It was a patriotic foreman ship-joiner, whom I knew well, who actually got him away to America.  My friend Egan had charge of the fitting up of the berths aboard the steamer in which Colonel Kelly sailed.  In emigrant steamers the usual practice was for temporary compartments to be made and taken down at the end of the voyage.  I had fitted up such berths myself, and therefore perfectly understood what my friend had done to secure Colonel Kelly’s escape when he described it to me afterwards at my place in Byrom Street.  Egan actually built a small secret compartment, so constructed as to attract no notice, and when Kelly was smuggled aboard at the last moment—­he might be supposed to be one of Egan’s men—­he was put into it and actually boarded up, sufficient provisions being left with him, until the steamer got clear of British waters, when he could come out with safety.

Deasy also made his way to America.

In speaking of the after-career of those assembled that night at
McGrady’s, I have sufficiently accounted for Michael O’Brien.

Rickard Burke, who also assisted at the same gathering, was a remarkable personality, and one of the most astute men I ever met.  He was a graduate of Queen’s College, Cork, and an accomplished linguist.  He was a skilful engineer, and had served with distinction in the American Civil War.  When I knew him he was about thirty-five years of age, tall and of fine presence.  To him was deputed the work of purchasing arms for the intended Rising in Ireland.

After many adventures, he fell into the hands of the police, was convicted, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment.  It was with the idea of effecting his rescue that the Clerkenwell Prison wall was blown up on December 13th, 1867, this insane plan causing the death and mutilation of a number of people.  Burke himself would probably have been killed had he happened to be confined in that part of the jail that was blown up.

While in Chatham prison he was reported as having lost his reason, and was removed to Woking.  The matter was brought before the House of Commons by Mr. McCarthy Downing, who suggested that Burke’s insanity had been caused by his treatment in prison.  He was released on Sunday, July 9th, 1871.

Captain Murphy, another of the company in our Scotland Road rendezvous, whom I had often met before, was a gentlemanly, genial man of portly presence, and an exceedingly pleasant companion.  After some time he found his way back to America.

Edward O’Meagher Condon was one of the American officers I most frequently came in contact with in Liverpool, previous to and after the Rising.  Since his return to America, after his release from penal servitude in 1878, we have frequently corresponded with each other.  From a report of a Manchester Martyr’s Commemoration in a newspaper which accompanied one of his letters, and conversations I had with him when I was delighted to have him as my guest during his recent visit to this country, I find he has just the same sanguine temperament as on that night at McGrady’s, when the chances of another Rising were being discussed.  In the report I refer to he says, “Had the Irish people been furnished with the necessary arms and munitions of war, which ought and could have been provided, they would have proved victors in the contest.”