Redmond O'Hanlon-Irish Outlaw

Redmond O’Hanlon an Irish nobleman moved silently through the dark streets of Dublin, making his way to the docks where a ship stood waiting to take him to France. He hated leaving his beloved Ireland, but there was naught to be done for it. Since Ireland lost the war to England, the English king had put out the word to bring him in dead or alive. So with every Englishman about hot on his heels it was the safest route.

A light flickered ahead of him. He quickly ducked inside a doorway. He watched as the light drew nearer until he could just make out the silhouette of a night watchman. “Shit”! He swore and pulled back farther into the shadows of the doorway, praying the watchman would walk by and not notice him.

No sooner had he moved then the watchman’s whistle rang out through the midnight air. Suddenly all was bedlam, the silence turned into a shouting match as his whistle brought dozens of other watchmen to the scene.

Redmond stood in the shadows weighing his possibilities when the watchman with several of his buddies ran right by where he stood hidden. Confused he stuck his head out and saw the watchman chasing after a man in a dark overcoat who apparently had tried to steal someone’s horse. He let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t after him. He stood silently waiting for the crowd to recede before making his move.

Sticking to the shadows he moved carefully through the streets, ducking in and out of doorways keeping out of sight of passersby. Finally the smell of the docks filled his nostrils. He was close to his goal.

“You there” a man’s voice called out from behind him. Redmond stopped and turning he looked to see who called to him. It was another watchman. Panicking Redmond began to run. “Stop” the watchman shouted, but Redmond ran on as fast as his feet would carry him. He wove through more streets taking a route that would not give his destination away. He ran until he thought his legs would give way. When he was sure he’d lost the watchman he turned and headed back toward the docks.

Relief flooded through him as the docks came into view. He made his way to where a small dingy sat moored. He climbed in and began to row out to the ship that lay anchored in the bay. Safety waited only feet away.

“Who goes there”? a voice rang out.

“It is I, O’Hanlon”. He answered as quietly as he could and still be heard.

“He’s made”. The voice cried out in disbelief. “By God he’s made it”.

A rope was let down, he grabbed hold and was hoisted aboard.

“Good to see you, lad”, the owner of the voice pulled him into a fierce hug.

“Good to see you too, uncle”. He returned the embrace relieved to see his uncle too had made it safely.

Together they turned to watch the last sight of Dublin fade from view. Sadness engulfed them as they realized they may never again see their beloved Ireland.