The first of the soldiers, kilts swaying as they marched, were moving out on the coast road south well before the last of the regiment had been rowed ashore.
“Get some scouts out ahead,” Major Bell ordered from the head of the column. He did not want them to march into any surprises: the sergeant-major sent them forward at double time.
Close to the village of Saint Cunning the marching column passed a fanner lifting potatoes in his field. Two of the soldiers hustled him back to Major Bell.
“Your name?”
“O’Reardon, your honor.”
“Has there been any military engagements here?”
“Not here, sir. But there was the sound of guns from Belfast, then at Larne. Began at dawn. Could hear them clearly, we could. I sent young Brian running to see what was happening. He only got as far as Ballyruther, down the road. As he was going through the village two soldiers came out of the shop and grabbed him. Frightened the bejeezus out of him.”
“English soldiers?”
“Indeed not, he said. Foreigners of some kind. Wearing sort of brown uniforms, talked so funny he couldn’t hardly understand them. They turned him back, didn’t harm him or anything. He even had the nerve to ask them what was happening. They laughed at that and one of them said, this is what Brian told me — we’ve come to set you free.”
“Indeed.” Major Bell scratched a note on his message pad and waved over a runner. “For the colonel.” He traced a new route on his map as he called out to the sergeant-major.
“The main force is going to bypass this village. But I am going to take a company to find out how many enemy troops there are there. See if we can’t get some prisoners.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant-major said, smiling. They had been in the barracks too long. It was about time for a fight.
It was not long in coming. As they came down the road towards the villages rifles cracked from the windows of the stone buildings. As they dropped, seeking shelter, there was a tremendous burst of firing and bullets tore the leaves from the trees, ricocheted from the stones, tore up the ground.
“Get back!” the major ordered. “Fall back to that stone fence!”
From the sound of the firing it sounded like he was facing an entire company.
Like all the other officers in the British Army he had never heard a Gatling gun before.
RAISE THE ALARM!
Captain Frederick Durnford was lunching ashore with Admiral Cousins, who was commander of the Plymouth Navy Yard. It had been a most pleasant meal, and the port that followed was of a much-valued vintage. Captain Durnford had just poured himself a good measure when an officer tapped on the door, came in and handed a message form to the admiral.
“What? What?” the admiral said as he opened the paper; the source of his nickname that everyone in the fleet — except him — knew. He read it quickly, then turned to Durnford, a look of dazed vacuity on his face. “Have they gone bloody mad at the admiralty — or is this true?”
“I have no idea, sir. What does it say?”
Cousins stumbled over the words. “It purports to say that the Americans have invaded Ireland. That they are attacking Belfast. All communication with Ireland has been severed. Mail boats haven’t arrived. The last part is addressed to you. You are ordered to take Conqueror and find out what is happening over there.”
Durnford’s chair crashed unnoticed to the floor as he sprang to his feet. “Your permission, Admiral, if I could, soonest…”
“Go man, go. And get us back a report as soon as possible. I have the feeling that this is all some ghastly mistake.”
Captain Durnford did not agree. The Admiralty, for all its imperfections, could not make a mistake of this magnitude. Something was very, very wrong in Ireland, of that he was very certain. He discovered when he returned that more detailed orders had been telegraphed to the ship and were waiting for when he boarded Conqueror, he read them through most carefully. He ordered his officers to the bridge as they got up steam, then rolled out the charts and pointed to their destination.
“Here,” he said. “We’ll clear The Lizard and Land’s End after dark. Hold a course towards Ireland with a landfall here at the Old Head of Kinsale. You must understand that, as of this moment, no one in government has the slightest idea of what is happening in Ireland. Except for the single report from Belfast we are operating in the dark. As you can well imagine, there is great agitation in high places. They have absolutely no information as to what is going on there — on land or at sea. However some action has been taken. Troops are being landed at Carlough Bay, north of Belfast. After our reconnaissance we are to report our findings by telegraph. Then sail north to add our presence to the landings there.” He tapped the map of Ireland, the coastline south of Cork. “Now I want some marines landed here under a good officer — you Strutten.” He nodded at his first officer. “Take them inland, into Kinsale. There is a constabulary barracks there. Find out if anyone knows what the devil is going on. Be smart about it, because you only have until an hour after dawn to get back to the beach.”
He looked grimly into the unknown future. “The ship will be off Cork at dawn. No idea what we’ll find. But I do know that I will not take this ship into battle — no matter how tempting the prospects. Whitehall wants information — not engagements. And the same applies to you, Lieutenant. Is that absolutely clear?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Make sure that this is understood by everyone in your landing party. If attacked they are of course to defend themselves. It is up to you to see that they are not placed in that position. I want information — not heroics.”
“I will do my best, sir.”
They headed north in the darkness. If there was a war in Ireland it appeared that it had not affected the maritime trade. The light on the Old Head of Kinsale was flashing. Conqueror approached it and slowed her engines in the deep water by the head. The ship’s boat was lowered, the very newest sort with its own steam engine. With the two squads of Royal Marines aboard, it chugged off into the darkness towards the shore. Throttled back, the ironclad stood out to sea again, timing her arrival for dawn off the mouth of the estuary.