The Northern Iron Part 23

"Get him on his feet, Tam, and we'll take him to the Captain. If he's not a rebel himself he'll know where the rebels are hid."

Neal was pulled up by the arms and marched along the lane again to Moylin's house. He was led into the kitchen. Two men sat at the table drinking. They were in uniform. Neal recognised it as that of the Kilulta yeomen, the men who had raided his father's meeting-house. He recognised one of the officers--Captain Twinely. The sergeant made his report. He and his men had been patrolling the lane as they had been ordered. They had heard a man running fast towards them, had stopped him, and arrested him.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" asked Captain Twinely.

Neal made no answer. The sergeant peered closely at his face.

"I think I know the man, sir. He's the young fellow that was with the women at the meetinghouse in the north. The man the old lord made us loose when we had him. What do you say, Tarn?"

"You're right as h.e.l.l," said the trooper who stood by Neal. "I'd know the young cub in a thousand."

Captain Twinely rose, tools the lamp from the hook where it hung, held it close to Neat's face, and looked at him.

"I believe you're right," he said. "Now, young man, we know who you are; You're Neal Ward." He drew a paper from his pocket and looked it over.

"Yes, that's the name, 'Neal Ward, son of the Reverend Micah Ward, Presbyterian minister of Dunseveric. A young man, about six foot high, well built, fair hair, grey eyes, active, strong.' Yes, the description fits all right. Now, Mr. Neal Ward, since I've answered my first question myself, perhaps you'll be so good as to answer my second for me. Where are your fellow-rebels?"

Neal was silent.

"Come now, that won't do. We know there's a meeting of United Irishmen here to-night. We know that the leaders, M'Cracken, Monro, Hope, and the rest are somewhere about. Where are they?"

"I don't know," said Neal, "and if I did I wouldn't tell you."

The sergeant struck him sharply across the mouth with the back of his hand.

"Take that for your insolence. I'll learn ye to say 'sir' when ye speak to a gentleman."

"Answer my question," said Captain Twinely, "or, by G.o.d, I'll make you."

"Try him with half hanging," said the other officer, speaking for the first time. "I've known a tongue wag freely enough after it's been sticking black out of a man's mouth for a couple of minutes."

"Too risky, Jack. The last fellow you half hanged wouldn't come to life again; turned out to be whole hanged, by gad." He laughed. "There's fifty pounds on the head of this young c.o.c.k, and it's ten to one but the rascally Government would back out of their promise if we brought them nothing but a d.a.m.ned corpse. Besides, I want the information. The vermin's nest must be somewhere round. I want to get the lot of them.

No, no; there's more ways of making a croppy speak than half hanging him. We'll try the strap first, any way. Now, Mr. Neal Ward, will you speak or will you not?"

"I will not."

"h.e.l.l to your soul! but I'm glad to hear it. I owe you something, young man, and I like to pay my debts. If you'd spoken without flogging I might have had to bring you into Belfast with a whole skin. Now I'll have you flogged, and you'll speak afterwards. Tam, give the sergeant your belt. Sergeant, there's a tree outside. Tie the prisoner up and flog him till he speaks, but don't kill him. Leave enough life in him to last till we get him to Belfast, unless he speaks at once."

"Yes, sir, but if your orders are so particular I'd rather you'd be present yourself to see how much he can stand."

"I'm not going to leave my bottle," said Captain Twinely, "to stand sentry over croppy carrion. Flog him till you lay his liver bare, sergeant, but don't cut it out of him."

The sergeant saluted, and marched Neal out of the house. His coat was dragged off him, his s.h.i.+rt stripped from his back, his hands tied to the tree which stood before Moylin's house. He set his teeth and waited.

The predominating feeling in his mind at first was not fear but furious anger. He had shrunk in terror from the near prospect of seeing Finlay die. He felt nothing now except a pa.s.sionate desire for revenge.

The sergeant swung the trooper's belt round his head, making it whistle through the air. Neal s.h.i.+vered and shrank, but the blow did not fall.

The sergeant was in no hurry.

"You hear that," he said, swinging the belt again. "Will you speak before I lay it on you? You shall have time to consider. n.o.body shall say I hurried a prisoner. We'll sing you a psalm, my dearly beloved, a sweet psalm to a most comfortable tune. At the end of the first verse I'll give you another chance. If you don't speak then----. Now Tarn, now lads all, tune up to the Ould Hunderd,

"'There was a Presbyterian cat Who loved her neighbour's cream to sup; She sanctified her theft with prayer Before she went to drink it up.'"

The troopers, who appeared to have learned both tune and words since the night when the sergeant sang them in Dunseveric meeting-house, shouted l.u.s.tily. Following their sergeant, they drawled the last line until it seemed to Neal as if they would never reach the end of it.

"Now, Mr. Neal Ward," said the sergeant, "you've had a most comfortable and cheering psalm for the hour of your affliction. Will you speak, or----. d.a.m.n your soul, Tam, what are you at?"

The man next him lurched suddenly forward, clutching at the sergeant.

In another instant there was a dull thud, and Donald Ward stood over the sergeant with a pistol, grasped by its barrel, in his hand. He had brought the b.u.t.t of it down on the man's skull. Two more of the yeomen fell almost at the same instant. The rest, three of them with wounds, fled, yelling, down the lane.

"The croppies are on us! h.e.l.l and murder! We're dead men!"

There were about twenty of them, all well armed, but a night surprise has a tendency to shake the firmest nerves. Captain Twinely and his fellow-officer played no very heroic part. At the first sound of the shouting and the footsteps of the flying troopers they rushed into the inner room and crawled under the bed, fighting desperately with each other for the place nearest the wall, but Donald Ward had no time to go after them.

"Cut the boy down," he said.

It was Felix Matier who set Neal free.

"Oh, whistle and I will come to you, my lad," he quoted, as he hustled the s.h.i.+rt over Neal's shoulders. "Why didn't you whistle, Neal, or shout, or something? Only for that devil's song we'd never have found you. I guessed he was at some mischief when I heard him begin it."

"Silence," said Donald, "and let us get out of this. The place must be swarming with troops, and those yelling cowards will arouse every soldier within a mite of us. It may not be so easy to chase the next lot. Over into the churchyard again, and then, Moylin, we must trust to you. You know the country, or you ought to, and I don't."

Aeneas Moylin led the way into the churchyard again, and across the wall at the lower end of it. The noise of many hors.e.m.e.n riding fast reached them from the lane they had left. The frightened yeomen had gathered troops to aid them, dragoons who had been posted on the main road down below. From the top of the rath, which rose dark above even the tower of the church, there came shouts. Men had been placed there, too, and were gathering to their comrades opposite Moylin's house. The hunt would begin in earnest soon. Donald called a halt and, cowering under the shadow of a thick hedge, the little party of fugitives held a consultation.

"We might go back to the vault," said James Bigger. "They would find it hard to get at us there, even if they discovered us. They couldn't burn us out, for the walls are solid stone and four foot thick at least."

"I'm not going to spend the night with---- with what's there," said Felix Matier. "I'm not a coward, but I won't sit in the dark all night with my knees up against--ugh!"

"James Finlay?" said Bigger. "He won't hurt you now."

"I'm for getting away if possible," said Donald. "I'm not frightened of dead men, but I want to be at the fight tomorrow. If we stay here all night we'll miss it."

"Hark!" said Moylin, "they're in the churchyard. I hear them stumbling about among the graves. We can't get back now, even if we want to.

Follow me."

Creeping along the side of the hedge, they crossed the field they were in, another, and another after that. They came upon a by-road.

"We must cross this," said Moylin, "and I think there are soldiers nigh at hand."

Suddenly the sky behind them grew strangely bright. A flame, which cast black shadows from hedge and tree and wall, which lit up every open s.p.a.ce of ground, shot up.

"Down," said Donald, "down for your lives, lie flat. Where the devil have they got the fire?"

"It's my house," said Moylin, quietly, "the roof is thatched. It burns well, but it won't burn for long."

The shouts of the soldiers round the burning homestead reached them plainly. A body of hors.e.m.e.n cantered along the lane in front of them.

"Now," said Donald, "now, while their backs are turned, get across."

They crossed unseen, and gained the shelter of the ditch at the far side. They crept along it, seeking some boundary wall or hedge running at right angles which would cast a shadow over them. The hors.e.m.e.n pa.s.sed again, but this time the risk of discovery was less. The thatch of Moylin's house had almost burned itself out. Only a red glow remained, casting little shadow, lighting the land dimly. They crossed the field in safety and reached a grove of trees.