The Felon's Track; Or, History of the Attempted Outbreak in Ireland: Embracing the Leading Events in the Irish Struggle From the Year 1843 to the Close of 1848Doheny, Michael
History
The Felon's Track; Or, History of the Attempted Outbreak in Ireland: Embracing the Leading Events in the Irish Struggle From the Year 1843 to the Close of 1848
Doheny, Michael
Ireland -- History -- Rising of 1848; Young Ireland Party -- History; Young Ireland movement
When I received this information, it was four o'clock, and the distance
to Crookstown was at least seventeen miles. The plan was one of which I
could not approve; but it would be invaluable to me to have a safe
asylum in Cork, for any project I might finally decide on. I accordingly
communicated to my man of confidence the difficulty I found myself in,
and requested he would procure a horse and car which I could drive along
the high road, hoping to reach Crookstown before the promised guide
would have left. He suggested the man at whose house I stopped on a
former evening. Thither both of us repaired, after having completed my
costume, such as is generally worn by the lowest Cork
peasants--literally rags. We got the horse and car, but before the
arrangements for our departure were made it was past the hour when I
should be at Crookstown. A servant boy who led the horse was my
companion. When we arrived at Crookstown it was eleven o'clock, and we
found no trace of the messengers. Nothing remained but to try and get on
to Cork. I proposed the journey to the boy; but he resolutely refused. I
affected to acquiesce, and asked him to drink something in a
publichouse, which was kept open for the accommodation of carriers, of
whom there are large numbers at that season of the year. He soon yielded
to the influence of milk punch, and allowed me to do as I pleased. We
proceeded along the great thoroughfare, having an empty butter cask in
the car. We passed several patrolling parties in the road, and at grey
dawn we were entering the city of Cork; the boy sleeping in the car, and
the horse led by me. I paid at the custom-gate for my butter, and passed
on through the city unnoticed. A few gentle taps brought the gentleman,
who undertook to have me conveyed out of the country, to the door. I
introduced myself; was admitted, and conducted to a bedroom, where
everything was prepared for my reception. Thus I found myself in the
very heart of the city of Cork, while the strictest search was made for
me in every cabin on the mountains of Kerry and the western shore.
I felt quite secure in my then retreat. During the day I learned that
the men who were to conduct me safely to Cork were arrested three
several[C] times on their way back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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