Volume 2 — NIGHTS IN THE GUARD-HOUSE. No. V.

“Holloa! what is that, sentry?”

“They are firing on the hills, sir.”

Out ran Sergeant Dobson from the guard-house, and looked through the dark towards the point from which he supposed the muskets had been fired.

“They are at it, sure enough,” said he—“Pop!—there they go. Is that a house o’ fire?”

“I think it is, sir,” replied the sentry.

The Sergeant now ran to a rising ground, behind the guard-house to satisfy himself, by taking an observation. It was a dark, cold, windy night, and the flames from a burning house upon a hill, about half a mile in front of the spot where the sergeant stood, spread a glare of red and white light upon the objects immediately around it, which had a sublime effect. The sergeant could plainly distinguish the figures of soldiers, between him and the flames, running until they disappeared in the darkness of the valley over which the flames waved; and he was now convinced that a desperate resistance must have been made to the party, that was sent to support the excise-officers, in taking possession of a private still, which had long been at work in the house now burning in sight of the sergeant.

The house where the illicit still produced its periodical flow of potyeen, was an old strong stone building, of three stories high, and partly in ruin. The lands upon which it was situated, and of which it had been once the manor-house, were “in chancery,” and the only inhabitants it possessed, were a sort of steward and his family, who received no pay for his services, except his house-room and firing, with leave to grow potatoes in the garden, and feed a cow on the estate—sometimes, perhaps, a pig or two. The agent of the estate seldom visited the ruin, unless when he took a shooting excursion; and then he did not trouble himself much with the old steward’s means of living. To make up for all deficiencies in salary, the occupier of the house, in conjunction with others, set up “a bit of a still,” as he termed it, and supplied thereby a considerable part of the neighbouring people, with potyeen and broken heads for several years, under the very noses of the excise-officers, who were either too wise, or too blind to take notice of the matter. The rumour was not without foundation, which hinted that several mugs and canteens of the old steward’s best, found their way into Ballycraggen guard-house. This, however, was only rumoured, and never happened to arrive at the ears of the officers then quartered in the town; for had that been the case, Corporal O’Callaghan, Private Mulligan, Jack Andrews, and even Sergeant M’Fadgen himself, would have got into a bit of a hobble, as sure as potyeen is good whiskey. But not a word more about that—let the officers find such things out—I’ll never “peach,” upon good soldiers. If they did take a drop while on guard, it was only to keep the frost out of their stomachs—(and as Mulligan says,) nobody ever saw them “a bit the worse o’ dthrink.”

The burning of the house was going on rapidly—the flames encreasing in strength, and streaming along the hill, over high pines and thick bush wood. The whole of the guard were at the front of the guard-house, observing the progress of the fire, when the glistening of the firelocks with fixed bayonets caught their attention, rising from the valley below them; and, through the faint and red light, they could perceive they were some of their own regiment who approached.

The guard immediately got under arms, to receive them. The challenge was given—the watch word passed—and the party commanded by Ensign Morris, halted in front of the guard-house, and delivered to the sergeant of the guard (Dobson) two prisoners—one slightly wounded by a shot in the arm.

The Ensign gave orders that they should be kept in the guard-house until morning, and left Corporal Callaghan with two men, to strengthen the guard: after which, he gave the word to his party, “Right face,”—“March;” and proceeded to the head-quarters of the regiment.

The prisoners were two labourers who belonged to the still, and the only two of its defenders who were taken.

“Well, my gay fellows, you gave us a purty bit o’ business to-night—eh?” growled Corporal O’Callaghan, when all were seated in the guard-house. “Look at that,” continued he, taking off his cap, and showing them a hole made by a bullet; “look at that, ye spalpeens. Which o’ ye did that?”

“Neither of us, plase your honour!” exclaimed both the prisoners; “we never fired a shot, at all, at all.”

“That’s a lie, old chap,” replied one of the soldiers who had escorted them; “that’s a lie; for I’ll take my affadavy I saw your infernal face looking out of the window when the fire first broke out; and if I’m not very much mistaken, it was this musquet that pinked your arm when you were running up the hill.”

“Whoever did pink my arm, as you call it, I wish’d o’ Christ I had him on the top o’ Faudrick’s Hill,—he with his firelock, an’ I with my pitchfork; I’d make him know his Lord God from Tom Bell.” This was the reply of the wounded man, who became evidently agitated with rage as he concluded.

“Well, my boys,” observed Corporal Callaghan, “it’s all over now; you are prisoners, and one o’ you is wounded. The business is over, so say no more about it.”

“Yes, yes,” said Sergeant Dobson, “say no more about it;—but, Corporal, tell us how the matter went.”

“By my soul! Sergeant, we had a throublesome job, I assure you. You know Andrews’s quarthers. Well, I was down there, taking tay with his wife, when the Sergeant-major came running down, and orther’d me out with my squad immajetly. So I had my men out while you’d say ‘thrapstick;’ an’ Liftinent Morris, of our company, with Sergeant M’Fadgen, myself, and twenty-five men, march’d off in the dark, along with two excisemen, down the narrow lane which lades towards the windmill. The lane was rough an’ muddy, an’ it was horrid dark; but the excisemen had lantherns in their pockets, which they pull’d out as soon as we were out o’ the town. When we got about a mile on, we filed off into a narrow path, which ran up the side o’ the hill, upon which that house that’s burning stands, an’ followed the excisemen in single files, through bushes an’ briars, like goats—climbing an’ slipping—till we came to a sort of open space, undther another hill; an’ from this we could see a gleam o’ twilight in the sky, as if the moon was just washing her face, to pay us a visit. Here we were halted, an’ orther’d to keep a sthrict silence. The excisemen shut up their lantherns. Ensign Morris now stooped down, to catch a glimpse o’ the house in front between him an’ the twilight; an’ then both he and the excisemen went on—down the slope o’ the hill. It got a little bit lighter, an’ we could see that the big stone house (more like a castle) was situated between us and another hill on our left, in a wide sloping place, and surrounded with fir-threes. There was no light at all in the windows. ’Pon my sowl, when I looked about at the dark scene, as it was—we dthrawn up undther a steep rock, an’ the roots o’ the big threes out over our heads,—all of us as silent as stones—I couldn’t help thinking o’ the night we were dthrawn up on the advanced posts in the Pyrenees, Sergeant,—just half an hour before the attack. Well—in about ten minutes, Liftinent Morris an’ the excisemen returned. Misther Morris immajetly addthress’d us in a sort o’ whisper, ‘Tention!’ says he. “Now, men, you are about to be employed in a juty which may call upon every individual of you to use his judgment and discretion. You may be required to spill the blood of your countrymen; but it is in support o’ the laws, and you are bound to do it, if necessity calls upon you. These revenue officers are going to make a sazure of a private still in that house, an’ in case our assistance is wanted, we must give it at all hazards; but to those men who will be posted by themselves, I have particularly to remark that they are to allow none to pass them—but, at the same time, not to fire, unless undther the most urgent circumstances. To those men undther my own eye, I say observe my ordthers—our object is to avoid bloodshed, but, at the same time, support the revenue officers in doing their juty.” He then ordthered Sergeant M’Fadgen to post two men at the pass we had just come down; and this being done, three more were sent round to about fifty yards distance, an’ posted at different points, while four others were placed at each flank o’ the big house on the side o’ the hill—all ordthered to allow nobody to pass in or out; an’ not to move from their posts till further ordthers, unless obliged by force. Ensign Morris then marched the remaining twelve, and the Sergeant and myself, down the slope for about a hundthred yards, an’ halted us undther cover o’ the wail, close to the gate o’ the house.

“The excisemen now went softly into the yard o’ the house—for there was no gate—an’ in about five minutes they came out again, to say that there were at least eight or ten men in the house—they saw through a crack in the wall. I must tell ye that the excisemen said they had been in the house twice, but it was in the day time, an’ if they were to be d——d for it, they could not find either still or one o’ the men,—it was so sacretly done between ’em; so they came to-night from information they had received, that a grate quantity o’ potyeen was to be sent out about twelve o’clock; an’ we were to wait ’till they began to load their cars with the stuff.—‘The cars are all harnessed,’ says one o’ the Excisemen, coming out o’ the yard, ’an’ I hard a dale o’ voices inside—so they will soon come out.’

“Here we waited for a little time, when a light from the door stramed out across the road through the gateway, and the excisemen got on their hands an’ feet, an’ kept watching the fellows coming out o’ the house to load the stuff. We heard the cars dthrawing up before the door, and in about five minutes the excisemen got up, and said that they would creep inside o’ the gate, an’ round the wall to the door, so as to get into the house before any alarm was given; an’ that the word “Captain!” roared out by one o’ them, would be the signal for our party to advance an’ support them. So in they crept, like cats, while the men were loading the cars: and we were expecting the signal every instant, when we sees a fellow’s head poking out o’ the gate: at first he didn’t see us, but walked softly out (I suppose to see was the ground clear), when he turned round an’ spies us, an’ immajetly bawled out, as loud as he could, ‘Murther! Dinis, shut the door; here’s the sodgers!’ The signal was instantly given; we didn’t mind the fellow at the gate, but advanced at double quick, right into the yard—Ensign Morris at our head. The door was open—a woman held a light, an’ was pulling in a man, while the excisemen were both knocked down like cocks before our faces. We were dthrawn up in line about ten yards from the door, while Ensign Morris ran forward, undther one o’ the horses’ heads, calling out he would fire if they would not surrendther; but the men were all in, an’ the door slapped right into his face, just as he was grabbing howld o’ one o’ them. You know Misther Morris is a slapping able fellow, that ought to be a Captain long ago—before he left Spain. The excisemen got up—not much worse o’ the wear—an’ Misther Morris ordthered me to remove the cars an’ horses, which we did to one side o’ the yard. He then called to the men to aim at the door when they got the word, and desired the Excisemen to pull out their lantherns, one of which he took, an’ threw the light on the door. “Now men:—ready—present—fire!” says he. Slap went a dozen bullets into the door. “Load!” was given, an’ the officer, with the Excisemen, went forward,—the men marched afther him,—ordthered to butt the door with their muskets; which they did: but neither the balls nor the butting had any effect whatever; for the door was as thick double oak as ever was; an’ well made too—one o’ the owld times.”

The prisoners smiled with satisfaction, as the Corporal observed upon the door.

“Well,” continued O’Callaghan, “we were dthrawn up a little distance from the house again, an’ another volley was sent right at one o’ the windows o’ the first floor. In went the wooden shutthers in smithereens about the ground, an’ slap comes a shot out at us. “Load!”—again—and again. Six men were ordthered to take post on our flank with the Sergeant, and the others with Misther Morris himself:—away went six bullets more into the same window, from the Sergeant’s party, while ours was ordthered to pop one by one, as Misther Morris directed. Another shot was now fired at us from the window, an’ knocked poor Hall head over heels.”

“What! is Hall killed?” demanded the Serjeant and the men of the guard.

“‘Faith! poor fellow he is—or all as one; the ball enthered his breast, an’ he was taken away to the surgeon with very little hopes o’ life.”

At this information of the Corporal’s there was a general murmur of regret.

O’Callaghan continued—“Misther Morris now says to the men, ‘Come—ready lads—an’ when the party on the other side fires, watch the window, while I throw the light right on it; which, when you see, fire at once—the whole of you.’ We then moved in the dark to six or eight paces farther out, an’ more in front. The smoke was now getting away—for a blast o’ wind just then came. In about a minuet or two, slap went the Serjeant’s party—a volley into the window. ‘Steady!’ says the Liftinent; ‘good aim lads’; an’ in less than a minuet he claps the light on the window. There was the fellow with a blundtherbush up to his shouldther, an’ he let fly just as we fired—the light was kept steady on him—I’m sure every man could see him. Rattle went the lead into him:—he jumped like a hopping ball up against the window top, an’ out fell his dead body across the ledge:—there he hung with his head an’ shoulders out. A most dthreadful cloud o’ smoke came now over the house, an’ almost stifled us; at which Misther Morris ordthered me to go round to the rear an’ see what was the matther. I went, an’ the sentheries there tould me the house was o’ fire—’faith! I soon saw it was; for the flames were bursting out o’ the windows; so I ran back to tell the Liftinent. We were all astonishment. What was to become o’ the men inside?

“There was no more firing from the party: the Serjeant was ordthered to remain at his post in front, with his six men, while Misther Morris an’ I ran round to the rear; but before we went, the flames came fleaking out of every window—even over the dead man that was lying stretched out over the ledge. It’s all up, thinks I, for they must ha’ spilt their potyeen, an’ set fire to it; otherwise the house could never be so suddenly in flames.

“Faith an’ you’re just right,” sneered the wounded prisoner; “We wasn’t a goin’ to let the d——d Exciseman taste a dthrop o’ it.”

“By my sowl! ye’re nice boys. I wish ye had been out at Badajoz, an’ may be ye’d ha’ had enough o’ such business,” said Corporal O’Callaghan, and then resumed his narrative. “Well,” said he, “we got round as fast as possible to the rear o’ the house, an’ just as we were approaching it, we sees the senthries—three o’ them—running towards the hill to stop three or four fellows who were galloping up it like monkies, an’ calling out that they would fire; while six or eight fellows made a rush by a hedge close to us, down the hill like devils, an’ we afther them—officer an’ all. I’m a good runner—an’ by my sowl! I could not do much with them fellows; they were like Leberacawns—we had scarcely time to wink our eyes, when they were gone—hooh! off they were like birds.”

“But didn’t Lieutenant Morris order you to fire, Corporal?” said Serjeant Dobson.

“Fire! not he. Why should he, Serjeant? You know what the Liftenant is,—he’ll not dthraw blood in such a case as that—the poor devils were running away. We couldn’t have much glory in killing one o’ them, I’m sure. One o’ the senthries fired though, an’ shot this nate-looking gentleman here getting up the hill, an’ made him prisoner; the other lad there fell right on his head and rowled down; so that he was also caught.”

“And is the house burnt?” demanded the Serjeant.

“Burnt!” replied O’Callaghan, “’faith it is—an’ well burnt too. It’s all in a hape o’ ruins. An’ afther all, the Exciseman didn’t get the still.”

“No, by J——s! they didn’t nor never will,” exclaimed the wounded prisoner with exultation.

“But what made you burn the house?” said Serjeant Dobson to the prisoner.

“I’ll say no more,” replied he; “it’s done now—an’ I’m not sorry; except for the brave fellow that lost his life.”

At this moment, the Sentry at the guard-house door challenged; and in a few seconds Lieutenant Morris with a magistrate of the town, and the gaoler, arrived. Handcuffs were placed upon the prisoner who was not wounded, and the Corporal with two men, were directed to take charge of the delinquents, and march them to gaol; which they did, accompanied by the Lieutenant, the magistrate, and the gaoler.