Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 8

At the same instant the sounds of voices and the regular tramp of men marching were heard without.

"Halt! stand at ease!" called out a deep voice; and the clank of the muskets as they fell to the ground was heard through the cabin.

Meanwhile, every one within had resumed his previous place and occupation, and the buzz of voices resounded through the kitchen as though no interruption whatever had taken place. The latch was now lifted, and a sergeant, stooping to permit his tall feather to pa.s.s in, entered, followed by a man in plain clothes.

The latter was a short, powerfully-built man, of about fifty; his hair, of a grizzly gray, contrasted with the deep purple of his countenance, which was swollen and bloated; the mouth, its most remarkable feature, was large and thick-lipped, the under-lip, projecting considerably forward, and having a strange, convulsive motion when he was not speaking.

"It's a hard day. Mister Barton," said Malone, rising from his seat, and stroking down his hair with one hand; "won't ye come over and take an air at the fire?"

"I will, indeed, Ned," said he, taking the proffered seat, and stretching out his legs to the blaze. "It's a severe season we have. I don't know how the poor are to get in the turf; the bogs are very wet entirely."

"They are, indeed, sir; and the harvest 'ill be very late getting in now," said one of the young men, with a most obsequious voice. "Won't ye sit down, sir?" said he to the sergeant.

A nod from Mister Barton in acquiescence decided the matter, and the sergeant was seated.

"What's here, Mary?" said Barton, striking the large pot that hung over the fire with his foot.

"It's the boys' dinner, sir," said the girl.

"I think it wouldn't be a bad job if we joined them," replied he, laughingly,--"eh, sergeant?"

"There 'ill be enough for us all," said Malone; "and I'm sure ye're welcome to it."

The table was quickly spread, the places next the fire being reserved for the strangers; while Malone, unlocking a cupboard, took down a bottle of whiskey, which he placed before them, remarking, as he did so,--

"Don't be afeard, gentlemen, 'tis Parliament."

"That 's right, Malone. I like a man to be loyal in these bad times; there's nothing like it. (Faith, Mary, you're a good cook; that's as savory a stew as ever I tasted.) Where 's Patsey now? I have n't seen him for some time."

The girl's face grew dark red, and then became as suddenly pale; when, staggering back, she lifted her ap.r.o.n to her face, and leaned against the dresser.

"He's transported for life," said Malone, in a deep, sepulchral voice, while all his efforts to conceal agitation were fruitless.

"Oh, I remember," said Barton, carelessly; "he was in the dock with the Hogans. (I 'll take another bone from you, Ned. Sergeant, that 's a real Irish dish, and no bad one either.)"

"What's doing at the town to-day?" said Malone, affecting an air of easy indifference.

"Nothing remarkable, I believe. They have taken up that rascal. Darby the Blast, as they call him. The major had him under examination this morning for two hours; and they say he 'll give evidence against the Dillons, (a little more fat, if ye please;) money, you know, Ned, will do anything these times."

"You ought to know that, sir," said Maurice, with such an air of a.s.sumed innocence as actually made Barton look ashamed. In an instant, however, he recovered himself, and pretended to laugh at the remark. "Your health, sergeant; Ned Malone, your health; ladies, yours; and boys, the same." A shower of "thank ye, sir's," followed this piece of unlooked-for courtesy. "Who's that boy there, Ned?" said he, pointing to me as I sat with my eyes riveted upon him.

"He's from this side of Banagher, sir," said Malone, evading the question.

"Come over here, younker. What 's his name?"

"Tom, sir."

"Come over, Tom, till I teach you a toast. Here's a gla.s.s, my lad; hold it steady, till I fill you a b.u.mper. Did you ever hear tell of the croppies?"

"No, never!"

"Never heard of the croppies! Well, you're not long in Ned Malone's company anyhow, eh? ha! ha! ha! Well, my man, the croppies is another name for the rebels, and the toast I 'm going to give you is about them.

So mind you finish it at one pull. Here now, are you ready?"

"Yes, quite ready," said I, as I held the br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s straight before me.

"Here 's it, then,--

"'May every croppy taste the rope.

And find some man to hang them; May Bagnal Harvey and the Pope Have Heppenstal to hang them!'"

I knew enough of the meaning of his words to catch the allusion, and das.h.i.+ng the gla.s.s with all my force against the wall, I smashed it into a hundred pieces. Barton sprang from his chair, his face dark with pa.s.sion. Clutching me by the collar with both hands, he cried out,--

"Halloo! there without, bring in the handcuffs here! As sure as my name 's Sandy Barton, we 'll teach you that toast practically, and that ere long."

"Take care what you do there," said Malone, fiercely. "That young gentleman is a son of Matthew Burke of Cremore; his relatives are not the kind of people to figure in your riding-house."

"Are you a son of Matthew Burke?"

"I am."

"What brings you here then? why are you not at home?"

"By what right do you dare to ask me? I have yet to learn how far I am responsible for where I go to a thief-catcher."

"You hear that, sergeant? you heard him use a word to bring me into contempt before the people, and excite them to use acts of violence towards me?"

"No such thing. Mister Barton!" said Malone, coolly; "n.o.body here has any thought of molesting you. I told you that young gentleman's name and condition, to prevent you making any mistake concerning him; for his friends are not the people to trifle with."

This artfully-put menace had its effect. Barton sat down again, and appeared to reflect for a few minuted; then taking a roll of paper from his pocket, he began leisurely to peruse it. The silence at this moment was something horribly oppressive.

"This is a search-warrant, Mr. Malone," said Barton, laying down the paper on the table, "empowering me to seek for the body of a certain French officer, said to be concealed in these parts. Informations on oath state that he pa.s.sed at least one night under your roof. As he has not accepted the amnesty granted to the other officers in the late famous attempt against the peace of this country, the law will deal with him as strict justice may demand; at the same time, it is right you should know that harboring or sheltering him, under these circ.u.mstances, involves the person or persons so doing in his guilt. Mr. Malone's well-known and tried loyalty," continued Barton, with a half grin of most malicious meaning, "would certainly exculpate him from any suspicion of this nature; but sworn informations are stubborn things, and it is possible, that in ignorance of the danger such a proceeding would involve--"

"I thought the thrubbles was over, sir," interrupted Malone, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "and that an honest, industrious man, that minded his own business, had nothing to fear from any one."

"And you thought right," said Barton, slowly and deliberately, while he scanned the other's features with a searching look; "and that is the very fact I'm come to ascertain. And now, with your leave, we'll first search the house and offices, and then I 'll put a little interrogatory to such persons as I think fit, touching this affair."

"You're welcome to go over the cabin whenever you like," said Malone, rising, and evidently laboring to repress his pa.s.sionate indignation at Barton's coolness.

Barton stood up at the same moment, and giving a wink at the sergeant to follow, walked towards the small door I've already mentioned. Malone's wife at this started forward, and catching Barton's arm, whispered a few words in his ear.

"She must be a very old woman by this time," said Barton, fixing his sharp eyes on the speaker.

"Upwards of ninety, sir, and bedridden for twelve years," said the woman, wiping a tear away with her ap.r.o.n.

"And how comes it she's so afraid of the soldiers, if she's doting?"

"Arrah! they used to frighten her so much, coming in at night, and firing shots at the doore, and drinking and singing songs, that she never got over it; an that's the rayson. I 'll beg of your honor not to bring in the sergeant, and to disturb her only as little as you can, for it sets her raving about battles and murders, and it 's maybe ten days before we 'll get her mind at ease again."