After the termination of the short siege of Athlone, the troop of Captain
Davenant were despatched to join the army near Limerick, and, on their
arrival there, were ordered to take up their quarters at the house of a
Protestant gentleman named Conyers, four miles from the town on the
Limerick side of the river.
It was a mansion of considerable size, standing in large grounds, for its
proprietor was one of the largest landowners in the county of Limerick,
his grandfather having been a colonel in one of Cromwell's regiments. Mr.
Conyers himself had gone to Dublin, upon the passing of the act
sequestrating the property of all the Protestants by James's parliament,
to endeavour to obtain a remission of the decree, so far as it concerned
his house and adjoining grounds. As he had influential friends there, he
had remained, urging his petition, until the battle of the Boyne and the
entry of King William into Dublin entirely changed the position. But he
then, owing to the disturbance of the country, and the fact that the
Irish army had retired to Limerick, found it impossible to return home.
He had, however, travelled with William's army, to which he was able to
give much useful information regarding the defences, and details of the
country round the town.
As Captain Davenant's troop rode up to the house, a lady, with a girl of
some sixteen years old, appeared at the door. Both looked very pale, for
they feared that the brutal conduct of which they had heard, of William's
army, would be followed by reprisals on the part of the Irish. They were
somewhat reassured, however, by Captain Davenant's manner as that officer
dismounted, raised his hat, and said:
"Madam, I have received orders to quarter my troop in the house, but I am
anxious, I can assure you, to cause as little inconvenience and annoyance
as possible, under the circumstances."
"We are only women here, sir," Mrs. Conyers said. "The house is at your
disposal. I myself and my daughter will move to the gardener's cottage,
and I trust that you will give orders to your men that we shall be free
from molestation there."
"I could not think of disturbing you in that manner," Captain Davenant
said. "I myself have a wife and mother alone at home, and will gladly
treat you with the same courtesy which I trust they will receive. Allow
me, in the first place, to introduce to you my lieutenant, Mr. O'Moore,
and my cornet, who is also my son, Walter. I see that you have extensive
stables and outbuildings. I am sure that my men, who are all good
fellows, and many of them the sons of farmers, will make themselves very
comfortable in these. I myself, and my two officers, will quarter
ourselves in the gardener's cottage you speak of."
"You are good, indeed, sir," Mrs. Conyers said gratefully; "but I could
not think of allowing you to do that, and shall indeed be pleased, if you
and your officers will take up your residence here as my guests."
"I thank you kindly; but that I could not do. My men will be well content
with the outhouses, if they see that we are content with the cottage; but
they might not be so, if they saw that we took up our quarters in the
house. Therefore, if you will allow me, I will carry out my own plan; but
I need not say that we shall be very pleased to visit you in the house,
at such times as may be agreeable to you."
After expressing their grateful thanks, Mrs. Conyers and her daughter
withdrew into the house. Captain Davenant then addressed a few words to
his men.
"The house will not hold you all, lads, and there are only ladies here,
and I am sure you would not wish to disturb and annoy them by crowding
their house. Therefore, I have arranged that you shall take up your
quarters in the outhouses, and that we shall occupy a little cottage on
the grounds. I hope, lads, that, for the honour of the country and the
cause, all will behave as peacefully and quietly as if in our own homes.
It would be a poor excuse that, because William's soldiers are behaving
like wild beasts, we should forget the respect due to lonely women."
A fortnight was spent here pleasantly for all. The first alarm past, Mrs.
Conyers felt safer than she had done for months. Ever since the troubles
had began, she had felt the loneliness of her position as a Protestant,
and she would have, long before, made her way with her daughter to
Dublin, had it not been that she thought that, so long as she continued
in the house, it might be respected by the Catholic peasantry, while,
were she to desert it, it would probably be plundered, perhaps burned to
the ground. Still, the position was a very trying one, especially since
the Jacobite army began to gather in force round Limerick.
She now felt that her troubles were comparatively over. The troops caused
no annoyance, and she heard but little of them, while she found in
Captain Davenant and his officers pleasant guests. The troops, on their
part, were well satisfied. Mrs. Conyers gave instructions that they were
to be supplied with all they needed, and their rations of bread and meat
were supplemented with many little comforts and luxuries from the house.
While Mrs. Conyers entertained the two elder officers, Walter naturally
fell to the share of her daughter, and the two soon became great friends,
wandering in the grounds, and sometimes riding together when Walter was
not engaged with the troop. The news came daily of the movements of
William's army, and when it approached, Captain Davenant's troop went far
out to observe its movements, and obtain an accurate idea of its
strength.
It was late in the evening when they returned, and Captain Davenant said
at supper:
"This is our last meal with you, Mrs. Conyers. We leave at daybreak, and
a few hours afterwards William's army will arrive before Limerick. We
shall be the losers, but you will be the gainer if, as you suppose, Mr.
Conyers is with them."
"I shall be really sorry for your going, Captain Davenant. It seemed a
terrible thing having a troop of hostile horse quartered upon one; but in
reality it has been a pleasant operation, rather than not, and I have
felt safer than I have done for months. I do hope that when these
troubles are over we shall renew our acquaintance, and that you will give
my husband an opportunity of thanking you for the kindness with which you
have treated us."
"The thanks should be on my side," Captain Davenant said. "You have made
what promised to be an unpleasant duty a most pleasant one. Our stay here
has been like a visit at a friend's, and I regret deeply that it has to
come to an end, a regret which I am sure Lieutenant O'Moore and my son
share."
"We do, indeed," the lieutenant said.
Walter and Claire Conyers said nothing. They had talked it over early
that morning before the troop started, and Walter had expressed his deep
regret that their pleasant time was at an end; and, although the girl had
said little, she was far less bright and happy than might have been
expected, considering that upon the following day she should probably see
her father.
Captain Davenant's troop rode off at daybreak, kept down the Shannon to
Limerick, and, crossing the bridge, entered the city, and received orders
there to take up their quarters in a village some four miles up the
river. Thus, they were less than a mile distant from Mrs. Conyers' house,
although separated from it by the Shannon; and from an eminence near the
village, the roof and chimneys of the mansion could be seen rising above
the trees by which it was surrounded.
During the day, the sound of the firing before Limerick could be plainly
heard; but little attention was paid to it, for it was certain that no
attack could be made in earnest upon the town, until the battering
artillery came up, and there was but little hope that the cavalry would
be called up for any active service at present.
After dinner, Walter strolled out to the eminence, and looked across
towards the house where he had spent so happy a time, and wondered
whether Mr. Conyers had by this time arrived, and whether, in the
pleasure of his coming, all thought of the late visitors had been
forgotten. Presently Larry sauntered up, and took a seat on a wall a few
paces away. Larry was a general favourite in the troop. He did not ride
in its ranks, but accompanied it in the capacity of special servant of
Walter, and as general attendant to the three officers.
"We had a good time of it, yer honour," he said presently.
Walter turned round sharply, for he had not heard him approach.
"We had, Larry," he said, with a smile. "We shall find it rougher work
now."
"We shall, yer honour.
"I was thinking to myself," he said, confidentially, "that if you might
be wanting to send a bit of a letter, it's meself could easily make a
boat, with some osiers and the skin of that bullock we had given us for
the rations of the troops today."
"Send a letter, Larry! Who should I be sending a letter to?"
"Sure yer honour knows better than me. I thought maybe you would be
liking to let the young lady know how we're getting on now, and to find
out whether her father has come home, and how things are going. Yer
honour will excuse me, but it just seemed natural that you should be
wishing to send a line; and a sweeter young lady never trod the sod."
Walter could not help laughing at the gleam of quiet humour in Larry's
face.
"I don't know, lad. You have pretty well guessed my thoughts; but it
can't be. The opposite bank will be swarming with William's men--it would
be a most dangerous business. No, it's not to be thought of."
"Very well, yer honour, it's just as you like; but you have only got to
hand me a bit of paper, and give me a wink of your eye, and I will do it.
As to William's sodgers, it's little I fear them; and if all one hears of
their doings be true, and I had a pretty young creature a mile away from
me, with those blackguards round about her, it's anxious I should be for
a line from her hand;" and Larry got down from his seat, and began to
walk away towards the village.
Walter stood silent for a moment.
"Wait, Larry," he said.
Larry turned, with a look of surprise upon his face.
"Come here," Walter said impatiently. "Of course I am anxious--though I
don't know how you could have guessed it."
"Sure yer honour," Larry said with an innocent look, "when a gentleman
like yourself is for ever walking and riding with a purty colleen, it
don't need much guessing to suppose that you would be worrying after her,
with such creatures as the Northerners and the furreners in her
neighbourhood."
"And you seriously think you could take a letter across to her, Larry?"
"Sure and I could, yer honour. The nights are dark, and I could get
across the river widout a sowl being the wiser, and make my way to the
stables, and give it to one of the boys, who will put it in the hands of
Bridget, Miss Claire's own maid; and I could go back, next night, for the
answer."
"But if you can do it, I can," Walter said.
"What would be the good, yer honour? It's only the outside of the house
you would see, and not the young lady. Besides, there's a lot more risk
in your doing it than there is with me. You are an officer of the king's,
and if you were caught on that side of the river, it's mighty little
trial they'd give you before they run you up to the bough of a tree, or
put a bullet into you. With me, it's different. I am just a country boy
going to see my cousin Pat Ryan, who works in the stables at the house.
Pat would give me a character, no fear."
"Well, I will think of it," Walter said.
"And I will get the boat ready at once, your honour. A few sticks and a
green hide will make a boat fit for Dublin Bay, to say nothing of
crossing a smooth bit of water like this."
After Larry had left him, Walter walked up and down for some time. He had
certainly thought, vaguely, that he should like Claire Conyers to know
that he was still within sight of her house; but the possibility of
sending her word had not occurred to him, until his follower suggested
it. Larry's suggestion of possible danger to her made him uneasy. Even if
her father was with the king, and had already returned home, he would
frequently be absent in the camp, and who could tell but some band of
plunderers might visit the house in his absence! The Protestants had been
plundered and ill-used by William's men round Athlone, and might be here.
It would certainly be well to know what was going on across the water.
After the kindness they had received, surely it would be only civil to
let the Conyers know where they were posted. At any rate, Claire could
not be offended at his writing; besides, he might arrange some plan by
which he might get news from Larry's friend, Pat Ryan.
As he went down to the village he heard roars of laughter, and, passing a
cottage, saw Larry with five or six of the troopers round him. Larry was
seated on the ground, making a framework in the shape of a saucer four
feet in diameter.
"And what are you wanting a boat for, Larry?"
"Sure, I am mighty fond of fishing," Larry said. "Didn't you know that?"
"I know you are a fisherman at home, Larry; but if it's fishing you want,
there are two large boats hauled up on the bank."
"They are too big," Larry said. "I should want half a dozen men to launch
them, and then you would want to go with me, and the bare sight of you
would be enough to frighten away all the fish in the Shannon. But I will
have a look at the boats. The captain might want a party to cross the
river, and it's as well to see that they are in good order, and have got
the oars and thole pins handy. I will see to them myself, for there are
not half a dozen of ye know one end of the boat from the other."
When Walter reached his quarters, he at once sat down to write. After
many attempts he finished one as follows:
"Dear Miss Conyers:
"After the kindness shown to us by Mrs. Conyers and yourself, I feel sure
that you will like to know where we are posted. We are at Ballygan, just
across the Shannon opposite to your house, and I can see your roof from a
spot fifty yards from the village. It seems a pleasure to me to be so
close, even though we are as much divided as if there were the sea
between us.
"I hope that Mr. Conyers has returned, and that you will have no trouble
with William's troops, whose reputation for good behaviour is not of the
best. I hope that, now that you are among your friends, you have not
quite forgotten us, and that you will let me have a line to say how you
are, and how things are going on with you. My boy Larry is going to take
this across, and will call tomorrow night for an answer, if you are good
enough to send one."
"When will your boat be finished, Larry?" he asked his follower, as the
latter came in, just as it was getting dusk.
"She will be finished tomorrow. The framework is done, and I could make a
shift, if your honour wished, just to fasten the skin on so that it would
take me tonight."
"If you could, I would rather, Larry."
"All right, your honour!" Larry said, with a slight smile. "Two hours'
work will do it."
"I know where you are making it, Larry, and will come round when I go to
inspect sentries, at eleven o'clock. We shall post ten men, a quarter of
a mile apart, on the bank, and I will give orders for them to look out
for you. The word will be 'Wicklow;' so when you come across they will
shout to you, 'Who comes there?' You say, 'Wicklow;' and it will be all
right."
At the hour he had named, Walter went round for Larry, who was working by
the light of a torch stuck in the ground.
"I have just finished it, yer honour; but I was obliged to stop till the
boys got quiet; they were so mighty inquisitive as to what I was in such
a hurry about, that I had to leave it alone for a while."
"Look here, Larry, here is the letter, but that's not the principal
reason why I am sending you across. You will give it to Pat Ryan, as you
suggested, to pass on through Bridget to Miss Conyers; but I want you to
arrange with him that he shall, tomorrow, get some dry sticks put
together on the bank opposite, with some straw, so that he can make a
blaze in a minute. Then do you arrange with him that, if any parties of
William's troops come to the house in the absence of Mr. Conyers, and
there should seem likely to be trouble, he is to run as hard as he can
down to the river. If it is day, he is to wave a white cloth on a stick.
If it is night, he is to light the fire. Tell him to arrange with Bridget
to run at once to him and tell him, if there is trouble in the house,
for, as he is in the stables, he may not know what is going on inside.
"I have been looking at those boats. They will carry fifteen men each at
a pinch; and if the signal is made, we shall not be long in getting
across. Pat would only have about half a mile to run. We will get the
boats down close to the water's edge, and it won't take us many minutes
to get across. Anyhow, in twenty minutes from the time he starts, we
might be there."
"That will be a moighty good plan, yer honour. Now, if you will go down
to the water with me, I will be off at once. I sha'n't be away half an
hour; and I can slip up into the loft where Pat sleeps, and not a sowl be
the wiser, if there was a regiment of William's troops about the house."
"All right, Larry! I shall wait here for you till you get back."
Larry raised the light craft and put it on his head. He had made a couple
of light paddles, by nailing two pieces of wood on to mop sticks.
Walter accompanied him to the water's edge, and told the sentry there
that Larry was crossing the river on business, and would return in half
an hour's time, and that he was not to challenge loudly when he saw him
returning.
The night was dark, and Walter soon lost sight of the little boat. Then
he waited anxiously. He had, however, but little fear that the enemy
would have posted sentries so far down the river, especially as he would
only just have pitched his camp opposite Limerick.
It was three-quarters of an hour before he heard a faint splash in the
water. The sentry heard it, too.
"Shall I challenge, sir?"
"No. Wait for a minute. We shall soon see whether it is Larry. Should
there be anyone on the opposite bank, he might hear the challenge, and
they would keep a sharp lookout in future."
The sound came nearer and nearer.
"Who goes there?" Walter said in a quiet voice.
"'Wicklow!' and it's mighty glad I am to hear your voice, for it's so
dark I began to think I had lost myself entirely."
"Is all well, Larry?" Walter asked, as the light boat touched the bank.
"All is well, your honour," Larry said, stepping ashore, and lifting the
light boat on to his head.
"You had better stow it away close here, Larry, till the morning. It's so
dark that you will be sure to pitch over something, if you go further.
"Now, tell me all about it," he went on, as Larry stowed away the boat
among some bushes.
"There is little enough to tell, yer honour. I just rowed across and
landed, and made straight for the house. Everything was quiet and still.
I went round to the stables, and up into the loft where Pat sleeps.
"'Are you there, Pat Ryan,' says I?
"'Who is it calls Pat Ryan?' says he.
"'It's myself, Larry, Mr. Davenant's boy.'
"'Why, I thought you had gone,' says he. 'Are you sure it's yourself?'
says he.
"'And who else should it be, Pat Ryan? Don't yer know my voice?'
"By this time I had got into the corner where he slept, and touched him.
"'I am glad to feel you, Larry,' says he, 'for I wasn't sure that you
hadn't fallen in with the troopers, and it wasn't your ghost that come to
visit me.'
"'Whist,' says I, 'I have no time to waste upon ye. The master and the
troops are stationed just across the river, at Ballygan. Mr. Davenant has
given me a letter for Miss Conyers, telling her all about it. I don't
exactly know what he said, and maybe she would like it given privately,
so do you hand it to Bridget in the morning, and ask her to give it to
her mistress, and to hand over to you any answer there may be. I will
come across for it tomorrow night. But that's not all, Pat. You know the
devil's work that William's men have been carrying on, on the march.'
"'Av course, everyone has heard the tales of the villains' doings,
Larry.'
"'Well, the young master is mighty anxious about it, as you may guess.
Has Mr. Conyers come?'
"'Yes. He rode in at four this afternoon.'
"'Well, Mr. Davenant says you will all be safe as long as he's here, but
maybe that at some time, when he's away, you may have a troop of these
villains of the world ride in here, and little they care whether it's
Protestants or Catholics that they plunder. So, if they come here and
begin their devilries, you run for your life down to the river, opposite
Ballygan, with a white cloth or a shirt, if it's daytime, and wave it.
You are to have a pile of sticks and straw ready, and, if it's night, ye
will just set it in a blaze, and there will be help over before many
minutes. You stop there till they come, to tell them how strong the enemy
are.
"'The master says you are to tell Bridget about it, so that, if they
misbehave themselves inside the house, she can slip out and let you know.
You understand that?'
"'I do,' says he; 'and its a comfort to me, for it's fretting I have been
over what might happen, if a troop of those murderin' villains were to
come here, and not a sowl save me and the other boys to take the part of
the mistress and Miss Claire.'
"'Well, you know now, Pat, what's to be done, and see you do it; and now
I must go, for the master is waiting for me. I will be with you tomorrow
night for the answer.'
"And so I came back, and I lost ten minutes looking about for the boat,
for it was so mighty dark that I could not see a fut. I kicked against it
and very near fell over it. It's well I didn't, for I should have knocked
it into smithereens, entirely!"
"Capital, Larry! you couldn't have done better. Now I shall feel
comfortable."
After breakfast, Walter told his father of the mission on which he had
sent Larry, and the arrangement he had made with Pat Ryan.
"You ought to have told me at first, Walter. I do not blame you, but you
should not do things on your own responsibility."
"But so far, father, it has not been a regimental affair. I simply sent
my own boy with a note to Miss Conyers, just to say where we were; but,
as it may be an affair in which some of the troop may have to act, I have
told you about it, so that you can make what arrangements you like."
"It's rather a fine distinction, Walter," his father said, smiling. "It
seems to me that you have engaged us to send a detachment across the
river, in case of trouble at Mrs. Conyers'. However, I heartily agree
with you that our kind friends should be protected from injury and
insult.
"How many will the boats hold?"
"Thirteen or fourteen men each."
"Very well, then. I authorize you, at any time, if I am away with a
portion of the troop, to take twenty-five men across if the signal is
made. If I am here I shall, of course, go over myself. You can take any
measures of preparation you may think necessary."
Walter availed himself of the permission, and at once gave orders to the
sentry posted on the river, in front of the village, that if a white flag
was waved by day, or a fire lit by night on the opposite bank, he was to
shout loudly and fire his pistol, and that these orders were to be passed
on to the sentry who succeeded him at the post. Then he picked out
twenty-five men, and told them that, at any time in the night or day, if
they heard a shot fired by the sentry they were to seize their arms, rush
down to the boats, launch them and take their places, and wait for
orders. He told them to sleep without removing any of their clothes, so
as to be ready for instant action.
The next night, Larry again crossed and brought back a little note from
Claire Conyers, thanking Walter for letting her know they were so close,
telling him of her father's return, and saying that there was no fear of
her mother or herself forgetting their late visitors. It was a prettily
written little note, and Walter was delighted at receiving it.
"Well, my boy," Captain Davenant said with a little smile, when Walter
told him next morning that he had heard from Miss Conyers, "as you seem
specially interested in this affair, I will let you have the honour and
glory of being the first to come to the rescue of Miss Conyers and her
mother, if they should need it; and therefore, whether I am here or not,
I give you permission to cross at once, in the two boats, if you get the
signal. But on reaching the other side you are to send the two boats back
at once, with two men in each, and I will bring the rest of the troop
across as fast as possible. There is no saying what force you may find
there. I shall leave it to your discretion to attack at once, or to wait
until I come up with reinforcements. You will, of course, be guided
partly by the strength of the enemy, partly by the urgency for instant
interference for the protection of the ladies."
Four days passed quietly. There was but little for the cavalry to do.
Small parties were posted at various spots, for some miles down the
river, to give notice should the enemy appear on the opposite bank and
show any intention of making a crossing; and, beyond furnishing these
guards, the troop had little to do.
Walter spent much of his time watching the opposite bank. He hardly knew
whether he wished the signal to be displayed or not--he certainly desired
no trouble to befall the ladies; but, on the other hand, the thought of
rushing to their rescue was undoubtedly a pleasant one. Larry spent much
of his time at the water's edge, fishing--a pursuit in which many of the
troopers joined; and they were able to augment the daily rations by a
good supply of salmon.
On the fifth day, the officers had just finished supper, when the sound
of a pistol shot was heard. Walter leaped from his seat, snatched up his
sword and pistols, and ran down to the river. The men were already
clustering round the boats. A minute later these were in the water, and
the men jumped on board. They too were eager for the work, for Larry had
whispered among them that, if the signal was made, it would signify that
a band of the enemy's marauders were at Mrs. Conyers'; and all had been
so kindly treated there that they were eager to repay the treatment they
had received. Besides, there was not a man in the Irish army whose heart
had not been fired at the recitals of the brutality of the enemy, and
filled with deep longings for vengeance upon the perpetrators of the
deeds.
Walter counted the men as they rowed across, and was pleased to find that
not one of them was missing. He ordered the two men who were at the oars
in each boat to return, the instant the rest had landed, to fetch another
detachment across.
As they reached the land, the men sprang out. Pat Ryan was standing at
the landing place.
"Well, Pat, what is it?"
"A troop of Hessian horse, your honour. Half an hour ago they rode up to
the doors. Mrs. Conyers came out to meet them, and told them that she was
a loyal Protestant, and wife of a gentleman high in the king's councils,
who was in the camp. The blackguards only laughed. The officers, with
some of the men, dismounted and pushed their way past her into the house,
and the rest of the troop tied their horses up to the trees on the lawn,
and shouted to me, and some of the other boys who were looking on, to
bring forage. I suppose we weren't quick enough for them, for one of them
drew his pistol and fired at me. Fortunately, he only hit the truss of
straw I was carrying. Then I went round to the back door, where I had
agreed that Bridget was to come to me, if things were going wrong in the
house. A few minutes afterwards she came out, with a white face, and
said: 'For the sake of the Holy Virgin, run for your life, Pat, and warn
the soldiers!' So I slipped away and ran my hardest."
All this was told as the party were running at full speed towards the
house.
"How strong was the troop?" Walter asked.
"About eighty men, yer honour."
"We must trust to a surprise," Walter said. "We can get round to the back
of the house without being seen. If we burst in there suddenly, we can
clear the house and hold it till my father comes up with the whole
troop."
Five minutes after they had left the boat, the party approached the
house. Walter halted his men for a moment in the shrubbery behind it.
"Steady, lads, and take breath. You will follow me into the house, and
keep together. Give no quarter to the scoundrels."
Scarcely had he spoken than a piercing scream, accompanied by a pistol
shot, was heard within.
"Come on, lads!" Walter exclaimed, as he rushed at full speed at the
door, the men following close at his heels.
The door was open. In the passage lay one of the maidservants, shot
through the head by one of the Hessian troopers, who still held the
pistol in his hand. Walter's pistol cracked before the man had time to
draw his sword, and he fell dead.
Then he rushed on into the hall, in which were a score of troopers,
gathered round a barrel of wine which had just been broached. In an
instant, the Irish were upon them. Many were cut down or shot, before
they had time to stand on the defensive. The rest were slain after a
short and desperate fight.
"Bar the front door!" Walter shouted. "Sergeant Mullins, take six men and
hold it against those outside. The rest follow me."
Short as the fight had been, it had given time to the rest of the
Hessians, scattered about the house in the act of plundering, to gather
on the stair, headed by their officers. Without a moment's hesitation
Walter dashed at them. In point of numbers the party were well matched;
but the fury of the Irishmen more than counterbalanced the advantage of
position on the part of the Hessians.
For five minutes a desperate fight raged. Those in front grappled each
other, and fought with clubbed pistols and shortened swords. Those behind
struck a blow as they could with sword or musket.
But the Hessians, ignorant of the strength of the force which had
suddenly thus attacked them, thought more of securing their safety than
of defending the stairs, so several of those behind slipped away and
jumped from the windows to the ground. Their desertion disheartened those
in front, and, with a shout, Walter and his troopers bore back the
Hessians on to the landing, and the latter then broke and fled. Most of
them were overtaken and cut down at once. Two or three only gained the
windows and leaped out.
The instant resistance had ceased, Walter rushed into the drawing room,
bidding the men run down and hold the lower windows. Mrs. Conyers lay in
a dead faint on the sofa. Claire, with a face as pale as death, was
standing beside her.
"Walter!" she gasped out; "then we are safe!"
She tottered, and would have fallen, had not Walter rushed forward in
time to catch her, and place her in a chair:
"Don't faint, my dear Claire," he said urgently. "There is your mother to
be looked after, and I must run downstairs, for they are attacking the
house."
"I won't faint," Claire said, laughing and crying in a manner which
frightened Walter more than her fainting would have done. "I shall be
better directly, but it seems almost like a miracle. Oh, those dreadful
men!"
"They have all gone now, Claire. We hold the house, and have cleared them
out. Pray, calm yourself and attend to your mother. I must go. Don't be
frightened at the firing. My father will be here in a few minutes, with
aid."
"Oh! I am not frightened, now," Claire said; "and oh! Walter, you are
bleeding dreadfully."
"Never mind that now," Walter said; "I will see to it, when it is all
over."
Then, leaving her to look after Mrs. Conyers, he ran downstairs. His
right arm was disabled, he having received a sweeping blow on the
shoulder from one of the Hessians, as he won his way on to the landing;
but he had no time to think of this now, for his men were hardly pressed.
For a moment, a panic had reigned among the troopers outside, at the
outburst of firing, and at the sight of their comrades leaping
panic-stricken from the windows; but inquiry soon showed them that they
were still greatly superior in numbers to the party who had obtained
possession of the hall; and, furious at the loss of all their officers,
and of many of their comrades, they attacked on all sides, and tried to
force their way in at the doors and lower windows, in spite of the
vigorous resistance from within. Walter hurried from point to point,
cheering on his men by assurance that help was at hand, and seeing that
no point had been left undefended.