Stories of Waterloo;
and Other Tales.
by William Hamilton Maxwell
London: Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley
1829
Vol. 1.
———
—Chapter 5—
The Outlaw's Story.
"MY
father was a soldier. He was a tall and handsome fellow: frequented fairs and wakes, and hurling matches; and by all accounts, was handier with the cudgel than the spade. From his wild, unsettled habits, a dragoon-officer, who accidentally met with him while grouse-shooting on the moors, easily persuaded him to enlist. He did so, and left his native mountains; and while on detachment in an English village, married the daughter of a wealthy yeoman, who discarded her for the match. She followed her husband to Flanders: he fell in battle; and my mother having conveyed me to my uncle's house, died there soon after, leaving me in his care.
"My uncle was a parish priest: he was a kind-hearted, simple man. Having no near relative but myself, he became much attached to me as I grew up, and formed the resolution of educating me to the church, that I might assist him when old, and eventually succeed him in the parish. Poor man! his stock of learning was not extensive; but such as it was, he did his best to impart it to his nephew.
"From my infancy I felt averse to the idea of becoming a priest. I suppose my father's habits had descended to me. I would follow a grouse-shooter all day; or employ myself in digging for foxes in the hills, and spearing otters in the river. If an eagle's airy was to be robbed, I must be present at the perpetration. I fished with skill; and for my opportunities, none shot better. I was sent for to all hurling-matches; and at foot-ball, was considered to be unrivalled. All this was but a poor preparation for divinity; but I was unsuited for the cowl; and had I ever thought of a life of celibacy, circumstances occurred which made me abandon the church for ever.
"My uncle's parish was one of the remotest in Erris; it was separated by a chain of mountains from the more open parts of the country; and, besides the peasantry and fishermen, there was but one family of the better order within the limits of his spiritual charge.
"This was a gentleman's of ruined fortune. He had been in early life extravagant; and having utterly destroyed a property which came to him overloaded with debts, he had been forced in his declining years to retire to the miserable remnant of his patrimony, a large mountain farm, situated by the side of my uncle's house.
"Mr. Percival had an only daughter. Like her parent, she had seen happier days; but she had cheerfully followed him to his retirement, and every exertion of her's was used to make their humble home comfortable, and render his declining years as happy as their limited means would permit. There was naturally an intimacy between the priest and his principal parishioner. They were every day together; and Agnes Percival and I became inseparable companions. She was a young, artless, interesting girl; and before I even suspected danger, I found that I loved her passionately. I never once considered that a barrier was placed between us, which could never be removed by me. I was an orphan—a dependent. My uncle had not saved, as I believed, a shilling from his small income; for he was hospitable and humane, and consequently his parish was scarcely able to support him. I was destined for a churchman. I had no other hope in life. My uncle was well advanced in years; and if he could defray the expenses attending my education at Maynooth college, it was the utmost I could expect from him.
"Yet I madly persevered in loving. 'The Fathers,' and the few dull tomes of dogmatic theology, which formed my uncle's library, were abandoned for Shakspeare, and some lighter books, which Percival had brought with him. My time was spent in killing game and fish, for presents to my mistress, or in wandering on the sea-shore, or reading by the side of a mountain stream the magic pages of the bard of Avon; and when twilight fell, I mused on imaginary days of happiness, which, in all probability, I was never fated to realise.
"But this dream was soon to be dissolved. I had spent the evening with Agnes; our conversation had been free and unreserved; we sat on the heathy bank of her little garden, which with my assistance she had formed. Insensibly I became excited, till, throwing off all restraint, I confessed my secret attachment, and implored her to return my love. Her face was crimsoned; her eyes were filled with tears; she trembled and was agitated; and I was kneeling at her feet when, at the moment, Percival stood before us: his countenance flashed with rage; he shook with violent passion; he indignantly cursed my presumption, upbraided me with my poverty, and scornfully contrasted his daughter's family with mine; and then ordering me to quit his presence, he took Agnes harshly by the arm, and hurried her from my sight, leaving me rooted to the spot.
"When I recovered my recollection I hurried to the shore, and for some hours wandered among the rocks. It was dark when I returned to my uncle's. Percival had been there, and from the priest's manner I could easily guess that he had received from the father of Agnes no favourable account of the evening scene in his garden. The old man reproached me bitterly with duplicity. I had deceived him. He had educated me carefully for the priesthood; and was I about to throw away an opportunity of settling myself for life?
"I was silent, and he marked my irresolution. 'Pat,' said he, with much emotion, 'I have hitherto been a father to you, and out of my small income I saved this purse for your college expenses.' He took out from his bureau an old glove filled with silver coins and a few banknotes. 'I have promised Mr. Percival that you shall leave this place to-morrow. Enter Maynooth forthwith: take this, it will defray your charges there. Come back to me a student, or never come again!' So saying, he rose abruptly, entered his little sleeping room, bolted the door, and left me standing in the kitchen, with the old glove filled with dues and offerings in my hand.
"Left to myself, I quickly formed my determination. I collected my small stock of linen, wrote a tender epistle to Agnes, bidding her adieu, and telling her that for her I had left home and kindred; entrusted my letter to an idiot boy who lived with my uncle, and with my bundle over my shoulders, and the priest's purse in my pocket, I started; crossed the mountains by moonlight, and ere morning dawned had reached the town of Ballinagh, and finding a recruiting party there, I enlisted, and entered the dragoon guards.
"A year passed away. My squadron was quartered in Ballinrobe. My fate was unknown to my friends; and my poor uncle little thought that the youth he had destined for the theology had abandoned the church for the riding-house. I was already made a corporal, and was a general favourite with the regiment.
"One evening I was cleaning my appointments at the stable door, when I perceived a wild-looking lad wandering through the barrack yard, and staring at every dragoon he passed. His appearance was familiar to me. I approached him, and discovered the well-known features of Morteein beg (little Martin), my uncle's fool. The poor creature uttered a cry of delight, and with strange grimaces and great caution gave me a sealed letter. I broke it open. My heart beat, my cheek burned, as I read it. It was from Agnes. She told me that I had been recognized by a herd, while driving cattle from the mountains to an inland fair. She implored me, if I still loved her, to come home without a moment's delay. Percival had determined to marry her to a wealthy trader from Galway: he was old, ugly, dissipated, and disagreeable, but was immensely rich, and had offered settlements which her father had accepted. The suitor was now absent completing all arrangements for the marriage and her removal to Galway; and on the third evening, unless I found means to prevent it, she would be a bride.
"I had a comrade, who had since I joined the regiment been my bosom friend. I showed him Agnes' letter. By his advice I applied to the commanding officer for a few days' leave of absence. Unfortunately the colonel was absent, and the major was cross and gouty. He refused me. I attempted to expostulate and plead my cause; but he cut matters short by throwing a book-jack at my head, and swearing he would send me to drill for my impertinence. My blood, already in a fever, now boiled with rage, and I determined to desert that night. Accordingly, I conveyed by Morteein a suit of coloured clothes, which I had fortunately preserved, to a public-house in the town, told my friend of my desperate resolution, and, unmoved by his remonstrances, once more put the priest's purse in my pocket, and waiting till all was quiet, scaled the wall, changed my dress, and, accompanied by Morteein, left the dragoon guards, as I had my uncle's house, by moonlight.
"We walked all night, and to avoid pursuit, rested during the day. On the third morning, the morning of that night which would see Agnes united to another, I gained the mountain pass above my uncle's house. I stopped to rest myself, and contrive some plan for seeing my mistress privately, when suddenly one of my former companions appeared below, and waving his hand, hurried up the hill to meet me. He had been watching for me.
"The news of my desertion had already reached the mountains; for on the same night an officer's room had been plundered of a considerable sum; and as I had been observed counting money in the public-house where I had changed my dress, I was suspected to be the thief, and a military party had been despatched after me. Heavens and earth! accused of theft! and how strongly would circumstances tell against me! I had unfortunately been remarked by the publican reckoning my uncle's purse, and from my flight no wonder I was denounced as the robber of the barrack-room.
"What was to be done? I dared not approach the village, lest I should be seen and apprehended; and in a few hours Agnes would be lost to me for ever. I told my friend my situation. I showed him the priest's purse, with my uncle's name on the notes, and at once removed any suspicion which might be attached to me for the felony. My companion took a warm interest in my affairs, and leaving me concealed in a ravine, hastened to collect my young friends, and consult with them what was the best course to pursue in my present emergency.
"I remained in my retreat till evening, when Austin Malley, my friend, returned. He brought me refreshments, and also the welcome news that he had seen my mistress, and removed from her mind the disgraceful charge of robbery, which had been insinuated against me. He told me that Percival was uneasy at my desertion, and was determined that the Galway trader, who had just arrived, should be married that night to Agnes, and set off next morning for his own residence with the bride. Austin had sounded my old comrades, and found them ardent to evince their affection, by assisting me in this my hour of need. We held a council of war, and it was resolved that Agnes should be carried off that evening. To effect this would be somewhat perilous, for Connolly having come by sea, had filled his hooker with friends to assist at his bridal.
"Late in the evening I left my place of concealment, and by the light of a full harvest moon approached the dwelling of my mistress. About a dozen fine able young fellows were waiting for me, well mounted and armed. We left our horses in a hollow, and with Austin and half a dozen of his friends, advanced to Percival's house. All within was noise, and joy, and revelry; the servants were dancing in the kitchen; the guests were drinking in the parlour; and this being the room where the principal company assembled, it was literally crowded with people.
"Connolly had brought a strange priest with him; for my uncle being apprised of Agnes' aversion to the marriage, had refused to perform the ceremony. Suddenly there was a bustle among the company; the priest put on his vestment, and the missal was open in his hand; the doughty bridegroom was vainly endeavouring to bring my handsome mistress forward, when I burst in to the apartment. The women uttered a tremendous yell; the men pressed on to see what had caused this unexpected interruption. I threw them, right and left, aside, until I gained the place where the bride was standing. In vain Connolly interposed. I hurled him to the end of the chamber, and lifting Agnes in my arms, carried her fainting to the door. In vain Percival and Connolly's friends would have torn her from my grasp. My comrades seconded me gallantly, and covered my retreat until we reached our horses, when, mounting with the bride, we spurred them to a gallop, and left pursuit behind us.
"Next day I made Agnes my wife. We were obliged to leave the country and conceal ourselves in the mountains here; and through the winter we have had a perilous and wretched life. I need not conceal from you that necessity obliged me to head a lawless band; but, except in prosecuting contraband adventures, I have never commanded or joined them. I have restrained them from robbery, and I have prevented the commission of any act of violence.
"Gibbons and Garland were my deadly enemies. The former attempted to deprive me of the command; but, in a personal contest, I defeated and disarmed him. The other ruffian, who fell by my hand last night, way-laid and fired at me a few days since. I saw him steal from his ambush; but I had devoted him to death. I overheard him, with Gibbons, plotting my murder, and, what sealed his fate with me, the violation of my wife." The outlaw's face flashed as he alluded to the intended injury of Agnes.
"But, Dwyer, why did you interest yourself for me? I was a stranger to you, and you owed me no favour."
"Pardon me, captain," said the outlaw, "I did, and a heavy obligation it was. Last winter, on a desperate snowy night, you surprised the cabin where I was sleeping. I had hardly a moment to conceal myself. There was a hollow in the wall, beside the pallet where my wife and I lay, into which I crept. Agnes, as if from alarm, shrank to that side, and effectually hid me. You entered; the soldiers searched the cabin; their information of my being there was positive; and, irritated at not finding me, they attempted to remove the bed coverings from my wife, and even threatened to pull down the roof. Poor Agnes was nearly dead with terror. You approached the humble pallet where she lay—'Fear not, my girl; I would rather a dozen ribbon-men escaped than one unprotected female should be injured; yourself and your poor hut shall be respected. Turn out, lad!' and, bidding my wife 'Good night!' you took the men away and left the hovel.
"I then swore that I would repay the life you unintentionally saved; and when I saw you this morning heading to the lake, I stopped the spy, who was hastening to apprise Gibbons and Garland of your being in their power. Both had vowed to be revenged of you, for you had often exposed them to imminent danger, by following them in dark and stormy nights, when they did not believe that the soldiery would leave their quarters."
"And now, Dwyer, what can be done for you?" said Kennedy.
"Let me go with you," said the outlaw. "Let me, by loyal and honest service, prove that necessity, not choice, left me to oppose the laws."
"Your wish shall be granted; you shall be enrolled in my own company."
The outlaw bowed in grateful acknowledgement; and on arriving at head-quarters, the commanding officer received Dwyer into the 28th, and promised him his protection.
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