“Surrender your prisoners,” said a huge man in a voice of thunder—“surrender your prisoners—here are we ten to one against you; or if you don't, I swear there won't be a living man amongst you in two minutes' time. Mark us well—we are every man of us armed—and I will not ask you a second time.”
As to numbers and weapons the man spoke truth, and the military party saw at once that their prisoners must be given up.
“Let us have full revenge on them now, boys,” exclaimed several voices; “down with the tyrannical villains that are parse-cuting and murdherin' the country out of a face. This night closes their black work;” and as the words were uttered, the military felt themselves environed and pressed in upon by upwards of five-and-twenty sharp and bristling pikes.
“It is true, you may murder us,” replied the dragoon; “but we are soldiers, and to die is a soldier's duty. Stand back,” said he, “for, by all that's sacred, if you approach another step, William Reilly and that rebel priest will fall dead at your feet. We may die then; but we will sell our lives dearly. Cover the priest, Robinson.”
“Boys,” said the priest, addressing the insurgent party, “hold back, for God's sake, and for mine. Remember that these men are only doing their duty, and that whoever is to be blamed, it is not they—no, but the wicked men and cruel laws that set them upon us. Why, now, if these; men, out of compassion and a feeling of kindness to poor persecuted creatures, as we are, took it into their heads or their hearts to let that man and me off, they would have been, probably, treated like dogs for neglecting their duty. I am, as you know, a minister of God, and a man of peace, whose duty it is to prevent bloodshed whenever I can, and save human life, whether it is that of a Catholic or a Protestant. Recollect, my friends, that you will, every one of you, have to stand before the judgment throne of God to seek for mercy and salvation. As you hope for that mercy, then, at the moment of your utmost need, I implore, I entreat you, to show these men mercy now, and allow them to go their way in safety.”
“I agree with every word the priest has said,” added Reilly; “not from any apprehension of the threat held out against myself, but from, I trust, a higher principle. Here are only six men, who, as his Reverence justly said, are, after all, only in the discharge of their public duty. On the other hand, there are at least forty or fifty of you against them. Now I appeal to yourselves, whether it would be a manly, or generous, or Christian act, to slaughter so poor a handful of men by the force of numbers. No: there would be neither credit nor honor in such an act. I assure you, my friends, it would disgrace your common name, your common credit, and your common country. Nay, it would seem like cowardice, and only give a handle to your enemies to tax you with it. But I know you are not cowards, but brave and generous men, whose hearts and spirits are above a mean action. If you were cowardly butchers, I know we might speak to you in vain; but we know you are incapable of imbruing your hands, and steeping your souls, in the guilt of unresisting blood—for so I may term it—where there are so few against so many. My friends, go home, then, in the name of God, and, as this reverend gentleman said, allow these men to pass their way 'without injury.'”
“But who are you?” said their huge leader, in his terrible voice, “who presumes to lecture us?”
“I am one,” replied Reilly, “who has suffered more deeply, probably, than any man here. I am without house or home, proscribed by the vengeance of a villain—a villain who has left me without a shelter for my head—who, this night, has reduced my habitation, and all that appertained to it, to a heap of ashes—who is on my trail, night and day, and who will be on my trail, in order to glut his vengeance with my blood. Now, my friends, listen—I take God to witness, that if that man were here at this moment, I would plead for his life with as much earnestness as I do for those of the men who are here at your mercy. I feel that it would be cowardly and inhuman to take it under such circumstances; yes, and unworthy of the name of William Reilly. Now,” he added, “these men will pass safely to their quarters.”