Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (16 page)

The shock of the cold was so great that Michael involuntarily sucked in volumes of water. It roared in his ears, bubbling and swirling around him. He grabbed frantically for anything to hold onto, splashing on the surface. He saw a barrel.
  

"Salvation!" Michael thought, but when he struggled to move his frail legs he found them paralyzed with cold, rendering him helpless in the icy water. He slid under once more and was churned until he was unclear which way was up. Soon the waters felt warmer and the waves less turbulent. He thought maybe he would be swept to shore, riding this peaceful current, but then he realized his foolishness.

There was no such wave--he was drowning.

Again the panic and fear consumed him. He would never see his unborn babe, never kiss his sweet wife's lips again, and never work the fields in the warm sunlight.

No! I'm not ready to die! How can the God I've loved all my life be so cruel?

Then he heard someone whispering to him, and it was growing clearer, more insistent. He raged, "I will not go with you! Not yet!"

The whispering continued, and finally Michael listened. A gentle voice reassured him that he would be all right and that it was time to come home. Again Michael refused, but it urged him on. Then, as if someone dropped a veil over him, he was at peace. Michael went home.

Chapter 14

The fog lifted, and pale moonlight washed over Darcy as she regained consciousness. The cool breeze, which swept away the mist, now swept away the cobwebs of her mind, and she opened her eyes. She saw the moonbeams glistening on the waves, and she blinked several times to clear the blur of delirium.

Her body was lashed to a tombstone, and when she tried to move the pain was excruciating. All of the night's horrors revisited her, and with a pounding heart, she listened for the soldiers.

Darcy looked down at her bruised and battered body, and even in the dim light, she could see that her skirt was drenched with blood. She had no idea how long she had been lashed here, but judging from the position of the moon, it had been a long time.

Suddenly, she heard the thunder of hooves and dropped her head, pretending to be unconscious. Two soldiers rode up and dismounted.

"Is she dead?" asked one.

 
"No, she's alive," stated the other indifferently after he placed his hand on Darcy's forehead, checking for body heat.

Her head throbbed with pain, as they carried her down the bluff on the back of a donkey to headquarters. The soldiers led the donkey around to the back of the cottage and pulled open the door of a shed. They dropped Darcy onto some hay in the corner and locked it from the outside.

Moonlight streamed through the slats of the shed, illuminating her bed. The rays shining over her body reminded Darcy of the bars of a jail cell.

All night long she fought sleep, but her feverish mind played tricks on her, terrifying her with ghoulish nightmares and chase scenes.

The following day brought no visitors and no news. The soldiers did not provide food, water or any opportunity to use an outhouse, and she had to relieve herself in the corner.

As the day progressed, Darcy grew weak and despondent. News of the assault spread through town, leaving everyone stricken with grief and despair: two drowned, three escaped and seven to be executed in the morning. Liam continued to fight for his life, but either way he would be hanged in the morning.

Molly Kennedy's husband had escaped. This would not be the case for Michael O’Hearn. His body and that of Jerry Joyce had washed ashore that morning.

Bridget lay on a bed of hay in the loft of her sister's home staring at the ceiling, stricken with grief. Over and over, she speculated about the terror of Michael’s final moments and the agony he must had endured in the cold waters of the
Atlantic
.

There was a soft knock on the door downstairs, and she heard her sister, Gweneth speaking in muffled tones. She called up the stairs. "Bridget? Are you awake? There's someone here to see you!"

Bridget pretended to be asleep. She couldn't bear anyone's pity. She wanted to be left alone with her memories of Michael.

"Bridget, it's Teila," she urged.

Bridget stirred. Teila was Michael's sister, and she could not turn her away. She too was in mourning.

I'll be right there," Bridget said in a hoarse voice. Pushing her hair back, she dried her eyes and came down the ladder.

As Gweneth slipped out of the cottage, Teila and Bridget embraced affectionately. They held each other for a long time as if to gather strength.

"Teila, you are not well enough to be up and about. You shouldn't be here."

Teila was thin, and her face was pale, but she shook her head. "We must not talk of my feelings. I bring terrible news. Major Russell intends to hang Darcy in the morning."

Bridget's eyes grew wide, as Teila continued, "I believe that he wants to set an example. I have been up all night walking the floor trying to think of what we can do."

When the shock of what she had heard finally wore off, Bridget said, "What does Father Etienne think?"

"No one has seen him. Has he come to see you?"

Bridget shook her head.

Tiela swallowed hard and said, "I have an idea, it but I need your help."

"Of course, I'll help. What must I do?"

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Here's my plan. You are to go and see Major Russell to make a plea for Darcy's life on the grounds that she is with child. Keenan and I will go to Granager to find the midwife, Annie Ryan. I'd bet my life that Russell will send for the old woman to verify that Darcy is full."

"But she'll testify that Darcy is not with child," protested Bridget.

"Aye, that she would, but it will not be Annie Ryan testifying; it will be me. I have heard tales that she loves the bottle and can be bought, so none other than Teila Mullin will answer Annie's door when the soldiers come looking for a midwife."

"But can you stand the journey, Teila? You aren’t well."

"Keenan will help me. I have no choice," was her answer. Teila embraced her sister-in-law and said, "May God protect us both."

Wrapping their shawls around their shoulders, the two women set out to save Darcy's life.

*
     
*
     
*

Late in the afternoon, Darcy was awakened by scraping of the shed door. A flood of light blinded her, and she sat up, squinting. A gruff voice said, "Get up. The major wants to see you!"

He yanked her to her feet and Darcy staggered in front of the soldier toward headquarters to meet with Major Russell. She was filthy, and her hair was tangled and littered with bits of hay. She stumbled into the cottage, and Major Russell looked up from his desk. He had dark rings under his eye, and his face appeared drawn. With a look of distaste, he said, "So you're the ship's beacon. What's your name?"

Darcy said nothing, looking at her floor. The guard gave her a push, and she mumbled, "Darcy McBride."

Russell wrote her name down and asked, "You're related to this Liam McBride?"

“He is my brother.”

Darcy’s head felt thick and her eyes would not focus.

The major looked in the corner of the room and said, "There's someone here to plead your belly. Is it true?"
      

Darcy didn't understand why the officer was asking her such a question. He hadn’t even given her food or water. She wondered why he had this sudden interest in her well-being.

"Well? Do you carry a brat or not?" he asked impatiently.

Slowly her eyes adjusted, and she could see Bridget O'Hearn standing in the corner. There was no expression on her face, but Darcy saw her ever so slightly nod her head. Darcy said, "Yes, I am with child."

Slamming his hands on the desk, Major Russell barked, "God damn it! Now I have to deal with this."

He stood up and paced the room. Looking at the guard, he ordered, "Dispatch a rider to the next town. What is the closest town anyway?"

"Granager," Bridget replied swiftly.

"Yes, Granager, dispatch a rider to obtain a midwife who can verify this pregnancy. Don't stand there! Do it now, and get these women out of my sight. Their stench disgusts me."

Just as Darcy and Bridget were about to step out the door, Major Russell remembered something and stopped them. He demanded, "What do you two know of a priest here in Kilkerry?"

The women remained silent, looking at the floor.

"So, you will tell me nothing. No matter. My men found his body near the smuggler's cove this morning. It appears that he lost his footing on the cliffs and fell to his death on the rocks below."

Darcy and Bridget looked at Major Russell in disbelief.

“It was a ghastly mess. We had no choice but to put him out to sea." There was the hint of a smile on his mouth, and he said, "It seems you people had all sorts of activities going on behind my back, and now you'll all be punished."

With a nod, he dismissed the women. Darcy stumbled back to the shed, dazed and blinded with denial.
It was a trick; Father Etienne was not dead. It was only yesterday that she had dined with him on the ledge in the warm sunshine. He would be back. That was someone else they found.

Darcy stopped walking, and the guard gave her a push snarling, "Get going, you filthy whore."

The guard's words echoed in her ears, and suddenly she turned and threw herself on him like an animal. Darcy tore at him, kicking and biting until he grabbed her by the hair and flung her to the ground. Another soldier rushed up to help, and the two of them threw Darcy into the shed with so much force that she hit the back wall with a smack and fell to the ground.

They had won again.
They would always win, thought Darcy as she lay on the hay feeling broken. She was tired of fighting. She had been fighting all her life, and she didn’t have the strength to continue.

As night fell, Darcy dropped into a deep apathy, caring for nothing but death which held a tranquil appeal. She refused to think of Father Etienne. She could not accept the fact that she would never see him again. She lay motionless, staring at the ceiling until the middle of the night when she heard the door open and the guard say, "Do your examination and be quick about it."

He slammed the door, leaving Darcy alone in the shed with someone holding a lantern. She closed her eyes and rolled over facing the wall.

"Darcy! It's Teila. Look at me!"

"Leave me," mumbled Darcy. "You'll get yourself in trouble."

Teila grabbed Darcy by the arm and rolled her over, "I am posing as a midwife to testify that you are teeming. The Crown will not hang a woman carrying a child. All you have to do is say that my name is Annie Ryan and that I examined you tonight."

Darcy pulled herself up and leaned against the wall. "Go home. You have a husband and children. I care not what happens to me."
 

Teila's eyes sparked, and she squared her thin shoulders giving Darcy a resounding slap across the face. "How dare you speak indifferently of your life, when we risk our lives for you!
 
Father Etienne gave his life trying to save you and the others, and now you repay him with this blasphemy!"