ORANGE AND GREEN:

A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick

by

G. A. Henty. 

Contents

 Preface. Chapter 1: A Shipwreck. Chapter 2: For James Or William. Chapter 3: The King In Ireland. Chapter 4: The Siege Of Derry. Chapter 5: The Relief Of Derry. Chapter 6: Dundalk. Chapter 7: The Coming Battle. Chapter 8: Boyne Water. Chapter 9: Pleasant Quarters. Chapter 10: A Cavalry Raid. Chapter 11: The First Siege Of Limerick. Chapter 12: Winter Quarters. Chapter 13: A Dangerous Mission. Chapter 14: Athlone. Chapter 15: A Fortunate Recognition. Chapter 16: Peace. 

Preface. 

The subject of Ireland is one which has, for some years, been a veryprominent one, and is likely, I fear, for some time yet to occupy a largeshare of public attention. The discontent, manifested in the troubles ofrecent years, has had its root in an old sense of grievance, for whichthere was, unhappily, only too abundant reason. The great proportion ofthe soil of Ireland was taken from the original owners, and handed overto Cromwell's followers, and for years the land that still remained inthe hands of Irishmen was subject to the covetousness of a party ofgreedy intriguers, who had sufficient influence to sway the proceedingsof government. The result was the rising of Ireland, nominally in defenceof the rights of King James, but really as an effort of despair on thepart of those who deemed their religion, their property, and even theirlives threatened, by the absolute ascendency of the Protestant party inthe government of the country. I have taken my information from a varietyof sources; but, as I wished you to see the matter from the Irish pointof view, I have drawn most largely from the history of those events byMr. O'Driscol, published sixty years ago. There is, however, but littledifference of opinion between Irish and English authors, as to thegeneral course of the war, or as to the atrocious conduct of William'sarmy of foreign mercenaries towards the people of Ireland. 

G. A. Henty. 

Chapter 1: A Shipwreck. 

A few miles to the south of Bray Head, on the crest of a hill fallingsharply down to the sea, stood Castle Davenant, a conspicuous landmark tomariners skirting the coast on their way from Cork or Waterford to DublinBay. Castle Davenant it was called, although it had long since ceased tobe defensible; but when it was built by Sir Godfrey Davenant, who cameover with Strongbow, it was a place of strength. Strongbow's followersdid well for themselves. They had reckoned on hard fighting, but theIrish were too much divided among themselves to oppose any seriousresistance to the invaders. Strongbow had married the daughter of Dermid, Prince of Leinster, and at the death of that prince succeeded him, andthe greater portion of Leinster was soon divided among the knights andmen-at-arms who had followed his standard. Godfrey Davenant, who was afavourite of the earl, had no reason to be dissatisfied with his share, which consisted of a domain including many square miles of fertile land, stretching back from the seacoast. 

Here for many generations his descendants lived, for the most part takingan active share in the wars and disturbances which, with scarcely aninterval of rest, agitated the country. 

The castle had continued to deserve its name until forty years before thetime this story commences, when Cromwell's gunners had battered a breachin it, and left it a heap of smoking ruins. Walter Davenant had died, fighting to the last, in his own hall. At that time, the greater part ofhis estate was bestowed upon officers and soldiers in Cromwell's army, among whom no less than four million acres of Irish land were divided. 

Had it not been that Walter Davenant's widow was an Englishwoman, and arelation of General Ireton, the whole of the estate would have gone; buthis influence was sufficient to secure for her the possession of theruins of her home, and a few hundred acres surrounding it. Fortunately, the dowry which Mrs. Davenant had brought her husband was untouched, anda new house was reared within the ruins of the castle, the new work beingdovetailed with the old. 

The family now consisted of Mrs. Davenant, a lady sixty-eight years old;her son Fergus, who was, when Cromwell devastated the land, a child offive years; his wife Katherine, daughter of Lawrence McCarthy, a largelandowner near Cork; and their two sons, Walter, a lad of sixteen, andGodfrey, twelve years old. 

Two miles west of the castle stood a square-built stone house, surroundedby solidly-constructed barns and outbuildings. This was the abode of oldZephaniah Whitefoot, the man upon whom had been bestowed the broad landsof Walter Davenant. Zephaniah had fought stoutly, as lieutenant in one ofCromwell's regiments of horse, and had always considered himself anill-treated man, because, although he had obtained all the most fertileportion of the Davenant estate, the old family were permitted to retainthe castle, and a few hundred acres by the sea. 

He was one of those who contended that the Amalekites should be utterlydestroyed by the sword, and he considered that the retention of thecorner of their domains, by the Davenants, was a direct flying in theface of the providence who had given them into the hands of the faithful. Not that, had he obtained possession of the ruined castle, ZephaniahWhitefoot would have repaired it or set up his abode there. The followersof Cromwell had no eyes for the beautiful. They were too much in earnestto care aught for the amenities of life, and despised, as almost sinful, anything approximating to beauty, either in dress, person, orsurroundings. The houses that they reared, in this land of which they hadtaken possession, were bare to the point of ugliness, and their interiorwas as cold and hard as was the exterior. Everything was for use, nothingfor ornament. Scarce a flower was to be seen in their gardens, andlaughter was a sign of levity, to be sternly repressed. 

Their isolation, in the midst of a hostile population, caused them noconcern whatever. They cared for no society or companionship, save thatof their own households, which they ruled with a rod of iron; and anoccasional gathering, for religious purposes, with the other settlers oftheir own faith. They regarded the Irish as Papists, doomed toeverlasting perdition, and indeed consigned to that fate all outsidetheir own narrow sect. Such a people could no more mix with thesurrounding population than oil with water. As a rule, they tilled asmuch ground in the immediate vicinity of their houses as they and theirfamilies could manage, and the rest of the land which had fallen intotheir possession they let, either for a money payment, or, more often, for a portion of the crops raised upon it, to such natives as werewilling to hold it on these terms. 

The next generation had fallen away somewhat from their fathers'standards. It is not in human nature to stand such a strain as theirfamilies had been subjected to. There is an innate yearning for joy andhappiness, and even the sternest discipline cannot keep man forever inthe gloomy bonds of fanaticism. In most cases, the immediate descendantsof Cromwell's soldiers would gladly have made some sort of compromise, would have surrendered much of their outlying land to obtain secure andpeaceful possession of the rest, and would have emerged from the life ofgloomy seclusion, in which they found themselves; but no whisper of anysuch feeling as this would be heard in the household of ZephaniahWhitefoot, so long as he lived. 

He was an old man now, but as hard, as gloomy, and as unlovable as he hadbeen when in his prime. His wife had died very many years before, of nodisease that Zephaniah or the doctor he called in could discover, but, infact, of utter weariness at the dull life of repression and gloom whichcrushed her down. Of a naturally meek and docile disposition, she hadsubmitted without murmuring to her husband's commands, and had, duringher whole married life, never shocked him so much as she did the daybefore her death, when, for the first time, she exhibited the possessionof an opinion of her own, by saying earnestly:

"You may say what you like, Zephaniah, but I do think we were meant tohave some happiness and pleasure on earth. If we were intended to gothrough life without laughing, why should we be able to laugh? Oh, how Ishould like to hear one hearty, natural laugh again before I die, such asI used to hear when I was a girl!"

Jabez Whitefoot inherited his mother's docility of disposition, and, evenwhen he grew to middle age, never dreamt of disputing his father'sabsolute rule, and remained strictly neutral when his wife, the daughterof an old comrade of his father, settled a few miles away, fought stoutlyat times against his tyranny. 

"You are less than a man, Jabez, " she would say to him, indignantly, "toput up, at your age, with being lectured as if you were a child. Parentalobedience is all very well, and I hope I was always obedient to myfather; but when it comes to a body not being permitted to have a soul ofhis own, it is going too far. If you had told me that, when I became yourwife, I was to become the inmate of a dungeon for the rest of myexistence, I wouldn't have had you, not if you had been master of all thebroad lands of Leinster. "

But, though unable to rouse her husband into making an effort for somesort of freedom, Hannah Whitefoot had battled more successfully in behalfof her son, John. 

"You have had the management of your son, sir, and I will manage mine, "she said. "I will see that he does not grow up a reprobate or a Papist, but at least he shall grow up a man, and his life shall not be as hatefulas mine is, if I can help it. "

Many battles had already been fought on this point, but in the end HannahWhitefoot triumphed. Although her husband never, himself, opposed hisfather's authority, he refused absolutely to use his own to compel hiswife to submission. 

"You know, sir, " he said, "you had your own way with my mother and me, and I say nothing for or against it. Hannah has other ideas. No one cansay that she is not a good woman, or that she fails in her duty to me. All people do not see life from the same point of view. She is just asconscientious, in her way, as you are in yours. She reads her Bible anddraws her own conclusions from it, just as you do; and as she is themother of the child, and as I know she will do her best for it, I shallnot interfere with her way of doing it. "

And so Hannah won at last, and although, according to modern ideas, theboy's training would have been considered strict in the extreme, itdiffered very widely from that which his father had had before him. Sounds of laughter, such as never had been heard within the walls of thehouse, since Zephaniah laid stone upon stone, sometimes issued from theroom where Hannah and the child were together alone, and Zephaniah wasout with Jabez about the farm; and Hannah herself benefited, as much asdid the child, by her rebellion against the authorities. Jabez, too, wasconscious that home was brighter and pleasanter than it had been, andwhen Zephaniah burst into a torrent of indignation, when he discoveredthat the child had absolutely heard some fairy stories from its mother, Jabez said quietly:

"Father, I wish no dispute. I have been an obedient son to you, and willcontinue so to my life's end; but if you are not satisfied with thedoings of my wife, I will depart with her. There are plenty who will beglad to let me a piece of land; and if I only work there as hard as Iwork here, I shall assuredly be able to support her and my boy. So letthis be the last word between us. "

This threat put an end to the struggle. Zephaniah had, like most of hisclass, a keen eye to the main chance, and could ill spare the services ofJabez and his thrifty and hard-working wife; and henceforth, except bypointed references, in the lengthy morning and evening prayers, to thebacksliding in his household, he held his peace. 

Between the Castle and Zephaniah Whitefoot there had never been anyintercourse. The dowager Mrs. Davenant hated the Cromwellite occupier ofher estate, not only as a usurper, but as the representative of the manwho had slain her husband. She never alluded to his existence, and hadalways contrived, in her rides and walks, to avoid any point from whichshe could obtain so much as a distant view of the square, ugly housewhich formed a blot on the fair landscape. She still spoke of the estateas if it extended to its original boundaries, and ignored absolutely thevery existence of Zephaniah Whitefoot, and all that belonged to him. Butwhen her son and Jabez grew to man's estate, at about the same period, they necessarily at times crossed each other's paths; and as in them theprejudices and enmities of their elders were somewhat softened, theywould, when they met on the road, exchange a passing nod or a brief "Goodmorning. "

Another generation still, and the boys of the two houses met as friends. Thanks to his mother's successful rebellion, John Whitefoot grew up ahearty, healthy boy, with a bright eye, a merry laugh, and a frank, openbearing. 

"One would think, " his grandfather remarked angrily one day, as the boywent out, whistling gaily, to fetch in a young colt Jabez was about tobreak, "that John was the son of a malignant, or one of the men ofCharles Stuart, rather than of a God-fearing tiller of the soil. "

"So long as he fears God, and walks in the right way, he is none theworse for that, father, " Jabez said stoutly; "and even you would hardlysay that his mother has failed in her teachings in that respect. I do notknow that, so long as one has the words of Scripture in his heart, he isany the better for having them always on his lips; in other respects, Iregret not that the boy should have a spirit and a fire which I know Ilack myself. Who can say what may yet take place here! The Stuarts areagain upon the throne, and, with James's leaning towards Papacy, there isno saying whether, some day, all the lands which Cromwell divided amonghis soldiers may not be restored to their original possessors, and inthat case our sons may have to make their way in other paths of life thanours; and, if it be so, John will assuredly be more likely to make hisway than I should have done. "

"We would never surrender, save with our lives, what our swords have won. We will hold the inheritance which the Lord has given us, " the old mansaid fiercely. 

"Yes, father; and so said those whose lands we have inherited. So saidWalter Davenant, of whose lands we are possessed. It will be as God willsit. He has given to us the lands of others, and it may be that he willtake them away again. The times have changed, father, and the manners;and I am well pleased to see that John, while I am sure he is as true tothe faith as I am myself, will take broader and, perhaps, happier viewsof life than I have done. "

Zephaniah gave a snort of displeasure. He grieved continually at theinfluence which his daughter-in-law exercised over her son, and which nowextended clearly to her husband; but Jabez was now a man offive-and-forty, and had lately shown that, in some respects at least, heintended to have his way, while Zephaniah himself, though still erect andstrong, was well-nigh eighty. 

"Remember, Jabez, " he said, "that it goes hard with those who, having settheir hands to the plough, turn aside. "

"I shall not turn aside, father, " Jabez said quietly. "I have gone toolong along a straight furrow to change now; but I am not ill pleased thatmy son should have a wider scope. I trust and believe that he will drivehis furrow as straight as we have done, although it may not be exactly inthe same line. "

But neither Zephaniah nor old Mrs. Davenant knew that their respectivegrandsons had made friends, although both the boys' fathers knew, andapproved of it, although for somewhat different reasons. 

"The Whitefoot boy, " Mr. Davenant had said to his wife, "is, I fancy fromwhat I have seen of him, of a different type to his father andgrandfather. I met him the other day when I was out, and he spoke asnaturally and outspokenly as Walter himself. He seems to have got rid ofthe Puritanical twang altogether. At any rate, he will do Walter no harm;and, indeed, I should say that there was a solid good sense about him, which will do Master Walter, who is somewhat disposed to be a madcap, much good. Anyhow, he is a better companion for the boy than the ladsdown in the village; and there is no saying, wife, how matters may go inthis unhappy country. It may be that we may come to our own again. It maybe that we may lose what is left to us. Anyhow, it can do no harm toWalter that he should have, as a friend, one in the opposite camp. "

Somewhat similar was the talk between Hannah and Jabez, although, intheir case, the wife was the speaker. 

"John has told me, Jabez, that he has several times met young Davenant, and that the boy is disposed to be friendly with him; and he has asked meto speak with you, to know whether you have any objection to his making afriend of him. "

"What do you say, Hannah?" Jabez asked cautiously. "My father, I fear, would not approve of it. "

"Your father need know nothing about it, Jabez. He is an old man and agood man, but he clings to the ways of his youth, and deems that thingsare still as they were when he rode behind Cromwell. I would not deceivehim did he ask; but I do not see that the matter need be mentioned in hispresence. It seems to me that it will be good for John to be friends withthis boy. He is almost without companionship. We have acquaintance, it istrue, among the other settlers of our faith, but such companionship as hehas there will not open his mind or broaden his views. We are dull peoplehere for a lad. Had we had other children it might have been different. 

"I have heard my mother speak of her life as a girl, in England, andassuredly it was brighter and more varied than ours; and it seems not tome that the pleasures which they had were sinful, although I have beentaught otherwise; but, as I read my Bible, I cannot see that innocentpleasures are in any way denied to the Lord's people; and such pleasureas the companionship of the young Davenant can give John will, I think, be altogether for his good. "

"But the lad is a Papist, Hannah. "

"He is, Jabez; but boys, methinks, do not argue among themselves uponpoints of doctrine; and I have no fear that John will ever be led fromthe right path, nor indeed, though it is presumption for a woman to sayso, do I feel so sure as our ministers that ours is the only path toheaven. We believe firmly that it is the best path, but others believe asfirmly in their paths; and I cannot think, Jabez, that all mankind, savethose who are within the fold of our church, can be condemned by the goodLord to perdition. "

"Your words are bold, Hannah, and I know not what my father and theelders of the church would say, were they to hear them. As to that I willnot argue, but methinks that you are right in saying that thecompanionship of the young Davenant will do our boy no harm. 

"But the lad must have his father's consent. Though I reckon that wecould count pounds where they could count shillings, yet, in the opinionof the world, they assuredly stand above us. Moreover, as it is only inhuman nature that they should regard us as those who have despoiled them, John must have no dealings with their son without their consent. If thatbe given, I have nought to say against it. "

And so John told Walter, next time they met, and learned in reply thatWalter had already obtained his father's consent to going out rambleswith him; so the boys became companions and friends, and each benefitedby it. To John, the bright, careless ease and gaiety of Walter's talk andmanner were, at first, strange indeed, after the restraint and gloom ofhis home; but in time he caught something of his companion's tone, until, as has been said, his altered manner and bearing struck and annoyed hisgrandfather. 

On the other hand, the earnestness and solidity of John's character was ofbenefit to Walter; and his simple truthfulness, the straightforwardness ofhis principles, and his blunt frankness in saying exactly what he thought, influenced Walter to quite as large an extent as he had influenced John. 

So the companionship between the lads had gone on for two years. In fineweather they had met once or twice a week, and had taken long ramblestogether, or, throwing themselves down on the slopes facing the sea, hadtalked over subjects of mutual interest. Walter's education was far inadvance of that of his companion, whose reading, indeed, had beenconfined to the Scriptures, and the works of divines andcontroversialists of his own church, and whose acquirements did notextend beyond the most elementary subjects. 

To him, everything that Walter knew was novel and strange; and he eagerlydevoured, after receiving permission from his mother, the books whichWalter lent him, principally histories, travels, and the works of Miltonand Shakespeare. As to the latter, Hannah had at first some scruples; andit was only after setting herself, with great misgivings as to thelawfulness of the act, to peruse the book, that she suffered her son toread it. The volume only contained some ten of Shakespeare's plays; andHannah, on handing the book to her son, said:

"I do not pretend, John, to understand all that is written there, but Icannot see that there is evil in it. There are assuredly many noblethoughts, and much worldly wisdom. Did I think that your life would bepassed here, I should say that it were better for you not to read a bookwhich gives a picture of a life so different from what yours would be;but none can say what your lot may be. And, although I have heard muchabout the wickedness of the stage, I can see no line in this book whichcould do harm to you. I do not see it can do you much good, John, butneither do I see that it can do you any harm; therefore, if you have setyour mind on it, read it, my boy. "

It was a stormy evening in the first week of November, 1688. The wind wasblowing in fierce gusts, making every door and casement quiver inDavenant Castle, while, between the gusts, the sound of the deep roar ofthe sea on the rocks far below could be plainly heard. Mrs. Davenant wassitting in a high-backed chair, on one side of the great fireplace, inwhich a pile of logs was blazing. Her son had just laid down a book, which he could no longer see to read, while her daughter-in-law wasindustriously knitting. Walter was wandering restlessly between the fireand the window, looking out at the flying clouds, through which the moonoccasionally struggled. 

"Do sit down, Walter, " his mother said at last. "You certainly are themost restless creature I ever saw. "

"Not always, mother; but I cannot help wondering about that ship we sawdown the coast, making for the bay. She was about ten miles out, andseemed to be keeping her course when I saw her last, half an hour ago;but I can see, by the clouds, that the wind has drawn round more to thenorth, and I doubt much whether she will be able to gain the bay. "

"In that case, Walter, " his father said, "if her captain knows hisbusiness, he will wear round and run down for Waterford. 

"I agree with you, " he continued, after walking to the window andwatching the clouds, "that a vessel coming from the south will hardlyweather Bray Head, with this wind. "

He had scarcely spoken when the door opened, and one of the servantsentered. 

"Your honour, a boy has just come up from the village. He says that JohnConsidine sent him to tell you that a large ship is driving in to shore, and that he thinks she will strike not far from the village. "

"Why, on earth, " Mr. Davenant exclaimed, "doesn't he tack and stand outto sea!"

"The boy says her foremast is gone, and they have lost all management ofher. "

"In that case, God help them! There is little chance for them on thisrocky coast. However, I will go down at once, and see if anything can bedone. 

"Katherine, do you see that there are plenty of hot blankets ready, incase any of the poor fellows are washed ashore. I shall, of course, sendthem up here. 

"I suppose, Walter, you will come down with me. "

But Walter had already disappeared, having slipped off as soon as he hadheard the message. 

"Don't let that boy get into mischief, Fergus, " old Mrs. Davenant said. 

"I am afraid, mother, he is beyond me, " her son said, with a smile. "NoDavenant yet could ever keep out of mischief, and Walter is no exception. However, fortunately for us, we generally get out of scrapes as easily aswe get into them. "

"Not always, Fergus, " she said, shaking her head. 

"No, not always, mother; but exceptions, you know, prove the rule. "

"Well, Godfrey, do you want to go?" he asked the younger boy, who hadrisen from the table, and was looking eagerly at him. "Of course you do;but, mind, you must keep close to me. 

"Ah, Father John!" he broke off, as an ecclesiastic, muffled up to thethroat in wrappings, entered the room. "Are you going down, too?"

"Assuredly I am, Fergus. You don't think a trifle of wind would keep mefrom doing my duty?"

In another two minutes, the two men and Godfrey sallied out. Theystaggered as the wind struck them, and Godfrey clung to his father's arm. Not a word was spoken as they made their way down the steep descent tothe village, which consisted of about a dozen fishermen's huts. Indeed, speaking would have been useless, for no word would have been heard abovethe howling of the storm. 

The vessel was visible to them, as they made their way down the hill. Shewas a complete wreck. The light of the moon was sufficient for them tosee that she had, as the boy said, lost her foremast. Her sails were inribbons, and she was labouring heavily in the sea, each wave that struckher breaking over her bows and sweeping along her deck. There was no hopefor her. She could neither tack nor wear, and no anchor would hold for amoment on that rocky bottom, in such a sea. 

On reaching the village, they joined a group of fishermen who werestanding under the shelter of the end of a cottage. 

"Can nothing be done, Considine?" Mr. Davenant shouted, in the ear of oneof the fishermen. 

"Not a thing, yer honour. She has just let drop one of her anchors. "

"But they could not hope it would hold there, " Mr. Davenant said. 

"Not they, your honour, onless they were mad. They hoped it would houltso as to bring her head round; but the cable went, as soon as the straincame. I saw her head go sharp up to the wind, and then fall off again;not that it would have made much difference in the end, though it wouldhave given them half an hour longer of life. "

"Could we get a boat off with a line, if she strikes?"

"Look at the sea, yer honour. Mr. Walter has been asking us; but there'sno boat could get through that surf, not if all Ireland dipinded on it. "

"Where is Walter?"

"Sure and I can't tell ye, yer honour. He was here a few minutes since;but what's come of him is more nor I can tell ye. "

"He went off with Larry Doolan, " a boy, who was standing next to thefisherman, shouted. 

"Then, as sure as fate, they are up to some mischief, " Mr. Davenant said. "Walter is bad enough by himself, but with Larry to help him, it wouldtake a regiment to look after them. "

"They can't be in much mischief tonight, yer honour, " the fisherman said. 

"Look, sir, she's coming in fast. She draws a power of water, and shewill strike in a minute or two. "

"She seems crowded with men. Can nothing be done to help them?" thepriest asked. 

"Nothing, your reverence. Praying for them is the only thing that canhelp the poor sowls now. "

"You are sure it's not possible to launch a boat, Considine?"

"Look for yourself, yer honour. There's not a boat on the coast thatcould get through them breakers. "

"There she goes. "

Even above the noise of the storm, a loud cry was heard, and the crash ofbreaking timber as, with the shock, the main and mizzen masts, weakenedby the loss of the foremast, went over the sides. The next great wavedrove the vessel forward two or three fathoms. 

"That's her last move, " Considine said. "The rocks will be through herbottom, now. "

"They are off, " a boy shouted, running up. 

"Who are off?" Considine asked. 

"The young squire and Larry Doolan. "

"Off where?" Mr. Davenant exclaimed. 

"Off in the curragh, yer honour. Me and Tim Connolly helped them carry itround the Nose, and they launched her there. There they are. Sure you cansee them for yourself. "

The party rushed out from the shelter, and there, a quarter of a milealong on the right, a small boat was seen, making its way over the waves. 

"Be jabers, yer honour, and they have done it, " the boatmen said, as Mr. Davenant gave a cry of alarm. 

"I didn't think of the curragh, and if I had, she could not have beenlaunched here. Mr. Walter has hit on the only place where there was achance. Under the shelter of the Nose it might be done, but nowhereelse. "

The Nose was a formidable reef of rocks, running off from a point andtrending to the south. Many a ship had gone ashore on its jagged edge, but, with the wind from the northeast, it formed somewhat of a shelter, and it was under its lee that Walter and Larry had launched the curragh. 

The curragh is still found on the Irish coast. It is a boat whosegreatest width is at the stern, so much so that it looks like a boat cutin two. The floor is almost flat, and rises so much to the bow that threeor four feet are entirely out of water. They are roughly built, and by nomeans fast, but they are wonderfully good sea boats, for their size, andcan live in seas which would swamp a boat of ordinary build. 

Walter had, with the assistance of Larry Doolan, built this boat forgoing out fishing. It was extremely light, being a mere framework coveredwith tarred canvas. As soon as Walter had reached the village, and foundthat the fishermen considered that no boat could possibly be put out, hehad found and held a consultation with Larry. 

"Do you think the curragh could go out, Larry?"

"Not she, yer honour. She would just be broke up like an eggshell withthem breakers. "

"But she might float, if we got beyond them, Larry. "

"She might that, " Larry agreed, "seeing how light she is. "

"Well, will you go with me, Larry?"

"Sure and I would go anywhere with yer honour, but she could never getout. "

"I am thinking, Larry, that if we carry her along beyond the Nose, wemight find it calmer there. "

"Well, we might, " Larry agreed. "At any rate, we can try. "

So, calling together two or three other boys, they had lifted the lightboat and carried it with its oars along the shore, until they got beyondthe Nose; but even here, it was a formidable business to launch her, for, although the rocks broke the full force of the seas, throwing the sprayhundreds of feet up in the air, the waves poured through the intervals, and dashed over the lower rocks in such masses that formidable wavesrolled in to the shore. 

After much consultation, the boys agreed that their best plan was toscramble out on the rocks as far as possible, so as to launch the boatbeyond the break of the surf. 

It was a hazardous enterprise, and the whole party were, several times, nearly washed into the water as they struggled out. At last, they reacheda spot beyond which they could go no farther, as a deep passage was herebroken in the rock. But they were now beyond the line of breakers. 

After several vain efforts to launch the boat, in each of which shenarrowly escaped destruction, they agreed that the only plan was, after awave passed, to drop her on to a flat rock, which then showed above thewater, and to jump into her. 

The two boys on shore were to hold the head rope, to prevent her beingdashed towards the land by the next wave, while Larry worked with theoars to get her away from the ridge. The moment the wave had passed underthem, the head rope was to be thrown off. 

This plan was carried out. The two boys had but just time to jump intothe boat and get out their oars, when the next wave lifted the boat highon its crest. The lads holding the rope were nearly torn from the rock, but they held on till the strain ceased, then they threw in the rope, andWalter and Larry bent to their oars. 

"Row easy, Larry, " Walter said, as the next wave passed under them, "andput her head to each wave. "

Terrible as was the sea, the curragh floated buoyantly over it, thoughseveral times, as she rose to the steep waves, Walter thought that shewould be thrown right over. The worst part of their task was over, whenthey got beyond the end of the Nose, for up to that point they wereforced to row across the course of the waves, and continually to turn theboat, to face the great masses of water which ran between the rocks. Butonce beyond the end of the reef they turned her head north, and rowedstraight towards the ship. 

"She has struck, Master Walter, " Larry said, glancing over his shoulder, "and her masts are gone. "

"Lay out, then, Larry, there's no time to lose. "

But, in spite of their efforts, the boat moved but slowly through thewater, for the wind caught her high bow with such force that, at times, it needed all their strength and skill to keep her head straight. At lastthey were close to the ship, which already showed signs of breaking up. They ranged up alongside of it. 

"Fasten a line to a keg and throw it in, " Walter shouted. 

In a minute, a keg was thrown overboard with a line attached. As soon asit drifted a little way from the vessel's side, they hauled it into theboat. 

"Now, back, Larry; these waves would sink us in a moment, if we turn ourstern to them. "

The wreck lay within a hundred yards of the shore, and the boat backeduntil close to the line where the waves toppled over in a torrent offoam. 

"Now, Larry, keep her steady. We are as near as we dare go. "

Then Walter stood up in the boat, took the keg and a foot or two of linein his hand, and waited till the next wave passed under the boat. Heswung the keg round his head, and hurled it towards the shore. Then hedropped into his seat, and gave two or three vigorous strokes, and, whensafely beyond the line of breakers, sat quiet and watched the result. 

"They have missed it the first time, " he said. "Look! They are going torun into the surf for it. "

The group on the shore joined hands, and the next time the keg was borneforward, in the tumble of foam, Considine ran forward and seized it. Theback rush took him from his feet, but the others held on, and before thenext wave came, the line was safely on the beach. A strong cable was soonpulled ashore and firmly fixed. A light line was attached to it, and thesailors at once began to pass along. 

"Shall we turn back now, Master Walter?"

"We will keep near the wreck for a few minutes longer, Larry. She can'thold together long, and maybe we can pick somebody up. "

The vessel was indeed breaking up fast. Her stern was burst in, and thewaves, as they poured in at the opening, smashed up the deck. Many of thecrew had been washed overboard, and had instantly disappeared. 

As the boat approached the wreck, an officer, who had climbed theshrouds, shouted out:

"Will your boat hold another?"

"Yes, " Walter shouted back. "She will hold two more. "

"I will try and swim to you, " the officer said. 

He threw off the long cloak, in which he was wrapped, and unbuckled hissword and let it drop, unbuttoned and took off his military coat, and, with some difficulty, got rid of his high boots. 

"Can you come a bit nearer?" he shouted. 

"We daren't, " Walter said. "A touch from one of those floating timberswould send us to the bottom. "

The officer waved his hand, and then sprang head foremost into the sea. So long was he in the water, that Walter began to think he must havestruck against something, and was not coming up again; when suddenly heappeared, within twenty yards of the boat. They rowed towards him, instantly. 

"You must get in over the stern, " Walter said. 

The officer was perfectly cool, and, placing his hands on the stern, drewhimself partly over it, and Walter, grasping his hand, dragged him in. Nosooner was he in, than Walter again hailed the wreck. 

"We can carry one more. "

But those who were still on board were huddled up in the bow, waitingtheir turn for the rope. 

"There is a big un coming now, " Larry exclaimed. "That will finish her. "

A wave, towering far above its fellows, was indeed approaching. Higherand higher it rose. There was a wild cry from the wreck as it surged overit. When it had passed, the sea was covered with floating timbers, butthe vessel was gone. 

"We can do nothing now, " Walter said. "We daren't go in among thatwreckage, and any who get hold of floating planks will drift ashore. 

"Now, Larry, back quietly, and let her drift down round the Nose. We mustkeep her head to the waves. "

Ten minutes, and they were abreast of the reef. As soon as they were pastit, Walter gave the word, and they rowed along, under its shelter, to thepoint where they had embarked. 

"Now, sir, " Walter said, "we will back her up to that rock. When we areclose enough, you must jump. "

This was safely accomplished. 

"Now, Larry, row alongside when the next wave comes. We must bothscramble out as well as we can. "

But by this time help was at hand. The boat had been anxiously watchedfrom the shore, and when, on the disappearance of the wreck, she was seento be making her way back to the Nose, Mr. Davenant, with Considine andthe priest, and the boys who had assisted in getting her afloat, hurriedalong the shore to meet her, the rest of the fishermen remaining behind, to aid any who might be washed up from the wreck. 

As soon as it was seen that they intended to land at the spot where theyhad started, Considine and Mr. Davenant made their way along the rock, and joined the officer just as he leapt ashore. The boat came alongsideon the top of the wave, and as this sank it grazed the rock and capsized, but Walter and Larry grasped the hands stretched out to them, and werehauled on to the rock, while the next wave dashed the curragh infragments on the beach. 

Chapter 2: For James Or William. 

"My dear Walter, " his father exclaimed as he embraced his son, as hescrambled on shore, "you have behaved like a hero, indeed, but yououghtn't to have done it. 

"And you too, Larry. You both deserve a sound thrashing for the frightyou have given us. "

"They may have frightened you, sir, " the officer said; "but assuredly, Iowe my life to these brave lads. I have scarcely thanked them yet, forindeed, until I felt my foot on the rock, I had but small hopes ofreaching shore safely in that cock boat of theirs. After feeling thatgreat ship so helpless against the waves, it seemed impossible that amere eggshell could float over them. 

"My name, sir, is Colonel L'Estrange, at your service. "

"My name is Davenant, colonel, and I am truly glad that my son hasrescued you; but the sooner you are up at my place, the better, sir. Thisis no weather for standing talking in shirtsleeves. "

They now made their way along the rock back to the shore, and thenhurried to the village. There they learned that six men had succeeded ingetting to shore along the rope, before the vessel broke up. 

Telling Larry he had best have a glass of hot spirits, and then turn intobed at once, and that he was to come up to the house the first thing inthe morning, Mr. Davenant, with the priest, Colonel L'Estrange, andWalter made his way up to the house, to which the men who had reached theshore had been already taken. 

The party were met at the door by Mrs. Davenant, who had been extremelyanxious, for Godfrey had been sent home by his father as soon as thewreck went to pieces, and had brought the news of Walter's doings, up tothat time. 

"He is quite safe, Katherine, " Mr. Davenant said, "but you mustn't stop, either to scold him or praise him, at present. 

"Hurry off, Walter, and get between the blankets. I will bring you upsome hot spiced wine directly. 

"Katherine, this is Colonel L'Estrange, whom Walter has brought ashore inhis boat. You will excuse him, at present, for he has been for hoursexposed to the storm, and must be half frozen as well as half drowned. 

"Now, colonel, if you will come along with me, you will find a bed withhot blankets ready, and, I doubt not, a blazing fire. 

"Ah, here is the spiced wine. Take a draught of that before you goupstairs. You can have another, after you are in bed. "

Three more survivors from the wreck were presently brought up. They hadbeen washed ashore on planks, as indeed had many others, but the rest hadall been beaten to death against the rocks by the breakers. 

Walter slept late the next morning, and, when he came downstairs, foundthat the others had already finished breakfast. When he had eaten hismeal, and listened to the gentle scolding which his mother gave him forrisking his life, he joined his father, who was, with Colonel L'Estrange, pacing backwards and forwards on the terrace in front of the house. Thefirst fury of the storm was over, but it still blew strongly, and a veryheavy sea was running. 

"Ah, my young friend, " Colonel L'Estrange said, advancing, "I am glad tosee you, and to be able to thank you more warmly than I was able to dolast night, when the very words seemed frozen on my lips, for havingsaved my life. It was a gallant deed, and one which your father may wellbe proud of. It showed not only bravery of the highest kind, but coolnessand judgment, which are virtues even more rare. I predict a brilliantfuture for you, and if, in any way, my aid may be of use to you, believeme, it will be at your service. "

"It was well you were a good swimmer, sir, " Walter said, "for we couldnot have helped you, if you had not been able to help yourself, for thesea was covered with pieces of wreck, and as the boat was only coveredwith canvas, the slightest touch from one of the jagged ends would havemade a hole in it. I am very much obliged to you for your kind offer ofassistance; but, at present, we have not made up our minds what I am tobe. 

"Have we, father?"

"No, indeed, Walter. You have told me that you would like, at any ratefor a time, to see something of the world before settling down here forlife; but it is no easy matter to say what is best for you to do. Irelandoffers but little field for anyone's ambition. Since King James came tothe throne, and especially since Tyrconnell became governor, things havebeen a little more favourable for us; and I have hopes, yet, that justicewill be done to the Catholic population of this unhappy country. 

"Is it not monstrous, Colonel L'Estrange, that the very men who had ahand in the rebellion against King Charles the First, should still be inpossession, during the reign of his son, of the lands which were takenfrom my father because he was loyal to his king? And so it is all overIreland. The descendants of Cromwell's men lord it in the homes of thosewho were faithful to King Charles. "

"It certainly seems so, sir, " Colonel L'Estrange said; "but I am nopolitician. I am simply a soldier, and obey orders; but I own that itdoes seem a cruel injustice, that the great portion of the lands of thiscountry should be held by the descendants of Cromwell's soldiers, whilethe lawful owners, whose only fault was that they were loyal to theirking, should still be dispossessed of it. "

"But I think better times are coming, " Mr. Davenant said. "There can beno doubt of the king's leaning towards our religion. He has beenrestrained from carrying his goodwill towards us into effect, by hisprivy councillors and by the English party here, whose interest it is toprevent any change being made, and who constantly misrepresent thefeelings of this country. From the days when Strongbow first landed, thisisland has been the prey of adventurers, whose only object has been towrest the land from the native population. "

"But you are yourself a descendant of one of the early English settlers, Mr. Davenant. "

"That is true enough, " Mr. Davenant said smiling, "and, no doubt, he wasas bad as the rest of them; but, you see, we have held the land for somecenturies now, and, like the other descendants of Strongbow's men, havecome to look at matters from the Irish point of view, rather than theEnglish. However, I hope for better times. "

"You haven't heard the news, then, about the Prince of Orange?"

"No; what is the news?" Mr. Davenant asked. "There have been rumours, foryears, that he intended to make a bid for the English throne; but I haveheard nothing else. "

"There was a report, before I left London, that he has already sailedfrom Holland, " Colonel L'Estrange replied; "and, indeed, I have no doubtthe rumour is well founded. "

"But he will never succeed, " Mr. Davenant said eagerly. "He will be putdown as easily as Monmouth was. "

"I do not know, " Colonel L'Estrange said gravely. "The Protestant feelingin England is very strong. Monmouth was vain and empty headed, and hewrecked his own cause. The Dutchman is a different sort of manaltogether, and one thing is certain: if King James can make a mess ofmatters, he is sure to do so. The Stuarts have always been feeble andindecisive, and James is the most feeble and indecisive of them. IfWilliam succeeds in effecting a landing, I think his chance of success isa good one. "

"He may reign in England, " Mr. Davenant broke in passionately, "but hewill not reign in Ireland. 

"But forgive me, " he broke off. "I forgot, for a moment, that you are anEnglishman, and my guest. "

"You need not apologize, Mr. Davenant. As I said, I am a soldier and nopolitician. My ancestors were royalists, and I have no great love for theDutch stadtholder, who will be supported in England by the class who roseagainst King Charles. At the same time, it is difficult to feel muchenthusiasm for the Stuarts. The first was a pedant. The second threw awayhis chances, over and over again, by his duplicity and want of faith. Thethird was utterly selfish and unprincipled. The fourth is a gloomy bigot. Charles was, and James is, a pensioner of France. How can men be ready tosacrifice everything for such a race as this?"

"That is not the way in which we look at it in Ireland, " Mr. Davenantsaid. "The wars here are waged under various pretences. Someone is goadedinto rebellion, false charges are preferred wholesale, or there is areligious pretext; but we all know what is at the bottom of them all, simply the greed of English adventurers for Irish land; and, not contentwith having dispossessed the ancient owners of three-fourths of thecultivated land of the country, they want the remainder, and under thepretence that we, the descendants of the early settlers, are in sympathywith our Irish neighbours, they have marked us out for destruction, andalready a great portion of our estates is in the hands of Cromwell's men. So gross have been the abuses, that the commission, which the kingappointed to inquire into the seizure of our estates, only ventured tosit one day, for the proofs brought forward were so overwhelmingly strongthat it was seen at once that, did the inquiry continue, it would be mademanifest to all the world that justice could be satisfied by nothing lessthan a clear sweep of all those men who have seized our estates. 

"If Ireland rises in favour of King James, it will not be for any lovefor the Stuarts; but it will be to recover the land which has beenillegally wrested from us, and which, if Dutch William and his Whigadherents gain the upper hand, will be taken from us forever. Thereligious element will, of course, count for much. Already we havesuffered persecution for our religion; and, if the Whigs could have theirway, they would stamp it out utterly, with fire and sword. Things havelooked better, during the last five or six years, than they have donesince Cromwell first put foot in Ireland. We have begun to hope forjustice. Tyrconnell has stood up for us, and, with the goodwill of James, has gained many concessions. We have now what we never had before, anIrish army. The land thieves have been fairly alarmed, for they have seenthat the long delayed justice will be done us at last. Many have soldback their lands to the original owners, and have left the country. Others are only holding out for better terms. Another ten years ofJames's reign, and things would have righted themselves; but, if theDutchman ascends the throne of England, there is no hope for Ireland, save in the sword. "

"Well, we must hope it will not come to that, " Colonel L'Estrange said. "I am ready to fight the battles of England on the Continent, but civilwar, with all its horrors, sickens me; and civil war here is not like ourcivil war in England. There were no race animosities there, no memory ofcruel wrongs on one side or the other. Men fought for a principle, butthere were no atrocities committed, on either side, like those which havedevastated Germany. The peasant ploughed the land, and the trader keptopen his shop unmolested. It is true that, towards the end, there wereconfiscations of the property of those who still continued the strife, and a few executions of individuals; but, taking it as a whole, no warhas ever caused so little suffering, to the people at large, as did thecivil war in England; but assuredly, a war in Ireland now, like thosewhich have gone before, would be marked by the foulest atrocities, massacres, and destruction on both sides. "

"Yes, " Mr. Davenant said, "I must own that, for downright brutal andbloody ferocity, the wars in Ireland rival those of the Huns. "

Walter had listened in silence to this conversation. His father nowturned to him. 

"Have you heard whether Larry has recovered from his adventure ofyesterday as well as you have?"

"No, father, I have not heard anything about it. I came out here directlyI finished my breakfast. How are the people who were brought up here?"

"They are going on well, Walter, but they were all so bruised, as theywere being drawn up through the surf, that it will be some days beforeany of them can leave their beds. 

"How many had you on board, colonel?"

"I did not see the list of passengers, but there were twelve or fourteenaft, and, from what I saw, I should think as many more forward. Therewere twenty-three men in the crew. I suppose, altogether, there were somefifty on board. "

"Are you going to make a long stay in Ireland?"

"No; I shall only remain here a week or two. I am the bearer of someletters from the king to Tyrconnell; and that reminds me that I must bemaking my way on to Dublin. "

"I will ride in with you, " Mr. Davenant said. "I must tell my friendsthis news that you bring. It seems to me to be most serious. I will havea horse round for you here, in half an hour, if that will suit you. "

"Perfectly, " Colonel L'Estrange replied. "That will just give me time towalk round to the village, to see the lad you call Larry, for I could notgo without thanking him for the share he had in preserving my life. 

"Perhaps you will go down with me, Walter, and show me his house?"

When they reached the shore, they found the whole population of thevillage engaged in dragging up the spars, planks, and pieces of timberwith which the rocks were strewn. 

"There is Larry, " Walter said. "It is evident that there's nothing thematter with him. "

Larry was, indeed, just coming up, dragging a piece of timber behind him;while, in his left hand, he held a large bundle of fragments of wood, ofdifferent sizes, which, as well as the timber, he was taking home forfiring. 

"Larry, come here. The English gentleman wants to speak to you. "

The boy dropped his wood, and came up. 

"My lad, " Colonel L'Estrange said, "I am greatly indebted to you for yourwork of last night. Take this, " and he placed a purse of ten guineas inLarry's hand. 

"And remember that I am still greatly your debtor, and that if, at anyfuture time, you should be in a position in which my aid may be useful, you have only to let me know, and I will stand your friend. "

The sum appeared to Larry to be enormous. 

"Long life to yer honour, and it's proud I am to have been of service tosuch a grand gentleman. It's thankful I am for your kindness, and if everyou want a boy to do a job for you, it's myself that will be proud to doit. As to yesterday, I just came because the young squire tould me to, and thankful I am that he got back safe to shore, for, if we had beendrowned, I don't know whatever I should have said to the squire. "

Two days after the shipwreck, Walter and John Whitefoot met at the placewhich they had agreed on, when they last saw each other four days before. 

"I heard of your brave deed on the night of the storm, Walter. Everyoneis talking of it; and even my grandfather, who has seldom a good word forany of you at the Castle, said that it was a noble deed. It was as muchas I could do not to say, 'Yes, he is a friend of mine;' for I felt proudof you, I can tell you. "

"It is all nonsense, John. I have often been out in a curragh in badweather, though never in quite such a storm as that; but, once launched, she rode lightly enough, and scarce shipped a spoonful of water. "

"I should like to have been there, " John said; "but I should have been nouse. My people have always been against my going down to the sea, deemingit a pure waste of time, except that they let me go down to swim. I cando that well, you know; but they have always forbidden my going out inboats. Now, you see, it is proved that it is not a waste of time, for youhave been able to save many lives. The thought must make you very happy. "

"Well, I don't know that it does, particularly, " Walter said carelessly. "Of course, I was glad at the time, but I have not thought much about itone way or the other, since. You see, the news that has come has driveneverything else out of our heads. "

"Is it true, then, the report that we heard yesterday, that William ofOrange has set out for England?"

"Yes, it is true enough; and I am afraid, by what I hear, that it islikely to cause all sorts of troubles. "

"I suppose, " John said gravely; "and of course, in this matter my peoplethink differently from yours. You know we agreed that we would never talkon these subjects, but I am afraid the time is coming when there will benothing else to be talked of. "

"I am afraid so, too, John. My father thinks that there will be civil waragain. "

"Of course my grandfather is delighted, " John said quietly. "He has beengreatly disturbed in his mind, for some months, owing to the leanings ofKing James towards the Irish, which seem to point to his having to giveup no small portion of the lands. "

"We thought so too, John; and although it is your father who would lose, and mine who would gain, I don't think that even you can deny that itwould be reasonable. Your grandfather got the land from mine because hefought for Cromwell against the king, and Cromwell got the best of it. Well, it seems only reasonable that, when the king again came to thethrone, those who fought for him should get their own again. "

"It does seem so, Walter, I must own; and I am sure I should not havecared, for myself, if the land was given back again to your fathertomorrow. Then I suppose we should go back to England; and, as I know mygrandfather has done well, and has laid by a good deal of money, theycould take a farm there; and there would be more chance of their lettingme enter upon some handicraft. I would rather that, by a great deal, thanfarming. All these books you have lent me, Walter, have shown me whatgreat and noble deeds there are to be done in the world--I don't mean infighting, you know, but in other ways. And they make the life here, toiling on the farm from sunrise to sunset, with no object save that oflaying by every year more money, seem terribly empty and worthless. 

"By the way, my grandfather was, yesterday evening, rating my fatherbecause, instead of always keeping me hard at work, he allowed me once ortwice a week to be away for hours wasting my time--which means, though hedidn't know it, going about with you. My father said stoutly that he didnot think the time was altogether wasted, for that, in the last twoyears, I had made a notable advance in learning, and he was satisfiedthat I had benefited much by these intervals of recreation. Thereupon mygrandfather grumbled that I was too fond of reading, and that I wasfilling my mind with all sorts of nonsense, whereas true wisdom was to befound in one book only. 

"My father said that was true of religious wisdom, but that, for theadvancement of the world, it was needed that men should learn otherthings. Of course, my grandfather had three or four texts ready at hand;but my father had him by saying: 'You see, father, all the commandsissued to the Jews are not strictly applicable to us--for example, theywere ordered not to use horses; and I do not remember that Cromwell feltthat he was doing wrong, when he raised his ironsides. ' That was a poser, and so the matter dropped. "

Ten days later, when the boys met, John said:

"This is the last time we shall meet for some time, Walter, for I amgoing up to Derry to stay with a cousin of my father, who is settledthere and exercises the trade of a currier. I said, some months ago, thatI should like to learn a trade, but everyone was against it, then. Theyseemed to think that, as I should some day have the land, it was flyingin the face of Providence to think of anything else. But I suppose thefact that everything is so unsettled now, and that there is no sayingwhat may come of these events in England, may have made them thinkdifferently. 

"At any rate, my father said to me yesterday: 'We have been talking overwhat you said, about wishing to learn a trade. If all goes on well, thereis no occasion for you to learn any business save that of farming; butnone can say what the Lord may not have in store for us, or what troublesmay come upon us. In any case, it will do you no harm to see a little ofthe world outside our farm; and, therefore, your grandfather and I havesettled that you shall go for a few months to my cousin, who, as youknow, is a currier in Derry. He has often written, asking you to go andstay with him, seeing that he has no children of his own. Learn what youcan of his business; and if it should be that you find it more to yourliking than farming, I should not be one to hold you back from followingthe bent of your inclinations. 

"'But this is between ourselves. My father's ideas on these subjects youknow, and it would cause much trouble, did he think that you had any ideaof not following in the path in which he and I have trod. But to me itseems better that each should go on the path towards which his mind isturned--that is, when he has made quite sure, after long reflection andprayer, that it is no idle whim but a settled earnest desire. If, then, after your visit to your uncle, you feel that you are truly called tofollow a life other than that you would lead here, I shall not opposeyou. The Lord has blessed our labours. The land is fertile, and I canwell provide the moneys that will be needful to start you, either inbusiness with my cousin, or in such way as may appear best. '

"I thanked him gravely, but indeed, Walter, I had difficulty inrestraining myself from shouting with joy, for a life like that of myfather and grandfather here would be very grievous to me. I have nodesire to gain greater wealth than we have, but I long for a higher lifethan this. "

"I don't know, John, " Walter said doubtfully. "Unless, as you say, thesetroubles make a difference, you will be a large landowner some day; andthese bitternesses will die out in time, and you will take a verydifferent position from that which your grandfather holds. Of course, weregard him as a usurper, but you know, in the third generation thegrandson of a usurper becomes a legitimate monarch. My ancestors usurpedthe land from the native Irish by the sword, just as your grandfather didfrom us; but we came, in time, to be regarded as the natural lords of thesoil, and so will you. But to be a currier! That strikes me as atremendous come down!"

"I care nothing about coming up or coming down, " John said simply. "Ilong only for an honest mode of life, in which, instead of dwellingsolitary, and seeing no one from year to year save at our Sabbathmeetings, I may mix with others and take part in a more active and busylife. In itself, I do not suppose that the trade of a currier is a verypleasant one; but that matters little if, when work is done, one hasleisure for some sort of communication with others, and for improvingone's mind. It will be to me something like what going to court in Londonwould be to you, Walter. I am most grieved about my mother. She will missme sorely. 

"She said to me last night, 'I fear somewhat, John, that the course Ihave taken with you has greatly unfitted you for settling down here, aswe have done before you; but although I shall miss you sadly, I do notblame myself for what I have done. I think myself, my son, that there arehigher lives than that spent in tilling the soil from boyhood to old age. It is true the soil must be tilled. There must be ever hewers of wood anddrawers of water; but God has appointed for each his place, and I think, my son, that you have that within you which would render the life withwhich your father and grandfather have been well contented an irksome onefor you. 

"'I have no fear that we shall be always separated. Your grandfather isan old man, and when the Lord pleases to take him, your father and I willbe free to do as we choose, and can, if we like, dispose of this land andquit this troubled country, and settle in England or elsewhere, nearwhere you may be. It is true that we shall get little for the land; for, broad as are its acres, who will give much for a doubtful title? Butthere is ample laid by for our old age, and I see not the sense oflabouring incessantly, as does your grandfather, merely to lay up storeswhich you will never enjoy. Did I see any signs of a decrease in thebitter animosity which parties feel towards each other here, I mightthink differently; but there is no prospect of peace and goodwillreturning in your time, and therefore, no object in your father and Itoiling on for the rest of our lives, when the return of our labour willbe of little worth to you. Such being so, I do not regret that yourthoughts turn to the world of which you have read in books. The world isbut a secondary consideration to us, 'tis true, but I can see no specialgoodness in a life of dull monotony. '"

"I wonder where your mother got hold of her ideas, John. She is sodifferent from most of your people. "

"She is indeed, " John agreed. "It was from her mother that she receivedher teaching. I know she was not happy with her husband, who was asgloomy and fanatical as is my grandfather, and she ever looked back tothe happy days of her girlhood in England. I think she did for my motherjust what my mother has done for me, only the difference is that shenever had sufficient influence with her husband to enable her to carryout her views for her daughter, while my mother--"

"Has managed to have her own way, " Walter laughed. 

"I suppose so, and that in spite of my grandfather. Certainly I oweeverything to her, for I am sure, if it hadn't been for her, my fatherwould never have ventured to oppose the old man, even so far as to let meknow you. It makes one sad to think, Walter, that religion shouldsometimes make those who think most of it tyrants in their families. Mygrandfather is terribly earnest in his religion. There is no pretence ormistake about it; but, for all that, or rather because of it, he would, if he could, allow no one else to have a will or opinion of his own. "

"I don't think it's the religion, John, but the manner of the religion. My mother and grandmother are both as religious as anyone could be; but Idon't think I ever heard either of them say a hard word of a soul. Theirreligion is a pleasure to them, and not a task, and I know that someyears ago, when we had a priest who was always denouncing theProtestants, they very soon managed to get him changed for another. 

"What a funny thing it is, to be sure, that people should quarrel abouttheir religion! After all, we believe all the same important things; andas to others, what does it matter, provided we all do our best in the waythat seems right to us?"

But this was too liberal for John. He had been brought up in too strait asect to subscribe to such an opinion as this. 

"I do think it makes a difference, Walter, " he said slowly. 

"I don't, " Walter said. "It's just a matter of bringing up. If you hadbeen born in the Castle, and I had been born in your place, you wouldhave thought as I do, and I should have thought as you do; and of course, still more if you had been born in a Catholic country like Italy, whereyou would never have heard of Protestantism, and I had been born in aProtestant country like Holland, where I should never have had a chanceof becoming a Catholic. Very few people ever change their religion. Theyjust live and die as they have been born and educated. "

"It seems so, " John said after a pause; "but the question is too deep forus. "

"Quite so, " Walter laughed, "and I don't want to argue it. 

"Well, when are you going to start?"

"I am off tomorrow morning. My father has an acquaintance in Dublin whois starting for Derry, and I am to go in his charge. "

For another hour the boys chatted together, and then, with mutualpromises of writing regularly, whenever they had the chance, they saidgoodbye; and the following morning John started with his father toDublin, and next day journeyed north towards Derry. 

Chapter 3: The King In Ireland. 

On the 12th of November, a vessel arrived in Dublin with the news thatWilliam of Orange had landed at Torbay on the 5th. The news created thewildest excitement. The Protestants, who had been deeply depressed, bythe apparent intention of James to hand back, to their original owners, the land which had been wrested from them, now took heart and beganopenly to arm. Upon the other hand, the Catholics felt that, if Williamand the Whigs succeeded to the chief power in England, their faith, theirremaining property, and their lives were alike menaced, and they, too, prepared to fight to the last for all they held dear. 

Walter rode several times with his father into Dublin. The streetspresented a strange spectacle. They were crowded with Protestantfugitives from the country districts. These had forsaken all, and flockedinto Dublin, fearing that the Irish would retaliate for past grievancesby a general massacre. The banks of the Liffey were crowded by thesefugitives, who, with tears and cries, besought the captains of thevessels lying there to give them passage to England. All sorts of rumoursof bloodshed, massacre, and destruction circulated through the city. TheProtestants in the north were said to have fallen upon the Catholicpopulation, and to have put them to the sword, while in the south andwest it was said the Catholics had taken the same measures against theProtestants. Both reports were equally false, but they were generallybelieved, and added to the panic and dismay. 

In fact, however, both parties were waiting. The Protestants dared notcommence hostilities until assured that William was firmly seated on theEnglish throne, and ready to come to their assistance. The Catholics wereequally desirous to maintain the peace, until assured that no hoperemained save the sword. 

A month after John Whitefoot had left, Walter received a letter from him:

Dear Friend Walter:

You will have heard, no doubt, of the troubles that have arisen here. Myfather sent me here to learn a trade, but at present, all men's minds areso agitated that there is no talk save of arms and of fighting. Mykinsman is as bad as the others. He spends the day going hither andthither among the townsfolk, and has been made an officer in one of thesix companies which have been raised here, and pays no further heed tobusiness. The town is mightily divided: the younger and more zealousspirits are all for fighting, while almost all the older and wealthiercitizens are opposed to this. 

"This is how the trouble began. The Earl of Tyrconnell sent, as you know, three thousand soldiers to help King James, at the first news of thelanding of the prince, and to do so he withdrew the regiment which was ingarrison in this town. On the 7th of this month of December, the peoplehere heard that the regiment of the Earl of Antrim was approaching thetown to take the place of those troops. When the news arrived, there wasa sort of panic in the town, and the news was spread that this regimentwas intended to massacre the people. 

"Why this should be I do not know, and I cannot but think that the alarmwas a false one. However, the regiment arrived on the river bank, andsome of its officers crossed and entered the city. When they were incouncil with some of the leading citizens, a party of apprentices, withsome of the rabble, shut the gates. For some time there was great debate. The older citizens were mostly in favour of admitting the earl'sregiment. Why, they asked, should Derry alone defy the power ofTyrconnell and King James? If King William made his cause good, and cameover to Ireland to aid the Protestants, it would be time enough for themen of Derry to join him, and to fight for their faith; but if they nowstood alone, they could do no good to the cause of King William, andwould bring destruction on themselves and their city. 

"But these arguments were of no avail. The apprentices and all the youngmen of the town, and the fugitives who had come in from the countryround, were all for fighting, and so the gates were kept shut; and LordAntrim, seeing that he could do nothing against such a strong place asDerry, marched away with his regiment. This seems to me a fair account ofwhat has happened. What will come of it I know not; but, being aProtestant, my feelings would incline me to the side of William. Yet itseems to me that his friends here have acted hastily, in thus adventuringthemselves against all the forces of King James, and that sore trouble islike to come upon the town. However, it is not for me to judge. I am aswarm as any of them in defence of our religion, and shall try to do mybest in case of need. I am sorry, dear Walter, that we have to takedifferent sides in this quarrel, but of course we are each of the opinionof our elders, and must not blame each other for what is indeed not ofour own choosing. 

"This is a fair city, standing on rising ground by a stately river, andwith strong walls; and at any other time life would be very pleasanthere, although living among so many people seems strange to me, after mylife on the farm. I hear all sorts of tales about fighting in otherparts, and of the slaughter of Protestants by rapparees, but know notwhether they are true. As my cousin, who is an earnest man, is whollytaken up with the present affairs, and all business is at a stand, I havelittle to do, and spend much of my time by the river side, and have takento fishing, which I like mightily, and yesterday I caught a fish weighingthree pounds, and we had him for dinner. I often wish you were with me. Write me a long letter, and tell me all that you are doing. 

"Your affectionate friend, "John Whitefoot. "

Indeed, throughout all Ireland preparations for war were going on. Allover the north, the Protestants were banding themselves in arms; and, under the excuse of some outrages, committed by a few isolated parties ofpeasants known as rapparees, were everywhere harrying the Catholics, carrying fire and sword into quiet villages, burning, slaying, andcarrying off their grain and cattle. Throughout the whole of Ulster, Charlemont and Carrickfergus alone remained in the hands of King James'stroops. 

England and Scotland had now accepted William as their king, and Jameshad fled to France. With the exception of Ulster, Ireland remainedstaunch to King James. In the south Lord Inshiquin, and in Connaught LordKingston, had each raised corps among the Protestant settlers forWilliam, and were the first to commence hostilities, and the latter, marching north, made an attack on Carrickfergus. 

Tyrconnell now issued commissions to several of the Catholic nobility andgentry, to raise troops for the king's service, and as the peopleresponded to the call readily, some fifty regiments of foot and severaltroops of horse were soon raised. But though men were forthcoming inabundance, there was a great want of arms and all munitions of war. Therewere, in the government stores, only twenty thousand arms, and most ofthese were old weapons, that had been returned to store as unserviceable, and only about a thousand muskets were found to be of any use. There wasno artillery or ammunition, and no money with which these necessariescould be purchased abroad. The gentry would have willingly contributed, but all had been well-nigh ruined by the confiscation of their property, and could do little towards filling the treasury. 

Never did a nation enter upon a war so badly provided with allnecessaries as did Ireland, when she resolved to adhere to the cause ofher king, and to resist the power of England and Scotland, aided by thatof Holland and the Protestant States of Germany. 

Mr. Davenant had been one of the first to respond to the invitation ofTyrconnell, and had set about raising a troop of horse. He had nodifficulty in getting the number of men in Bray and the surroundingvillages, and the difficulty in mounting them was overcome by thepatriotism of sundry gentlemen and citizens of Dublin, who willinglycontributed their spare horses to the king's service. 

Their arms were various. Some had swords, some short pikes, while a fewonly had pistols; but the smiths everywhere toiled hard convertingscythes and reaping hooks into swords and pikes, and before they wereready to take the field, the whole troop were provided with swords. 

Walter had eagerly begged his father to appoint him cornet of the troop, and Mr. Davenant might have yielded, had it not been for his wife'sentreaties. Even old Mrs. Davenant, intensely loyal as she was to thecause of James, sided with her daughter in law. 

"Of course, Fergus, you will do your duty to the king. It would indeed bea shame for a Davenant to hold back; but, at Walter's age there can be nooccasion for him, as yet, to take a commission. I am ready to give myson, as I gave my husband, to the king; and when Walter becomes a man, hetoo must go, if duty demands it; but for the present, assuredly there isno reason why such a boy should mix himself up in this unhappy struggle. Besides, if aught befalls you, it is to him that his mother will have tolook in the future. There are hundreds and thousands of strong and activemen in Ireland, and the necessity has not yet come for boys to take thefield. "

So Walter, to his intense disappointment, was refused the cornetcy of thetroop, but his father, who fully entered into his feelings, finally toldhim that, when the troop took the field, he should accompany him. 

"You are not to carry arms, Walter, or to mix yourself up in any way withit. You will be a sort of camp follower, you know; but you will see allthat goes on, and will be able to prepare yourself to take your place inthe ranks, if the war should, unhappily, go on for any time. "

With this Walter had to be satisfied; and, indeed, although somewhatdisappointed at not being, at once, allowed to join the troop, he feltsure that it would not be very long before his father, once away from theinfluence of his wife and mother, would allow him to join. 

"May I take Larry with me, father? He would look after my horse, andwould be useful to you for running messages, and all sorts of things. Hewants to go very much. You see, his uncle and two or three of his cousinshave joined the troop, and he would have joined, too, if you had notthought him too young. "

"The worst of you and Larry is, that you are always getting into somescrape together, " Mr. Davenant said, with a smile. 

"But I should not get into scrapes on such a business as this, " Waltersaid indignantly. "This is a serious affair, and of course, going withyou, I should be very particular. "

"Yes, as long as I was close by, Walter. However, I don't mind yourtaking Larry. He would, as you say, be useful, and you will want somebodyto look after your horse and act as your servant. We may be separated, sometimes, for the troop may be sent on detached service, when I couldnot take you with me. "

The permission to take Larry quite reconciled Walter to the downfall ofhis hopes of going as cornet, and, in high spirits, he hastened down tothe village, to tell Larry that his father had consented to hisaccompanying him. 

All through January, Mr. Davenant was busy drilling his troop. Throughoutall Ireland, both parties were preparing for the storm which was soon toburst. Lord Mountjoy, a Protestant nobleman, was sent with his regiment, which consisted for the most part of Protestants, to Derry. He held ameeting with the leading townspeople, who agreed to admit the Protestantsoldiers, upon the condition that no more troops were sent. Accordingly, the Protestant troops, under Colonel Lundy, entered the town, and LordMountjoy assumed the governorship. 

Tyrconnell soon perceived that he had made a mistake in sending Mountjoyto Derry, for instead of overawing the inhabitants, his regiment had, infact, become a part of the rebel garrison. He therefore recalled Mountjoyand sent him over to France, on the pretence of an embassy to King James, but, as soon as he arrived there, he was treacherously thrown intoprison. 

The people of Derry received quantities of powder and arms from Scotland, and, on the 20th of February, the Prince of Orange was formallyproclaimed king in Derry; and this example was followed throughoutUlster. This was, in fact, the beginning of the war. Anxious to saveIreland from the horrors of civil war, Lord Granard, and other Protestantnoblemen of the council, joined Tyrconnell in issuing a proclamation, ordering the Protestant corps to lay down their arms; and as they did notobey, Lieutenant General Hamilton was despatched to the north, with athousand regular troops and a considerable number of irregulars. 

These came up with the insurgents at Dromore, and defeated them withgreat slaughter. They rallied at Hillsborough, but again were defeatedand scattered. Hamilton divided his force, and, marching through thenorth, reduced Ulster to submission, with the exception only of thefortified towns of Enniskillen and Derry. In the south General M'Cartywas equally successful in clearing Munster of William's adherents, anddefeated Lord Inshiquin in every encounter. 

On the 14th of March, Mr. Davenant, who had ridden into Dublin, returnedin the evening with the news that the king had landed at Kinsale, twodays before, with fifteen hundred Irish troops in the pay of France, anda hundred French officers, intended to aid in drilling the new levies. 

"I am glad, indeed, that he has arrived, for had he been met on the seasby the English fleet, all our hopes might have been dashed at a blow. Nowthat he is with us, it will rouse the enthusiasm of the people to theutmost. If he is wise, he will surely be able to unite all Ireland underhim; save of course the fanatics of the north, who, however, can donothing against the whole strength of the country, since Hamilton'slittle force, alone, has been sufficient to put down all opposition, savewhere they remain shut up behind the walls of Derry and Enniskillen. 

"It is not with them that we have to cope alone--they would be utterlypowerless--it is with the army of England and Scotland we shall have tofight. Unfortunately we have no fleet, and they can land wherever theychoose; but now the king is really among us, all who have hithertowavered will join. Let England and Scotland choose their king as theywill, but there is no reason why Ireland should desert its rightfulmonarch at their bidding. "

"When will the king arrive at Dublin, father?"

"He goes first to Cork, Walter. Tyrconnell has set out, and will meet himthere. They say he will be here in about ten days' time. The Frenchambassador, the Marquis d'Avaux, comes with him, and many French nobles. "

"Do you think, father, he will at once order that his friends shallreceive the land again which was taken from them by Cromwell's soldiers?"

"I hope not, my boy. It is his interest and not our own we must think ofnow; and if Ireland is to resist, successfully, the English andcontinental troops of Dutch William, we must be united--we must beIrishmen first, Catholics and Protestants afterwards. I trust that hewill issue such proclamations as will allay the alarm of the Protestants, and bind us all together. 

"King James is not like his father. In no single case, since he came tothe throne, has he broken his royal word once given; therefore, all mayfeel confidence in any promises he may make. I have, of course, no hopethat anything he can say will influence the fanatics of Derry andEnniskillen, but we can afford to disregard them. They are entailingmisery and suffering upon themselves, without the slightest benefit tothe cause they advocate. If we beat the English, of course those placesmust finally surrender. If the English beat us, they will get their DutchWilliam as king, without any effort on their part. I think, myself, thatit will be very unwise to attempt anything against those two places. Thepeople there can shut themselves up in their walls, as long as they like, and by so doing can in no way harm us. If we take their towns, it willonly add to the bad blood that already exists. Better by far leave themto themselves, until the main battle is fought out. "

On the 23rd, the news came that the king was to arrive in Dublin the nextday, and Mr. Davenant, or, as he was now called, Captain Davenant, wentover, with all the gentry of the neighbourhood, to meet him. 

King James was received with enthusiasm. Addresses were presented to himby the several public bodies, and by the clergy of the EstablishedChurch. His answer to these addresses gave satisfaction to all. Hepromised favour and protection to the Established Protestant Church;issued an invitation to the Protestants who had fled the kingdom toreturn to their homes, and assured them of safety and his particularcare; and he commanded that, with the exception of the military, noCatholics should carry arms in Dublin. Finally, he summoned a parliamentto meet him in Dublin on the 7th of May. 

One day, a messenger arrived with a despatch for Captain Davenant. 

"We are to move into Dublin, tomorrow, Walter, " he said when he read it. "We are to take the field at once. The king himself is going to march incommand of us against Derry. I think his majesty is wrong; and I knowthat Tyrconnell has argued strongly against his intention. There arethree reasons against it. First, as I told you, I think it were better toleave Derry alone, until the main issue is settled. Secondly, King Jameshas no military experience whatever, and if ought goes wrong with theexpedition, he will lose prestige. Thirdly, although it were well for himto be with the army when it fights a foreign foe, it were better that heshould not lead it against men who are, however much they may rebelagainst him, his own subjects. 

"I know Tyrconnell has set forth these objections to him; but, unhappily, obstinacy is a fault of all the Stuart race, and it generally happensthat they are most obstinate when most wrong. However, I trust that whenDerry sees so strong a force marching against it, it will open its gateswithout resistance. A siege can only entail horrible suffering on thetown; and that suffering will, in the end, tell against James's cause, for it will excite the sympathy of the Protestants in England andScotland, and make them all the hotter to conquer Ireland. "

The following day, the troop was mustered in front of the castle, and, after a tender farewell to his wife and mother, Captain Davenant placedhimself at their head and rode off. A quarter of an hour later Walter, with Larry Doolan on a rough little pony by his side, rode after thetroop. 

Dublin was reached in the afternoon. The town presented a festiveappearance. The principal streets were still draped with the flags whichhad been hung out at the king's entry, five days before. The streets werethronged with people, for loyalists had come in from all parts of thecountry to welcome the king. 

Large numbers of men, belonging to the newly raised regiments, wanderedamong the crowd, and with these were mingled the French uniforms of theIrish troops who had come over with James. The troop was loudly cheeredby the crowd, as it passed through the town to the spot assigned to it inthe camp of the force gathered near the city. Walter and Larry rode ashort distance behind the troop, and joined it as soon as it reached theground allotted to it. 

"It was a brave sight, father, was it not, to see the city decked out, and all the people cheering for the king? Dublin is setting a fineexample--isn't it?"

"You must not set much weight upon the cheering of a crowd, Walter. I donot say that the people of Dublin may not, at the present moment, beloyal to the king; but if he were defeated, and William were to march in, you would see that they would cheer him just as heartily. The mob ofLondon cheered King James, as he passed through it, a week before he wasso ill advised as to fly; and they threw up their hats for joy, afortnight later, for William. No, my boy--there is no dependence on amob. They worship success, and the king who is present is sure to bevastly more dear to them than the king who is absent. 

"And now you had better help Larry picket your horses. Put them by theside of mine. See how the troopers fasten theirs, and do yours the same. When that is done, send Larry to get hold of some wood, and light a fire. It will be cold when the sun goes down. As for food, we have broughtenough with us for tonight. Tomorrow, I suppose, we shall get rations. "

Captain Davenant now posted a certain number of men to look after thehorses, and the rest set off to cut firewood; and, in an hour, four orfive great fires were blazing. Forage was served out for the horses, fromthe stores which had been collected, and also a truss of straw to everythree soldiers, as bedding. 

Walter had, in the meantime, strolled away among the other camps, and wasgreatly amused at the various shifts and contrivances that the men hadmade to make themselves comfortable. A few only of the officers hadtents; for these, as well as all other necessaries of war, were wanting;and the troops who had, for some little time, been in camp there, hadraised all sorts of shelter from the weather. Some had constructed littlehuts of turf, thatched with straw or rushes; others had erected littletents, some of sailcloth obtained from the shipping, others of blankets, coarse linen cloaks, or any other articles on which they could lay hands. All were in high spirits at the prospect of the termination of themonotony of continued drill, and of the commencement of activecampaigning. Huge fires blazed everywhere, and the country, for somedistance round, had been completely stripped of its wood. 

Everywhere was life and bustle. Men were cleaning their arms, preparatoryto the march of next day. Others were cooking at the fires. Troopers weregrooming their horses. Snatches of song, and loud laughter, rose in theair. 

After wandering about for an hour, Walter rejoined his father. CaptainDavenant was sitting with the two officers of his troop, LieutenantO'Driscoll and Cornet Heron, by a fire, the materials for which the threetroopers who acted as their servants had collected. There was no cookingto be done, for sufficient cold provisions had been brought with thetroop. 

"You are just in time, Walter, " his father said. "We are going to fallto, at once, at our meal. 

"Hand over that cold chicken, Larry; and do you, Tim Donelly, broach thatkeg of claret. Give me the bread, Fergus--that's right. 

"Now, gentlemen, here's a hunk each. Plates are a luxury which we must dowithout, in the field. Now let us fall to. "

Walter seated himself on a truss of straw beside his father, and thoughthe had never enjoyed a meal so much, in his life, as the bread and coldchicken, eaten as they were in the open air in front of the cracklingfire. Each was provided with a horn, and these were filled from the keg. 

"Here's to the king, gentlemen. Success to his arms!"

All stood up to drink the toast, and then continued their meal. Threechickens vanished rapidly, and the troopers kept their horns filled withclaret. 

"If we always do as well as that, " Captain Davenant said, as theyfinished the meal, "we shall have no reason to grumble. But I fear that'stoo much to expect. 

"Bring me my pipe and tobacco, Larry. You will find them in the holstersof my saddle. 

"Fergus, do you undo these trusses, and lay the straw out even--that willdo. 

"Now, lads, you will find plenty more provisions in the wallet. Do you goand get your own suppers, then give an eye to the horses. We shall notwant anything more. "

For two or three hours, the three officers and Walter sat chatting by thefire, occasionally piling on fresh logs. Gradually the din of voices inthe camp died away, and the bright fires burned down. 

"I think we had better turn in, " Captain Davenant said at last. "We mustbe astir an hour before daylight, for we march as soon as it's light. "

Rolling themselves in their long cloaks, they lay down upon the straw. Itwas some time before Walter got to sleep. The novelty of the situation, and the strangeness of lying with the night air blowing in his face, madehim unusually wakeful. Occasionally, too, a laugh, from some party whowere sitting late round their fire, attracted his attention, and thesound of the snorting and pawing of the horses also kept him awake; butat last he, too, went off to sleep. 

In spite of his warm cloak, he felt stiff and chilled when the sound ofthe trumpets and drums roused the camp. 

"Well, Walter, how do you like sleeping in the open?" his father said, ashe rose to his feet and shook himself. 

"I don't mind the sleeping, father, but the waking is not so pleasant. However, I shall soon get accustomed to it, I suppose. But I always didhate getting up in the dark, even when we were going out fishing. "

"You won't always get as comfortable a bed as this, Walter; so don'texpect it. The time will come, ere long, when you will look back uponthis as absolute luxury. We are not likely to get straw another night, Ican tell you. 

"Now, Fergus, bring that wallet here. We must breakfast before we get inthe saddle. "

Walter came to the conclusion that breakfast, eaten in the dark, was avery inferior meal to dinner before a great fire. However, he kept histhoughts to himself, and, as soon as he had finished, went to aid Larryin saddling the horses. 

"I suppose I can ride with you today, father?" he said, as he mounted. 

"Yes; there will not be any military display by the way. Many of thesoldiers have got nothing in the way of uniform at present. So you canride with me. But if any general officer comes along, you must draw off alittle, and drop behind with Larry, who will follow in the rear of thetroop. "

As soon as daylight appeared, the bugles gave the signal, and the force, preceded by its cavalry, started on its march towards the north. 

Chapter 4: The Siege Of Derry. 

There was an air of excitement in the streets of Derry. Knots of peoplewere gathered, talking excitedly. Women stood at the doors of all thehouses, while men moved aimlessly and restlessly about between thegroups, listened for a time to a speaker, and then moved on again. Thework of strengthening the defences, which had gone on incessantly for thelast three months, had ceased, while numbers of persons were gathered onthe walls, looking anxiously towards the south. A general air of gloomand despondency hung over the place. The storm which Derry had braved wasgathering around it at last. King James and his troops were advancingagainst it. 

Opinion was strongly divided in the city. Almost without exception, theolder citizens deprecated resistance. The walls, indeed, were strong, andthe position formidable. The king had no artillery worth speaking of, andthe walls, manned by brave men, might well, for a definite time, resistassault; but the stores of food could not long support the largepopulation now gathered in the town, and there seemed no possibility, whatever, of assistance from England before the horrors of famine wouldbe upon them. To what purpose, then, oppose resistance, which must, evenif successful, cause frightful sufferings to the inhabitants, and which, if unsuccessful, would hand over the city to the vengeance of James. 

The garrison had been strengthened by two regiments and a vast quantityof supplies. But, including everything, there were but provisions for tendays, and as many weeks might elapse before assistance could come. 

The younger and more ardent spirits were for resistance to the last. 

"Better, " they said, "die of hunger, than surrender the Protestantstronghold to the Papists. "

Every hour brought crowds of fugitives, the inhabitants of all thevillages deserting their homes at the approach of the royal forces, andflying, with what goods they could carry, to Derry. 

Archdeacon Hamilton had arrived with a message from the king, offeringthat if the city would, within four days, surrender, there should be anamnesty to all for past offences, and that the property of all theinhabitants should be respected. This proposition was now beingconsidered by the governor and his council, together with all theprincipal officers of the English regiments. 

John Whitefoot had been out all day, and had just returned to hiscousin's house, which was crowded with fugitives, as the tanner hadfriends and connections in all the villages, and had opened his doors toall who sought shelter, until every room was filled. It was a pitifulsight to see women, with their babies in their arms and their childrengathered round them, sitting forlornly, almost indifferent to themomentous consultation which was going on, and thinking only of theirdeserted homes, and wondering what had befallen them. The men had, forthe most part, been out in the streets gathering news. The tanner's wife, assisted by two or three of the women, was busy at the great fire on thehearth, over which hung some huge pots in which broth and porridge werebeing prepared. 

One by one, the men dropped in. No news had yet been heard as to thedecision of the council. It was dark when the tanner himself entered. Hisface was stern and pale. 

"It is settled, " he said shortly. "The council have broken up. I havejust spoken to one of the members. They and the officers are unanimouslyin favour of accepting the terms of James. "

Exclamations of anger broke from some of the men. 

"I cannot say aught against it, " the tanner said, "though my heart feelswell-nigh broken. Had we only men here, I should say let us fight to thelast, but look at all these women and children! Think what thousands andthousands of them are in the town. Truly, I cannot blame the council thatthey have decided not to bring this terrible suffering upon the city. "

"The Lord will provide for his own, " a minister, who had come in with hisflock, said. "Friend, I had looked for better things from you. I thoughtthat you were steadfast in the cause of the Lord, and now that the timeof trouble comes, you fall away at once. Remember how Sennacherib and hishost died before Jerusalem. Cannot the Lord protect Londonderrylikewise?"

"The age of miracles is past, " the tanner said. "Did we not see, inGermany, how Magdeburg and other Protestant cities were destroyed, withtheir inhabitants, by the Papists? No, Brother Williams, the wicked aresuffered to work their will here, when they are stronger than the godly, and we must look for no miracles. I am ready to fight, and, had thecouncil decided otherwise, would have done my share to the last; but myheart sickens, as I look round on the women, the weak, and ailing. DidJames demand that we should renounce our religion, I would say let us alldie by sword or Famine rather than consent; but he has offered tolerationto all, that none shall suffer for what has been done, and that theproperty as well as the lives of all shall be respected. 

"Truly, it seems to me that resistance would be not bravery, but a sortof madness. There are promises of aid from England; but how long may wehave to wait for them? And there are but ten days' provisions in thetown. If these English officers of King William think that resistance ishopeless, why should I, who know nought of war, set myself against them?"

"Because they have not faith, " the minister said, "and you should havefaith; because they think only of carnal weapons, and you should trust tothe Lord. Remember Leyden, how help came when all seemed lost. "

"I do, " the tanner replied, "and I remember how the women and childrensuffered and died, how they dropped in the streets and perished withfamine in their houses. I remember this, and I shrink from saying 'let usresist to the end. ' I should rejoice if they had decided that Derryshould be deserted, that the women and children should be sent away toshelter in the mountains of Donegal, and that every man should march outand do combat with the army of James. We are numerous, and far betterarmed than the Papists, and victory might be ours; but, were itotherwise, were every man fated to fall on the field, I would still saylet us march forward. It is not death that I fear, but seeing these weakand helpless ones suffer. I should not envy the feelings of the men whodecided on resistance, when the time came that the women and childrenwere dying of hunger around them. There is a time to fight; and a time tosheath the sword, and to wait until a chance of drawing it successfullyagain arrives; and methinks that, having such good terms offered, thepresent is the time for waiting. "

The preacher waved his hand impatiently, and, wrapping himself in hiscloak, left the house without another word. The next day the capitulationwas signed, and the following day the army of James was seen approaching, and presently halted, on a hill within cannon shot of the town. 

Londonderry stands in a bend of the river Foyle, and the position whichthe army took up at once isolated it from the surrounding country. Theoffer of capitulation had already been sent out to General Hamilton byCaptain White, the bearer receiving instructions to stipulate that thearmy should not advance within four miles of the town, until all wasready to hand over the city. In the meantime, General Rosen, who was inchief command of the army, stationed it so as to extend from one cornerof the bend of the river to the other, and so to cut off allcommunication between the city and the surrounding country; but, in thecourse of the day, a country gentleman named Murray made his way throughtheir lines, with a body of cavalry, and rode up to the gate of the town. 

The governor refused to open it, but, in spite of his orders, some of thetownspeople opened the gate, and Murray rode into the town, and, goingfrom point to point, exhorted the people not to surrender but to resistto the last, accusing the governor and council of foul treachery, in thushanding over the city. 

The confusion and excitement in the streets was now great, and, whilethis was going on, the governor sent a trumpeter to the king, requiringone hour's time before the city should surrender. 

Rosen took no notice of this, and, believing that all was arranged, rodeforward with the king and a portion of the army. But Murray'sexhortations and passionate harangues had their effect. A number of thetownspeople ran to the walls, and, loading the cannon, opened, with theseand their muskets, a heavy fire on the approaching troops. Several of thesoldiers were killed, and among them was Captain Troy, who was ridingclose to the king. 

Astonished at this unexpected resistance, the troops drew back, as theywere entirely without means of making an assault upon the city. Thegovernor and council at once sent Archdeacon Hamilton to the royal camp, to excuse themselves for what had happened, and to explain that thefiring was the action of a turbulent body of men, whom they were unableto restrain, and whom they represented as drunken rebels. The betterclass of citizens, they said, were all resolved to surrender dutifully, and were doing all they could to persuade the common people to do thesame. 

As the royal artillery had not yet arrived, James drew off his troops toSaint Johnston. Murray, with a body of horse, went out and skirmishedwith them, but returned into the town on hearing that the council stillintended to surrender, and again harangued the people. 

Eight thousand men assembled on the parade, and, after listening to apassionate harangue, declared that they would resist to the last. They atonce chose a preacher named Walker, and a Mr. Baker, as joint governors, appointed Murray as general in the field, divided themselves into eightregiments, and took the entire control of the city into their hands. Archdeacon Hamilton, Lundy, and several of the principal citizens at onceleft the town, in disguise, and were allowed to pass through thebesieging army. 

John Whitefoot had been present at all the events which had taken placethat day, and, although he had quite agreed with his cousin thatresistance would do no good to the cause, and would entail fearfulsufferings on the besieged, he was carried away by the generalenthusiasm, and shouted as loudly as any in reply to the exhortations ofMurray. The tanner was also present. John was by his side, and saw thathe was deeply moved by the speech, but he did not join in theacclamations. When all was over, he laid his hand on John's shoulder:

"The die is cast, my boy. I am glad that no act or voice of mine has hadaught to do with bringing it about, and that the weight of what is tocome will not rest upon my conscience. But, now that it is decided, Ishall not be one to draw back, but will do my share with what strengththe Lord has given me. "

"May I join one of the regiments, too?" John asked. "I am young, but I amas strong as many men. "

"It were better not, at present, John. Before the end comes, every armthat can bear weapon may be needed, but, at present, there is no reasonwhy you should do so. Doubtless, plenty of work will be found for youngerhands, besides absolute fighting, but I think not that there will be muchfighting, save against famine. Our walls are strong, and we havewell-nigh forty pieces of cannon, while they say that James has but sixpieces, and most of these are small. 

"Methinks, then, that they will not even attempt to take the city bystorm. Why should they waste men in doing so, when they can starve usout? It is famine we have to fight, in this sort of war. I do not thinkthat James has, in all Ireland, cannon sufficient to batter down ourwalls; but ten days will bring our provisions to an end. It will be withus as with Leyden. We have only to suffer and wait. If it be God's will, succour will come in time. If not, we must even perish. "

With his spirits somewhat damped by his cousin's view of the case, Johnreturned with him to the house. He would willingly enough have gone out, to fight against the besiegers, but the thought of the long slow agony ofstarvation was naturally terrible to a lad of good health and appetite. 

The mob of Derry had shown good sense in the choice which they made oftheir governors. Baker, indeed, who was a military man, was a mere cipherin the matter. Walker was, in reality, the sole governor. He was a man ofenergy and judgment, as well as enthusiastic and fanatical, and he atonce gave evidence of his fitness for the post, and set himselfdiligently to work to establish order in the town. 

He issued orders that all unable to bear arms, who wished to leave thetown, could do so, while the able-bodied men, now formed into regiments, were assigned every man his place, and every regiment its quarter, on thewalls. No less than thirty thousand fugitives, exclusive of the garrison, were shut up in the walls of Derry, and the army which was besieging thetown numbered twenty thousand. 

The guns of the besiegers soon opened fire, and those on the wallsreplied briskly. The besiegers threw up works, but carried on the siegebut languidly, feeling sure that famine must, ere long, force the town tosurrender; and fearing, perhaps, to engage the fresh and ill-trainedlevies against a multitude, animated by the desperate resolution andreligious fanaticism of the defenders of the town. 

Now that the die was once cast, there was no longer any difference ofopinion among the inhabitants, and all classes joined enthusiastically inthe measures for defence. All provisions in the town were given into onecommon store, to be doled out in regular rations, and so made to last aslong as possible; and, as these rations were, from the first, extremelysmall, the sufferings of the besieged really began from the first day. 

John Whitefoot found that there was but little for him to do, and spentmuch of his time on the walls, watching the throwing up of works by thebesiegers. 

A regular cannonade was now kept up on both sides; but, though the shotoccasionally fell inside the town, the danger to the inhabitants fromthis source was but slight; for, of the six guns possessed by thebesiegers, five were very small, and one only was large enough to carryshell. All day the various chapels were open, and here the preachers, bytheir fiery discourses, kept up the spirits and courage of the people whothronged these buildings. The women spent most of their time there, andthe men, when off duty from the walls, however fatigued they might bewith their labour, flocked at once to the chapels, to pray for strengthto resist and for early succour. Never were the whole population of thetown more deeply animated by religious excitement, never a wholepopulation more thoroughly and unanimously determined to die, rather thansurrender. 

When not upon the walls or in chapel, John spent much of his time inamusing the children, of whom there were many in the tanner's house. Thechange from their country quarters, the crowded town, the privation ofmilk, and the scantiness and unfitness of their rations, soon began totell upon the little ones, and John felt thankful, indeed, that his mindhad been stored with stories from his varied reading of the last two orthree years. With these, he was able to interest and quiet the children, who sat round him with wrapt attention, while the booming of the guns andthe occasional rattling of musketry outside passed unheeded. 

Scarce a day passed without active fighting, the initiative being alwaystaken by the besieged, for, in the royal army, the policy of blockaderather than assault was steadily adhered to. The besieged, however, continually sallied out, and attacked the parties engaged in throwing upworks. There was no settled plan of operations; but the commander on eachportion of the walls led out his men against the enemy, whenever hethought he saw a favourable opportunity. The fights which ensued werestoutly contested, and many were killed, but no advantage was gained oneither side. If it was the intention of the besieged to incite theRoyalists to make an attack upon the city, they failed altogether, and, indeed, would have served their purpose better had they remained quietlywithin the walls, for the energy and desperation with which they foughtwere well calculated to deter even the most energetic commander fromattacking a town defended by eight or nine thousand men, animated by suchfiery energy. 

So confident, indeed, were the besieged, that the gates were often leftopen, and taunting invitations to come on and take Derry were shouted tothe besiegers. The supply of provisions found to be stored away wasvastly greater than had been expected, for many of the fugitives hadbrought in large stores, and a great number of the inhabitants had been, for weeks, making preparation for the siege, by buying up quantities ofgrain and storing it in their cellars. 

Thus, up to the end of the first month, although the allowance of foodwas short, no real suffering was undergone by the inhabitants; but, astime went on, the supplies doled out became smaller and smaller, anddysentery and fever broke out in the crowded town. 

Fierce disputes arose between those belonging to the Established Churchand the Nonconformists, and it was with the greatest difficulty thatGovernor Walker prevented the two parties from engaging in open strife. Day and night, the besiegers' fire continued, and many were killed by theshells which fell in the city. The fighting men on the walls were farbetter off than those who had nothing to do but to wait and suffer, andit was among the women and children, chiefly, that disease at first madeits victims. 

For a time, the children of the families who had taken refuge with thetanner remained healthy. The visitors were lodged for the most part inthe cellars, so as to be in shelter from the fire of the enemy's mortar;but John Whitefoot suggested to his cousin that the children would soonpine and sicken, unless they had air. The tanner gave his consent toJohn's establishing a shelter in the yard. A corner was chosen, and anumber of casks were placed along by either wall; on these beams werelaid, for it happened that the tanner had intended, shortly before thesiege, to build a large shed, and had got the timber together for thepurpose. 

On the timber, bark from the now disused pits was heaped to a depth ofsome feet, which would effectually break the fall of any shell whichmight light upon it, and, along the front of this low triangularbuilding, two lines of sacks filled with tan were placed. These wouldsuffice to prevent any fragment of a shell, which might fall and burst inthe courtyard, from entering the shelter; save by the opening, about afoot deep, between the top of the sacks and the beams. 

When the whole was completed, John gathered the children there, and madeit their headquarters, and established himself as captain of the castle, as he called it. 

The elders entered warmly into his plans. It was a great relief, to them, to have the house cleared of the eighteen or twenty children. Theirmothers had no longer any anxiety for their safety, and the childrenthemselves looked upon it as great fun. There was plenty of air here, and, in a short time, John persuaded the parents to allow the children tosleep, as well as to pass the day, in the shelter. Here he told themstories, constructed toys for them, and kept them amused and quiet, appointing as his lieutenants three or four of the oldest of the girls, who had the little ones under their special charge. John was rewarded, for his pains, by seeing that the children kept their health far betterthan did those of their neighbours, and, up to the end of May, not one ofthem had succumbed, although several of the parents had already fallenvictims to dysentery and fever. 

Thus the month of May passed. With June, the hardships rapidly increased;but, on the 13th, shouts of joy were heard in the streets. John ran outto ascertain the cause, and learned that a fleet of thirty ships hadappeared in Lough Foyle, and was approaching the city. The inhabitants, frantic with joy, ran to the walls, and both sides suspended their fireto watch the approaching fleet. 

Suddenly, the ships were seen to turn and sail away. The people could notbelieve that they were deserted; but, when they saw that the fleet wasreally making off, curses and cries of lamentation and grief rose fromthe crowd. 

Why Major General Kirk, who commanded the force on board the ships, whichwere laden with provisions, did not attempt to sail up to Londonderry, which, as was afterwards proved, they could have done without difficulty, was never satisfactorily explained. The besiegers had erected two orthree small forts on the banks of the river, but these were quiteincapable of arresting the passage of the fleet, had it been commanded bya man of any resolution. Kirk anchored in Lough Swilly, and contentedhimself with sending messages to the town, to hold out to the last. 

A fresh search was now made for provisions, and parties of men enteredhouses which had been abandoned, or whose inmates had died, and dug upthe floors of the cellars. Several considerable deposits of grain werediscovered, and many inhabitants, moved by the intensity of the generalsuffering, voluntarily brought out hoards which they had hitherto keptsecret. 

Early in the siege, the water in the wells had become turbid and muddy, partly owing, it was thought, to the concussion of the ground by theconstant firing, partly by the extra supplies which were drawn from them. As the time went on, many of them dried altogether, and the water in theothers became so muddy that it had to be filtered through cloth orsacking, before it could be drunk. 

During fishing expeditions, previous to the commencement of the siege, John had more than once had a drink of water from the well of a peasant, living in a little hut near the river bank. This hut lay between theoutposts of the two parties, and had, at the commencement of the siege, been deserted by its owner. After the water became bad, John set outevery evening with a bucket, leaving the town just before the gates wereshut, and making straight down to the river. When it became dark, hecrawled along under the shelter of the banks, unperceived by the outpostsof either party, until close to the hut. Then he filled his bucket at thewell, and returned as he had come, lying down to sleep on the bank, wellin the rear of the Protestant outposts, until morning; when, as soon asthe gates were opened, he carried home the precious supply. 

It was this, as much as the light and air, which kept the children incomparative health; but, on the further diminution of rations which tookplace after Kirk's fleet retired, they began to fade rapidly. 

The horses had now been killed for food. The sufferings of the besiegedinhabitants became greater daily, and numbers died from sheer starvation. The little inhabitants of John Whitefoot's castle were mere skeletons. Most of their parents were dead, and a mournful silence pervaded thetown, save when the bells of the chapels called to prayer, or the yellsof the mob announced that the lower orders were breaking into houses insearch of food. 

John could stand the sight of the faces of the suffering children nolonger. He was himself faint and ill from hunger, for he had, each day, given a portion of his own scanty rations to the weakest of the children, and he determined to try and get them some food, or to die in theattempt. 

He set out at his usual hour in the evening. The tide was high, but justrunning out, and, entering the river, he floated down with the stream. Keeping close under the bank, he passed the batteries which the besiegershad erected there without notice, dived under the great boom which theyhad constructed across the river, directly Kirk's expedition had retired, and continued to float down to the mouth of the river, where he landedand boldly struck across the country, for he was now beyond the lines ofthe besiegers. He knew that his friend Walter was in the Royalist army, for one of the last mails which entered the city had told him that he wasto accompany his father, and that Captain Davenant's troop would mostlikely form part of any army that might march for the north. 

By the morning, his clothes had dried upon him, and he then boldlyentered the Royalist camp, mingling with the peasants who were bringingin provisions for sale. He soon learned where Captain Davenant's troopwas stationed, and made his way thither. He stood watching for some timeuntil he saw Walter come out of a tent, and he then approached him. Walter looked up, but did not recognize, in the thin and pallid ladbefore him, his former companion. 

"Do you want anything?" he asked. 

"Don't you know me, Walter?" John said. 

Walter started, and gazed at him earnestly. 

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed at last. "Why, it can't be John!"

"It is what remains of me, " John replied, with a faint smile. 

"Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, John?"

"I have been starving, in there, " John said, pointing to the city. 

"Come into the tent, John, " Walter said, grasping his friend's arm, andthen letting it fall again, with an exclamation of horror at itsthinness. "You needn't be afraid. My father is out--not that that wouldmake any difference. "

John entered the tent, and sat exhausted upon a box. Walter hastened toget some food, which he set before him, and poured out a large cup ofwine and water, and then stood, looking on in awed silence, while Johndevoured his meal. 

"I have wondered, a thousand times, " he said at last, when John hadfinished, "what you were doing in there, or whether you left before thesiege began. How did you get out?"

"I floated down the river to the mouth, beyond your lines, last night;and then worked round here. I thought I might find you. "

"Well, I am glad indeed that you are out, " Walter said. "Every time themortar sent a shell into the town, I was thinking of you, and wishingthat I could share meals with you, for, of course, we know that you aresuffering horribly in the town. "

"Horribly!" John repeated. "You can have no idea what it is, Walter, tosee children suffer. As for men, if it is the will of God, they must bearit, but it is awful for children. I have had eighteen of them under mycharge through the siege, and to see them getting thinner and weaker, every day, till the bones look as if they would come through the skin, and their eyes get bigger and bigger, and their voices weaker, is awful. At last I could stand it no longer, and I have come out to fetch somefood for them. "

"To fetch food!" Walter repeated. "Do you mean to say you are thinking ofgoing back again?"

"That I am, " John said. "I am going to take some food in to them. Youwill help me, won't you, Walter? It isn't for the men that fight, but forlittle children, who know nothing about King James, or King William, orthe Protestants, or the Catholics, but who are just God's creatures, andare dying of hunger. No one could grudge food to infants like these. "

"I will help you, of course, John, " Walter said, "if I can; but now, tellme all about it. "

John then gave an account of all he had been doing throughout the siege. 

"And now what have you been doing, Walter? Fighting?"

"No. I have not been doing any fighting, except that, once or twice, Iwas out with the troop, when they had a skirmish with your horsemen, butI kept in the rear. I hope, ere long, my father will let me enter, but heis waiting to see what comes of it. No. I have been idle enough. Well, ofcourse, I know all the officers in the cavalry now, and pretty nearly allthe officers in the camp, and then, with these constant skirmishes andattacks by your people and ours, there is always plenty to interest one. General Hamilton has been conducting the siege lately, but General Rosenreturned yesterday and took the command; but there's really not much todo. We know you cannot hold out much longer. "

"I don't know, " John said quietly. "I think that, as long as a man hasstrength enough to hold his arms, Derry will not surrender. When youmarch in, it will be to a city of dead people. We had such hopes when thefleet came. If the people could have caught Kirk, they would have tornhim in pieces. He had five thousand soldiers on board, and, if he hadlanded them, we could have sallied out and fought, instead of dying ofhunger. "

"Yes, " Walter agreed, "we should have retired at once. We have only sevenor eight thousand men here now, and if five thousand English soldiers hadlanded, we must have raised the siege at once. I can tell you that, though he is on the other side, I was almost as angry at Kirk's cowardiceas you must have been. I shall be glad when this awful business is over. I knew it was bad enough before, but after what you have told me aboutthe women and children, I shall never think of anything else, and I willgladly help you in any way I can. There can't be any treason in trying toprevent children from starving to death. What do you want me to do?"

"What would do the children more good than anything, the women say, wouldbe milk. If I could get a keg that would hold two or three gallons--and awatertight box with about twenty pounds of bread, I could swim back withthem just as I came. I would show you the exact spot where I landed, andwould come out again in four days. If you could put a supply ready forme, every fourth night, among the bushes at the mouth of the river, witha little lantern to show me the exact spot, I could come down with thetide, get the things, and float back again when the tide turns. "

"I could do that, easily enough, " Walter said. "The mouth of the river isquite beyond our lines. But it is very risky for you, John. You might getshot, if a sentry were to see you. "

"I do not think that there is much fear of that, " John said. "Justfloating along as I do, without swimming at all, there is only just myface above water, and it would be hardly possible for a sentry to see me;but if I were shot, I could not die in a better cause. "

"I think, John, if you don't mind, I should like to tell my father. I amquite sure he would not object, and, in case you should happen to getcaught, you could refer at once to him to prove that you were not a spy. They make very short work of spies. But if you were to demand to bebrought to Captain Davenant, and say you were acting in accordance withhis knowledge, no doubt they would bring you. "

"Do as you think best, Walter, but don't tell him, unless you feel almostsure that he will not object. "

"There is no fear of that, " Walter said. "He is constantly lamenting overthe sufferings of the people of Derry, and has, all along, been in favourof attempting to storm the place by force, so as to put a stop to allthis useless suffering. Now, John, you had better lie down on that strawbed of mine, and get a sleep. After that, you will be ready for anothermeal. I will tell Larry to go out among the market people, and buy threegallons of milk and twenty pounds of bread. There are plenty of smallspirit kegs about, which will do capitally for the milk, and I don'tthink that we can have anything better than one of them for the bread. Wecan head it up, and make it watertight. How do you mean to get into thetown? I should have thought that they were likely to be seized. "

"So they would be, " John said. "I shall hide them in some bushes at thefoot of the walls, at the side of the town facing the river. There areonly a few sentries there. Then, when it is light, I shall go in and tellmy cousin; and get him, after dark, to lower a rope from the wall. Ishall of course be below, to tie on the kegs. He can then walk with themboldly through the street to our house, which is only a short distancefrom that part of the walls. If anyone saw him, they would only supposehe was taking home water from one of the wells. "

John was soon fast asleep. Walter sat watching him until, two hourslater, his father returned with his troop. John still slept on, whileWalter told his father the errand on which he had come. 

"He is a brave lad, " Captain Davenant said, "and I honour him for hisconduct. It is not many men who, at a time like this, would risk theirlives for a number of children who are not any relation to them. Certainly, I will gladly assist him. I am sick at heart at all this. Myonly consolation is, that it is brought on solely by the acts of thesemen, who, though comparatively a handful, set themselves up against thevoice of all Ireland. If they had risen when an English army arrived totheir assistance, I should say nothing against it. As it is, withoutdoing any good to their cause, they are entailing this horrible sufferingupon thousands of women and children. 

"By all means, help the poor lad, and if he should fall into the hands ofour people, let him mention my name. Rosen would no doubt disapprove ofit, but I cannot help that. All the Irish gentlemen in the army wouldagree that I had done rightly, and, even if they didn't, my ownconscience would be quite sufficient for me to act upon. I am fightingagainst the king's enemies, not warring against women and children. 

"How soundly the poor lad sleeps, and how changed he is! He is a mereskeleton. I should not have known him in the least. If this is thecondition into which a strong, healthy lad has fallen, what must thewomen and children have suffered! I wish Kirk had not turned coward, buthad landed his troops. We could then have brought up our scatteredforces, and could have fought them in a fair field, with something likeequal forces. That would have been vastly more to my taste than starvingthem, like rats in a hole. "

Chapter 5: The Relief Of Derry. 

It was late in the afternoon before John woke. He started up, as his eyesfell upon Captain Davenant. 

"You have had a good sleep, and I hope you are all the better for it, "Captain Davenant said, kindly. "My son has been telling me all about yourexpedition, and I honour you very much, for the courage you have shown inthus risking your life to get food for those starving children. I quiteapprove of the promise Walter has given to assist you, and if you should, by any chance, be taken prisoner, I will stand your friend. "

John expressed his gratitude warmly. 

"It is a sad thing, in these civil wars, when friends are arrayed againstfriends, " Captain Davenant said. "Who would have thought, three monthsago, that you and Walter would be arrayed on opposite sides? It is trueyou are neither of you combatants, but I have no doubt you would gladlyhave joined in some of the sallies, just as Walter is eager to be ridingin my troop. If we must fight, I wish, at any rate, that it could be somanaged that all the suffering should fall upon the men who are willingto take up the sword, and not upon the women and children. My heartbleeds as I ride across the country. At one time, one comes upon a ruinedvillage, burned by the midnight ruffians who call themselves rapparees, and who are a disgrace to our cause. At another, upon a place sacked andruined by one of the bands of horsemen from Enniskillen, who are as crueland merciless as the rapparees. Let the armies fight out their quarrels, I say, but let peaceful people dwell in quiet and safety. But wholesaleatrocities have ever been the rule on both sides, in warfare in Ireland, and will, I suppose, remain so to the end. 

"And now, we are just going to have dinner, and another hearty meal willdo you good. Each night, when my son brings down the supplies for you, hewill bring a substantial meal of cold meat and bread, and you must giveme your promise, now, that you will eat this at once. You will need it, after being so long in the water, and having another swim before you, besides. Although I approve of sending in milk for the children, I can beno party to the supply of food for the garrison. Do you promise?"

"Yes, sir, I promise, " John said, "though I would rather save all but amouthful or two for the people who are starving at home. Still, ofcourse, if you insist upon it, I will promise. "

"I do insist upon it, John. The lives of these children of yours dependon your life, and even one good meal, every four days, will help you tokeep enough strength together to carry out the kind work you haveundertaken. "

Larry now brought in the dinner. He had been told by Walter of John'sarrival, but he otherwise would have failed to recognize, in him, the boywho had sometimes come down to the village with Walter. 

"Are you quite well, Larry?" John asked him. 

"I am, " Larry replied; "but I need not ask the same question of yourself, for you are nothing but skin and bone, entirely. Dear, dear, I wouldn'thave known you at all, at all, and such a foine colour as ye used tohave. "

"I don't think starving would suit you, Larry, " Captain Davenant saidwith a smile. 

"Sure an' it wouldn't, yer honour. It's always ready to eat I am, though, as mother says, the victuals don't seem to do me much good, anyway. "

"You won't be able to come out and go back again the same night nextweek, John, " Captain Davenant said, presently. "The tide won't suit, soyou must come up here, as you have done today. You will always find ahearty welcome, and Walter shall go down and meet you early in themorning, near the mouth of the river, so you can come up with him; andthen, if you fall in with any of the other parties, no questions will beasked. I think everyone in camp knows him now. 

"I wonder what your grandfather would say, if he saw you sitting here atdinner with Walter and me?"

John laughed. 

"I am afraid he would disown me, then and there, without listening toexplanations. "

"I have no doubt it's a sore grievance to him that he is not in Derry, atpresent, " Captain Davenant said. 

"I am sure it is, " John replied; "but the fasting would be a great trialto him. My grandfather is a capital trencherman. Still, I am sure hewould have borne his part. "

"That he would, " Captain Davenant agreed. "He and the men of his classare thorough, fanatics as I consider them. Hard and pitiless as theyproved themselves, to those against whom they fought, one cannot butadmire them, for they were heart and soul in their cause. There was noflinching, no half measures, no concessions for the sake of expediency. On the ground on which they took their stand, they conquered or died. Would that a like spirit animated all my countrymen!"

After nightfall, Larry brought round Walter's horse, saddled, and his ownrough pony. Walter mounted the former, and John the latter. The two kegswere slung across Walter's horse. 

"Will you meet me at the clump of trees, half a mile out of camp, Larry?"Walter said. "In the dark, no one will notice the difference between youand John. "

Captain Davenant had furnished Walter with a password, and now walkedbeside the two boys till they were well beyond the camp, and thenreturned to his tent. The lads made their way, without meeting withanyone, down to the mouth of the river. The kegs were then taken off thehorse and placed in the water--they floated just above the surface. 

"That is exactly right, " John said. "They will not show any more thanwill my face. When I come down next time, I shall fill them with water, so as to keep them just at this level. "

"I am afraid the moon will be up next time, John. "

"Yes, it will. I shall lay some boughs of bush across my face and thekegs, so that there will be no fear of my face showing; and if a sentryshould happen to catch sight of it, he will suppose that it is merely abush drifting in the stream. "

"Well, goodbye, John, and may you get through without trouble. "

"I have no fear, Walter. I am in God's hands, and He will take me safelythrough, if He thinks fit. "

The journey was achieved without detection, the only difficulty being thesinking of the kegs under the boom; this, however, was successfullyaccomplished, and by midnight, the kegs were safely hidden in some bushesat the foot of the wall, and there John lay down and waited for morning. 

As he entered the yard, the children ran out to meet him. There were noloud rejoicings; they had no longer strength or spirit to shout andlaugh; but the joy in the thin worn faces was more eloquent than anywords could have been. 

"We have missed you so, John. We have wanted you so much. Lucy and Kateand Deby were so bad yesterday, and they did cry so for you. We were allso hungry. We don't mind so much, when you are here to talk to us andtell us stories. Why did you stop away, John, when we wanted you so?"

"I went away to see if I could manage to get you something to eat. "

"And did you?" was the anxious cry. 

"I have got a little; but you must wait till evening, and then you willeach have--" and he stopped. 

"What, John? Oh, do tell us!"

"You will each have some milk and bread. 

"Not much, dears, " he went on, as there was a cry of gladness, which waspitiful from the intensity of joy it expressed, "but there will be somefor tonight, and a little curds and whey and bread for you tomorrow andnext day, and I hope always, as long as this lasts. Now go, dears, intoyour castle. I will come to you presently. I have brought you some water, as usual. "

"I am heartily glad to see you back, John, " his cousin said, as heentered the house. "The children were in a sad state without you, yesterday. I suppose you can tell me, now, what you have been doing. Youtold me you would be away two nights, and begged me not to ask anyquestions; but, although I know you to be discreet and prudent, I havebeen worrying. "

"I will tell you now, " John said, and he recounted the details of theexpedition which he had accomplished. 

"And you have swum the river twice, and been in the camp of the Papists. Truly it is surprising, John, and I know not what to do. Should yourvisit there be discovered, you will assuredly be accused of treachery. "

"They may accuse me of what they like, " John said quietly. "I have doneit, and I am going to do it again, every fourth night, and there is themilk and bread at the foot of the wall, ready for you to haul up as soonas it gets dark. "

"It ought to be fairly divided, " the tanner said. 

"It will be fairly divided, between our children, " John said; "but nobodyelse will get a drop or a crumb. I have risked my life to get it forthem. If other people want to get it, let them do the same. Besides, as Itold you, Captain Davenant and his son both procured it for me for thesake of the children, and them only, and I should be breaking faith withthem if any others touched it, save those for whom it was given me. It islittle enough among eighteen children for four days--a pound of bread anda little over a pint of milk, each. They must each have a quarter of apint, when you bring it in tonight, and the rest had better be curdled. That way it will keep, and they can have a portion each day of curds andwhey, and a fourth share of their bread. It is little enough; but I trustthat it may keep life in them. "

"Well, John, I will do as you say, " the tanner said, after a pause. "Itgoes somewhat against my conscience; but, as you say, it will make but ameagre portion for each of them, and would be nothing were it fairlydivided; besides, you have brought it with the risk of your life, and Iknow not that any save you have a right to a voice in its partition. "

Before the gates were closed, John went out, and presently had thesatisfaction of hearing a small stone drop from the wall above him, followed presently by the end of a rope. He sent up the kegs, and thenlay down among the bushes, and enjoyed the satisfaction of thinking ofthe joy of the little ones, when the milk and bread were served out tothem. As soon as the gates were open in the morning, he went in. 

"Thank you, oh, so much, for the milk and bread last night. We heard howyou had swum so far, and gone into danger to get it for us, and we'regoing to have some more for breakfast. "

"It was not much, dears, " John said. 

"Oh, no, it was not much; but it was so nice, and we did all sleep sowell last night--even little Lucy didn't waken and cry once--and RuthHardy said we ought to call you the Raven; but we don't like that namefor you. "

"The Raven, Ruth!" John said, mystified. "Why did you want to call me theRaven?"

"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it, dear John; but you know thatchapter that Master Williams read us, the other day, about the ravensthat fed somebody in a cave, and we have been wishing the ravens wouldfeed us; and so you see, when you sent us the milk last night, I thoughtyou ought to be called the Raven. I did not mean any harm. "

"No, my dear, of course not, and you can all call me the Raven, if youlike. "

"No, no, John. You are John, and that's much better than the Raven. Theybrought the man food, but they didn't nurse him and tell him stories, asyou do. "

"Now, run inside the castle, " John said, "and I will go in and get yourbreakfasts. "

John soon returned, with a great bowl of curds and whey, a platter piledup with slices of bread and a score of little mugs, and the feast began. Scarce a word was said while the children were eating. Their hunger wastoo keen, and their enjoyment too intense, to admit of speech. When eachhad finished their portion, there was a general exclamation. 

"Oh, John, you haven't had any. Why didn't you have some, too?"

"Because there is only enough for you, " he said. "If I were to have some, and Cousin Josiah, and all the others, there would be a very little sharefor you; besides, when I went out the day before yesterday, I had as muchas I could eat. "

"Oh, dear, that must have been nice, " one of the boys said. "Only think, having as much as one can eat. Oh, how much I could eat, if I had it!"

"And yet I daresay, Tom, " John said, "that sometimes, before you camehere, when you had as much as you could eat, you used to grumble if itwasn't quite what you fancied. "

"I shall never grumble again, " the boy said positively. "I shall bequite, quite content with potatoes, if I can but get enough of them. "

"The good times will come again, " John said cheerily. "Now we will have astory. Which shall it be?"

As the children sat round him, John was delighted to see that even thetwo scanty meals they had had, had done wonders for them. The listless, hopeless look of the last few days had disappeared, and occasionallysomething like a hearty laugh broke out among them, and an hour later thetanner came to the entrance. 

"Come to the walls with me, John. "

"What is it? What is the matter?" John said, as he saw the look of angerand indignation on the wasted features of his cousin. 

"Come and see for yourself, " the latter said. 

When they reached the walls, they found them crowded with theinhabitants. Outside were a multitude of women, children, and old men. These General Rosen, with a refinement of cruelty, had swept in from thecountry round and driven under the walls, where they were left to starve, unless the garrison would take them in, and divide their scanty supply offood with them. 

"It is monstrous, " John cried, when he understood the meaning of thesight. "What are we to do?"

"We can do nothing, " the tanner replied. "The council have met, and havedetermined to keep the gates closed. We are dying for the cause. Theymust do so too; and they will not die in vain, for all Europe will cryout when they hear of this dastardly act of cruelty. "

The people outside were animated by a spirit as stern as that of thebesieged, and the women cried out, to those on the walls, to keep thegates shut and to resist to the last, and not to heed them. 

The ministers went out through the gates, and held services among thecrowd, and the people on the walls joined in the hymns that were sungbelow. So, for three days and nights, the people within and withoutfasted and prayed. On the third day, a messenger arrived from King Jamesat Dublin, ordering General Rosen at once to let the people depart. 

The indignation, among the Irish gentlemen in the camp, at Rosen's brutalorder had been unbounded, and messenger after messenger had been sent toDublin, where the news excited a burst of indignation, and James at oncecountermanded the order of the general. The gates were opened now, andthe people flocked out and exchanged greetings with their friends. A fewable-bodied men in the crowd entered the town, to share in its defence, while a considerable number of the women and children from within mingledwith them, and moved away through the lines of the besiegers. 

John had, the day before, gone out when the gates were opened for thepreachers, and at night had again safely made the passage to the mouth ofthe river and back. He found the lantern burning among the bushes, andtwo kegs placed beside it, with a bountiful meal of bread and meat forhimself. 

So the days went on, each day lessening the number of the inhabitants ofthe town. Fever and famine were making terrible ravages, and thesurvivors moved about the streets like living skeletons, so feeble andweak, now, that they could scarce bear the weight of their arms. 

On the 30th of July, three ships were seen approaching the mouth of theriver. They were part of Kirk's squadron, which had all this time beenlying idle, almost within sight of the town. The news of his conduct hadexcited such anger and indignation in England that, at last, in obedienceto peremptory orders from London, he prepared to make the attempt;although, by sending only two store ships and one frigate, it wouldalmost seem as if he had determined that it should be a failure. 

The besiegers as well as the besieged saw the three ships advancing, andthe former moved down to the shore, to repel the attempt. The batterieson either side of the boom were manned, and from them, and from theinfantry gathered on the banks, a heavy fire was opened as the shipsapproached. 

So innocuous was the fire of the artillery, that it has been supposedthat Kirk had previously bribed the officers commanding the forts. At anyrate, the ships suffered no material damage, and, returning the fire, advanced against the boom. The leading store ship dashed against it andbroke it, but the ship swerved from her course with the shock, and struckthe ground. A shout of dismay burst from those on the walls, and one ofexultation from the besiegers, who rushed down to board the vessel. 

Her captain, however, pointed all his guns forward, and discharged themall at the same moment, and the recoil shook the vessel from her hold onthe ground, and she floated off, and pursued her way up the river, followed by her consorts. 

The delay of Kirk had cost the defenders of Londonderry more than halftheir number. The fighting men had, either by disease, famine, or in thefield, lost some five thousand, while of the non-combatants seventhousand had died. The joy and exultation in the city, as the two storeships ranged up under its walls, were unbounded. Provisions were speedilyconveyed on shore, and abundance took the place of famine. 

Five days later, General Rosen raised the siege and marched away with hisarmy, which had, in the various operations of the siege, and from theeffect of disease, lost upwards of three thousand men. 

"This has been a bad beginning, Walter, " Captain Davenant said, as theyrode away from the grounds on which they had been so long encamped. "Ifthe whole force of Ireland does not suffice to take a single town, theprospect of our waging war successfully against England is not hopeful. "

"It seems to me that it would have been much better to have left Derryalone, father, " Walter said. 

"It would have been better, as it has turned out, Walter; but had theking taken the place, as he expected, without difficulty, he would havecrossed with a portion of the army to Scotland, where a considerable partof the population would at once have joined him. The defence of Derry hasentirely thwarted that plan, and I fear now that it will never be carriedout. 

"However, it has had the advantage of making soldiers out of an army ofpeasants. When we came here, officers and men were alike ignorant ofeverything relating to war. Now we have, at any rate, learned a certainamount of drill and discipline, and I think we shall give a much betteraccount of ourselves, in the open field, than we have done in front of astrong town which we had no means whatever of storming. Still, it hasbeen a frightful waste of life on both sides, and with no result, beyondhorribly embittering the feeling of hatred, which unfortunately prevailedbefore, between the Catholic and Protestant populations. "

The mortification and disgust, caused by the failure of Londonderry, wasincreased by a severe defeat of a force under General Justin McCarthy, Lord Mountcashel, at Newtown Butler, on the very day that Derry wasrelieved. General McCarthy had been detached, with a corps of sixthousand men, against the Enniskilleners. He came up with them nearNewtown Butler. Although but two thousand strong, the Enniskilleners, whowere commanded by Colonel Wolseley, an English officer, at once attackedthe Irish, only a portion of whom had come upon the ground. 

McCarthy, who was a brave and experienced officer, sent orders to thecavalry to face to the right, and march to the support of the wing thatwas attacked. The officer gave the order "right--about face, " and thecavalry turned and trotted towards the rear. The infantry, believing thatthey were deserted by the horse, at once lost heart and fell intoconfusion. 

McCarthy, while endeavouring to remedy the disorder, was wounded andtaken prisoner, and the flight became general. The Enniskilleners pursuedwith savage fury, and during the evening, the whole of the night, and thegreater part of the next day, hunted the fugitives down in the bogs andwoods, and slew them in cold blood. Five hundred of the Irish threwthemselves into Lough Erne, rather than face death at the hands of theirsavage enemies, and only one of the number saved himself by swimming. 

After leaving Derry, the army returned to Dublin, where the parliamentwhich James had summoned was then sitting. Most of the soldiers werequartered on the citizens; but, as the pressure was very great, CaptainDavenant easily obtained leave for his troop to go out to Bray, wherethey were within a very short distance of his own house. 

The day after his return home, Walter went over to give Jabez Whitefootand his wife news of John, from whom they had heard nothing, since afortnight before the siege had begun. 

"Your son is alive and well, " were his first words. "He has been allthrough the siege of Derry, and has behaved like a hero. "

"The Lord be praised!" Jabez said, while his wife burst into tears ofrelief, for she had gone through terrible anxiety during the long weeksthat Derry had been suffering from starvation. 

"But how do you know, Master Walter?" Jabez asked. "Seeing that you wereon the side of the besiegers, how could you tell what was passing on theinside of the walls? How do you know John is alive?"

"Because I saw him first, a month before the end of the siege, andbecause he came regularly afterwards, to fetch away some provisions whichI had placed for him. "

And Walter then gave a full account of John's visit to the camp, insearch of food for the children who were sheltered in the tanner's house. 

"That is just like John, " his mother said. "He was ever thoughtful forothers. I am more pleased, a hundred times, that he should have so riskedhis life to obtain food for the little ones, than if he had taken part inthe fighting and proved himself a very champion of Derry. "

Parliament had met on the 7th of May. The session had been opened by aspeech from the throne, in which the king commended the loyalty of hisIrish subjects, declared his intention to make no difference betweenCatholics and Protestants, and that loyalty and good conduct should bethe only passport to his favour. He stated his earnest wish that good andwholesome laws should be enacted, for the encouragement of trade and ofthe manufactures of the country, and for the relief of such as hadsuffered injustice by the Act of Settlement; that is, the act by whichthe lands of the Catholics had been handed over, wholesale, to Cromwell'ssoldiers and other Protestants. 

Bills were speedily passed, abolishing the jurisdiction of English courtsof law and of the English parliament in Ireland, and other bills werepassed for the regulation of commerce and the promotion of shipbuilding. The bill for the repeal of the Act of Settlement was brought up on the22d of May. It was opposed only by the Protestant bishops and peers, andbecame law on the 11th of June. Acts of attainder were speedily passedagainst some two thousand Protestant landed proprietors, all of whom hadobtained their lands by the settlement of Cromwell. 

A land tax was voted to the king, of twenty thousand pounds a month, andhe proceeded to raise other levies by his private authority. The resultwas that the resources of Ireland were speedily exhausted, money almostdisappeared, and James, being at his wits' end for funds, issued coppermoney stamped with the value of gold and silver; and a law was passedmaking this base money legal tender, promising that, at the end of thewar, it should be exchanged for sterling money. 

This was a measure which inflicted enormous loss and damage. At first, the people raised the prices of goods in proportion to the decrease inthe value of the money, but James stopped this, by issuing a proclamationfixing the prices at which all articles were to be sold; and having donethis, proceeded to buy up great quantities of hides, butter, corn, wood, and other goods, paying for them all with a few pounds of copper and tin, and then shipping them to France, where they were sold on his ownaccount. It need hardly be said that conduct of this kind speedilyexcited great dissatisfaction, even among those who were most loyal inhis cause. 

Captain Davenant was shocked at the state of things he found prevailingin Dublin. 

"I regret bitterly, " he said, when alone with his wife and mother, "thatI have taken up the sword. Success appears to me to be hopeless. Thefolly of the Stuarts is incredible. They would ruin the best cause in theworld. With a spark of wisdom and firmness, James might have united allIreland in his cause, instead of which he has absolutely forced theProtestants into hostility. His folly is only equalled by his rapacity, and both are stupendous. "

This was said, one evening, when he had just returned from a visit toDublin, depressed and disheartened by all he heard there. 

"I am astonished, Fergus, " his mother said sharply, "to hear you speak inthat way. Who would have thought that it was a Davenant who was speaking!Doubtless there have been mistakes, as was only natural, but everythingwill come right, in time. I have been longing for you to come home, looking forward with such joy to welcome you as the possessor of thebroad lands of the Davenants. Thank God I have lived to see therestoration of my dear husband's lands, and the discomfiture of thoseCromwellian knaves, who have so long possessed them. It was a grand daywhen the act was passed, repealing all Cromwell's grants handing over thebest part of Ireland to his soldiers; and I saw in the Gazette, among thetwo thousand grants specially mentioned as cancelled, was that of theDavenant estate to Zephaniah Whitefoot. I am told that the old man andhis son have taken no notice of the act, but go about their work as ifthey were still the owners of the land; but of course, now that you areback, there will soon be an end of this. "

Captain Davenant was silent. 

"I shall be in no hurry, mother, " he said, after a pause. "It is truethat an act of the Irish parliament has cancelled the iniquitous work ofCromwell, and restored the land to its rightful possessors. I do not saythat this is not just, but I am quite sure that it is not politic. Thesemen have been planted on the soil for two generations. They have builthouses and tilled the fields, and made homes for themselves. It wasessentially a case for arrangement, and not for setting right the firstact of confiscation by another as sweeping. It has rendered theProtestants desperate. It has enlisted the sympathy of the Protestants ofEngland in their behalf, and has done much to popularize the war there. It would have been vastly wiser, had a commission been ordered to examineinto the circumstances of each case. 

"In the great proportion of cases, the estates which the Cromwellitestook possession of were vastly larger than they were able to tillthemselves; and, as in the case of Zephaniah Whitefoot, they let out thegreater portion to tenants. All these lands I would have restored totheir former owners, leaving to the Cromwellites the land they tillthemselves, and the houses they have built upon it. 

"As to turning the Whitefoots out, I shall certainly take no step thatway, at present. It will be time enough to do so, when King James isfirmly established on the throne. As things go at present, I have butvery faint hopes that will ever be. He has utterly failed to conquer theProtestants of the north of Ireland, and we have all the strength ofEngland to cope with, yet. It will be well, mother, if, at the end ofthis strife, we can keep Davenant Castle over our heads, with the fewacres that still remain to us. "

Two days afterwards, Captain Davenant mounted his horse and rode over tothe Whitefoots. Zephaniah and Jabez came to the door. 

"I suppose you have come over to turn us out, Fergus Davenant, " the oldman said; "but I warn you, that it will not be for long. The triumph ofthe ungodly is short, and the Lord will care for his own people. "

"You are mistaken, " Captain Davenant said quietly. "I have come over forno such purpose. I am, of course, aware that parliament has passed a law, reinstating me in my father's lands; but I came over to tell you that, atpresent, I do not propose to take advantage of that law. I shall donothing, until this war is at an end. If King William's cause triumphs, the act will remain a dead letter. If King James's wins, and the act isupheld, I wish to tell you that I shall never disturb you in the landwhich you, yourselves, occupy. Your tenants, on the other hand, will bemy tenants; but in the house which you have built, and in the fieldswhich you have tilled, you will remain masters. 

"I have thought the matter over, and this appears to me to be a justsettlement, and one which I give you my word that I will hold to, shouldKing James triumph in the end. I think that the law turning out theProtestant settlers, from the land which they have held for forty years, is well nigh as unjust as that which gave it to them. "

"I will take no gifts at the hands of the wicked, " Zephaniah began, butJabez interrupted him. 

"Hush, father!" he said. "It is not thus that kindness should be met. "

Then he stepped forward, leaving his father too surprised, at this suddenassumption of command on the part of his son, to interrupt him. 

"Captain Davenant, " he said, "I thank you most sincerely, on the part ofmyself, my wife and son, and, I may say, of my father, too, although atpresent he may not realize the kindness of your offer. I do not think itlikely that, if James Stuart prevails, and Ireland is rent from England, we shall avail ourselves of your offer, for we have more than sufficientof this world's goods to remove to England, and there settle ourselvesand our son, for assuredly Ireland would be no place where a Protestantcould dwell in peace and quietness. Nevertheless, I thank you heartily, and shall ever gratefully bear in mind the promise you have made, and thefact that, although you have the power to turn us from our home, you havestayed from doing so. There has been much wrong done on both sides; and, from a boy, when I have seen you ride into or from your home, I have feltthat I and mine wronged you, by being the possessors of your father'slands. "

"They were the spoil of battle, " Zephaniah broke in fiercely. 

"Yes, they were the spoil of battle, " his son repeated; "but there arelimits, even to the rights of conquerors. I have read history, and I knowthat nowhere but in Ireland did conquerors ever dispossess whole peoples, and take possession of their lands. "

"The Israelites took the land of Canaan, " Zephaniah interrupted. 

"I am speaking of modern wars, father. For centuries, no such act ofwholesale spoliation was ever perpetrated; and considering, as I do, thatthe act was an iniquitous one, although we have benefited by it, Iconsider the offer which Captain Davenant has made to us to be a nobleone. 

"I have to thank you, sir, also, for your kindness to my son--a kindnesswhich doubtless saved his life, as well as that of many others inLondonderry; and believe me that, whatever comes of this horrible war, Iand mine will never forget the kindnesses we have received at yourhands. "

"The affair was my son's, rather than mine, " Captain Davenant said; "butI was glad to be able to assist him in aiding your brave boy. He is anoble fellow, and you have every reason to be proud of him. "

"I must add my thanks to those of my husband, " Hannah said, coming outfrom the house, having listened to the conversation through an openwindow. "We had suffered so, until your son brought us news of John, twodays since. It is strange, indeed, that your son should have been themeans of saving one of a household whom he cannot but have learnt toregard as the usurpers of his father's rights. It was but last night Iwas reading of Jonathan and David, and it seemed to me that, assuredly, the same spirit that they felt for each other was in our sons. "

"The boys are very fond of each other, Mrs. Whitefoot, and I am glad ofit. They are both manly fellows, and there is no reason why the feuds ofthe fathers should descend to the children. "

With a cordial goodbye, Captain Davenant rode off. 

"Jabez, " Zephaniah said, as they turned into the house, "I had notthought to hear a son of mine rise in rebellion against his father. "

"Father, " Jabez said, "for forty-five years I have been a good son toyou; but it is time that I took my stand. It seems to me that theprinciples upon which the soldiers of Cromwell fought, were theprinciples which animated the Israelites of old. Exodus, Judges, andKings were the groundwork of their religion, not the Gospels. It hasgradually been borne upon me that such is not the religion of the NewTestament, and, while I seek in no way to dispute your right to think asyou choose, I say the time has come when I and my wife will act upon ourprinciples. "

"It is written, Honour thy father and thy mother, " Zephaniah saidsternly. 

"Ay, father, I have honoured you, and I shall honour you to the end; buta man has no right to give up his conscience to his father; for it iswritten, also, that a man shall leave father and mother, and wife andhome to follow the Lord. I have heard you, father, and the elders of ourchurch, quote abundant texts from Scripture, but never one, that I canrecall, from the New Testament. Hitherto, I have been as an Israelite ofJoshua's time. Henceforward, I hope to be a Christian. I grieve to angeryou, father, and for years I have held my peace rather than do so; butthe time has come when the spirit within me will no longer permit me tohold my peace. In all worldly matters, I am still your obedient son, ready to labour to my utmost to gather up wealth which I do not enjoy, tolive a life as hard as that of the poorest tenant on our lands; but, astouching higher matters, I and my wife go our own way. "

Without a word, Zephaniah took his hat and strode away from the house, and, after much angry communing with himself, went to the minister anddeacons of his chapel, and laid the facts of the rebellion before them, and asked their advice. 

They were in favour of peace, for two of them were his tenants, and theyknew that the time could not be very far off when Jabez would take theold man's place, and it would be a serious matter, indeed, to the chapel, were he to be driven from its fold. 

"We cannot expect that all shall see with our eyes, Zephaniah, " theminister said, "and, indeed, the offer, which thou sayest the manDavenant made, was a generous one. It would be well, indeed, for ourbrethren throughout Ireland, did all the original owners of their landsso treat them. Thousands who, but a few months since, were prosperousmen, are now without a shelter wherein to lay their heads. The storm issweeping over us, the elect are everywhere smitten, and, should JamesStuart conquer, not a Protestant in Ireland but must leave its shores. Therefore, although I would counsel no giving up of principle, noabandonment of faith, yet I would say that this is no time for theenforcement of our views upon weak vessels. I mourn that your son should, for the time, have fallen away from your high standard, but I say it werebest to be patient with him. "

At home, there were few words spoken after Zephaniah had gone out. Hannahhad thrown her arms round her husband's neck, and had said:

"I thank God for your words, Jabez. Now I am proud of you, as I havenever been proud before, that you have boldly spoken out for liberty ofconscience. I feel like one who has for many years been a slave, but whois, at last, free. "

Jabez kissed her, but was silent. To him, it had been a great trial torebel. He knew that he was right, and would have done it again, ifnecessary; but it was a terrible thing to him to have openly withstoodthe father to whom he had, from childhood, rendered almost implicitobedience. 

On his return, Zephaniah did not renew the subject; but from that time, there was a great change in the moral atmosphere of the house. Zephaniahwas still master in all matters of daily work; but in other respects, Jabez had completely emancipated himself. 

Chapter 6: Dundalk. 

After the failure before Derry, the utmost confusion prevailed in themilitary councils, arising chiefly from the jealousies and conflictingauthorities of the French and Irish commanders. James was entirely underthe control of the French ambassador, who, together with all hiscountrymen in Ireland, affected to despise the Irish as a rude anduncivilized people; while the Irish, in turn, hated the French for theirarrogance and insolence. Many of the Irish gentlemen, who had raisedregiments at their private expense, were superseded to make room forFrenchmen, appointed by the influence of the French ambassador. Thesegentlemen returned home in disgust, and were soon followed by their men, who were equally discontented at being handed over to the command offoreigners, instead of their native leaders. 

Every day, the breach widened between the French and Irish, and thediscontent caused by the king's exactions was wide and general; and ifWilliam, at this time, had offered favourable terms to the Catholics, itis probable that an arrangement could have been arrived at. 

But William was busily at work, preparing an army for the conquest of thecountry. Had Ireland stood alone, it is probable that England would, atany rate for a time, have suffered it to go its own way; but its closealliance with France, and the fact that French influence was all powerfulwith James, rendered it impossible for England to submit to theestablishment of what would be a foreign and hostile power, so close toher shores. Besides, if Ireland remained under the dominion of James, thepower of William on the throne of England could never have beenconsolidated. 

Although he had met with no resistance on his assumption of the throne, he had the hearty support of but a mere fraction of the English people, and his accession was the work of a few great Whig families, only. Hisrule was by no means popular, and his Dutch favourites were as muchdisliked, in England, as were James' French adherents in Ireland. 

In Scotland, the Jacobite party were numerous and powerful, and were inopen rebellion to his authority. Thus, then, if William's position on thethrone of England was to be consolidated, it was necessary that a blowshould be struck in Ireland. 

Torn by dissension, without plan or leading, the Irish army remained, formonths, inactive; most of the regiments having, after the northerncampaign, returned to the districts in which they were raised; and thus, no preparation was made to meet the army which was preparing to invadethe country. 

This, ten thousand strong, under the command of General Schomberg, who, although eighty years of age, was still an able, active, and spiritedcommander, embarked on the 8th of August at Chester, and on the 13thlanded near Bangor, in Carrickfergus Bay. There was no force there ofsufficient strength to oppose him. 

Schomberg found Antrim and Belfast deserted; but the garrison atCarrickfergus, consisting of two regiments, prepared vigorously for asiege. Schomberg at once prepared to invest it, and in a short timeattacked it by land and sea. The siege was pressed with vigour, but thegarrison, under M'Carty Moore, defended themselves with the greatestskill and bravery. As fast as breaches were battered in their walls, theyrepaired them, and repulsed every attempt of the besiegers to gain afooting in the town. The garrison were badly supplied with ammunition, but they stripped the lead from the roofs of the castle and church tomake bullets. 

But all this time, no attempt whatever was made to relieve them. TheFrench and Irish generals were disputing as to what was the best plan ofcampaign. The king was busy making money with his trade with France; and, after holding out until they had burned their last grain of powder, thegallant garrison were forced to capitulate. Schomberg was too glad to getthe place to insist on hard terms, and the garrison marched out with allthe honours of war--drums beating, and matches alight--and were conveyed, with all their stores, arms, and public and private property, to thenearest Irish post. 

The effect of this determined resistance, on the part of the littlegarrison at Carrickfergus, was to impress Schomberg with the fact thatthe difficulty of the task he had undertaken was vastly greater than hehad supposed. The success with which Londonderry had defended itselfagainst the Irish army had impressed him with the idea that the levies ofKing James were simply contemptible; but the fighting qualities of thegarrison of Carrickfergus had shown him that they were a foe by no meansto be despised, and convinced him that the force at his command wasaltogether inadequate to his necessities. 

He therefore moved south with extreme caution. He found the countryaltogether wasted and deserted. The Protestants had long since fled, andwere gathered round Derry and Enniskillen. The Catholics had now desertedtheir homes, at his approach; and the troops, in their retreat, hadburned and wasted everything, so that he had no means of subsistence forhis army, and was obliged to rely upon the fleet, which he ordered tofollow him down the coast. 

Schomberg was soon joined by three regiments of Enniskillen horse. Theappearance of these troops astonished the English. They resembled rathera horde of Italian banditti than a body of European cavalry. Theyobserved little order in their military movements, and no uniformity ofdress or accoutrement. Each man was armed and clad according to his ownfancy, and accompanied by a mounted servant, carrying his baggage. But, like the Cossacks, whom they closely resembled, they were distinguishedby an extreme rapidity of movement, and a fierceness and contempt of alldifficulty and danger. They calculated neither chances nor numbers, butrushed to the attack of any foe with a ferocity and fanaticism whichalmost ensured success, and they regarded the slaughter of a Papist as anacceptable service to the Lord. They plundered wherever they went, andwere a scourge to the Irish Protestants as well as Catholics. 

The troops furnished by Derry were similar in character to those fromEnniskillen. They could not endure the restraints of discipline, and werelittle use in acting with the regular army, and, like the Cossacks, wereformidable only when acting by themselves. Schomberg and his successor, and, indeed, the whole of the English officers, soon came to abhor thesesavage and undisciplined allies. 

Still, the Irish army made no move. Report had magnified Schomberg'sstrength to more than twice its real numbers, and the military leaderscould not believe that, after so many months of preparation, William haddespatched so small an army for the conquest of Ireland. 

Confusion and dismay reigned in Dublin. The French Marshal, De Rosen, advised that Dublin and Drogheda should be abandoned, and that the Irisharmy should be concentrated at Athlone and Limerick; but Tyrconnell wentto Drogheda, where the council of war was sitting, and strenuouslyopposed this, promising that by the next night twenty thousand men shouldbe assembled there. Expresses were sent out in all directions; and byforced marches, the Irish troops stationed in Munster directed theircourse to Drogheda, in high spirits and anxious to meet the enemy. 

Schomberg, although he had been reinforced by six thousand men fromEngland, fell back at the news of the gathering, and formed an intrenchedcamp in a strong position between Dundalk and the sea. His approacheswere covered by mountains, rivers, and morasses; his communication wasopen to the sea, and here he resolved to wait for reinforcements. 

Captain Davenant became more and more despondent as to the cause in whichhe had embarked. 

"Without the king, and without his French allies, " he said bitterly tohis wife, "we might hope for success; but these are enough to ruin anycause. Were the king's object to excite discontent and disgust among hissubjects, he could not act otherwise than he is now doing. His wholethoughts are devoted to wringing money out of the people, and any time hehas to spare is spent upon superintending the building of the nunneries, in which he is so interested. As to the French, they paralyse allmilitary operations. They regard us as an inferior race, and act as if, with their own five or six thousand troops, they could defeat all thepower of England. It is heartbreaking seeing our chances so wasted. 

"Had advantage been taken of the enthusiasm excited when King Jameslanded; had he himself been wise and prudent, disinterested for himself, and desirous of obtaining the affections of all classes; and had hebrought with him none of these French adventurers, he would, long erethis, have been undisputed King of Ireland from end to end, and we shouldhave stood as one people in arms, ready to oppose ourselves to any forcethat England could send against us. Never were chances so frittered away, never such a succession of blunders and folly. It is enough to breakone's heart. "

"I do hope, father, that when the troop marches again you will take me ascornet. I am six months older than I was, and have learned a lot in thelast campaign. You have not filled up the place of Cornet O'Driscoll. Idid think, when he was killed in that last fight you had before Derry, you would have appointed me. "

"In some respects I am less inclined than ever, Walter, " Captain Davenantsaid; "for I begin to regard success as hopeless. "

"It will make no difference, father, in that way, for if we are beatenthey are sure to hand all our land over to the Protestants. Besides, things may turn out better than you think; and whether or no, I shouldcertainly like to do my best for Ireland. "

"Well, we will think about it, " Captain Davenant said; and Walter wassatisfied, for he felt sure that his father would finally accede to hiswishes. 

It was late at night, when the mounted messenger dashed up to the door ofthe castle and handed in an order. Captain Davenant opened it. 

"We are to march, in half an hour's time, to Drogheda. The whole army isto assemble there. "

"Hurray!" Walter shouted. "Something is going to be done, at last. "

A man was sent down to the village at once, to order the twenty menquartered there to saddle and mount instantly, and ride up to the castle;while another, on horseback, started for Bray to get the main body underarms. Mrs. Davenant busied herself in packing the wallets of her husbandand son. She was very pale, but she said little. 

"God bless you both, " she said, when all was finished, "and bring youback again safely. I won't ask you to take care of yourselves, because, of course, you must do your duty, and with all my love I should not wishyou to draw back from that. When home and religion and country are atstake, even we women could not wish to keep those we love beside us. "

There was a last embrace, and then Captain Davenant and his son sprang ontheir horses, which were waiting at the door, took their place at thehead of the party which had come up from the village, and rode away intothe darkness, while the two Mrs. Davenants gave free vent to the tearswhich they had hitherto so bravely restrained. 

At Bray, Captain Davenant found the rest of his troop drawn up inreadiness, and after a brief inspection, to see that all were presentwith their proper arms and accoutrements, he started with them forDublin, and after a few hours' rest there continued his way towardsDrogheda. 

The army then proceeded north to Dundalk, and bitter was thedisappointment of the troops when, on arriving there, they found thatSchomberg, instead of advancing to give battle, had shut himself up inthe intrenchments he had formed, and could not be induced to sally out. 

In vain King James, who accompanied his army, formed it up in order ofbattle within sight of the invaders' lines. Schomberg was not to betempted out, and, as the position appeared to be too strong to beattacked, the Irish were forced to endeavour to reduce it by the slowprocess of starvation. The English army was soon reduced to pitiablestraits--not from hunger, for they were able to obtain food from theships, but from disease. The situation of the camp was low and unhealthy. Fever broke out, and swept away vast numbers of the men. 

The Dutch and Enniskilleners suffered comparatively little--both wereaccustomed to a damp climate. But of the English troops, nearly eightthousand died in the two months that the blockade lasted. Had Jamesmaintained his position, the whole of the army of Schomberg must haveperished; but, most unfortunately for his cause, he insisted onpersonally conducting operations, and when complete success was in hisgrasp he marched his army away, in the middle of November, to winterquarters; thereby allowing Schomberg to move, with the eight thousand menwho remained to him, from the pest-stricken camp to healthier quarters. 

The disgust, of those of James's officers who understood anything of war, at this termination of the campaign was extreme. The men, indeed, wereeager to return to their homes, but would gladly have attempted anassault on the English camp before doing so; and, as the defenders werereduced to half their original strength, while most of the survivors wereweakened by disease, the attack would probably have been successful. James himself was several times on the point of ordering an attack, buthis own vacillation of character was heightened by the conflictingcounsels of his generals, who seemed more bent on thwarting each otherthan on gaining the cause for which they fought. 

The cavalry were not idle, while the blockade of Schomberg's campcontinued, frequently making excursions over the country to bring incattle for the army; for the villagers had, for the most part, desertedtheir homes, and herds of cattle were grazing without masters. One day, Captain Davenant's troop had ridden some thirty miles out of camp, andhad halted for the night in a village. In the morning, they broke up intosmall parties and scattered round the country. Walter, with fifteen ofthe troopers, had collected some cattle and stopped for an hour, to feedand rest the horses, in a deserted village. He took the precaution toplace two or three men on sentry round it. 

The men were sitting on the doorsteps, eating the food they had broughtwith them, when one of the outposts dashed in at full gallop, shoutingthat the enemy were upon them; but his warning came too late, for, closebehind him, came a body of wild-looking horsemen, shouting and yelling. There was a cry of "The Enniskilleners!" and the men ran to their horses. 

They had scarcely time to throw themselves in the saddle, when theEnniskilleners charged down. For a minute or two there was a confusedmedley, and then three or four of the troopers rode off at full speed, hotly pursued by the Enniskilleners. 

Walter had discharged his pistols and drawn his sword, but before he hadtime to strike a blow, his horse was rolled over by the rush of theenemy, and, as he was falling, he received a blow on the head from asabre which stretched him insensible on the ground. He was roused by twomen turning him over and searching his pockets. A slight groan burst fromhis lips. 

"The fellow is not dead, " one of the men said. 

"We will soon settle that, " the other replied. 

"Don't kill him, " the first speaker said. "Wait till the captain hasspoken to him. We may be able to get some information from him. We canfinish him afterwards. "

Walter lay with his eyes closed. He well knew that the Enniskillenerstook no prisoners, but killed all who fell into their hands, and hedetermined to show no signs of returning consciousness. Presently, heheard the sound of a party of horsemen returning, and by the exclamationsof disappointment which greeted the news they gave, he learned that some, at least, of his men had made their escape. 

Some time later, several men came up to him. One leaned over him, and puthis hand to his heart. 

"He is alive. "

"Very well, " another voice said. "Then we will take him with us. He is anofficer, and will be able to tell us all about their strength. 

"Watkins, you have a strong beast, and do not weigh much. Do you mount, and then we will tie him to your back. "

A minute later Walter was lifted up, and felt that he was placed on ahorse with his back to that of the rider. A rope was wound several timesround his body. He remained perfectly passive, with his head hanging downon his breast. Then a word of command was given, and the troop set off. 

For a time, there was no need for him to pretend insensibility, for thepain of his wound and the loss of blood overpowered him, and for sometime he was unconscious. After two hours' riding, the troop was halted. Walter felt the rope taken off him. Then he was lifted down, dragged ashort distance, and thrown down on some straw. Then a door shut, and heheard a key turned. He felt sure that he was alone, but for some time layperfectly quiet, as it was possible that one of the men might haveremained to watch him. 

After a quarter of an hour, hearing not the slightest sound, he openedhis eyes and looked round. He was, as he supposed, alone. The place inwhich he was lying was a stable, lighted only by a small opening high upin the wall. Certain, therefore, that he was not overlooked, he made aneffort to rise to his feet, but he was so weak and giddy that he wasobliged, for some time, to remain leaning against the wall. Seeing abucket in one corner, he made to it, and found, to his delight, that itwas half full of water, for he was parched with a devouring thirst. 

After taking a deep draught he felt greatly revived, and then made athorough survey of his prison. It evidently formed part of the house of awell-to-do man, for it was solidly built of stone, and the door wasstrong and well fitted. 

The opening in the wall was out of his reach. He could, at ordinarytimes, by standing on the upturned bucket, have reached it with a spring, and pulled himself up to it, but at present he was wholly incapable ofsuch exertion. He thought, however, that after a night's rest he would beable to do it. 

The door was so strong that he had no hope of escape in that direction. As he might at any moment be disturbed, he returned to the straw on whichhe had at first been thrown, laid himself down, and in a very short timedropped off to sleep. 

It was dark, before he was awoke by the turning of the key in the lock, and two men entered, one of them bearing a horn lantern. 

"Where am I?" Walter asked, in a feeble tone, as they approached him. 

"Never mind where you are, " one said roughly. "Get up. "

Walter seemed to make an effort, and then fell back with a groan. 

The man repeated his order, emphasizing it with a kick. Walter again madean effort, and, as before, sank back. 

"Here, catch hold of him, " the man said, impatiently, "it's no usefooling here with him. "

The men took Walter under the arms and lifted him up, and half dragged, half carried him out of the stable and into the house adjoining. He wastaken into a room where four or five men were sitting. 

"Now, young fellow, " one said sharply, "tell us what corps you belongto. "

Walter looked stupidly at his questioner, but made no answer. 

"Answer my question, " the man said, levelling a pistol at him, "or I willblow out your brains at once. "

Still Walter stared at him stupidly, and made no reply, except to mutter, "Water. "

"It's no use, " one of the other men said. "He hasn't got his right sensesyet. It's no use shooting him now, after we have had the trouble ofbringing him here. In the morning, he will be able to answer you. "

"He had better, " the other said savagely, "or we will light a fire androast him over it. There, take him back to the stable, and give him adrink of water. I don't want him to slip through our fingers, after thetrouble we have had with him. "

Walter was taken back, as before, to the stable, and one of the menbrought him a mug of water, and held it to his lips. He drank eagerly, and then the man placed the mug down beside him, the door was againclosed and locked, and Walter was alone. He rose at once to his feet, andfelt that his sleep had greatly refreshed and strengthened him. 

"I will have another sleep, before I try, " he said to himself. "It willnot be light till six, and it must be eight or nine o'clock now. I mustmake up my mind, before I doze off, to wake in about three or four hours;but first, I must see what I can find, here. "

He felt round the walls, but failed to find anything like a rope. 

"I must trust to luck, " he said; "I don't suppose they will post manysentries. These fellows are not real soldiers, and no doubt they will allbe sound asleep in a couple of hours. "

So saying, he again lay down, and was speedily asleep. When he woke, hefelt sure that he had not exceeded the time he had given himself. Helistened intently. He could hear a low, confused sound, which he knew wasmade by horses feeding, but he could hear no human voices. He drank therest of the water in the mug, then he turned up the bucket, placed itunder the opening, and mounted on it. 

His first spring failed to reach the sill, and he stood for a fewminutes, before making another attempt. He knew that it was a matter oflife or death, for he had no doubt whatever that, even if he gave therequired information, which he was determined not to do, however much hemight suffer, he would be shot afterwards. He braced himself to theutmost, took a long breath, and then sprang. His fingers caught on theledge of stonework, and, with a desperate effort, he drew himself up, aided by his feet. He had, before making the attempt, removed his boots, partly to avoid the scraping noise which these would make, partly toenable him the better to avail himself of the inequalities in thestonework. 

It was a desperate struggle; and when he got his shoulders in theopening, which was just wide enough to admit them, he lay for three orfour minutes, panting heavily, with the perspiration streaming down hisface. The aperture was too small to admit of his turning in any way, andthere was nothing for it, as he knew, but to drop head foremost. 

Gradually, he drew himself through the opening, lowering himself as muchas he could by holding on to the upper edge by his feet. Then, stretchingout his arms to save himself, he let go. Fortunately, the ground wassoft, for a garden adjoined the stable; but the shock was a heavy one, and he lay for a minute or two without moving, having some doubt whetherhe had not broken his neck. Then he got up, and listened. 

Everything was still and quiet, and, indeed, his fall had been almostnoiseless. He rose to his feet, felt along the wall until he encountereda low paling, climbed over it, and was in the road. 

He had, when he jumped for the window, tied his boots to his back, andnow carried them in his hand. The night was very dark; but his eyes, accustomed to the greater darkness of the stable, had no difficulty infollowing the road. He walked slowly, for the exertion he had undergoneand the shock of the fall had drawn greatly from his small stock ofstrength. 

After going a quarter of a mile, he put on his boots, and, climbing awall of sods which bordered the road, struck across country. There wereno stars to guide him, and a slight mist had begun to fall. There was butlittle wind, but this was sufficient to give a direction to the rain. Walter noticed this, and at once struck out in a direction which kept therain falling upon the right side of his face; and he knew that, by socontinuing, he was going in a tolerably straight line. As near as hecould tell he walked for two hours, and then, utterly exhausted, lay downon the lee side of a turf wall. 

There was, as yet, no gleam of light in the sky, and in a very fewminutes he was again sound asleep. He woke up with a feeling of bittercold, and, on rising, found that his limbs were completely stiffened bythe wet. It was morning now, the wind had got up, and a driving rain shutout the view on all sides. Walter stamped his feet and swung his arms forsome time to restore the circulation. 

He had no idea in which direction he had been travelling, for he did notknow whether the road from which he had started ran north, south, east, or west. He noticed that the wind had changed; for, whereas he had laindown under the lee of the wall, it was now the weather side. He walked inthe same direction as before for two hours, and could then go no farther. He had seen no signs of human habitation, and had not crossed a road oreven a footpath. Since starting in the morning he had passed no morewalls or fences, and, as far as his eye could reach through the drivingrain, nothing was to be seen save a desolate expanse of moor and bog. Hewas, at any rate, free from pursuit for the time, and he thought more ofobtaining food and shelter than of the Enniskilleners. 

It was useless pushing further on, even had he been able to do so, whilethe rain lasted; for he might have passed within a quarter of a mile of ahabitation without seeing it. He accordingly threw himself down besidesome low bushes, which afforded him some slight protection from the rain. 

Chapter 7: The Coming Battle. 

Some hours passed, and he was on the point of dropping off to sleepagain, when he heard a whistle repeated once or twice, followed by thesharp bark of a dog. It was but a short distance away, and, leaping tohis feet, he saw a peasant standing at a distance of two or three hundredyards. 

Walter hurried towards him at a speed of which, a few minutes before, hewould have thought himself incapable. The man continued whistling, atshort intervals, and did not notice Walter till he was within twentyyards distant; then he turned sharply round. 

"Who are you?" he asked, clubbing a heavy stick which he held in hishand, and standing on the defensive. 

The dress and appearance of the man assured Walter that he was aCatholic, and therefore a friend, and he replied at once:

"I belong to one of the Irish troops of horse. The Enniskillenerssurprised a party of us, yesterday, and wounded me, as you see. Fortunately, I escaped in the night, or they would have finished me thismorning. I have been out all night in the rain, and am weak from loss ofblood and hunger. Can you give me shelter?"

"That I can, " the man said, "and gladly. Those villains have been killingand destroying all over the country, and there's many a one of us who, like myself, have been driven to take refuge in the bogs. "

"Is it far?" Walter asked; "for I don't think I could get more than amile or two. "

"It is not half a mile, " the man said. "You do look nearly done for. Here, lean on me, I will help you along; and if you find your strengthgo, I will make a shift to carry you. "

"It is lucky I heard you whistle, " Walter said. 

"It is, indeed, " the man replied, "for it is not likely anyone else wouldhave come along today. My dog went off after a rabbit, and I waswhistling to him to come to me again. 

"Ah! Here he is. He has got the rabbit, too. Good dog! Well done!"

He took the rabbit and dropped it into the pocket of his coat. Seeingthat Walter was too exhausted to talk, he asked no questions, and saidnothing till he pointed to a low mound of earth, and said: "Here we are. "

He went round by the side; and Walter perceived that there was a sharpdip in the ground, and that the hut was dug out in the face of the slope;so that, if it were approached either from behind or on either side, itwould not be noticed, the roof being covered with sods, and closelymatching the surrounding ground. 

The man went to the low door, and opened it. 

"Come in, sir, " he said; "you are quite welcome. "

The hut contained two other men, who looked up in surprise at thegreeting. 

"This is a young officer, in one of our horse regiments, " the man said. "He has been in the hands of the Enniskilleners, and has got out fromthem alive--which is more than most can say. He has had a bad wound, hasbeen wet through for hours, and is half starving. Look sharp, lads, andget something hot, as soon as possible. 

"Now, sir, if you will take off those wet things of yours, and wrapyourself in that rug, you will find yourself the better for it. When aman is in health, a few hours wet will not do him any harm; but when heis weak from loss of blood, as you are, the cold seems to get into hisbones. "

Fresh turfs were at once put on the smouldering fire, which one of themen, leaning down before it, proceeded to blow lustily; and, althoughmuch of the smoke made its way out through a hole in the roof, enoughlingered to render it difficult for Walter to breathe, while his eyeswatered with the sharp fumes. A kettle had been placed on the fire, andin a very short time, a jar was produced from the corner of the hut, anda horn of strong spirits and water mixed. 

"Here are some cold praties, sir. It's all we have got cooked by us now, but I can promise you a better meal, later on. "

Walter ate the potatoes, and drank the warm mixture. The change from thecold damp air outside, to the warm atmosphere of the hut, aided theeffects of the spirits; he was first conscious of a warm glow all overhim, and then the voices of the men seemed to grow indistinct. 

"You had better stretch yourself on that pile of rushes, " the man said, as Walter gave a start, being on the point of rolling over. "Two or threehours' sleep will make a man of you, and by that time dinner will beready, and your clothes dry. "

Walter fell almost instantaneously off to sleep, and it was late in theafternoon before he woke. 

"I am afraid I must have slept a long time, " he said, sitting up. 

"You have had a fine sleep, surely, " one of the men replied; "and it'sdinner and supper, all in one, that you will have. "

Walter found his uniform and underclothes neatly folded up by his side, and speedily dressed himself. 

"That sleep has done me a world of good, " he said. "I feel quite myselfagain. "

"That's right, yer honour. When you've had your food, I will make a shiftto dress that wound at the back of yer head. Be jabbers, it's a hardknock you have had, and a mighty lot of blood you must have lost! Yerclothes was just stiff with it; but I washed most of it out. 

"And now, lads, off with the pot!"

A large pot was hanging over the fire, and, when the lid was taken off, asmell very pleasant to Walter's nostrils arose. Four flat pieces of woodserved the purpose of plates, and, with a large spoon of the samematerial, the man who had brought Walter to the hut, and who appeared tobe the leader of the party, ladled out portions of the contents. Theseconsisted of rabbit and pieces of beef, boiled up with potatoes andonions. A large jug filled with water, and a bottle of spirits wereplaced in the centre, with the horn which Walter had before used besideit. 

"We are short of crockery, " the man said with a laugh. "Here are someknives, but as for forks, we just have to do without them. "

Walter enjoyed his meal immensely. After it was finished, the woodenplatters were removed, and the jug replenished. 

"Now, your honour, will you tell us how you got away from the Protestantrebels, and how was it they didn't make short work of you, when theycaught you? It's a puzzle to us entirely, for the Enniskilleners spareneither man, woman, nor child. "

Walter related the whole circumstances of his capture, imprisonment, andescape. 

"You fooled them nicely, " the man said, admiringly. "Sure your honour'sthe one to get out of a scrape--and you little more than a boy. "

"And what are you doing here?" Walter asked, in return. "This seems awild place to live in. "

"It's just that, " the man said. "We belonged to Kilbally. TheEnniskilleners came that way, and burned it to the ground. They murderedmy wife and many another one. I was away cutting peat with my wife'sbrother here. When we came back, everything was gone. A few had escapedto the bogs, where they could not be followed; the rest was, everymother's son of them, killed by those murdering villains. Your honour mayguess what we felt, when we got back. Thank God I had no children! Weburied the wife in the garden behind the house, and then started away andjoined a band of rapparees, and paid some of them back in their own coin. Then, one day, the Enniskilleners fell on us, and most of us were killed. Then we made our way back to the old village, and came up here and builtus this hut. It's a wonder to us how you got here; for there are bogsstretching away in all directions, and how you made your way through thembates us entirely. "

"Yours is a sad story, but unfortunately a common one. And how have youmanaged to live here?"

"There are plenty of potatoes, for the digging of 'em, " the man said, "for there are a score of ruined villages within a day's walk. As formeat, there are cattle for the taking, wandering all over the country;some have lately strayed away; but among the hills there are herds whichhave run wild since the days when Cromwell made the country a desert. Asfor spirits, I brew them myself. Barley as well as potatoes may be hadfor the taking. Then, sometimes, the dog picks up a rabbit. Sometimes, when we go down for potatoes, we light on a fowl or two; there's many aone of them running wild among the ruins. As far as eating and drinkinggoes, we never did better; and if I could forget the old cottage, and thesight that met my eyes when I went back to it, I should do well enough, but, night and day I am dreaming of it, and my heart is sore with longingfor vengeance. "

"Why don't you join the army?" Walter asked. "There's plenty of room forgood men, and yesterday's affair has made some vacancies in my own troop. 

"What do you say, lads? You would have a chance of crossing swords withthe Enniskilleners, and you could always come back here when the war isover. "

"What do you say, boys?" the man asked his companions. "I am justwearying for a fight, and I could die contented, if I could but send afew of those murdering villains to their place, before I go. "

The other two men at once agreed. They talked well into the night, andWalter heard many tales of the savage butchery of unoffending peasants, by the men who professed to be fighting for religious liberty, whichshocked and sickened him. 

It was arranged that they should start on the following morning. The mensaid that they could guide him across country to Dundalk withoutdifficulty, and assured him that he would be little likely to meet withthe enemy, for that the whole country had been so wasted, by fire andsword, as to offer but little temptation even to the most insatiable ofplunderers. 

Accordingly, the next morning they set out, and arrived late that eveningat the camp. Walter found that his father and his followers were absent. They had returned, much surprised at not having been rejoined by Walter'sparty, but on their arrival they had found there the survivors of hiscommand, who had ridden straight for Dundalk. 

After a few hours' stay, to rest the horses, Captain Davenant, with hisown men and two of the troops of cavalry, had ridden out in search of theEnniskilleners. Larry, who had been almost wild with grief when the newsof the surprise, and, as he believed, the death of Walter, had beenbrought in, had accompanied the cavalry. 

It was late on the following afternoon before they rode into camp. Larrywas the first to come in, having received permission from CaptainDavenant to gallop on ahead. They had met the enemy, and had inflicted adecisive defeat upon them, but the greater part had escaped, by taking tothe hills on their wiry little horses, which were able to traverse bogsand quagmires impassable to the heavy troopers. 

Captain Davenant had closely questioned two or three wounded men who fellinto his hands. These all declared that a young officer had beencaptured, in the previous fight, that he had been severely wounded, andcarried away senseless, but that he had, in some extraordinary manner, managed to escape that night. This story had greatly raised CaptainDavenant's hopes that Walter might yet be alive, a hope which he had notbefore allowed himself, for a moment, to indulge in; and as he nearedDundalk, he had readily granted leave for the impatient Larry to gallopon ahead, and discover if any news had been received of Walter. 

Larry's delight, at seeing his young master standing at the door of thetent, was extreme. He gave a wild whoop, threw his cap high up into theair, and then, without a word of greeting, turned his horse's head andgalloped away again, at the top of his speed, to carry the good news toCaptain Davenant. Half an hour later, the column rode into camp, andWalter was clasped in his father's arms. 

That evening, Walter's three companions were enrolled in the troop, and, hearing that there were vacancies for fifteen more, volunteered to returnto the hills, and to bring back that number of men from the peasantshiding there. This mission they carried out, and, by the end of the week, Captain Davenant's troop was again made up to its full strength. 

The unsuccessful result of the siege of Schomberg's camp greatly dampedWalter's enthusiasm. He had been engaged in two long and tediousblockades, and, with the exception of some skirmishes round Derry, hadseen nothing whatever of fighting. Neither operation had been attended byany decisive result. Both had inflicted extreme misery and suffering uponthe enemy, but in neither was the success aimed at attained. At the sametime, the novelty of the life, the companionship of his father and theother officers of the regiment, and, not least, the good humour and funof his attendant, Larry, had made the time pass far more cheerfully tohim than to the majority of those in the army. 

As before, when the army arrived at Dublin, Captain Davenant's troop wasposted in and around Bray, the greater portion of it being permitted toreside in their own homes, until again wanted for active service. Walter, on his return, was glad to find that his friend John Whitefoot had madehis way home from Derry, and their pleasant intercourse was at oncerenewed. 

Schomberg's army, when moved to healthy quarters and bountifully suppliedwith all kinds of food and necessaries from England, speedily recoveredtheir health and discipline, and, in a very short time, were again incondition to take the field. 

Early in February, 1690, Brigadier Wolseley, with a detachment ofEnniskilleners and English, marched against Cavan. James had no longer anarmy with which he could oppose Schomberg's enterprises. While the latterhad been recovering from the effects of his heavy losses, nothing hadbeen done to put the Irish army in a condition to take the field again. They lacked almost every necessary for a campaign. No magazines had beenformed to supply them, when they should again advance; and so short offorage were they, that it was considered impossible to make any move inforce, until the grass should grow sufficiently to enable the horses toget into condition. 

Nevertheless, the Duke of Berwick marched with eight hundred men fromDublin, and Brigadier Nugent with a like force from West Meath andLongford, and arrived at Cavan a few hours before the English reached thetown. The Irish force was composed entirely of infantry, with theexception of two troops of cavalry. The English force consisted of sevenhundred foot, and three hundred cavalry. 

As Cavan did not offer any advantages in the way of defence, the Duke ofBerwick moved his army out into the open field. The English lined thehedges, and stood on the defensive. The Irish horse commenced the battlewith a furious charge on the Enniskilleners and dragoons, and drove themfrom the field; but the English infantry maintained their position sostoutly that, after a prolonged fight, the Irish retreated into a fortnear the town. The English and Enniskilleners entered Cavan, and at oncebegan to plunder the place. 

Hearing what was going on, the Duke of Berwick sallied out from his fortto attack them, and gained considerable advantage. Brigadier Wolseley, being unable to restore discipline among the Enniskilleners, who formedthe great majority of his force, ordered the town to be set on fire inseveral places. The troops then collected, and repulsed the Irish withconsiderable loss. 

The Duke of Berwick had two hundred killed, amongst whom were BrigadierNugent and many officers. As the Irish remained in possession of thefort, and the town was almost entirely destroyed by fire, BrigadierWolseley returned with his force to Dundalk. 

Shortly afterwards, the Fort of Charlemont was invested by a strongdetachment of Schomberg's army. Teigue O'Regan, the veteran governor, defended the place with the greatest bravery, and did not capitulateuntil the 14th of May, when the last ounce of provisions was consumed. The garrison were allowed honourable terms, and the eight hundred men whodefended the place, with their arms and baggage, and some two hundredwomen and children, were allowed to march away. The Enniskillenerstreated the Irish soldiers and their families with great brutality, asthey passed along, but Schomberg humanely ordered that a loaf of breadshould be given to each man at Armagh. The Irish army were not incondition to render any assistance to the hard pressed garrison ofCharlemont, until after they had capitulated. 

In the meantime, a great army, which was to be led by King William inperson, was being collected in England. It consisted of a strange medley, collected from almost every European nation--English, Scotch, IrishProtestants, French Huguenots, Dutch, Swedes, Danes, Brandenburghers, Swiss, Norwegians, and Hessians. More than half, indeed, were foreigners. All were well disciplined, armed, and clothed. In all, including theforce under Schomberg, the army amounted to forty-three thousand men, andfifty cannon. 

King William landed at Carrickfergus, on the 14th of June, and thecombined army at once began their southward march. Against this force, King James collected but twenty thousand men. Of these, six thousand wereFrench. They had arrived, under the command of the Count de Lauzun, inMarch, but they had not increased the numbers of King James's troops, forhe had been obliged to send, in exchange, an equal number of hisbest-trained soldiers, under Lord Mountcashel, for service in France. Ofthe fourteen thousand native troops, the Irish horse, which was raisedand officered by Irish gentlemen, was excellent, but the infantry wascomposed for the most part of raw levies, but half armed, and the onlyartillery consisted of twelve guns, which had arrived with the infantryfrom France. 

It was a sad parting, when Captain Davenant and Walter left home for thefront. The former was filled with gloomy forebodings. He could scarcelyhope that the ill-trained levies of James could succeed against thevastly superior force, of disciplined troops, with whom they had now tocope; especially as the latter were led by an able and energetic general, while the former were hampered by the incompetence and vacillation ofJames. 

The day before they started, Captain Davenant rode over to the Whitefootsand had a talk with Jabez. 

"I know not how the campaign will go, " he said. "If we are beaten, weshall probably retire to the west, and maintain the war there. In thatcase, Dublin will of course fall into the hands of William. Should thisbe so, I will ask you to reverse our late position, and to extend whatassistance you can to my wife and mother. It may be that, if I do notreturn here, none will disturb them. I have not made myself obnoxious tomy Protestant neighbours, and no one may take the trouble to bring itbefore the notice of the English that I am absent, fighting with the armyof King James. If, however, they should do so, and the castle and whatremains of the estates be confiscated, will you lend what aid you can tothe ladies, and my younger boy, until I or Walter return from the war?"

"That will I do, right gladly, " Jabez said, heartily. "Should I hear anytalk of what you speak of, I will go up to Dublin with some of ourfriends and ministers, and we will testify to the good relations whichhave existed between you and your Protestant neighbours, and entreat thatno measures be taken against your estate. Should we not prevail, beassured that I will look after the comfort of the ladies, as if they wereof my own family. 

"I can well understand that Mrs. Davenant, the elder, would not acceptthe shelter of our roof, whatever her extremity. She belongs to thegeneration of my father, and cannot forget the past; but I will see thatthey are well lodged in Bray, and have every protection from molestationand annoyance there. Should I find, as, alas! may be the case, that thespirit of religious persecution is fiercely abroad, I will consult withthem, as to whether they may wish to cross the sea until you can jointhem, and will make arrangements, as they may direct, for their passage. "

"I am truly obliged to you, " Captain Davenant said. "It will make mecomfortable to know that, whatsoever may befall me, they will have afriend in these stormy times. "

"Say nought about it, " Jabez replied. "Did not you and your son succourmy boy in his extremity? If I do all, and more than all that I can inthis matter, I shall not deem that we are quits. "

The Irish army moved forward to the Boyne, which William was approachingfrom the north. James's officers endeavoured to dissuade him from settingeverything on the hazard of the battle. They represented that his army, though now quite unequal to the contest, was rapidly improving in skilland confidence in itself; that reinforcements were every day expectedfrom France, which would at least make them equal to the enemy innumbers; that they were in want of arms, artillery, and stores, all whichmight be expected also from France, in a short period; and that theirpolicy was clearly to protract the war, and wear out the enemy by acontest of posts and sieges. 

Unskilled as his troops might be in the field, they had proved themselvessteady and resolute in the defence of fortified places. They held all thegreat fortresses of the kingdom, and it would be easy to provide for thedefence of these, and to occupy William's army in small affairs, till thewinter, when the climate would do execution upon the invaders, while theIrish would suffer little. Then would be the time to fight. 

In the meantime, it was urged, the intrigues the French were activelycarrying out in Britain would have produced some effect. The French fleetwas, every day, expected on the coast of England, and William would soonbe compelled to return to that country, if not to recall the greater partof his army. In Scotland, too, the French were busy; and there werematerials in that country for creating a powerful diversion. To fight nowwould be to forego every advantage, and to meet the views of William, whose obvious interest it was to bring the contest to an immediatedecision, now, while every circumstance was in his favour. 

But James, who had hitherto shown nothing but timidity and hesitation, was now seized with an impulse of valour. Having acted with unfortunatecowardice before Derry, and Schomberg's camp at Dundalk, he was, asunfortunately, now seized with ardour to fight, when prudence anddiscretion would have been his best policy. But while James wasdetermining to fight, in the teeth of the opinion and advice of hisbravest officers, his true character was shown in his taking everyprecaution for his personal safety. He sent off his heavy baggage, andengaged a vessel, at Waterford, to convey him to France. 

William, on the other hand, was naturally eager for an early engagement. He was still very insecurely seated upon the English throne. The peoplewere either discontented or indifferent. They looked with impatience andindignation at the crowd of Dutch officers and civilians, whom Williamhad brought over with him; while the cold and ungracious manner of theking contrasted, most unfavourably, with the bearing to which they hadbeen accustomed in English monarchs. 

In Scotland, the Jacobite spirit was gathering in strength, and Williamknew that, unless he speedily broke the strength of James's party inIreland, he would very shortly be confronted with difficulties anddangers on all sides. 

The position which the Irish army occupied was a strong one. Its rightrested upon Drogheda, a strong town in their possession. In front was theBoyne, with steep banks lined with thick hedges, with cottages scatteredhere and there, offering an excellent position for light troops. On theleft, the Boyne turned almost at a right angle, and formed a defence onthis flank. To the rear, the Irish position was covered by high hills andthe village of Donore. Further back was the pass of Duleek. The hedgesand cottages by the river side were occupied by the Irish infantry, andupon some little hillocks, which ran along the water's edge, they erectedsome light batteries. 

King William reconnoitred the position with great attention, and saw thatit had been well chosen, and its advantages turned to account. Notwithstanding the reports of deserters and others, he showed muchanxiety to determine the exact strength of the Irish. After examining theposition for some time from a height, he rode down towards the river, accompanied by several of his officers. When within musket shot of thebank, near the ford and village of Old Bridge, he perceived that a smallisland in the Boyne was occupied by a party of the Irish horse. Near theford some field works had been thrown up. It was at this point that theking determined to cross the river, and he spent some time conversingwith his officers, as to the arrangements for the passage. 

He then rode slowly along the river bank, until he arrived nearlyopposite the left of the Irish line. Here he alighted from his horse, andsat down on rising ground, watching his own battalions, which weremarching, with the greatest regularity and order, into the positionsassigned to them. 

While he was so engaged, some officers of James's army were observed, riding quietly along the opposite bank of the river, and also engaged inwatching the movements of the British troops. These were GeneralSarsfield, the Duke of Berwick, the Marquis of Tyrconnell, the Count deLauzun, and others. Some of the English dragoons approached the river, and were fired upon by the Irish. They returned the fire, and, while theattention of both sides was engaged by the skirmish, a party of Irishcavalry moved slowly down towards the river and halted behind a lowhedge, and then, wheeling about, again retired. 

The movements of the king, and the group of officers accompanying him, had been observed in the Irish army, and two field pieces were sent down, concealed in the centre of the cavalry. The guns had been placed behindthe hedge when the horsemen withdrew, and, when William rose from theground and mounted his horse, fire was opened. The first cannon shotkilled two horses, and a man by his side. The next grazed the king'sright shoulder, tearing away his coat and inflicting a slight fleshwound. Had the aim been slightly more accurate, or had the gunners firedwith grape, instead of round shot, it is probable that the whole courseof history would have been changed. 

The rumour spread through both armies that the king was killed; but thewound was a slight one, and, having had it hastily bound up, the kingrode quietly through the camps, in order to show the men that the hurtwas not serious. In the evening, he called a council of war. The Duke ofSchomberg was strongly opposed to an attack upon the enemy, while postedin so strong a position, and urged that, by making a turning movement andmarching straight upon Dublin, the enemy would be obliged to fall back, and fight under less advantageous circumstances. But the king, relyingupon his superior numbers and the discipline of his veteran troops, determined to attack at once, knowing that it was all important to bringthe matter to a decision, as early as possible. 

Schomberg then urged the necessity of occupying the pass of Slane, uponthe Boyne, considerably to the west of the Irish line, as he would thuscut off their retreat, and, in the event of victory, render their defeata decided one; but the king saw that he should require his whole force todislodge the Irish from their position, and that it was useless to occupythe pass of Slane with a small detachment, as these would be overwhelmedby the retiring Irish. 

It was twelve o'clock at night, before the council terminated, and thenthe king mounted his horse and rode through the camp. He examined intothe state and preparation of each regiment, saw that the soldiers wereabundantly supplied with food and refreshment for the morning, and thatsufficient ammunition for the day's work had been served out. He directedthe men to wear green branches in their caps, and gave "Westminster" asthe word for the day. 

The order of the battle finally determined upon was that the right wingof the army, under General Douglas and Count Schomberg, son of the duke, should pass the river at Slane and endeavour to turn the Irish left, between Slane and Duleek. The left wing were to penetrate between theIrish right and Drogheda; the centre to force the passage of the river, at the ford of Old Bridge. 

A council was also held in James's camp, and here also there wasdifference of opinion. Some of the generals wished to hold the pass ofSlane in force, but James decided against this. As the morningapproached, the king's newborn courage began to die out. He ordered somemovements to the rear, and sent forward more of his baggage. He wouldprobably have declined the combat altogether, had it not been too late. Finally, just as day was breaking over the council, he determined thatthe army should retreat during the battle, and not commit themselves in adecisive engagement. The French formed the left, and were to lead theretreat, while the Irish held the right and centre. 

It is almost certain that, if James had kept to his resolution to fight, imprudent as it appeared to be, and had brought the French battalion intoaction, instead of leading them out of the field, the result of thebattle of the Boyne would have been a very different one. 

Chapter 8: Boyne Water. 

The morning of Tuesday, the 1st of July, 1690, broke calm and bright. Atabout six o'clock in the morning the English right wing, under GeneralDouglas and Count Schomberg, marched towards Slane. It consisted oftwenty-four squadrons of horse, and six battalions of infantry. As theymarched along at the back of the river, they discovered several shallows, and crossed without proceeding as far as Slane. No serious resistance wasoffered to their passage of the Boyne, as the Irish had here only someparties of skirmishers, who fell back as they advanced. 

After forming the troops in order, Douglas and Schomberg advanced, butpresently perceived the French battalions and a great part of the Irishcavalry, forming the left wing of James's army, drawn up in order at somedistance. They consequently halted, and sent for reinforcements. Whenthese arrived, they extended their lines to the right, so as to outflankthe enemy, and, supporting their cavalry by alternate battalions ofinfantry, again moved forward. 

The Irish skirmishers fell back before their advance, taking advantage ofthe banks of the ditches, which divided the ground into small fields, andkeeping up a galling fire upon the British as they advanced. With somedifficulty, the latter passed over this broken ground and formed in orderof battle, on the edge of what appeared to be a plain, but which was infact a deep bog, which completely covered the Irish left. Here they cameto a standstill. 

William had waited, until he believed that his right would have had timeto fall upon the Irish left, and then ordered his centre to advance andforce the passage at Old Bridge. The Dutch guards, whom William reliedupon as his best and most trustworthy troops, advanced in splendid orderto the river side, with their drums beating the march. When they reachedthe water's edge the drums ceased, and the soldiers entered the river. The stream rose as the dense column marched in and dammed it up, and thewater reached the shoulders of the grenadiers, but they still moved on, in regular order, keeping their arms and ammunition dry by holding themabove their heads. On the opposite bank, the hedges near the brink of theriver were lined with skirmishers, while in the rear, in a hollow coveredby some little hills, seven regiments of Irish infantry, supported by tentroops of horse and Tyrconnell's regiment of cavalry, were drawn up. Thehills protected them from the fire of the British batteries, which passedover their heads. 

The Dutch troops continued their way unmolested, until they reached themiddle of the river, when a hot fire was opened upon them from the Irishskirmishers; but the Dutch moved on, unshaken, and soon gained theopposite bank, where they rapidly formed up, the skirmishers retiringbefore them. Scarcely had the Dutch formed their squares, when the Irishhorse burst down upon them at full speed, and charged them withimpetuosity. 

They stood the charge unbroken, but again and again the Irish horsecharged down upon them, with the greatest gallantry. William pushed tworegiments of French Huguenots and one of British across the river, to theassistance of the Dutch guards, and ordered Sir John Hanmars and theCount of Nassau's regiment to cross, lower down the stream, to supportthem. 

As the supports were making a passage, General Hamilton advanced, at thehead of a body of Irish infantry, to the water's edge, and, dashing intothe river, encountered the French Huguenot regiments in the middle of thestream. A desperate fight ensued, but the French made their way across, and Hamilton, falling back with his infantry, opened to the right andleft, permitting the Irish horse to charge through them. 

These rushed with fury upon the French regiment of Colonel La Callimot, and cut their way right through them. Then, wheeling, they charged themin flank again, broke them, and drove them into the river. La Callimothimself was killed, and but few of his regiment regained the oppositebank. 

In the meantime the Dutch guards, now reinforced, were advancing slowly, the Irish infantry holding fast to the hedges and brushwood, andcontesting every inch of the ground, while, wherever the ground permittedit, the Irish horse burst down upon them, evincing a gallantry anddetermination which would have done honour to the finest cavalry inEurope. The king continued to make repeated efforts to support his Dutchtroops, and, after the French were broken, he pushed forward the Danishhorse; but no sooner had they crossed the bank than the Irish cavalryburst down upon them, broke them, and drove them back into the river. They fled across the stream in disorder, and dispersed in all directions. 

So far, success had rested principally with the Irish; the Dutch guardsalone remained unbroken in the centre; the French infantry and Danishhorse were broken and destroyed. Old Duke Schomberg exerted himself tothe utmost, to restore the battle at this point, and, having rallied theFrench infantry advanced with them, and a few French cavalry, towards theriver, where he was met by some of the Irish horse returning from thepursuit of the Danes. The old duke was cut down and his party againrouted, and at the same moment Walker, the clerical commander of Derry, received a mortal wound. 

After his successful defence of Derry, this man had gone to London, wherehe had been feted and made much of, and had then attached himself to KingWilliam's army, where he posed as a high military authority, althoughmuch discouraged by the king, whom his arrogance and airs of authoritydispleased. 

While in the centre William's forces were getting worsted, and on hisright Douglas and Count Schomberg were inactive and powerless, he himselfwas leading his left wing across the river. The passage was a difficultone, and the king himself was only extricated, with much exertion, from aquicksand into which his horse had plunged. 

The Irish did not oppose the crossing, and as soon as his forces wereacross the stream, William ranged them in order. They consisted of alarge body of Danish, Dutch, and Enniskillen horse, and a considerableforce of infantry. As soon as all were in order the king, though stillsuffering from the wound he had received the day before, drew his swordand put himself at the head of his troops. 

The Irish right wing, which consisted chiefly of infantry, moved forwardto meet them, but perceiving the numerous cavalry, led by the kinghimself, preparing to take them in flank, they halted, faced about andmarched slowly to the little hill of Donore. Having gained this point, they again faced round and charged down upon the British, who hadfollowed them closely. 

At this moment the Irish cavalry, who had moved rapidly from the centreto the support of the right, charged down upon the Danish and Dutch horseled by the king, and no sooner had they come in contact than the Danesand Dutch turned and rode off, with the Irish cavalry in pursuit. Theking rode towards the Enniskilleners. Colonel Wolseley told his men thatit was the king, and asked if they wished to follow him. They repliedwith a shout, and the king, placing himself at the head, rode towards theIrish infantry; but as they advanced they were met by a well-directedvolley, and, being much more fond of plundering and slaughtering than ofclose fighting, they turned horse and rode away. 

Again and again the king rallied his infantry and brought them back tothe fight, but the Irish infantry stood their ground with greatsteadiness, until Hamilton, their general, was wounded and taken in acharge of cavalry. After this, they fell back from Donore upon Duleek ingood order, the enemy not wanting to molest them, and the rest of theIrish infantry followed their example. 

No more singular battle than that of the Boyne was ever fought. In themorning, at break of day, part of James's army, with most of hisartillery, were in march for the pass of Slane, and actually on theirretreat. The left wing, composed chiefly of French infantry, supposed tobe the best troops in the army, never fired a shot. The centre and right, composed entirely of Irish, most of whom had never before been in battle, were alone engaged. With the exception of his Dutch guards, all William'sforeign troops had been repeatedly broken; his cavalry had been drivenoff the field by the Irish horse, while no division of the Irish wasbroken or suffered a decided defeat, until the infantry from the hill ofDonore were compelled to retreat, which they did in perfect order. 

Throughout the day, the Irish cavalry showed a vast superiority to thoseof the British, and even broke and destroyed regiments of infantry; andwhen the whole army fell back they closed up the rear, and effectuallyprevented any attempt at pursuit. Thus, the battle of the Boyne wasfought rather to cover a retreat than defend a position. The loss oneither side was estimated at about five hundred, and General Hamilton wasthe only prisoner taken by the British. 

The honours of the fight certainly rested with the Irish, who, against avastly superior force, comprising some of the best troops in Europe, maintained themselves throughout the day, and gained, indeed, in mostpoints, a decided advantage. 

King James's valour had entirely evaporated before the first shot wasfired. Instead of following William's example, and leading his troops inthe conflict which was to decide the fate of his crown, and which hehimself had precipitated, he took up his position at a safe distance fromdanger, on the hill of Donore, and as soon as the battle approached thatpoint he rode off to Duleek, where he placed himself at the head of theFrench troops, and led their retreat. He soon, however, rode on ahead, and arrived in Dublin in a state of consternation and despair, the firstfugitive from the field of battle. In the meantime the army was whole andunbroken, marching in perfect order from the field of battle, while itsking and commander was doing his best to ruin the cause by spreadingdismay and alarm throughout the country. 

The next morning the king sent for the mayor and corporation of Dublin, and told them that he was under the necessity of taking care of himself, and recommended them to do the same, and to make the best terms theycould with the enemy. He then at once mounted and made his flight toWaterford, ordering the bridges to be broken down behind him, althoughthe British army had not yet moved from its position on the Boyne. Onreaching Waterford James at once embarked on board the ship he hadordered to be in readiness, and sailed for France. His conduct, and hisconduct alone, converted the battle of the Boyne, which was in effect akind of drawn battle, into a great victory for William. 

It had, indeed, more than answered the object which the Irish commandersproposed to themselves. Their plan was to accustom the new and badlyarmed levies to stand firm against the steadiness and experience ofWilliam's veteran troops, and then to withdraw without committingthemselves to a decisive combat, with a view of protracting the campaignuntil William should be forced to leave Ireland, and his foreign armyshould be worn out by winter service in an uncongenial climate. Every daywould, they calculated, improve their own army and weaken and reduce thatof the enemy. 

Their position at the Boyne enabled them to try their plan of partialcombat to what extent they chose, without danger of being forced into amore extensive action than they deemed expedient. The Irish troops hadgreatly surpassed the expectation of their own officers, and had filledWilliam's generals with amazement; and it is probable that, if a largepart of the infantry and artillery had not been sent off early in theday, the experiment might have been turned into a brilliant victory. Asit was, William was so surprised and alarmed at the resistance he hadencountered, that he remained some days at the Boyne without advancing. He had been told by all, except the Duke of Schomberg, that theresistance of the Irish would be contemptible, and the most forward ofthose who had scoffed at the courage of the Irish had been theEnniskilleners, who had themselves, on the day of battle, shown sounmistakably the white feather. After this the king disliked and despisedthese troops, and hung them without ceremony, when taken in those acts ofplunder and slaughter to which they were so much addicted. 

So far from the flight of King James discouraging the army, it causeduniversal joy. It was his constant vacillation, interference, andcowardly action which had paralysed his troops; and they felt that, nowthey were free to act without his interference, they would be able tocope with the invaders. 

William at once offered favourable terms, if Ireland would submit to hisauthority; but these were declined, partly owing to the powerfulinfluence of France, partly to the fear that the terms would not beobserved, partly to the apprehension of all the gentry, that the landswhich they had but just recovered from the hands of Cromwell's settlerswould be again taken from them. 

At the battle of the Boyne, Walter Davenant, with his father's troop, hadtaken part in all the desperate charges upon the enemy. During the longhours the battle had lasted, the cavalry had been incessantly engaged. Time after time they had charged down upon the Dutch squares, and nosooner had the ranks been reformed, after recoiling from the line offixed bayonets, than they were called upon to charge in anotherdirection. 

Walter's heart beat high as they dashed into the midst of the Frenchinfantry, or shattered and drove before them the Danish horse; but therewas little time to think, and, looking back upon the day when all wasover, it seemed to him a chaos of excitement and confusion, of which hecould hardly recall even the chief incidents. 

As the troops halted for the night, they were in no way dispirited at theresult of the battle, as the retreat had been begun before a blow wasstruck. They knew that it was neither intended nor hoped that the groundwould be successfully held; and every man felt a pride in the thoughtthat some eighteen thousand newly-raised Irish levies, of whom but asmall portion of the infantry were armed with muskets, had sustained, throughout a long summer's day, the attacks of more than double theirnumber of veteran troops, supported by fifty pieces of artillery. 

The loss of the Irish horse had been comparatively small. Charging asquare, in the days when the bayonet was fixed in the muzzle of the gun, was not the desperate undertaking that it now is, when from the hedge ofsteel issues a rolling and continuous fire. The French regiment, oncebroken, had been cut down with scarce any resistance, while the mercenarycavalry had been defeated with the greatest ease. Thus, among the brigadeof the Irish horse there were but few fallen friends to mourn, andnothing to mar the pride that every man felt, in the behaviour of theIrish troops against such overwhelming odds. That the king had fled, everyone knew, but the feeling was one of relief. 

"His absence is more than a victory to us, " Captain Davenant said, as, with a group of officers, he sat by a fire, made of a fence hastilypulled down. "His majesty has his virtues, and, with good counsellors, would make a worthy monarch; but among his virtues military genius is notconspicuous. I should be glad, myself, if Lauzun and the French wouldalso take their departure, and let us have Mountcashel's division backagain from France. If we are left to ourselves, with our own generals, Sarsfield and Mountcashel, we can tire out this continental riffraff thatWilliam has gathered together. The dissensions caused by Frenchinterference have been our ruin, so far; leave us to ourselves, and weshall do. The Irish today have proved their fighting qualities; and, ifproper use is made of the resources and difficulties of the country, Idefy them to conquer us. I feel more hopeful now than I have done sincethe first day we took the field. "

"Do you think we shall fight another battle before Dublin, father?"Walter asked. 

"I have no idea what the generals will decide, Walter, but I shouldimagine that we shall march to the west. We had a strong position today, but in the open field, at present, we could not hope to cope withWilliam's superior numbers and great artillery train. His guns werelittle use to him yesterday; but on level ground they would tear ourranks to pieces, without our being able to make any return. Among therivers and bogs and mountains of the west, we should find scores ofplaces which we could hold against them. Besides, in my opinion we shouldnot fight pitched battles, but should harass them with continuous marchesand attacks, leaving them masters only of the ground they stand on, until, at last, we completely wear them out and exhaust them. "

"Then you think we shall abandon Dublin altogether?"

"I think so, Walter. "

"But will they not persecute the Catholics, when they have them in theirpower?"

"There may be some disturbance in the city, Walter, before the Englishtroops march in; but William will, no doubt, put an end to this as soonas he arrives. He cannot wish to drive the Catholics of Ireland todesperation. At any rate, I do not think we need feel at all uneasy aboutthose at home. Lying on the coast to the east of the town of Dublin, andaltogether out of the track of the movements of troops, there is littlefear of trouble there. In our district there is little preponderance, innumbers, of one religion over the other; and unless the presence oftroops, or worse, of those savages from Enniskillen or Derry, excitethem, there is little fear of the Protestants of that neighbourhoodinterfering with our people, especially as they have no grounds forcomplaint in the past. No, I do not think that you need disquietyourself, in the slightest, about those at home. "

As Captain Davenant had thought probable, the Irish army, after marchinginto Dublin in good order, with flags flying and music playing, left onthe following day for the west. They were accompanied by most of theleading Catholic families; and on their departure the corporation at oncewrote to William, inviting him to enter the capital. Before his arrival, however, the Protestant mob destroyed a great quantity of propertybelonging to the Catholics, and carried their excesses to such a pointthat the town would probably have been destroyed by fire, had not thebetter classes of Protestants armed themselves, and taken energetic stepsto repress the tumult. 

As the troops marched into Dublin, Walter said to Captain Davenant:

"Can I ride over to see how they are at home? They will have heard of thebattle. Mother and grandmother must be terribly anxious. "

"I shall be glad for you to go, Walter, for it would greatly ease theirminds at home; but we are to start again, almost immediately, andprobably the whole army will have marched off before you get back in themorning. There is no saying what may occur, after we have gone. There maybe a general attack upon the Catholics. At any rate, it will be dangerousin the extreme for a single officer, in our uniform, to be riding throughthe town after we have left. Even in the country villages there must beintense excitement, and anyone in the king's uniform might be fired at, in passing through any of the Protestant settlements. "

"Well, father, suppose I do not start until it gets dark, then I can gethome without attracting notice. There I can put on a suit of my oldclothes, and bring my uniform out in my valise. "

"Well, perhaps you might manage in that way, Walter; and I should be veryglad to relieve their minds at home, and to know how they are going on. If you like, you can stop there for a day or two. I don't suppose thatWilliam will be here with his troops, for a few days. He has learned thatour army is not to be despised, and he may hesitate to advance uponDublin, until he receives certain news that we have moved away, and thathe will not have to fight another battle for the possession of the city. Should you hear that William's troops have arrived in the town, you willof course make a detour, so as to avoid it, on your way to rejoin us; andnow I will write a letter, at once, for you to take to your mother. "

As soon as it was dark, Walter mounted and started for Bray, where hearrived without molestation on the way. His arrival was an immense reliefto the ladies, who had been suffering an agony of suspense since the newsof the battle had reached them. King James's hurried arrival, and panicflight to Waterford, had caused the most alarming reports as to thebattle to circulate throughout the country, and by many it was supposedthat his army had been utterly destroyed. Walter's arrival, then, withthe news that his father, as well as himself, had passed through the dayunhurt, was an immense relief; and they were grateful to learn that, sofar from having been routed, the Irish army had accomplished its object, of fighting the battle and then falling back in perfect order and withoutmolestation. 

"Father says, mother, that he believes next time, when we shall be nolonger hampered by the interference of the king, we shall be able to makeeven a better fight of it, especially if, as we all hope, the Frenchofficers will follow the king's example and take themselves off. "

"How long are you going to stay, Walter?"

"I shall stay over tomorrow, mother, and start next morning early. Iought to be able to come up to the army before night, but, if not, Ishall overtake them on the march next day. "

"I wish I was older, " Godfrey, who had been listening to the account ofthe battle, said. "It is so hard to have to stay at home here, while youand father are having such fun!"

"You would not think it was fun, if you were with us, Godfrey, " Waltersaid. "I used to think it would be fun, but I don't think so now. Justwhile the fighting is going on, one is so excited that one doesn't thinkof the danger, but when it is over, it is awful to see the gaps in theranks, and to know that so many of those who were riding with you havefallen, and that it may be your turn, next time. "

"Ah, it's all very well for you to talk, Walter, because you are goingthrough it all, but you would think just the same as I do, if you were inmy place. "

"That is true enough, Godfrey. Anyhow, I am glad you are not old enough. I don't mean that I should not like to have you with us, but then therewould be nobody at home with mother. Now, if anything happens to fatherand me, she has got you, and as you grow up you will be able to lookafter her, and take care of her. It is bad enough for her having two ofus in the war. It would be worse, still, if there were three. "

As, the next evening, Walter heard that there was news that William'stroops had not yet moved from the Boyne, he thought that it was safe totake the direct road through Dublin. He had laid aside his uniform, onreaching home, and in the morning started in his civilian clothes, withthe uniform in the valise, strapped behind the saddle. He carried hissword, as usual, for almost all gentlemen at that time rode armed, andthis would therefore excite neither comment nor attention. He carriedalso a brace of pistols, in a belt underneath his coat. 

On arriving in Dublin, he found the greatest uproar and excitementprevailing. Mobs of men were marching through the streets, smashing thewindows of Catholics and sacking the houses. Fortunately, he was warned, before he got into the thick of the tumult, by meeting some women runningand crying loudly. He asked what was the matter, and learned that theirhouses had been sacked, and that any Catholic found in the street wasbeing beaten and ill treated. As Walter was anxious to avoid anythingwhich might arrest his journey westward, he made his way out of the town, as soon as possible, and was heartily glad when he reached the outskirts, and gave rein to his horse. 

He passed many groups of people as he rode. Some were Protestants, makingtheir way to Dublin to join in the greeting to William and his army, ontheir arrival. Others were Catholics, afraid to remain in their abodesnow that the army had retired west, and journeying to the capital, wherethey believed that William would prevent disorder and pillage. It neededno inquiry, as to the religion of the respective groups. The Protestantswere for the most part men, and these came along shouting and wavingtheir weapons, wild with exultation over the triumph of their cause. TheCatholics were of all ages and both sexes. Many of them had carts, andwere carrying with them their most valued possessions. All wore anexpression of grief and anxiety. 

As Walter rode into one village, a fray was going on. A party ofProtestants, riding boisterously along, had knocked down a woman with achild in her arms, and had answered the angry remonstrance of thepeasants with jeers and laughter. Stones had begun to fly. TheProtestants had drawn their swords; the villagers had caught up hoes, spades, and other weapons, and a fierce fight was going on. The women, with shrill cries, encouraged the peasants, and aided them by hurlingstones at the rioters. Walter saw that his interference would be of noavail, and, with a heavy heart at the bitter hatred which the two partiesin Ireland exhibited for each other, he turned from the road, made acircuit round the village, and continued his way. After that, he avoidedall towns and villages, and slept at night in the cabin of a peasant, lying some little distance from the road. The following day he againpressed on, and before evening overtook the retiring army. 

On the arrival of King William with his army in Dublin, a proclamationwas issued assuring all, save those who resisted his authority, of hisprotection, and threatening severity against those who disturbed thepeace or committed outrage on personal property. Letters of protectionwere granted to all who applied for them and, hearing this, JabezWhitefoot at once went into Dublin, to apply for protection for thefamily of Captain Davenant. On hearing, however, that no persecution ofCatholics would be allowed, and that the army was likely to march west, at once, in pursuit of the Irish, he thought it better to leave thematter alone, as his application would only draw the attention of theauthorities to the fact of Captain Davenant and his son being engaged inthe hostile army. He felt sure that the ladies need fear no molestation, save from the soldiers or Northerners, as his own influence with theProtestants of his neighbourhood would suffice to prevent these frominterfering with the household at the castle. 

The Irish army marched towards the Shannon, and were concentrated part inthe neighbourhood of Athlone, and part at Limerick. William shortlyprepared to follow them. He, too, divided his army into two columns. Themain body, under his own command, took the road to Limerick; while theother division, consisting of five regiments of cavalry and twelve ofinfantry, was despatched, under the command of General Douglas, for thepurpose of investing the fortress of Athlone. 

As the armies marched west, their path was marked by wholesale outrageand destruction. Although protections were granted to the peasants andinhabitants of the towns and villages through which the armies marched, they were entirely disregarded by the soldiers, who plundered, ill used, and sometimes murdered the defenceless people, carrying away withoutpayment all provisions on which they could lay their hands. 

The king sometimes hanged those who were caught in these acts of plunderand slaughter, but this had but little effect. The Dutch soldiers, alone, maintained their order and discipline. The foreign mercenaries, composedfor the most part of the sweepings of the great cities, behaved with abrutality and cruelty almost without example, and which was acknowledgedby all the historians of the time, Protestant as well as Catholic. Indeed, the Protestant inhabitants suffered even more than the Catholics, for many of the latter fled at the approach of the army, while theProtestants, regarding them as friends and deliverers, remained quietlyat home, and suffered every insult and outrage at the hands of this hordeof savages, who were perfectly indifferent as to the religion of thosethey plundered. 

Captain Davenant's troop was with the force which had retired to Athlone, and there awaited the approach of the column of General Douglas. Thereports of the conduct of the enemy, that were brought in by the flyingpeasants, filled the Irish troops with indignation and rage, and when, onarriving before the town, General Douglas sent a messenger to demand itssurrender, Colonel Grace, who commanded, only replied by firing a pistoltowards him. 

Athlone stood on either side of the Shannon. The town on the eastern bankof the river was called "the English town, " that on the western "theIrish "--a distinction existing in many of the Irish towns, where theearly English settlers found it expedient to live apart from the Irish, for mutual protection against attack. Colonel Grace had retired to thewest bank of the river, which was strongly fortified, destroying theEnglish town and breaking down part of the bridge across the river. 

The garrison consisted of three regiments of foot and nine troops ofhorse; and when Douglas erected his batteries and opened fire on thecastle, they replied briskly, and their guns got the better of those inthe batteries. A strong detachment of horse and mounted grenadiers wassent by Douglas to Lanesborough, some miles north of the town, withorders to pass the river at that point, but the post was held by Irishtroops, who easily repulsed the attempt. 

It was next proposed to pass the river at a ford a short distance fromthe bridge; but the troops had little heart for the enterprise, as theford was covered by field works erected by the Irish. 

The assailants were already reduced to considerable straits. They hadconsumed all provisions found in the town, plundering without mercy theProtestant inhabitants, who had been well treated by the Irish troops, while the conduct of the army effectually deterred the country peoplefrom bringing in provisions. 

The circulation of the report that General Sarsfield, with fifteenthousand men, was on the march to cut off the besiegers of Athlone, determined General Douglas to make a speedy retreat. In his fear of beingcut off, he abandoned all his heavy baggage, and, quitting the high road, made his way by unfrequented routes, which added to the hardships of themarch. In its retreat, the column was accompanied by the unhappyProtestant inhabitants, who feared to remain behind, lest the Irishshould retaliate upon them the sufferings which had been inflicted upontheir countrymen. 

In the meantime, the main English army had done but little. In Dublin, acommission had been appointed to examine into and forfeit the lands ofall Catholics, and adherents of King James, and having set this machineat work, the king proceeded with his army southward through Carlow, Kilkenny, and Waterford, all of which places surrendered, the garrisonsbeing allowed to march out, with their arms and baggage, to join theirmain army on the Shannon. 

At Waterford, the king received such serious news as to the state ofthings in England, that he determined to return home. On arriving atDublin, he was overwhelmed with petitions from the inhabitants, as to theshameful conduct of the troops left in garrison there, especially thoseof Trelawney's, Schomberg's, and some other regiments of horse, who, thepeople complained, treated them, although Protestants, far worse thanJames's Catholic soldiers had done. Inquiry showed these complaints to bewell founded, and, finding it impossible to restore order and disciplineamong them, the king at once sent these regiments back to England. 

Then, receiving better news from home, he again started to rejoin hisarmy, and marched towards Limerick, being joined on his way by thedivision under Douglas, which had driven along with them all the cattleand horses of the country through which they had passed. 

Limerick was, at that time, the second city in Ireland. The country, fora long distance along the mouth of the Shannon, was much wooded, but inthe immediate vicinity of the town it was surrounded by thick inclosures, houses, orchards, gardens, and plantations. The cultivated land waseverywhere divided into small fields, inclosed by hedges and intersectedby lanes. To the east of the town the Shannon divides itself, forming anisland on which part of the city is situated. 

This was called the English town, and was connected by a bridge, calledThomond Bridge, with the Clare side of the river on the north; and on thesouth, by another bridge, with the Irish town on the county of Limerickside. The Thomond Bridge was defended by a strong fort and some fieldworks on the Clare side, and on the city side by a drawbridge, flanked bytowers and the city walls. The bridge was very long and narrow. 

The position of the English town was, indeed, almost impregnable. It wasbuilt upon a rock of considerable extent, and the land outside the wallswas low and marshy, and could at any time be flooded. The Shannon wasbroad and rapid. The Irish town on the Limerick shore was not strong, being defended only by ordinary walls. If this were captured, however, the English town could still hold out. 

The king made his approaches to the city slowly, being obliged to levelthe numerous inclosures as he moved on. These were occupied by the Irishinfantry, who, lining every hedge, kept up a galling fire, falling backgradually as heavy bodies of troops were brought up against them, untilthey reached the cover of the guns of the city and fort. Upon theseopening fire, William's army halted and encamped before the Irish town. 

Here, as at the Boyne, the king had a narrow escape, a cannonball fromthe walls striking the ground at his foot as he was passing through a gapin a hedge. 

The king had learned that great dissensions existed between the Irish andFrench, and relied upon this, as much as upon the strength of his arms, to obtain possession of the city. His information was, indeed, correct. King James, in his flight, had left no orders as to who should assume thesupreme command. The Duke of Berwick had considerable claims. Lauzun andthe French officers declined altogether to receive orders fromTyrconnell, and the Irish officers equally objected to act under thecommand of a Frenchman. Consequently, during the whole siege, the mainIrish army, which, by acting upon William's rear, could speedily havemade his position untenable, remained inactive. Monsieur Boileau, aFrench officer, was governor of the town, but Lauzun, having examined thefortifications, pronounced the place wholly incapable of defence, declaring that the walls could be knocked down with roasted apples, andso ordered the entire French division to march to Galway, and there awaitan opportunity for embarking for France, leaving the Irish to defend thecity if they chose. 

Lauzun, in fact, was a courtier, not a soldier. He desired to get back toVersailles at any hazard, and had so inspired his officers and men withhis own sentiments that there was a general cry among them to be recalledto France. They had, indeed, no interest in the cause in which theyfought. They looked with contempt at their half-armed and half-trainedallies, and they grumbled continually at the hardships which they had toundergo. It was indeed an evil day, for King James's cause, when heexchanged Mountcashel's fine division for these useless allies, who, throughout the war, not only did no service, but were the cause ofendless dissension and disaster. 

As soon as King William had taken up his position in front of Limerick, he sent a summons to Boileau to surrender. The latter consulted withTyrconnell, Sarsfield, and some other officers, for, even to the lastmoment, it was a question whether the place should be defended. 

At last, however, a decision was made. The reply was addressed toWilliam's secretary, Sir Robert Roultwell, as Boileau could notacknowledge the prince as king, and was too polite to hurt his feelingsby a denial of the royal title. He expressed great surprise at thesummons he had received, and said that he hoped to merit the good opinionof the Prince of Orange better by a vigorous defence, than by a shamefulsurrender, of the fortress which had been committed to his charge by hismaster King James the Second. 

The king's camp was now formed in regular order; he himself taking hisplace on its right, having near him the Horse Guards, and the Blue DutchGuards, who were always his main reliance. To the left of these were theEnglish and Dutch regiments, further on the French and Danes, while theBrandenburghers and other German regiments formed the extreme left of theline. To their great satisfaction, the post assigned to the Danes was oneof the rude circular redoubts called, in Ireland, Danish forts, andprobably constructed by their own far-off ancestors. 

Chapter 9: Pleasant Quarters. 

After the termination of the short siege of Athlone, the troop of CaptainDavenant were despatched to join the army near Limerick, and, on theirarrival there, were ordered to take up their quarters at the house of aProtestant gentleman named Conyers, four miles from the town on theLimerick side of the river. 

It was a mansion of considerable size, standing in large grounds, for itsproprietor was one of the largest landowners in the county of Limerick, his grandfather having been a colonel in one of Cromwell's regiments. Mr. Conyers himself had gone to Dublin, upon the passing of the actsequestrating the property of all the Protestants by James's parliament, to endeavour to obtain a remission of the decree, so far as it concernedhis house and adjoining grounds. As he had influential friends there, hehad remained, urging his petition, until the battle of the Boyne and theentry of King William into Dublin entirely changed the position. But hethen, owing to the disturbance of the country, and the fact that theIrish army had retired to Limerick, found it impossible to return home. He had, however, travelled with William's army, to which he was able togive much useful information regarding the defences, and details of thecountry round the town. 

As Captain Davenant's troop rode up to the house, a lady, with a girl ofsome sixteen years old, appeared at the door. Both looked very pale, forthey feared that the brutal conduct of which they had heard, of William'sarmy, would be followed by reprisals on the part of the Irish. They weresomewhat reassured, however, by Captain Davenant's manner as that officerdismounted, raised his hat, and said:

"Madam, I have received orders to quarter my troop in the house, but I amanxious, I can assure you, to cause as little inconvenience and annoyanceas possible, under the circumstances. "

"We are only women here, sir, " Mrs. Conyers said. "The house is at yourdisposal. I myself and my daughter will move to the gardener's cottage, and I trust that you will give orders to your men that we shall be freefrom molestation there. "

"I could not think of disturbing you in that manner, " Captain Davenantsaid. "I myself have a wife and mother alone at home, and will gladlytreat you with the same courtesy which I trust they will receive. Allowme, in the first place, to introduce to you my lieutenant, Mr. O'Moore, and my cornet, who is also my son, Walter. I see that you have extensivestables and outbuildings. I am sure that my men, who are all goodfellows, and many of them the sons of farmers, will make themselves verycomfortable in these. I myself, and my two officers, will quarterourselves in the gardener's cottage you speak of. "

"You are good, indeed, sir, " Mrs. Conyers said gratefully; "but I couldnot think of allowing you to do that, and shall indeed be pleased, if youand your officers will take up your residence here as my guests. "

"I thank you kindly; but that I could not do. My men will be well contentwith the outhouses, if they see that we are content with the cottage; butthey might not be so, if they saw that we took up our quarters in thehouse. Therefore, if you will allow me, I will carry out my own plan; butI need not say that we shall be very pleased to visit you in the house, at such times as may be agreeable to you. "

After expressing their grateful thanks, Mrs. Conyers and her daughterwithdrew into the house. Captain Davenant then addressed a few words tohis men. 

"The house will not hold you all, lads, and there are only ladies here, and I am sure you would not wish to disturb and annoy them by crowdingtheir house. Therefore, I have arranged that you shall take up yourquarters in the outhouses, and that we shall occupy a little cottage onthe grounds. I hope, lads, that, for the honour of the country and thecause, all will behave as peacefully and quietly as if in our own homes. It would be a poor excuse that, because William's soldiers are behavinglike wild beasts, we should forget the respect due to lonely women. "

A fortnight was spent here pleasantly for all. The first alarm past, Mrs. Conyers felt safer than she had done for months. Ever since the troubleshad began, she had felt the loneliness of her position as a Protestant, and she would have, long before, made her way with her daughter toDublin, had it not been that she thought that, so long as she continuedin the house, it might be respected by the Catholic peasantry, while, were she to desert it, it would probably be plundered, perhaps burned tothe ground. Still, the position was a very trying one, especially sincethe Jacobite army began to gather in force round Limerick. 

She now felt that her troubles were comparatively over. The troops causedno annoyance, and she heard but little of them, while she found inCaptain Davenant and his officers pleasant guests. The troops, on theirpart, were well satisfied. Mrs. Conyers gave instructions that they wereto be supplied with all they needed, and their rations of bread and meatwere supplemented with many little comforts and luxuries from the house. 

While Mrs. Conyers entertained the two elder officers, Walter naturallyfell to the share of her daughter, and the two soon became great friends, wandering in the grounds, and sometimes riding together when Walter wasnot engaged with the troop. The news came daily of the movements ofWilliam's army, and when it approached, Captain Davenant's troop went farout to observe its movements, and obtain an accurate idea of itsstrength. 

It was late in the evening when they returned, and Captain Davenant saidat supper:

"This is our last meal with you, Mrs. Conyers. We leave at daybreak, anda few hours afterwards William's army will arrive before Limerick. Weshall be the losers, but you will be the gainer if, as you suppose, Mr. Conyers is with them. "

"I shall be really sorry for your going, Captain Davenant. It seemed aterrible thing having a troop of hostile horse quartered upon one; but inreality it has been a pleasant operation, rather than not, and I havefelt safer than I have done for months. I do hope that when thesetroubles are over we shall renew our acquaintance, and that you will givemy husband an opportunity of thanking you for the kindness with which youhave treated us. "

"The thanks should be on my side, " Captain Davenant said. "You have madewhat promised to be an unpleasant duty a most pleasant one. Our stay herehas been like a visit at a friend's, and I regret deeply that it has tocome to an end, a regret which I am sure Lieutenant O'Moore and my sonshare. "

"We do, indeed, " the lieutenant said. 

Walter and Claire Conyers said nothing. They had talked it over earlythat morning before the troop started, and Walter had expressed his deepregret that their pleasant time was at an end; and, although the girl hadsaid little, she was far less bright and happy than might have beenexpected, considering that upon the following day she should probably seeher father. 

Captain Davenant's troop rode off at daybreak, kept down the Shannon toLimerick, and, crossing the bridge, entered the city, and received ordersthere to take up their quarters in a village some four miles up theriver. Thus, they were less than a mile distant from Mrs. Conyers' house, although separated from it by the Shannon; and from an eminence near thevillage, the roof and chimneys of the mansion could be seen rising abovethe trees by which it was surrounded. 

During the day, the sound of the firing before Limerick could be plainlyheard; but little attention was paid to it, for it was certain that noattack could be made in earnest upon the town, until the batteringartillery came up, and there was but little hope that the cavalry wouldbe called up for any active service at present. 

After dinner, Walter strolled out to the eminence, and looked acrosstowards the house where he had spent so happy a time, and wonderedwhether Mr. Conyers had by this time arrived, and whether, in thepleasure of his coming, all thought of the late visitors had beenforgotten. Presently Larry sauntered up, and took a seat on a wall a fewpaces away. Larry was a general favourite in the troop. He did not ridein its ranks, but accompanied it in the capacity of special servant ofWalter, and as general attendant to the three officers. 

"We had a good time of it, yer honour, " he said presently. 

Walter turned round sharply, for he had not heard him approach. 

"We had, Larry, " he said, with a smile. "We shall find it rougher worknow. "

"We shall, yer honour. 

"I was thinking to myself, " he said, confidentially, "that if you mightbe wanting to send a bit of a letter, it's meself could easily make aboat, with some osiers and the skin of that bullock we had given us forthe rations of the troops today. "

"Send a letter, Larry! Who should I be sending a letter to?"

"Sure yer honour knows better than me. I thought maybe you would beliking to let the young lady know how we're getting on now, and to findout whether her father has come home, and how things are going. Yerhonour will excuse me, but it just seemed natural that you should bewishing to send a line; and a sweeter young lady never trod the sod. "

Walter could not help laughing at the gleam of quiet humour in Larry'sface. 

"I don't know, lad. You have pretty well guessed my thoughts; but itcan't be. The opposite bank will be swarming with William's men--it wouldbe a most dangerous business. No, it's not to be thought of. "

"Very well, yer honour, it's just as you like; but you have only got tohand me a bit of paper, and give me a wink of your eye, and I will do it. As to William's sodgers, it's little I fear them; and if all one hears oftheir doings be true, and I had a pretty young creature a mile away fromme, with those blackguards round about her, it's anxious I should be fora line from her hand;" and Larry got down from his seat, and began towalk away towards the village. 

Walter stood silent for a moment. 

"Wait, Larry, " he said. 

Larry turned, with a look of surprise upon his face. 

"Come here, " Walter said impatiently. "Of course I am anxious--though Idon't know how you could have guessed it. "

"Sure yer honour, " Larry said with an innocent look, "when a gentlemanlike yourself is for ever walking and riding with a purty colleen, itdon't need much guessing to suppose that you would be worrying after her, with such creatures as the Northerners and the furreners in herneighbourhood. "

"And you seriously think you could take a letter across to her, Larry?"

"Sure and I could, yer honour. The nights are dark, and I could getacross the river widout a sowl being the wiser, and make my way to thestables, and give it to one of the boys, who will put it in the hands ofBridget, Miss Claire's own maid; and I could go back, next night, for theanswer. "

"But if you can do it, I can, " Walter said. 

"What would be the good, yer honour? It's only the outside of the houseyou would see, and not the young lady. Besides, there's a lot more riskin your doing it than there is with me. You are an officer of the king's, and if you were caught on that side of the river, it's mighty littletrial they'd give you before they run you up to the bough of a tree, orput a bullet into you. With me, it's different. I am just a country boygoing to see my cousin Pat Ryan, who works in the stables at the house. Pat would give me a character, no fear. "

"Well, I will think of it, " Walter said. 

"And I will get the boat ready at once, your honour. A few sticks and agreen hide will make a boat fit for Dublin Bay, to say nothing ofcrossing a smooth bit of water like this. "

After Larry had left him, Walter walked up and down for some time. He hadcertainly thought, vaguely, that he should like Claire Conyers to knowthat he was still within sight of her house; but the possibility ofsending her word had not occurred to him, until his follower suggestedit. Larry's suggestion of possible danger to her made him uneasy. Even ifher father was with the king, and had already returned home, he wouldfrequently be absent in the camp, and who could tell but some band ofplunderers might visit the house in his absence! The Protestants had beenplundered and ill-used by William's men round Athlone, and might be here. It would certainly be well to know what was going on across the water. 

After the kindness they had received, surely it would be only civil tolet the Conyers know where they were posted. At any rate, Claire couldnot be offended at his writing; besides, he might arrange some plan bywhich he might get news from Larry's friend, Pat Ryan. 

As he went down to the village he heard roars of laughter, and, passing acottage, saw Larry with five or six of the troopers round him. Larry wasseated on the ground, making a framework in the shape of a saucer fourfeet in diameter. 

"And what are you wanting a boat for, Larry?"

"Sure, I am mighty fond of fishing, " Larry said. "Didn't you know that?"

"I know you are a fisherman at home, Larry; but if it's fishing you want, there are two large boats hauled up on the bank. "

"They are too big, " Larry said. "I should want half a dozen men to launchthem, and then you would want to go with me, and the bare sight of youwould be enough to frighten away all the fish in the Shannon. But I willhave a look at the boats. The captain might want a party to cross theriver, and it's as well to see that they are in good order, and have gotthe oars and thole pins handy. I will see to them myself, for there arenot half a dozen of ye know one end of the boat from the other. "

When Walter reached his quarters, he at once sat down to write. Aftermany attempts he finished one as follows:

"Dear Miss Conyers:

"After the kindness shown to us by Mrs. Conyers and yourself, I feel surethat you will like to know where we are posted. We are at Ballygan, justacross the Shannon opposite to your house, and I can see your roof from aspot fifty yards from the village. It seems a pleasure to me to be soclose, even though we are as much divided as if there were the seabetween us. 

"I hope that Mr. Conyers has returned, and that you will have no troublewith William's troops, whose reputation for good behaviour is not of thebest. I hope that, now that you are among your friends, you have notquite forgotten us, and that you will let me have a line to say how youare, and how things are going on with you. My boy Larry is going to takethis across, and will call tomorrow night for an answer, if you are goodenough to send one. "

"When will your boat be finished, Larry?" he asked his follower, as thelatter came in, just as it was getting dusk. 

"She will be finished tomorrow. The framework is done, and I could make ashift, if your honour wished, just to fasten the skin on so that it wouldtake me tonight. "

"If you could, I would rather, Larry. "

"All right, your honour!" Larry said, with a slight smile. "Two hours'work will do it. "

"I know where you are making it, Larry, and will come round when I go toinspect sentries, at eleven o'clock. We shall post ten men, a quarter ofa mile apart, on the bank, and I will give orders for them to look outfor you. The word will be 'Wicklow;' so when you come across they willshout to you, 'Who comes there?' You say, 'Wicklow;' and it will be allright. "

At the hour he had named, Walter went round for Larry, who was working bythe light of a torch stuck in the ground. 

"I have just finished it, yer honour; but I was obliged to stop till theboys got quiet; they were so mighty inquisitive as to what I was in sucha hurry about, that I had to leave it alone for a while. "

"Look here, Larry, here is the letter, but that's not the principalreason why I am sending you across. You will give it to Pat Ryan, as yousuggested, to pass on through Bridget to Miss Conyers; but I want you toarrange with him that he shall, tomorrow, get some dry sticks puttogether on the bank opposite, with some straw, so that he can make ablaze in a minute. Then do you arrange with him that, if any parties ofWilliam's troops come to the house in the absence of Mr. Conyers, andthere should seem likely to be trouble, he is to run as hard as he candown to the river. If it is day, he is to wave a white cloth on a stick. If it is night, he is to light the fire. Tell him to arrange with Bridgetto run at once to him and tell him, if there is trouble in the house, for, as he is in the stables, he may not know what is going on inside. 

"I have been looking at those boats. They will carry fifteen men each ata pinch; and if the signal is made, we shall not be long in gettingacross. Pat would only have about half a mile to run. We will get theboats down close to the water's edge, and it won't take us many minutesto get across. Anyhow, in twenty minutes from the time he starts, wemight be there. "

"That will be a moighty good plan, yer honour. Now, if you will go downto the water with me, I will be off at once. I sha'n't be away half anhour; and I can slip up into the loft where Pat sleeps, and not a sowl bethe wiser, if there was a regiment of William's troops about the house. "

"All right, Larry! I shall wait here for you till you get back. "

Larry raised the light craft and put it on his head. He had made a coupleof light paddles, by nailing two pieces of wood on to mop sticks. 

Walter accompanied him to the water's edge, and told the sentry therethat Larry was crossing the river on business, and would return in halfan hour's time, and that he was not to challenge loudly when he saw himreturning. 

The night was dark, and Walter soon lost sight of the little boat. Thenhe waited anxiously. He had, however, but little fear that the enemywould have posted sentries so far down the river, especially as he wouldonly just have pitched his camp opposite Limerick. 

It was three-quarters of an hour before he heard a faint splash in thewater. The sentry heard it, too. 

"Shall I challenge, sir?"

"No. Wait for a minute. We shall soon see whether it is Larry. Shouldthere be anyone on the opposite bank, he might hear the challenge, andthey would keep a sharp lookout in future. "

The sound came nearer and nearer. 

"Who goes there?" Walter said in a quiet voice. 

"'Wicklow!' and it's mighty glad I am to hear your voice, for it's sodark I began to think I had lost myself entirely. "

"Is all well, Larry?" Walter asked, as the light boat touched the bank. 

"All is well, your honour, " Larry said, stepping ashore, and lifting thelight boat on to his head. 

"You had better stow it away close here, Larry, till the morning. It's sodark that you will be sure to pitch over something, if you go further. 

"Now, tell me all about it, " he went on, as Larry stowed away the boatamong some bushes. 

"There is little enough to tell, yer honour. I just rowed across andlanded, and made straight for the house. Everything was quiet and still. I went round to the stables, and up into the loft where Pat sleeps. 

"'Are you there, Pat Ryan, ' says I?

"'Who is it calls Pat Ryan?' says he. 

"'It's myself, Larry, Mr. Davenant's boy. '

"'Why, I thought you had gone, ' says he. 'Are you sure it's yourself?'says he. 

"'And who else should it be, Pat Ryan? Don't yer know my voice?'

"By this time I had got into the corner where he slept, and touched him. 

"'I am glad to feel you, Larry, ' says he, 'for I wasn't sure that youhadn't fallen in with the troopers, and it wasn't your ghost that come tovisit me. '

"'Whist, ' says I, 'I have no time to waste upon ye. The master and thetroops are stationed just across the river, at Ballygan. Mr. Davenant hasgiven me a letter for Miss Conyers, telling her all about it. I don'texactly know what he said, and maybe she would like it given privately, so do you hand it to Bridget in the morning, and ask her to give it toher mistress, and to hand over to you any answer there may be. I willcome across for it tomorrow night. But that's not all, Pat. You know thedevil's work that William's men have been carrying on, on the march. '

"'Av course, everyone has heard the tales of the villains' doings, Larry. '

"'Well, the young master is mighty anxious about it, as you may guess. Has Mr. Conyers come?'

"'Yes. He rode in at four this afternoon. '

"'Well, Mr. Davenant says you will all be safe as long as he's here, butmaybe that at some time, when he's away, you may have a troop of thesevillains of the world ride in here, and little they care whether it'sProtestants or Catholics that they plunder. So, if they come here andbegin their devilries, you run for your life down to the river, oppositeBallygan, with a white cloth or a shirt, if it's daytime, and wave it. You are to have a pile of sticks and straw ready, and, if it's night, yewill just set it in a blaze, and there will be help over before manyminutes. You stop there till they come, to tell them how strong the enemyare. 

"'The master says you are to tell Bridget about it, so that, if theymisbehave themselves inside the house, she can slip out and let you know. You understand that?'

"'I do, ' says he; 'and its a comfort to me, for it's fretting I have beenover what might happen, if a troop of those murderin' villains were tocome here, and not a sowl save me and the other boys to take the part ofthe mistress and Miss Claire. '

"'Well, you know now, Pat, what's to be done, and see you do it; and nowI must go, for the master is waiting for me. I will be with you tomorrownight for the answer. '

"And so I came back, and I lost ten minutes looking about for the boat, for it was so mighty dark that I could not see a fut. I kicked against itand very near fell over it. It's well I didn't, for I should have knockedit into smithereens, entirely!"

"Capital, Larry! you couldn't have done better. Now I shall feelcomfortable. "

After breakfast, Walter told his father of the mission on which he hadsent Larry, and the arrangement he had made with Pat Ryan. 

"You ought to have told me at first, Walter. I do not blame you, but youshould not do things on your own responsibility. "

"But so far, father, it has not been a regimental affair. I simply sentmy own boy with a note to Miss Conyers, just to say where we were; but, as it may be an affair in which some of the troop may have to act, I havetold you about it, so that you can make what arrangements you like. "

"It's rather a fine distinction, Walter, " his father said, smiling. "Itseems to me that you have engaged us to send a detachment across theriver, in case of trouble at Mrs. Conyers'. However, I heartily agreewith you that our kind friends should be protected from injury andinsult. 

"How many will the boats hold?"

"Thirteen or fourteen men each. "

"Very well, then. I authorize you, at any time, if I am away with aportion of the troop, to take twenty-five men across if the signal ismade. If I am here I shall, of course, go over myself. You can take anymeasures of preparation you may think necessary. "

Walter availed himself of the permission, and at once gave orders to thesentry posted on the river, in front of the village, that if a white flagwas waved by day, or a fire lit by night on the opposite bank, he was toshout loudly and fire his pistol, and that these orders were to be passedon to the sentry who succeeded him at the post. Then he picked outtwenty-five men, and told them that, at any time in the night or day, ifthey heard a shot fired by the sentry they were to seize their arms, rushdown to the boats, launch them and take their places, and wait fororders. He told them to sleep without removing any of their clothes, soas to be ready for instant action. 

The next night, Larry again crossed and brought back a little note fromClaire Conyers, thanking Walter for letting her know they were so close, telling him of her father's return, and saying that there was no fear ofher mother or herself forgetting their late visitors. It was a prettilywritten little note, and Walter was delighted at receiving it. 

"Well, my boy, " Captain Davenant said with a little smile, when Waltertold him next morning that he had heard from Miss Conyers, "as you seemspecially interested in this affair, I will let you have the honour andglory of being the first to come to the rescue of Miss Conyers and hermother, if they should need it; and therefore, whether I am here or not, I give you permission to cross at once, in the two boats, if you get thesignal. But on reaching the other side you are to send the two boats backat once, with two men in each, and I will bring the rest of the troopacross as fast as possible. There is no saying what force you may findthere. I shall leave it to your discretion to attack at once, or to waituntil I come up with reinforcements. You will, of course, be guidedpartly by the strength of the enemy, partly by the urgency for instantinterference for the protection of the ladies. "

Four days passed quietly. There was but little for the cavalry to do. Small parties were posted at various spots, for some miles down theriver, to give notice should the enemy appear on the opposite bank andshow any intention of making a crossing; and, beyond furnishing theseguards, the troop had little to do. 

Walter spent much of his time watching the opposite bank. He hardly knewwhether he wished the signal to be displayed or not--he certainly desiredno trouble to befall the ladies; but, on the other hand, the thought ofrushing to their rescue was undoubtedly a pleasant one. Larry spent muchof his time at the water's edge, fishing--a pursuit in which many of thetroopers joined; and they were able to augment the daily rations by agood supply of salmon. 

On the fifth day, the officers had just finished supper, when the soundof a pistol shot was heard. Walter leaped from his seat, snatched up hissword and pistols, and ran down to the river. The men were alreadyclustering round the boats. A minute later these were in the water, andthe men jumped on board. They too were eager for the work, for Larry hadwhispered among them that, if the signal was made, it would signify thata band of the enemy's marauders were at Mrs. Conyers'; and all had beenso kindly treated there that they were eager to repay the treatment theyhad received. Besides, there was not a man in the Irish army whose hearthad not been fired at the recitals of the brutality of the enemy, andfilled with deep longings for vengeance upon the perpetrators of thedeeds. 

Walter counted the men as they rowed across, and was pleased to find thatnot one of them was missing. He ordered the two men who were at the oarsin each boat to return, the instant the rest had landed, to fetch anotherdetachment across. 

As they reached the land, the men sprang out. Pat Ryan was standing atthe landing place. 

"Well, Pat, what is it?"

"A troop of Hessian horse, your honour. Half an hour ago they rode up tothe doors. Mrs. Conyers came out to meet them, and told them that she wasa loyal Protestant, and wife of a gentleman high in the king's councils, who was in the camp. The blackguards only laughed. The officers, withsome of the men, dismounted and pushed their way past her into the house, and the rest of the troop tied their horses up to the trees on the lawn, and shouted to me, and some of the other boys who were looking on, tobring forage. I suppose we weren't quick enough for them, for one of themdrew his pistol and fired at me. Fortunately, he only hit the truss ofstraw I was carrying. Then I went round to the back door, where I hadagreed that Bridget was to come to me, if things were going wrong in thehouse. A few minutes afterwards she came out, with a white face, andsaid: 'For the sake of the Holy Virgin, run for your life, Pat, and warnthe soldiers!' So I slipped away and ran my hardest. "

All this was told as the party were running at full speed towards thehouse. 

"How strong was the troop?" Walter asked. 

"About eighty men, yer honour. "

"We must trust to a surprise, " Walter said. "We can get round to the backof the house without being seen. If we burst in there suddenly, we canclear the house and hold it till my father comes up with the wholetroop. "

Five minutes after they had left the boat, the party approached thehouse. Walter halted his men for a moment in the shrubbery behind it. 

"Steady, lads, and take breath. You will follow me into the house, andkeep together. Give no quarter to the scoundrels. "

Scarcely had he spoken than a piercing scream, accompanied by a pistolshot, was heard within. 

"Come on, lads!" Walter exclaimed, as he rushed at full speed at thedoor, the men following close at his heels. 

The door was open. In the passage lay one of the maidservants, shotthrough the head by one of the Hessian troopers, who still held thepistol in his hand. Walter's pistol cracked before the man had time todraw his sword, and he fell dead. 

Then he rushed on into the hall, in which were a score of troopers, gathered round a barrel of wine which had just been broached. In aninstant, the Irish were upon them. Many were cut down or shot, beforethey had time to stand on the defensive. The rest were slain after ashort and desperate fight. 

"Bar the front door!" Walter shouted. "Sergeant Mullins, take six men andhold it against those outside. The rest follow me. "

Short as the fight had been, it had given time to the rest of theHessians, scattered about the house in the act of plundering, to gatheron the stair, headed by their officers. Without a moment's hesitationWalter dashed at them. In point of numbers the party were well matched;but the fury of the Irishmen more than counterbalanced the advantage ofposition on the part of the Hessians. 

For five minutes a desperate fight raged. Those in front grappled eachother, and fought with clubbed pistols and shortened swords. Those behindstruck a blow as they could with sword or musket. 

But the Hessians, ignorant of the strength of the force which hadsuddenly thus attacked them, thought more of securing their safety thanof defending the stairs, so several of those behind slipped away andjumped from the windows to the ground. Their desertion disheartened thosein front, and, with a shout, Walter and his troopers bore back theHessians on to the landing, and the latter then broke and fled. Most ofthem were overtaken and cut down at once. Two or three only gained thewindows and leaped out. 

The instant resistance had ceased, Walter rushed into the drawing room, bidding the men run down and hold the lower windows. Mrs. Conyers lay ina dead faint on the sofa. Claire, with a face as pale as death, wasstanding beside her. 

"Walter!" she gasped out; "then we are safe!"

She tottered, and would have fallen, had not Walter rushed forward intime to catch her, and place her in a chair:

"Don't faint, my dear Claire, " he said urgently. "There is your mother tobe looked after, and I must run downstairs, for they are attacking thehouse. "

"I won't faint, " Claire said, laughing and crying in a manner whichfrightened Walter more than her fainting would have done. "I shall bebetter directly, but it seems almost like a miracle. Oh, those dreadfulmen!"

"They have all gone now, Claire. We hold the house, and have cleared themout. Pray, calm yourself and attend to your mother. I must go. Don't befrightened at the firing. My father will be here in a few minutes, withaid. "

"Oh! I am not frightened, now, " Claire said; "and oh! Walter, you arebleeding dreadfully. "

"Never mind that now, " Walter said; "I will see to it, when it is allover. "

Then, leaving her to look after Mrs. Conyers, he ran downstairs. Hisright arm was disabled, he having received a sweeping blow on theshoulder from one of the Hessians, as he won his way on to the landing;but he had no time to think of this now, for his men were hardly pressed. For a moment, a panic had reigned among the troopers outside, at theoutburst of firing, and at the sight of their comrades leapingpanic-stricken from the windows; but inquiry soon showed them that theywere still greatly superior in numbers to the party who had obtainedpossession of the hall; and, furious at the loss of all their officers, and of many of their comrades, they attacked on all sides, and tried toforce their way in at the doors and lower windows, in spite of thevigorous resistance from within. Walter hurried from point to point, cheering on his men by assurance that help was at hand, and seeing thatno point had been left undefended. 

Chapter 10: A Cavalry Raid. 

Staunchly as Walter's troopers maintained the defence, they were sorelypressed, for the enemy still outnumbered them by three to one. Severaltimes the Hessians almost forced their way in, at one or other of thewindows, but each time Walter, who kept four men with him as a reserve, rushed to the assistance of the defenders of the windows and drove themback; but this could not last. The defenders were hard pressed at severalpoints, and Walter, feeling sure that his father would be up in a veryfew minutes, called the men off from their posts and stationed them onthe staircase. 

With shouts of triumph, the Hessians burst in. The hall was filled with acrowd of furious soldiers, who hurled themselves like a wave at thedefenders of the staircase. All the pistols had long since been emptied, and they fought sword to sword. Walter had detached five of his littleparty to hold the top of the other staircase, should the assailants tryto force a passage there; and he had but ten men now, and several ofthese severely wounded, to hold the staircase. 

Great as the advantage that the position gave the defenders, they wereforced up step by step, and Walter began to fear that he would be drivento the landing before succour came, when a crowd of figures suddenlyburst in at the hall door, and above the cracking of pistols, which atonce arose, he heard his father's voice:

"Down with the murdering dogs! No quarter!"

Taken wholly by surprise, ignorant of the force by which they wereattacked, and taken between two bodies of enemies, the Hessians turned tofly. Walter and his men at once pressed down upon them, while thenewcomers fell upon them with fury. 

There was but little resistance, for the Hessians thought only of flight. Some burst through their assailants and gained the door; more fled downthe passages, and escaped by the windows through which they had entered;but more than thirty of them fell in the hall. 

The instant resistance was over, Captain Davenant ran out with his men tosecure the horses. A few of the Hessians, who had escaped from the frontdoor, had jumped on the backs of the nearest animals and ridden off. Therest had fled on foot, and the exulting troopers counted seventy-twohorses remaining in their hands. Captain Davenant at once returned to thehouse. 

"Where are you, Walter?" he shouted; but there was no answer. Gettingmore light, Captain Davenant searched hastily among the numerous bodiesscattered in the hall, and soon came upon Walter, who was lying, insensible, just at the foot of the stairs. The excitement had supportedhim so long as the defence had to be continued; but, as soon as succourappeared, and the assailants retreated, he had stumbled forward with hismen, and had fallen insensible from loss of blood at the foot of thestairs. Captain Davenant hastily examined him. 

"Thank God, " he said to Larry, who had smuggled himself over with thesecond detachment, "he has no other wound but this on the shoulder, andhas only fainted from loss of blood! Run upstairs, and snatch a sheetfrom one of the beds. We will soon make some bandages. "

Larry did as he was ordered. Slips were torn off the sheets, and, aftercutting Walter's coat and shirt from his shoulder, Captain Davenant boundand bandaged up the wound. In the meantime, Larry had got some spiritsfrom the buffet in the dining room, and a spoonful or two were poureddown Walter's throat, and in a few minutes he opened his eyes. For amoment he looked confused, then he smiled at his father. 

"You were just in time, " he said. "We couldn't have held out muchlonger. "

"Yes, we were just in time, thank God!" his father said; "but where arethe ladies?"

"In the drawing room. Mrs. Conyers has fainted. "

Captain Davenant ran upstairs. Claire had succeeded in restoring hermother, who had just sat up when Captain Davenant entered. 

"My daughter tells me that you have rescued us, you and your son, " shesaid faintly. "How can I thank you enough?"

"Never mind that now, my dear lady, " Captain Davenant said hastily. "Justat present, we have no time to lose. The fellows who have escaped willcarry the news to William's camp, and in half an hour we shall have aregiment of cavalry here. I must retreat at once, and carry my woundedwith me. What will you do? Will you stay here, or will you and yourdaughter come with us?"

"Oh, I will go with you, please. If I was sure my husband would come withthem, I would not fear; but he may not hear of it, and there is no sayingwhat they might do. "

"How is Walter, Captain Davenant?" Claire--who had been waitingimpatiently for her mother to finish--burst in. "He was wounded, andthere was such terrible fighting afterwards, and he has not come backwith you. "

"He fainted from loss of blood, " Captain Davenant said; "but I do notthink his wounds are serious. 

"Mrs. Conyers, I can only give you five minutes. Take with you any jewelsor valuables you prize most. If they should arrive without your husband, they will be sure to sack and burn the house. "

Captain Davenant now hurried downstairs. The wounded had already beencollected. There were but four so seriously wounded as to be unable towalk. Six had been killed. The wounded, including Walter, lay onblankets. Men took each a corner, and at once started to the spot wherethe boats had been left. 

Captain Davenant told four men to wait at the foot of the stairs, whilehe went up to the drawing room. Mrs. Conyers and her daughter werealready prepared. Each had thrown a shawl over her head, and had in theirhands the dressing cases containing Mrs. Conyers's jewellery. 

"Now, madam, " Captain Davenant said, "if you will point out your platechest, I have four men below in readiness to carry it to the boat. It isno use leaving that to be divided between the marauders. "

Mrs. Conyers pointed out two chests, in one of which deeds and othervaluable documents were kept, and in the other the plate, of which Mrs. Conyers had a considerable quantity. Two men seized each of them. 

"Now, Mrs. Conyers, please accompany them as quick as you can to theriver. We will follow and cover the retreat. I think we have a fewminutes yet, before cavalry can arrive from the camp. "

When Captain Davenant and the rearguard reached the bank, they found thatthe boats had already returned, after taking over the wounded and aportion of the detachment. The rest, with the two ladies and the femaleservants, at once took their places, and were taken across before anysound betokened the arrival of the enemy at the Hall. 

"I sincerely hope, Mrs. Conyers, " Captain Davenant said, as they landed, "that Mr. Conyers may accompany the first body of troops who arrive, forif not, I fear they will set fire to the Hall. They must have lostconsiderably over fifty men, and in their rage at finding no one on whomto wreak their vengeance, they will make no inquiry as to whom the housebelongs. Indeed, they will find no one there to ask. The servants of thehouse had already fled, and I sent my boy's servant, Larry, round to thestables to tell the men there to ride away with the horses. They willaccompany fifteen of my men, who mounted as many of the horses wecaptured, and are driving the rest to a ford some miles away. They are avaluable capture, and altogether, as far as we are concerned, we havemade a good night's work of it. "

"But I do not understand now, " Mrs. Conyers said, "how it was that youcame across just in time. How did you know that we were in such trouble?Because I am sure you would not have come across to attack the soldiersin our house, without some special reason?"

"No, indeed, madam, I certainly should not have made your house abattlefield. The fact is, our fortunate arrival is due entirely to myson. He made all the arrangements, without my knowing anything about it. He sent over his boy to one of your lads in the stable, and arrangedthat, if there should be any trouble in the house in the absence of Mr. Conyers, he should run down and signal across the river. Your daughter'smaid was to let the boy know what was going on within. It was not till hehad the whole business in train, that Walter told me anything about it. As it was his plan and not mine, and I could see he was extremely anxiousabout it, I left the matter in his hands, and authorized him to lead thefirst party across whenever the signal was made, night or day. Our boatswould only carry twenty-five men, and four of these had to return withthem. As Walter would have but a quarter of our force with him, I orderedhim, in case the signal was made and he crossed, not to attack until Ijoined him, unless the necessity seemed very urgent. I suppose heconsidered it was so, for he would hardly have fallen upon some eighty orninety troopers, unless he had deemed it most urgent. "

"Thank God he did so!" Mrs. Conyers said, "for we owe him our lives, andmore. I cannot tell you all now. It is too horrible to think of. But Ishall never forget the thankfulness and joy I felt, when suddenly I heardthe noise of shouts and firing, and the men who were trying to tear mychild from my arms suddenly desisted and, rushing out of the room, leftus alone. I fainted then, and knew nothing more till I heard, in aconfused way, the sound of shouting and conflict, and Claire was bendingover me, telling me that your son was holding the stairs against theGermans, and that he was expecting help to arrive every moment. 

"Where is he? I long to see him, and give him my thanks and blessing. "

"He is in that cottage yonder, which is at present our quarters, " CaptainDavenant said. "I told them to send off a trooper to Limerick, for adoctor, as soon as they got across. "

"But you assured me his wound was not dangerous, " Mrs. Conyers saidanxiously. 

"No, I am sure it is not. It is a severe wound, but not likely to haveserious consequences. But I fear that some of the men are in a far worsecondition. "

"I shall install myself as head nurse, " Mrs. Conyers said, decidedly. "Weowe so much to you all, that that is the least I can do. "

"Very well, Mrs. Conyers. Then I appoint you head of the hospital. I willhave the four seriously wounded men moved into the cottage next to mine. You will be able to obtain plenty of assistance among the women of thevillage. O'Moore and I will move into other quarters, and leave thecottage to you and your daughter. Your servants can have the cottage onthe other side. "

They had now reached the door. 

"I will just go in and see him first, " Captain Davenant said. 

Larry was sitting by Walter's couch. 

"Well, Walter, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, I am all right now, " Walter said, "since Larry brought me word thatthe boats have brought everyone across safely. I was anxious before, youknow. "

"How does your shoulder feel?"

"It throbs a bit, father; but that is no odds. "

"Mrs. Conyers is coming in to see you. She is going to establish herselfhere, and O'Moore and I are moving out. She is going, for the present, tobe head nurse. "

"That will be nice, " Walter said; "but I sha'n't want much nursing. "

"I don't know, Walter. A downright cut with a heavy cavalry sword is nota light matter, even when it falls on the shoulder instead of the head. But you had better not talk much now, but, when you have seen Mrs. Conyers, try and get off to sleep. 

"Larry, do you see to moving our things out, at once. "

So saying, Captain Davenant left the room, and a minute later Mrs. Conyers came in. She took the left hand that Walter held out to her. 

"God bless you, my boy!" she said, softly. "I shall never forget whatClaire and I owe to you. All my life I shall be your grateful debtor, andsome day I hope that my husband will be able to thank you for what youdid for us. 

"And now, " she went on, in a lighter tone, "I am going to be your nurse, and my first order is that you lie quite quiet, and try to get to sleep. I will make you some barley water, and put it by your bedside. That isall I can do for you, till the surgeon comes to examine your wound. Claire wanted to come in to thank you herself, but the child has gonethrough enough for one night, so I have sent her straight to bed. I donot want her on my hands, too. "

A few minutes later Larry, having established the two officers in anothercottage, returned and took his place by Walter's bedside, while Mrs. Conyers went out to see to the comfort of the other wounded. Half an hourlater, a surgeon arrived from Limerick. Two of the cases were pronouncedat once to be hopeless, the other two he thought might recover. Walter'swound he said was a severe one, but in no way dangerous. The sword hadprobably glanced off something as it descended, so that the edge had notfallen straight on the shoulder bone. It had, however, nearly taken offthe arm. Had it fallen truly, it would probably have been fatal. 

After he had attended to the more serious cases, he dressed the wounds ofthe other men, several of which were quite as severe as that of Walter, although they had not incapacitated the men from making their way down tothe boats. 

Captain Davenant had kept a watch towards the Hall. And as, in an hourafter they had crossed, no sheet of flame was seen arising thence, he wasable to tell Mrs. Conyers that he thought that it was safe, and thateither Mr. Conyers himself must have accompanied the troops, who would bythis time have unquestionably arrived there, or that some officer, awarethat the owner of the house was a friend, and with sufficient authorityover the men to prevent its destruction, must be in command. 

In the morning, he had a long talk with her. He suggested that she andher daughter should accompany him into Limerick, and be sent, with a flagof truce, across the bridge to join her husband in William's camp. This, however, she positively declined to accede to. 

"In the first place, " she said, "I consider that it is my duty to nursethe men who suffered for our sake. In the next place, after what we wentthrough last night, I refuse absolutely to place myself and my daughterin the hands of the ruffians who disgrace the cause of William. Hitherto, as a Protestant, I have been an adherent of that cause, as has myhusband. Henceforth, I am an Irishwoman, and as such abhor a cause whichcan employ such instruments, and inflict such atrocities upon Ireland. Iwill write a letter to my husband, telling him exactly what has happened, and how we have been preserved, and say that nothing will induce me totrust myself and Claire among William's troops, but that I shall remainon this side of the Shannon. If, as I trust will not be the case, theEnglish force their way across the river, I shall make for Galway, andthence take ship to England, where we can join him. I intend to remainhere as long as I can be useful as a nurse, and I shall then retire, withClaire, to Galway, where I have some relations, with whom I can stayuntil matters are decided. "

Mrs. Conyers at once wrote the letter, which Captain Davenant carriedhimself into Limerick, as he was going in to report the occurrences ofthe preceding night. The governor immediately sent the letter across, with a flag of truce. General Sarsfield, who was in command of thecavalry, expressed himself highly pleased with the result of the raidacross the Shannon, and appointed three officers to raise another troopof horse with the captured animals, which had arrived before morning atBallygan, and to place themselves under Captain Davenant's command. 

"Your son must be a lad after your own heart, " he said to CaptainDavenant. "It was indeed a most gallant action, thus, with twenty-fivedismounted men only, to attack a strong troop of Hessians. I hope that, as soon as he is well enough to mount a horse again, you will introducehim to me. Keep your troop in readiness for a move, for I mean to beatthem up before long. "

"Can't I see Walter today, mamma?" Claire asked, after Captain Davenanthad ridden off. "It seems so unkind, my being in the house with him, andnot going in to tell him how sorry I am that he was wounded. "

"Not today, Claire. He is very flushed and feverish this morning, and Imust not have him excited at all. "

"But I would not excite him, mother. I would only go in and speak to himquietly. "

"Even that would excite him, my dear. I will tell him that you want tocome in and see him; but that I think you had better not do so, for a dayor two. "

But even without the excitement of Claire's presence, Walter became morefeverish, and by evening was talking wildly. The excitement and anxietyhe had gone through were as much responsible for this as the wound, andby midnight he knew no one. The surgeon, who came over in the evening, ordered cloths constantly soaked with fresh water to be placed round hishead, and that he should be given, whenever he desired it, barley watersharpened by apples boiled in it. 

Mrs. Conyers and Larry sat, one on each side of his couch, and once ortwice, when he was lying quiet, Claire was allowed to steal in and lookat him; but at other times Mrs. Conyers kept her out of the room, for, inhis feverish talk, Walter was constantly mentioning her name, and tellingher he would come to her. 

Mrs. Conyers was troubled and perplexed in her mind. Regarding Claire asa child, and Walter as a lad of eighteen, the thought that any seriousconsequence would arise from their intercourse at the Hall had notoccurred to her; but now she could not doubt that, on Walter's part, atleast, a serious attachment for her daughter had sprung up, and Claire'sface and manner told her a similar story. She was but sixteen, but, having been her mother's companion and friend, she was older than manygirls of the same age. Mrs. Conyers would rather that it had not been so, for she foresaw much sorrow for Claire. She had thought that herdaughter, as a wealthy heiress, would some day make a good match, andWalter, whose fortune, in any case, would be but a small one--for sheknew that his father's estates had passed from the family--was a soldieron the side she believed would be the losing one. Still, she felt that hehad earned a right to Claire, and resolved that, come what would, if itturned out that Claire's affections were really given to the lad, sheshould have her support and championship with her father. 

For two days the fever continued, and then the care of his watchersprevailed, and Walter sank into a quiet sleep, from which he awokesensible and refreshed. 

An answer had been received from Mr. Conyers, on the same afternoon thathis wife's letter was sent to him. He had been in council with the king, when an officer came in with the news that some Hessians had ridden in, saying that the troop to which they belonged had ridden out to a largehouse, two miles beyond the spot at which the regiment was quartered, andhad there been attacked by a body of Irish troops, who had killed alltheir officers, and three-quarters of the troop. 

"Knowing where the regiment was quartered, it at once struck me that thehouse might be our own, and, on the trooper being brought in, I foundthat it was so, and obtained permission from the king to accompany theregiment of Danish horse, who were at once sent out. The king gavestringent orders to the officer in command that the house was to berespected, and a guard was to be placed there to protect it frommarauders. You can imagine my anxiety, as I rode out, and how it wasincreased when I found the place absolutely deserted. From the trooperwhom we took with us, we learned something of what had taken place. Hehad been in the garden, but the officers and nearly half the trooperswere in the house. Suddenly, the sounds of a conflict were heard within. Then many of his comrades jumped from the windows, and, as they reportedthe number of the assailants was not large, an attack was made upon thehouse. After considerable loss, an entrance was effected, and they weregradually overcoming the defenders, when they were attacked in the rearby a fresh body of the enemy, and only a few of them managed to maketheir escape. 

"The appearance of the house fully corroborated his story. The inside waspiled with dead, who were found scattered all over the house. Among themwere a few men in the uniform of one of the Irish cavalry regiments. Thiswas some alleviation to my terrible anxiety. Had the assailants been abody of peasants, I should have feared that they had wreaked on you andClaire the hatred which they feel, I own not unjustly, towards the king'sforeign troops. As they were regular soldiers, I had hopes that they hadonly carried you off as hostages. 

"One of the female servants was found below, killed. No pursuit waspossible, as we could find no one of whom to inquire by which way theenemy retreated; but, in the morning, we found that the horses of theHessians had been ridden to a spot some miles up the river, where theyhad swam or forded the stream. There was a strong party of the enemy onthe opposite side. My anxiety was terrible, till I received your letter, and you may imagine how great a shock it was to me to learn the frightfulscene through which you had passed, and how my sentiments changed towardsthose whom I had regarded as your abductors, but whom I now learn wereyour saviours. 

"I have read that portion of your letter to the king, who is furious atthe evil conduct of his troops. He has, all along, done everything in hispower to repress it; but when not under his immediate eye, it seems as ifall discipline was lost, and the troops behaved rather as a horde ofsavages than as soldiers. After what had happened, I cannot blame you forthe opinion you express in your letter, or for your determination not totrust yourself and Claire in this camp, although I am sure that the kingwould send a detachment of his own Dutch guards with you to Dublin. Itrust that you will, as soon as the work you have undertaken is over, goto our cousins at Galway, and take ship without delay to England, where Iwill at once join you, when I hear of your arrival there. 

"Please express to Captain Davenant and his son the extreme obligationunder which I feel towards them, and assure them that I look forward tothe time when this unfortunate struggle shall be at an end, and I canmeet them and thank them personally. It will be a satisfaction to you tobe able to inform them that I have, this morning, obtained from the kinga peremptory order on the commission in Dublin, to stay all proceedingsin the matter of Captain Davenant's estate near Bray, which was on thelist of confiscated properties. I am forwarding this by one of the royalmessengers, who leaves with despatches today, and, when I visit Dublin, Ishall do myself the pleasure of calling on Mrs. Davenant, and of settingher mind at ease. "

While Walter had been at his worst, his father had been away for only afew hours. After his interview with Sarsfield in Limerick, a messengerarrived from that general, ordering Captain Davenant to bring his troopinto the city at once. It was four in the afternoon when he arrived, andhe at once went to General Sarsfield's quarters. 

"Let the men dismount, Captain Davenant, and let them and the horsesfeed. We have a long ride before us tonight. I have just heard thatWilliam's siege artillery is coming up, under a weak escort, and I meanto get round in the Dutchman's rear and destroy it. He shall find thatLimerick is not to be taken as easily as he expects. 

"He has had a disagreeable sample of our quality today. A deserterbrought in news of the exact position of his tent, and our artillery havebeen giving him such a peppering that, from the church tower, we see thathe has been obliged to move his camp. "

As soon as it was night, four hundred cavalry were in the saddle. Sarsfield placed himself at their head, and rode twelve miles up theShannon to Killaloe. Crossing the river there, he made a wide sweep withhis cavalry, until he was in the heart of the Tipperary mountains, inrear of William's camp. 

Quietly as the expedition had been carried out, it was impossible that solarge a body of horse should ride through the country unperceived, and agentleman of county Clare, named O'Brian, thinking that he would gainhonour and advantage by reporting their passage to William, set out forthe British camp. Being unknown there, he was a long time before he couldget access to the king. The officers to whom he spoke paid littleattention to his story about a body of Irish horse passing through thecountry, and were much more interested in gaining information from him asto the state of the stock of cattle, sheep, and pigs in his part of thecounty; for, owing to the terror excited by the conduct of William'ssoldiers, the people for many miles round had driven off their stock andleft the villages, and provisions were already becoming scarce in thecamp. 

At length, however, one of those to whom he had spoken mentioned hisstory to the king, who at once sent for him, and saw the importance ofthe news he brought. O'Brian himself had no idea of the object ofSarsfield's expedition, but the king instantly guessed that it was thesiege train. He therefore ordered a large body of cavalry to beimmediately despatched to meet the artillery on its way, and protect itinto camp. 

All day, Sarsfield remained in concealment among the mountains, until, towards evening, the train came in sight, moving slowly with its escortof two troops of dragoons along the high road. He watched it until ithalted, and encamped for the night, in a field beside the highway. Hewaited until the horses were picketed, and the men engaged in makingtheir encampment for the night. Then the Irish cavalry burst down fromthe glen in which they had been hiding. The officer in command sounded tohorse, but it was too late; before the men were in the saddle, the Irishwere upon them, and in a moment the two troops of dragoons were dispersedor killed. 

Sarsfield's men at once set to, to collect the powder waggons, pontoons, and baggage of every description. The great guns were filled with powderto the muzzle, and then buried two-thirds of their length in the earth. The whole mass of siege equipage was piled above them, and a train ofgunpowder was laid to the store in the centre. The men then drew off to adistance. A match was applied to the train, and the whole blew up with atremendous explosion. 

The shock was heard in the faraway camp of William, and he knew that hiscavalry had arrived too late to avert the catastrophe he feared. Theyhad, indeed, just arrived within sight of the spot when the explosiontook place. They rode on at full speed, only to find the vast pile ofruined woodwork blazing furiously. The Irish cavalry was seen in thedistance, leisurely retiring; but, although the English pursued for ashort time, the Irish easily evaded them in the darkness among the hills. The whole of William's cavalry in camp were sent out, when the explosionwas felt, to endeavour to cut off the Irish horse; but Sarsfield was wellacquainted with the ground, and retired with his troops safely across theShannon, having struck a terrible blow against the designs of William. 

The king, however, found that, in spite of the measures Sarsfield hadtaken, two of the guns remained uninjured by the explosion. These werebrought to the camp, and another heavy gun was fetched from Waterford, together with a small quantity of ammunition. The regiments were at onceset to manufacture fascines for the siege, and this work proceededquickly, the orchards and plantations furnishing an abundance of wood. The fascines were used for filling up ditches, and the advances againstthe town were pushed forward with vigour. 

But the besiegers were not allowed to carry on their work unmolested, fora constant fire was kept up by the guns on the walls, and the besiegedmade several sorties, driving back the working parties, destroying theirwork, and retiring before any considerable bodies of troops could bebrought up to attack them. The three heavy guns were, however, broughtinto position at a short distance from the wall, and began to play uponit. 

The dissensions between the Irish commanders still continued, and, beyondSarsfield's raid against the battering train, nothing was done to annoythe enemy in the rear, although, had any vigour been shown, the Irisharmy lying idle west of the Shannon could have moved across, and speedilystarved out William's army by cutting off all supplies. Even as it was, provisions could only be collected by sending out strong bodies of troopsto plunder the country; for the peasantry had been goaded into fury bythe evil conduct of the troops, and were now in a state of insurrection, cutting off and murdering all stragglers, and driving in small parties. 

William had good reason to regret that he had brought with him so small acontingent of British troops, owing to his doubts whether they could bedepended upon, and his poor opinion of their bravery; for, since the daysof Agincourt, English troops had been seldom seen on the Continent, andwere consequently held but in small esteem there. He had with him now aregiment of English grenadiers, and a few line regiments, but the bulk ofthe army was composed of his Dutch troops and foreign mercenaries. Thelatter had shown, at the battle of the Boyne, that their courage was notof a high order, while their excesses had not only produced a bitterfeeling of hatred against them throughout the country, but had doneimmense harm to the cause, by rendering it next to impossible to obtainprovisions. 

Walter's progress towards recovery, from the day when he recoveredconsciousness, was very rapid. The fever, though severe, had been short, and he gained strength almost as rapidly as he had lost it. The morningafter he had come to himself, Mrs. Conyers brought Claire in to see him. 

"Here is a young lady who is very anxious to see how you are getting on, Walter, " she said cheerfully; "and, now you are going on so well, I shallhand you over a good deal to her care, as some of the others want myattention badly. You must not talk much, you know, else we shall behaving you getting feverish again. "

So saying, she left the room. 

Claire had stopped timidly near the door. The change which four days hadmade in Walter's appearance shocked her, and she scarcely recognized, inthe pale drawn face, the youth who had burst in, sword in hand, to herrescue on that terrible evening. The tears were running fast down hercheeks, as she approached the couch. 

"Why, what is the matter, Claire?" he asked. "You must not cry. I am allright again now, and in a week shall be on horseback, I hope. "

"Oh, Walter, what can I say?" she said. "To think that you should havesuffered so, for us!"

"There is nothing dreadful about it, " he said, smiling. "A soldier mustexpect to get wounded, sometimes, and a slash from a German sword is nota serious matter. I am only too glad that I got it in your cause, Claire--only too glad that I was able to be of service to you--and yourmother, " he added in afterthought. "It makes me very happy, to think Ihave been useful to you, only I would rather that you didn't say anythingmore about it. I am quite content and happy, as it is, and, if it hadbeen my life, I would have gladly given it. "

"I won't say any more, if you don't wish it, " Claire said quietly, "but Ishall think of it, always. 

"And now, " she said, with an effort, "mamma said you were not to talkmuch, and you look quite flushed already, so you must lie quiet, and Iwill read to you, or work, if you like that better. "

"I don't care which it is, " Walter said, "so that I can look at you;" andthis time Claire's cheeks were a good deal redder than Walter's. 

Mrs. Conyers returned in half an hour, and found Claire sitting working, while Walter lay looking at her. 

"I think, Claire, you had better take your work in the next room again, "she said. "Walter looks flushed, and I don't think your visit has donehim any good. You have been talking too much. "

"It has done me an immense deal of good, Mrs. Conyers, " Walter protested;while Claire exclaimed that they had hardly spoken a word, which indeedwas the truth, for Walter had been feeling too dreamily happy to want totalk, and Claire had felt so shy and embarrassed, with Walter watchingher, that she had been unable to hit on a single subject for remark. 

Another two days, and Walter was well enough to get up and lie on a couchof heather, covered with the blanket, which Larry had prepared for him inthe next room. His voice had recovered its natural ring, and Claire hadgot over her unaccustomed shyness; and Mrs. Conyers, as she moved in andout, heard them laughing and chatting together, as they had done ten daysbefore at the Hall. 

Chapter 11: The First Siege Of Limerick. 

The three heavy guns thundered against the walls without intermission, night and day, until at length a breach was made. The garrison in vainattempted to repair it, and every hour it grew larger, until there was ayawning gap, twelve yards wide. This William considered sufficient forthe purpose, and made his preparations for the assault. The Englishregiment of grenadiers, six hundred strong, was ordered to take its placein the advanced trenches, and to lead the assault. It was supported onthe right by the Dutch Guards, with some British and Brandenburgregiments in reserve. 

On the left, the grenadiers were supported by the Danish regiments, and alarge body of cavalry were held in readiness, to pour in behind theinfantry. The storming parties were under command of Lieutenant GeneralDouglas. 

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the signal for the assault was givenby a discharge of three pieces of cannon. As the last gun was fired, thegrenadiers leaped from the trenches and dashed forward towards thebreach. As they approached the wall, they discharged their muskets at theenemy upon the walls, and, before assaulting the breach, they hurled ashower of hand grenades at its defenders. 

The preparations for the assault had been observed by the Irish, and theywere in readiness to receive it. The news had spread through the town, and the excitement among the whole population was intense. The guns onthe walls ceased firing, in order that all might be ready to pour intheir shower of balls, when the assault commenced. The fire from thebatteries of the besiegers had also died away, and a silence, whichseemed strange after the constant din of the preceding days, hung overthe camp and city. 

No sooner had the grenadiers leaped from the trenches, than the guns onthe walls, and the musketry of the defenders, poured their fire uponthem; while all the batteries of the besiegers opened, at the samemoment, to cover the assault. Through the hail of fire the grenadierskept on without faltering, and, as they neared the breach, the Irishrushed out through the opening to meet them. There was a desperatestruggle, half hidden from the eyes of those on the walls by the cloud ofsmoke and dust, which arose from the combatants; but the grenadiers, fighting with the greatest gallantry, won their way to the counter-scarp, and half the regiment forced its way through the breach and entered thetown. But the Irish troops, clustered behind the wall, then closed inagain, and barred the breach to those following. 

The Dutch and English regiments were marched up, to aid the rest of thegrenadiers to cut their way in after their comrades; but these troopswere unable to imitate the valour of the grenadiers. They got as far asthe counter-scarp; but the fire from the walls was so deadly, that theycould not be prevailed upon to advance. The rain of fire mowed them down. Their officers urged them on, and, unwilling to retreat and incapable ofadvancing, they were shot down in scores. 

Presently there was a sudden movement among the Irish defenders on thebreach, and a few of the grenadiers who had entered the city burst theirway through them, and rejoined their comrades. No sooner had they enteredthe city, than they found themselves assailed on all sides. The Irishtroops and the citizens attacked them with fury, and even the women, animated by the deadly hate which the deeds of William's soldiers hadexcited, hurled missiles upon them from the windows, and even joined inthe attacks upon them in the streets. 

The grenadiers resisted obstinately, but they were gradually overpoweredby numbers, until at last a few survivors, gathering together, burstthrough their assailants, and succeeded in making their retreat. Fornearly three hours this furious conflict had raged within the city. Regiment after regiment had been marched up to the assault, but none hadproved brave enough to fight their way up the counter-scarp to the aid ofthe hard-pressed grenadiers in the town. 

When the little remnant of the grenadiers rejoined them, they continued, for a time, to keep up a constant fire upon the defenders on the walls, but at last slowly and sullenly fell back to their camp. 

In the meantime, a regiment of Brandenburghers had attacked the wall ofthe battery known as the Black Battery, whose fire was doing greatexecution upon the assailants. They had brought scaling ladders withthem, and with these they succeeded, fighting with great bravery anddetermination, in gaining the walls. The whole regiment poured in; but, just as they did so, the Irish fired the powder magazine that suppliedthe battery, and the whole battalion was destroyed. 

William, from his position on a fort known as Cromwell's Fort, watchedthe struggle. Had he acted as Cromwell did, at the siege of Drogheda, when, after his troops had been twice repulsed at the breach, he placedhimself at their head and led them to the assault, the result might nothave been the same; for the regiments, which refused to follow theirofficers up the counter-scarp, might have followed the king; but William, although he had often proved the possession of no ordinary courage, andcoolness in danger, had not that species of courage which prompts a manto throw himself forward to lead a forlorn hope. Moreover, both as ageneral-in-chief and king, his place was not at the head of an assault. 

The assailants lost more than two thousand men, and these the flower ofWilliam's army. The surprise of the troops, at their defeat by an enemythey had been taught to despise, was extreme, and so ashamed were they oftheir failure, that the following day they were ready to renew theassault. The king, however, would not risk another such defeat. Thebravest of his force had perished, his stores of ammunition were nearlyexhausted, and the rains had set in with great violence. 

On the day following the assault, the king called a council of war, andit was resolved to raise the siege. There was a great scarcity of waggonsand horses, in consequence of the loss sustained by Sarsfield's attack onthe train. The few waggons which remained were not enough to convey thewounded men, many of whom were obliged to walk. The stores had, therefore, to be abandoned for want of transport. Some were thrown intothe river, others blown up and destroyed, and, on Saturday the 30th ofAugust, the army commenced its retreat. 

It was accompanied by a great host of fugitives, for with the army wentthe whole of the Protestant inhabitants of the county of Limerick and thesurrounding country, with their wives, children, servants, and suchhousehold goods as they could bring with them. In addition to these werethe Protestant fugitives from the neighbourhood of Athlone, who had comedown with the division of General Douglas, after he had raised the siegeof that city. 

The Protestants round Limerick had not doubted the success of thebesiegers, never questioning the ability of an army, commanded by a king, to capture a place like Limerick. The misery of this body of fugitiveswas terrible. They had abandoned their homes to pillage and destruction, and knew not whether they should ever be able to return to them again. They had, on the arrival of William, torn up the letters of protection, which the Irish generals had given to all who applied to them, and, having thrown in their fortunes with him, dared not remain among thecountry people, who had suffered so terribly from the exactions andbrutality of William's army. Not only had they to endure wet, hunger, andfatigue in the retreat, but they were robbed and plundered, by the armywhich should have protected them, as if they had been enemies instead offriends. 

William himself left his army, as soon as he broke up the siege, andpushed straight on to Waterford, and the troops, relieved from the onlyauthority they feared, and rendered furious by the ill success which hadattended their operations, broke out into acts of plunder andinsubordination which surpassed anything that they had beforeperpetrated. 

The siege of Limerick brought the campaign to a close, and, so far, theIrish had no reason to be disheartened. They had besieged and nearlyannihilated the army of Schomberg at Dundalk. They had fought a sturdybattle on the Boyne, and had proved themselves a match for William's besttroops. They had decisively repulsed the attacks upon Athlone andLimerick. Half the troops William had sent to conquer the country hadfallen, while their own losses had been comparatively small. 

The sole fruit, of all the efforts of William, had been the occupation ofthe capital--a great advantage, as it gave him a point at which he couldpour fresh troops into Ireland, and recommence the war in the spring withnew chances of success. When the British army reached Callan, some of thearrears of pay were distributed among the troops, and the army was thenbroken up, and the troops went into winter quarters. 

William had returned at once to England, and sent over some new lordsjustices to Dublin. These were received with delight by the townspeople, who had suffered terribly from the exactions and depredations of theforeign troops quartered there, and were, indeed, almost in a state ofstarvation, for the country people were afraid to bring in provisions forsale, as they were either plundered of the goods as they approached thecity, or robbed of their money as they returned after disposing of them. As the only possible check to these disorders, the justices raised a bodyof militia in the town, to cope with the soldiery, and the result was aseries of frays which kept the city in a state of alarm. 

By the time that Limerick beat off the assault upon its breach, WalterDavenant was quite convalescent. Rumours of the ill treatment of theProtestants who accompanied the retreating army circulated in Limerick, and Mrs. Conyers congratulated herself warmly that she and her daughterwere safe under the protection of the Irish troops, instead of being inthe sad column of fugitives. 

As soon as the English army had left, Captain Davenant obtained for heran order of protection from General Sarsfield, and she returned for awhile with her daughter to their house, to which the invalids werecarried, Captain Davenant's troop being again quartered around it. 

"I hardly know what is best to do, " she said to Captain Davenant, a fewdays after her return. "I am, of course, anxious to rejoin my husband, but at the same time, I feel that my staying here is of benefit to him. With the order of protection I have received, I am perfectly safe here, and I have no fear whatever of any trouble, either with the troops orpeasantry; but, on the other hand, if we abandon this place, I fear thatit will be pillaged, and perhaps burned, like the other houses belongingto Protestants which have been deserted by their owners. What do you say, Captain Davenant?"

"I should be sorry to give any advice, Mrs. Conyers. For the troops I cananswer. The protection you have received from General Sarsfield will besufficient to ensure you against any trouble whatever from them, but, asto the peasantry, I cannot say. Every village within reach of William'sarmy, in its advance or retreat, has been destroyed, and the vilestatrocities have been committed upon the people. The greater part of themen have, in despair, taken up arms, and, when they get the chance, willavenge their wrongs upon inoffensive Protestants who have ventured toremain in their dwellings. Savagery has begot savagery, and even such aprotection order as you have received would go for little with thesehalf-maddened wretches. I should say, therefore, that so long as thereare a considerable body of troops at Limerick, so long you may safelyremain here, but no longer. "

"At any rate, I will stay for a time, " Mrs. Conyers said. "The winter maybring peace; and I am very loath to abandon the house, to which myhusband is greatly attached, if it is possible to save it. "

The party now fell back to the mode of life which had been interrupted bythe advance of William's army. Captain Davenant drilled his men, andspent his evenings pleasantly in the house. Walter had so far recoveredthat he was able to stroll through the grounds, or drive with Claire. Thetroopers enjoyed their rest and abundance of rations. Captain Davenant'smind had been set at ease by the receipt of a letter, which Mrs. Davenanthad sent him by one of the men of the village. It told him that she hadseen Mr. Conyers, who had obtained a stay of all proceedings against theproperty, and that she was well, and in as good spirits as she could bein his absence. 

A month after they had moved across the river, their quiet life wasinterrupted by a trooper riding up, just as the party was sitting down todinner, with an order from General Sarsfield for the troops to be inreadiness to march, at daybreak, to form part of a force which was aboutto undertake an enterprise against the English stationed at Birr. Therewas silence at the table, after Captain Davenant had read the order. 

"Then you must leave us?" Mrs. Conyers said at last. 

"I am afraid so, Mrs. Conyers. Yes, sorry as I am that our pleasant timehere must come to an end, there is no questioning the order. I have been, in fact, expecting it for the last day or two. "

"Then I shall move, " Mrs. Conyers said, decidedly. "It will take us a dayor two to pack up such valuables as I should like to take away and leaveat Limerick, till the return of happier days. When that is accomplished, I shall carry out my intention of making for Galway, and leave the houseto take care of itself. "

"In the meantime, madam, " Captain Davenant said, "I will leave my son andfour of the men, who are now convalescent, as a protection. I fancy theyare all fit to take the saddle, but I can strain a point a little, andleave them still on the sick list. "

"Thank you very much, indeed, " Mrs. Conyers said, while a glance ofsatisfaction passed between Walter and Claire. "That will be asatisfaction. Indeed, I shall feel quite safe, so long as your son ishere. I wish now I had moved the things before; but I had hoped that youwould have been allowed to remain in quarters here all the winter. Had itnot been for that, I should never have decided as I did. "

The next morning the troop started. 

"The place seems strangely quiet, " Walter said, as he strolled out intothe garden with Claire, after breakfast. "It seems terrible to thinkthat, in three or four days, it will be deserted altogether, and that youwill have gone. "

"It is horrid, " the girl said, with tears gathering in her eyes. "I hateKing William and King James both, " she went on petulantly. "Why can'tthey fight their quarrel out alone, instead of troubling everyone else? Idon't know which of them I hate the most. "

"But there is a compensation, " Walter said with a smile. 

"I am sure I don't see any compensation, " the girl said. "What do youmean, Walter?"

"I mean, " Walter said, "that if they had not quarrelled, we might neverhave met. "

"There is something in that, " Claire said softly. "No; I don't know thatI ought quite to hate them, after all. "

By which it will be seen that Walter Davenant and Claire Conyers hadalready arrived at a thorough understanding, as to their feelings towardseach other. After this, as was natural between young persons so situated, their talk wandered away into the future, and the present was alreadyforgotten. 

In the house, everyone was at work. Mrs. Conyers' servants had allreturned, when she came back to the house, and these were now busy, withthe assistance of Larry and the four troopers left behind, in taking downand packing pictures, taking up carpets, and getting furniture ready forremoval. In the afternoon, Walter assisted in the work of packing. As hewas dressing for dinner, Larry, as usual, came into his room. 

"I suppose, your honour, " he said, after putting out Walter's clothes, "you will be setting a watch tonight?"

"Yes, Larry, I was intending to do so. You don't think there is anyspecial occasion for it, do you?"

"I don't know, your honour. We hear tales of the rapparees burning everyProtestant house in the district. As long as the troop was here, avcoorse the boys kept away; but there is a powerful lot of plunder in thehouse, and the news that the troop have gone will go through the countryquick enough. The boys have had enough to turn them into devils, withwhat they have gone through, and small blame to them if they take theirchances when they find them. We know, yer honour, that Mrs. Conyers andMiss Claire are well-nigh angels, and there is small fear that the peoplearound will lift a finger agin them, in spite of having had their ownhomes burnt over their heads; but folks from a distance don't know that, and the news that there is a rich Protestant house, all ready forsacking, will travel quick. I hope your honour will get the ladies tomove out of the place tomorrow, whether the ould pictures and things areall ready or not. "

"Do you think it is as serious as that, Larry?"

"Faith and I do, yer honour. You don't know how bitter the folks are!"

"But there cannot be any danger, Larry, as long as we are here. Therapparees would never attack a house which has the general's protection, and with an officer and some troopers of the king to guard it. "

"It's meself would not answer for them, " Larry said, shaking his head. "The boys are just disperate, and would care nothing for the protection, unless there were force to back it. They think that, as all the Catholicshave been robbed by the Protestants, it's only fair that they should gettheir turn now; and, if I were your honour, I would lay all my plans outtonight, how to get away and the rest of it, just as if you were assuredthey would come before the morning. "

"Why, you have heard nothing certain, Larry?"

"I have not, or I would tell your honour at once; but I know what thepeople think and feel, and I know that the rapparees have been plunderingand destroying every Protestant house around, and they will guess thatthe ladies will be moving, now that the troop is gone. Besides, won'tthey have heard that the news has gone round, for waggons to come to takeaway the things?"

The earnestness with which Larry spoke convinced Walter that the dangerwas serious. Larry was not given to magnify danger, and usually treatedall risks with carelessness and indifference. Walter knew that he wouldgather, from the stablemen and the people who brought in provisions, muchmore as to the state of popular feeling in the country than he was likelyto know, and he accordingly went down to dinner grave and preoccupied. 

Mrs. Conyers soon noticed the change in his manner, and, as soon as theservants had retired, asked him if he had received any bad news. 

"No, " he said, trying to speak lightly. "My boy Larry has been trying toscare me about the rapparees, and, although I do not think that there isany danger to be apprehended from them, I do think that it would be justas well to hurry on your preparations, as much as possible, and for youand Claire to go in to Limerick tomorrow afternoon. We can finish thepacking up of the goods you wish to take, and any we cannot get offtomorrow can be sent in the next day. "

Mrs. Conyers looked grave. 

"But we have heard of no rapparees in this neighbourhood, Walter, " shesaid. "We have heard of sad excesses in some parts of the country, butnothing in this neighbourhood. "

"There has been small temptation for them about here, " Walter said, "forevery house within miles was stripped by the Williamites. Catholic orProtestant was all the same to them. Besides, they knew well thatSarsfield's horse would soon have put a stop to that sort of thing. Now, I do not wish to alarm you in the slightest, and I do not think thatthere is any real cause for anxiety. Even if they are in theneighbourhood, the rapparees will hardly venture an attack upon a houseoccupied by even a few of our troops. Still, it is always wisest to beprepared, and therefore, I should like for us to arrange exactly what hadbest be done in the event of an attack. Of course, I shall see that allthe doors and the lower windows are securely fastened, and I shall havethe men from the stables into the house, so we shall be nine or ten menin all; enough, I hope, for all circumstances. Still, merely as a matterof discussion, let us suppose the worst. Let us imagine the housesurrounded, the doors burst in, and the resistance on the point of beingoverpowered. What would be our best plan for making our escape?

"Do not be frightened, Claire, " he went on, seeing how pale the girl hadbecome. "Every general, when he is going to fight a battle, however surehe may be of success, decides upon the route by which his army shallretreat, in case of a defeat, and I am only taking the same precaution. "

"If there is to be a retreat made at all, " Mrs. Conyers said, "I preferthat it should be made now. Do you really think that there is any realdanger of attack?"

"I think that there is danger of attack, Mrs. Conyers; but I have noreason for supposing that there is any particular danger this night. "

"Then Claire and I will at once start for the town, under the escort oftwo of your men. It would be folly, indeed, to run the risk of anotherattack here. If the house is to be burned, it must be burned. For, ifthey were beaten off once, they would come again when the house wasundefended. As for the things, should all be quiet tonight, they can besent in tomorrow as arranged. The things that are to go are all gottogether. "

"I do think that the best way, " Walter said. "Of course, I shall ride inwith you, and hand you over to the friends you are going to, in the town, and shall then come back here again with a light heart. But I own that Iam nervous at the thought of you and Claire being here, should therapparees attack the house. "

"But mind, Walter, there is to be no fighting. If they come tonight, Ihad rather that they took everything, than that you should risk your lifein its defence. The silver and valuables we took across before are allsafe in Limerick. As for the other things, they can go. Now, mind, weshall not leave unless we have your promise that, if a band of these mencome tonight to sack the place, you and your men will offer noresistance. "

"If they come in numbers which render successful resistance out of thequestion, I promise you that we will not draw a trigger, Mrs. Conyers. "

"In that case I am satisfied, Walter. Against you and your men thesepeasants have no quarrel. "

Walter at once called Larry. 

"Larry, get my horse saddled, and tell Browning to saddle his. Place twopillions behind the saddles. Mrs. Conyers and her daughter are going toride into Limerick at once. "

"The Lord be praised!" Larry said piously. "That's the best news I haveheard this many a day. "

"And, Larry, " Mrs. Conyers said, "tell the three boys in the stable tosaddle the three best horses, and ride with us. If we lose everythingelse, we may as well retain them, for it would not be easy to buy othersnow. "

In ten minutes, all was ready for a start. Walter and the trooper tooktheir places in the saddles, chairs were brought out, and Mrs. Conyersand Claire mounted behind them. Walter had asked Mrs. Conyers to take herseat on the pillion on his horse, but she did not answer, and when Walterturned to see that she was comfortably placed behind him, he found thatit was Claire who was seated there. 

"Mamma told me to, " the girl said. "I suppose she thought this was, perhaps, the last ride we should take together. "

"For the present, Claire--you should say, for the present. I hope it willnot be long before we are together again. 

"And for good, " he added, in a low voice. 

Mrs. Conyers made no comment, when they dismounted and entered the houseof a friend at Limerick, upon Claire's swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, but said "goodbye" lightly to Walter, thanked him for his escort, andsaid that she hoped to see him, with her household goods, on thefollowing afternoon. 

On leaving them, Walter went straight to the house where an officer ofhis acquaintance was quartered. 

"Hullo, Davenant! I didn't expect to see you here at this time of theevening. I heard you were still laid up with your wound. "

"That is an old affair now, " Walter said. "I am not quite strong again, but there is little the matter now. I have come in to ask you if you willlet me have five-and-twenty of your men. I have strong reason to believethat it is likely one of the bands of rapparees will make an attack onMrs. Conyers' house tonight. The tenants have been asked to send in theirwaggons, tomorrow, to remove some of the furniture in here, and I thinkit probable they will try to take what they fancy, before it starts. Ihave brought Mrs. Conyers and her daughter into the town, but, as I haveonly four men, I cannot defend the house if it is attacked in any force. I wish you would let me have five-and-twenty men, and a sergeant, justfor tonight. I will march them in with the baggage in the afternoon. "

"Certainly I will, " Captain Donovan said. "I need not disturb thecolonel, at this time of the evening, but will take it on myself. Thereare just that number quartered in the storehouse, close to the gate. Iwill go down with you, at once, and turn them out and give them orders. It will be a good thing for the rapparees to have a lesson. They bringdisgrace upon our cause by their doings. "

In a few minutes the men, who had not retired to bed, were turned out. 

"You have got a four-mile march before you, boys, " Walter said, when theywere drawn up; "but there will be a pint of good wine, and some supperfor you, when you get there. So step out as briskly as you can. "

After a cordial goodnight to Captain Donovan, Walter placed himself atthe head of the infantry, and, in little over an hour, arrived at thehouse. He knocked loudly at the door. A minute later, Larry put his headout of the window above. 

"Who is there? What do you want knocking at a peaceful house at this timeof night? You had best go away, boys, for the house is chock full ofsoldiers. We are only waiting for orders to blow you to smithereens. "

Walter burst into a laugh. 

"Very well done, Larry. It is I, with some soldiers. So you needn't giveorders to the men to fire. "

Larry gave a cry of satisfaction, and ran down to open the door. 

"It's glad I am to see you, Master Walter, entirely. I have beenlistening ever since you went, and, when I heard the tramp of feet, Imade sure it was the boys. "

"But I gave orders that there was to be no resistance, Larry. "

"And I wasn't going to resist, your honour; but I thought I might justfrighten them away. "

"Now, Larry, get up a pint of wine for each of these good fellows, andwhat victuals you can find in the house. We need have no fear of anattack tonight. "

When the soldiers had finished their supper, they lay down in the hall. Walter placed a sentry at a window, at each side of the house, and hethen lay down on a sofa, for the ride to Limerick and back had greatlyfatigued him, much to his surprise, for he had no idea how far hisstrength had been pulled down. 

He was aroused, just as day was breaking, by a loud knocking at the door, and at the same moment a shot was fired from a window above. The soldiershad started to their feet, and seized their arms as he ran out and badethem follow him upstairs. He threw up a window. 

"Who are you? And what do you want?"

"Never mind who we are, " a voice replied. "We want the door opened, andyou had best do it quick. "

"Look here, my man, " Walter said in a loud, steady voice, "there arethirty soldiers in this house, and, if I give the word, you will get sucha volley among you, that half of you will never go home to tell about it, so I warn you to depart quietly. "

"It's a lie, " the man said. "If you are the officer, you have got onlyfour men, and you know it. We want to do you no harm, and we don't wantto harm the ladies; but what's in the house is ours--that's the law ofWilliam's troops, and we mean to act up to it. "

A chorus of approbation rose from a throng of peasants gathered round thedoor. A few of them carried muskets, but the greater part were armed withrude pikes. 

"Show yourselves at the windows, boys, " Walter said to his men. "Levelyour muskets, but don't fire until I give the word. "

It was light enough for those without to make out the threateningfigures, which showed themselves at every window, and, with a cry ofalarm, they ran back among the shrubs for shelter. 

"Now you see, " Walter said, "that I have spoken the truth. I have thirtysoldiers here, and you know as well as I do what will come of it, if youattempt to break into this house. 

"For shame, men! Your deeds bring disgrace on the king's cause, and onour religion. It is not because the scum who march with the Dutchmanbehave like brutal savages, that we should do the same. There's plenty ofwork for you, in fighting against the enemies of your country, instead offrightening women and pillaging houses. Return to your homes, or, betterstill, go and join the king's army, and fight like men for your homes andyour religion. "

He listened, but there was no answer. The rapparees knew they had nochance of breaking into the house, so defended, and, when Walter ceased, each man slunk away in the darkness. 

The next morning, a number of waggons arrived, and Walter, with the aidof the soldiers, had the satisfaction of loading them with everything ofany value in the house, and of escorting them without interruption toLimerick. Mrs. Conyers was filled with gratitude, when she heard theevents of the night, and how narrowly she and her daughter had escapedanother attack. One of the principal tenants had come in with his waggon, and he agreed to move into the house, with his wife and family, until sheshould return. Seeing that now everything worth taking had been removed, he thought there was little chance of any attempt to destroy the house. 

Chapter 12: Winter Quarters. 

Two or three days later, Captain Davenant returned to Limerick with histroop. He had stopped at the house on his way, and learned there of themove which had been made. 

"Well, Walter, so you nearly had to defend Mrs. Conyers against odds, again, " he said, as Walter joined him in the marketplace, where the troopwas dismounting. "I have come here for a day, only, for we are on our waysouth. It is thought likely that the enemy's next move may be againstCork, so some of us are detached in that direction. 

"To my mind, " he went on, after he had seen the troop quartered, in somehouses which formerly belonged to the Protestants, but were now used asbarracks--"in my opinion, we are wasting precious time. We ought not toallow the enemy to go into winter quarters. Our best season is justcoming on. We can stand the wet far better than they can, and we oughtnot to give them a moment's rest, but should keep our army together, andbeat up one garrison after another; threaten the strongest places; compelthem to keep constantly on the move; and, before the spring, completelywear out and exhaust those whom we cannot conquer. If England found thatshe had the whole work to begin over again, she would think twice beforeshe went further. 

"These petty German princes would not find their men so ready to embarkin a quarrel, with which they have no concern, when they learned that allwho had done so had laid their bones in the swamps of Ireland, and, without his mercenaries, William would find it hard to gather an army, for the English themselves have no heart whatever in the war. If weremain inactive all the winter, and enable them to retain their footholdeverywhere, fresh reinforcements will arrive in the spring, and so, bitby bit, all Ireland will be won. 

"It is disheartening in the extreme, after seeing the enemy retire, repulsed and utterly disheartened, from Athlone and Limerick, to allowthem unmolested to rest and gather strength again. If we could but getrid of the French, there would be some hope for us. They have scarcefired a shot, since the war began, and yet they assume superiority overour generals. They thwart us at every turn. They not only refuse tocombine in any action, but they prevent our doing so. 

"Since the Boyne, our army has lain inactive and has done nothing, although they might have done everything. All Ireland was open to them, on the day when William, with all his forces, sat down here beforeLimerick. Why, they could have marched straight for Dublin and capturedit, before William heard that they had crossed the Shannon. They mighthave cut off his supplies from Waterford. They might have starved him outin his camp here. They have had the game in their hands, and they haveallowed it to slip altogether through their fingers. The only hope Ihave, now, is that before the spring the French will go. It is but tooclear that Louis has no intention, whatever, of helping us in earnest. Had he chosen he could, any time during the last six months, have landedan army here, which would have decided the struggle. Instead of that, hehas sent five thousand men, and had in return as many of our bestsoldiers; and the officers he sent seem to have been furnished withsecret instructions, not only to do nothing themselves, but to prevent usfrom doing anything. "

"Whom would you like to see in command, father?"

"I should not care much, Walter, so that it was one man. I had ratherhave any soldier you might take at random from our army, so that hepossessed a fair share of common sense, than the chaos which nowprevails; but, of course, the man whom we would rather have is Sarsfield. Whether he is a great general or not, we have no means of knowing, for hehas never yet had the slightest opportunity of showing it; but I do notthink, myself, that he has made the most of what chances he has had, savethat one dash against the artillery convoy. He has done nothing; and, asthe cavalry are under his command, and he could, if he chose, snap hisfingers at the pretensions of the French and act independently, I thinkhe might have done far more than he has done. Still, he is our mostprominent leader, and he possesses the confidence of the Irish of allclasses. If he were in supreme command there would, I am sure, be acomplete change in our tactics. Instead of waiting everywhere to beattacked, we should take the offensive, and, even if we were unable tomeet William's forces in pitched battles, and I believe that we areperfectly capable of doing so, we should be able to harass and exhaustthem, to such a point that William would be only too glad to grant us anyterms we might demand, to bring the war to an end. "

After having dined, Captain Davenant went with Walter to call upon Mrs. Conyers. Hearing that he was about to march with his troop to Cork, Mrs. Conyers said:

"Oh, Captain Davenant, will you not take us under your protection there?I am afraid of travelling with Claire to Galway, in the present disturbedstate of the country, and I should find it easier to take a passage toEngland from Cork than from Galway. "

"You certainly would, Mrs. Conyers. There is no formal war betweenEngland and Ireland, and trading vessels still ply between Cork andBristol. I agree with you that it would not be safe for two Protestantladies to travel, without protection, from here to Galway, and I shall beonly too glad for you to journey with us. Your daughter, I know, can rideany of the country ponies; and for yourself--"

"I can ride, too, if there is an occasion. One of our horses is perfectlyquiet, and I have often ridden him by the side of Mr. Conyers, so therewill be no difficulty on that score. "

"In that case, " Captain Davenant said, "consider the matter as arranged. Will you be ready to start tomorrow, early?"

"Certainly, Captain Davenant; I have no preparations to make. All ourfurniture--which, thanks to Walter, was saved--has been stowed away inthe cellars of a warehouse here, and is safe unless William returns andbatters the whole town to pieces. The silver and other valuables ourfriends here will take care of, till better times, so we have only topack two valises and mount. The servants will all find situations here. My daughter's maid, Bridget, and two or three others have offered toaccompany us to England, but we have decided to take no one. Directly weget to Bristol, I shall write to my husband, who has given me an addressboth in London and Dublin, so that he will doubtless join us in a veryshort time. "

The party started the next morning, and reached Cork without adventure, as there were no English troops in that part of the country. Three daysafter their arrival, Mrs. Conyers took a passage for herself and Clairein a trader about to sail for Bristol. The evening before they sailed, Mrs. Conyers had a long talk with Captain Davenant, while the two youngpeople had slipped off for a last walk together. 

"Of course, Captain Davenant, " she began, "you have seen, as well as Ihave, how things stand between Claire and Walter. They are both veryyoung, but the strange circumstances of the times, and the manner inwhich they have been thrown together, have combined to render theirposition peculiar, and I believe, nay, I am sure, that on both sidestheir affection is deep and will be lasting. "

"I quite agree with you, Mrs. Conyers, at any rate as far as my son isconcerned. Walter has never spoken to me on the subject. I supposefathers and sons are less given to confidences of this sort than mothersand daughters. But that Walter is deeply and earnestly attached to yourdaughter is unquestionable, and, indeed, it would be singular were itotherwise. I have stood passive in the matter, simply because I saw thatyou took no steps to keep them apart; and you could not but have seen, atan early period of their acquaintance, in what direction matters weretending. "

"Frankly, " Mrs. Conyers said, "I gave the matter no thought, during yourfirst stay with us. I had regarded Claire as a child, and it did not, atfirst, occur to me that there could be any danger of her fallingseriously in love, for years to come. When my eyes were opened to thetrue state of things, and I found my little girl had lost her heart, Icould have wished it otherwise. 

"I do not mean as to worldly matters, " she went on hastily, seeing thatCaptain Davenant was about to speak. "That weighed absolutely nothingwith me. Indeed, they may be considered to be well matched in thatrespect. If the war is decided in favour of King William, Claire will bea rich heiress. If, on the other hand, your cause triumph, you willregain your confiscated estates, while we shall lose ours. So that thereis, I consider, no inequality whatever in their position. The difficulty, of course, to which I allude is their religion. This is naturally a graveobstacle, and I fear that my husband will regard it as such, even morestrongly than I do. He is, however, extremely attached to Claire, andwill, I feel sure, when he sees that her happiness is at stake, comeround to my views of the matter. 

"There are, " she said with a smile, "Catholics and Catholics, just asthere are Protestants and Protestants. I would rather see Claire in hergrave than married to many Catholics I know; but neither you nor Walterare bigots. "

"No, indeed, " Captain Davenant said. "We came over to this country whenCatholicism was the religion of all England, and we have maintained thereligious belief of our fathers. I own that what I may call politicalProtestantism is hateful to me; but between such Catholicism as mine, andsuch Protestantism as yours, I see no such broad distinctions as shouldcause us to hate each other. "

"That is just my view, " Mrs. Conyers agreed. "The differences between thecreeds are political rather than religious, and, in any case, I considerthat when neither of the parties is bigoted, the chances of happiness aregreater in the case where the man is a Catholic and the woman aProtestant, than in the opposite case. "

"I think so, too, " Captain Davenant said. "At any rate, I do not thinkthat Walter and Claire would be likely to quarrel over their respectiveopinions. "

"I think not, " Mrs. Conyers agreed with a smile. "I do wish, with all myheart, that it had been otherwise; but, as it is not so, I for my part amdetermined to make the best of the circumstances. They are both young, and it is possible that they may, in time, come to think alike, one wayor the other. I am not one of those who think that there is but one wayto heaven; and, should Walter some day win Claire over to his way ofthinking, I shall not consider that she has forfeited her chances. "

"It is quite as likely to be the other way, " Captain Davenant said. "Walter is a good lad, and a brave one, but, with all Claire's prettywinning ways, I question if the young lady has not more will of her own, and more mind, than Walter has. I hope they may agree each to go theirown way, and I think that, if they continue to live in this country, theywill probably do so, for here, unhappily, political differences build upa wall between the two branches of Christianity. But, if it should comethat they should some day leave this unhappy country, and settle inEngland, where the same ill feeling does not exist, there is no sayingwhat may happen. "

"Well, at any rate, Captain Davenant, it is satisfactory that our viewson the subject agree, and that we are both willing to make the best ofwhat we cannot but consider to be a misfortune. But here come the youngpeople. I have no doubt, " she laughed, "that they have been swearing vowsof eternal fidelity. "

"Well, we were young ourselves, once, and we are not too old, yet, Mrs. Conyers, to feel enjoyment in the happiness of these young people. "

The next morning, Mrs. Conyers and Claire sailed for England, and themilitary events, which shortly afterwards took place, left Walter littletime for thought on other subjects. 

On the 21st of September, two days after the departure of Mrs. Conyers, aheavy cannonading was heard from the forts at the mouth of Cork harbour, and, soon afterwards, a horseman galloped into the town with the newsthat an English fleet had forced the entrance, in spite of the fire fromthe forts. This fleet bore five thousand men, under the command of theEarl of Marlborough. 

The English party at court had long been mortified and disgusted at themanner in which the English had been ignored by William, and all themilitary commands bestowed upon foreigners. The discontent, caused by thewant of success which had attended the operations in Ireland, had greatlystrengthened this party, and they had now succeeded in getting anindependent English expedition sent off, under the command of an Englishgeneral. William was much annoyed at this, for any brilliant successattained by Marlborough would have increased the feeling against hisforeign favourites. He had, therefore, despatched the division of GeneralScravenmore to besiege the town on the land side, and had placed incommand of it the Duke of Wirtemberg, whose rank as a prince, and as ageneral of higher rank than Marlborough, would enable him to claim thesupreme command, and to carry off the honour of any success that might begained. 

This force arrived before the town, within a day of the appearance of thefleet. Marlborough had already made good use of his time, for immediatelythe leading vessels had effected the passage, troops were landed inboats, and the batteries attacked in rear and carried. The rest of thefleet then entered, and, on the 23rd and 24th, the troops were landed onthe south bank of the river, and commenced their march towards the city, the sailors dragging the guns. Wirtemberg immediately sent toMarlborough, to claim the command of the whole force. 

Marlborough replied that his commission was an independent one. He deniedthe authority of any of William's foreign officers in Ireland, and statedhaughtily that his troops were British, and he a British officer. Wirtemberg was greatly offended that the English general should affect tolook down upon the Danes, Germans, French, and other foreign ragamuffinswho composed his command, and he insisted strongly upon his claims. Marlborough maintained his position, and Wirtemberg was driven, at last, to propose that they should command on alternate days, and Marlboroughagreed to the proposal. 

The position of Cork was not a strong one, although, in the days beforethe use of artillery, it was considered well-nigh impregnable, beingbuilt upon the islands and marshes formed by the river Lea, andcompletely surrounded by two branches of the river. But upon three sidesit was surrounded, at a short distance only, by high hills, whichcompletely commanded it, and these hills were defended only by castlesand forts of no great strength. 

The garrison was but small, for the Irish were taken by surprise by thearrival of Marlborough's expedition, and had prepared only for a siege byWirtemberg and his foreign division. They were therefore obliged toabandon Shandon Castle, and two adjoining forts, which defended the hillson the north of the city, and Wirtemberg's Danes at once took possessionof these works, and, planting their guns there, opened fire on thenorthern quarter of the city. 

Marlborough constructed his batteries at a monastery called the RedAbbey, on the south point of the river, where he was separated from thecity only by the stream and narrow strip of marshy ground. These gunssoon made a breach in the walls, and Marlborough prepared to storm theplace, for, at low tide, it was possible to wade across the marsh andriver. 

The garrison, well aware that they could not long defend the place, nowoffered to capitulate on the same terms which William had granted to thegarrisons of towns he had captured; namely, that they should be allowedto march out with the honours of war, with their arms and baggage, and tomake their way unmolested to Limerick. The Prince of Wirtemberg wasstrongly in favour of these terms being granted, but Marlboroughperemptorily refused. While a sharp dispute took place between the twoofficers, and before any conclusion could be arrived at, the tide rose, and the regiments drawn up ready to cross the river could no longer pass. 

The firing then recommenced on both sides. Notwithstanding the efforts ofthe besieged to repair the injury to their wall, the breach dailyincreased in size. Wirtemberg moved his forces round from the north side, to take their share in the assault, and at low tide the English and Danesadvanced against the breach. Under a heavy fire from the walls, theystruggled through the marshes and entered the river, which, even at lowtide, reached to their shoulders. Suffering heavily from the fire, theypushed forward until they nearly reached the breach. Here the Duke ofGrafton, who commanded the British column, fell dead, with many officersand men; but the rest maintained their order, and were about to make adash at the breach, when the governor, accompanied by Lord Tyrone, raisedthe white flag. 

After a short parley, it was agreed that the garrison should becomeprisoners of war, but were to be protected in their persons and privateproperty. The city was to be preserved from any injury, and the citizensand their property were to be respected. 

Captain Davenant's troop had remained idle, during the siege, as therewas no work for cavalry. They were quartered near an infantry regiment, which had been raised by MacFinn O'Driscol from among his own tenantry, and was commanded by him. O'Driscol was a relation of Mrs. Davenant, andthe two commanders were often together. Both felt that the city mustspeedily fall, unless the Irish army moved down to its relief; but theyagreed that, if it surrendered, they would make an effort to escape withtheir troops, for they had no faith in the observance of any terms ofcapitulation which might be made. 

Accordingly, as soon as it was known that the governor had surrendered, and that the gates of the town were to be handed over to the British, O'Driscol and Captain Davenant formed up their commands, and, opening oneof the gates, marched boldly out. The exact terms on which the garrisonhad surrendered were not known, and Marlborough and Wirtemberg were nearthe breach, arranging for the troops to take possession of the gates onthat side. Consequently, the besieging forces opposite the gate fromwhich the little column had marched out supposed that, in accordance withthe arrangement, they were coming out to lay down their arms. Theytherefore stood aside as the column passed, being far more intent uponthe plunder they expected to gather, in Cork, than on anything else. As, a few minutes later, the gates were opened and the troops poured into thecity, no further thought was given to the little force which had marchedout; and the five hundred infantry, and the troop of horse, were safefrom pursuit before the news of the audacious ruse they had practisedreached the ears of the generals. 

Inside the town, the articles of the treaty were at once violated. Thetroops entered the town in crowds, and, incited, as in Dublin, by a mobcalling themselves Protestants, they proceeded to plunder the houses andassault the Catholic inhabitants. The governor, M'Carty, was wounded. TheEarls of Tyrone and Clancarty, with difficulty, made their escape fromthe mob. Many were killed, and a great destruction of property tookplace, before Marlborough and Wirtemberg entered the town and put a stopto the disorder, which inflicted great discredit upon them, as they hadmade no arrangements, whatever, to ensure the safety of the inhabitants, which they had solemnly guaranteed. 

It was now October, and Marlborough at once set about the investment ofKinsale. On the very evening of the day he entered Cork, he sent off fivehundred horse towards that town, and the next day marched thither himselfat the head of his infantry. The works of Kinsale consisted of two forts, both of considerable strength, called the Old Fort and Charles's Fort. They were well supplied with stores and provisions for a siege. On theapproach of the besiegers, the governor set fire to the town and retiredto the forts, and, in answer to the summons to surrender, replied that"it would be time enough to talk about that a month hence. "

Marlborough ordered General Tettau to cross the river in boats, witheight hundred picked men, and to carry Old Fort by storm. The assault wasmade with great determination and bravery; but the works were strong andstoutly defended, and the British were about to fall back, discomfited, when fortune came to their assistance. Some loose powder ignited andfired the magazine, by which more than two hundred men of the garrisonwere killed, and the works seriously injured. After this disaster, thegovernor abandoned the fort and withdrew, with the survivors of itsgarrison, to Charles's Fort. Marlborough at once commenced the siege ofthis position, but for fifteen days the place resisted all his efforts. The heavy loss, however, which the garrison had suffered by the explosionin Old Fort, rendered them unable, by sallies, to interfere with theworks of the besiegers. These were carried on with great vigour, forMarlborough feared that the approach of the wet season would put a stopto his operations. 

When, therefore, the governor offered to surrender, on the terms of hisbeing permitted "to march away with his garrison, their arms, baggage, and all the honours of war, taking with them all persons who wished toaccompany them, together with their property, to Limerick, " Marlboroughat once granted the terms demanded. 

The advent of winter now put a stop to regular operations; but a war ofskirmishes continued, and the British, in their quarters, were greatlystraitened for forage and provisions. In Dublin, the work of confiscationwent on merrily. The greater part of the Catholic proprietors of the townwere thrown into prison. The various indictments against countrygentlemen, followed by the confiscation of their property, were hurriedthrough the court with the merest shadow of legal form; for, thedefendants being absent and unacquainted with what was being done inDublin, it was only necessary to recite the accusation to find theaccused guilty, and to pass sentence of confiscation--all this being thework of a few minutes only. 

Nothing could be done, however, to carry the sentences into effect, forWilliam's troops still possessed only the ground the troops stood upon, and the towns they occupied. Outside those limits, the whole country wasagainst them. The Earl of Marlborough had returned to England, immediately after the surrender of Kinsale; and General Ginckle, who hadnow succeeded to the command, determined to harass the enemy, and toincrease the resources at his disposal by an expedition into thesouthwest of Ireland, which, covered by Cork and Limerick, had hithertobeen free from the presence of any English troops. He therefore pushed astrong body of cavalry and infantry westward from Cork and Kinsale; andthese succeeded in making themselves masters of Castle Haven, Baltimore, Bantry, and several other castles on the line of coast. The district waswild and mountainous, and the passes might have been easily held againstthe advance; but the peasants had not been organized for resistance, andno serious opposition was encountered. 

Colonel O'Driscol, a cousin of MacFinn O'Driscol, and Captain O'Donovan, two of the principal proprietors of the neighbourhood, soon arrived uponthe spot, and assembled a large irregular force, consisting chiefly ofmounted peasants; and with these they soon cooped the invaders up in thecastles they had taken. O'Driscol next attempted the recovery of his ownCastle Haven, which was strongly defended, and stood on a cliffoverhanging the sea; but his wild peasants were ill adapted for suchwork, and they were repulsed by the English garrison, and O'Driscolhimself killed. But another force was advancing from the north. MacFinnO'Driscol, with his regiment, pressed forward along the line of Bandonriver, besieged and captured Castle Haven, and expelled the Englishgarrisons from Baltimore and Bantry. 

General Tettau had also marched out from Cork with several regiments ofinfantry and dragoons, with the intention of penetrating into Kerry; butthe enemy's light troops harassed him night and day, wasted the country, and defended every pass; and he was obliged to return to Cork, withouthaving accomplished anything. All this time Ginckle was urging upon thelord justices, who were now the real ruling party in Ireland, to issue aproclamation offering pardon and security for person and property to allwho came in; urging that it was impossible that he could ever subdue thecountry, while the whole population had everything at stake in opposinghim. 

He was supported by King William, who was most anxious to bring thestruggle to an end; but the lord justices, and the Protestant party atDublin, who were bent upon dividing among themselves the property of theCatholics throughout Ireland, turned a deaf ear to the arguments ofGinckle, and their friends in London had sufficient power to prevent theking from insisting upon his own wishes being carried into effect. 

After taking part in the operations in Kerry, Captain Davenant's troopreturned to Limerick, around which city the greater part of the Irisharmy were still encamped. 

Chapter 13: A Dangerous Mission. 

"Walter, " Captain Davenant said to his son one day, when he returned froma council in which he had taken part, at the quarters of GeneralSarsfield, "I have a mission for you in Dublin. It is necessary, in thefirst place, to communicate with some of our friends there, and in thesecond to ascertain, as far as we can, the plans of the enemy during thenext campaign. There are few of us here who would not be readilyrecognized in Dublin; therefore, when there seemed a difficulty inselecting someone to undertake the duty, I said that I thought you wouldbe likely to succeed better than most. 

"You have not been any time in Dublin, and I question whether a singleperson there would be likely to recognize you. You will, of course, be indisguise, and your youth will be in your favour. I don't say there is nodanger in such an undertaking, but I do not think the risk is greaterthan that which you have frequently run. I was sure you would readilyundertake the mission, and I thought I could answer for your intelligenceas well as your discretion. "

"I will undertake it, certainly, father, if you think me capable of it, "Walter said. "It is dull enough here, now that the wet weather hasthoroughly set in, and I shall really like the adventure. When am I toset out?"

"Tomorrow. Your instructions, and the letters you are to carry, will bedrawn up tonight, and you can set off after breakfast. I shall ride withyou, with a part of the troop, until you are past the point where you arelikely to fall in with any body of the enemy's cavalry. After that youwill, of course, shift for yourself. We think you had best travel onfoot, dressed as a peasant. In that way you will attract no attention, and pass through towns occupied by the enemy without questioning. "

"I think, father, I will take Larry with me, if you have no objection. Hewould be the real thing, and could do most of the talking. Besides, sometimes it is very useful to have someone to send with a message, or toput on guard when one went in anywhere. "

"Take him, by all means, Walter, and, indeed, I agree with you that youmay find him very useful. "

Accordingly, the following morning Walter and Larry, dressed as youngpeasants, mounted, and with the troop started from the camp. No signs ofany parties of the enemy were seen during their ride, and afterproceeding some five-and-twenty miles, they dismounted, and with a heartyfarewell from Captain Davenant, and a cheer from the men, they started onfoot. 

The letters of which Walter was the bearer had been written on very smallpieces of paper, and had been sewn up inside the collar of his coat. Hisinstructions, as to the persons on whom he was to call, had been learnedby heart and the paper destroyed. Larry was in high glee at taking partin the adventure, and laughed and jested as they made their way along. 

They avoided the main roads running to Waterford and Dublin, as theywould probably have fallen in with parties of troops journeying west, andmight have been shot out of pure wantonness, besides being exposed to therisk of being asked awkward questions. They slept at peasants' houses, where they were everywhere hospitably received, as soon as their hostsassured themselves that they were Catholics. Larry was the principalspokesman, for although Walter, like all the Catholic gentry, spoke thenative language, he was not so fluent as his follower, to whom it camenaturally, as, although the peasantry in the neighbourhood of Dublin wereall able to speak English, they always conversed in Irish amongthemselves. Larry gave out that he and his companion had been serving inthe army, and had obtained leave to pay a visit to their native village, near Dublin, for the winter. 

"I doubt whether you will find much of it standing, " one of their hostssaid, "for I hear that county Wicklow, and all round Dublin, has beenwasted by them foreign devils in Dublin. The curse of Cromwell be uponthem! But we'll be aven wid them yet. They say next spring a big Frencharmy is coming, and they will set the Germans running so that they won'tstop till the last man gets on board ship, and ould Ireland is free fromthem, the murthering haythens. But you must be careful, lads, and not letout to a sowl that ye have been wid the boys in the west, or it's shortwork they would make of you. "

In every case they were asked questions about sons or relations with thearmy, and were often able to give news as to where the regiments to whichthey belonged were stationed, and of the part they had taken during thelast year's fighting. News travelled slowly, and was circulatedprincipally by means of travelling peddlers, who hawked their wares fromvillage to village, and reported what was going on in the outside world. Thus, although the peasants were aware of the general details of thefighting which had taken place, they knew nothing of the part which thevarious regiments had borne in it. Reading and writing were rareaccomplishments, and the post was altogether interrupted, so that manyremained in suspense, from the beginning to the end of the war, as to thefate of those who had left them to take part in it. 

The friends did not make long journeys, for Walter was unaccustomed towalk barefooted, and his feet at first were very sore and tender; but bythe time they reached Dublin they had hardened, and he was able to stridealong by the side of Larry, who, until he started with him for the war, had never had on a pair of shoes in his life. 

As soon as they reached Dublin, they made their way to the quartersinhabited by the working classes. There Walter purchased shoes, and madesuch alteration in their attire as to do away with their country aspect, and give them the appearance of two young fellows belonging to the town. Having hired a room, and made these changes, they sallied out. 

The streets were thronged with foreign troops, who behaved as if in aconquered country, swaggering along the streets, pushing the citizens outinto the middle of the road, abusing the tradesmen who refused to partwith their goods at nominal prices, making insolent remarks to any womanwho hurried past them, and behaving with a freedom and license whichshowed how completely all bonds of discipline were relaxed. 

"They look mighty bould, " Larry whispered, "but it's mighty little of itthey show when they see the Irish horse advancing agin them. No one wouldthink, to see them now, as they were the men we saw spurring away for thebare life on Boyne Water. "

"No, indeed, Larry, " agreed Walter, who was furious at what he saw. "Iwish we had a few squadrons of Sarsfield's horse here. We would clear thestreet of these vermin in no time. But you must be careful, Larry. Whatever happens, we must not get into any brawl. We have a mission toperform, and must not think of ourselves. "

"I will remember it, yer honour. "

It was well that Larry had been warned, for the next moment a Germansoldier passing brushed against him, and then, with a savage oath, turnedand struck him to the ground. Larry sprung up with his eyes blazing withpassion, but he caught Walter's warning "Larry, " and, hanging his head, moved away without a word. 

"That's right, Larry, " Walter said approvingly. "I was afraid for amoment that you were going to spring at that fellow. If you had you wouldhave been in a lockup in five minutes, and as you could have given nogood account of yourself, there you might have remained for weeks. "

"If ever I meet that fellow outside Dublin, " Larry muttered savagely, "Iwill pay him for the blow he gave me. "

Seeing the risk of another encounter of the same kind, Walter led the waydown to the bank of the river, and there they remained, chatting, untilit became dusk. 

"Now, Larry, I must begin my work. My first visit is to be to a merchant, who lives in a street close to where the ships discharge. While I am in, do you sit down on a doorstep near, and keep a sharp lookout to seewhether the house is watched. It is not likely, but all the better classof Catholics who remain in the town are regarded with suspicion. "

Walter had no trouble in finding the house he was in search of, and, knocking at the door, he told the servant who opened it that he wanted tosee the master. 

"You must come in business hours, " the man said. "He can't see you now. "

"I have a letter to him, from his friend Mr. Fitzgerald of Waterford. Ifyou tell him that, I think he will see me now. "

"That's all right, " the man said. "He tould me if anyone came with aletter from that gentleman, I was to show him up. "

So saying, he led him upstairs. 

"Here's a young man, your honour, with the letter you tould me about, from Mr. Fitzgerald. "

"Show him in, " a voice said; and Walter entered a sitting room. Thegentleman who was with him said nothing, until the door was closed behindhim. Then he asked:

"Has the ship come in?"

To which Walter replied:

"She is sailing slowly, but she will come. "

"That's right, " the merchant said, rising. "Where do you come from?"

"I am Walter Davenant, a cornet in my father's troop of horse, and I havecome direct from Limerick. I have a letter for you, in my collar. "

He pulled off his coat, the merchant handed him a knife, he ripped openthe collar, and, taking out the papers concealed there, picked out thatintended for Mr. O'Brian, which was not directed, but had only a slightmark upon it to distinguish it from the others. The merchant read it insilence. 

"I am disappointed, Mr. Davenant, " he said, as he finished it. "I hadhoped that a dash would be made at Dublin this winter; but the generalsays that it has been decided to fight one more campaign on thedefensive, and that in the autumn, when the French arrive, there will bea general advance. Now, I am ready to answer any question you areinstructed to ask. "

"In the first place, sir, how many men do you think would be ready tojoin in any rising in Dublin?"

"It would all depend upon whether an Irish army was advancing in thisdirection. In that case, some seven or eight thousand men would rise. Butunless, there were a hope of early assistance, I do not think that abovea thousand could be relied on. I have about that number on my list. They, as you see, could do nothing unassisted. There are three or four thousandtroops here, and the Protestant mob who would join them would numberseven or eight thousand, at the very least. Therefore, any attempt torise in the face of such odds, unless after a crushing defeat ofWilliam's troops, would be out of the question. But, as I said, if anarmy were marching on Dublin, the Protestants would be thinking more oftaking to their ships than fighting, and all the Catholics in the citywould then join the movement. "

"I think the general hoped that you could have mustered a stronger force, sir. "

"So I could, a year ago, " Mr. O'Brian said; "but the constant persecutionand ill treatment of the Catholics have caused large numbers of them toleave the town. Many of the younger and more determined men have madetheir way west and joined the army. I fear that the numbers I have givenare quite as many as can be relied upon. "

"The general was in hopes, " Walter said, "that a diversion might havebeen caused in the spring, by a rising in Dublin, which would, even ifunsuccessful, compel the Dutch general to keep a large force here. "

"It might have been done, six or eight months ago, " Mr. O'Brian said;"but the spirit of the people here has been very much broken, as well astheir numbers diminished. But you can rely upon it, that if anything likea general rising can be got up, we will do our share here. With but athousand men I can rely on, I feel that any open insurrection would behopeless; but we could fire the city at a score of points, night afternight, and so alarm the citizens that they would insist on a considerableforce being kept here for their protection, and this would aid ourfriends outside. I know nothing as to what is being done there, I haveonly charge of the matter inside the city. "

"I am well aware of that, sir, and have to call upon those who have thethreads of the movement, throughout the country, in their hands. I onlyarrived today, and came to you first, in order that I might know howmatters stand here before I see the others. I shall, of course, callagain upon you before I leave. "

After leaving Mr. O'Brian, Walter visited the houses of several others towhom he bore letters. The accounts of the feeling throughout the countrywere more encouraging than those which he had received from Mr. O'Brian. The hatred of the invaders was greater than ever, and the peasantry inall parts were in a state of sullen desperation. Indeed, the enemy couldnowhere move, in small parties, without the certainty of being attacked. The pressing need was arms. A great part of the peasants who owned gunshad already joined the army, and the rest possessed no weapons beyondroughly-made pikes, and scythes fixed on long handles. These wereformidable weapons in a sudden attack on any small party, but they wouldnot enable the peasants to cope, with any chance of success, againstconsiderable bodies of troops, especially if provided with artillery. 

The persons whom Walter saw were in communication with the disaffected inall parts of the country, and agreed in the opinion that a general risingshould be delayed, until some striking success was obtained by the Irisharmy, when the whole country would rise and fall upon the enemy wherevermet with. The plans for a rising having been discussed and arranged, after several interviews, at some of which most of the leaders of themovement were present, Walter prepared to start again for the camp, withthe news that the first Irish victory would be followed by a risingthroughout the country, aided by great conflagrations, if not by aserious movement in Dublin. 

The negotiations had occupied over a fortnight. During the first tendays, Larry, who always kept watch outside the house Walter was visiting, reported that nothing whatever had occurred that was in the slightestdegree suspicious. Then he told Walter, on his retiring to theirlodgings, that he fancied their footsteps were followed. 

"Do you think so, Larry?"

"I do, yer honour, " Larry replied earnestly. "Three times, when you werein the house, the same man came along the street, and each time I saw himlook up at the windows, and somehow I felt that he was following us onour way back. I looked round several times, and each time I fancied I sawa fellow slip into a doorway. "

"That is serious, Larry. You don't think anyone in this house can have asuspicion of us?"

"Not they, yer honour. They all think it's just as you say; that thevillage was burned, and we have come to look for work in the city. Besides, if it was anyone here, he wouldn't have to take the trouble totrack us back. "

"That's true enough, Larry. No; if there is a suspicion, it must be fromsome spy in the house of one of the gentlemen I have visited. We knowthat the leading Catholics are all suspected, and some of the servantsmay have been bribed to report everything which takes place in the house. We must be very careful; and let us arrange this, Larry, that if there istrouble and we get separated, we will neither of us come back to ourlodging, but will meet at that burned-out village three miles along thewestern road. If anything happens to me, go to the first house I went to, and see Mr. O'Brian, and tell him that I have been taken. If there isanything to be done he will do it. If not, make your way straight back toLimerick. I have told you exactly what has been arranged with people Ihave seen, and you can tell my father, who will report to the general. But whatever you do, don't stop here with any idea of getting me out oftheir hands. The most important thing is that they should know, atLimerick, exactly what has been arranged. If you remain here, you wouldalmost certainly be caught also, for, as the man who has followed us willbe aware that we are together, a search will at once be made for you. Somind, my orders are, that if you see I am in trouble you are at once toset out for Limerick. If you think that I may manage to get away, you arealso to leave at once, but are to wait for me, for twelve hours, at thevillage three miles out. If I do not come by the end of that time, itwill be that I have been taken, and you are to go straight on. "

It was on the evening when all the arrangements were finally settled, that a loud knocking was heard at the door of the house where eight ofthe principal persons in the affair were assembled. One of them lookedout of the window, and announced that the street was full of soldiers. All leaped to their feet, and drew their swords. 

"It is of no use to resist, gentlemen, " Walter said. "Do you put bottlesand glasses on the table, and sit down quietly. I will try to escape. Ifthey find you alone, they can prove nothing against you, and if I getsafe off, you also are safe. Is there any way out on to the roof? Nodoubt the house is watched behind. "

"There is a trapdoor, " the gentleman, in whose house they were, said, andled the way upstairs at full speed. As he was unbolting the trap, Walterran into a bedroom and seized an armful of blankets, then ran up theladder to the trapdoor, and stepped out on to the roof. The door wasclosed behind him, and he heard the bolts drawn, and then his host randownstairs and told the frightened servants to open the doors, which hadso far resisted the attack from without. Headed by an officer, thesoldiers rushed in. 

"What means this violence?" the gentleman asked. "Why is my house brokeninto in this way?"

"I arrest you, and all who are in this house, " the officer said, "on thecharge of treason. "

"Treason!" the gentleman said, coolly. "You will find no treason here. Ihave a few friends upstairs, who are cracking a bottle of port; but thatis not, so far as I am aware, against the law. "

The officer ran upstairs to the room where the others were standing, asif surprised at the tumult, round the table, on which were bottles andhalf-filled glasses. 

"Take the names of all these persons, " the officer said to the sergeantwho followed him, "and then convey them in custody to the castle. "

"There is no trouble about their names, " the host said. "All are wellknown and peaceful citizens, as can be testified by any magistrate. "

"Where is the man who was with you?" the officer said, looking round. 

"There is, so far as I am aware, no one in the house, sir, beyond thesegentlemen and my domestics. "

"It is a lie!" the officer exclaimed, furiously. "A man was seen to enterthis house, an hour and a half ago, and no one has left since. "

"A young man! Oh, I suppose you mean the young fellow who brought me amessage from my cousin, at Waterford, and who called to ask if I had yetfound him any employment. Oh yes, he has been here, but left some timeago, unless he is chatting with the maids in the kitchen. "

The officer directed a rigorous search to be made of the house. Thesoldiers soon reported that every nook and corner had been examined, butthat no one was to be found. At this moment, a shot was fired in thestreet, and a sergeant ran in. 

"Captain Peters bid me say, sir, that they have just caught sight of aman on the roof of a house, some distance along the street. "

"Take the prisoners to the castle, under a strong guard, sergeant. Youwill be answerable for their safety, " the officer exclaimed, as he randownstairs. 

Directly the trap closed behind him, Walter--sure that some minutes wouldpass before the method of his escape was known--tore the blankets he hadbrought with him into wide strips, tied the ends together, and twistedthem up into the form of a rope; then, coiling this over his arm, he madehis way along the roofs. The street below was now a mass of people. Thereport that a Popish plot had been discovered, and that a number ofimportant arrests had been made, spread quickly, as the soldiers wereseen gathered round the house. The news was sufficient to stir up partyfeelings, and the mob which collected soon set up the shout which had, oflate, been so often raised in the streets of Dublin--"Down with thePapists!"

Soon the crashing of glass was heard, as stones were hurled at thedwellings of known Catholics. Walter, anxious for the safety of Larry, who was, he knew, somewhere without, tried to look down into the streetto see what was going on, believing that in the darkness he could not beseen. The flash of a musket, and the whistle of a ball close to him, showed him that his figure had been seen against the skyline. 

Drawing back, he paused a moment in thought. The trapdoor would bediscovered at once, and a search on the roof commenced, and the soldierswould be placed behind the houses. There was no time to be lost incontinuing his search for a house with a building projecting behind, ontowhich he could lower himself with his rope, which was not nearly longenough to reach the ground. 

Looking over at the back, between two of the sharp ridges of the roofs, he hung his rope so that it would fall across a window, fastened the endround a stack of chimneys, and then, taking hold of it, swung himselfover. He had been very careful in tying the knots, and had tested them bypulling at them with all his strength; but he did not feel at all certainthat they might not draw with his weight, in which case he must have beendashed to pieces on the ground far below him; but there was no time tohesitate, and, as fast as he could, he began to slide down the rope, thefrequent knots affording good hold for his hands. 

At last he reached the window. It was made of the small diamond-shapedpanes at that time in general use. Holding the rope with one hand and hislegs, he dashed the other hand through a pane, just where he judged thefastening inside would be. Three panes were beaten in before he felt thelatch. This was easily turned. The frame opened outward, and he had somedifficulty in pulling it past him; then, grasping the woodwork, he drewhimself in, and with a great effort succeeded in gaining a sufficientholding to enable him to leave go of the rope, and make good his footinginside. 

He had little fear of the inmates of the house taking notice of the fallof glass; for, had they noticed the sound above the din in the street, they would have supposed that the breakage was caused by one of theflying stones. He ran lightly downstairs, and opened a door at the backof the house, and found himself in the yard. The wall was not very high, and a spring enabled him to get his fingers on the top. He was soonsitting there, and then dropped into the road behind. 

The sound of his fall caught the ears of the soldiers, who were stationedat the back of the house from whence he had started, some fifty yardsaway. There was a sharp challenge, and then, as no answer was given, fouror five shots were fired, and there was a rush of feet along the road. 

As it was only in the principal thoroughfares that a few lights wereexhibited, the road would have been in complete darkness had not theclouds, just at that moment, blown away from the face of the moon, whichwas half full. 

The shots, however, had been fired hastily, and Walter dashed off at fullspeed, unhurt. He heard shouts from the roofs of the houses, and one ortwo shots were fired, but the chance of his being hit was but small. Thesound, however, told the soldiers and crowd in the front street that thefugitive was escaping at the rear, and there was a general rush down thestreet to the next turning. Walter was a hundred yards ahead, before themob reached the turning, and was rapidly distancing the soldiers who werepursuing him. Unfortunately, however, there were many people hurryingfrom all sides, attracted by the shouting and firing. Several of these, in response to the shouts of the soldiers, tried to stop him as he dashedpast, and failing to do so, at once joined in the pursuit. 

Walter saw that he must be captured, if he kept straight on, for a groupof men approaching, warned by the shouts of his pursuers, prepared toseize him. He therefore turned sharp down a narrow lane to his left. Another fifty yards he was through this, and found himself on the road, running by the side of the Liffey. Without a moment's hesitation hesprang across it, and plunged into the river. 

Even in the moment of his spring, he perceived that the tide was runningup. Had it been ebbing, he would have made down and tried to gain theshore, under shelter of the shipping moored below. But it was useless tothink of swimming against the tide. His pursuers were but a few yardsbehind him, and the second time he rose to the surface for air, two orthree shots were fired. He dived again, and when he next came up, took adeliberate look round in order to judge of his chances. 

He was now about a third of the way across. The shore he had left wasalready lined with people, and several were gathering on the oppositebank. Two or three shots struck the water close to him, and he knew thathe was visible to his pursuers. Taking a long breath, he again went underwater. He was a first-rate swimmer and diver, having bathed regularly, summer and winter, in the bay below the castle. 

He had, this time, turned his face towards the shore he had quitted. Thetide, he knew, was sweeping him up. He kept under water as long as hepossibly could, swimming his hardest. When he could keep under no longer, he turned on his back, and permitted himself to rise slowly to thesurface. 

The moment his mouth and nostrils were above water, he got rid of thepent-up air, took another breath, and sank again. He swam on until hefelt, by the ground rising rapidly in front of him, that he was close tothe edge. He then cautiously came to the surface, and looked round. 

He was close under the bank from which he had started, but two or threehundred yards higher up. The bank rose straight up, some twelve feetabove him, and he could hear persons talking close to its edge. 

"There he is. "

"No, he isn't. "

"Pretty nearly over the other side. "

"I don't see him. "

"They will catch him as he gets out. "

"I believe he has sunk. "

"He never could keep under all this time. "

"One of the bullets must have hit him. "

Then a voice in the crowd shouted, "There's his head, just in the middleof the river, " and a stone splashed in the stream. It was followed by avolley of other stones, and several musket shots in the same direction. 

Walter, having now got his breath, sank his head quietly below the waterand swam on again, keeping close under the bank. Whenever he came up forair, he listened for a moment. Shots were still being fired below him, and he knew that the attention of all upon the shores was still directedtowards the centre of the stream, and that there was but small chance ofanyone leaning over to gaze down into the water close to their feet. 

His hopes rose, as every minute placed him further from his pursuers. Hecould no longer hear voices above him when he rose, but he swam on, forupwards of a mile, and struggled up the bank well beyond the walls of thetown. He lay down a few minutes to rest himself, walked half a mile alongthe bank, and then, entering the river again, swam across, for the roadhe was to follow was on the south side of it. 

He made his way across the country until he saw a small shed. He enteredthis, and finding some hay in the loft, stripped off his wet clothes, andcrept deep into the hay to warm himself, for the water was cold, and hewas shivering from head to foot. 

As soon as it was light, he again put on his clothes and started at arun, which he maintained until he was in a thorough glow, in spite of hiswet clothing. He did not approach the village, at which he had arrangedto meet Larry, until the sun was high, and his clothes had dried so farthat they would not attract the attention of anyone who might be passing. Then he went into the deserted village and took up his place in one ofthe ruined cottages, from which he could obtain a view of the road fromDublin. 

Half an hour later, he saw Larry coming along it. Although there was noone else in sight, someone might be going the other way, and Waltertherefore remained in his hiding place till Larry was abreast of him, when he showed his head in the doorway, and called him by name. 

Larry gave a cry of joy and, rushing in, threw his arms round him andburst into tears. 

"It's a terrible fright you have given me!" he exclaimed, when he couldfind words. "I have been breaking my heart all night. Sure I thought youwere at the bottom of the river. "

"Not this time, Larry, though it was a pretty close thing. Did you see itall?"

"Sure and I did, " Larry said. "I was sitting on a doorstep, watching thehouse, when I saw the sodgers coming along. They turned up from a sidestreet, and were so close that I saw I could not get across and get thedoor opened in time to give you the alarm. Then they began to knock atthe door, and for a bit I felt so wake that I could not move. Then thecrowd began to gather, and then I said to myself, The master will try toshlip out at the back of the house. So I went round, but I found thethieves of the world waiting for ye there. But I was sure ye weren't theone to let them take ye widout a struggle for it. So I moved a bit away, and jist waited. 

"The time seemed long, when on a suddint I heard the sodgers sing out, and then fire, and set out to run. I never doubted it was you, and so offI went behindt them, as hard as I could tare. I wasn't long in coming upto them, and at first I thought ye would get clean away. Then my heartfell, when I saw those villains attempt to seize ye, but, when I thoughtit was all over, ye turned sharp off and made for the river. I was withthe first of them to get there, and I ran, accidental, against the firstsodger who got his musket to his shoulder, and there was no saying wherethe ball went to. He cursed me for a clumsy baste, and would have knockedme down, but he was in too great a hurry to load again. 

"I saw the bullets strike the water, close to you, when you came upagain. I saw you look round, and guessed ye was thinking what was thebest thing to do. Then we saw no more of ye. I didn't think you had beenhit, for I saw you go down regular, as if you were diving in the sea forpleasure; and not sharp, as you would have done if a bullet had hit you. I guessed as you were meaning to swim up the stream, and I did the onlything I could to stop them from following up, by shouting that I saw ye, and throwing a big stone into the water close to where I had seen yourhead before, knowing that, by that time, ye must be nigh a hundred yardsup. 

"The fools didn't stop to think, but they took to throwing stones, andfiring as hard as they could, and by the time they had done I knew, if yewere alive, ye must be nigh a quarter of a mile up the river. Some ofthem did run up, and I kept with them, but sorrah a glimpse of ye did weget. At last, everyone made sure that you were kilt entirely, and wenttheir ways. 

"I went off to our lodgings, but took good care not to go in. And it waswell I didn't, for, half an hour later, a troop of sodgers came up, andsome of them went in. 

"They were led by that black villain who used to come wid messages fromMr. O'Brian, and I have no doubt it was he who set the sodgers upon you. Anyhow, they didn't find much there, but four of them waited till morninginside, the others all going away, so that, if you had got out of theriver, they might catch ye in a trap. 

"I waited till they had left this morning, thinking, I suppose, that itwas no use to stay longer, and then started to see if your honour werehere. 

"Sometimes I thought I should find you, then again, I tould myself thatif you had been alive I must have seen you come up agin; for, knowing thestrength of the stream, and how fast you could swim, I could tell prettynigh about where you would come up, if you were keeping straight up theriver. How did you manage it at all, Master Walter?"

"I turned, and swam back again to the bank, Larry. I knew everyone wouldbe watching the middle of the river, and would not be looking at thewater in front of them. Of course, the stream took me up a long way. Ionly came up once, on my back, took a breath, and went down again, andthe second time I was right under the bank and well out of sight, thoughI could hear them talking above me. It was just when I looked round, then, that I saw them throwing stones and firing into the middle of theriver, two hundred yards lower down, and after that I had only to keep onswimming under water, close to the bank. "

"And that is how ye managed it! It was a grand thought, entirely, to swimback to us. I never thought of that. I was most afraid you would go forthe opposite shore, and there were plenty had gathered there, ready toseize you. I didn't think I could have missed you, if you'd kept on inthe middle, and I have been puzzled altogether as to what could havebecome of you, if ye were really alive. 

"I have got some bread in my bundle here, and a bottle of spirits, andyou had better have a bite and a sup before we go on, for it's prettynigh as white as a ghost ye are. "

The meal seemed to put new life and strength into Walter, and, after itsconclusion, he was ready to step out again with fresh energy. Theythought it better at once to leave the road, and tramp across thecountry. By so doing they avoided all parties of the English troops, andreached the Irish army without adventure. Walter at once reported himselfto General Sarsfield, and related all that had taken place in Dublin. 

"You have done excellently, Mr. Davenant, and your escape from capturewas an extraordinary one. Unfortunately, the betrayal of what was doing, and the arrest of our friends, is likely to upset all the plans you hadarranged. "

"I hope not, sir, " Walter said. "I know that they were all careful tohave no written documents, for it was always possible that the houses ofthe Catholics might be searched. "

"That may be so, " the general said; "but I fear that this traitor willhave managed to overhear some of the conversation; and the fact of theirmeeting, and of your escape, will in itself tell against themsufficiently to ensure their being kept in prison, at any rate for aconsiderable time; and, even if released, they would be suspectedpersons, and would be unable to make the slightest move. "

The general's previsions were justified. The whole of those arrested wereretained in prison for some months, and no such general rising as hadbeen planned was ever carried into effect. 

During the winter, stores and ordnance arrived from France for the supplyof the Irish army, and from England for the use of the British, and agreat number of officers from the Continent also joined both armies. 

The discontent among the Irish at the apathy of France was extreme. Theyhad embarked in the war on the strength of the promises of King Louis. None of these promises had been fulfilled. The supplies of arms and moneyhad been most meagre, the few thousand troops sent had never taken partin any of the operations, and their coming had been much more thancounterbalanced by the troops sent from Ireland in exchange for them. Anadditional cause of discontent was given by the fact that Williamexchanged all the prisoners taken in Ireland for Dutch prisoners, in thehands of Louis, and the Irish so handed over were all incorporated in theFrench army. 

So great was the discontent that, had a proclamation of pardon andprotection been offered, the whole Irish army would have disbanded, andall resistance ceased. But Louis, alarmed at finding that it was likelyWilliam would be freed from his troubles at home, and be at liberty togive his whole attention to the war on the Continent, sent fresh promisesof large and speedy aid; and despatched General Saint Ruth to take thecommand in Ireland, in place of Lauzun, who had returned to France. 

This appointment caused fresh discontent among the Irish. Their cause hadalready been well-nigh ruined by the interference and incapacity of theFrench generals, and, on the retirement of Lauzun, they had confidentlyexpected that Sarsfield would be appointed commander-in-chief, and thathenceforth there would be unity of design in their operations. Saint Ruthwas accompanied by a large number of young French officers, whosedemeanour still further widened the breach between the French and Irish. 

Saint Ruth at once inspected the army, now concentrated between Limerickand Athlone. Except that there was a great deficiency in horses for thecavalry, the army was greatly improved in discipline and appearance sincethe battle of the Boyne, for both officers, petty officers, and men hadlearned their duties. The army had passed the winter in comfortablequarters, and had been well supplied with food. 

The difficulty was to find horses. The rapparees had carried off many ofthe chargers of the English cavalry, by stratagem, and it was a commonpractice of the Danish and other foreign troops to sell their horses tothe Irish, at the outposts, and pretend that they were stolen. Still, thesupply was altogether insufficient, and Saint Ruth, finding that he couldnot get horses from the enemy, determined to take them from his friends. 

A proclamation was accordingly issued, inviting all the gentry throughoutthe country held by the Irish, to meet him at Limerick, mounted andaccoutered in the best manner. Reports were spread that an importantcommunication was to be made to the gentlemen of the country, from KingJames, and that many marks of honour and distinction were to beconferred. 

Accordingly, there was a very numerous attendance of gentry on the dayfixed. Saint Ruth appeared on the ground with a large body of cavalry. Hemade a speech to the gentlemen--complimented them on their punctualattendance and gallant appearance; told them that it was necessary thatevery man should make sacrifices for the defence of his religion and hisestates, and requested them to hand over their horses to the cavalry. Hethen at once rode off the ground, leaving the cavalry to take possessionof the horses. 

Anger and expostulation were useless, and the gentlemen had to return onfoot, sadder men; but the army obtained a large and valuable addition ofhorses, and Saint Ruth was able to march out at the head of twentythousand foot, and five thousand well-appointed cavalry. 

Their direction was Athlone, towards which point Ginckle was alsodirecting his movements, having assembled his whole force at Mullingar, withdrawing the garrisons from almost all the towns, in order to raisehis force in the field. The alarm in Dublin was, in consequence, extreme, and the council and lords justices besought Ginckle not to leave themwithout protection; but he only replied that they had it in their ownpower to put an end to the war, by publishing such a declaration ofpardon and security, for person and property, as would satisfy the Irishin James's army. But the council, even in this moment of alarm, refusedto renounce their golden hopes of confiscation. 

Ginckle's first attack was directed against the village of Ballymore, which lay between Mullingar and Athlone. It was defended by a thousandcavalry and infantry, and a sergeant and a few men were posted, in acastle, on an eminence some distance from the village. The first attackwas made on the castle, but the sergeant and his little garrison made along and gallant resistance, and the savage Dutchman was so infuriated atthe opposition that, when at last the post was taken, he ordered thegallant sergeant to be at once hung. 

He then sent word to the garrison of the village that, if they did notsurrender, he would serve them as he had served the sergeant. They wereunmoved by the threat, and made a long and gallant defence against thewhole of Ginckle's army; and the Dutch general was unable to overcometheir resistance, till he at last offered fair terms of surrender. Theposition being a strong and important one, Ginckle spent some days inadding to the defensive works the Irish had erected, before he movedforward and sat down in front of Athlone. His army was well provided withheavy artillery and everything necessary for a siege, and he was firmlyresolved that there should be no repetition of the disastrous failure ofthe preceding autumn. 

Chapter 14: Athlone. 

The Irish had, this time, determined to defend not only that portion ofAthlone situated on the west of the river, but the English town on theeast. The fortifications here were repaired and added to, and the townwas abundantly supplied with stores and ammunition. It was, however, unable to resist the heavy artillery which Ginckle brought to playagainst it. Walls, buildings, and towers crumbled beneath the heavycannonade; and although the Irish repelled, with great slaughter, severalassaults upon it, the place became at last untenable, and they abandonedthat part of the town, and retired by the bridge across the river to theIrish town. 

The British, on entering the eastern town, found it a mere mass of ruins, with the dead bodies of the soldiers lying everywhere, half covered withthe wreck of the works they had died in defending. The taking of thisportion of Athlone had cost Ginckle dearly, and he was but little nearerthe object of his efforts, for he was separated from the Irish town bythe Shannon, and the western arch of the bridge was broken down by thedefenders. 

Eleven large guns and three mortars now came up from Dublin, and heerected a succession of batteries upon the ruins of the English town, andopened fire upon the castle of Athlone, which, although a building ofgreat strength, soon crumbled into ruins beneath the fire of the heavyartillery brought to bear upon it. A mill, which stood in the river, andwas connected with the bridge, was set on fire, and the sixty soldiersposted in it, being unable to escape, were all burned. Night and day, seven great batteries played incessantly upon the town. 

On the 26th of June, thirty waggons loaded with powder and a hundredcarts with cannon balls arrived from Dublin, and enabled the besiegers tokeep up their fire without intermission. The interior of the town wasreduced to ruins--nothing remained erect save the city walls, in whichthe breaches, as fast as they were made, were repaired by the Irish. Theslaughter among those so employed was very heavy; but there was no lackof men, the places of those who fell being at once supplied by otherswilling to give their lives in the defence of the town. 

At last, there was nothing more that the besiegers could do. The town wasreduced to ashes, but the river and the broken arch still separated themfrom the ruins. To remain much longer where they were was impossible, forthe country on every side was exhausted, and no longer afforded food forman or horse. The country people had fled, from the cruelty andspoliation of Ginckle's foreign soldiery, carrying with them all theireffects; and the Irish light troops and armed peasantry hovered round thecamp, laid the country waste, and intercepted their supplies andcommunications with Dublin. 

Ginckle held a council of war, to consider what was to be done. It wasadmitted that they must force the passage of the river without loss oftime, or submit to the alternative of retreat, and the utter failure ofthe campaign. It was finally resolved to attempt the passage of thebridge by throwing a wooden gallery over the broken arch, and forcingtheir way across, at all cost. Additional batteries were now raised onthe bank of the river, and a heavy fire was poured, without intermission, upon the Irish on their side of the broken arch. 

Both parties had erected a breastwork on the bridge, at their respectivesides of the breach, and from behind this, day and night, a continuedmusketry fire was kept up, the grenadiers of the English army throwinggrenades into the enemy's works. After some days, the breastwork on theIrish side was set on fire by the continued assault of shot and grenades. The wattles of which it was composed, dried by the hot weather, were soonin a blaze, and, under cover of the flames and smoke, the English ranforward the great beams they had prepared in readiness, and threw themacross the gap in the bridge. 

The fire from all the batteries on the English side was directed againstthe burning breastwork, while the grenadiers hastened to lay planksacross the beams to complete the bridge. The work was well-nigh done whenan Irish sergeant and ten men, all clad in armour, leaped through theflames of the breastwork, and began to hew with their axes at the beamsand planks. 

For a moment, the British were paralysed at the daring action. Then thebatteries and musketry fire again opened, a storm of shot and bulletsswept across the bridge, and the whole of the gallant fellows fell dead;but in a moment another party, similarly armed, dashed through the flamesand took their places. 

Regardless of the fire they whirled their axes. Nine fell, but the lasttwo gave the final stroke to the beams. The bridge fell with a crash intothe river below, and the two survivors recrossed the breastwork andjoined their friends within, amid the wild enthusiasm of the defenders;an enthusiasm in which even the baffled assailants joined, for theBritish grenadiers gave a cheer, in token of their admiration at thegallantry and devotion of the deed. 

In all history, there is no record of a more gallant action than this, performed by two sergeants and twenty men, who thus encountered almostcertain death to maintain their post. The destruction of the temporarybridge filled Ginckle and his officers with consternation, and the mannerin which their design had been baffled showed the spirit of thedefenders, and the magnitude of the task which they had undertaken. 

But it was resolved, at another council which was called, to attempt onemore effort before abandoning the enterprise. A finished platform wasconstructed. This was to be thrown over the arch, and a chosen body ofthe bravest troops in the army were to throw themselves across, and tryto force a passage. At the same time, a division was to cross the riverby a ford near the bridge, and another to attempt to cross by a bridge ofpontoons, prepared in readiness. 

The Irish were informed, by French deserters, of what was going on in theEnglish camp, and early on the morning of the assault, several strongdivisions of the Irish army were seen marching down from the camp, twomiles away, into the town. Here they were drawn up, in readiness torepulse the assault. 

The British were some time before they were ready for the attack, but atten o'clock the whole army stood in close order, ready to advance. 

The first to move forward were those who were to carry the bridge. TheIrish guns, which still remained intact, opened upon them, but theypressed forward along the bridge to the broken arch, and, with lesstrouble than had been anticipated, threw the platform across it. Insteadof rushing forward at once, the grenadiers stood behind their breastworkand hurled their grenades at the Irish grenadiers, who stood in closeorder on the opposite edge. 

These, however, stood their ground, and hurled their grenades with greateffect into the column. One of these exploded against the Englishbreastwork and set it on fire. It at once blazed up. A strong west windwas blowing, and drove the smoke and flames into the faces of the Englishgrenadiers, who for some time strove in vain to extinguish the flames, notwithstanding the heavy fire which the defenders poured into them. Theyhad at last to fall back, and the Irish, sallying from behind theirbreastwork, pulled down the burning timbers on to the bridge, which wassoon in flames. 

The other divisions of the English army, finding that the grenadiers onthe bridge made no progress, did not attempt to perform their part of thework, and finally the whole retreated to their camp. 

That evening, another council of war was held. Matters now lookeddesperate, and the fact that the enterprise had, this time, failed owingto the hesitation of the troops to push forward to the attack of theenemy, made the prospect appear more hopeless. Nevertheless, in spite ofthe opposition of Generals Ginckle and Mackey, the council determinedthat one more attempt should be made, and that this should be carried outat daylight next morning, in the hopes of taking the Irish by surprise. 

It was accordingly given out that the army would retreat in the morning, and the heavy guns were withdrawn from the batteries. Saint Ruth, who wasconvinced that Athlone could not be taken, and who had spent the greaterportion of his time in entertaining the ladies and gentry of theneighbourhood with balls and fetes, fell into the trap, and, contrary tothe opinion and advice of the Irish generals, recalled from the town theregiments which had marched in that morning, and replaced them with onlythree battalions of inferior troops. The Irish officers remonstratedwarmly, but Saint Ruth, to show his disdain for their opinions, invited alarge party of ladies and gentlemen to an entertainment in the evening. 

In the night, the British army prepared for the attack. The commanders ofthe respective divisions all led their troops in person. 

The garrison of the town were all asleep. In Saint Ruth's camp thefestivities were over, and the general and his officers had retired. TheIrish sentinels, who noted the movement in the British camp, supposedthat they were mustering to retreat, and thus the three British columnsdrew up inside the town wall, in readiness to advance, without a notionof their purpose being entertained on the opposite side of the river. 

One column, headed by sixty chosen men in complete armour, was to crossthe bridge and throw a platform over the arch; another to cross by theford: the third by a pontoon bridge. When the church bell tolled six, thethree columns advanced simultaneously, and, before the Irish werethoroughly awake, the leading battalions had forded the river, theplatform was in its place, and the troops pouring into the town. 

A few guns were hastily discharged, and then the men of the three Irishregiments in the town fled in haste, to avoid capture by the columnspouring across the river by the ford and pontoon bridge. Many, indeed, were captured whilst asleep. Saint Ruth, roused from sleep by the soundof cannon, ordered the troops to arms, but it was too late. The town, orrather its ruins, were in the possession of the British, and thebrilliant success, which had been won by the valour and determination ofthe Irish troops, was forfeited by the carelessness, folly, andself-confidence of the French general. 

Had he listened to the advice of the Irish officers, the attempt, likethose which had preceded it, must have failed, and in that case there wasnothing remained to Ginckle but a precipitous retreat to Dublin, with theloss of the whole of the advantages gained in the previous campaign, andthe necessity of bringing the war to an end by the concession of therights and privileges of the Irish Catholics and landowners. The wholecourse of history was changed by the folly of one man. Ginckle had takenAthlone, but it was at a vast cost of life, and he was more than everimpressed with the magnitude of the task of subduing Ireland, so long asthe people were driven to desperation by the threatened confiscation ofall their lands, and by the persecution of their religion. King William, too, was more anxious than ever for the termination of hostilities, and, on the very day that the news of the fall of Athlone reached him, heissued a proclamation offering protection, security of all possessions, and continuance in any offices which they held under James, to all whowould lay down their arms in three weeks' time. 

The issue of such a proclamation as this, a year before, would havesatisfied the Irish and put a stop to the war; but it was now too late. The promises made had been broken, over and over again, and the Irish hadbut too much reason to fear that, when all opposition ceased, the counciland their train of greedy adherents would again obtain the ascendency, and would continue their work of spoliation and robbery. 

Moreover, the Irish army did not feel itself in any way beaten. It wasnot its fault that the second siege of Athlone had not terminated as theformer siege and that of Limerick had done, and that Ginckle's army wasnot hurrying back, defeated and disorganized, to Dublin. They felt that, at the battle of the Boyne, they had suffered no defeat, although, inaccordance with the general plan, they had fallen back, and they eagerlydesired to fight one battle to prove that, in the open field, they weremore than a match for the mercenaries of King William. 

The council and lords justices, who were aghast at the proclamation, which threatened to destroy their hopes of dividing among themselves andtheir friends all the lands of the Catholics of Ireland, did their bestto prevent its acceptance, by spreading rumours that it was a mere bait, and that its promises would not be fulfilled; while Saint Ruth and hisFrench officers did their best, also, to set the Irish against it. 

Saint Ruth, who was really a good officer, was conscious that, so farfrom having gained credit, as he had expected from a command in Ireland, the misfortunes which had happened were entirely attributed to him, andhe longed for an opportunity of wiping out the slur on his militaryreputation. He therefore urged upon the Irish generals that Ginckle hadindeed gained but little; that all the hopes of William rested upon thatarmy alone; and that, with its defeat, they could demand and obtain anyterms they liked to lay down; besides which, he was able to assure them, by his advices from France, that Louis was making preparations forassisting them on a vastly larger scale than he had previously done. Thus, from a combination of circumstances, the proclamation elicited noresponse. 

While the siege of Athlone was being carried on, the main body ofSarsfield's cavalry remained, for the most part, in the camp near thetown; but commanders of small bodies of men, like the corps of CaptainDavenant, which were regarded as irregulars, had liberty of action. Somemade long raids to the east, and often spread confusion and dismay amongthe enemy, by appearing suddenly when no Irish troops were believed to bewithin a hundred miles. Some went down and joined the peasants, who werekeeping up desultory fighting in the neighbourhood of Cork, harassing theEnglish whenever they moved from one point to another, or sent outparties to collect forage or provisions. 

Captain Davenant, who had more than once respectfully urged uponSarsfield the immense benefit which would result, were the whole of theIrish cavalry to place themselves upon the line of the enemy'scommunication, finding that the Irish general was unmoved by hisarguments, several times endeavoured to carry out his ideas, as far ascould be done with his own small force. 

The inactivity of the Irish horse, throughout the long sieges of Athloneand Limerick, except only upon the occasion of the raid upon the siegetrain, is almost inexplicable. They had nothing to fear from the enemy'scavalry, to whom they proved themselves immensely superior, whenever theymet during the war, and they had it in their power, for months, to cutthe British communications and so oblige them, either to detach so largea force to keep the roads open that they would have been unable to pushon the siege, and would indeed have been in danger of being attacked anddestroyed by the Irish infantry; or to raise the siege, and fall backupon their bases, Dublin and Waterford. 

The only possible explanations that can be offered are--first, thatSarsfield, although a dashing commander in action, was possessed of nomilitary genius whatever; second, that he was prevented from moving bythe jealousy of the French commanders-in-chief, who did not wish to seethe credit of compelling the enemy to fall back monopolized by the Irishcavalry; or, third, that Sarsfield saw the advantages which could beobtained by throwing himself, with his cavalry, in the rear of the enemy, but deliberately remained inactive rather than leave the French generalsto act, unchecked by his presence at headquarters. It can never bedecided to which of these alternatives it was due that the Irish cavalryremained for so long a time inactive, and that William, and after himGinckle, were permitted, unmolested save by a few detached bodies ofhorse, to maintain their long line of communications to their base, unchecked. 

Upon one of his excursions in the rear of the English army, CaptainDavenant's troops dashed down upon a convoy of waggons. The dragoons whowere escorting them were killed or driven off. The drivers were collectedin a group, for Captain Davenant always ordered that these men should notbe injured, as they were not combatants, and were in most cases obligedto accompany their teams, which had been requisitioned for the service. 

The men were collecting the waggons together, preparatory to setting themon fire, when Walter, on riding near the group of drivers, heard himselfcalled by name. Turning round, he leapt from his horse and ran up to oneof the prisoners. 

"My dear John!" he exclaimed, "I am glad indeed to see you. Why, whatbrings you here?"

After exchanging hearty greetings, Walter led him away from the group, and the two sat down together on a bank. 

"What brings you here?" Walter repeated. 

"All the waggons within miles round Dublin have been requisitioned, " Johnsaid; "and as our three were called for, my father suggested that Ishould accompany them, to see that the horses were fed and cared for. "

"Which are your waggons?" Walter asked. 

"The three last in the column. "

Walter immediately ran to his father, told him what had happened, andbegged that the three waggons should be exempted from the generaldestruction. Captain Davenant at once rode up to the men, and ordered thewaggons to be unloaded and their contents added to the pyre which wasbeing prepared, but that the waggons themselves should be taken back aquarter of a mile along the road, and left there under the charge oftheir drivers, who were not to move until joined by their owner. He thenrode back, and shook hands with John. 

"I am glad to see you, " he said. "All are well, I hope, at both ourhomes?"

"Quite well, sir. "

"Thank God for that! Now, I must leave you to see that our work isthoroughly carried out. You will find your waggons safe, a quarter of amile along the road. I will leave you to tell all the home news toWalter, who will retell it to me afterwards. "

"Now tell me all the news, " Walter said, when they were together again. 

"The news is not altogether pleasant, " John replied. "The whole of thecountry round Dublin is being harried by the cavalry in garrison there. They pay no attention whatever to papers of protection, and care butlittle whether those they plunder are Protestant or Catholic, friend orfoe. They go about in small parties, like bands of brigands, through thecountry; and those who go to Dublin to obtain redress for their exactionsare received with indifference, and sometimes with insult, by theauthorities. Then, too, we have had trouble at home. 

"My grandfather became more bigoted than ever, and would, if he had thepower, have annihilated every Catholic in Ireland. My father and he hadfrequent quarrels, and I was in daily expectation of an open breachbetween them, and of my father giving up his share of the property, andtaking us to England. He was a backslider, in my grandfather's eyes. Thetales of battle, plunder, and murder seemed to have taken the latter backto his own fighting days; and he was rather inclined to consider thegenerals as lukewarm, than to join in the general indignation at theiratrocious conduct. 

"Even the sufferings of the Protestants did not seem to affect him. TheLord's work, he said, cannot be carried on without victims. It horrifiedme to hear him talk. If this was the religion of our fathers, I was fastcoming to the conclusion that it was little better than no religion atall. 

"I think my father and mother saw it in the same light, and the breachbetween them and my grandfather daily widened. But I have not told youthe worst, yet. A party of cavalry rode up the other day, and were about, as usual, to seize upon some cattle. My father was out, and mygrandfather stepped forward and asked them 'how they could lay it totheir consciences to plunder Protestants when, a mile or two away, therewere Catholics lording it over the soil--Catholics whose husbands andsons were fighting in the ranks of the army of James Stuart?'

"I was in the house with my mother, but we heard what was said; and shewhispered to me to slip out behind, and find my father, and tell him whatwas being done. I made off; but before I had gone a quarter of a mile, Isaw the soldiers riding off towards the castle, with my grandfatherriding at their head. I was not long in finding my father, who at oncecalled the men off from their work, and sent them off in all directionsto raise the country; and in an hour two hundred men, armed with anyweapon they could snatch up, were marching towards the castle, my fatherat their head. There were Catholics and Protestants among them--thelatter had come at my father's bidding, the former of their own freewill. 

"We hurried along, anxiously fearing every moment to see flames rise fromthe castle. Fortunately, the soldiers were too busy in plundering tonotice our approach, and we pounced down upon them and seized themunawares. They were stripping the place of everything worth carryingaway, before setting it on fire. We burst into the hall, and there was asight which filled my father and myself with anger and shame. Yourgrandmother was standing erect, looking with dignity mingled with disdainat my grandfather; while your mother, holding your brother's hands, stoodbeside her. My grandfather was standing upon a chair; in his hand he helda Bible, and was pouring out a string of denouncing texts at the ladies, and was, at the moment we entered, comparing them to the wicked who hadfallen into a net. 

"I don't think, Walter, his senses are quite right now. He is crazed withreligion and hate, and I believe, at the time, he fancied himself in themeeting house. Anyhow, there he was, while two sergeants, who weresupposed to be in command of the troop, were sitting on a table, with aflagon of wine between them, looking on with amusement. Their expressionchanged pretty quickly, when we rushed in. 

"It needed all my father's efforts to prevent the whole party being hung, so furious were all the rescuers at the outrage upon the good ladies ofthe castle. But my father pointed out to them that, although such apunishment was well deserved, it would do harm rather than good to theladies. They had orders of protection from the lords justices; and heshould proceed at once, with four or five witnesses, to lay the matterbefore the general at Dublin, and demand the punishment of the offenders. But if the party took the law into their own hands, and meted out thepunishment the fellows deserved, the facts of the case would be lostsight of. There would be a cry of vengeance for the murder, as it wouldbe called, of a party of soldiers, and it would serve as an excuse forharrying the whole district with fire and sword. 

"Having at last persuaded the angry tenants and peasantry to lay asidetheir project of vengeance, my father went to the soldiers, who, tiedhand and foot, were expecting nothing short of death. He ordered alltheir pistols and ammunition to be taken away, and their bonds to beloosed; then told them that their escape had been a narrow one, and that, with great difficulty, he had persuaded those who had captured them whileengaged in deeds of outrage and plunder to spare them; but that acomplaint would at once be made before the military authorities, and thelaw would deal with them. Finally, they were permitted to mount and rideoff, after having been closely examined to see that they were taking withthem none of the plunder of the house. 

"Everything was then carefully replaced as they had found it; and myfather at once rode off, with six of the leading tenants--threeProtestants and three Catholics--and laid a complaint before the general. The latter professed himself much shocked, and lamented the impossibilityof keeping strict discipline among the various regiments stationed in thetowns. However, he went down with them at once to the barracks of theregiment, ordered them to be formed up, and asked my father if he couldidentify the culprits. 

"My father and those with him picked out fifteen, including the twosergeants, as having formed part of the body of plunderers; and thegeneral had the whole tied up and flogged severely, then and there, anddeclared that, the next time an outrage upon persons who had receivedletters of protection came to his ears, he would shoot every man who wasproved to have been concerned in it. He also gave orders that awell-conducted noncommissioned officer, and four men, should be sent atonce to Davenant Castle, and should there take up their quarters as aguard against any party of marauders, with the strictest orders to causeno annoyance or inconvenience to the inhabitants of the castle. 

"I learned afterwards that Mr. Conyers, who had been interesting himselfgreatly on behalf of the ladies of the castle, is a great friend of thelords justices, and other members of the council, and is also acquaintedwith the general, which will account for the prompt measures taken topunish the marauders--a very rare and exceptional matter, I can tellyou. "

"I am sure we are greatly indebted to your father and you, for sopromptly taking measures to assist my mother, " Walter said. "I have nodoubt the castle would have been burned, as well as plundered, if it hadnot been for your rescue of them. "

"It is not worth thinking about, Walter. We are heavily your debtors, still, for the kindness of your father and yourself to me at Derry, andindeed on all other occasions. Besides, it was the least we could do, seeing that it was my grandfather's hatred of your family which broughtthe matter about. "

"What became of your grandfather, " Walter asked, "when you interruptedhis sermon?"

"He fell down in a fit, " John replied; "and perhaps it was the best thinghe could do, for I don't know what my father and he would have said toeach other, had it not been so. He was carried home, and he has not beenthe same man since. I don't think the subject was ever alluded to betweenmy father and him; but I think that being balked, just at the moment whenhe thought he had obtained the object of his hopes and prayers for thelast forty years, has almost broken his heart. 

"He goes about the house, scarce speaking a word, and seems to have lostalmost all his energy. He has ceased to read the family prayers, and tohold forth morning and night. I do think he considers that the Lord hascheated him out of his lawful vengeance. It is awfully sad, Walter, though it is strange, to see such a travesty of religion as the tenets ofmy grandfather and some of the old men who, like him, represent the viewsof Cromwell's soldiers. 

"Their religion cannot be called true Christianity. It is the Judaism ofthe times when the Jews were among the most ignorant of peoples. To me itis most shocking, and I would infinitely rather be a Mohammedan than holdsuch a faith as theirs. I thank God that my father and mother have shakenoff such a yoke, and brought me up according to the teaching of the NewTestament, rather than that of the Old. "

By this time the waggons, with the exception of those under JohnWhitefoot's charge, had been collected in a mass, and fire had beenapplied to them. They were now a pile of flame. A few of the best andfastest looking of the horses were set aside to be carried off by thetroop. The rest were shot, as the great object of the raids was todeprive the English army of its means of transport. 

The troop then mounted. Captain Davenant and Walter took a heartyfarewell of John, and intrusted him with hastily-written letters forhome; and as the smoke of the burning train would soon bring down anyparties of the enemy who happened to be in the neighbourhood, the troopthen rode off at full speed, and arrived safely at Athlone withoutmeeting with any further adventures. 

After the fall of the city, Ginckle remained inactive some time, but, finding that his proclamation had no effect in inducing the Irish to laydown their arms, he reluctantly prepared to advance against them. In theinterval, he occupied himself in repairing the western wall of the city, and, as he had been joined by several regiments sent out to reinforcehim, he resumed his advance with a force larger than that with which hehad commenced the siege of Athlone. Before starting, he issued the mostperemptory orders against a repetition of the acts which had so disgracedhis army, and had done so much harm to the cause by banding the wholepeasantry against them. 

Saint Ruth chose his position with great skill. His camp extended morethan two miles, along a range of hills called the heights of Kilcomeden. His right was protected by a rivulet, and by hills and marshes. On hisleft was a deep glen. Beyond this, along his whole front, a vast bogextended, in most places impassable for horse or foot. On the borders ofthe bog, on the left, stood the ruins of the little castle of Aughrim, occupying the only spot of firm ground which led to the camp. 

To pass the bog at this point, it was necessary to go close by the castlewall, where there was a broken path only wide enough for two men to passabreast. The passage on the right of the bog was more open, but it wasmarshy and unsafe. 

This position was much stronger than that which the Irish had held at thebattle of the Boyne, and whereas, on that occasion, they had been veryinferior in numbers to their assailants, they were now superior by someregiments in number. In the point of artillery the English had here, asat the Boyne, an overwhelming superiority. 

Ginckle moved forward slowly and with caution, halting on the river Suckuntil he had been joined by every available soldier in Ireland. 

On the morning of the 12th of July, the British army halted on the edgeof the bog, that, like a great belt, encircled the Irish within it. Themorning was foggy, and the mist did not clear off until towards noon. TheIrish prepared for battle by having divine service performed at the headof their regiments, and Dr. Stafford, chaplain to the royal regiment offoot, and some other priests, passed through the ranks, urging upon themen their duty and obligation, as soldiers and Irishmen, to make everyeffort they could to rescue their country from the oppression of thePrince of Orange, and his army of foreigners. 

Ginckle, on his part, as at Athlone, distributed money among the troops, and promised them the plunder of the enemy's camp. As the day cleared up, the British army was put in motion, and a strong column advanced againstthe enemy's right, where stood the house and grounds of Urachree, occupied by some Irish horse. A strong detachment of Danish cavalryheaded the British column. They moved forward boldly, quickening theirpace as they approached the Irish; but, on the latter charging them atfull gallop, they wheeled about and rode off at once in disorder. 

Ginckle immediately ordered two hundred of Cunningham's dragoons, whowere considered the best cavalry in the army, to advance and drive backthe Irish horse. The dragoons advanced at a trot, but, seeing that theIrish quietly awaited their coming, they halted behind a hedge andawaited the arrival of the infantry. When these came up, the cavalryagain moved forward. 

The Irish horse now fell back on a little hill in their rear, where abody of infantry were posted. They then faced to the front and charged, and broke the English dragoons, who retreated, as the Danes had done, inconfusion. 

Eppinger's dragoons were ordered up to support Cunningham's, but theIrish horse had also received reinforcements before they arrived, and, after a fierce fight, the two English regiments were routed and drivenoff the field. 

Ginckle rallied them, added Lord Portland's horse to their numbers, andagain sent them against the Irish. These, however, had fallen back fromUrachree, and had taken up a new position upon the rivulet behind it, infront of the solid ground by which, alone, the right wing of the Irisharmy could be approached. Here they remained, waiting the onset of theBritish cavalry; but these, perceiving that the ground was becoming moreand more difficult, soon came to a halt, and then, wheeling about, fellback upon the infantry. 

Seeing the successful stand which was made, by a small body of Irishhorse, to the advance of the left wing, and that the spirit with whichhis troops were behaving was greatly inferior to that of the Irish, Ginckle called a council of war. Opinions were greatly at variance. Itwas now nearly four o'clock, and it was, at first, decided to postponethe battle till the morning, and a messenger was sent to the baggagecolumn in the rear to bring up the tents. 

But other counsels finally prevailed. The order for the tents wascountermanded, and, at half-past four, the British infantry were orderedto advance. They pressed forward, in solid masses, across the groundwhere the cavalry fight had taken place, and the Irish horse fell backbehind their infantry, who were posted behind the substantial hedgeswhich intersected the ground beyond the rivulet. A heavy musketry firewas opened upon the British infantry as they advanced, but they pressedforward, in unbroken order, till they reached the hedges. These were longand obstinately contested. 

The Irish had cut openings through the hedges by which they could retire, and, as they fell back from hedge to hedge, the advancing British werereceived by a fire from hedges on both flanks, as well as from the front. As the British poured regiment after regiment to the attack, Saint Ruthmoved some bodies of horse and foot, from his left, to the support of hisright wing. 

This movement had been foreseen by Ginckle, who now gave orders forseveral battalions of infantry to cross the bog, and attack the Irishcentre. At this point there was a path across the bog, or rather a placewhere the mud and water were not so deep as at other points, and where itwas possible for it to be forded. Ginckle had found a peasant, who, for alarge sum of money, disclosed the passage. It traversed the bog at itsnarrowest point, the hill of Kilcomeden here running out a shoulder farinto it. Four regiments entered the morass, with orders to cross it, andmake their way to the nearest hedges on the sloping ground, where theywere to post themselves till the cavalry, who were to attempt the passageby Aughrim Castle, could come round to their support. 

The first part of the passage was unopposed, but the difficulty ofpassing was great, for the men were frequently up to their waists in mud, too soft to afford any firm footing, but solid enough to render itextremely difficult for the feet to be disengaged from it. At length, asthey approached firmer ground, the Irish infantry advanced towards theedge of the bog, and received them with a steady fire. The English, although suffering heavily, pressed forward without firing a shot, tillthe ground became solid under their feet, when the Irish withdrew, and, as upon the right, took post behind the hedges which everywhereintersected the slopes. 

The English, seeing the Irish retire, pressed forward, and another fiercecontest raged in the inclosures; the Irish, according to theirpreconceived plan, falling gradually back. The British, in their ardour, forgot their orders to halt at the first hedge, and continued to pressforward, until the constantly increasing numbers of the enemy recalled totheir leaders the danger of the position. 

Before them were the heights of Kilcomeden, with a strong force drawn upto receive them, while on both flanks the enemy were crowding down, tointercept their retreat. Colonel Earl, who was the senior officer, lookedanxiously towards the right, from which quarter he expected the Britishcavalry to arrive to his assistance; but no sound reached him from thatquarter; while on the left the sound of the conflict, instead ofadvancing, appeared to recede, as if the British column was being forcedback. Advancing before his own regiment, he called upon the soldiers tostand firm, for retreat would be destruction, and the only hope was tomaintain their position till assistance arrived. 

When the Irish saw that the enemy had halted, and could not be tempted toadvance further, they poured down to the attack through the passages inthe hedges. The British might have defended these hedges, as the Irishhad done, but the soldiers saw that they would be taken in the flank andrear, and, observing a large body of cavalry ascending the hill, theywere seized with a panic. 

On the first shock of the Irish infantry, the four regiments broke andfled. They were hotly pursued, and slaughtered in great numbers, theIrish cavalry pouring through the openings in the hedges which had beenprepared for them. At length, the fugitives reached the edge of the bog, where they gathered in a confused mass; which the officers, in vain, attempted to form into order. The cavalry charged down upon them, brokeand scattered them, and drove them into the morass, followed by the Irishinfantry, who were better acquainted with the ground, and more accustomedto traversing bogs. The soldiers were driven into the deepest and mostdifficult portion of the morass, and a great slaughter took place. 

The British artillery were planted on the edge of the morass, but somingled were the two parties that they were unable to fire. Great numbersof the English were killed. Colonels Earl and Herbert, with many officersand men, were taken prisoners, and the remnant of the British were drivencompletely across the bog, to the shelter of their own cannon. 

While this was passing in the centre, another division of Ginckle's army, consisting of English and French infantry, had crossed the bog by apassage more to the right. They also had met with no opposition inpassing, and it was only when they reached the hedges, on the firmground, that the Irish showed themselves, fired, and retreated. Thisdivision, more cautious than that of Earl, could not be tempted topursue, but contented themselves with maintaining their ground under aheavy fire, awaiting anxiously the arrival of the British horse. Theycould see, however, no sign of them, but could perceive the Irish cavalrydescending in large masses, preparing to charge, while the infantry wereforming for an advance. 

So far the Irish had been successful at every point. They had repulsedevery attack made by the British left; had crushed the brigade, composedof the flower of the British infantry, which had assaulted the centre;and were now preparing to destroy the division which stood, unsupported, on their side of the bog. 

At this moment, a tumult was heard on the left wing of the Irish, thedirection from which the British division expected relief, and the Irish, aware of the importance of the pass of Aughrim, suspended their attack toawait the events there. 

Saint Ruth had directed the operations of the battle with as much skillas he had prepared for the assault. He had taken up his position on apoint of the hill whence he had a complete view of the whole field ofbattle, and had moved his troops, with calmness and judgment, to meeteach of the attacks made upon them; and when he saw the destruction ofthe English regiment in the centre, he exclaimed, in the full confidenceof victory, "Now I will drive the English to the walls of Dublin!"

There was, indeed, but one hope, on the part of the English, ofretrieving the day; namely, the success of the attempt to force thepassage at Aughrim. But two horsemen abreast could pass under the castlewalls. Saint Ruth was aware of the passage, but thought it impassable forcavalry. It might easily have been made so, by cutting a deep gap acrossit; but here, as at Athlone, his overconfidence proved his destruction. He had, however, taken the precaution to erect a battery commanding thepassage, and had placed some battalions of infantry there. 

General Talmash, who commanded the English cavalry, knew that the battlewas lost, unless he could succeed at this point; and, at the head of hiscommand, he led the way along the pass, which was not only narrow, butbroken and encumbered with the ruins of the castle wall. Saint Ruthbeheld the attempt of the cavalry with astonishment, and, with theremark: "They are brave fellows, it is a pity they should be sacrificed, "sent orders for the Irish horse to move forward and prepare to chargethem; and moved down the hill at the head of his officers to the battery. 

There is no doubt as to what the result would have been, had the Irishhorse charged. They were greatly superior in number, and the Englishcavalry who had got across the passage were still in confusion, and weresuffering from the fire of the battery, and, indeed, even when in equalnumbers, William's cavalry had never withstood the charge of the Irish. It seemed that nothing could avert the defeat of the body on whichGinckle's last hope rested. 

But at this moment one of those events, by which Providence overrules thecalculations of man, occurred. A cannonball struck Saint Ruth, as hestood in the middle of the battery and killed him instantly. Theoccurrence paralysed the Irish army. Sarsfield was away, there was no oneto give orders, the news that some extraordinary calamity had happenedspread rapidly, the men in the battery ceased firing, the cavalry, receiving no orders to charge, remained immovable. 

Talmash took advantage of the pause to get the rest of his cavalry acrossthe passage, and then, with his whole force, moved towards the centre. Ashe approached, the idea that the unknown calamity, of which they hadheard, was that the British had defeated their own left, spread among theIrish, and they began to fall back. The British column on the edge of thebog advanced, Ginckle pushed several fresh battalions across the morassin the centre, and the Irish infantry fell back, disputing every inch ofthe ground. 

The cavalry were still without orders, for strangely enough, no oneassumed the command on the death of Saint Ruth. As night came on, theretreat of the Irish infantry became a rout, but the cavalry halted onthe summit of Kilcomeden, and covered the retreat. 

The extraordinary circumstance, of the Irish army being left withoutorders after the death of Saint Ruth, has never been explained. Thecommand should have devolved upon Sarsfield, but none of the accounts ofthe battle speak of him as being present. He had certainly not beenconsulted by Saint Ruth, and had not been present at the council of warbefore the battle; for the bad feeling, which had existed between him andSaint Ruth since that general arrived, had broken out into open disputesince the fall of Athlone. But it is inexplicable that there should havebeen no second in command, that no one should have come forward to giveorders after the death of the general, that a victorious army should havebeen left, as a flock of sheep, without a shepherd. 

Up to the moment of the death of Saint Ruth, the loss of the British hadbeen very severe, as they had more than two thousand men killed andwounded, while that of the Irish was trifling. But in the subsequentstruggle the Irish, fighting each man for himself, without order orobject, were slaughtered in vast numbers, their loss being estimated bythe British writers at seven thousand men, a number which points towholesale slaughter, rather than to the loss which could have beeninflicted upon a brave army during little over an hour of daylight. 

But, crushing as the defeat of the Irish had been, the victory was farfrom inspiring William or his army with the confidence they had felt atthe outset of the war. Here, as at Athlone, it was almost a miracle whichhad saved the English from a terrible disaster. The Irish had provedthemselves fully a match for the best soldiers that William could sendagainst them, and, although their infantry had suffered terribly in therout, their ranks would be speedily filled up again; while the cavalry, the arm in which the Irish had uniformly proved their superiority, hadmoved away from the field of battle intact and unbroken. Athlone andAughrim therefore rendered William and his general more anxious than everto bring the struggle to an end, not by the force of arms, but byoffering every concession to the Irish. 

The imminence of the peril had cowed even the party of confiscation, andthey offered no opposition to the issue, by Ginckle, of proclamationsrenewing the offers of William. Ginckle himself moved forward, immediately after the battle, and granted the most liberal terms to thegarrisons of the various small posts which he came upon. On arrivingbefore Galway, he permitted that town and garrison to surrender on theterms of a pardon for all, security of property and estate, freedom ofreligious worship, and permission for the garrison to march away toLimerick, with drums beating and colours flying, the British furnishinghorses for the transport of their cannon and baggage. 

Chapter 15: A Fortunate Recognition. 

After the capitulation of Galway, Ginckle moved towards Limerick. KingWilliam, who was absent on the Continent, was most anxious for the aid ofthe army warring in Ireland, and the queen and her advisers, consideringthat the war was now virtually over, ordered transports to Ireland totake on board ten thousand men; but Ginckle was allowed a month's delay. 

He himself was by no means sanguine as to his position. The Irish armywas still as numerous as the British, and they were not discouraged bytheir defeat at Aughrim, where they considered, and rightly, that victoryhad only been snatched from their grasp by an accident. Ginckle reliedrather upon concession than force. The Irish were divided into twoparties, one of which earnestly desired peace, if they could obtain fairterms, while the other insisted that the British could not be trusted tokeep any terms they might make. Sarsfield was at the head of the warparty, and succeeded, for the present, in preventing any arrangement. 

Ginckle advanced slowly, for he had to march through a waste and desolatecountry. Sarsfield, with his cavalry, hovered round him, and interceptedhis communications, and he was so short of draught horses that it wasonly by forcing the gentry of Dublin to give up their carriage horses, for the use of the army, that he was enabled to move forward. 

It was not until the end of August that he sat down with his siege trainin front of Limerick, and prepared for the siege. For the moment, theparty in favour of peace among the Irish had been silenced by the newsthat twenty large ships of war, with a great number of transport andstore ships, were being pushed forward at Brest and other French ports tocome to their assistance. 

Ginckle occupied the same ground which William's army had taken up in thefirst siege, but directed his attacks chiefly upon the English town. Asbefore, the Irish communication was open with the county of Clare, andthe seventeen regiments of Irish horse were encamped on the Clare side ofthe river. Ginckle pushed on his works with great vigour, and the duty inthe trenches was so severe, that the cavalry were compelled to take theirturn with the infantry; but, notwithstanding that the siege artillery wasmuch more powerful than that which William had at his disposal, butlittle progress was made. The town was set on fire several times; but theflames were speedily extinguished, and, as the inhabitants had all leftthe city and erected tents on the Clare side, under the protection oftheir cavalry, little harm was done to them. 

While the siege was going on, a number of desultory engagements tookplace, in different parts of the country, between the Protestant militiawhich had been lately raised, and the bands of rapparees, with varyingsuccess. 

The season was getting late. Ginckle was again becoming straitened forprovisions, for the proclamations which he issued failed to inspire thepeasantry with any confidence. He now erected a battery, of thirty-fiveguns, against King's Island; and, after an incessant cannonade of somedays, a breach was effected in the wall between the abbey andBallsbridge. Preparations were made for crossing the arm of the Shannonand assaulting the breach; but the works constructed for crossing theriver were repeatedly destroyed by the Irish, and the idea of assaultupon the breach was, at length, abandoned. So desperate did Ginckle nowthink his position, that he issued orders for the repair of thefortifications of Kilmallock, intending to raise the siege and establishhis winter quarters there; but he postponed taking this step for a fewdays, for to do so would be to bring almost certain disaster upon hisarmy. 

The French fleet was expected to arrive shortly, and the Irish, reinforced with men, arms, and supplies of every kind, would probablyresume the offensive during the winter, and he would find himself cut offfrom all supplies and assistance. He determined, therefore, to make onemore effort before retiring. 

He had, throughout the siege, been in communication with several Irishofficers of high rank, and especially with General Clifford, whocommanded the cavalry posted on the river opposite to his camp. Theseofficers were as desirous as he was of bringing the war to an end, forthey foresaw that if, after the arrival of the French, they succeeded indriving the English out of the country, Ireland would simply become adependency of France, and they preferred the English connection to this. Ginckle determined to try, again, the same feint which had succeeded atAthlone. The workmen were kept busy repairing the works at Kilmallock, and preparing that place for the reception of the army. The greaterportion of the baggage, and a regiment of Danes, were sent forward tothat town. The batteries ceased firing, and the cannon were dismounted atseveral points, and the Irish were persuaded that the siege was about tobe abandoned. 

Meanwhile, Ginckle was busy collecting boats, and preparing a bridgeacross to a small island, which lay not far from the Clare side of theriver. On a dark night, the boats were brought up and the bridgeconstructed, and, led by six hundred grenadiers, a strong force ofinfantry, cavalry, and artillery crossed to the island, and then wadedthrough the shallow water beyond to the mainland. 

A few men, posted on the island, carried the news to Clifford, but hegave no orders to the four regiments of cavalry and two of infantry underhis command, nor did he send any notice to the camp. Some of the infantryand cavalry, however, ran without orders to the bank, and kept thegrenadiers in check until the British cavalry had crossed, and compelledthem to fall back. The British cavalry then dashed forward to the Irishcavalry camp, which they took completely by surprise. Panic stricken atthis unexpected attack, the soldiers and the citizens in the town campfled in all directions, and, great numbers rushing to Thomond Bridge, entered the city by that narrow approach. 

Had Ginckle at once pushed forward, he would have captured almost thewhole of the Irish officials and civilians on the Clare side of theriver; but, fearing an ambuscade, he halted his troops before advancingto the Irish camp, and this gave time for most of them to escape. Beingafraid that the garrison would sally out from the town, and attack hislines on the other side of the river, he recrossed the Shannon with histroops, carrying with them a crowd of civilians, among them a number ofpersons of rank, and officials with the records and public treasure. 

The confusion and surprise in the town were so great that the Irishgenerals took no steps whatever, either to hinder his passage back acrossthe river, or to attack either portion of his divided army. They knewthat treachery must have been at work, to have enabled the enemy tosurprise the camp, and, as they could not tell how far that treacheryextended, they abstained from all action. 

Captain Davenant's troop had shared in the disaster inflicted by thenight attack upon the cavalry camp. All were asleep when the Englishcavalry burst upon them. Taken utterly by surprise, and ignorant as tothe strength of the force by which they were attacked, there was nothought of resistance. Officers and men leapt from the piles of rushes, which served as beds, and rushed to their horses. The English trooperswere cutting and hewing in all directions, and, cutting the picket ropes, each man sprang on his horse and rode for his life. 

Captain Davenant had, at first, shouted to his men to keep steady; buthis words were lost in the din which prevailed, and, seeing that nothingwas to be done, he said to Walter:

"It is all over, Walter. We must ride for it, like the rest. "

By morning, the Irish cavalry was scattered all over the country, and itwas not for two or three days that they again assembled in regiments, presenting a sorry sight, the greater part having lost saddles andaccoutrements of every kind. A few troops, composed of men who had beenfortunate enough to have left their horses saddled when night came on, were sent back to Limerick. The rest drew off towards Ennis, and encampedthere until they could procure saddles and accoutrements to take thefield again. 

In Captain Davenant's troop there were but six men who had saved theirsaddles; and, as it would have been useless to send so small a detachmentto Limerick, these remained with the troop, and were, at Walter'srequest, placed entirely at his disposal, in order that with them hemight make scouting expeditions in the enemy's rear. He had permission toconsider himself entirely on detached service, and to join any body ofrapparees he might choose; but this Walter did not care about doing, forhe had a horror of the savage acts which were perpetrated by theirregular forces on both sides, and determined to confine himself towatching the roads, bringing in news of any convoys which might betraversing the country, and cutting off messengers going or returningwith despatches. 

The service was one of no great danger, for parties of peasants were onthe watch, night and day; and, the instant any movement was observed, they started off at full speed to warn all the inhabitants of thesurrounding villages to drive away their cattle, and carry off theireffects into the hills or into the heart of some neighbouring bog, wherethe cavalry would not venture to penetrate. 

One day when, with his little band, he was halting at a village, some tenmiles in rear of the camp, a peasant ran in. 

"A party of their horse have just seized some carts laden with potatoesat Kilcowan, and are driving them off. The boys are mustering to attackthem on their way back. "

"It is too bad, " Walter exclaimed. "Only three days ago, Ginckle issuedanother proclamation guaranteeing that no provisions, or other goods, should be taken by his soldiers without payment. 

"To horse, lads! We will ride out and give the peasants a helping hand, if they really mean to attack the enemy. "

Kilcowan was two miles away and, having learned from the peasant that thepeople intended to attack at a point where the road passed between twohills, a mile and a half beyond the village, he galloped on at fullspeed. He arrived, however, too late to take any part in the fight. Thepeasants had rushed suddenly down the hillsides, armed with scythes andpikes, upon the convoy as it passed below them. Several of the cavalryhad been killed, and the rest were riding off, when Walter with histroopers dashed up. They continued the pursuit for a mile, cutting off afew stragglers, less well mounted than the rest, and then returned toKilcowan, where the peasants had just arrived in triumph with the rescuedcarts of potatoes. 

"What are you going to do?" he asked, when the excitement of the welcome, accorded by the women to the captors, had subsided a little. "You mayexpect a strong body to be sent out, tomorrow, to punish you for this. "

"It's the general's own proclamation, your honour. Didn't he say, himself, that his soldiers were not to stale anything, and that theywould be severely punished if they did? And didn't he guarantee that weshould be paid for everything? He could not blame us for what we havedone, and he ought to hang the rest of those thieving villains, when theyget back to him. "

"I wouldn't be too sure about it, " Walter said. "He issued a good manyproclamations before, but he has never kept the terms of one of them. IfI were you, I would leave the village--man, woman, and child--for a fewdays, at any rate, and see how the Dutchman takes it. "

But the villagers could not be persuaded that the Dutch general woulddisapprove of what they had done, and Walter, finding his arguments of noavail, rode off with his men to the village they had left, an hourbefore; with the parting advice that, if they would not follow hiscounsel, they should, at any rate, place watchers that night on the roadstowards Ginckle's camp, to bring them news of the approach of any body ofthe enemy's cavalry. 

But the villagers were too delighted with their day's work to pay muchheed to Walter's warning, and, after a general jollification in honour oftheir victory, retired to rest, thoughtless of danger. 

It was getting dark when Walter reached the village where he haddetermined to stay for the night. He ordered the men to keep the saddleson their horses, and to hitch them to the doors of the cabins where theytook up their quarters, in readiness for instant movement. He placed onemounted sentry at the entrance to the village, and another a quarter of amile on the road towards Kilcowan. 

At nine o'clock, he heard the sound of a horse galloping up to the door, and ran out. It was the sentry at the end of the village. 

"Kilcowan is on fire, sir!"

Walter looked in that direction, and saw a broad glare of light. 

"Ride out, and bring in the advanced sentry, " he said, "as quick aspossible. "

He called the other men out, and bade them mount; that done, they sat, ready to ride off on the return of their comrades. 

"Here they come, sir, " one of the men said, "and I fancy the enemy areafter them. "

Walter listened intently. He could hear a deep thundering noise, whichwas certainly made by the hoofs of more than two horses. 

"Face about, men, trot! Keep your horses well in hand, until the otherscome up, and then ride for it. 

"Ah, what is that!"

As he spoke, there was a shout from the other end of the village, followed instantly by the trampling of horses. 

"They have surrounded us!" Walter exclaimed. "Shoulder to shoulder, lads, and cut your way through. It's our only chance. Charge!"

And, placing himself at the head, he set spurs to his horse and dashed atthe approaching enemy. 

There was a fierce shock. A horse and rider rolled over from the impetusof his charge, then he cut right and left; pistol shots rang out, and hishorse fell beneath him, shot through the head, pinning his leg beneathit. 

The fall saved his life, for four or five troopers had surrounded him, and in another moment he would have been cut down. For a time, he rangreat risk of being trampled upon, in the confusion which followed. Thensome of the troopers dismounted, he was dragged from beneath his horse, and found himself a prisoner. He was placed in the centre of the troop, the only captive taken, for two of the six men had got safe away in thedarkness and confusion, the other four had fallen. 

The English, as he afterwards learned, had, immediately they arrived atKilcowan, inquired where the Irish cavalry, who had taken part in theafternoon's fight, were quartered, and on hearing that they were but twomiles away, the officer in command had forced one of the peasants to actas guide, and to take a party round, by a detour, so as to enter at theother end of the village, just as another party rode in by the directroad. 

Walter was taken first to Kilcowan. There he found a party of twelve orfourteen peasants, surrounded by cavalry. The whole village was inflames. Several of the inhabitants had been cut down, as the cavalryentered. The rest, with the exception of those in the hands of thetroops, had fled in the darkness. As soon as the detachment with Walterarrived, the whole body got into motion, and reached Ginckle's campshortly before midnight. 

As the general had retired to sleep, they were placed in a tent, and foursentries posted round it, with orders to shoot anyone who showed his headoutside. In the morning, they were ordered to come out, and found outsidethe general, with several of his officers. 

"So, " Ginckle said, "you are the fellows who attacked my soldiers. I willteach you a lesson which shall be remembered all over Ireland. You shallbe broken on the wheel. "

This sentence was heard unmoved by the peasants, who had not the leastidea of what was meant by it; but Walter stepped forward:

"It is not these men who are to blame, but your soldiers, general, " hesaid. "Your own proclamation, issued three days ago, guaranteed that noprivate property should be interfered with, and that everything thetroops required should be paid for. Your soldiers disobeyed your orders, and plundered these poor people, and they were just as much justified indefending themselves against them, as any householder is who resists aburglar. "

"You dare speak to me!" exclaimed Ginckle. "You shall share their fate. Every man of you shall be broken on the wheel. "

"General Ginckle, " Walter said warmly, "hitherto, the foul excesses ofyour troops have brought disgrace upon them, rather than you; but, ifthis brutal order is carried out, your name will be held infamous, andyou will stand next only to Cromwell in the curses which Irishmen willheap upon your memory. "

The Dutch general was almost convulsed with passion. 

"Take the dogs away, " he shouted, "and let the sentence be carried out. "

Several English officers were standing near, and these looked at oneanother in astonishment and disgust. Two of them hurried away, to fetchsome of the superior officers, and directly these heard of the ordersthat had been given, they proceeded to Ginckle's tent. 

"Can it be true, " General Hamilton said, "that you have ordered someprisoners to be broken on the wheel?"

"I have given those orders, " Ginckle said angrily, "and I will not permitthem to be questioned. "

"Pardon me, " General Hamilton said firmly; "but they must be questioned. There is no such punishment as breaking on the wheel known to the Englishlaw, and I and my English comrades protest against such a sentence beingcarried out. "

"But I will have it so!" Ginckle exclaimed, his face purple with passion. 

"Then, sir, " General Hamilton said, "I tell you that, in half an hourfrom the present time, I will march out from your camp, at the head of mydivision of British troops, and will return to Dublin; and, what is more, I will fight my way out of the camp if any opposition is offered, andwill explain my conduct to the king and the British parliament. Enoughdisgrace has already been brought upon all connected with the army, bythe doings of the foreign troops; but when it comes to the death bytorture of prisoners, by the order of their general, it is time thatevery British officer should refuse to permit such foul disgrace to restupon his name. "

There was a chorus of assent from the other English officers, whileGinckle's foreign officers gathered round him, and it looked for a momentas if swords would be drawn. 

Ginckle saw that he had gone too far, and felt that, not only would thisquarrel, if pushed further, compel him to raise the siege and fall backupon Dublin, but it would entail upon him the displeasure of the king, still more certainly that of the English parliament. 

"There is no occasion for threats, " he said, mastering his passion. "Youtell me that such a punishment is contrary to English law. That isenough. I abandon it at once. The prisoners shall be hung and quartered. I presume that you have no objection to offer to that. "

"That, general, is a matter in your own competence, and for your ownconscience, " Hamilton said. "The men have simply, as I understand, defended their property against marauders, and they are, as I conceive, worthy of no punishment whatever. If you choose to sentence them to sucha punishment, it is your sentence, not mine. I thought it was your policyto heal the breach between the two parties. It seems I was mistaken. Personally, I protest against the execution of the sentence, beyond thatI am not called upon to go. An act of injustice or cruelty, performed bya general upon prisoners, would not justify a soldier in imperilling thesuccess of the campaign by resisting the orders of his superior;therefore, my duty to the king renders me unable to act; but I solemnlyprotest, in my own name and that of the English officers under yourcommand, against the sentence, which I consider unjust in the extreme. "

So saying, General Hamilton, with the English officers, left thegeneral's tent. If they hoped that the protest would have the effect ofpreventing the barbarous sentence from being carried into execution, theywere mistaken. The fact that, to carry out his first intention would havebeen absolutely unlawful, had caused Ginckle to abandon it, but this madehim only the more obstinate in carrying the second into execution. 

The English officers stood talking, not far from his tent, in tones ofindignation and disgust at the brutal sentence, and then walked towardstheir divisional camp. As they went, they saw a number of men standinground a tree. Some Hessian soldiers, with much brutal laughter, werereeving ropes over the arm of the tree, and, just as the officers camealong, six struggling forms were drawn up high above the heads of thecrowd. 

The party paused for a moment, and were about to pass on, their facesshowing how deep was their horror at the scene, when one of themexclaimed:

"There is an Irish officer, in uniform, among the prisoners! This cannotbe suffered, Hamilton. The Irish have several of ours prisoners in thetown, and they would rightly retaliate by hanging them on thebattlements. "

General Hamilton and the others pressed forward. 

"Colonel Hanau, " the general said to a Hessian officer, "you surelycannot be going to hang this young officer? The general can never haveincluded him with the others?"

"The general's orders were precise, " the Hessian said coldly. "Twelvepeasants and one officer were to be hung, and afterwards quartered. "

"It is monstrous!" General Hamilton exclaimed. "I will go back to thegeneral, and obtain his order for the arrest of the execution. "

"You will be too late, sir, " the Hessian said coldly. "I have my orders, and before you are half way to the general's camp, that prisoner will beswinging from that bough. "

"I order you to desist, sir, till I return, " General Hamilton said. 

"As I do not happen to be in your division, General Hamilton, and as Ihave received my orders from the commander in chief, I decline altogetherto take orders from you. "

Walter, who had resigned himself to his fate, stood watching thealtercation with a renewed feeling of hope. This died out when thecolonel spoke, and two of the troopers seized him, but at that moment hiseye fell upon one of the English officers. 

"Colonel L'Estrange!" he exclaimed. 

The officer started, at hearing his name called out by the prisoner, buthe did not recognize him. 

"I am Walter Davenant. You remember, sir, the wreck off Bray?"

"Good heavens!" Colonel L'Estrange exclaimed, pressing forward. 

"It is the lad who saved my life, General Hamilton!

"Gentlemen, this young officer saved my life at the risk of his own. Icannot and will not stand by and see him murdered. "

The Hessian colonel signed to four of his men, who seized Walter anddragged him towards the tree. Colonel L'Estrange drew his sword. 

"My men, " he shouted, to some English soldiers who were mingled with thecrowd of onlookers, which had rapidly increased during the dispute, "stand by me, and don't let this brave young officer be murdered. "

A score of soldiers pushed through the crowd, and ranged themselves byColonel L'Estrange. He dashed forward, sword in hand, and in a momentWalter was torn from the grasp of the soldiers, and placed in the centreof his rescuers, who were now joined by General Hamilton and the otherofficers. 

Several men had run off at full speed, to the British camp, to bring upaid. The Hessian colonel called upon his men to seize the prisoner, andcut down all who interfered to prevent the general's orders being carriedout. These hesitated before the resolute aspect of the English, but thecrowd of foreign soldiers ranged themselves with them, and the attack wasabout to commence, when a number of English soldiers were seen running, musket in hand, from their camp. 

The Hessian colonel saw that to attempt to carry out his orders, now, would bring on something like a pitched battle, and he therefore wavedhis men back, saying to General Hamilton:

"I have nothing to do now, sir, but to report to General Ginckle that Ihave been prevented, by force, from carrying his orders into effect. "

"That you will, of course, do, " General Hamilton said coldly. "I shall beperfectly prepared to answer for my conduct. "

There was no goodwill between the English and foreign sections ofGinckle's army, and General Hamilton had some trouble in preventing thesoldiers from attacking the Hessians, and in inducing them to retire totheir camp. As soon as he arrived there, he ordered the drums to bebeaten, and the whole division to get under arms. He then despatched anofficer to General Ginckle, narrating the circumstances, and saying thatthe honour of the whole army was concerned in preventing an officer, fairly taken prisoner in war, and not while acting as a spy, from beinginjured; and that, indeed, policy as well as honour forbade such a coursebeing taken, as there were several officers of rank in the hands of theIrish, who would naturally retaliate on them the execution of prisonersof war. He made a formal complaint against Colonel Hanau, for refusing todelay the execution until he could lay the matter before the general. Asfor his own conduct in the matter, he said he was perfectly prepared todefend it before any military court, but that court must be held inEngland, where he purposed to return at once, with the division hismajesty had intrusted to his command. 

The Dutch general had, long before he received the letter, been informedof what had taken place, and had also learned that the English divisionhad struck their tents, and were drawn up under arms. To allow them todepart would be to entail certain ruin upon the campaign, and he feltthat it was more than probable that the course Hamilton and his officershad taken would be upheld by a military court in England, and that publicopinion would condemn the execution of an officer, taken in fair fight. He therefore wrote a letter to General Hamilton, saying that he regrettedto find that he had been acting under a misapprehension, for he hadunderstood that the person claiming to be an Irish officer was in fact aspy, and that he had severely reprimanded Colonel Hanau for his refusalto delay the execution until the fact had been explained to him. Far fromfeeling in any way aggrieved that General Hamilton had interfered toprevent such a mistake from taking place, he felt much obliged to him forwhat he had done, as the execution of an Irish officer taken in warwould, in every way, have been a most unfortunate circumstance. 

General Hamilton showed the letter to the colonels of the variousregiments in the division, and these agreed that, as General Ginckle wasevidently desirous that the matter should go no further, it would be aswell to order the tents to be again pitched, and for the troops to resumetheir ordinary duties. 

"My dear Walter, " Colonel L'Estrange said, "I am happy, indeed, that wecame up when we did. What should I have felt, if I had afterwards learnedthat you, who had saved my life, had been murdered here, for yourexecution would have been neither more nor less than murder, as was thatof the twelve poor fellows who were taken at Kilcowan--a brutal murder!They were perfectly justified in defending their property, and the ideaof quartering them, as well as hanging them, just as if they weretraitors of the worst dye, is nothing short of monstrous. 

"I only came out here with my regiment a month since, but I am heartilysick with what I see going on. It was terrible to see the ruined villageson the road from Dublin. I have seen fighting on the Continent, butnothing to equal the wholesale brutality with which the war is conductedhere. How God can continue to give success, to an army which behaves asthis one has done, is altogether beyond me. Of one thing I am resolved, whether we take Limerick or not--and I own I see but small chance ofit--I shall exchange, if possible, into a regiment serving in Flanders. If not, I shall resign my commission. 

"And now, how is your father? I rode out from Dublin to see your mother, and was very glad to find her, and old Mrs. Davenant, well. I was glad, too, to find that, owing to the influence of Mr. Conyers, they had notbeen troubled; and I was fortunately able, myself, to bring someinfluence to bear upon the council, who seem to be bent upon squeezingthe last drop of blood from the Irish veins. 

"But the men are falling in, and I must put myself at the head of theregiment. I will hand you over to the care of an officer, and, if wemarch out, you will, of course, go with us. "

When the men were again dismissed, Colonel L'Estrange rejoined Walter. 

"Ginckle has thought better of it, " he said. "I fancied he would notventure to push matters further, for the loss of the one division he canreally rely upon would be fatal to all his hope of success to thecampaign. Ginckle is a passionate man, but he is not a fool, and he musthave seen that, if the matter had been laid before the king, his conductwould not have been approved. I don't say that ours is right, in amilitary sense, but I am sure that public opinion would have approved ofit. The tales that have been circulated, of the doings of the army overhere since the commencement of the war, have already roused a very strongfeeling of irritation throughout the country. "

Colonel L'Estrange now took Walter to General Hamilton's tent, and, afterformally introducing him, he told the story of the wreck, and of hisrescue by Walter from certain death. 

"What do you mean to do with him, L'Estrange?" General Hamilton asked. 

"My intention is, unless you see any objection to it, to pass him throughthe lines this evening. I will provide him with a good horse, and see himwell away. After what has happened Ginckle will, I should say, feelobliged for our thus rendering him a service by getting rid of hisprisoner. There are not likely to be any questions asked or remarks madeafterwards. I am not without influence at court, and there is a verystrong section, who are bitterly opposed to Dutchmen being placed inevery post in the king's gift, and there would be no difficulty ingetting up such a hostile feeling against Ginckle, in relation to thisaffair, that it would cost him his command. "

"Yes, " the general agreed. "Marlborough would be only too glad to takethe matter up, and as Ginckle must be pretty well aware that his want ofsuccess here must have already made his position precarious, I do notthink he will trouble himself to ask any questions about the prisoner;and, certainly, William will not thank him for being the means, by hisunjust and arbitrary conduct, of causing a split between the English andhis foreign troops. I should like to put all their heads into one noose, and I should feel no compunction in setting them swinging, for a greaterset of rascals were never collected under the sun. I must say that thecontrast between our army and the Irish is very great, and that, althoughmany bloody deeds are performed by the rapparees, there has never been asingle complaint brought against the Irish troops. 

"Anyhow, Mr. Davenant, I think you cannot do better than fall in withColonel L'Estrange's plan. There will be no difficulty in getting out, and, indeed, I will send a troop of cavalry to see you well beyond ourlines. "

Walter spent the rest of the day with Colonel L'Estrange, and told himall that had taken place since they had last met. 

"It is difficult to believe that it is but three years ago, " he said, when he had finished. 

"No, we judge the flight of time by the incidents we crowd into it. Themost uneventful days pass the most unheeded. Now to me, it seems butyesterday that I stood on the deck of the ship, and knew that she wassure to go to pieces, and that the chance of anyone reaching that rockycoast alive were small, indeed; when I saw what seemed little more than ablack speck approaching, and you and your fisher boy made your way overthe wave. 

"By the way, how is he? Doing well, I hope?"

"He might have done well, if he liked. The present that you left in myfather's hands, to buy him a boat when he was old enough to start as afisherman on his own account, would have made a man of him, but it ishidden somewhere in the thatch of his father's cottage. When my fatherfirst went to the war, he handed it over to Larry, as he could not saywhat might happen before his return. Larry was at first delighted withthe thought that some day he should have a boat of his own, and a boat, too, larger than any on the shore; but when I accompanied my father, Larry insisted on going with me. 

"'It will be time enough to buy a boat, when the war is over, ' he said. 

"And as I was very glad to have him with me, and my father did notobject, Larry had his way, and he has been with me ever since. He isenrolled in the troop now, and, when he thinks there is any chance offighting, he takes his place in the ranks, but at other times he acts asmy servant. "

"Tell him I have not forgotten him, " Colonel L'Estrange said. "While youhave been doing so much, I have had a quiet time of it. I could have gota regiment at once, had I cared for it, but I disliked the thought offighting over here. It was too much like civil war. Six months ago, whenthings were going badly with us on the Continent, I asked to be employed, and was given a regiment they were just raising. I had got them into fairorder, and was expecting to be ordered to embark for the Low Country atany moment, when the news came of Ginckle's heavy losses at Athlone andAughrim, and the orders came for us to proceed to Bristol, and take shipthere for Ireland. I half thought of throwing up my commission, for thenews of the scandalous conduct of the foreign soldiers had stirred everyEnglish heart with disgust and indignation, but I thought that thestruggle was nearly over. William was anxious for peace at any price, andwould grant almost any terms to secure it; and, on the other hand, weknew that Louis was, at last, going to make a great effort. So that itwas certain that either the Irish would make peace on fair terms beforewinter, or the French would land, and there would be an end of anyprospect of conquering Ireland, until matters were settled on theContinent, and William could devote his whole strength to this business. "

"And which alternative do you think the most likely?" Walter asked. 

"The latter, " Colonel L'Estrange said, gravely. "Frankly, Walter, thesituation looks bad. There is, so far as I can see, no chance whatever ofour taking Limerick, and in a fortnight ten thousand French troops willbe landed. 

"Of course it is probable that, at the last moment, the Irish mayconclude that they prefer to be under England rather than France, forthat is what it comes to. I hope they will have the sense to chooseEngland, and if what we hear be true, they can judge from the insolentarrogance of the French officers, when they are but a fraction of yourforce, what they would be when they regarded themselves as your masters. 

"William is ready to grant religious equality, and the security ofpersons and estates. I think the Irish will be very unwise to refuse. Atthe same time, they have suffered such villainous treatment, at the handsof William's soldiers, that I cannot blame them if they decide to throwin their lot with France. "

"I think, " Walter said, "that, if they were but sure that all thepromises would be kept, the greater part would be in favour of makingpeace at once. Nine out of ten of us are of English descent, and haveonly been driven to take up arms by the cruel oppression which we havesuffered. Why, at present five-sixths of the soil of Ireland is in thehands of Protestants, our religion is persecuted, and for years we havebeen trampled on, and regarded as fair objects of robbery. "

"All that you say is true, Walter, and no one can regret it more than Ido. Still, I do think that you would be worse off under France than underEngland. Louis would drain the island of its men to fill his army. Heuses you only as a cat's paw in his struggle against England and Holland, and would not hesitate to turn you over to England again, did it at anytime suit him to make peace on such terms; or to offer Ireland as anexchange for some piece of territory he coveted, beyond his frontier. "

"I know my father is very much of your opinion, " Walter said, "and thathe has no confidence whatever in the King of France, and considers thatFrench interference is responsible for the want of success which hasattended us. At any rate, there is scarcely one of us who does not hatethe French, and certainly, if we had to choose between the two countries, we should choose England. "

When it became dark, a troop of cavalry mounted, and with ColonelL'Estrange and Walter in their midst, rode out of camp. They went forseveral miles, and then Colonel L'Estrange said:

"We are now well outside the limit where you will be likely to meet anyof our scouting parties. Two miles further along this road, you will cometo the village of Mulroon. It has, like all the others, suffered heavily, but there are two or three houses still standing, and when I rodethrough, it a few days since, I saw an old man standing at the door ofone of them, so you will be likely to get information as to the best roadto the town, and perhaps a guide. "

"Thank you very heartily, Colonel L'Estrange. I know the village, for Irode through it only the day before I was captured, and if I can get noguide, I can make my own way round as soon as it is daylight. "

"You had better go on tonight, if you can, Walter. Some party of rascallyplunderers might arrive here, or Ginckle may, for aught I know, have sentout parties of dragoons. At any rate, I would not stop here, but makeyour way on among the hills, even if you can only get a mile away, andhave to sleep by the side of your horse. No one can say he is safe undera roof within twenty miles of Ginckle's army. "

There was a hearty leave taking between Colonel L'Estrange and Walter, and the latter then rode straight forward, while the troop faced about, and made their way back to camp. 

On arriving at the village, Walter, as soon as he succeeded in convincingthe inhabitants of a cottage, in which he saw a light, that he was anIrish officer, found no difficulty in obtaining a guide, a boy offourteen volunteering at once to conduct him to the ford, ten miles aboveLimerick. It was nearly twenty miles, by the byroads by which theytravelled, and the morning was just breaking as they arrived there. 

Colonel L'Estrange had insisted on providing Walter with funds, and hewas therefore able to reward his guide, who went his way, rejoicing, while Walter crossed the river and rode for the cavalry camp, where hewas received with delight by his father and friends, who had believed himto have been killed in the skirmish, for such was the report of thetroopers who had managed to make their escape. 

"I must not let you go on any more detached commands, Walter, " his fathersaid. "I do not say that you have been imprudent, or to blame; but thisis the second time that you have been surprised by the enemy, and, as itis out of the question to expect that you can always have the good luckto get out of their hands when you are captured, as you have on the lasttwo occasions, I shall keep you by me in future; for seriously, my boy, your absence has caused me terrible anxiety. "

When Walter's account of the barbarous sentence passed upon the peasants, whose only crime was that they had defended their property againstmarauders acting in defiance of the general's order, was known in camp, the most intense indignation prevailed, and this was heightened by thefact that a cavalry officer, taken in open fight, should have beensentenced to a similar fate. So great, indeed, was the fury of bothofficers and men, that had they been in any condition to take the field, nothing could have restrained them from mounting and riding, at once, tostrike a blow in revenge for the murder and mutilation of the peasants. 

Chapter 16: Peace. 

Ginckle's expedition across the Shannon, and his surprise of the Irishcavalry camp, successful as it had been, altered the position in no way. Several days passed, and then, after a council of war, it was determinedto recross the bridge of boats, which remained undisturbed, to the Clareside, and try to force a way across Thomond Bridge. On the 22nd ofSeptember, all the cavalry of the army, ten regiments of infantry, andfourteen pieces of cannon made the passage without molestation, andmarched towards the bridge, which was defended upon the Clare side by twostrong towers. As the British advanced guard of infantry approached thebridge, it was charged by a body of Irish horse, broken, and driven back. 

A strong body of cavalry rode up to support the infantry; the Irish horsewere reinforced, and a hot fight continued until, at about four o'clockin the afternoon, the whole force of British infantry came up, and theIrish retired upon the infantry posted in the works which covered thebridge. Near the gate were high grounds cut up by gravel pits. The Irishinfantry were posted here, as well as in the forts; and the English, asthey advanced, were assailed with a very heavy fire from these positions, and also from the guns on the town walls. 

In spite of the heavy loss they were suffering, the English pressed onwith the greatest gallantry. Success was now almost a necessity, for, ifdefeated, but few of them would ever have been able to recross the river. Foot by foot they fought their way, pressed on past the outworks, andpushed back the Irish infantry, till the latter were gathered round thehead of the bridge. 

The Irish generals had thought that Ginckle's movement was but arepetition of the previous raid, and the force that had been sent over toguard the head of the bridge was altogether insufficient to withstand thedetermined attack by Ginckle's force. Reinforcements were now sent acrossthe bridge, but this only added to the confusion. Pressed back by theweight and power of the English attack, the Irish were beginning toretire across the bridge, when they met the reinforcements making theirway over. 

The bridge was of great length, but extremely narrow, and a completeblock took place. The English had pierced their way through thestruggling mass at the head of the bridge, and pressed on the rear of themass of fugitives, literally hewing their way through them, and thepressure became so great that the regiments crossing were carried back. The head of the British column was pushed forward by those behind, andcould only advance by slaying those in front of them and throwing theirbodies over the bridge; for the mass were wedged so tightly that movementhad now become impossible, while the Irish, as they retreated, formedramparts of the slain and impeded the advance of the enemy. 

While the struggle on the bridge was at its fiercest, the French officerwho commanded at the drawbridge across the arch nearest to the city, fearing that the British would press in at the rear of the Irish, andthat he might not then be able to raise the drawbridge, ordered this tobe done at once--thereby cutting off the retreat of the soldiers still onthe bridge. These jumped over the parapet into the river, and strove toreach the city wall by swimming. Some did so, but great numbers weredrowned. This incident greatly increased the standing feud between theIrish and French, the former declaring that the latter not only neverfought themselves, but were ready, at the first alarm, to sacrifice theirallies in order to secure their own safety. 

The success of Ginckle's second raid had been complete, in so far that hehad inflicted great slaughter upon the Irish infantry, and had gained amoral victory; but he was no nearer capturing the town. An attack acrossthe long narrow bridge was not even to be thought of; and he againretired across the river. 

The Irish were disheartened. Sarsfield, though a dashing cavalrycommander, appeared wholly incapable of handling large bodies of men. Ginckle had twice given him a great opportunity, but on neither occasionhad he made the slightest effort to utilize it. 

On the first occasion, surprise and uncertainty might excuse inaction onthe part of the army in Limerick, but there was no such excuse the secondtime. Their force outside the town gate was but a small one; it wascertain that the English could not push across the bridge; and, asGinckle had taken the best part of his army across, Sarsfield could haveissued out with his whole force on the Limerick side, crushed the Britishforce remaining there, and captured the camp and all its stores--in whichcase Ginckle's position would have been desperate. But not a movement wasmade to seize an opportunity which would have been patent to any militarycommander possessing genius and energy; nor, until it was too late, wasany attempt made to reinforce the detachment which, on the other side ofthe bridge, was withstanding the attack of a vastly superior force. 

Ginckle, relying upon the moral effect of the blow he had just struck, renewed his negotiations. Some of the Irish leaders had already receivedbribes. Others were genuinely anxious that the war should cease, now thatWilliam was ready to grant terms which would secure the ends for whichthey had been fighting. Others, again, were animated by hostility to theFrench, and the fear that, if the expected reinforcements arrived and theEnglish were driven out, Ireland would become a mere appanage of France. 

Sarsfield himself was, no doubt, swayed by his dislike to being againsuperseded in the command by the arrival of another French general. Hewas, too, influenced by the fear that the peace party might prevail, andthat Clifford's act of treachery might be repeated, and the enemy beadmitted into the city without any terms being arranged. 

The French officers, eager to return home, made no attempt to stem thecourse of events; and, on the evening of the day after the battle on theClare side, the drums of the besieged beat a parley, and GeneralsSarsfield and Waughup went out and had a conference with Ginckle. Acessation of arms was concluded for the night; and in the morning thetruce was extended for three days, to allow the cavalry, who were nowencamped near Ennis, to be communicated with. 

On the 25th, the principal noblemen and officers from the cavalry camparrived, prisoners were exchanged, and hostages on both sides were given, until the terms of a treaty of peace could be adjusted. On the 27th, theIrish submitted their proposals to the English general, which were--that"all past offences should be pardoned; that the Catholics of the countiesof Cork, Limerick, Kerry, Clare, Sligo, and Mayo be restored to theestates which they held previous to the war; freedom of worship to beallowed; Catholics to be capable of holding all employments, civil andmilitary; the Irish army to be kept on foot, and those who were willingto serve to be received into the king's service; Catholics to be atliberty to reside in all cities and towns, and to have all rights ofcitizens; and that an act of parliament should be passed to confirm theseconditions. "

These terms were agreed to, and were held to be applicable, not only tothe garrison of Limerick, but to the whole of Ireland. Ginckle at oncesent an express to Cork, to order the transports in that harbour to sailround to the Shannon, for the purpose of taking on board such part of theIrish army as might wish to be carried to France--this being one of thestipulations of the treaty. 

Sarsfield and most of his officers, and the priests, used their utmostefforts to persuade the soldiers to enter the French service, inpreference to the English. Their exhortations were successful. Only abouttwo thousand Irish joined the British army, four thousand laid down theirarms and returned to their homes, and a considerable number deserted ontheir march down to Cork. The rest were shipped in transports to France, where they entered the service of that country. Two days after the treatywas signed, the French fleet, with ten thousand men and a great abundanceof stores, arrived at the mouth of the Shannon. 

The Irish negotiators of the treaty have been greatly and deservedlyblamed, inasmuch as, while they stipulated that the proprietors of theneighbouring counties should retain their estates, they abandoned thosepossessing property throughout the rest of Ireland to ruin and beggary. There was no excuse for this. They knew that the French fleet had sailed, and must have arrived in a few days, and that the English cause wasbecoming so desperate that Ginckle would not have resisted any terms theyhad laid down. This cruel and wholly unnecessary desertion of theirfriends has thrown a slur upon the memory of Sarsfield and the otherleaders who conducted the negotiations. 

The officers and men who entered the service of France had bitter reasonto repent their decision. Instead of being, as they expected, kepttogether in regiments, they were for the most part broken up anddistributed throughout the French army. Louis was deeply enraged at thesurrender, just as the expedition he had made such efforts to send forthe conquest of Ireland was within a few hours' sail of its shores, andhe treated the whole of the Irish and French who returned from Ireland asmen who had acted the part of traitors. 

As soon as the terms of capitulation were arranged, Captain Davenantobtained papers of protection for all the men of his troop. He had formedthem up on parade, and had put the question, whether they wished toreturn home or to enter the service of France. 

"I myself, and your officers, intend to return home, " he said. "Ofcourse, each of you is free to do as he chooses; but it appears to me amost foolish thing to leave your country forever, and exile yourself inthe service of France, when you are free to return home. You know howlittle French promises have been kept during this war, and how littlefaith is to be placed on them in future. "

The men were unanimous in their decision to return to their homes, and, as soon as the protection papers were obtained, the troop disbanded, andall returned to their homes and occupations in and around Bray. 

It was a joyful meeting, when Captain Davenant and Walter returned to thecastle. Mrs. Davenant had always shared her husband's opinion, that thechances of ultimate success were small, and of late even his mother hadgiven up hope, and both were delighted that their anxieties were at lastover, and husband and son restored to them in safety. There was animmense deal to tell on both sides, for it was months since any letterhad passed between them. 

"We have everything to be thankful for, " Mrs. Davenant said, when thestories on both sides had been told, "and it seems to me that it is, tono slight extent, due to Walter that we have passed so well through thelast two troubled years. It was Jabez Whitefoot who first stood ourfriend, and who saved the castle from being burned, and his goodwill wasearned by Walter's friendship with his son. Then Mr. Conyers stoodbetween us and the council, who would certainly have confiscatedeverything, had it not been for him. And, although he always expressedhimself as greatly indebted to you also, he said that, so far as heunderstood from his wife, it was to Walter's foresight and arrangementthat his wife and daughter owed their rescue. 

"How was it that Walter was so forward in the matter, Fergus?"

"Walter was perhaps more particularly interested in the matter than Iwas, " Captain Davenant said, with a smile. "His thoughts were running inthat direction. "

Walter coloured up, and Mrs. Davenant, who was looking at him with somesurprise, at her husband's words, broke into a laugh. 

"You don't mean to say, Walter, that you have been falling in love, atyour age?"

"You forget, dear, " Captain Davenant said, coming to Walter's rescue, "that Walter is no longer a boy. Three years of campaigning have made aman of him, and, I venture to think, an earnest and thoughtful one. Heis, it is true, only nineteen, but he has seen as much, and gone throughas much, as men double his age. He has, upon several occasions, evincedan amount of coolness and judgment in danger which has earned him theapprobation even of General Sarsfield, a man not easily satisfied. "

"I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Walter, " Mrs. Davenant said; "but ofcourse, it is difficult for me, at first, to realize that while you havebeen away you have changed from a boy into a man. "

"I don't mind, mother dear, " Walter said, "and you can laugh at me asmuch as you like. "

"And is there anything in what your father says?" Mrs. Davenant asked, asshe passed her hand fondly over Walter's head, as he sat on a low stoolbeside her. 

"Yes, mother, " he answered manfully. "I am engaged to Claire Conyers. Ihave her mother's consent, but what Mr. Conyers will think about it, Idon't know. He must know long before this, for Mrs. Conyers said that sheshould tell him, as soon as he joined them in England. "

Mrs. Davenant leaned over, and kissed her son. 

"The Conyers are of good family, " old Mrs. Davenant said, "although theydid come over with Cromwell. I do not think that is any objection to ason of our house marrying into theirs. "

Captain Davenant laughed. 

"No objection at all, on our side, mother. Any objection is likely to beon the other side, not on the ground of family, but on that of property. Claire Conyers is one of the richest heiresses in Ireland, while Walter'sinheritance can scarcely be termed extensive. "

Two months later, Captain Davenant received a letter from Mr. Conyers, saying that he had arrived with his wife and daughter at Dublin on theprevious day, and should be glad to make his acquaintance, and that ofhis son. 

"My wife, " he said, "has informed me of certain love passages, which havetaken place between Claire and your son, and I shall be glad to talk toyou concerning them. "

Captain Davenant and Walter at once rode over to Dublin, the latter fullof delight, and yet with a considerable amount of trepidation as to theinterview between his father and Mr. Conyers. His mind was, however, speedily put at rest, for upon entering, Mr. Conyers at once took him bythe hand, and said:

"I am glad, indeed, of the opportunity of thanking you, in person, forthe inestimable service you rendered to my wife and daughter. I find, from my wife, that Claire has discovered a means of repaying you for yourservice, and as her happiness is, she tells me, dependent on my giving myconsent to the plan, I tell you at once that I do so, very heartily. Ithink you had better wait for a while, say two or three years, but weneed not settle that at present. 

"Come here, Claire. "

He placed the girl's hand in Walter's. 

"Take her, " he said, "and make her happy. "

The next day, Mr. Conyers, with his wife and daughter, accompaniedCaptain Davenant and Walter back to Davenant Castle, where they stayedfor some days. 

The Whitefoots did not long remain neighbours of the Davenants. OldZephaniah had passed away, ere the peace was signed, and, soon afterCaptain Davenant returned, Jabez called at the castle. 

"We are going away, " he said. "John has made up his mind to become atrader, in London, and Hannah and I would be lonely without him, and, moreover, we are both weary of our life here, and have far more thanenough money laid by for our needs, and for giving John the means ofentering some well-established firm, when the time shall come. As to thelands here, they are ours now; but the next turn of the wheel might givethem back to you. Besides, we do not wish to be troubled with their care. I therefore intend to revert to the offer which you made me, when theParliament restored the land to you. I have received a good offer for ourhouse and farm, and this I have accepted. The rest of the estates I handback to you, from whom they were taken by the sword. My wife wishes this, as well as myself. John is eager that it should be so. He will be gladthat his friend should be heir to the estates of his ancestors. "

"But we could not accept such a generous offer, " Captain Davenantexclaimed. "It is out of all reason. "

"That I know not, friend Davenant; but I know that I, and my wife andJohn, have so made up our minds, and we are of a race not given tochange. The land would but be an incumbrance and a trouble to us. Johnwould far rather make his path in life, as he chooses it, than live uponthe rents of ill-gotten lands. You will receive your own again, and allparties will be satisfied. "

Nothing could alter the resolution Jabez and his wife and son had taken, and so the Davenant estates came back to their former possessors. 

Three years after the conclusion of peace, Walter became Claire Conyers'husband, and in time succeeded to the wide estates of Mr. Conyers, aswell as those of the Davenants. Godfrey Davenant, on attaining the age ofeighteen, obtained, through Colonel L'Estrange's interest, a commissionin the English army, fought under Marlborough in the fierce campaign inFlanders, and fell at the battle of Oudenarde. Happily, during thelifetime of Walter and Claire Davenant, there was never any renewal oftrouble in Ireland, and they lived to see their children andgrandchildren grow up around them, in peace and happiness. 

John Whitefoot became, in time, one of the leading merchants of the cityof London, and spent the greater of the fortune he gained in trade inworks of charity and kindness. The friendship between him and WalterDavenant remained unchanged to the end of their lives. They occasionallypaid each other visits, and, when a son of John Whitefoot married adaughter of Walter Davenant, they felt that this was a fittingtermination of the old feud between the families.