Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick Page 4

  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 u
pthe 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 ar
eonly 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."