By 10 o’clock on the morning of May 13th, we had completed all arrangements for the rescue of Sean Hogan.
CHAPTER XI.
THE RESCUE AT KNOCKLONG.
As I have said, we arrived at Emly at 3.30 a.m. The first train on which the prisoner might come was not due till noon. When all was in readiness a few hours before noon we waited eagerly for the arrival of the men from Tipperary town in response to our request. As the hour approached we grew anxious and restive. The minutes grew into hours. Eagerly our eyes scanned the road from Tipperary, but no cyclist appeared. What had happened? We could not let ourselves believe that the help we needed so badly was not at hand. Eleven o’clock—still no reinforcements. The minutes travelled all too fast now. Half-past eleven came, and still no sign. And the train was due at 12!
But we were not going to let Sean Hogan be taken away without a fight. We knew that the escort, armed with rifles, bayonets and revolvers, would consist of four to eight policemen, but it was possible that other policemen or soldiers would be on the same train. We could only fail. At 12 o’clock the three of us rushed up to the station just as the engine steamed into the platform.
In my hurry I dashed right into an old woman at the entrance. To save her I had to throw my arms around her. The two of us were swung round and round by the force of the collision, and I finished what must have looked like a dance by falling heavily to the ground. Unfortunately, there was no time for explanations or apologies, and I don’t know whether the poor woman ever heard yet the explanation of the collision. Before she could even see my face, I was up again and racing along the platform with my finger all the time on the trigger of the revolver.
But there was no prisoner! We were sadly disappointed. In a sense, too, we felt a little relieved for there would be still time to seek help before the next train was due. But waiting is always the hardest part of any fight; suspense is more severe than action.
As we returned crestfallen to our resting-place, after scanning every carriage, our pill was made more bitter by the thought that the Tipperary men had failed us. Our minds searched for other help. We thought of the old Galtee Battalion, the boys from the mountain districts, from Galbally and Ballylanders. Their Battalion we knew had lately been suspended by Headquarters. But we knew, too, that their hearts were right, and their hands strong and daring. They would not turn a deaf ear to a call like ours.
The next train was not due from Thurles till 7 o’clock in the evening. We sent word to the boys of the Galtee Battalion, told them our errand and the danger of the work that was to be tackled. Within an hour the reply came. Five of their men would join us at 5 o’clock. Never before had we got such a heartening message.
The men were as good as their word, and they came before their time. At 4.45 p.m. they arrived, Eamon (Ned) O’Brien, James Scanlon, J. J. O’Brien, Sean Lynch, and poor Martin Foley, who was hanged in Mountjoy Jail exactly two years later for his part in the rescue. With him was hanged poor Maher, who knew nothing in the world about the incident for which he was hanged. But they gave their lives gladly for Ireland, and the brave words of their last message from the foot of the gallows will keep their memory for ever fresh in the hearts of Irish patriots. May they rest in peace!