Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798Reed, Talbot Baines
History
Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798
Reed, Talbot Baines
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Juvenile fiction; Ireland -- Juvenile fiction
He turned round to look, and in that moment I had the door shut on him
and the key turned on the outside. I knew that the door, which was
thick enough to stand a horse's kick, had nothing to fear from his. And
as to his noise, there would be no one to heed that. He would be safe
there till morning, and there were oats enough in the place to keep him
and Juno both from starving.
This business done, I hastened back to the house, and sought Miss Kit,
to whom I told everything.
"Father will not be home to-night," said she bravely. "We must do the
best we can, Barry."
"We'll do better than that, plaze God," said I.
Then followed an anxious council of war. Besides our two selves, there
were my lady and three maid-servants in the house. Mistress Gorman was
too nervous and delicate to count upon for help, but the maids were all
three sturdy wenches. So our garrison was five souls, and, counting the
two guns I had brought, there were eight stands of arms and ammunition
to match in the house.
The danger to be feared was not so much from the invaders' shooting as
from the possibility of their carrying out their threat to fire the
house. Our only hope seemed to lie in frightening them off at the onset
by as formidable a show of resistance as possible. Failing that, we
should have to protect ourselves as best we could.
Fortunately we could at least prevent their surrounding the house; for
by closing and barricading the garden doors on either side, all approach
would be limited to the water-front, unless a very wide circuit was made
outside the grounds. The drawing-room in which the family usually spent
their evenings was on the first floor at this side, and here no doubt
the enemy would direct their first attack.
I therefore resolved to have the candles lit as usual and to keep the
blinds up, so as to give no hint that we were forewarned of their visit.
Below, on the ground-floor, there were two windows on either side of the
door, with shutters in which we bored some hasty loopholes, at each of
which we could station one of our party. And the more effectively to
keep up an appearance of being in force, I placed a loaded gun, pointed
towards the door, on the outer wall at each side, which, by an
arrangement of string attached to the triggers, I should be able to let
off from within, and so give the party the discomfort of believing
themselves taken in the rear.
For the rest, we removed everything inflammable, such as curtains and
bedding, as far from the windows as possible, and trusted to a supply of
well-filled buckets stationed in every room to help us in case of fire.
And as an additional defender against a forcible entry from any
unexpected quarter, I brought Con the dog (who seemed to understand all
that was going forward) into the house, and stationed him in the hall.
By the time these preparations were all complete it was quite dark, and
I knew we might expect our visitors at any moment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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