got your son back, you must be perfectly happy.”
“I ought to be so, my dear young lady, and am indeed thankful to have him with me,” answered the widow; “but recollections of the past will intrude. I cannot help thinking how different would have been his lot had he not been unjustly deprived of his inheritance; and little good has it done those who got it. Wealth gained by fraud or violence never benefits the possessors.”
The widow, who spent much of her time in solitude, was inclined to talk when she found a willing listener. Ellen’s looks betokened sympathy, for she was aware of the wrongs the Massey family had endured.
“The O’Harralls were ever a lawless race,” continued Mrs. Massey; “they were leaders among the Rapparees in Cromwell’s and James’s times, and lived by robbing their countrymen and neighbours, till William of Orange established a firm government. They then exercised their cunning by means of the law, and, supported by the Evil One, their frauds were successful. Scarcely, however, had they gained possession of Tramore Castle and its broad lands than they took to their wicked courses. Denis O’Harrall set all the laws of God and man at defiance; yet, as he kept open house and entertained guests of high and low degree, he was universally popular till he had been brought to the verge of ruin. Such a father could not fail to bring up his sons ill: his eldest son was as extravagant and reckless as himself. Brian, his second, had more talent than his brother. Having been sent to college in Dublin, he at first gave some promise of turning out well. Owen was at that time acquainted with him, and, harbouring no ill-feeling, was ready to be on friendly terms; but Brian soon showed the cloven foot, and although he remained for some time, he was at length dismissed with ignominy. Living near the sea, he had been accustomed from his earliest days to go out with the fishermen, and to make short trips to Drogheda, Dungarvon, Youghal, and occasionally even further. After his return home, having no means of indulging in the bad courses to which he was addicted, he, it was said, joined a band of smugglers, who under his leadership became the most daring and successful of all the gangs of desperate men who carry on their illicit trade across the English Channel. Now they appeared in one part of the coast, now in another; so that, although a constant watch was kept for them, owing to the vigilance of their agents for several years, they never failed to escape the king’s cruisers. From long impunity becoming less cautious, a valuable cargo in which he had ventured all his property was captured, with himself and several of his companions, by a king’s ship. They were brought into Waterford, and were imprisoned in Reginald’s Tower, on the quay. During the night, however, they rose on the guard, whom they killed, to prevent alarm being given, and stealing a boat made their way down the river. In the harbour they found a Dutch ship, the Saint Peter, of Hamburg, which had put in from stress of weather. As she was on the point of sailing, they pretended that they had come down on purpose to take a passage on board her to Dantzic, for which port she was bound. The captain, believing their story, willingly received them, as they offered to pay a considerable sum for their passage-money. Scarcely, however, had they got out of sight of land than they set upon the captain and his officers and killed them all, and so overawed the men that no one dared to offer the slightest resistance. By threats and promises they induced the greater number to join them, and those who would not do so were thrown overboard. One, however, a good swimmer, recovering from the blows which had apparently killed him, got hold of a grating and was picked up the next morning. Being carried into Cork harbour, he gave information of what had occurred, and the authorities in all places along the coast were informed that they might seize the pirates should they appear. Their intention was to proceed up the British Channel, to plunder any vessel they could fall in with, and afterwards, when they had completed their cargo, to sell it and the ship. A violent north-easterly gale, however, drove them far away to the westward, and it was not till many days were over that they were again able to stand to the eastward. They had, as it happened, from not taking proper observations, got out of their reckoning; while steering, as they thought, up the Channel, they found themselves close in with the Irish coast. By this time being short of water and provisions, they ran into Dunmanus Bay, supposing that, no one suspecting their character, they might remain as long as was necessary to repair damages and to procure whatever they wanted. Among the crew was a young black, whose life had been spared under the idea that he was too stupid and ignorant to think of betraying them. As he appeared to be perfectly contented on board, he was allowed to be at liberty; but he was in reality a remarkably sharp lad, and only waited his opportunity to get on shore. One night, after the ship had been there two or three days, he managed to slip overboard, and, getting safely to land, made his way to Dunbeacon Castle, at the head of the harbour. He here described what had occurred, and it was at once guessed that the vessel in the bay was the one for which the authorities had been directed to be on the watch. A despatch was immediately sent off to Bantry; before the morning a party of soldiers arrived, and, procuring boats, boarded the ship and captured all found in her. The ringleader, however, Brian O’Harrall, was on shore, and though strict search was made for him he was nowhere to be discovered. He had friends in the neighbourhood, and it was only sufficient for them to know that the officers of justice were after him to induce them to assist in his escape. My son happened to be in Bantry at the time, just before he went to sea; to save the boy, who was carried there, from the vengeance of O’Harrall, he took him back to Waterford, and Captain Tracy received him on board the Ouzel Galley. It was from Pompey I heard all the particulars I have narrated. The five other men on board the Saint Peter were tried and condemned to death, and after their execution their heads were set up at Waterford, Youghal, Cork, Kinsale, and Blantyre. The ship and cargo being restored to the owners, O’Harrall was outlawed, and a price set on his head; but though, from time to time, he was heard of in connection with various desperate acts, he never failed to escape the grasp of justice. It was supposed that he at length joined a band of smugglers, though he has not for a year or more been heard of. He has, I should have said, a younger brother remarkably like him in character and appearance, who greatly assisted in his escape. This brother, Michael, made his appearance now in one part of the country, now in another, letting it be supposed that he was Brian; thus distracting the attention of those in search of the culprit. He is himself, from what I have heard, fully as determined a ruffian as Brian, and has long followed the same lawless pursuits.”
“What a fearful character!” exclaimed Ellen, shuddering; “and yet you say that Brian was at one time at college, mixing with young men of education and refinement.”
“Yes, and, with the talents and advantages he possessed, might have gained an honourable position in the county,” replied Mrs. Massey; “for, his elder brother having no children, he would probably have succeeded to the estate. I should have been more reconciled to the loss of Tramore had it been in possession of honourable people, who would have attended to the property and watched over the interests of the tenantry; and it is sad to see the place going to ruin, and the unfortunate people who might look up to the owner for assistance becoming every day more degraded and wretched.”
“But perhaps, Mrs. Massey, if the present owner should die, and as the wretched men you have been describing cannot succeed, you, or rather your son, may recover the property,” observed Ellen.
“I fear not,” answered the widow, with a sigh. “I do not understand legal matters, but the youngest brother might, I fancy, succeed in spite of his crimes, and without ample pecuniary means I believe that it would be impossible to regain the estate. I have long been reconciled to my lot, though I should be thankful could Owen avoid the necessity of going to sea, and enjoy a sufficient fortune to enable him to marry our dear Norah in the course of a year or two.”
“Now you have told me the particulars of this strange history, I shall not despair of success,” said Ellen. “The want of money must, at all events, not be a hindrance; there are, I am sure, those who would be ready to assist your son.”
Ellen sat on, readily listening to all the widow’s conversation; for, heartily sympathising with Norah, she was in no hurry to break in upon her and Owen’s tête-à-tête. However, the length of the shadows stretching across the lawn at last warned her that the evening was approaching, and she remembered that it would be disagreeable, if not dangerous, to be compelled to walk home in the dark. Norah, however, had not noted how time had gone by; but when she looked out of the window and saw that the sun was on the point of