“The Fenians, sir,” he explained, “are a great and sacret society, wid tins of thousands of min enlisted here, an’ in Ameriky, an’ among the Irish in England, wid intint to rise up as wan man whin the time comes, an’ free Ireland. It’s a regular army, sir, that we’re raisin’, to conquer back our liberties, and dhrive the bloody Saxon foriver away from Erin’s green shores.”
The O’Mahony let his puzzled gaze wander along the beetling coast-line of naked rocks.
“So far’s I can see, they ain’t green,” he said; “they’re black and drab. An’ who’s this fellow you call Saxon? I notice O’Daly lugs him into about every other piece o’ po’try he nails me with, evenin’s.”
“Sir, it’s our term for the Englishman, who oppreases us, an’ dhrives us to despair, an’ prevints our holdin’ our hieads up amongst the nations of the earth. Sure, sir, wasn’t all this counthry roundabout for a three days’ journey belongin’ to your ancesthors, till the English stole it and sold it to Boyle, that thief of the earth—and his tomb, be the same token, I’ve seen many a time at Youghal, where I was born. But—awh, sir, what’s the use o’ talkin’? Sure, the blood o’ the O’Mahonys ought to stir in your veins at the mere suspicion of an opporchunity to sthrike a blow for your counthry.” The O’Mahony yawned and stretched his long arms lazily in the sunshine.
“Nary a stir,” he said, with an idle half-grin. “But what the deuce is it you’re drivin’ at anyway?”
“Sir, I’ve towld ye we’re raisin’ an army—a great, thund’rin’ secret army—and whin it’s raised an’ our min all dhrilled an’ our guns an’ pikes all handy—sure, thin we’ll rise and fight. An’ it’s much mistaken I am in you, O’Mahony, if you’d be contint to lave this fun go on undher your nose, an’ you to have no hand in it.”
“Of course I want to be in it,” said The O’Mahony, evincing more interest. “Only I couldn’t make head or tail of what you was talkin’ about. An’ I don’t know as I see yet jest what the scheme is. But you can count me in on anything that’s got gunpowder in it, an’ that’ll give me somethin’ to do besides list’nin’ to O’Daly’s yawp.”
“We’ll go to Cork to-morrow, thin, if it’s convanient to you,” said Jerry, eagerly. “I’ll spake to my ‘B,’ or captain, that is, an’ inthroduce ye, through him, to the chief organizer of Munster, and sure, they’ll mak’ ye an’ ‘A,’ the same as a colonel, an’ I’ll get promotion undher ye—an’, Egor! we’ll raise a rigiment to oursilves entirely—an’ Muirisc’s the very darlin’ of a place to land guns an’ pikes an’ powdher for all Ireland—an’ ’tis we’ll get the credit of it, an’ get more promotion still, till, faith, there’ll be nothin’ too fine for our askin’, an’ we’ll carry the whole blessed Irish republic around in our waistcoat pocket. What the divil, man! We’ll make ye presidint, an’ I’ll have a place in the poliss.”
“All right,” said The O’Mahony, “we’ll git all the fun there is out of it; but there’s one thing, mind, that I’m jest dead set about.” ..
“Ye’ve only to name it, sir, an’ they’ll be de-loighted to plase ye.”