When Barry again returned to his quarters, he freely discussed his disappointment among his comrades, and declared his determination to lay the matter before the Commander-in-Chief, averring, with great earnestness, that he had always done his duty, and that he was not accountable for the state of the country, and should not be called upon to suffer for a condition of things outside and beyond his control, and which he was in no manner instrumental in bringing about. His argument seemed plausible enough, but then what, at any time, his argument, when it ran counter to the desires or intentions of his commanding officer? Therefore, the matter, after having been subjected to due discussion, was allowed to fall asleep in the usual stereotyped style; although as may be supposed, there were one or two breasts, at least, that were kept alive and active by it. Nicholas, believing that any intelligence of his embarrassment on the subject would but perplex and pain Kate, determined not to write to her regarding it, but to be the first to bear her the news himself. As already observed, she had written to him to procure his discharge at the earliest possible moment, and now to learn that his freedom was jeopardized for an indefinite period, involving, in addition, his return to England first, would be a renewal of her old agony. This he was determined to spare her; so, to those of his company in whom he could confide, and who were themselves ripe for any project that would tend to their total disseverment from the flag they so detested, he cautiously communicated his intentions, finding, in return, that more than one of them were on the eve of trying their fortune in the same manner. Soon, then, a sturdy little band had determined to leave the Fort, whatever night Barry should pitch upon; premising, of course, that it should be some one on which he would be on duty, and at a favorable point.
This much arranged, Greaves and Tom were made acquainted with the whole particulars of the plot; the former entering, to all appearance, heart and soul into it, and furthering it in every manner within the limits of his power. In fact, Greaves was actually behaving in a manner which staggered some suspicions still entertained by Tom, notwithstanding the letter to which reference has already been made, for he agreed to assist in forwarding the escape of one of Nicholas’ company that had deserted sometime previously, and was still concealed in the outskirts of the town, in a place known to Barry only, and where he was hemmed in by detectives from his regiment that were continually traversing the city in colored clothes, or stationed as look-outs at certain points in its vicinity. Barry was most anxious that this poor fellow should not be left behind, and as Greaves promised to procure a disguise for him and have him conveyed secretly to Tom’s on the night that the project of leaving the Fort was to be put into execution, Barry, at the request of Greaves, penned a note, which he hastily sealed with a love device well known to the deserter, and which he had himself received at the hands of the beautiful girl of his heart. The note ran thus:—
“Place the fullest confidence in the bearer. Follow his directions
implicitly. Your fate hangs in the balance. He will lead you to
where we shall meet. In great haste, &c.,
“NICHOLAS BARRY.”
This note he handed to Greaves, who immediately consigned it to his pocket-book, and set forth, as he alleged, to reconoitre the hiding place of the soldier, and make such arrangements in his behalf as the necessities of the case required.
As the brief missive just quoted was written in O’Brien’s, and in the presence of Tom himself, when Greaves left the premises, the host with some uneasiness observed:—
“I don’t know how it is, Nick, but somehow or other I cannot divest myself of sartain lurkin suspicions which I have of that man; although there is not a single Irish Nationalist in the city that would not offer him his hand and a glass afther seein the letther that I saw. However, you will remimber that the first night he came I didn’t warm to him, as I tould you, notwithstandin that I had to give up the next mornin. Still, and withal he appears to be actin fair, although I can’t make out exactly what he’s about here. Any way, in for a pinny in for a pound, so we must make the best of it; but, if I find that he is playin foul—well, God Almighty help him, and that’s all I’ll say. However, three nights from this will tell the whole story, and if you all make good your escape, you may take my word for it, I’ll make a clane breast of it to him and ask his pardon into the bargain. I think with you that it was wise not to write to Kate about your throuble and disappointment, or apprise her of your intintion, as it would only agonize the poor craytshure; but should you be foiled and taken, what a dreadful thing it would be for her to hear instead of the intelligence of your freedom, that you were in the depths of a dungeon from which you might have no manes of escape for years!”
Barry absolutely shuddered at the possibility of such a denouement to the scheme that now absorbed his whole mind and soul. Although sensible of the risk he ran, he never paused to regard the peculiar features of the case as presented by his friend; but now that they loomed up before him in such bold and fearful relief, he almost shrank from pushing farther the dangerous project he had undertaken. Yet, there was no other channel through which he could hope to become speedily the husband of the woman he loved; while, if he abandoned it, he might probably be separated from her forever, as he felt convinced, that should an ocean roll once more between them, she would not long survive the calamity. In a moment, then, the faintness of his heart had passed away, and in its stead came the firm resolve to prosecute his design to the death; feeling that imprisonment for any term of years on the shores trodden by the being he adored, was preferable to freedom, such as it was, in a land cut off from her by the trackless desert of the great deep.
Re-assured once more, then, he continued cautiously the preparations for his departure, attending to his duties with his usual assiduity, and still murmuring at the decision of the Colonel. Neither he nor Tom, of course, ever approached the hiding place of the refugee already mentioned, although they managed to hear from him occasionally, and to keep his spirits up. Had either, by day or night, ventured near his retreat, they could scarcely have escaped notice—the one from his soldier’s uniform and the other from his remarkable height and personal appearance; they were, therefore, with all their misgivings, relieved of their embarrassment in this relation, by the generous offer of Greaves, who, as it seemed, had abundance of means at his command to further any project that he might think proper to undertake relative to the escape of the deserter, or those who had now determined to join him.
In this way, then, matters stood on the very evening which was to close in the night selected by the intending fugitives, to put their designs into execution. Everything was ready, and as the clock struck twelve and the streets of the city were partially deserted, a cab rumbled up to the door of The Harp, and Greaves and a stranger, muffled to the eyes, stepping from it, entered the establishment and passed through the bar into Tom’s little parlor. Greaves had kept his faith—the stranger was the deserter!