Mayo history: ‘Big Matt’ Loughney was Killala Bay harbour pilot in 1798

By Tom Gillespie

IN the late 1700s, influenced by the works of Thomas Paine and the French Revolution, The Society of the United Irishmen was formed with the objectives of repealing the Irish Penal Laws - giving more rights to the native Irish and to Roman Catholics. By 1794, the United Irishmen were put under pressure, and many members fled to the continent and to France.

In France, Theobald Wolfe Tone and his brother Matthew Tone lobbied for French support for the United Irishmen. Finally, on July 19, 1798, the French Directory authorised the sending of three expeditions to Ireland and gave the command of the first expedition to General Humbert.

Author John Loughney, in a contribution to the Mayo Genealogy Group website, wrote:

On August 6, 1798, General Humbert’s Army of Ireland sailed from La Rochelle in three frigates, La Concorde, La Franchise, La Médée, carrying 1,025 French troops, three light field cannons, 3,000 muskets and 400 sabres.

Matthew Tone, Bartholomew Teeling and Father Henry O’Keon all travelled with General Humbert. Father O’Keon, a native of Rathreagh, Mayo, was appointed as the official translator.

General Humbert’s ‘Army of Ireland’ set sail from La Rochelle, destined for Killala, on August 6, 1798.

On the morning of August 22, 1798, Matthew Dominick Loughney (Maitiú Damhnaic O’Lachtna), or ‘Big Matt' as he was known, was fishing off the coast of north eastern Mayo.

Big Matt was from Beltra, in Lacken parish, and resided behind the residence of Fr. Hugh Conway, the local catholic parish priest. ‘Big Matt’ was the Killala Bay harbour pilot.

As he fished, he spied a frigate flying the Union Jack, which was not uncommon as British ships had landed at Kilcummin Harbour a few years earlier. When he was hailed and asked to climb on board, he noticed that not all was as it seemed to be.

When Matt came alongside the leading vessel, and before he encountered O’Keon, he was asked from the deck if he was a Catholic. Not perceiving anything remarkable or strange in the question, Matt answered ‘yes’.

He then enquired as to what cargo the ships were carrying and was told ‘frogs’, and it was only when he boarded that the irony of the answer fully dawned on him.

These were not English, but the French coming to help liberate Ireland, as long foretold by stories and songs.

This story was told to Castlebar native Stephen Dunford by a local historian, the late Jack Munnelly of Ross.

Another version of this tale appeared in an article titled ‘The French Invasion of ’98' in The Western People on Saturday, April 30, 1904.

Father Henry O’Keon recognised Matthew Loughney, as he knew all of the old fishermen in his youth. They discussed the landing and ‘Big Matt’ advised against landing in Killala but rather landing in Kilcummin so as to maintain an element of surprise.

The French headed to Kilcummin Harbour and started to unload their cargo. Fr. O’Keon helped raise men from the local villages. The band of French and Irish quickly captured Killala and Ballina. They continued to Castlebar, where they routed the English.

That battle was known as the 'Races of Castlebar' as the English fled in an uncontrolled retreat.

General Humbert headed east, towards Dublin. Eventually, Humbert decided to engage the English at Ballinamuck. Humbert faced overwhelming numbers - General Lake was close with 14,000 men and Lord Cornwallis was on his right with 15,000.

The French surrendered and were taken prisoners. The 1,000 or so Irish fighters attempted surrender, but were shown no mercy. Approximately 500 Irish were slain on the battlefield, and a further 200 were capture and eventually all were hung for treason.

Big Matthew Dominick Loughney survived the rebellion, and his sons, grandsons and great-grandsons continued to pilot Kilcummin Bay.

Seven generations of Loughney pilots are buried in Kilcummin Graveyard.

On April 25, 1891, Charles Stewart Parnell, leader of the Irish Parliamentary party from 1875 until his death in 1891, met with Matthew’s grandsons and great-grandsons in Killala, in honour of those that died in the failed uprising.

An account of the French landing contained in the adventures of Maurice Tiernay was first published as a serial in ‘The Dublin University Magazine,’ starting in April 1850. This was later collected in to a novel, ‘Maurice Tiernay - The Soldier of Fortune’ by Charles Lever, in 1861, in which he wrote:

The morning of the 22nd broke splendidly - a gentle breeze from the south-west slightly curled the blue waves, and filled the canvas of the three frigates, as in close order they sailed along under the tall cliffs of Ireland. We were about three miles from the shore, on which now every telescope and glass was eagerly directed.

As the light and fleeting clouds of early morning passed away we could descry the outlines of the bold coast, indented with many a bay and creek, while rocky promontories and grassy slopes succeeded each other in endless variety of contrast.

Towns, or even villages, we could see none - a few small wretched-looking hovels were dotted over the hills, and here and there a thin wreath of blue smoke bespoke habitation, but, save these signs, there was an air of loneliness and solitude which increased the solemn feelings of the scene.

All these objects of interest, however, soon gave way before another to the contemplation of which every eye was turned. This was a small fishing-boat, which, with a low mast and ragged piece of canvas, was seen standing boldly out for us: a red handkerchief was fastened to a stick in the stern, as if for a signal, and on our shortening sail, to admit of her overtaking us, the ensign was lowered as though in acknowledgment of our meaning.

The boat was soon alongside, and we now perceived that her crew consisted of a man and a boy, the former of whom, a powerfully built, loose fellow, of about five-and-forty, dressed in a light-blue frieze jacket and trousers, adroitly caught at the cast of rope thrown out to him, and having made fast his skiff, clambered up the ship’s side at once, gaily, as though he were an old friend coming to welcome us.

“Is he a pilot?” asked the officer of the watch, addressing one of the Irish officers.

“No; he’s only a fisherman, but he knows the coast perfectly, and says there is deep water within 20 fathoms of the shore.’

An animated conversation in Irish now ensued between the peasant and Captain Madgett, during which a wondering and somewhat impatient group stood around, speedily increased by the presence of General Humbert himself and his staff.

“He tells me, general,” said Madgett, “that we are in the Bay of Killala, a good and safe anchorage, and, during the southerly winds, the best on all the coast.”

“What news has he from the shore?” asked Humbert sharply, as if the care of the ship was a very secondary consideration.

“They have been expecting us with the greatest impatience, general; he says the most intense anxiety for our coming is abroad.”