The Storyteller. THE RISING OF THE WATERS.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXIX, Issue 7, 14 February 1901, Page 23

The Storyteller. THE RISING OF THE WATERS.

IT was the night after Ballyellis. The men were asleep in the valley, on the grass, under the hedges, wherever they oouid, enjoying a needed and weil-kamied rest, for they had proved the manhood that was in them on that memorable day. Only an odd scout on the hilia around was awako, keeping watch and ward. Lights glimmered faintly in the windows of a farmhouse on the verge. Glimmered presently more brightly, as the door opened »nd a beam of light shot outwards on the bawn. Again grew darkened, aa a form appeared thereat, blocking it. The form appearing at the door whistled, and from the gableana a man came up. ' I want you to look up Miok Mah«r and George Malone. and and lend them them to is*. Don't be long.' " ' " Tns aoor closed, the form re-entered, and the stream of light was shut off. Less than half an hour afterwards the door opened, and two men entered. Were shown into the parlor, where a number of men were Bitting around a table. ' George,' said he who sat at the head of the table, to the first who entered, • I want to send this letter to Dwyer. It is most important it should reach him at onoe. I select you because yon know the Wicklow hills so well. You cannot go Arklow way, because the soldiery are all around there — guarding every road.' •Very well, Mr. Ryan,' Baid the young fellow addressed, readily. ' You will go with him Mick, because it is too important to be chanced to one. Anything may happen to one in such times as these. But two will be able to help one another, and if evil mischance oomee to one the other can take up the running. You understand ? ' They understood. • Very well. When will you be ready V They would be ready in half an hour. And were. The letter was handed to them, and, with muskets strapped across their shoulders, they got into the saddles and moved acros-s towards the bawn-gate. Other riders had owned these horses and sat in these saddles that morning — men with gleaming helmets and high plumes thereover, with burnished breastplates, stee! shoulder-straps, and swords by their sides — but these men were lying somewhere in the valley, too, and would never again mount horse or sit in saddle. There was a heavy mist, the mist of a summer night, lying over the ground ; bnt the moon would be up presently. And, indeed, as it was, the round silver orb was creeping slowly into view over the sky line of Carraolough. It was a strange and unaccustomed scene its peaceful rays would stream down on a little later ; but the two wayfarers never even thought of that as the turned their horses' heads northwards. They could not go by the Arklow way, as Esmond Ryan had told them — nor indeed by any of the known roads ; for, after the events of this day became known to them — and ill news travels fast — the orowding soldiery would be keeping watch and ward everywhere They, therefore, crossed the meadow-lands and cornlands, and towards the Wicklow hills. The moonlight kept them in company until the grey light came creeping from the east across the broad breast of the Irish Bea, and then the moon and the peeping stars shut up and disappeared. And by this time they had gained the friendly shelter of the hills. Cam Tual, high and mighty, was in front of them, and, like a genial Irish mountain, put on a friendly smile of golden rays on his summit to welcome them what time they drew near. It was a glorious summer morning. Ihe sun's rays came slantingly across the distant pea, the air was sweet and fresh, the heather around was creeping into redness, and, except an odd lark singing high in the morning air, there was not a thing or a sound about. Whatever noise there was arose from the striking of the horses' hoofs against the stony way. The air in these high latitudes is exhilarating, and the travellers felt its effect. They were enjoying it to the full as they moved on in single file, non-speaking, silent. The sensations were much too pleasant to be interrupted by talk. Presently, however, the silence is broken, for the one behind Bays in a low voice and startled — 1 Look, George I — look ! ' Malone turned round quickly in his saddle and looked it the speaker. He was about to ask ' What ?— Where ? ' But his eye following the other's gaze, which was fixed in a westerly direction, he did not need to put the query. fle saw it all at a glance. This is what he saw :—: — A troop of lancers, the morning sun shining brightly on their pennons and their red-coats, bringing out the colors with strange viridity. By their sides hung their swords, and in their leather sheathing their carbines. They were going along the ancient military road, so long unused as to have fallen back into its original savagery ; but now they halted, and the forms in the saddles turned their faces eastwards. 'My soul to glory! They see us!' exclaimed Malone in the instant in whioh he took the scene in. It was easy to take it in ; for, with the clearness of the air and the fresh brightness of the sun-rays, they did not seem a quarter of a mile away, though they were probably a mile. 1 That they do,' said Maher. 'W« had better ride for it. They will bo on us immediately.'

They were, indeed ; for presently the troop went about and were riding in their direction. It did not need much urging to Bend the two travellers pressing forward. They carried their lives in forward 0 * Vei7 8h ° rt leaße ~~ and both ifc - S( > they went Their horses were not very fresh. They had seen a good deal of exercise the previous day, before their former owners had fallen from the saddles, and, save the rest during the evening and early part of the night, had had little for some time. And they had come a longr. troublesome, tiring way already. But they were Btnnur and in good condition, and they were now put to their best Over the rocky heather, taking advantage of a aheep track wherever they found it, pounding over the shingle into a depression and urging their horses up the other side, they went on. But the others behind, some ten or twelve, were equally well mounted, and their horses were fresher, so they kept their own with them— if. indeed, they were not gaining. They would have gained more rapidly if some of them from time to time, when a good occasion arose, did not stay to sight their carbines and fire. But the di&tanoe was too great for these old-fashioned firearms, or the aim was unsteady and they escaped unhurt. The boulders, as they came to CarnTual, became more frequent and the way heavier. They had to ride— scramble, rather—around these huge masses of granite, and were sorely delayed. True their pursuers would have to do the same thing ; but these detours making large curves, were bringing them within easier ranjre of gunshot, and if man or horse got a bullet— then where were they ? It was all up with them. And what 'all up' meant they very well knew The military doings in Wexford and Wioklow left no doubt about that. ' We'll never make Glenmalure, George,' said Maher, one time when bullets came singing around, and they could hear the laujrhing shouts and hails of their pursuers-laughing, bo sure were they of their prey, 'My horse is getting tired.' M ft il Well <'^\ mUBt d 0 , the - beßt we oan - God i 8 e°°d I ' returned Malone. Push on ; we're nigh a mile ahead of them still. Push «,« l ° n t ?1? nOt m . Uch more h °P e of a successful ending than the other, but he was of a cheerier nature, and thought, moreover, that the good word was just as useful as the bad one groundYloped 0 " 1111^ 110^' right ' &Qd frOm ite h^ base the vnnr'i?n° W '- T' re kl \ ri^- We '™ down the hill. Mind ** --.^ we'll make it quar^af .?* of a large chord both-from the circumstances of the groundTvoTlet had takCn advanta * c of the P° Bition to fire 'My horee is hit in the shoulder, George See ' it wa^str^t^wUhSo^ 10^ *" *** "*» ™*~ < wnT, ha i a *w a ? jj ° b| devil a ™ rße> ' said Malone as he wine* up. Will he be able to carry on, d ye think ? ' But he pot no answer, for the horse presently shivered a bit, shook himself, plunged forward on his head and side, and it took a^^^f^^SSffl^ thS "irrupsbefore »c enou^not-^llSlsKidt ** P ™" ™ plaiQ ♦i, • ' f f 1 ?? re n ev ?i" t0 Bee the Bet ting sun again I'll put a kink in their laughing,' said Malone, a 8 he leaped out of the saddle* and uS &tT Dg *??' l Ot Xt I*?* 7 - ' Donlt mind that hor *>, Mick, don't oother yourself about him, he'll never travel a foot again Get your gun. ««"»• "O" ■f I^* 8 / o^!™^ c horse waß a trooper's horse and could stand fire, for they both rested their muskets on his back, took steady aim at the yelling pursuers behind, who were in no hurry now knowing their pray was certain, and fired They were both good Phots. Much firing at hares and wild towl in then; same regions in the more peaceful days had made them so. When the smoke lifted they found that their pursuers had something cisc to occupy themselves with than yelling forth ribald and tremtfhn 7 ** & ***** ° f conf usion ' and horßes were.rearing ' There I that will delay 'em a time, 1 Malone said, slingine un his gun again and leaping into the saddle. < Now, Mick, jump up behind me. Why-eh f What the devil are you doing 717 1 • Well t Saint Aidan help us I Of all the loonies I erer saw 1 Jump up, will you— while there's time !' The words came in a wildly desperate voice— hot with indignation and wrath. Mick Maher did as he was told. ' We'll never make it, George,' he said. < We'll never make Ulenmalure. This horse is tired, an' two's too much.' v JH « w ° uldut be much the better for having 'your saddle on him, said M done angrily. ' Anyhow, we can only do the best we C "rowin v m the handS ° f God ' HH ° W dreadful dark »t'B Two was too mnch on him. as Mick Maher had said That was evident from the labored way in which the horse strove to cet along. That was quite evident. All the more evident when iroine through a narrow c'eft, he staggered visibly against the left B ide rock, scraping the riders' shins. GTG T£ ■ M .? lone C elt Ma h«'s fingers, holding on to him, go in through his ribs at this. ' * , Tf , ' ?, cv ?* f in %' ***"*? in re P^ to this unintended remark. you^gte J2id£r " """ "^ ** DW ' No.' said Maher with a choke. ' No, they're under the saddleBkirts. I never thought of them. Why did you hurry me V

This seemed to be the last Btraw for Malone. ' Ah — oh my!' he said gulpingly. ' Yes, I know. I forgot all about the cartridges. Never once thought of 'em, no more than yourself. Oh, my 1 Do you know what we'll do, Mick ?' ' What V 1 We'll make for Darrycorrig. It's all wo can do. We'll get shelter there a bit.' 4 But what's the good of that V broke in Maher, with something like a sob. ' They can shoot us from the banks, like hares in & trap.' • It's the only thing to be done. It's better than hiding in the boulders here, whero they could stalk us at their easo like deer. Isn't it growing frightfully dark V It was indeed growing frightfully dark, as their horee, under its double weight, stumbled along. One would think old Cam Tual was putting on mourning for them — as indeed well he might. Men could not be in muoh more deadly plight— in worse extremity I They had some six miles to go, perhaps eight, to reach Glenmalure. They might as well try to make their horae fly to the moon ! „ — >*j ..^.^ nj reaca x»arrycorng — uiey tnignc, Dy a miracle, reach that. It was not much ; but, as Malone had said, it was the only thing to be done. Darrycorrig was a narrow ravine — something like what they call a canon in Arizona — about a mile long. In the long aforetime, when Wicklow was toßt and rent and torn by convulsions of Natutre, before the form of Man had been seen on this round globe, it had been made. Just as the Scalp had been rent asunder — just as the severance where the A.vooa runs through at Cronbane had been made — just in a similar manner had Nature made this great rent. It was not more than twice the length of a horse's leap in width, but it was very deep. Its aides were studded with protruding rocks, out-cropping granite, and among these grew in places straggling whin bushes. Otherwise its walls were steep as the side-walls of a house. And below, in the bed of the ravine, ran a tiny brook — tiny now in the summer, but roaring wild in the winter, when Cam Tual caught the rains and the snows melted on its tall summit and sides. To its shelter they turned their horse's head. Pounding down the rocky ways, floundering across the spaces of shaggy heath, laboring heavy and with dead, lifeless strides, their steed finally reached its edge, about centre ways in its length. They did not expect he would do so much. But he did ; and whipping off the winkers, they turned him loose and crept over the edge of the precipice, just as the yells and shouts of their pursuers oame on their ears from behind the boulders, not three hundred yards away. It waa not much of a shelter, when there. Each bank commanded a complete view of the opposite side, and if the soldiers went to the far bank they could pot them at their leisure— riddle them with holes, like a cullenedr, while they were helpless to reply; or they could come down the canon from either end, or both ends, and capture them. From the near side, the projecting stone under which they crouched protected them in a degree. The darkness, or cloud, or whatever it was — so very unusual of a summer's day— protected them also. But it was a poor shelter, and a dismal business at the best, and Death was spreading his wings very close to them. They could feel his icy, shivering breath on their faces. The second plan was that adopted by the soldiers, perhaps in ignorance of the ground — perhaps because they wanted to take them alive to wreak more tortures on them. The Ancient Britons were a nice lot, and, if anything-, the Hessians were worse. One party rode up and, dismounting at the Cam Tual side, entered the gorge ; the other went to the lower end and entered there. They were cauyht as a hare between two nets, or a salmon in the weir. ' I knew we'd be caught here,' Mick Maher said. ' We're just like rabbits in a ditch, wid the ferrets thracking 'em up.' ' We have done the best we could.' ' God help us ! An' that's not much. 1 ' Well, crying will make it no better. Say a prayer or two and I'll share my cartridges with you. We'll make a last fight for it, any how,' Malone said. ' It's so dark I can hardly pee your hand,' said Mick, after a minute or two, as he reached out for the cartridges. ' What's amiss with the day at all, at all? ' ' I'm blest if I know,' said Malone, as a mortal fear for the first time grew over him. ' God ble&a us ! It's like a day would be going to thunder, and yet it don't. ' I never saw a thunderstorm come like this, whatever it means,' observed Mick. They were quite ripht in saying co, for the blackness was not that of a thunderstorm. A blanket of heavy olouds had covered the face of the sky, obscuring it completely — the result of a long Bpell of very hot weather. But it was not that blanket so much that made the intense gloom. Over the sea, down Barrindarrig way, there descended a funnel-shaped cloud, intensely black, almost blueblack, from the clouds. And forthwith rose up from the sea another, cone-shaped, to meet it — forming a water-spout. And this went whirling, revolving, landwards. The two fugitives saw not all this. But they could see the top of the enormous cloud, and they could see the intense blackness of the day. ' Listen I Eh 1 What's that ? ' as a dull, subdued, sullen roar burst on their ears. ' Was that a volley fired 1 ' 'No,' Malone answered. 'Too dull to be firearms. I think it must be thunder.' ' It isn't thunder, whatever it is,' Maher said. And then, presently, the sky cleared and the summer day shone out, revealing all things plainly. ' We had a better chance while it was dark,' Maher said again. ' Give me the cartridges. We ought to stay a bit apart. I'll fire at those coming vp — you at those coming down.'

'The very thing, Mick. God send they don't go to the other bank facing us. There's no hope then. But, eh f Bee here! What is up ? The stook of my gun'B all wet.' They had been hiding very near the bottom of the canon, and the barrel of Malone'a gun was between his knees, the stook below. lln the name of God 1 Look I The stream's rising I' It was, indeed, rising — fast, too. Rising by the half-foot per second— so very fast that there was nothing for it but to olimb up by bush and rock as auiok as they could. Even so, the rising stream caught them, and their feet and boots got wet. They lifted themselves swiftly to near the brim. lOh ! glory be to the high name of God I Mick Maher '— m he grasped the other's arm with fingers that seemed grown into steel — ' there ! See there I Was ever anything like that Was ever anything like that !' Not often, indeed. Quarter of a mile higher up, a living, green wall oame swooping along. Roaring with a mighty rush. It was high as a two-storey house, and its front was perpendicular as a oloven cheese. It carried rocks, shrubs, trees — everything — before it and with it. Graiping one another, with a fear to whioh their \r™«r "„«.. * Vt ~~ f>lov watched it oome. It did not take ; armer lear waß a» b , .._ „ .-._ though tartanlong to oome and sweep by ; but that passm*, . "*•** »"■•■« taneons, seemed a generation in time. 1 Father in Heaven I Did you see that V whispered Malone id awe-struck tones. ' I did ! I Baw it— saw them,' said Maher, whilst his form shivered and shook, and his faoe had grown the oolor of the newly dead. In that momentary rush by, they had seen men's forms sweep by on its surface like straws. They had time in that swift glance to note the faces of the red-coated men, and to see the terrible look of unspeakable dread that was on them — a dread that there art no words given to any language to describe. The look that Dante tells us comes into the eyes of those sinners who see Death before them— and Hell after. The two men, unspeaking, stood there for full half an hour watching that stormy rush of raging water. It passed like one solid mass, and fell as swiftly as it rose, The apparition was afterwards simply explained. The whirling water-spout, coming inwards, had struck Cam Tual and at once dissolved — fell in one mass. It had poured down the mountain Bides and to the lowlands by the one way open it— through the ravine or oanon of Darryoorrig. Thenoe down the Carraway Stick, into the valley of Glenmalure, whence it rushed, doing immense mischief, back to its home again in the sea. * * * There were less thankful men in Ireland that day, and a food many less religious, than George Malone and Mick Maher, as they emerged on to the solid bank and looked around them on the smiling summer noon. There was but one soldier left, he who had care of the picketed horses, and him they had little difficulty in securing. The troop of horses they led with them over the uplands and down into the valley. Then turning their faces westward, from the direction in which the rushing waters had taken, they came to the end of Glenmalure and deflected northwards. The bummer eve was falling, and a peaceful haze setting in over the Avonmore, what time they Btood in the shadow of Derrybawn, and handed Michael Dwyer the letter with the welcome news of Ballyellis.— St. Patrick's.