They said nothing, but hauled me bodily into their own craft, and tied me hand and foot.
“Save your breath,” said one presently, “till it’s wanted.”
And I was flung like a sack on the floor of the boat.
“What’ll we do with yon?” said another, knocking his oar against the Knockowen boat.
“Capsize her and let her drift,” said the leader of the party.
So my old craft, which had carried me so often, and not me only but my little lady whom it seemed I was never to see more, was upset and turned adrift, to carry, for all I knew, the message of my fate to any whom it might concern.
It was almost dark already, and by the direction my captors rowed I concluded I was to be taken, not to Rathmullan, but to a landing-place nearer the lough mouth. They cruised about till it was quite dark, and then put in for a point called Carrahlagh, some miles south of my old home on Fanad. Here my feet were loosed and I was ordered to march with my company inland. The man with the gun walked by my side. The others, who as we went along were joined by some half-score of confederates at various points, who all gave a watchword on joining, talked among themselves eagerly.
Presently we came to a hill—one I knew well—and here the stragglers began to muster in larger numbers, till as we came to the hollow basin below the top I counted nearly fifty. A few of them I recognised as old gossips of my father’s, but for the most part they were strangers who seemed to have come from a distance.
About ten of the number carried guns, the rest were all armed with either clubs or sticks, while one or two carried rude pikes.
I noticed that one of my captors, not he who guarded me, was looked up to as the leader of the gathering; and when by common consent a circle was formed, and sentinels posted, one on either side of the hollow, it was he who stepped forward and spoke.