any of the other prisoners had any contact whatever with the outside world! Not until many years later did I ever "confess" to Crawford that it was not the Canon but I, myself, who was to blame for his being fired from the hospital ward. The Assistant Catholic Chaplain was a very nice, friendly man and, on the few occasions he saw the prisoners, he tried to help us as best as he could. One day, one of the warders, who was very decent to us, suggested that I talk to one of our lads who was rather careless and indiscreet in his talks. The warder gave me an opportunity to do so, and I took my man to task. This pal tried to tell me that the warder was only trying to find out all about us, that he had not volunteered the information but that it was the warder who [42] who had questioned him. I knew he was not telling the truth as the British had all the records necessary concerning us. As a matter of fact this friendly warder had told me that the numbers of all ten of us Irish prisoners were posted in a very prominent place for each warder to see, and that all the warders had been warned to keep a close eye on the ten of us. Then, furthermore, there were occasional "search raids" which always took place when certain particularly "sharp" warders came into our cells. At those times we had to divest ourselves of all our clothing while the warders went over every nook and cranny leaving nothing unsearched. So, I knew that it was our fellow who had been "shooting off his mouth" AND, WHILE I am sure he had no intention of doing so, he certainly did need a warning. One day, I came across a small stub of pencil, about one half inch long, and a few days later, when a sudden raid came, I had kept it in my mouth and did not speak but stood, apparently in a "sullen" mood, in one corner of my cell waiting until the warders left. Later, I used to hide my little treasure in the spine of the Bible. Then came a day when the Church of England Chaplain invited us to a lecture. Some of our lads got messages to me saying that they would not go since they would have to stand up at the playing of the British national anthem "God Save the King". I, however, greatly welcomed the diversion and told them quietly to go anyhow but simply to remain seated at the playing of the anthem, as I planned to do. Actually, there was no need for our planning for the anthem was never played and the lecturer gave an excellent talk on Oliver Goldsmith which we thoroughly enjoyed. Next day, the Church of England came to my cell to ask me how I had liked the lecture and I told him that it was truly delightful and a real treat for us and that some of the Lecturer's jokes and the responses reminded me so much of Goldsmith as every time the prisoners laughed - there were 300 there - I had been reminded of the Village Schoolmaster and his pupils. Then I quoted: And well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes for many a joke had he. The Chaplain burst out laughing and then said, he would definitely repeat this to the lecturer who would certainly be delighted to know his talk had met with so much interest and enjoyment. It was of my last talks with this so very understanding and friendly Chaplain of the Church of England and, on parting, and shaking his hand I said, "Chaplain, if we will ever meet again, my country will be free!''[43] With true warmth he pressed my hand and said, "Good luck to you, and I hope so too!" It was around that time that Connie McNamara, who had secreted away two ten shilling notes, came to me and gave me the notes. I carefully stitched them into two scapulars and then tried to bribe the warders with the money to get us some extra food. But they were too careful and would not have anything to do with us, so, and when I was released, I brought the money out of jail with me. For many months before leaving, one of the Chief Warders used to come into the cell around 7 a.m. or so. Then, he would start and talk to me of how little the individual gained while the leaders always got the best of it and all the luxuries. (of course, one of his prime reasons for coming in was to check up too that I had not, perhaps, filed through any of the bars outside the windows during the night! ... what with, I often thought, perhaps my bare teeth!?) Anyhow, and one morning, when he talked again of the poor suppressed people, I reminded him that the leaders of the French Revolution, who acted in just that way, were finally executed by their very own followers and I mentioned the names of Marat, Robespierre, Danton, etc. Well, that promptly ended that morning's conversation. On another occasion, I reminded him that the England, his own country, pretended to enter into and fight during World War 1 in order "to free the small nations" of which Ireland was one too; and that all Ireland wanted was to
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