laid schemes, he began to feel a strange presentiment that he had overreached himself, and that, notwithstanding the supposition that he had shut out our hero from Canada for all time to come, it was more than likely he was in the Province again, and that, too, as an invader, and but a very short distance from the village in which he now found himself. This surmise maddened him, for reasons to be disclosed in due course; and, as if urged by some unseen power, he was determined to make his way towards the camp of the invaders; well knowing that had Barry joined it, he would vouch for his friendliness; while, had he not re-entered the Province, he himself could make his way among the Brotherhood as a friend, by the same means that he had stepped into the good graces, or rather escaped the detection, of O’Brien.
Early on the morning of the second of June, then, he set out from Port Colborne, with a force under the command of Lieut. Col. Booker, anxious to witness, and if necessary, take part in the first encounter between the invaders and the Provincial troops. How did he know—perhaps a chance bullet fired by himself might find its billet in the heart of Barry, had the latter joined the Fenians; and if it did, then all would be right, and his triumph secured. Still he had his misgivings as to the success of the Canadians, notwithstanding their reputed superior numbers, and the presence of the regulars to strengthen and inspirit the volunteers. He saw that all was uncertainty and confusion. Col. Peacock, of the 16th regulars, chief in command of the united forces, was at “sixes and sevens” with the commanding officer of the volunteers, while General Napier, commanding the regular troops in the whole of Upper Canada, was so perplexed with rumors of invasion at various points, as to be absolutely lost in a maze of bewilderment, and utterly incapable of meeting the crisis in a soldierly and intelligent manner.
Thus the confusion ran amongst the Canadians, when Col. Booker, on the morning just alluded to, set out with his command from Port Colborne, to attack the Irish Republican forces, encamped at Newbiggin’s Farm, and with the further intention of forming a junction with the regulars under Col. Peacock, coming from Chippewa—the invaders being absolutely hemmed in on all sides; as a steamer with a field battery occupied the river in their rear, with a view to cutting off their retreat, when they were, as it was expected they should be, defeated by the large number of forces that were being steadily brought down upon them.
Arriving at the village of Ridgeway, the troops left the cars and proceeded cautiously in the direction of Stevensville, at or near which point they hoped to form the junction with Col. Peacock, who was on his way from Chippewa, where he had bivouacked the night before. The village of Ridgeway is on the line of the Grand Trunk Railway, which connects it with Port Colborne on Lake Erie on the one side, and Fort Erie on the same lake, at the mouth of the Niagara River, on the other. It is situated about eleven miles from the former place, and something like eight from the latter; leaving the extreme points distant from each other about nineteen miles. At this little place, then, Lieut. Col. Booker found himself, in command of a force which has been variously estimated at from twelve to eighteen hundred men, composed of the crack volunteers of the country, and, as a general thing, commanded by brave and experienced officers. It has, however, been asserted by some that there were not more than one thousand British engaged at Ridgeway; but we fear that this is under the mark, and are inclined to believe, that, at an honest computation, their force amounted to between thirteen and fourteen hundred. This we give on what we consider to be reliable authority, and can, at once, presume that the division under Col. Booker stood something more than three to one against the invaders, as the handful under the gallant O’Neill did not exceed four hundred on the actual field of Ridgeway.
Stevensville lies in the direction of Chippewa, on a wagon road branching off at right angles from the Grand Trunk at Ridgeway village, and here it was that Col. Peacock ordered Col. Booker to meet him, with the men under his command, with the design of forming a junction and attacking O’Neill with a combined force of volunteers and regulars amounting to between two and three thousand men. This junction O’Neill was determined to defeat, and did defeat it;—but let us not anticipate.
When Greaves stepped from the cars at Ridgeway, the first man he encountered was the Kid; and, strange as it may appear, a sign of recognition passed between them instantaneously. In a few moments they managed to extricate themselves from the crowds that thronged the place, and move off to an unfrequented spot, where they could converse unheard and unobserved. Here they were soon engaged on a subject which seemed to excite Greaves to the highest pitch, and elicit from him sundry ejaculations of surprise mixed with anger. Becoming cooler, however, he led his companion into a spot even more sequestered, and then fell into a low and earnest conversation with him, in which the name of Barry might be heard pronounced with a deadly, hissing vehemence, indicative of the most frightful passion and hate. All this time the Kid remained quite calm, answering the interrogatories of his employer, for such Greaves appeared to be, until, at last, the plot or contract, whatever it was, was completed, and the parties had again bent their steps to the railway station by different paths.
Had the gallant O’Neill two thousand men at his command on the morning of the 2d of June, 1866, with the certainty of reinforcements, Canada would, ere this, have been part and parcel of the United States, and Ireland an independent Republic, modeled after that of the American Union. No officer was better calculated to accomplish the overthrow of British power in the Dominion, than he. A thorough and practiced soldier—a man of great personal courage and daring, and above all, a genuine Celt, fired with the hereditary hatred of England so characteristic of his name and race, he was in himself a host. With two thousand men, composed of such stuff as he commanded at Ridgeway, he could have swept the road before him to Toronto; for there can be no doubt that his numbers would have been largely augmented on the way by Irish Nationalists and American sympathisers, who then, as now, pine for annexation. In addition, when it became once known, that a victorious army of the Republic of Ireland was marching on Toronto, a demonstration favorable to the invaders would have been made in that city, or such indications of friendship evinced by the Irish portion of the inhabitants, as would paralyze the energies of all those within its borders who were determined to stand by the flag of the tyrant. This, we are certain, would have been the real result of a march upon that city; for, all that thousands upon thousands of the people of Canada, who are now muzzled by the government, require at any moment to range them on the side of Ireland, is the assurance of success on the part of any invader, whether Irish or American, who makes a descent upon their shores. What a dreadful calamity, then, it was, that the War Department of the Irish Republic had fallen into such careless or incompetent hands, and that some man was not at its head who could have managed to have thrown upon Canadian soil, at Fort Erie and one or two other points, a force to act separately or in conjunction with sufficient effect to completely paralyse all opposition in Western Canada, among an already excited and incongruous host, who could have been easily swept before a compact handful of troops fired by a spirit so lofty and a resolve so unconquerable as that which actuated the brave little band of patriots who have made the 2d day of June, 1866, famous in the annals of the Irish race on this continent and on the other side of the Atlantic.
Let it be thoroughly understood, that although the fortress of Quebec is considered the Gibraltar of this continent, it is in the midst of an Irish and French population absolutely hostile to British rule. The French, like the children of Ireland, never were and never can be loyal to England; and there are but few men in Lower Canada to-day, who would not rather see the American flag floating over Cape Diamond at the present moment, than the blood-stained standard which proclaims it in the grasp of a tyrant. From this we infer, that had Toronto, Kingston and Montreal fallen into the hands of the invaders, Quebec could not fail to soon follow; and then for the fitting out of Irish Republican privateers that would requite all the depredations of the Alabama ten-fold, and cripple the commerce of England, as she had destroyed that of the United States during the last war. General O’Neill had all this in his eye, and was ready to push the case to the mouth of the St. Lawrence, and there commence active operations against the merchant service of the common enemy of both Ireland and America; sweeping it from the high seas, and striking the tyrant in her Counting House, as one of her most vulnerable points. There could have been no difficulty in managing all this, had a sufficient force been thrown into the Province at the time already mentioned; nor can it be attended with much difficulty at any moment, provided the right men are placed at the head of the Fenian War Department. Canada is doomed, whomsoever her conqueror may be; so the sooner her people experience the change which is sure to overtake her, the sooner shall she be restored to internal peace, prosperity and security; from all of which she is now excluded, and must remain so, as long as she continues part and parcel of the British Empire.
As by this time, the invading army had been in the Province for a portion of two days and two nights, the country generally was pretty well excited; but particularly in and about the section where the invaders had taken up their position, as well as along the line of Col. Peacock’s march. Still there did not appear any very marked disposition on the part of the actual settlers in these quarters to take a decided part in stemming the invasion. It appears to us, that it was simply the government that moved through agencies, in this connection, which could not well disregard or resist their commands, rather than any antagonistic, out-spoken sentiment of the people, that had developed itself into active hostility against the Fenian forces. Be this as it may, the numbers hastily brought against the invaders were large in comparison with their own rank and file; and had they been actuated by a spirit similar to that which made a host of each individual Fenian, the fortunes of the day could not have failed to have been otherwise than they subsequently turned out to be. Again, let it be understood, that the majority of the little band who withstood the tempest shock at Ridgeway, were fresh from the fields of the South and used to the song of the bullet and the roar of artillery, as the great bulk of the army of the Irish Republic in America is to-day; while even the British regulars who were marching on Ridgeway were, with all their pretensions, but feather-bed soldiers who were totally out of practice of the real field, and had for many a day exhibited their pluck and discipline at general reviews or sham battles only. This we hold to weigh heavily on the side of the Irish National forces, and to decide in their favor, in advance, in any fight with treble their number of such an enemy—that is, we are of the fixed impression, that any hundred picked men from the force now under the gallant O’Neill, will beat, in open fight, any three hundred of the British army brought against them, all things being equal, with the exception of numbers. And why?—simply because in one case the belligerents would be fighting for the traditions and independence of the land of their love, while in the other they would, as a general, thing, be fighting for about six-pence a day.
As soon as Colonel Booker and his command took the road towards Stevensville, Greaves, who was as daring as a man could be, and who was besides well acquainted with military tactics, procured a rifle, a soldiers jacket, cap and accoutrements, and started forth in the wake of the volunteers, with the rear guard of which he soon came up. The accoutrements he wore belonged to one of the volunteers who, like many of the men under Colonel Peacock, took suddenly ill as they approached the Fenian lines, and fell out of the ranks. Fortunately for the spy, he found in this guard the very comrade of the man who was left behind at the village, and having received permission from the officer in charge, fell into the ranks with him and held on his way, as though he were an ordinary member of the force.
On the other hand, the Kid, on parting with Greaves, took his way in the direction in which he knew the invaders were slowly and cautiously moving, in order to get between Booker and Peacock, and defeat one command before it could form a juncture with the other. On approaching their lines, the steady tramp of which he could hear, he fell rapidly in the rear, where, true to their instincts, he found Black Jack and Wilson following in the team of the latter at a respectable distance, and anxiously waiting for the first volley that should give intimation that an engagement had commenced.
“By ——,” exclaimed Wilson, as his acquaintance jumped into the wagon, “this is coming to rather close quarters.”
“If so be,” replied Jack, “as there vos henny har tillery in the vay, it might urt the missuses jam pots, seein as ‘ow we can’t be much hover a mile from them, from this ‘ere place.”
“Scarcely that,” returned the Kid, “and what’s more, from the course the Fenians are taking, they must soon be into it against three or four times their number, and serve them right; but what luck have you had during the night?” he continued, turning to Jack, “although I suspect there was not much chance in the direction in which you spent it.”
“Call this a hinvasion?” retorted Jack, “vy these coves ‘av only a come hover to show their good breedin and spend their money amongst the Canadians, instead of doin the decent thing like as ow it vos done in Hindia and the Peninsoola, veh the real harmy cut, burned and plundered hall afore ‘em, ‘and carried hoff, from old and young, bags of the most precious svag. This is disgustin. Honly fancy the fellows a behavin as if they vos on knight herranty of the hancient times, instead of givin a cove a chance of to do a little business among the walluables of Fort Erie, or hany hother place in the wicinity. I tell ‘ee what, Kid, I’m sorry as vee hever comed hover—that I be; and I vish I vos veil back again behind my hown counter.”
“Don’t be down-hearted,” replied the Kid, “for there will be fun somewhere soon, when these invaders will have to fall back on Fort Erie, where there may be a muss, or else the Canadians will have to retreat towards the village I have but recently left, so that in either case there may yet be a chance to throw something into the bottom of the wagon, and then in our turn fall back on friend Wilson’s, here.”
In this way the conversation was continued, while the horses moved slowly along the road taken by the invaders, and at such a distance from the rear of the force, as not to be visible to any of the soldiers; until, just as the three companions we’re passing through a patch of woods about a quarter of a mile from the rear guard of the invaders, they were suddenly startled by the report of firearms in the direction of the troops, just ahead of them. This report was followed by another, and yet another, and now by one continuous volley. The famous battle of Ridgeway had commenced!
Kate McCarthy, after having heard the disclosure of Martha, regarding the character of her uncle, and the dangerous and nefarious practices in which he and Smith, or the Kid, were engaged, arrived, by degrees, at the conclusion, that she was the victim of some horrible and mysterious plot, in which Nicholas, too, was involved unconsciously. This idea having taken full possession of her, she immediately communicated it to her friend, who also seemed to share her apprehension. Of course, she had no means of accounting for the existence of the talisman upon which, at the time she received it, she could have staked her life; but, now, it was too plain, that even about this there was something strange and unsatisfactory; because, from her frequent inspection of it, although it had evidently come from the hand of Nicholas, it appeared to have not been so clearly intended for her, as she could have desired. Yet for whom else could it have been designed? This was the question; and it necessarily remained unanswered, while the conviction still obtained, that, notwithstanding there was enough in the mysterious token to justify the course she had taken, she was nevertheless in most dangerous toils, with the existence of which her lover was totally unacquainted.
This once settled in her mind, her first impulse was to flee the house immediately; but, on second consideration, she felt it were better to await results, as she was certain that Martha was her true friend, and believed that no actual violence would be offered to her while under Wilson’s roof. Were she to effect her escape she had neither acquaintance nor guide to direct her steps, and was totally uninformed as to the character and people of the locality in which she found herself. Again, Wilson had no doubt, placed eyes upon her that would arrest her footsteps, or so embarrass her that she should again fall into the hands from which she sought to escape. The region around her, as she now learned, was addicted to smuggling, and so marked was this truth, that a house of entertainment in the neighborhood was called the Smuggler’s Home; where, it was said, bold and reckless men were to be found constantly. There was one thing, however, she was determined upon, and that was to procure, if possible, some weapon of defence in case any attempt were made to further jeopardize her person or liberty; and in this she was promptly aided by her young friend.
She had now been nearly a week from home, and yet not an additional word or line had arrived from her lover. It was fortunate, however, that in her present perilous condition she had one in whom she could confide, and whom she knew sympathised with her. This was a solace to her, as it enabled her from time to time, to ease her burdened heart of the heavy load that pressed upon it, and converse upon the probable designs of those into whose toils she hod been betrayed. Smith, she was well aware, knew all the circumstances of her case; but he was in the employment of her persecutor or persecutors, and nothing, she was certain, was to be gleaned from him. However, as he had some design on the hand of Martha, the thought struck her that if opportunity served, her young friend might be able to extract from him even a hint as to the real state of her case; and this idea she at once communicated to her. Martha, on her part, expressed herself willing to befriend her to the utmost of her power; but still evinced a repugnance to be under any obligation to Smith, or enter into relations with him that could aim at anything like confidence between them. Yet she confessed herself ready to sacrifice her feelings as far as she could properly do so, for the purpose of fathoming the plot that surrounded her companion; but, then, where was Smith to begin with; and when was it probable that he should again make his appearance in that locality? These were points more easily entertained than disposed of; and thus matters stood when circumstances threw in their way the very individual they both desired to see.
When the Kid, Jack and Wilson were liberated on the evening of the day on which they had been captured with others, and sent into the headquarters of Gen. O’Neill, it was decided that the first named of these worthies should proceed at once to Wilson’s, and apprise the family of the presence of a hostile army, and the necessity of keeping close and barricading the house in case the tide of war should roll in that direction. The habitation, as already mentioned, stood in an isolated spot surrounded with woods, and the proprietor was of the impression, that it would escape notice or molestation; from the fact that the Fenians seemed to eschew everything that savored, in even the slightest degree, of the destruction of private property or of gratuitous pillage. Besides, he perceived that for the purpose of meeting some of the necessities of the invaders, a few horses had been already impressed into their service, and felt, consequently, that were his discovered on the road leading to his home, they could not fail to share the same fate. He therefore, as just intimated, begged the Kid to make the best of his way to Limestone Ridge, beside which his domicile stood. To this request the Kid willingly acceded, as it would afford him another opportunity of seeing Martha; so, when evening was about to set in, he commenced his journey.
Earlier in the day, the brave Captain O’Donohue, of the 18th, white out on a foraging party towards Chippewa, came up with some outposts of the enemy, who, noticing his dauntless bearing, and the steady, onward tramp of his handful of men, fled at his approach without firing a single shot.
When passing out of the camp to the main road, the Kid learned that the whole force was to move off at about ten o’clock in the direction of Chippewa; it being the intention of the commander, as previously observed, to get between the body of regulars about proceeding from that point, and that of the volunteers, to move forward, and form a junction with them, from Port Colborne; intending to attack and defeat the one before the other came up. At this time O’Neill’s troops did not, as is confidently asserted, number as many as five hundred men; while the force of the enemy surrounding him on every side, was estimated at an aggregate of some thousands. This he well knew, but he had invaded the territories of the ancient and implacable antagonist of his country and his name, and he was determined to make another Thermopylae of any pass in which he happened to meet the foe, no matter how overwhelming their numbers.
This intelligence impressed the Kid with the idea that a battle might possibly take place somewhere in the vicinity of Stevensville or Ridgeway; as he knew that the leader of the Irish Republican Army, or forlorn hope, as so small a body of men might be termed, would attempt to intercept a junction of the enemy somewhere near one or the other of these points, as both lay on the line between Chippewa and Port Colborne, taking the Sodom Road and the Grand Trunk Railway as the surest and speediest route between both these latter places. So pushing forward, with speed that never slackened, just at the period that O’Neill was about to break camp, under the pretence of attacking Chippewa, Mr. Stephen Smith arrived at Wilson’s door, and after a polite double knock was admitted by the mistress of that suspicious dwelling.
Martha was soon apprised of his arrival, and while her companion trembled throughout every limb with anxiety for the fate of the important enquiries which she had kindly consented to make, she hastily left the apartment where both had been long seated, conversing upon their future and the chances of escape from such a den. On perceiving the Kid, although her very soul revolted against the touch of his cold, clammy hand, she seemed to welcome him with more than ordinary cordiality. She was, of course, both surprised and alarmed at the intelligence of the invasion, and the proximity of the two armies; for, as yet, not a whisper of it had reached her, so secluded the place. He spoke of the necessity of putting the house in a state of defence, so as to be ready to meet any contingency; although, as he himself averred, he did not apprehend the slightest danger so long as the inmates remained within their doors, in case the din of battle was heard in the vicinity. As it was, however, the windows were well secured, and the heavy, oaken front-door was capable of being rendered all but invulnerable by a huge iron bar that could be speedily thrown across it into two deep grooves in the posts.
All this having been seen to, some trifling inquiry was made as to their lodger, when Mrs. Wilson, understanding previously the intention of Martha, and sympathizing with the case of poor Kate, left the apartment, as if on some ordinary household affair. Martha now set about gaining the information she sought; but with all her art, could only ascertain from her suitor, that Kate was in the power of an individual who, for some reason unknown to him, had betrayed her into Canada, and consigned her, for a time at least, to the place where she was now domiciled.
“And were you a party to the abduction of this innocent creature?” exclaimed Martha, the blood mounting to her cheeks in real anger and disgust.
“Oh! it was all in the way of business,” replied the other, “and perceiving that it would result in the most pleasant companionship for one I so admire, I had the less scruples in furthering the design of a good employer.”
Let it be understood that this villain had not even the most remote idea of the pure nature and true character of Martha. Having seen her but a few times, he subjected her moral worth to the standard of that of her uncle, and thought, consequently, that the disclosure he now made would enhance him in her estimation. In this he was mistaken; for, no sooner had he made her thoroughly cognizant of the fact that he was not an innocent, but a willing, instrument in the abduction of poor Kate, than she sprang to her feet, and with a glance the most withering, and full of unconquerable hate and aversion, without a single other word, left the apartment and ascended to that of her friend.
No sooner had she disappeared than an expression the most demoniacal stole over the countenance of Smith. The very devil sat on his brow, while his eyes turned absolutely green in their sockets. His thin, pale lips glistened again, as he drew them across his sharp, white teeth, in an attempt to smile. Looking stealthily about him, while a curious expression, still more horrible, replaced the one already described, he hastily drew a long knife from a sheath concealed beneath his vest, and regarded it for a moment in the light of the lamp before him. He knew that every hope of obtaining the hand of Martha was lost, and forever; and now for a terrible revenge.
“They are helpless and alone,” he muttered, slowly rising to his feet. “There is wealth, too, somewhere here; and should I silence them all, it will be mine, and their death will be laid at the door of the invaders. Besides,” he growled, “no suspicion can rest upon me, as I am the known friend of Wilson and the family. Nobody saw me come—no person shall see me leave. I shall fire the house after having rifled it; and conceal whatever I may obtain, in some convenient spot until the affair has blown over. Jack and Wilson know too much of me: I am tired of them. If needs be, I shall silence them also. I have rare work before me. Barry must die; but what shall I profit by killing him if I kill this woman also? Who cares! The devil is working with me; and now for it! To the foot of the stairs, then; where, as they descend, they shall fall one by one without a groan until the rare bird of a prisoner is left alone in her room. Then for some wild sport and the final blow!”
Having muttered all this to himself, the demon in human shape, extinguishing the lamp, sprang forward in the direction of the stairs, to await the first who happened to descend: but scarcely had he assumed his post of death, before the large oaken door was thrust rudely open and two strapping young fellows, armed with a revolver and a dirk each, rushed into the apartment, and alarmed all the party up stairs by calling aloud for a light, the gleam from the hearth being feeble and uncertain.
Instantly the knife of Smith was returned to its sheath, while he stepped forward, saying that he had just accidently extinguished the lamp in the absence of Mrs. Wilson and Martha, who had run up stairs to acquaint a lady friend with the intelligence that he had but that moment brought her from Mr. Wilson, regarding the invasion of the Province and the proximity, as he had no doubt, of the Fenian and Canadian forces.
“That is just the mission we have come on ourselves,” returned one of the new comers, “as we were apprised that Mr. Wilson was from home, and thought that his family would like to know of the dangers that possibly surrounded them.”
The manly voice of the speaker soon brought Martha and her aunt down stairs; and the lamp being speedily relighted, the former advanced towards the speaker and taking his extended hand, with a bright eye and a flushed cheek, heard all he had to say on the subject which occasioned his unceremonious visit.
“One of us will stay with you,” he continued, while she thanked him for his goodness, “until Mr. Wilson arrives; and although he is not over social in his habits, I am sure he will not misconstrue the anxiety we feel for the safety of his family.”
“Thank you! thank you, Mr. Evans,” returned Martha; “we shall feel so grateful for your protection; and as to my uncle, I am satisfied he cannot be otherwise than obliged to you for this great kindness.”
“You stay then, Harry,” observed the other stranger, “for I shall move on to Ridgeway, as I want to hear what’s afloat there. There are troops, I know, at Port Colborne, and they ought to be apprised of the whereabouts of the enemy, and so should the inhabitants of this neighborhood. Mr. Graham, the Collector of Fort Erie, has, I am informed, proceeded with information of the enemy to Port Colborne; but still there is not yet anything known of their precise location, so contradictory are the rumors, not only as to where they are encamped, but in relation to their numbers.”
“I can satisfy you as to both these circumstances,” broke in the Kid, with a voice as bland as if murder had not visited his heart for an age, “for I heard this evening that they were encamped about four hundred strong at Newbiggin’s farm, four or five miles down the river from Fort Erie; and that they intended to move on towards Chippewa about ten o’clock; branching off in the direction of Ridgeway, in the hope of meeting the troops coming from Port Colborne, and defeating them before they formed a junction with those expected from Chippewa.”
“As my cousin Harry will sit up with the family for the remainder of the night, then, perhaps you would not mind walking as far as Ridgeway,” replied the young fellow who had last spoken, “as we are sure to have news there; from the fact of the village being on the line of the Grand Trunk.”
Seeing that his murderous plot was for the time defeated, the Kid made no objection to this request; feeling that the darkness and the night, as well as any whirl of excitement or debauch, were more in accordance with the infernal tone of his spirit, than the conversation of two beings, Martha and Evans, whom his keen eye at once discovered to be lovers. So bidding the family good night, and not waiting to partake of the refreshments offered him after his journey from the Fenian camp, he sallied forth with his new acquaintance on the road leading to the village.
“Henry,” said Martha, when the sound of their receding footsteps had died in the distance, “do you know anything of the man Smith who has just left us, for you seemed to eye him very intently from the moment the lamp was relighted until the door closed behind him this moment? We know now, and have often suspected, him to be a villain; but circumstances over which we had no control—that is, my aunt and myself—have thrown us occasionally into the society of the wretch, whom we both loathe and detest.”
This interrogatory was put in the absence of Mrs. Wilson, who had again sought the apartment of Kate to tell her all that had just transpired. It seemed to embarrass the young man for a moment; but recovering himself, he frankly replied—
“I have seen that man frequently in Buffalo. Not long since, he was pointed out to me as a most dangerous character who was under the surveillance of the police; and, as you may be well assured, I was astounded to find him here and at such an hour.”
“Oh!” returned Martha, “he has been here often, Henry, and what I now fear is, that my uncle is leagued with him, not only in the most frightfully dishonest practices, but in the abduction, at the instance of some other villain, of a good and pure young creature who, a few nights ago, was brought here by them under the pretense that it was the wish of her lover that she should accompany them where this wretch would—a pretense that disguised itself under a veritable token procured in some way from her betrothed, and evidently used without his sanction or knowledge.”
“I believe your uncle to be a bad man, Martha,” returned Evans, “but the fault is not yours; and besides, there is not a single drop of his blood in your veins. I am convinced, also, that your aunt knows it, and that it is that which so wastes her away and destroys the whole sunshine of her life. I have long felt it; and were it not for the dread of paining you through exposure, I should ere this have directed the attention of the authorities to some circumstances affecting his character and honesty, that came under my own notice; for, Martha, dear, but a few hours since, as I may say, I was an accidental witness of an incident which more than confirms all the suspicions that have so long rested on him.”
“I know! I know?” interrupted Martha, while she hid her face in her hands and wept in bitter agony, “but go on!”
“When,” resumed Evans, “two or three nights ago, believing Wilson to be from home—for I shall no longer call him your uncle, he being, in truth, no relation whatever of yours,—I stole up from our place to say a few words to you and urge you to quit this house and become my wife. I was astonished to see a light in the stable as I crept by it; and looking into one of the windows. I perceived this man leaning over a large case filled with valuables that had evidently been stolen by him, or by some of his accomplices, who had entrusted them to his safe keeping until the noise of the robbery had blown over. I saw this, I saw with my own eyes; and now that you are aware of it, can you longer remain beneath this roof?”
“It is true! alas! too true,” sobbed Martha, “for I myself saw the very same case; and then it was, that for the first time, a full sense of his horrible vocation fell upon me and the poor woman that he calls his wife. Of course, Henry, I shall quit this place, and forever; but until this horrible din is over, and the poor creature up stairs placed in some safe hands, I shall bear my terrible lot as best I can.”
“Rightly spoken, dear Martha,” returned Henry, kissing off her tears, “and I trust that this lady of whom you speak, will prove herself worthy your kindness and esteem.”
“No fear of that, dear Henry,” returned the maiden, “my heart tells me that she is as good as she is beautiful, and I know, not only from her own lips, but from what has transpired this very night, that she is the victim of some foul plot yet to be punished and explained.”
“And where has she come from, and what is her name?” rejoined Henry, evidently becoming interested in the fate of our heroine.
“Her home is in Buffalo,” replied Martha, “and her name is Kate M’Carthy.”
“By heaven!” exclaimed Evans, leaping to his feet as if the house were falling, “where is she? where is she? Lead me to her at once!”