Barker’s plan went off as hoped, we would give them a show they wouldn’t soon forget.
As if on cue, everyone came together and perched on a ring of rocks that had once formed the base of an ancient home or fort. We sat in a semicircle, facing the sea, while Alfred Dunleavy stepped up on a tall, flat rock and addressed us.
15
“Sons of Ireland,” Dunleavy began, clutching the lapels of his military coat, “I thank you for taking time away from your daily lives and coming all this way for a demonstration. I must admit to you that I had grown a little discouraged lately regarding our situation with England. Mr. Parnell does little save flatter society matrons and squander our precious funds, while Gladstone stands like a farthing in a crack, refusing to fall either way. I was sure that our little attack upon London would topple him, but apparently he’s set in stone. They are a flinty-hearted race, the English. We had shot our bolt, and they’d absorbed it, almost without a trace, and our supply of precious dynamite was old and faulty. What would we do next? I wondered.
“Then, as if by Providence, whom should I meet but the great Johannes van Rhyn himself. His reputation as a bomb maker and revolutionary is legendary. He understood our struggles and offered his services to us. I took heart again. With such expertise, surely we cannot fail!
“But, I see I have forgotten Mr. Penrith. He began as an apprentice in the revolutionary trade under Mr. van Rhyn, but even the maestro will admit that in some matters, the student has surpassed his teacher. He was trained at Mr. Alfred Nobel’s own factory near Glasgow. When looking at Mr. Penrith, one is first struck by how young he looks. Yet he is a seasoned veteran in the war against tyranny and as anxious to help us as Mr. van Rhyn. We are privileged to have such a fine young man with us today.”
Everyone applauded. I could feel the heat of my blushes around my collar.
“These two gentlemen have worked for days to set up a display of their abilities for us all. Foreign governments would have traveled far to witness these marvels. And you can believe that after seeing such a sight as this the representatives of Her Majesty’s government would be shaking in their boots. But none of them may see it, for this demonstration is for our eyes alone. I must ask you, on your oaths as protectors of Ireland, to keep absolutely silent about what you see here today for a while, at least. Someday, perhaps, this event will be spoken of with pride and hushed tones in the pubs of Dublin and Cork, Boston and Chicago, but for now I ask silence.
“Speaking of silence, it is time for me to stop rambling and to turn this rude stage over to the gentleman who has done more for the cause of freedom than I ever shall. Gentlemen, and lady, I give you Johannes van Rhyn!”
Barker stood and bowed gravely. He cleared his throat and began in that bass rumble of his. “Mr. Penrith and I have collaborated in preparing for you a demonstration of some of the latest advancements in infernal devices. Perhaps you will allow me a moment to light a cigar, because I shall need it for my work.”
After Dunleavy’s introduction, my employer was deliberately lowering their expectations. They were expecting a show and he appeared ready to deliver a lecture instead.
“Mr. Penrith, the sphere, please.” Barker took the bomb and held it aloft for all to see. “
Barker used his cigar to light the fuse, and it sputtered to life.
“I am not a dynamiter, of course,” he said conversationally, as the fuse vanished inch by inch, “nor am I as young as I once was, but I hope to throw this far enough so that the shrapnel does not harm any of you.”
My employer leaned back and hurled the bomb, watching as it arched to the left. It bounced and rolled across the clearing like a
“Here now are three sticks of dynamite Mr. Penrith has tied together. Dynamite is nitroglycerin which has been soaked into kieselguhr to render it safe, though not too safe, I fear, as the brother of Mr. Nobel would attest, were he alive to do so. Dynamite has been a boon to bombers everywhere.”
He lit the fuses with his cigar and threw the bundle of dynamite among some clumps of sea grass. The explosion was louder and more powerful than the one before, blowing stalks high into the air. Miss O’Casey and Willie Yeats held their ears.
“Let us move on,” Barker said in a professional manner. “I draw your attention to that ancient dolmen over there, close to the sea. We have taken the opportunity to build a low-grade bomb from materials we acquired, and attached it with a pistol and primer to a timing device. How much time have we left, Mr. Penrith?”
I had made my way to the dolmen and set the timer as he was speaking. I came back, consulting the watch Barker had lent me for the demonstration.
“Forty-five seconds, sir,” I called out, making my way back to the circle. Everyone was leaning forward. They were looking the worse for wear, I thought, with bits of grass in their hair and dirt on their clothes. Fifteen seconds went by. No one spoke. Thirty. Forty-five. A minute.
“It didn’t-” Eamon O’Casey began, when the air was suddenly ripped by an explosion. The large rock atop the dolmen convulsed and split down the middle, like the veil in Herod’s temple on Easter morning. The air was full of smoke and dust.
“It was late,” Barker complained.
“I am sorry, sir.”
“It is not an exact science, you see, gentlemen,” the Guv explained. “The more complicated the bomb, the more things can go wrong. Complications can also lead to better results. Mr. Penrith has been playing with the old cakes of dynamite and has added a little something of his own to liven them up. So far, we have used fuses and a timer. I have here a commercial detonator. I would like to demonstrate how easy it is to use. Miss O’Casey, would you like to come forward and do the honors?”
“I?” the girl asked, looking reluctant.
“It is easy to use. Come, miss. Just put both hands on this rod of wood here. Now push down.”
Gingerly, Maire O’Casey pushed down the plunger. The old lighthouse gave a convulsive leap in a massive explosion, rising it at least ten feet off the ground. The bottom half shivered into bits, but the top flew headfirst into the sea. The concussion blew past me and knocked everyone flat except the two of us, who had been prepared. Barker made some final comment loudly, but I had momentarily lost my hearing.
O’Casey recovered first, a look of awe and joy on his face. Dunleavy was next, blinking, his mind calculating what this might mean for Irish freedom. McKeller was still on the ground, but he was holding his sides and laughing. The Bannon brothers had been knocked all in a heap. Only Yeats did not look happy. He fumbled with his pince-nez, glowered at us, and rose.
Maire had received a small cut on her forehead from the debris, and he rushed forward to dab it with a handkerchief. From my position between O’Casey and McKeller, I couldn’t see how she was. I was still stunned that Barker had used the girl for the demonstration. I didn’t approve of her detonating the bomb, and would have voiced my objection to my employer had her brother not been shaking me hard by the shoulders and thumping me on the back.
“By the saints, that was absolutely bloody incredible! I thought you were going to launch that old lighthouse, like a Roman candle, right over London! With explosives like this, our mission can’t fail!”
Fergus McKeller was still laughing so hard that tears were running down his ruddy cheeks. He finally sat up, his feet spread out like a boy at play in the dirt, then bawled over his shoulder.
“Colin! Padraig! Get up, ye buskers! Go find your fiddle and your whistle, and let’s have us a ceilidh!”
Slowly, the group came to life again. Maire stood and checked her hair, then began to set out the food. Yeats brought more provisions from the cart, complaining that the horses were panic-stricken. Fergus McKeller hammered a spigot into the barrel of stout, while Colin and Padraig Bannon began to warm up their instruments. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of my first ceilidh. We Welsh are a more sedate group of Celts than our Irish brethren, thanks
