The Insurrection in Dublin | Page 7

and looked towards the vociferous pailings. Then, and very
slowly, he began to draw the lorry out of the barricade. The shouts
came to him again, very loud, very threatening, but he did not attend to
them.
"He is the man that owns the lorry," said a voice beside me.
Dead silence fell on the people around while the man slowly drew his
cart down by the footpath. Then three shots rang out in succession. At
the distance he could not be missed, and it was obvious they were
trying to frighten him. He dropped the shafts, and instead of going
away he walked over to the Volunteers.
"He has a nerve," said another voice behind me.
The man walked directly towards the Volunteers, who, to the number
of about ten, were lining the railings. He walked slowly, bent a little
forward, with one hand raised and one finger up as though he were
going to make a speech. Ten guns were pointing at him, and a voice
repeated many times:
"Go and put back that lorry or you are a dead man. Go before I count
four. One, two, three, four--"
A rifle spat at him, and in two undulating movements the man sank on
himself and sagged to the ground.

I ran to him with some others, while a woman screamed unmeaningly,
all on one strident note. The man was picked up and carried to a
hospital beside the Arts Club. There was a hole in the top of his head,
and one does not know how ugly blood can look until it has been seen
clotted in hair. As the poor man was being carried in, a woman
plumped to her knees in the road and began not to scream but to
screetch.
At that moment the Volunteers were hated. The men by whom I was
and who were lifting the body, roared into the railings:--
"We'll be coming back for you, damn you."
From the railings there came no reply, and in an instant the place was
again desert and silent, and the little green vistas were slumbering
among the trees.
No one seemed able to estimate the number of men inside the Green,
and through the day no considerable body of men had been seen, only
those who held the gates, and the small parties of threes and fours who
arrested motors and carts for their barricades. Among these were some
who were only infants--one boy seemed about twelve years of age. He
was strutting the centre of the road with a large revolver in his small
fist. A motor car came by him containing three men, and in the shortest
of time he had the car lodged in his barricade, and dismissed its
stupified occupants with a wave of his armed hand.
The knots were increasing about the streets, for now the Bank Holiday
people began to wander back from places that were not distant, and to
them it had all to be explained anew. Free movement was possible
everywhere in the City, but the constant crackle of rifles restricted
somewhat that freedom. Up to one o'clock at night belated travellers
were straggling into the City, and curious people were wandering from
group to group still trying to gather information.
I remained awake until four o'clock in the morning. Every five minutes
a rifle cracked somewhere, but about a quarter to twelve sharp
volleying came from the direction of Portobello Bridge, and died away

after some time. The windows of my flat listen out towards the Green,
and obliquely towards Sackville Street. In another quarter of an hour
there were volleys from Stephen's Green direction, and this continued
with intensity for about twenty-five minutes. Then it fell into a sputter
of fire and ceased.
I went to bed about four o'clock convinced that the Green had been
rushed by the military and captured, and that the rising was at an end.
That was the first day of the insurrection.
CHAPTER II
TUESDAY
A sultry, lowering day, and dusk skies fat with rain.
I left for my office, believing that the insurrection was at an end. At a
corner I asked a man was it all finished. He said it was not, and that, if
anything, it was worse.
On this day the rumours began, and I think it will be many a year
before the rumours cease. The Irish Times published an edition which
contained nothing but an official Proclamation that evily-disposed
persons had disturbed the peace, and that the situation was well in hand.
The news stated in three lines that there was a Sinn Fein rising in
Dublin, and that the rest of the country was quiet.
No English or country papers came. There was no delivery or
collection of letters. All the shops