The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'TooleMaxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
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The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'Toole
Maxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
The butler had promptly answered the summons of the bell. “Bring
slippers,” said the Colonel, and the order was obeyed. Kneeling he
removed his master’s boots, placed the slippers on his feet, and
was about to rise, when to his astonishment my father’s powerful arm
prevented it, and in a minute more he was bound hand and foot, and flung
upon the floor in perfect helplessness, with an intimation “deep not
loud” that the first movement he attempted of limb or tongue would prove
a certain passport to eternity.
Without hurry or alarm the effective strength of my father’s garrison
was speedily assembled in the great parlour, and sixteen men were found
fit for duty in Knockloftie--a number more than sufficient for its
defence. To all, arms and cartridges were delivered,--and every musket
was carefully loaded to ensure a certain and effective fire when the
moment of action should arrive. My father’s orders were brief, clear,
and easily comprehended--and as every spot of vantage had been occupied,
every window that looked upon the front or back approaches had one
or more marksmen assigned for its defence according to its local
importance. The lights were blinded, the strictest silence was enjoined,
and not a trigger was to be drawn until my father gave the signal. Never
was a small garrison better prepared or more determined; the soldiers,
under a belief that they had been specially betrayed, and that they
would have been assailed if their route had been continued, were burning
to be revenged upon their intended murderers; while those who had found
shelter from their enemies in Knockloftie, already doomed men, knew
also that they were the chief objects of attack, and that no alternative
remained to them but to defeat it or’ to perish. Thus circumstanced,
Knockloftie had little to fear from open force. True, treachery or
surprise might possibly have succeeded. Against the former, if there
were faith in a stout bell-rope and a parson’s knot, the old house for
the present was secure; and from the latter, the _mal adresse_ of Miss
Halligan had effectually preserved the garrison.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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