Dark Rosaleen (31 page)

He needed no reminders. He held out his hands, palms open.

‘I have no gun,' he said. ‘Put yours away and take what you want. As much as you can carry.'

‘You trick me,' said Coburn.

‘No trickery, my desperate friend. Take it. The rats will take more than you can carry by the time we get to France.'

‘I will want twelve sacks,' said Coburn. ‘We have three curraghs at your side.'

‘Then pull back the canvas and open the hatches. Send two men down and two to haul.'

‘And when we're down there, you will call your men?'

‘No! But the choice is yours. And make it fast. There's a breeze up and I'm waiting on the tide.'

He unwound the rope and threw the end into the hold. ‘Do it now or go.'

O'Brien and Meagher went into the hold. Duffy took the line.

Coburn called to Kate. ‘Take my gun and pray the captain is a cautious man.'

She stepped into the light of the lantern. Only then did the captain show surprise.

‘Lord above!' he exclaimed. ‘So this is the lady all England is talking about. And here you are, on the deck of old
Jackdaw
. Will anyone believe me when I tell my story? I doubt it. But here she is, the Dark Rosaleen.'

‘My name is Kate,' she said. ‘I go by no other.'

‘Whatever name you go by, you are exactly how they say you are.'

He moved a step forward to see her better. She stepped back out of the light.

‘Captain. Stay still. Don't let me use this.'

‘You'll have no cause to. I'm not an Irishman, Kate. Like you, I'm from England, from Kent. But I'm pleased to have met you and I wish you luck.'

Twelve times the rope was lowered and twelve sacks were lifted from the hold. Soon the curraghs were full and low in the water.

‘Why have you done this, Captain?' Coburn asked.

‘Must you ask?'

‘Do you have a name?'

‘Not one you have to know. But
Jackdaw
's my ship.'

‘How do we thank you, then?'

‘You have no need. But go now. Once you are away, I will have to send a man ashore to raise the alarm. I'll say there were twenty of you, each with a gun. I'll have my story.'

‘You are a Christian man, Captain. You have saved many lives. They will not know of you but I will never forget.'

The tide had turned and the current was flowing inland by the time the curraghs were within sight of Beggerin. The rebels heard the ship's horn and a gunshot. The captain had raised the alarm, as he said he would. Now he would have to wait for the military to come aboard and he would have his story and many of their questions to answer. His sailing would now have to wait another day and another turn of the tide to take him and his cargo to France.

It was Meagher who brought it to Coburn. He had torn it out of the
Cork Examiner
: a newspaper report on yet another series of brutal evictions. It might have passed unnoticed by them except for the name of the landlord.

‘Kate,' Coburn called to her. ‘I think you know this man.'

‘And who might that be?'

‘Edward Ogilvie.'

He held out the newspaper cutting. She took it and her hand was not still. It was a name from another age, swallowed up in the mishmash of the past where fond and hateful memories jostled with each other. Could she ever forget him, the repugnant half-sir and his bullwhip, the jeering face, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the stench of his sweat, Eugene and blood on her skirt?

‘I see he's still remembered, Kate,' said Coburn.' You're in a bit of a tremble. Sit by me.'

She read the report. Then she let it drop to the floor.

‘What is he to you, Daniel?' she asked.

‘He is a landlord to me. He is the enemy to me. Did you not read it all?'

He picked the cutting off the floor. Meagher and Duffy, who were sitting across the large kitchen in Dromoland, came closer.

He read it aloud.

From the estate of Mr Edward Ogilvie, MP.

This past week, three villages of Castletown, Coppeen and Enniskeen were tumbled and all tenants evicted with the help of a company of the 49th Regiment. They were turned out in the depth of winter, being denied clothes to carry or any provisions. It was a night of high winds and storm and their wailing could be heard from a great distance. They made shelters of wood and straw but Mr Ogilvie and his drivers pulled them down. They stood bewildered looking at the ruins of their homes and their few possessions being trod into the mud. They pleaded with Mr Ogilvie but he ordered the soldiers to drive them off. Three hundred persons, including pregnant mothers and their children in various stages of starvation and nakedness, wandered away not knowing where they were going. Some were too weak to crawl. They were dead by morning.

‘Meagher brought it to you,' Kate said. ‘Why?'

‘Do you need to ask?'

‘Will you go for him?'

‘I think we will. He was not meant to be first on the list but he's put himself there.'

Meagher spoke. ‘Daniel, think more on it. Let's not be hasty. He's a member of the English Parliament. It's a high risk for us. Let's go for a lesser man. He can wait. We'll have him when we're better at it.'

Coburn looked across at Duffy. ‘And you? Is he too big for us?'

‘I think Meagher's right,' Duffy replied. ‘It's a good distance away and remember we can't be sure what help we'll have there. It's not a place we know.'

‘Shall we wait for O'Brien?' Meagher suggested.

Coburn looked to Kate. ‘And what of you, my Rosaleen? How soon do you think we should pay Mr Ogilvie a visit?'

She took his hand. ‘If we are together, Daniel, we must decide together.'

‘Yes!' He nodded. ‘That's right, Kate. We'll wait for William.'

O'Brien returned and it was agreed. Ogilvie was indeed a big target and a dangerously important one but Coburn argued that that was exactly why he should be the first to be attacked. It would be a sensational coup for the Irish and a shock to the English.

Meagher started on his journey to Ogilvie's estate the next day. He would find out how close the nearest military garrison was to it, map out its geography, establish how well it was guarded, how many servants lived in the mansion, and how often Ogilvie was in residence.

He would take soundings of his tenants and gauge what support he could expect from them. They would be suspicious of him. Strangers were not welcome anywhere now. Too many were paid informers or agents of the landlord and the constabulary. But Meagher had his ways. He was a handsome young man with a ready wit and persuasive charm and the maid servants in the mansion were also young. He would need his guile. He would need to be patient.

Within the week, he returned to Dromoland. He sat with Coburn, Kate, O'Brien and Duffy at the long oak table.

‘He's been busy doing a lot of clearing. The three villages are bare and there are more tumblings to come. They say he means to turn his land over to sheep and bring in Scottish shepherds and that by the end of the year, there'll not be an Irishman left there.'

‘Did you find out if he is there every day?' asked O'Brien.

‘They say he stays in the house all weekdays but he's away on Saturdays and Sundays. No one seemed to know where.'

‘He's not on his own?' said Duffy.

‘He has two girls serving in the house. There's a man, his butler-cum-groom and a fetch-and-carry young lad. They all live in. That's all. His agent lives some miles away at Macroom.'

‘What of the military?' O'Brien asked. ‘Did you see them?'

‘I saw their barracks. About two miles from the house, towards Enniskeen. Fusiliers. I'd say about fifty of them.'

‘You've done well, Meagher.' Coburn shook his hand. ‘Tell me, do the servants ever leave the place?'

‘Not when I was watching. The gates are some way from the house and there's only one path to it. I never saw them on it.'

‘Then we can't torch it,' said Duffy. ‘Not if they're inside.'

‘We'll find ways,' Coburn said.

‘The problem is how we put in the fire,' said Meagher. ‘There are shutters at every window. It's a fortress. Ogilvie knows he's at risk. I watched his man put up the boards every day just before dusk. If we're going to torch him it'll have to be while it's light and that's not a good thing.'

‘When is dusk?' Coburn asked. ‘What time will that be?'

‘It will be dark around four.'

‘Then that will be the hour. In the half light.'

‘You said you want the servants out,' Kate said. ‘But they'll not leave if Ogilvie is there. How can they? We can only do it when he's away.'

‘You're a fine lieutenant, Kate.' Coburn took her hand and kissed it.

‘Don't mock, Daniel. You've only got two days of the week to do it, Saturday and Sunday.'

‘Don't the servants go to Mass?'

‘I wasn't there on a Sunday.' Meagher answered. ‘They might well do. There's a small chapel in the village. I suppose it's …'

Again Kate interrupted. ‘Daniel, you say we must attack just before dusk. The servants might go to Mass but they'll not be in church all Sunday.'

‘Then I don't know how we can empty the house,' said O'Brien.

‘We'll have them out,' said Coburn. ‘Fear will do it. Sunday it is.'

The sun had sunk an hour before but its amber light still rose over the cedar trees and lit the rooftops of the house. It was large, built by the Georgians, not of grey Connemara stone but red brick imported from England. An avenue of limes, a quarter of a mile long, led up from the wrought iron gates of the estate to a pair of lions carved from granite that sat either side of the massive oak front door. The immaculate lawn, with long regimented flower beds, stretched right up to the base of the tall front windows.

They dared not stay long. They were seen arriving as they rode through the ruins of the villages wrecked by Olgivie's tumbling gangs. Those who watched them go by would talk about these strangers and that talk might find its way to the police and then quickly on to the Redcoats two miles away.

Their torches of oiled peat were ready to be lit. It would not take long. The house would be well alight and beyond rescue long before the soldiers or any of the neighbouring landlords raised the alarm. That was the score of it. There was nothing to fault. It was simple, quick and safe.

They waited by their horses within the cover of the trees. Kate was their sentry. Coburn saddled up.

‘I will go and call them out,' he said. ‘Just the four of them, is it, Meagher?'

‘Yes, Daniel! The four servants.'

Coburn lit his torch of peat.

‘Wait until the four of them are on the lawn,' he ordered. ‘Wait until they're well away from the house and I give the signal. Then come and ride in fast. And keep moving.'

He cantered to the house and hit the front door hard and loud with the flaming stick.