The thoughtfulness of this soldier of fortune was illustrated by the fact that he wrote an official letter, signed and sealed, exonerating Foster from blame for not having dispatched his mail bags. He testified that, being in temporary want of accommodation, he was obliged to put Citizen Foster under requisition, and to place sentinels around the island.
It is also a curious fact that he and his officers paid for everything they took, including two pigs and a cow. General Ray, when leaving, removed a gold ring from his finger and presented it to Mrs. Foster as a token of fraternity. Finally, this arch rebel, after paying all of his obligations, discharged a cannon as a farewell note to the people of Donegal.
The Anacreon had scarcely started on her way when Foster dispatched two messengers to the proper authorities in the hope that part of the British fleet might intercept the invaders. This was not so easy as it looked, because Tandy had already told Foster that they had met several English cruisers on their way to Ireland and had outsailed them all. The Anacreon proved to be equally successful on its return voyage, capturing two English ships near the Orkneys after a stiff engagement, and finally landing Tandy and his associates in Norway. They landed at Bergen, and after suffering many trials and tribulations, sought to reach France by land. The cold became so intense that people were found frozen to death at the gate of Hamburg. Weary and footsore, Tandy arrived there at twilight on November 22, 1798.
There he was met by a man named Turner who was really a spy associated with Orr, but seeming to recognize in him a fellow Irishman, Tandy at once gave him his confidence and eagerly accepted an invitation from him to take supper. It has been said, but with how much truth cannot be vouched for, that Turner was one of those who was compelled to fly from his native land on account of the “Wearing of the Green.” At all events there was a verse in the popular ballad which ran thus:
“I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,
And he said, ‘How’s poor old Ireland, and how does she stand,
‘’Tis a most distressful country for it’s plainly to be seen,
They are hanging men and women for the “Wearing of the Green.”’”
Little did Tandy suspect that when he accepted this invitation to supper he was walking into a trap that had been set for him. Tandy and his fellow officers were lodged at an inn in Hamburg called the American Arms, and after finishing their meal they retired to their respective rooms. Tandy occupied himself in writing letters. He had many reports to make and explanations concerning the failure of his expedition. He stayed up nearly all night, and about five o’clock in the morning was startled by a loud tapping at his bedroom door. He opened it and an officer walked in followed by Sir James Crawford, British Minister at Hamburg. The officer turned to the Irishman and said:
“I would like to have a look at your passport.”
Tandy, although taken by surprise, was perfectly composed.
“If you will wait a moment,” he said, “I will get it for you.”
Turning around and going over to his trunk he lifted the lid very carefully and took out a pistol which he pointed at the soldier, exclaiming as he did so: