John Walsh described how, when the rescued men were being driven in two traps from Freemantle to Rockingham, to be taken on the whale-boat to the Catalpa, which was lying off the coast awaiting them, he and his friend started with them, and remained behind to stop pursuit.  He also described the attempt to recapture the escaped men, as told in Breslin’s narrative, and how the attempt failed.

My own connection with this incident was that the funds, or some part of them, for John Walsh’s expedition passed through my hands between their collection and their distribution.

On Monday, August 21st, 1876, while we were holding the Annual Convention of the Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain, in the Rotunda, Dublin, the joyful news reached us that the Catalpa, having on board the rescued men and their rescuers, had safely reached New York.  The news was received with the wildest enthusiasm.  The terrible strain of the last four months had passed, and we were relieved from the constant dread that, after the gallant rescue, the men might again fall into the hands of the enemy.

A few more words about the Breslins before finishing this chapter.  Michael went back to America after his escape from arrest in Birmingham.  I have corresponded with him from time to time ever since.  A letter of mine to Michael, written after he finally went to America, came back to me in a very curious manner.  A gentleman came into my place of business in Liverpool one day, and presented to me, as an introduction, a letter I had sent to my friend about a month previously.  I was somewhat suspicious about this.  I told him there was nothing to show that my letter had ever been in Breslin’s hands at all.  The gentleman agreed that I was right, and said he would merely ask to be allowed to leave his luggage for a short time.

I got a careful watch kept on his movements in Liverpool, but nothing more suspicious was reported than that he had been seen to enter a Catholic church, where he had gone to Confession.

My friend William Hogan was in my place when my messenger returned, and when he heard this, exclaimed, in his usual impetuous style—­“He’s a spy!”

The deduction might not seem obvious, but, doubtless Hogan had in his mind one or two of the worst cases of the anti-Fenian informers, who made a parade of great piety a cloak for their treachery.

The gentleman returned and reclaimed his luggage, and I heard nothing further of him for about a month afterwards, when I had a letter from Michael Breslin, saying that his friend, whom I had treated with such suspicion and such scant hospitality, was Mr. John B. Holland, the famous submarine inventor.  He was, I believe, in this country in connection with his invention.