Needless to say how this occurrence intensified the perplexity and the rage of the government party in all parts of the country. There was surely some fierce swearing in Dublin Castle on the day that news arrived, and perhaps many a passionate query blurted out as to whether police, detectives, magistrates, and all in that southern district were not secretly in league with the rebels. In fact, a surmise actually got into the papers that the proprietors of the gunshops knew more about the disappearance of the arms, and were less aggrieved by the "seizure" than they cared to acknowledge. However this might be, the popular party enjoyed the whole thing immensely, laughed over it heartily, and expressed in strong terms their admiration of the skill and daring displayed by the operators. The following squib, which appeared in the _Nation_ at the time, over the initials "T.D.S.," affords an indication of the feelings excited among Irish nationalists by those extraordinary occurrences:-- THE CORK MEN AND NEW YORK MEN Oh, the gallant Cork men, Mixed with New York men, I'm sure their equals they can't be found, For persevering In deeds of daring, They set men staring the world around. No spies can match them, No sentries watch them, No specials catch them or mar their play, While the clever Cork men And cute New York men Work new surprises by night and day. Sedate and steady, Calm, quick, and ready, They boldly enter, and make no din. Where'er such trifles As Snider rifles And bright six-shooters are stored within. The Queen's round towers Can't baulk their powers, Off go the weapons by sea and shore, To where the Cork men And smart New York men Are daily piling their precious store. John Bull, in wonder, With voice like thunder, Declares such plunder he roust dislike, They next may rowl in And sack Haulbowline, Or on a sudden run off with Spike. His peace is vanished, His joys are banished, And gay or happy no more he'll be, Until those Cork men And wild New York men Are sunk together beneath the sea. Oh, bold New York men And daring Cork men, We own your pleasures should all grow dim, On thus discerning And plainly learning That your amusement gives pain to _him_. Yet, from the nation, This salutation Leaps forth, and echoes with thunderous sound-- "Here's to all Cork men, Likewise New York men, Who stand for Ireland, the world around!" But Captain Mackay, skilful and "lucky" as he was, was trapped at last.