CHAPTER V. — Among the Fenians.
While still young, and unused to the many strange phases of life I had an adventure which, at that period of my career, made a deep impression on my mind. A rough-looking man called on me, and requested my immediate attendance on a sick woman at Point St. Charles, at that time a remote suburb of Montreal. As I hesitated to go with him, having a strange dread of accompanying him to such a lonely place, he seemed to think I was afraid of not receiving my fee, and, pulling a long purse out of his pocket he took out a handful of gold pieces, one of which he tendered me an advance. This made me all the more reluctant to accompany him, as I feared he might be a robber or freebooter of some kind, but, quickly controlling my emotions, I set my reason to work, and argued that, whatever he might be, he could have no motive other than that assigned for taking me with him, that he could gain nothing by way-laying or even murdering me, and so I put on my outer garments and got into the carriage beside him. The night was wet and stormy, and, just as we started, forked lightning flashed across the heavens in all directions, causing the horse to dash madly along as if to overturn the vehicle. This of course was a mere coincidence, but, with all my firmness of will and sound logical reasons for not being afraid, I could not altogether control my emotions as we drove through the lowest and dirtiest parts of Griffintown, which had at that time the reputation of harboring all sorts of Fenians, thieves and marauders. We crossed the canal and got out into the country, the rain descending in torrents, while the thunder crashed louder than ever. I believe that, had I been able to get out, I would have even then retreated, but I had no alternative but to remain and make the most of my position. Beyond a few words at starting, my companion said little; indeed conversation was impossible, as were jolted from side to side of the street, and the crashing of the thunder overhead would have drowned our most powerful efforts.
After about half an hour’s ride, the carriage stopped at a lonely house some distance on the Lower Lachine road, and, alighting, we entered, when I was piloted into an upper chamber, where a woman lay on a couch in need of my attendance. I felt altogether re-assured now, and at once opened my satchel to make the necessary preparations for my stay; still the room had not the air of an ordinary bedroom, and the presence of three men, all as rough-looking as my guide, made me suspicious as to their calling, more particularly as there was not a woman to be seen save my patient.
As soon as I had divested myself of my wet garments and hung them at the fire to dry, the men left the room, and I ordered the woman to undress and go to bed, which she did. I then tried to get some information from her as to who her husband was, and what was the occupation of the men I had seen, but she either was or pretended to be too sick to enter into conversation, and I was obliged to restrain my curiosity for the time at least. In about two hours the woman gave birth to a boy, and as soon as I could leave with safety, I donned my clothes and left for home, the man who had engaged me putting me into a cab with great politeness, and paying the driver, he ordered him to deposit me in safety at my residence.
The next morning I was surprised to read in the paper that a quantity of arms and ammunition had been sent here from the Fenian headquarters in New York, and that although it was known that they were secreted somewhere about Griffintown, the police had been altogether baffled in their search for them. A new light now dawned upon me, particularly as I recollected that the room in which my patient lay was filled with long, coffin-shaped boxes, the uses of which I had been unable to guess. I accordingly consulted with my husband as to what course I should pursue. Was I, having come by this information in my professional capacity, to shut my eyes to these doings, or, taking advantage of my position, to inform the police? My husband argued in this way:—If these people had been guilty of a crime, which could not now be ameliorated or averted, it would be a straining point for me to take advantage of what I had learnt by accident and to bring them to justice; but that as in this case a great national trouble might be averted, and many lives saved, by timely information, it was my duty to exert myself in the interests of the community by putting a check on their movements. With this end in view I communicated with Mr. P——, then Chief of Police, and from my description he said he had no doubt but these were the very persons of whom they were in search, and that if I could only manage to frame an excuse for the introduction of a detective, he would make sure of their identity before making any arrests.
My second visit to the house was made in the morning. I found my patient very weak and feverish, and, although it was only what I had expected, took advantage of the fact to express my fears that the case was one requiring the most skillful treatment, and that unless I were permitted to call in a medical man of eminence, I would not be responsible for the consequence. The woman’s husband was very much averse to this; but, as I urged it strongly, and his wife (of whom he was apparently fond) seconded my request, he finally consented, and the same afternoon called, accompanied by Detective F——, whom I introduced as my consulting physician. Whilst I mixed some simple remedies for my patient, the detective carefully examined the boxes, which he was unable to move, and which we were both convinced contained arms and ammunition for the destruction of the peaceful inhabitants of Montreal. Mr. F—— carefully noted the position of everything in and about the house, he also took a good look at the surroundings, and then we departed for the police station. The Chief was for making an immediate arrest of the whole party, but I dissuaded him, urging him, in the interests of humanity, to wait till the woman was out of danger; he then agreed to wait for a few days, keeping the house and its inmates under constant surveillance.
The woman got better day by day, and at the end of a week, the Chief, fearful lest something might occur to mar his plans, sent a detachment of armed policemen to arrest the Fenian emissaries and capture the stores. In some way or another the men got wind of the affair, and made their escape across the lines, leaving the poor woman and her helpless babe alone and unprotected. The police entered the house unopposed; they found there several dozen, muskets and rifles, also about a hundred bayonets and five thousand rounds of ball cartridge. The woman refused to give the slightest information as to the names or identity of her companions; she said she knew nothing about the arms contained in the boxes, that the latter had been brought there by a strange man, and left in charge of her husband, and that she had never seen them opened. As the men were evidently by this time safe in Uncle Sam’s dominions, the police contented themselves with securing the ammunition, leaving the woman to shift for herself. As I did not like the idea of leaving her in the room alone and uncared for, I explained the matter to the neighbors, who good-naturedly undertook to look after her till she received money from her husband to pay her passage to New York. As, although I had no compunction in assisting to break up this den of ruffians, I pitied the poor woman, who was probably innocent of any crime, I handed her the gold piece which her husband had given me, and did not leave her till assured that the neighbors would look after her till her departure. In later years I have often passed the scene of these transactions, and a shudder passed through my frame as I remembered my experiences among the Fenians.