An Adventure of Hardress Fitzgerald, a Royalist Captain Page #3

"An Adventure of Hardress Fitzgerald, a Royalist Captain" is a historical novel by Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu, set during the tumultuous times of the English Civil War. The story follows Hardress Fitzgerald, a valiant Royalist captain, as he navigates a world filled with intrigue, loyalty, and betrayal. The novel explores themes of honor and duty while depicting the struggles between royalists and parliamentarians. Le Fanu weaves a tale rich in atmospheric detail and character development, highlighting the personal and political conflicts of an era defined by its fervent loyalty and passionate disputes.

• Fiction

								

sitting upon such blocks of stone as happened to lie in the way; others
stretched at their length upon the ground.

'God save you, boys!' said I, advancing towards the party.

The men who had been talking and laughing together instantly paused,
and two of them--tall and powerful fellows--snatched up each a weapon,
something like a short halberd with a massive iron head, an instrument
which they called among themselves a rapp, and with two or three long
strides they came up with me, and laying hold upon my arms, drew me,
not, you may easily believe, making much resistance, towards the fire.

When I reached the place where the figures were seated, the two men
still held me firmly, and some others threw some handfuls of dry fuel
upon the red embers, which, blazing up, cast a strong light upon me.

When they had satisfied themselves as to my appearance, they began to
question me very closely as to my purpose in being upon the hill at
such an unseasonable hour, asking me what was my occupation, where I had
been, and whither I was going.

These questions were put to me in English by an old half-military
looking man, who translated into that language the suggestions which his
companions for the most part threw out in Irish.

I did not choose to commit myself to these fellows by telling them my
real character and purpose, and therefore I represented myself as a
poor travelling chapman who had been at Cork, and was seeking his way
to Killaloe, in order to cross over into Clare and thence to the city of
Galway.

My account did not seem fully to satisfy the men.

I heard one fellow say in Irish, which language I understood, 'Maybe he
is a spy.'

They then whispered together for a time, and the little man who was
their spokesman came over to me and said:

'Do you know what we do with spies? we knock their brains out, my
friend.'

He then turned back to them with whom he had been whispering, and talked
in a low tone again with them for a considerable time.

I now felt very uncomfortable, not knowing what these savages--for they
appeared nothing better--might design against me.

Twice or thrice I had serious thoughts of breaking from them, but the
two guards who were placed upon me held me fast by the arms; and even
had I succeeded in shaking them off, I should soon have been overtaken,
encumbered as I was with a heavy pack, and wholly ignorant of the lie of
the ground; or else, if I were so exceedingly lucky as to escape out of
their hands, I still had the chance of falling into those of some other
party of the same kind.

I therefore patiently awaited the issue of their deliberations, which I
made no doubt affected me nearly.

I turned to the men who held me, and one after the other asked them, in
their own language, 'Why they held me?' adding, 'I am but a poor pedlar,
as you see. I have neither money nor money's worth, for the sake of
which you should do me hurt. You may have my pack and all that it
contains, if you desire it--but do not injure me.'

To all this they gave no answer, but savagely desired me to hold my
tongue.

I accordingly remained silent, determined, if the worst came, to declare
to the whole party, who, I doubted not, were friendly, as were all the
Irish peasantry in the south, to the Royal cause, my real character and
design; and if this avowal failed me, I was resolved to make a desperate
effort to escape, or at least to give my life at the dearest price I
could.

I was not kept long in suspense, for the little veteran who had spoken
to me at first came over, and desiring the two men to bring me after
him, led the way along a broken path, which wound by the side of the
steep glen.

I was obliged willy nilly to go with them, and, half-dragging and
half-carrying me, they brought me by the path, which now became very
steep, for some hundred yards without stopping, when suddenly coming to
a stand, I found myself close before the door of some house or hut,
I could not see which, through the planks of which a strong light was
streaming.

At this door my conductor stopped, and tapping gently at it, it was
opened by a stout fellow, with buff-coat and jack-boots, and pistols
stuck in his belt, as also a long cavalry sword by his side.

He spoke with my guide, and to my no small satisfaction, in French,
which convinced me that he was one of the soldiers whom Louis had sent
to support our king, and who were said to have arrived in Limerick,
though, as I observed above, not with truth.

I was much assured by this circumstance, and made no doubt but that I
had fallen in with one of those marauding parties of native Irish, who,
placing themselves under the guidance of men of courage and experience,
had done much brave and essential service to the cause of the king.

The soldier entered an inner door in the apartment, which opening
disclosed a rude, dreary, and dilapidated room, with a low plank
ceiling, much discoloured by the smoke which hung suspended in heavy
masses, descending within a few feet of the ground, and completely
obscuring the upper regions of the chamber.

A large fire of turf and heath was burning under a kind of rude chimney,
shaped like a large funnel, but by no means discharging the functions
for which it was intended. Into this inauspicious apartment was I
conducted by my strange companions. In the next room I heard voices
employed, as it seemed, in brief questioning and answer; and in a minute
the soldier reentered the room, and having said, 'Votre prisonnier--le
general veut le voir,' he led the way into the inner room, which in
point of comfort and cleanliness was not a whit better than the first.

Seated at a clumsy plank table, placed about the middle of the floor,
was a powerfully built man, of almost colossal stature--his military
accoutrements, cuirass and rich regimental clothes, soiled, deranged,
and spattered with recent hard travel; the flowing wig, surmounted by
the cocked hat and plume, still rested upon his head. On the table lay
his sword-belt with its appendage, and a pair of long holster pistols,
some papers, and pen and ink; also a stone jug, and the fragments of a
hasty meal. His attitude betokened the languor of fatigue. His left hand
was buried beyond the lace ruffle in the breast of his cassock, and the
elbow of his right rested upon the table, so as to support his head.
From his mouth protruded a tobacco-pipe, which as I entered he slowly
withdrew.

A single glance at the honest, good-humoured, comely face of the soldier
satisfied me of his identity, and removing my hat from my head I said,
'God save General Sarsfield!'

The general nodded

'I am a prisoner here under strange circumstances,' I continued 'I
appear before you in a strange disguise. You do not recognise Captain
Hardress Fitzgerald!'

'Eh, how's this?' said he, approaching me with the light.

'I am that Hardress Fitzgerald,' I repeated, 'who served under you at
the Boyne, and upon the day of the action had the honour to protect your
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes