It was late in the afternoon before John woke. He started up, as his eyes
fell 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 your
expedition, and I honour you very much, for the courage you have shown in
thus risking your life to get food for those starving children. I quite
approve 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 against
friends," Captain Davenant said. "Who would have thought, three months
ago, that you and Walter would be arrayed on opposite sides? It is true
you are neither of you combatants, but I have no doubt you would gladly
have joined in some of the sallies, just as Walter is eager to be riding
in my troop. If we must fight, I wish, at any rate, that it could be so
managed that all the suffering should fall upon the men who are willing
to take up the sword, and not upon the women and children. My heart
bleeds as I ride across the country. At one time, one comes upon a ruined
village, burned by the midnight ruffians who call themselves rapparees,
and who are a disgrace to our cause. At another, upon a place sacked and
ruined by one of the bands of horsemen from Enniskillen, who are as cruel
and merciless as the rapparees. Let the armies fight out their quarrels,
I say, but let peaceful people dwell in quiet and safety. But wholesale
atrocities 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 will
do you good. Each night, when my son brings down the supplies for you, he
will bring a substantial meal of cold meat and bread, and you must give
me 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 be
no 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 a
mouthful or two for the people who are starving at home. Still, of
course, if you insist upon it, I will promise."
"I do insist upon it, John. The lives of these children of yours depend
on your life, and even one good meal, every four days, will help you to
keep enough strength together to carry out the kind work you have
undertaken."
Larry now brought in the dinner. He had been told by Walter of John's
arrival, but he otherwise would have failed to recognize, in him, the boy
who 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't
have known you at all, at all, and such a foine colour as ye used to
have."
"I don't think starving would suit you, Larry," Captain Davenant said
with 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 next
week, John," Captain Davenant said, presently. "The tide won't suit, so
you must come up here, as you have done today. You will always find a
hearty welcome, and Walter shall go down and meet you early in the
morning, near the mouth of the river, so you can come up with him; and
then, if you fall in with any of the other parties, no questions will be
asked. I think everyone in camp knows him now.
"I wonder what your grandfather would say, if he saw you sitting here at
dinner with Walter and me?"
John laughed.
"I am afraid he would disown me, then and there, without listening to
explanations."
"I have no doubt it's a sore grievance to him that he is not in Derry, at
present," Captain Davenant said.
"I am sure it is," John replied; "but the fasting would be a great trial
to him. My grandfather is a capital trencherman. Still, I am sure he
would have borne his part."
"That he would," Captain Davenant agreed. "He and the men of his class
are thorough, fanatics as I consider them. Hard and pitiless as they
proved themselves, to those against whom they fought, one cannot but
admire them, for they were heart and soul in their cause. There was no
flinching, 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 own
rough pony. Walter mounted the former, and John the latter. The two kegs
were 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 you
and John."
Captain Davenant had furnished Walter with a password, and now walked
beside the two boys till they were well beyond the camp, and then
returned to his tent. The lads made their way, without meeting with
anyone, down to the mouth of the river. The kegs were then taken off the
horse and placed in the water--they floated just above the surface.
"That is exactly right," John said. "They will not show any more than
will 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 the
kegs, so that there will be no fear of my face showing; and if a sentry
should happen to catch sight of it, he will suppose that it is merely a
bush 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 safely
through, if He thinks fit."
The journey was achieved without detection, the only difficulty being the
sinking of the kegs under the boom; this, however, was successfully
accomplished, and by midnight, the kegs were safely hidden in some bushes
at 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 no
loud rejoicings; they had no longer strength or spirit to shout and
laugh; but the joy in the thin worn faces was more eloquent than any
words could have been.
"We have missed you so, John. We have wanted you so much. Lucy and Kate
and Deby were so bad yesterday, and they did cry so for you. We were all
so hungry. We don't mind so much, when you are here to talk to us and
tell 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 will
each 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 was
pitiful from the intensity of joy it expressed, "but there will be some
for tonight, and a little curds and whey and bread for you tomorrow and
next day, and I hope always, as long as this lasts. Now go, dears, into
your 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 he
entered the house. "The children were in a sad state without you,
yesterday. I suppose you can tell me, now, what you have been doing. You
told me you would be away two nights, and begged me not to ask any
questions; but, although I know you to be discreet and prudent, I have
been worrying."
"I will tell you now," John said, and he recounted the details of the
expedition 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 your
visit there be discovered, you will assuredly be accused of treachery."
"They may accuse me of what they like," John said quietly. "I have done
it, and I am going to do it again, every fourth night, and there is the
milk and bread at the foot of the wall, ready for you to haul up as soon
as it gets dark."
"It ought to be fairly divided," the tanner said.
"It will be fairly divided, between our children," John said; "but nobody
else will get a drop or a crumb. I have risked my life to get it for
them. If other people want to get it, let them do the same. Besides, as I
told you, Captain Davenant and his son both procured it for me for the
sake of the children, and them only, and I should be breaking faith with
them if any others touched it, save those for whom it was given me. It is
little enough among eighteen children for four days--a pound of bread and
a little over a pint of milk, each. They must each have a quarter of a
pint, 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 and
whey, and a fourth share of their bread. It is little enough; but I trust
that it may keep life in them."
"Well, John, I will do as you say," the tanner said, after a pause. "It
goes somewhat against my conscience; but, as you say, it will make but a
meagre portion for each of them, and would be nothing were it fairly
divided; besides, you have brought it with the risk of your life, and I
know 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 the
satisfaction 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 then
lay down among the bushes, and enjoyed the satisfaction of thinking of
the joy of the little ones, when the milk and bread were served out to
them. 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 how
you had swum so far, and gone into danger to get it for us, and we're
going 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 so
well last night--even little Lucy didn't waken and cry once--and Ruth
Hardy said we ought to call you the Raven; but we don't like that name
for you."
"The Raven, Ruth!" John said, mystified. "Why did you want to call me the
Raven?"
"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it, dear John; but you know that
chapter that Master Williams read us, the other day, about the ravens
that fed somebody in a cave, and we have been wishing the ravens would
feed us; and so you see, when you sent us the milk last night, I thought
you 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 you
like."
"No, no, John. You are John, and that's much better than the Raven. They
brought the man food, but they didn't nurse him and tell him stories, as
you do."
"Now, run inside the castle," John said, "and I will go in and get your
breakfasts."
John soon returned, with a great bowl of curds and whey, a platter piled
up 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 was
too keen, and their enjoyment too intense, to admit of speech. When each
had 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 share
for you; besides, when I went out the day before yesterday, I had as much
as 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 came
here, when you had as much as you could eat, you used to grumble if it
wasn't quite what you fancied."
"I shall never grumble again," the boy said positively. "I shall be
quite, 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 a
story. Which shall it be?"
As the children sat round him, John was delighted to see that even the
two scanty meals they had had, had done wonders for them. The listless,
hopeless look of the last few days had disappeared, and occasionally
something like a hearty laugh broke out among them, and an hour later the
tanner 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 anger
and 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 the
inhabitants. Outside were a multitude of women, children, and old men.
These General Rosen, with a refinement of cruelty, had swept in from the
country round and driven under the walls, where they were left to starve,
unless the garrison would take them in, and divide their scanty supply of
food with them.
"It is monstrous," John cried, when he understood the meaning of the
sight. "What are we to do?"
"We can do nothing," the tanner replied. "The council have met, and have
determined to keep the gates closed. We are dying for the cause. They
must do so too; and they will not die in vain, for all Europe will cry
out when they hear of this dastardly act of cruelty."
The people outside were animated by a spirit as stern as that of the
besieged, and the women cried out, to those on the walls, to keep the
gates shut and to resist to the last, and not to heed them.
The ministers went out through the gates, and held services among the
crowd, and the people on the walls joined in the hymns that were sung
below. So, for three days and nights, the people within and without
fasted and prayed. On the third day, a messenger arrived from King James
at Dublin, ordering General Rosen at once to let the people depart.
The indignation, among the Irish gentlemen in the camp, at Rosen's brutal
order had been unbounded, and messenger after messenger had been sent to
Dublin, where the news excited a burst of indignation, and James at once
countermanded the order of the general. The gates were opened now, and
the people flocked out and exchanged greetings with their friends. A few
able-bodied men in the crowd entered the town, to share in its defence,
while a considerable number of the women and children from within mingled
with them, and moved away through the lines of the besiegers.
John had, the day before, gone out when the gates were opened for the
preachers, and at night had again safely made the passage to the mouth of
the river and back. He found the lantern burning among the bushes, and
two kegs placed beside it, with a bountiful meal of bread and meat for
himself.
So the days went on, each day lessening the number of the inhabitants of
the town. Fever and famine were making terrible ravages, and the
survivors moved about the streets like living skeletons, so feeble and
weak, now, that they could scarce bear the weight of their arms.
On the 30th of July, three ships were seen approaching the mouth of the
river. They were part of Kirk's squadron, which had all this time been
lying idle, almost within sight of the town. The news of his conduct had
excited such anger and indignation in England that, at last, in obedience
to peremptory orders from London, he prepared to make the attempt;
although, by sending only two store ships and one frigate, it would
almost seem as if he had determined that it should be a failure.
The besiegers as well as the besieged saw the three ships advancing, and
the former moved down to the shore, to repel the attempt. The batteries
on either side of the boom were manned, and from them, and from the
infantry gathered on the banks, a heavy fire was opened as the ships
approached.
So innocuous was the fire of the artillery, that it has been supposed
that Kirk had previously bribed the officers commanding the forts. At any
rate, the ships suffered no material damage, and, returning the fire,
advanced against the boom. The leading store ship dashed against it and
broke it, but the ship swerved from her course with the shock, and struck
the ground. A shout of dismay burst from those on the walls, and one of
exultation from the besiegers, who rushed down to board the vessel.
Her captain, however, pointed all his guns forward, and discharged them
all at the same moment, and the recoil shook the vessel from her hold on
the 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 half
their number. The fighting men had, either by disease, famine, or in the
field, lost some five thousand, while of the non-combatants seven
thousand had died. The joy and exultation in the city, as the two store
ships ranged up under its walls, were unbounded. Provisions were speedily
conveyed on shore, and abundance took the place of famine.
Five days later, General Rosen raised the siege and marched away with his
army, which had, in the various operations of the siege, and from the
effect of disease, lost upwards of three thousand men.
"This has been a bad beginning, Walter," Captain Davenant said, as they
rode away from the grounds on which they had been so long encamped. "If
the whole force of Ireland does not suffice to take a single town, the
prospect of our waging war successfully against England is not hopeful."
"It seems to me that it would have been much better to have left Derry
alone, father," Walter said.
"It would have been better, as it has turned out, Walter; but had the
king taken the place, as he expected, without difficulty, he would have
crossed with a portion of the army to Scotland, where a considerable part
of the population would at once have joined him. The defence of Derry has
entirely thwarted that plan, and I fear now that it will never be carried
out.
"However, it has had the advantage of making soldiers out of an army of
peasants. When we came here, officers and men were alike ignorant of
everything relating to war. Now we have, at any rate, learned a certain
amount of drill and discipline, and I think we shall give a much better
account of ourselves, in the open field, than we have done in front of a
strong town which we had no means whatever of storming. Still, it has
been a frightful waste of life on both sides, and with no result, beyond
horribly embittering the feeling of hatred, which unfortunately prevailed
before, between the Catholic and Protestant populations."
The mortification and disgust, caused by the failure of Londonderry, was
increased by a severe defeat of a force under General Justin McCarthy,
Lord Mountcashel, at Newtown Butler, on the very day that Derry was
relieved. General McCarthy had been detached, with a corps of six
thousand men, against the Enniskilleners. He came up with them near
Newtown Butler. Although but two thousand strong, the Enniskilleners, who
were commanded by Colonel Wolseley, an English officer, at once attacked
the Irish, only a portion of whom had come upon the ground.
McCarthy, who was a brave and experienced officer, sent orders to the
cavalry to face to the right, and march to the support of the wing that
was attacked. The officer gave the order "right--about face," and the
cavalry turned and trotted towards the rear. The infantry, believing that
they were deserted by the horse, at once lost heart and fell into
confusion.
McCarthy, while endeavouring to remedy the disorder, was wounded and
taken prisoner, and the flight became general. The Enniskilleners pursued
with savage fury, and during the evening, the whole of the night, and the
greater part of the next day, hunted the fugitives down in the bogs and
woods, and slew them in cold blood. Five hundred of the Irish threw
themselves into Lough Erne, rather than face death at the hands of their
savage enemies, and only one of the number saved himself by swimming.
After leaving Derry, the army returned to Dublin, where the parliament
which James had summoned was then sitting. Most of the soldiers were
quartered on the citizens; but, as the pressure was very great, Captain
Davenant easily obtained leave for his troop to go out to Bray, where
they were within a very short distance of his own house.
The day after his return home, Walter went over to give Jabez Whitefoot
and his wife news of John, from whom they had heard nothing, since a
fortnight before the siege had begun.
"Your son is alive and well," were his first words. "He has been all
through the siege of Derry, and has behaved like a hero."
"The Lord be praised!" Jabez said, while his wife burst into tears of
relief, for she had gone through terrible anxiety during the long weeks
that Derry had been suffering from starvation.
"But how do you know, Master Walter?" Jabez asked. "Seeing that you were
on the side of the besiegers, how could you tell what was passing on the
inside of the walls? How do you know John is alive?"
"Because I saw him first, a month before the end of the siege, and
because he came regularly afterwards, to fetch away some provisions which
I had placed for him."
And Walter then gave a full account of John's visit to the camp, in
search 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 for
others. I am more pleased, a hundred times, that he should have so risked
his life to obtain food for the little ones, than if he had taken part in
the fighting and proved himself a very champion of Derry."
Parliament had met on the 7th of May. The session had been opened by a
speech from the throne, in which the king commended the loyalty of his
Irish subjects, declared his intention to make no difference between
Catholics and Protestants, and that loyalty and good conduct should be
the only passport to his favour. He stated his earnest wish that good and
wholesome laws should be enacted, for the encouragement of trade and of
the manufactures of the country, and for the relief of such as had
suffered injustice by the Act of Settlement; that is, the act by which
the lands of the Catholics had been handed over, wholesale, to Cromwell's
soldiers and other Protestants.
Bills were speedily passed, abolishing the jurisdiction of English courts
of law and of the English parliament in Ireland, and other bills were
passed for the regulation of commerce and the promotion of shipbuilding.
The bill for the repeal of the Act of Settlement was brought up on the
22d of May. It was opposed only by the Protestant bishops and peers, and
became law on the 11th of June. Acts of attainder were speedily passed
against some two thousand Protestant landed proprietors, all of whom had
obtained their lands by the settlement of Cromwell.
A land tax was voted to the king, of twenty thousand pounds a month, and
he proceeded to raise other levies by his private authority. The result
was that the resources of Ireland were speedily exhausted, money almost
disappeared, and James, being at his wits' end for funds, issued copper
money stamped with the value of gold and silver; and a law was passed
making this base money legal tender, promising that, at the end of the
war, 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 in
the value of the money, but James stopped this, by issuing a proclamation
fixing the prices at which all articles were to be sold; and having done
this, 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 own
account. It need hardly be said that conduct of this kind speedily
excited great dissatisfaction, even among those who were most loyal in
his cause.
Captain Davenant was shocked at the state of things he found prevailing
in Dublin.
"I regret bitterly," he said, when alone with his wife and mother, "that
I have taken up the sword. Success appears to me to be hopeless. The
folly of the Stuarts is incredible. They would ruin the best cause in the
world. With a spark of wisdom and firmness, James might have united all
Ireland in his cause, instead of which he has absolutely forced the
Protestants 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 to
Dublin, depressed and disheartened by all he heard there.
"I am astonished, Fergus," his mother said sharply, "to hear you speak in
that way. Who would have thought that it was a Davenant who was speaking!
Doubtless there have been mistakes, as was only natural, but everything
will 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 the
broad lands of the Davenants. Thank God I have lived to see the
restoration of my dear husband's lands, and the discomfiture of those
Cromwellian knaves, who have so long possessed them. It was a grand day
when the act was passed, repealing all Cromwell's grants handing over the
best part of Ireland to his soldiers; and I saw in the Gazette, among the
two thousand grants specially mentioned as cancelled, was that of the
Davenant estate to Zephaniah Whitefoot. I am told that the old man and
his son have taken no notice of the act, but go about their work as if
they were still the owners of the land; but of course, now that you are
back, 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 true
that an act of the Irish parliament has cancelled the iniquitous work of
Cromwell, and restored the land to its rightful possessors. I do not say
that this is not just, but I am quite sure that it is not politic. These
men have been planted on the soil for two generations. They have built
houses and tilled the fields, and made homes for themselves. It was
essentially a case for arrangement, and not for setting right the first
act of confiscation by another as sweeping. It has rendered the
Protestants desperate. It has enlisted the sympathy of the Protestants of
England in their behalf, and has done much to popularize the war there.
It would have been vastly wiser, had a commission been ordered to examine
into the circumstances of each case.
"In the great proportion of cases, the estates which the Cromwellites
took possession of were vastly larger than they were able to till
themselves; and, as in the case of Zephaniah Whitefoot, they let out the
greater portion to tenants. All these lands I would have restored to
their former owners, leaving to the Cromwellites the land they till
themselves, and the houses they have built upon it.
"As to turning the Whitefoots out, I shall certainly take no step that
way, at present. It will be time enough to do so, when King James is
firmly established on the throne. As things go at present, I have but
very faint hopes that will ever be. He has utterly failed to conquer the
Protestants of the north of Ireland, and we have all the strength of
England to cope with, yet. It will be well, mother, if, at the end of
this strife, we can keep Davenant Castle over our heads, with the few
acres that still remain to us."
Two days afterwards, Captain Davenant mounted his horse and rode over to
the Whitefoots. Zephaniah and Jabez came to the door.
"I suppose you have come over to turn us out, Fergus Davenant," the old
man said; "but I warn you, that it will not be for long. The triumph of
the ungodly is short, and the Lord will care for his own people."
"You are mistaken," Captain Davenant said quietly. "I have come over for
no 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, at
present, I do not propose to take advantage of that law. I shall do
nothing, 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 is
upheld, I wish to tell you that I shall never disturb you in the land
which you, yourselves, occupy. Your tenants, on the other hand, will be
my tenants; but in the house which you have built, and in the fields
which you have tilled, you will remain masters.
"I have thought the matter over, and this appears to me to be a just
settlement, and one which I give you my word that I will hold to, should
King James triumph in the end. I think that the law turning out the
Protestant 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, but
Jabez 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 sudden
assumption of command on the part of his son, to interrupt him.
"Captain Davenant," he said, "I thank you most sincerely, on the part of
myself, my wife and son, and, I may say, of my father, too, although at
present he may not realize the kindness of your offer. I do not think it
likely that, if James Stuart prevails, and Ireland is rent from England,
we shall avail ourselves of your offer, for we have more than sufficient
of this world's goods to remove to England, and there settle ourselves
and our son, for assuredly Ireland would be no place where a Protestant
could dwell in peace and quietness. Nevertheless, I thank you heartily,
and shall ever gratefully bear in mind the promise you have made, and the
fact that, although you have the power to turn us from our home, you have
stayed 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 felt
that I and mine wronged you, by being the possessors of your father's
lands."
"They were the spoil of battle," Zephaniah broke in fiercely.
"Yes, they were the spoil of battle," his son repeated; "but there are
limits, even to the rights of conquerors. I have read history, and I know
that 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 of
wholesale spoliation was ever perpetrated; and considering, as I do, that
the act was an iniquitous one, although we have benefited by it, I
consider the offer which Captain Davenant has made to us to be a noble
one.
"I have to thank you, sir, also, for your kindness to my son--a kindness
which doubtless saved his life, as well as that of many others in
Londonderry; and believe me that, whatever comes of this horrible war, I
and mine will never forget the kindnesses we have received at your
hands."
"The affair was my son's, rather than mine," Captain Davenant said; "but
I was glad to be able to assist him in aiding your brave boy. He is a
noble fellow, and you have every reason to be proud of him."
"I must add my thanks to those of my husband," Hannah said, coming out
from the house, having listened to the conversation through an open
window. "We had suffered so, until your son brought us news of John, two
days since. It is strange, indeed, that your son should have been the
means of saving one of a household whom he cannot but have learnt to
regard as the usurpers of his father's rights. It was but last night I
was 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 of
it. They are both manly fellows, and there is no reason why the feuds of
the 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 not
thought 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 to
you; but it is time that I took my stand. It seems to me that the
principles upon which the soldiers of Cromwell fought, were the
principles which animated the Israelites of old. Exodus, Judges, and
Kings were the groundwork of their religion, not the Gospels. It has
gradually been borne upon me that such is not the religion of the New
Testament, and, while I seek in no way to dispute your right to think as
you choose, I say the time has come when I and my wife will act upon our
principles."
"It is written, Honour thy father and thy mother," Zephaniah said
sternly.
"Ay, father, I have honoured you, and I shall honour you to the end; but
a man has no right to give up his conscience to his father; for it is
written, also, that a man shall leave father and mother, and wife and
home to follow the Lord. I have heard you, father, and the elders of our
church, quote abundant texts from Scripture, but never one, that I can
recall, from the New Testament. Hitherto, I have been as an Israelite of
Joshua's time. Henceforward, I hope to be a Christian. I grieve to anger
you, father, and for years I have held my peace rather than do so; but
the time has come when the spirit within me will no longer permit me to
hold 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, to
live a life as hard as that of the poorest tenant on our lands; but, as
touching 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 and
deacons 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 they
knew that the time could not be very far off when Jabez would take the
old 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," the
minister said, "and, indeed, the offer, which thou sayest the man
Davenant made, was a generous one. It would be well, indeed, for our
brethren throughout Ireland, did all the original owners of their lands
so treat them. Thousands who, but a few months since, were prosperous
men, are now without a shelter wherein to lay their heads. The storm is
sweeping over us, the elect are everywhere smitten, and, should James
Stuart conquer, not a Protestant in Ireland but must leave its shores.
Therefore, although I would counsel no giving up of principle, no
abandonment of faith, yet I would say that this is no time for the
enforcement 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 were
best to be patient with him."
At home, there were few words spoken after Zephaniah had gone out. Hannah
had 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 have
never been proud before, that you have boldly spoken out for liberty of
conscience. I feel like one who has for many years been a slave, but who
is, at last, free."
Jabez kissed her, but was silent. To him, it had been a great trial to
rebel. He knew that he was right, and would have done it again, if
necessary; but it was a terrible thing to him to have openly withstood
the father to whom he had, from childhood, rendered almost implicit
obedience.
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. Zephaniah
was still master in all matters of daily work; but in other respects,
Jabez had completely emancipated himself.