Phelim Otoole's Courtship and Other Stories: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
Phelim Otoole's Courtship and Other Stories: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Such was his command over these misguided creatures, that in an instant
there was a ring round the house to prevent the escape of the unhappy
inmates, should the raging element give them time to attempt it; for
none present durst withdraw themselves from the scene, not only from an
apprehension of the Captain's present vengeance, or that of his gang,
but because they knew that even had they then escaped, an early and
certain death awaited them from a quarter against which they had
no means of defence. The hour now was about half-past two! o'clock.
Scarcely had the last words escaped from the Captain's lips, when one of
the windows of the house was broken, and a human head, having the hair
in a blaze, was descried, apparently a woman's, if one might judge
by the profusion of burning tresses, and the softness of the tones,
notwithstanding that it called, or rather shrieked aloud for help and
mercy. The only reply to this was the whoop from the Captain and his
gang, of “No mercy--no mercy!” and that instant the former, and one of
the latter, rushed to the spot, and ere the action could be perceived,
the head was transfixed with a bayonet and a pike, both having entered
it together. The word “mercy” was divided in her mouth; a short silence
ensued, the head hung down on the window, but was instantly tossed back
into the flames.
This action occasioned a cry of horror from all present, except the gang
and their leader, which startled and enraged the latter so much, that he
ran towards one of them, and had his bayonet, now reeking with the blood
of its innocent victim, raised to plunge it in his body, when, dropping
the point, he said in a piercing whisper, that hissed in the ears of
all: “It's no use now, you know; if one's to hang, all will hang; so our
safest way, you persave, is to lave none of them to tell the story. Ye
may go now, if you wish; but it won't save a hair of your heads. You
cowardly set! I knew if I had tould yez the sport, that none of you,
except my own boys, would come, so I jist played a thrick upon you; but
remimber what you are sworn to, and stand to the oath ye tuck.”
Unhappily, notwithstanding the wetness of the preceding weather, the
materials of the house were extremely combustible; the whole dwelling
was now one body of glowing flame, yet the shouts and shrieks within
rose awfully above its crackling and the voice of the storm, for the
wind once more blew in gusts, and with great violence. The doors and
windows were all torn open, and such of those within as had escaped the
flames rushed towards them, for the purpose of further escape, and
of claiming mercy at the hands of their destroyers; but whenever they
appeared, the unearthly cry of “no mercy” rang upon their ears for a
moment, and for a moment only, for they were flung back at the points of
the weapons which the demons had brought with them to make the work of
vengeance more certain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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