Blake had been educated at a big English public school, where he had learnt that the keynote to an Englishman’s life is straightness. Further, in the British Army he had found that all good Britishers try their level best to run straight.

Early in 1921 there had been a strong rumour in the R.I.C. that the British Government had come to secret terms with Sinn Fein, and that after a period of window-dressing a truce would be declared; then would follow a lot of talk, and the terms of settlement would emerge. It was even reported that a conference had been held in Norway of representatives of the British Government and Sinn Fein, and also a representative from each of the Dominions, and a settlement arrived at.

At the time the Prime Minister fired off one of his loudest and most daring defiances at Sinn Fein: that he would never give in nor would he ever treat with the murder gang in Ireland, that the Crown forces in that country 301would be supported by all the resources of the Empire, and so on ad nauseam. And this, as Blake heard a cynic remark, was a sign that the sinister rumour was most likely true.

Blake had dismissed the idea with a laugh, but when the truce bomb burst his mind at once flew back to the secret settlement rumour, now months old, and he began to suspect with a horrible fear that they had been sold, and badly sold.

Naturally the first effects on the police were bad. The older men who had been let down before laughed and cried to each other, “Sold again!” but the younger ones, who had yet to learn the ways of politicians, took the matter to heart, and started to brood over it.

There were several questions to which they badly wanted an answer; the chief being, if there was to be this complete surrender, why had it not been made long ago, when the lives of many of their relations and pals in the Army and R.I.C. might have been saved, not to mention the lives of many Loyalists? These valuable lives had been freely given in order that Ireland should be freed from the murderous plague of gunmen, in the same way as during the late war the lives of the Empire’s best were sacrificed in order that we should be freed from the murderous plague of the Boches.

Further, they wanted to know what terms had been made with regard to their comrades who had fallen into the hands of the I.R.A.

The Loyalists were staggered, knowing that 302their worst fears would now be realised; to be handed over to the murder gang, which was the reward the cynics in the Dublin clubs had always prophesied, would be England’s return for the efforts of the Loyalists during the war. However, they could say nothing and do nothing, but simply make the best of their fate.

The neutrals, most of whom had changed their flag as often as the British Government had changed its mind, now, of course, openly threw in their lot with Sinn Fein.

The townspeople and farmers openly rejoiced at the prospect of even a temporary peace, though in their hearts many of them knew that there could be no real peace in Ireland until the gunmen had been wiped out or reduced to a state of impotence by disarming them. However, the future could take care of itself as far as they were concerned.

For the first few days of the Truce the Sinn Feiners appeared to be doubtful whether their wonderful good luck could be really true, and consequently lay low. Then men and boys who had been on the run for many moons returned to Ballybor, and gave an exhibition of “See the Conquering Hero Comes” in the streets daily; among them men wanted badly for atrocious murders, who now snapped their fingers openly in the faces of the police. A policeman could not walk the streets of Ballybor without meeting these swaggering fellows, who openly laughed and jeered at them when they passed.

However, a considerable number did not 303return, and on their relations inquiring about their whereabouts from the I.R.A. liaison officer, they were told they never would come back.

Gradually, being sure they were indeed safe, and that in truth they had the British Government on the run instead of being on the run themselves, they grew bolder and more insolent.

One brute went up to the sentry outside the police barracks and deliberately spat on him, hoping no doubt that the constable would lose his temper and break the truce. The constable stepped into the barracks and returned at once with the Sinn Fein flag, with which he carefully wiped the offending stains off his face and tunic under the nose of the astonished gunman. He then proceeded to stand on the flag in the mud, and asked the gunman, “What about it?” For some seconds the gunman stood irresolute, then turned and walked off, looking a complete ass, followed by the loud laughter of the police.

From now the Republicans proceeded to take over the government of the district, the police standing by helpless, bound hand and foot by the strict order that on no account were they to disturb the peace atmosphere. How the Boches must be laughing at us!

In every parish Republican Courts were advertised to be held in the local papers, and were held without let or hindrance, the advertisements stating that “Summons, &c., can be had on application to ——, Clerk of the Court.” And why not? Had not the I.R.A. beaten 304Lloyd George to his knees, and was not the British Government on the run?

To give the comical touch necessary in Ireland, the R.M. continued to receive instructions from the Castle to attend the various Petty Sessions Courts in every district and deal out the British version of the law. Probably the first time (and please God the last) that any part of Great Britain and Ireland has been governed by two sets of laws at the same time.

With regard to this disgraceful state of affairs one particular case will give a good illustration of how low British law has fallen in the west of Ireland.

A very decent man called O’Brien, who had been a herd to the Congested Districts Board, bought a farm from the Board with three other men, the farm being divided into four.

This did not suit the landless members of the Transport union in the district, whose idea was that they should have the land without paying for it. They told O’Brien to get out, but he refused; they then proceeded to smash the fences and drive and injure his cattle. O’Brien built up the fences and put his cattle back.

They next proceeded to beat O’Brien, who afterwards went into Ballybor but returned without taking any action, as they told him there that there was now no law in the country. That night they beat him again; the process consisted of first holding him while a powerful man closed his eyes with repeated 305blows of his fists, and then they hammered him to their heart’s content and left him in the road for dead.

Hours afterwards O’Brien crawled home on his hands and knees—he was practically blinded, and appears to have found his way home by instinct,—and some days afterwards, when he had recovered a little, he went to the police in Ballybor.

A magistrate happened to be at the barracks at the time, and insisted that steps should be taken to protect O’Brien and punish the savages who had beaten him, though the police told him that they were afraid that it was quite useless to try.

However, the magistrate took O’Brien’s information, the case came on week after week at the Ballybor Petty Sessions, always to be adjourned at the request of the police, waiting instruction from the Castle. At last O’Brien, in despair, took his case to the local Sinn Fein Court; and here the chief offender was fined ￡27 and the others large sums, and they were warned that if they interfered with O’Brien again they would be dealt with very severely.

And this is a good example of how British law protects a decent citizen in Ireland at the present time; but one forgets that the peace atmosphere must not be disturbed at all costs! But is there any wonder that the people are fast leaving the King’s Courts for those of Sinn Fein, and of their own free will now?

Republican Local Government inspectors appeared in every district, and quickly ousted 306the King’s inspectors; held courts of inquiry on unfortunate road surveyors who had refused to take the oath of allegiance to Dail Eireann, and tried to sack loyal dispensary doctors.

The chief amusement of the local gunmen on leave, and of their friends, male and female, was now to spend their time joy-riding through the countryside, flying Sinn Fein flags on their commandeered lorries and singing the “Soldier’s Song” whenever they passed any police or a barracks.

One expedition of this kind went out to Ballyrick on a Sunday and returned to Ballybor about midnight. Blake happened to be passing down the main street at the time, and encountered a party of drunken bank clerks trying to see how much row they could make.

Blake remonstrated with them, and told them that if they did not go home quietly he would have them arrested. One clerk at once started to sing the “Soldier’s Song” at the top of his voice, and another shouted at Blake in an insolent voice, “What about the truce, Mr B——, D.I.?” Blake saw red—he had borne and suffered much for many days,—and he gave the bank clerk a full drive on the chin which sent him flying. The whole party then swiftly retreated in silence.

The following day Blake paid a visit to the bank, and said to the clerk he had ousted the previous night, “Look here, Mr Bank Clerk, don’t think I hit you last night because you 307were drunk. There’s a fine open yard at the back of the barracks, and if you will come round now, we can fight it out.” Abject apologies from Mr Bank Clerk, and Blake left the bank.

One morning a woman arrived at the barracks in a state of great distress and asked to see ............