The 13th Apostle: A Novel of a Dublin Family, Michael Collins, and the Irish Uprising Read Online Free

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    A man with a bucket, brush, and posters under his arm stepped up to the left wall of the gate and started splashing paste on the gray stone. “Hot off the presses from Liberty Hall,” he shouted as he posted the declaration:
    POBLACHT NA H ÉIREANN.

    THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT
    OF THE
    IRISH REPUBLIC
    TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND.
    Civilians and Volunteers rushed up to see the proclamation, pushing against each other to get the first glimpse. The man with the posters went to the opposite wall and plastered another proclamation. Eoin and the children followed him. “Can I have one of those?” asked Eoin.
    “I don’t see why not!” said the man as he stripped one off his arm and handed it to him. Eoin rolled his own personal copy up and began reading the posted one as others began crowding around him:
    IRISHMEN AND IRISHWOMEN: In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom .
    “Eoin, Eoin,” said Mary, “what’s it’s all about?”
    “Hush,” said Eoin as he continued to read:
    We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible. The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people and government has not extinguished the right, nor can it ever be extinguished except by the destruction of the Irish people .
    Dickie kept pulling at Eoin’s arm, wanting to get to the lake to see his ducks and swans. Eoin skipped to the end of the proclamation:
    We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God, Whose blessing we invoke upon our arms, and we pray that no one who serves that cause will dishonour it by cowardice, inhumanity, or rapine. In this supreme hour, the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline and by the readiness of its children to sacrifice themselves for the common good, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called .
    As both kids pulled at him from opposite sides, Eoin read the signatures:
    Signed on Behalf of the Provisional Government,
    THOMAS J. CLARKE,
SEAN MAC DIARMADA,
THOMAS MACDONAGH,
P.H. PEARSE,
EAMONN CEANNT,
EAMONN CEANNT,
JOSEPH PLUNKETT.
    By now, the crowd around the two proclamations was getting rowdy, some cheering and others cursing the insurgents. A man went up to a Volunteer and shouted in his face, “Ya Fenian gobshite!”
    The Volunteer pulled his rifle off his shoulder and clubbed the man with the butt end. “Any other words of wisdom for me, mister?” he demanded as the man scrunched on the ground, holding his head in case there were other blows coming, but there weren’t.
    “This is great,” said the young lad next to Eoin.
    “What’s happening?” asked Eoin.
    “Rebellion!” came the gleeful reply.
    Eoin smiled, intrigued by the boy’s enthusiasm. “I’m Eoin Kavanagh,” he said, putting out his hand.
    “Vinny Byrne,” came the quick, cheery reply, along with a strong handshake. “There will be a hooley in Dublin this week!”
    Vinny was diminutive, with reddish blond hair and a pink complexion. He was dressed in a Volunteer’s uniform, his only show of rank being his Pioneer’s pin, which was stuck above his left breast pocket.
    “I’m from South Anne’s Street,” Vinny said, pointing.
    “Golden Lane,” replied Eoin, “over by St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”
    “The Piles?” Eoin nodded. “God help ya,” replied Vinny, without malice. “I’ve got to get moving now,” said Vinny. “We’re going to take Jacob’s Factory for the Republic. Will you come with us?”
    Eoin was taken aback. “I can’t,” he stammered. “I have my brother and sister with me,” pointing at the children.
    “Fair enough,” said Vinny. “But the invite stands!”
    Eoin nodded and took the children away from the chaos and into the Green. “Swans!” Dickie tore his