The Irish rebellion of 1916

by Nora Connolly O'Brien

"I don't think so," said Captain Mellowes.

One dealer broke in then demanding to know that if there was no danger, why could they not insure the cattle they wanted to send across. Then each dealer tried to give his opinion at the same time. They became so excited, each one trying to get an audience at the same time, that they forgot all about the priest, and gave back word for word to each other. With raised voices they cursed and swore, stamped their feet, pounded the floor with their sticks, struck their hands, till one jumped from his seat in a rage and his gaze fell on the priest. The priest was still resting his chin on his hands, taking no more notice of them than if they were miles away. His very abstraction was a rebuke to them. The one who had jumped up said humbly, "I'm afraid we've disturbed you, Father." Captain Mellowes came to himself with a start.

"No, no, not at all," he said hurriedly. "I wasn't thinking of you at all." But the men looked as if they had offended beyond hope of pardon and kept silent till we reached the boat.

Early next morning I went up on deck. We were steaming up the river, I could see the city in the distance. Nearer to me were the famous Belfast shipyards, all alive with the clangor of hammering. As we approached I could see the swarms of men, poised on derricks and cranes, hard at work on the skeletons of ships. Just before we docked Captain Mellowes came on deck and walked over to the rail where I was standing. There was some byplay of surprised recognition between us for the benefit of those standing around. I asked him to come to the house for breakfast, and told him that he could not get a train to Dublin before ten o'clock. It was then seven o'clock and the gangplank was being put in place. I told Captain Mellowes that I was well known on the docks since the dock strike, and that it would be wiser for him to follow me instead of coming with me; that he would probably pass the Harbor Constables and policemen better alone, because, as they knew me, they would be likely to give my companion a scrutinizing glance and he would be better without that.

There were two Harbor Constables and two policemen at the end of the gangplank; they were on the watch for deserters from the Army and Navy. When I walked down the gangplank I saw that they recognized me and was glad that I had told Captain Mellowes to follow. I went in to the shed and on towards the exit. Midway I paused, dropped my suitcase as if to ease my arm, and glanced back to see if Captain Mellowes was following. He was just at the end of the gangplank; the four constables were saluting him and he was gravely saluting them.

I passed out into the street and walked slowly ahead to allow Captain Mellowes to catch up on me. In a short while we were walking together. It was too early to get a tram, and it would attract too much attention if a car drove up to our door, so we walked the distance. Falls Road, in Belfast, is called the Nationalist district, and my home was near the head of that road. When we got to that part of it where policemen were more plentiful and I was better known, I told Captain Mellowes to walk on ahead. I was glad I had done so, for I derived a great deal of amusement from the number of salutes Captain Mellowes had to return. Men and boys were on their way to work and they all saluted him. Every policeman on the road saluted Captain Mellowes; not one of them dreaming that the capture of the young priest they were so courteous to, would probably realize for him the dreams of Sergeantship every young policeman indulges in.

It was with a sigh of relief that I ushered Captain Mellowes into our house. The door was open and we entered without rapping. My mother thought we were the painters—she was expecting them that morning—and came out to remonstrate with us for not knocking. She was astounded for a moment, to see us in the hall, then she threw her arms around us both and literally dragged us both into the room where breakfast was on the table. She then called up the stairs to my sisters and told them we were home. On the instant there was a clatter and scamper, and pell-mell down the stairs charged my young sisters, some partially dressed and some in their nightgowns; bursting into the room they flung themselves on Captain Mellowes, hugging and kissing him as if he were a long lost brother returned. They hung about him asking him questions, interrupting each other. They poured forth so many questions that he could not answer them much less eat his breakfast. Mother noticed that his breakfast was growing cold and turning to the youngsters said in a voice that tried to be severe, "Children. I'm surprised at you—look at your clothes." Then there was another rush to the door and a scamper on the stairs as they raced up to dress. Never were they dressed so quickly before, for in less time than it takes to tell they were down again; crowding around the table each giving the other in excitable voice the story of how Captain Mellowes managed to return; but none of them bothering to ask Captain Mellowes or myself how it really happened.

Now that Captain Mellowes was in Belfast the next thing to be done was to get him to Dublin. He could not go by train for there were detectives at all the stations. There have always been detectives at railway stations in Ireland, whose sole business is to watch and to report the arrival and departure of the important members of the Separatist Party (the revolutionary body). This method keeps the local authorities informed as to the whereabouts of "such and such a person." On this account I sought a friend who owned an automobile. It so happened that he was going to Dublin that very evening and he agreed to take Captain Mellowes with him.

When I arrived home again I saw a woman in the parlor, who looked up at me through her veil, in the most mournful way; certainly the most forlorn person I had seen in a long while. But as I went nearer I recognized the clothes. My young sisters had decked Captain Mellowes out in our clothes to see if they were skillful at disguising. They were—but the clerical clothes were better.

I told Captain Mellowes of the arrangements I had made—we were to walk into the country along the Lisburn Road for about two miles, and there meet the motor-car. When it was time we started out. We were a party of four, Captain Mellowes and another young man, who was at that time hiding from the police in our house, my sister Agna, and myself. We walked along the country road and arrived at the appointed place too soon. The car was a little late; every car that came along would lift our hearts up and when it whizzed by would leave us little more nervously excited. It came in the end, however, and stopped for a minute while Captain Mellowes was being bundled on to the car, then sped away leaving us in the dark country road.