The above reward will be paid by the Irish Authorities, to any person not in the Public Service who may give information resulting in his arrest.
Information to be given at any Police Station.
S.O. 14591. (G. 40). 5,000. 11.20.—A. T. & Co., Ltd.
Meantime our episode at Soloheadbeg had had its first effects. South Tipperary, that is half the county, had been proclaimed a “military area.” That, for all practical purposes, meant martial law. Fairs, markets and meetings were prohibited; military reinforcements were rushed into the district and garrisons were established at villages which had never before sheltered a British soldier. Night and day they patrolled the roads and scoured the fields. Our little band had unmasked England. She had now to come out in the open and let the world see that she held Ireland by naked force, and by force alone.
We also learned that a reward of £1,000 was offered for any information that would lead to our capture. A few months later this offer was increased to £10,000. Nobody earned it nor indeed tried to earn it, except a few members of the R.I.C. They failed, and most of them never tried a second time.
These are the plain, unvarnished facts concerning the first shots fired after the Insurrection of 1916. These shots were the first of a series that were to bring Ireland’s name once more before the world, and to make the nations look on in admiration at Ireland’s fight for freedom.
CHAPTER VIII.
HELPED BY THE BRITISH.
We spent two nights in Mrs. Tobin’s house. Then we went to Ned McGrath’s, of Tincurry, and from there we were taken by Ned to Gorman’s, of Burncourt Castle. We then arranged to go to Ryan’s of Tubrid, and sent on word that they might expect us. But after sending word we changed our minds and did not go to Tubrid; and lucky it was for us—or for somebody else. Just at the time we had expected to be there the house was surrounded by eight peelers, and Ryan himself was arrested.
We decided to go on to Mitchelstown in County Cork, at the other end of the Galtees. We spent a night in O’Brien’s, of Ballagh, and while we were there a strange thing occurred. We were sleeping upstairs when strange voices aroused us. We looked out and saw several peelers just entering the house. We at once got ready for a fight, expecting to see them mounting the stairs at any moment. But they never came. In a few minutes they took their departure. Then we learned that the object of their visit was to ascertain if the owner of the house had paid the licence for his dogs.