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THE WORKS OF STANLEY J. WEYMAN

VOL. XX

THE WILD GEESE


Thin Paper Edition of

Stanley J. Weyman's Novels

(Author's Complete Edition)

In 20 Volumes
Arranged Chronologically
With an Introduction in the First
Volume by Mr. Weyman

In clear type and handy size
To range with Henry Seton Merriman's Novels

Fcap. 8vo, Gilt Top, in Cloth and Leather

Vol.  1. The House of the Wolf.
 "    2. The New Rector.
 "    3. The Story of Francis Cludde.
 "    4. A Gentleman of France.
 "    5. The Man in Black.
 "    6. Under the Red Robe.
 "    7. My Lady Rotha.
 "    8. Memoirs of a Minister of France.
 "    9. The Red Cockade.
 "   10. Shrewsbury.
Vol. 11. The Castle Inn.
 "   12. Sophia.
 "   13. Count Hannibal.
 "   14. In Kings' Byways.
 "   15. The Long Night.
 "   16. The Abbess of Vlaye.
 "   17. Starvecrow Farm.
 "   18. Chippinge.
 "   19. Laid up in Lavender.
 "   20. The Wild Geese.

LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER & CO. and
LONGMANS GREEN & CO.




THE WILD GEESE



BY

STANLEY J. WEYMAN



LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER & CO.
(_For the United Kingdom_)
IN CONJUNCTION WITH CASSELL AND CO., LTD.; HODDER AND
STOUGHTON; METHUEN AND CO., WARD, LOCK AND CO., AND
LONGMANS GREEN & CO.
(_For the British Possessions and Foreign Countries_)
1911


1908 July    1st Edition
  "  Aug.    2nd Impression
  "  Oct.    3rd Impression
1910 July    4th Impression
  "  Nov.    5th Impression
1911 Mar.    6d. Edition
  "  Oct.    6th (Author's Complete Edition)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER                                            PAGE

    I. ON BOARD THE "CORMORANT" SLOOP                 1

   II. MORRISTOWN                                    15

  III. A SCION OF KINGS                              27

   IV. "STOP THIEF!"                                 42

    V. THE MESS-ROOM AT TRALEE                       57

   VI. THE MAITRE D'ARMES                            72

  VII. BARGAINING                                    90

 VIII. AN AFTER-DINNER GAME                         103

   IX. EARLY RISERS                                 119

    X. A COUNCIL OF WAR                             136

   XI. A MESSAGE FOR THE YOUNG MASTER               154

  XII. THE SEA MIST                                 171

 XIII. A SLIP                                       187

  XIV. THE COLONEL'S TERMS                          202

   XV. FEMINA FURENS                                218

  XVI. THE MARPLOT                                  235

 XVII. THE LIMIT                                    251

XVIII. A COUNTERPLOT                                268

  XIX. PEINE FORTE ET DURE                          285

   XX. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR                         301

  XXI. THE KEY                                      320

 XXII. THE SCENE IN THE PASSAGE                     336

XXIII. BEHIND THE YEWS                              350

 XXIV. THE PITCHER AT THE WELL                      368

XXV. PEACE                                          378




CHAPTER I

ON BOARD THE "CORMORANT" SLOOP


Midway in that period of Ireland's history during which, according to
historians, the distressful country had none--to be more precise, on a
spring morning early in the eighteenth century, and the reign of George
the First, a sloop of about seventy tons burthen was beating up Dingle
Bay, in the teeth of a stiff easterly breeze. The sun was two hours
high, and the grey expanse of the bay was flecked with white horses
hurrying seaward in haste to leap upon the Blasquets, or to disport
themselves in the field of ocean. From the heaving deck of the vessel
the mountains that shall not be removed were visible--on the northerly
tack Brandon, on the southerly Carntual; the former sunlit, with
patches of moss gleaming like emeralds on its breast, the latter dark
and melancholy, clothed in the midst of tradition and fancy that in
those days garbed so much of Ireland's bog and hill.

The sloop had missed the tide, and, close hauled to the wind, rode deep
in the ebb, making little way with each tack. The breeze hummed through
the rigging. The man at the helm humped a shoulder to the sting of the
spray, and the rest of the crew, seven or eight in number--tarry,
pigtailed, outlandish sailor men--crouched under the windward rail. The
skipper sat with a companion on a coil of rope on the dry side of the
skylight, and at the moment at which our story opens was oblivious
alike of the weather and his difficulties. He sat with his eyes fixed
on his neighbour, and in those eyes a wondering, fatuous admiration. So
might a mortal look if some strange hap brought him face to face with a
centaur.

"Never?" he murmured respectfully.

"Never," his companion answered.

"My faith!" Captain Augustin rejoined. He was a cross between a
Frenchman and an Irishman. For twenty years he had carried wine to
Ireland, and returned laden with wool to Bordeaux or Cadiz. He knew
every inlet between Achill Sound and the Head of Kinsale, and was so
far a Jacobite that he scorned to pay duty to King George. "Never? My
faith!" he repeated, staring, if possible, harder than ever.

"No," said the Colonel. "Under no provocation, thank God!"

"But it's _drole_," Captain Augustin rejoined. "It would bother me
sorely to know what you do."

"What we all should do," his passenger answered gently. "Our duty,
Captain Augustin. Our duty! Doing which we are men indeed. Doing which,
we have no more to do, no more to fear, no more to question." And
Colonel John Sullivan threw out both his hands, as if to illustrate the
freedom from care which followed. "See! it is done!"

"But west of Shannon, where there is no law?" Augustin answered. "Eh,
Colonel? And in Kerry, where we'll be, the saints helping, before
noon--which is all one with Connaught? No, in Kerry, what with
Sullivans, and Mahonies, and O'Beirnes, that wear coats only for a
gentleman to tread upon, and would sooner shoot a friend before
breakfast than spend the day idle, _par ma foi_, I'm not seeing what