Blangr: переводы

→The aftermath was marked by the massacres of captured and wounded rebels with some on a large scale such as at New Ross and Enniscorthy. Rebel prisoners were regarded as traitors to the Crown, and were not treated as prisoners of war, but were executed. County Wexford was the only area which saw widespread atrocities
committed by the rebels during the rebellion. Massacres of loyalist prisoners took place at the Vinegar Hill camp and on Wexford Bridge. After the defeat of the rebel attack at New Ross, the 'Scullabogue Barn Massacre' occurred where between one hundred and two hundred mostly Protestant men, women, and children were imprisoned in a barn which was then torched. In Wexford town, on 20th June some seventy loyalist prisoners were marched to the bridge and piked to death.

→The government responded to widespread disorders by launching a counter-campaign of martial law in early 1798. Its doctrines used tactics such as planting spies, half-hangings, house burnings, pitch- capping and murder, particularly found in Ulster as it was the one area of Ireland where Catholics and Protestants had achieved a common cause of revolt. A plan to take Dublin was thwarted, but just after sunrise on 24th May, pockets of insurgents rose and the fighting quickly spread throughout the country over the next four months.

→Led by Theobald Wolf Tone, a barrister, he vowed to "break the connection with England" as the group was driven underground. A planned uprising with French military help resulted in a series of blunders and the first invasion faltered and the fleet sailed home.

→From the very beginning, Dublin Castle, the seat of government in Ireland, viewed the new organisation with suspicion, and with the outbreak of war between Britain (including Ireland) and France in February 1793, mistrust turned to naked hostility. The Society members were viewed as traitors and it was suppressed in 1794.

→The Society of United Irishmen, a republican revolutionary group founded in Belfast, 1791, and influenced by the ideas of the American and French revolutions, were the main organising force behind it. They came together to secure a reform of the Irish parliament and did this by uniting Roman Catholics, Presbyterians, Methodists, other Protestant "dissenters" groups.

→Johnson made an almost apologetic face. ‘The rebels have already thrown my lads out once. They are hard-pressed.’

→‘Sir?’ Mullone prompted.

→The general blew out a lungful of breath. ‘That might prove impossible . . .’ His voice trailed off.

→‘The bridge, sir. If your men can reach it, then perhaps my chances will increase.’

→Johnson watched the Germans clear the houses, darting forward like professional soldiers, watching, aiming and covering each step. One pair spotted an enemy marksmen firing from a rooftop and put a bullet in him. The body slid down the slate tiles, leaving a trace of blood behind. One of the Germans whooped with glee. ‘Enniscorthy is thick with the mob, Major. I fear you’ll never catch him.’

→Mullone looked towards the houses. ‘A source has confirmed he’s in the town, sir.’

→‘Yes, I remember. And?’

→‘When we first met I told you I was looking for a French spy by the name of De Marin. He masquerades as a priest; a Father Keay.’

→‘No, sir. I need to ask you something.’ Johnson lifted his chin. ‘Go on.’

→Johnson was a tall man; gangly and narrow-shouldered with a face lined with age and a long nose. In the recent weeks, his face had become somewhat pinched as though he was worn down with the stress of the rebellion. He looked sideways at Mullone. ‘More government work, eh? What the hell brings you here? Your troopers are helping to guard the baggage. Have you come for them?’

→Mullone found General Johnson directing two companies of green-coated riflemen into the narrow, cobbled streets. They were Germans from the 5th Battalion, 60th Rifles, and they ran forward in skirmish order. Beyond the roof tops, a thick plume of smoke carried from two burning buildings obscured the savagery ensuing on Vinegar Hill. A volley of musket fire hammered at a group of Light Bobs from the Dumbarton Fencibles, a Scottish regiment who wore bonnets and kilts. The Scotsmen were crouched behind walls,
gardens and houses. One spun away and another staggered, clutching his side.

→‘Sir!’ Cahill called urgently and Mullone twisted back in his saddle.

→Mullone saluted, made sure the officer had left, and the three of them climbed down the slope to cross a ford two miles north. The cold water of the River Slaney reached their knees, but they had crossed the high grass-strewn banks without any confrontation with the pockets of rebels. They followed a track made of ancient wheel ruts to the town. Scores were streaming across Enniscorthy’s seventeenth-century stone bridge where shouting and heavy musketry echoed loudly. The Norman castle dominated the town, which was garrisoned with redcoats. The Union Flag flew tall from the battlements.

→‘Captain Bloomfield, sir,’ he said, saluting. He was a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair.

→They were about to move away when an artillery officer rode up to them, his bay horse slick with sweat.