“See who comes over the red blossomed heather, Their green banners kissing the pure mountain air, Heads erect! Eyes to front! Stepping proudly together… Out and make way for the bold Fenian men.”

This was well received. So much so that Surgeon Reynolds went on with all the rest of the verses hailing the fame of the Fenians. In the midst of all this jollity no one at first seemed to notice the two men who had entered and stood quietly by the door listening to the singing. It was only when Meagher went to refill his glass from the punch bowl that he noticed the newcomers and called out cheerily.

“Is that Gus Fox himself who has come to join us in our festivity? Come in, come in! Gentlemen of the Fenian Circle, meet the honorable Gustavus Fox, the Assistant Secretary of the Navy.”

He used that title, rather than any other that would explain their relationship. In truth, with his Fenian and other Irish contacts, Meagher had long been part of Fox’s intelligence-gathering organization.

“A glass of punch, now, that’s a good man. No, make it two, one each for Gus and his friend.”

They took the glasses, but before they could drink Fox raised his hand for silence, then took an official-looking envelope from his pocket. “I have just come from the War Department where, as you all undoubtedly know, they rest not nor do they sleep.”

There were catcalls and laughter at this. Fox waited for the sounds to die down before he held out the envelope. “This is for Colonel Meagher. Since I was on my way here I volunteered to act as messenger. Here you are, sir.”

Meagher read it through slowly, then climbed to his feet and called for silence.

“Boys, I want you all to hear this. You know that I have been in command of my regiment while we wait for General James Shields to arrive and assume command of the entire brigade. He’s Irish-born and a fine officer, or so I have been told. Unhappily for us the general has turned down command of the Irish Brigade. Sore news indeed.”

Meagher’s expression belied his words for he was smiling from ear to ear.

“Now I have even worse news for you. That good-for-nothing, lollygagging, Colonel Meagher has been appointed brigadier general and will take command at once.”

The news was greeted with great enthusiasm, more milk punch was poured, and Meagher was carried around the room on the shoulders of his officers. When the noise had abated slightly Fox added to the congratulations, then drew Meagher aside, towards the young man who had waited quietly by the door sipping his drink.

“Jim,” he said, “I want you to meet an associate of mine who has just returned from a fact-finding trip to Mexico. Jim Meagher, this is Ambrosio O’Higgins.”

“That’s a divil of a name for a good Irish lad. Welcome Ambrosio, welcome to the Fenian circle.”

“It is my pleasure to meet such a renowned officer,” O’Higgins said.

They shook hands and Meagher looked at those pale Irish eyes set in the lad’s well-tanned face, but forbore asking any questions. The rest of the officers were quiet now, intrigued by this mysterious stranger. It was Fox who broke the silence in a manner that instantly drew their attention.

“One of the things that O’Higgins recently found out was the fact that there are English invaders once more on our American shores.”

There was absolute silence now and the smiles were gone. Replaced by an intensity of feeling that emanated from these warriors’ faces.

“I have been in the south of Mexico,” O’Higgins said. “In the Mexican states of Vera Cruz and Oaxaca. I found there that there are many divisions of British troops that have been landed on the Pacific shore, theoretically invited into that country by the Emperor Maximilian. Who is himself a usurper, kept in power by the French invaders, who have driven into exile the legitimate government of Benito Juarez. They have even forced him to flee his country.”

“But — what are the British troops doing there?” Meagher asked, speaking for all of them. Fox answered first.

“They say they are building a road there in the jungle, nothing more. O’Higgins will tell you about it.”

“It is a tremendous mighty bit of work. For this purpose they have employed troops of many races. There are Indian regiments with the strangest of names. Dogras and Sepoys, and wee men from Nepal called Gurkhas who are the fiercest fighters in the world, or so I have been told. All of these, some English troops as well, are sweating and slaving in the jungle to build a road between the oceans. From the Pacific to the Atlantic.”

Meagher drank deep — then shook his head with befuddlement. “Now what in God’s green earth would be the need for a road across Mexico?”

O’Higgins gave a very Latin shrug. “They say it is to help the French collect the money that is owed to them.”

“Pull the other one!” someone shouted from the audience and they all called out in agreement. O’Higgins looked puzzled.

“The English are pulling your leg,” Meagher said. “Meaning that they are lying out and out about this road.”

“In that you are very right,” Fox said. “We know that this road is being built, because O’Higgins here has been to Mexico and watched them doing it. Here in Washington we think differently about the reason for its construction. All the evidence leads us to believe that the British are preparing for another invasion of this country.”

There was a roar of anger at this news, followed by a number of oaths in both English and Irish. They pressed more punch upon “Andy” O’Higgins — there was no way they could get their mouths around an outlandish name like Ambrosio — and called for more details. O’Higgins told them what he seen, and overheard, while Fox fleshed out the facts with the conclusions he had reached about what the road would be used for.

“What I have told you here is most secret, and is known to very few outside this room. I have taken you into my confidence because you are all good soldiers, good Americans — and Irish as well, which is of great importance. We in the military know that you still have the contacts in Ireland and England and that is why we need your help. There are warships being built now, in Ireland, England and Scotland. If I am correct there will soon be a great fleet assembled. I call upon you for aid in discovering the British plans—”

“We’re with you to the man!” Meagher shouted aloud, and the rest roared echo to his words.

“Good. We will work together in deciding what must be done and how to go about doing it. And I ask you to give your solemn word that nothing heard here shall be repeated outside this room.”

“You have our word and our pledge,” Meagher said, and the others murmured agreement. “There are informers in the Fenian ranks, both here and abroad, I am unhappy to say. Before you came, Gus, we were looking for new ways to organize our resistance movement, to make a plan that will put paid to all those that would sell their homeland for British gold. I think that you can guide us in this quest.”

“I certainly can. I think that you and I — and young O’Higgins here — can discuss details right after this meeting.”

There was much strong talk after that, while the punch bowl was well attended and filled more than once. When the punch was gone, and the officers ready to leave, Surgeon Reynolds called for silence.

“I have written a poem for Mother Ireland, that I was going to dedicate to the Fenian cause. Instead I dedicate it to our new commanding officer and our new comrade, Andy O’Higgins.”

Silence fell as he took a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He read;

“When concord and peace to this land are restored, And the union’s established forever, Brave sons of Hibernia, oh, sheathe not the sword; — You will then have a union to sever.”

This was greeted with shouts and grim nods of approval. The war with the South might be over. But for these dedicated officers the war with Britain never would be ended until Ireland was sovereign and free. They filed out into the night but Meagher, Fox and O’Higgins stayed behind: Meagher closed and locked the door behind them.