Some hours passed, and he was on the point of dropping off to sleep
again, when he heard a whistle repeated once or twice, followed by the
sharp bark of a dog. It was but a short distance away, and, leaping to
his feet, he saw a peasant standing at a distance of two or three hundred
yards.
Walter hurried towards him at a speed of which, a few minutes before, he
would have thought himself incapable. The man continued whistling, at
short intervals, and did not notice Walter till he was within twenty
yards distant; then he turned sharply round.
"Who are you?" he asked, clubbing a heavy stick which he held in his
hand, and standing on the defensive.
The dress and appearance of the man assured Walter that he was a
Catholic, and therefore a friend, and he replied at once:
"I belong to one of the Irish troops of horse. The Enniskilleners
surprised a party of us, yesterday, and wounded me, as you see.
Fortunately, I escaped in the night, or they would have finished me this
morning. I have been out all night in the rain, and am weak from loss of
blood and hunger. Can you give me shelter?"
"That I can," the man said, "and gladly. Those villains have been killing
and 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 a
mile 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 strength
go, 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 would
have come along today. My dog went off after a rabbit, and I was
whistling 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. Seeing
that Walter was too exhausted to talk, he asked no questions, and said
nothing 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 sharp
dip 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, it
would not be noticed, the roof being covered with sods, and closely
matching 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 the
greeting.
"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 from
them alive--which is more than most can say. He has had a bad wound, has
been wet through for hours, and is half starving. Look sharp, lads, and
get something hot, as soon as possible.
"Now, sir, if you will take off those wet things of yours, and wrap
yourself in that rug, you will find yourself the better for it. When a
man is in health, a few hours wet will not do him any harm; but when he
is weak from loss of blood, as you are, the cold seems to get into his
bones."
Fresh turfs were at once put on the smouldering fire, which one of the
men, leaning down before it, proceeded to blow lustily; and, although
much of the smoke made its way out through a hole in the roof, enough
lingered to render it difficult for Walter to breathe, while his eyes
watered with the sharp fumes. A kettle had been placed on the fire, and
in a very short time, a jar was produced from the corner of the hut, and
a 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 the
cold damp air outside, to the warm atmosphere of the hut, aided the
effects of the spirits; he was first conscious of a warm glow all over
him, 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 three
hours' sleep will make a man of you, and by that time dinner will be
ready, and your clothes dry."
Walter fell almost instantaneously off to sleep, and it was late in the
afternoon 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's
dinner 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 myself
again."
"That's right, yer honour. When you've had your food, I will make a shift
to dress that wound at the back of yer head. Be jabbers, it's a hard
knock you have had, and a mighty lot of blood you must have lost! Yer
clothes 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, a
smell very pleasant to Walter's nostrils arose. Four flat pieces of wood
served the purpose of plates, and, with a large spoon of the same
material, the man who had brought Walter to the hut, and who appeared to
be the leader of the party, ladled out portions of the contents. These
consisted of rabbit and pieces of beef, boiled up with potatoes and
onions. A large jug filled with water, and a bottle of spirits were
placed in the centre, with the horn which Walter had before used beside
it.
"We are short of crockery," the man said with a laugh. "Here are some
knives, but as for forks, we just have to do without them."
Walter enjoyed his meal immensely. After it was finished, the wooden
platters were removed, and the jug replenished.
"Now, your honour, will you tell us how you got away from the Protestant
rebels, and how was it they didn't make short work of you, when they
caught you? It's a puzzle to us entirely, for the Enniskilleners spare
neither man, woman, nor child."
Walter related the whole circumstances of his capture, imprisonment, and
escape.
"You fooled them nicely," the man said, admiringly. "Sure your honour's
the 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 a
wild place to live in."
"It's just that," the man said. "We belonged to Kilbally. The
Enniskilleners came that way, and burned it to the ground. They murdered
my wife and many another one. I was away cutting peat with my wife's
brother here. When we came back, everything was gone. A few had escaped
to the bogs, where they could not be followed; the rest was, every
mother's son of them, killed by those murdering villains. Your honour may
guess what we felt, when we got back. Thank God I had no children! We
buried the wife in the garden behind the house, and then started away and
joined 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 built
us this hut. It's a wonder to us how you got here; for there are bogs
stretching away in all directions, and how you made your way through them
bates us entirely."
"Yours is a sad story, but unfortunately a common one. And how have you
managed 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 for
meat, there are cattle for the taking, wandering all over the country;
some have lately strayed away; but among the hills there are herds which
have run wild since the days when Cromwell made the country a desert. As
for spirits, I brew them myself. Barley as well as potatoes may be had
for 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 a
one of them running wild among the ruins. As far as eating and drinking
goes, we never did better; and if I could forget the old cottage, and the
sight 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 longing
for vengeance."
"Why don't you join the army?" Walter asked. "There's plenty of room for
good 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 with
the Enniskilleners, and you could always come back here when the war is
over."
"What do you say, boys?" the man asked his companions. "I am just
wearying for a fight, and I could die contented, if I could but send a
few of those murdering villains to their place, before I go."
The other two men at once agreed. They talked well into the night, and
Walter heard many tales of the savage butchery of unoffending peasants,
by the men who professed to be fighting for religious liberty, which
shocked and sickened him.
It was arranged that they should start on the following morning. The men
said that they could guide him across country to Dundalk without
difficulty, and assured him that he would be little likely to meet with
the enemy, for that the whole country had been so wasted, by fire and
sword, as to offer but little temptation even to the most insatiable of
plunderers.
Accordingly, the next morning they set out, and arrived late that evening
at the camp. Walter found that his father and his followers were absent.
They had returned, much surprised at not having been rejoined by Walter's
party, but on their arrival they had found there the survivors of his
command, who had ridden straight for Dundalk.
After a few hours' stay, to rest the horses, Captain Davenant, with his
own men and two of the troops of cavalry, had ridden out in search of the
Enniskilleners. Larry, who had been almost wild with grief when the news
of the surprise, and, as he believed, the death of Walter, had been
brought in, had accompanied the cavalry.
It was late on the following afternoon before they rode into camp. Larry
was the first to come in, having received permission from Captain
Davenant to gallop on ahead. They had met the enemy, and had inflicted a
decisive defeat upon them, but the greater part had escaped, by taking to
the hills on their wiry little horses, which were able to traverse bogs
and quagmires impassable to the heavy troopers.
Captain Davenant had closely questioned two or three wounded men who fell
into his hands. These all declared that a young officer had been
captured, in the previous fight, that he had been severely wounded, and
carried away senseless, but that he had, in some extraordinary manner,
managed to escape that night. This story had greatly raised Captain
Davenant's hopes that Walter might yet be alive, a hope which he had not
before allowed himself, for a moment, to indulge in; and as he neared
Dundalk, he had readily granted leave for the impatient Larry to gallop
on ahead, and discover if any news had been received of Walter.
Larry's delight, at seeing his young master standing at the door of the
tent, was extreme. He gave a wild whoop, threw his cap high up into the
air, and then, without a word of greeting, turned his horse's head and
galloped away again, at the top of his speed, to carry the good news to
Captain Davenant. Half an hour later, the column rode into camp, and
Walter 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 return
to the hills, and to bring back that number of men from the peasants
hiding 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 damped
Walter's enthusiasm. He had been engaged in two long and tedious
blockades, and, with the exception of some skirmishes round Derry, had
seen nothing whatever of fighting. Neither operation had been attended by
any decisive result. Both had inflicted extreme misery and suffering upon
the enemy, but in neither was the success aimed at attained. At the same
time, the novelty of the life, the companionship of his father and the
other officers of the regiment, and, not least, the good humour and fun
of his attendant, Larry, had made the time pass far more cheerfully to
him than to the majority of those in the army.
As before, when the army arrived at Dublin, Captain Davenant's troop was
posted in and around Bray, the greater portion of it being permitted to
reside in their own homes, until again wanted for active service. Walter,
on his return, was glad to find that his friend John Whitefoot had made
his way home from Derry, and their pleasant intercourse was at once
renewed.
Schomberg's army, when moved to healthy quarters and bountifully supplied
with all kinds of food and necessaries from England, speedily recovered
their health and discipline, and, in a very short time, were again in
condition to take the field.
Early in February, 1690, Brigadier Wolseley, with a detachment of
Enniskilleners and English, marched against Cavan. James had no longer an
army with which he could oppose Schomberg's enterprises. While the latter
had been recovering from the effects of his heavy losses, nothing had
been 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 been
formed to supply them, when they should again advance; and so short of
forage were they, that it was considered impossible to make any move in
force, until the grass should grow sufficiently to enable the horses to
get into condition.
Nevertheless, the Duke of Berwick marched with eight hundred men from
Dublin, and Brigadier Nugent with a like force from West Meath and
Longford, and arrived at Cavan a few hours before the English reached the
town. The Irish force was composed entirely of infantry, with the
exception of two troops of cavalry. The English force consisted of seven
hundred foot, and three hundred cavalry.
As Cavan did not offer any advantages in the way of defence, the Duke of
Berwick moved his army out into the open field. The English lined the
hedges, and stood on the defensive. The Irish horse commenced the battle
with a furious charge on the Enniskilleners and dragoons, and drove them
from the field; but the English infantry maintained their position so
stoutly that, after a prolonged fight, the Irish retreated into a fort
near the town. The English and Enniskilleners entered Cavan, and at once
began to plunder the place.
Hearing what was going on, the Duke of Berwick sallied out from his fort
to attack them, and gained considerable advantage. Brigadier Wolseley,
being unable to restore discipline among the Enniskilleners, who formed
the great majority of his force, ordered the town to be set on fire in
several places. The troops then collected, and repulsed the Irish with
considerable loss.
The Duke of Berwick had two hundred killed, amongst whom were Brigadier
Nugent and many officers. As the Irish remained in possession of the
fort, and the town was almost entirely destroyed by fire, Brigadier
Wolseley returned with his force to Dundalk.
Shortly afterwards, the Fort of Charlemont was invested by a strong
detachment of Schomberg's army. Teigue O'Regan, the veteran governor,
defended the place with the greatest bravery, and did not capitulate
until the 14th of May, when the last ounce of provisions was consumed.
The garrison were allowed honourable terms, and the eight hundred men who
defended the place, with their arms and baggage, and some two hundred
women and children, were allowed to march away. The Enniskilleners
treated the Irish soldiers and their families with great brutality, as
they passed along, but Schomberg humanely ordered that a loaf of bread
should be given to each man at Armagh. The Irish army were not in
condition to render any assistance to the hard pressed garrison of
Charlemont, until after they had capitulated.
In the meantime, a great army, which was to be led by King William in
person, was being collected in England. It consisted of a strange medley,
collected from almost every European nation--English, Scotch, Irish
Protestants, 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 the
force under Schomberg, the army amounted to forty-three thousand men, and
fifty cannon.
King William landed at Carrickfergus, on the 14th of June, and the
combined army at once began their southward march. Against this force,
King James collected but twenty thousand men. Of these, six thousand were
French. They had arrived, under the command of the Count de Lauzun, in
March, but they had not increased the numbers of King James's troops, for
he had been obliged to send, in exchange, an equal number of his
best-trained soldiers, under Lord Mountcashel, for service in France. Of
the fourteen thousand native troops, the Irish horse, which was raised
and officered by Irish gentlemen, was excellent, but the infantry was
composed for the most part of raw levies, but half armed, and the only
artillery consisted of twelve guns, which had arrived with the infantry
from France.
It was a sad parting, when Captain Davenant and Walter left home for the
front. The former was filled with gloomy forebodings. He could scarcely
hope that the ill-trained levies of James could succeed against the
vastly superior force, of disciplined troops, with whom they had now to
cope; especially as the latter were led by an able and energetic general,
while the former were hampered by the incompetence and vacillation of
James.
The day before they started, Captain Davenant rode over to the Whitefoots
and had a talk with Jabez.
"I know not how the campaign will go," he said. "If we are beaten, we
shall probably retire to the west, and maintain the war there. In that
case, Dublin will of course fall into the hands of William. Should this
be so, I will ask you to reverse our late position, and to extend what
assistance you can to my wife and mother. It may be that, if I do not
return here, none will disturb them. I have not made myself obnoxious to
my Protestant neighbours, and no one may take the trouble to bring it
before the notice of the English that I am absent, fighting with the army
of King James. If, however, they should do so, and the castle and what
remains of the estates be confiscated, will you lend what aid you can to
the 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 any
talk of what you speak of, I will go up to Dublin with some of our
friends and ministers, and we will testify to the good relations which
have existed between you and your Protestant neighbours, and entreat that
no measures be taken against your estate. Should we not prevail, be
assured that I will look after the comfort of the ladies, as if they were
of my own family.
"I can well understand that Mrs. Davenant, the elder, would not accept
the shelter of our roof, whatever her extremity. She belongs to the
generation of my father, and cannot forget the past; but I will see that
they are well lodged in Bray, and have every protection from molestation
and annoyance there. Should I find, as, alas! may be the case, that the
spirit of religious persecution is fiercely abroad, I will consult with
them, as to whether they may wish to cross the sea until you can join
them, and will make arrangements, as they may direct, for their passage."
"I am truly obliged to you," Captain Davenant said. "It will make me
comfortable to know that, whatsoever may befall me, they will have a
friend in these stormy times."
"Say nought about it," Jabez replied. "Did not you and your son succour
my boy in his extremity? If I do all, and more than all that I can in
this matter, I shall not deem that we are quits."
The Irish army moved forward to the Boyne, which William was approaching
from the north. James's officers endeavoured to dissuade him from setting
everything on the hazard of the battle. They represented that his army,
though now quite unequal to the contest, was rapidly improving in skill
and confidence in itself; that reinforcements were every day expected
from France, which would at least make them equal to the enemy in
numbers; that they were in want of arms, artillery, and stores, all which
might be expected also from France, in a short period; and that their
policy was clearly to protract the war, and wear out the enemy by a
contest of posts and sieges.
Unskilled as his troops might be in the field, they had proved themselves
steady and resolute in the defence of fortified places. They held all the
great fortresses of the kingdom, and it would be easy to provide for the
defence of these, and to occupy William's army in small affairs, till the
winter, when the climate would do execution upon the invaders, while the
Irish would suffer little. Then would be the time to fight.
In the meantime, it was urged, the intrigues the French were actively
carrying out in Britain would have produced some effect. The French fleet
was, every day, expected on the coast of England, and William would soon
be compelled to return to that country, if not to recall the greater part
of his army. In Scotland, too, the French were busy; and there were
materials in that country for creating a powerful diversion. To fight now
would be to forego every advantage, and to meet the views of William,
whose obvious interest it was to bring the contest to an immediate
decision, 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 unfortunate
cowardice before Derry, and Schomberg's camp at Dundalk, he was, as
unfortunately, now seized with ardour to fight, when prudence and
discretion would have been his best policy. But while James was
determining to fight, in the teeth of the opinion and advice of his
bravest officers, his true character was shown in his taking every
precaution for his personal safety. He sent off his heavy baggage, and
engaged 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 people
were either discontented or indifferent. They looked with impatience and
indignation at the crowd of Dutch officers and civilians, whom William
had brought over with him; while the cold and ungracious manner of the
king contrasted, most unfavourably, with the bearing to which they had
been accustomed in English monarchs.
In Scotland, the Jacobite spirit was gathering in strength, and William
knew that, unless he speedily broke the strength of James's party in
Ireland, he would very shortly be confronted with difficulties and
dangers on all sides.
The position which the Irish army occupied was a strong one. Its right
rested upon Drogheda, a strong town in their possession. In front was the
Boyne, with steep banks lined with thick hedges, with cottages scattered
here and there, offering an excellent position for light troops. On the
left, the Boyne turned almost at a right angle, and formed a defence on
this flank. To the rear, the Irish position was covered by high hills and
the village of Donore. Further back was the pass of Duleek. The hedges
and cottages by the river side were occupied by the Irish infantry, and
upon some little hillocks, which ran along the water's edge, they erected
some light batteries.
King William reconnoitred the position with great attention, and saw that
it had been well chosen, and its advantages turned to account.
Notwithstanding the reports of deserters and others, he showed much
anxiety to determine the exact strength of the Irish. After examining the
position for some time from a height, he rode down towards the river,
accompanied by several of his officers. When within musket shot of the
bank, near the ford and village of Old Bridge, he perceived that a small
island in the Boyne was occupied by a party of the Irish horse. Near the
ford some field works had been thrown up. It was at this point that the
king determined to cross the river, and he spent some time conversing
with his officers, as to the arrangements for the passage.
He then rode slowly along the river bank, until he arrived nearly
opposite the left of the Irish line. Here he alighted from his horse, and
sat down on rising ground, watching his own battalions, which were
marching, with the greatest regularity and order, into the positions
assigned 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 in
watching the movements of the British troops. These were General
Sarsfield, the Duke of Berwick, the Marquis of Tyrconnell, the Count de
Lauzun, and others. Some of the English dragoons approached the river,
and were fired upon by the Irish. They returned the fire, and, while the
attention of both sides was engaged by the skirmish, a party of Irish
cavalry moved slowly down towards the river and halted behind a low
hedge, 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 behind
the hedge when the horsemen withdrew, and, when William rose from the
ground and mounted his horse, fire was opened. The first cannon shot
killed two horses, and a man by his side. The next grazed the king's
right shoulder, tearing away his coat and inflicting a slight flesh
wound. Had the aim been slightly more accurate, or had the gunners fired
with grape, instead of round shot, it is probable that the whole course
of history would have been changed.
The rumour spread through both armies that the king was killed; but the
wound was a slight one, and, having had it hastily bound up, the king
rode quietly through the camps, in order to show the men that the hurt
was not serious. In the evening, he called a council of war. The Duke of
Schomberg was strongly opposed to an attack upon the enemy, while posted
in so strong a position, and urged that, by making a turning movement and
marching straight upon Dublin, the enemy would be obliged to fall back,
and fight under less advantageous circumstances. But the king, relying
upon his superior numbers and the discipline of his veteran troops,
determined to attack at once, knowing that it was all important to bring
the matter to a decision, as early as possible.
Schomberg then urged the necessity of occupying the pass of Slane, upon
the Boyne, considerably to the west of the Irish line, as he would thus
cut off their retreat, and, in the event of victory, render their defeat
a decided one; but the king saw that he should require his whole force to
dislodge the Irish from their position, and that it was useless to occupy
the pass of Slane with a small detachment, as these would be overwhelmed
by the retiring Irish.
It was twelve o'clock at night, before the council terminated, and then
the king mounted his horse and rode through the camp. He examined into
the state and preparation of each regiment, saw that the soldiers were
abundantly supplied with food and refreshment for the morning, and that
sufficient ammunition for the day's work had been served out. He directed
the men to wear green branches in their caps, and gave "Westminster" as
the word for the day.
The order of the battle finally determined upon was that the right wing
of 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 the
Irish 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 was
difference of opinion. Some of the generals wished to hold the pass of
Slane in force, but James decided against this. As the morning
approached, the king's newborn courage began to die out. He ordered some
movements to the rear, and sent forward more of his baggage. He would
probably have declined the combat altogether, had it not been too late.
Finally, just as day was breaking over the council, he determined that
the army should retreat during the battle, and not commit themselves in a
decisive engagement. The French formed the left, and were to lead the
retreat, 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 into
action, instead of leading them out of the field, the result of the
battle of the Boyne would have been a very different one.