Desmond was not present with the French army, for many hours after
their arrival at Ghent. He suffered intense pain on the ride
thither, and was then taken to a hospital that had been hastily
formed for the reception of wounded officers. Here the surgeons
had agreed that there was nothing for it, but to amputate the arm
halfway between the wrist and the elbow. The limb was already
greatly swollen.
"Under ordinary circumstances," the surgeon said, "we should wait
until we had reduced the inflammation, but this might be a matter
of a week or ten days, and there is no time to spare, as the army
will probably march away in a few days, and travel would increase
the inflammation to such an extent that your life might be
sacrificed."
"I would rather have it taken off at once, doctor," Desmond said.
"The operation cannot hurt very much more than the arm is hurting
already, and the sooner it is over, the better."
Surgery was in its infancy at that time. Anesthetics were undreamt
of; but the surgeons of the French army had large experience, and
the operation was very skilfully performed, for the time. The
stump was then seared with a hot iron.
"You have stood it well," the surgeon said, for, except when the
iron was applied to the wound, no groan had issued from Desmond's
lips. "Now, your servant must keep these dressings continually
soaked with water, and, in a few days, we may hope that you will
be able to travel in a waggon without danger."
When the army marched away a week later, Desmond was placed in a
waggon, half filled with hay, with several other wounded officers.
At Arras, where there was a large military hospital, he was kept
for a few days, and then sent on to Amiens, only the most severe
cases being retained at Arras, as another engagement might take
place at any moment, and the resources of the town would be taxed
to the utmost. He gained strength very slowly, and it was six
weeks before the surgeons pronounced him to be sufficiently
convalescent to be moved.
"It would," they said, "be probably some months before he would be
fit to return to active service."
He was sitting, looking listlessly out of the window of the
chamber that he and three other officers occupied, when Mike came
in, followed, to Desmond's intense surprise, by Monsieur de la
Vallee.
"My dear Desmond," the latter exclaimed, hurrying forward and
grasping his hand, "you must have thought that we had all
forgotten you."
"Indeed, I never thought anything of the kind, Philip. I did not
suppose that you had ever heard of me, since we parted at
Moulins."
"News travels but slowly, but we did hear that fifteen subalterns
of O'Brien's regiment were captured in the Salisbury. I wrote to a
friend in Paris, and he told me that you were among the number,
but that, on making enquiries, he found you had, in some manner or
other, effected your escape, and that you and two other officers
had had an audience with the king, and had then gone to the
northern frontier on the staff of the Duke of Berwick. I wrote
begging him to get, if possible, a sight of the despatches, and if
your name appeared, to let us know. Ten days ago, I received a
letter from him, to say that you had been wounded at Oudenarde.
The Duke of Berwick had, in his private despatch to the king,
mentioned your name with very high praise, saying that it was due
to you, alone, that so many of the troops hemmed in at some
village or other--I forget its name--managed to make their escape
during the night, for, although he sent off four aides-de-camp
with orders, you alone managed to get through the enemy, though
wounded by a bullet which had caused you the loss of your hand. He
said he had written to the chief surgeon on Berwick's staff, who
was a personal friend of his, to ascertain, if possible, where you
were. Of course, I set out as soon as I received his letter."
"What! Have you ridden all the way from the south of France to
come to me, Philip?"
"Of course I have, and should have ridden all across Europe, if it
had been necessary. I went round by Pointdexter. The baron is laid
up with an attack of gout, or he would have accompanied me. He
sent all sorts of messages, and so did Anne, and the latter
informed me that I need not show my face at the chateau again,
until I came accompanied by you. When I reached Paris my friend
had learned from the surgeon that you were at Amiens, and so, here
I am.
"I met your faithful Mike at the gate of the hospital. I was glad,
indeed, to see that he had come out unharmed from that terrible
fight. When I told him I had come to take you away, he almost
cried with joy."
"It will be the saving of him," he said. "He has been going down
the hill for the last fortnight, and it is change and good nursing
he wants."
"He will get good nursing, I warrant," I said, "and the soft air
of the south will soon set him up."
"It is wonderfully kind of you, Philip; but I am sure I am not
strong enough to ride."
"No one is thinking of your riding, at present, Desmond. I have
brought down a horse litter with me, and four of my men, with the
quietest horses on the estate, and all you have to do is to lie
down in it, and talk with me whenever you are disposed. You have a
whole batch of adventures to tell me."
"I feel better already, Philip. I own that I have been downhearted
of late, for it seemed to me that I should be an invalid for
months, and be living in Paris without a friend except Mike, for
all the regiments of the Brigade are either with Vendome or in
Spain. The sight of your face, and the thought of your kindness,
so cheers me that I feel capable of anything."
"Well, we will start tomorrow morning, Desmond. I shall go at once
and see the director of the hospital, and get an order for your
discharge."
The next morning they set out. Desmond had to be assisted
downstairs. There he was laid on a litter, packed with soft rugs.
This was raised and placed between two horses, ridden by two of de
la Vallee's men. De la Vallee himself took his place by the side
of the litter, Mike rode on ahead leading Desmond's charger, and
the other two servants fell to the rear, in readiness to change
with those bearing the litter, when half the day's journey was
done.
Seeing that the exertion of being moved had exhausted his friend,
de la Vallee rode for some time in silence. Then, when Desmond
opened his eyes and smiled at him, he said:
"I hope you are feeling comfortable?"
"Perfectly. I hardly feel any motion."
Every care had been taken to prevent jolting. The poles of the
litter were unusually long, thus adding to their elasticity. The
ends passed through leathern loops suspended from the saddle; and
were, at this point, covered with a thick wrapping of flannel
bandages, which aided in minimizing the effect of any jar. The
first day's journey was performed at a walking pace, and they
reached Beauvais, twenty-five miles being accomplished.
The fresh air and the slight easy motion were beneficial, and in
the afternoon, Desmond was able to talk cheerfully with his
friend. There was, however, no continued conversation, Philip
saying he would ask no questions about Desmond's doings until he
was stronger. His story had better be told while sitting quietly
in a room, where it would not be necessary, as it was on the road,
for the voice to be raised.
In the evening, however, after partaking of supper, Desmond,
without being asked, related the incidents, so far as he knew
them, of the battle of Oudenarde, and of the manner in which he
received his wound.
"The whole disaster was due entirely to the Duke of Burgundy, or
rather to the king, who placed him in command over two generals of
the highest skill and reputation. If he had wanted to accompany
the army, Burgundy should have done so just as our King James did,
merely as a volunteer.
"I am told that the king showed great courage in the battle. For
my part, I think his presence was altogether a mistake. He claims
that the English are his subjects, and yet he takes part with a
foreign army in battle against them. His being present will
certainly not add to his popularity in England."
"I agree with you," de la Vallee said. "It would have been much
wiser for him to have abstained, altogether, from interference in
the matter. It was, of course, a different thing when he attempted
to land in Scotland. Then he would have been leading the loyal
portion of his subjects, against those whom he considers rebels
against his authority. That was quite a different thing from
acting, without cause or reason, as a volunteer in the French
army, against those whom he regards as his countrymen and
subjects.
"I am afraid, Desmond, that, though it may shock you to think so,
these Stuart princes of yours are not wise men. Legitimate
monarchs of England though they may be, they do not possess the
qualities that endear kings to their people. From what I have
heard, James was a heavy pedant, a rank coward, essentially not a
man to be popular among a spirited people. Charles had a noble
presence and many fine qualities. But, although his ideas of
kingly power would have suited us well enough in France, his
arbitrary measures alienated a large proportion of his people, and
brought ruin upon him.
"Your second Charles, in spite of his numerous indiscretions, was
not unpopular, because the people were wearied of the stern
repression of Puritan rule, and were therefore disposed to look
leniently upon his frailties, while they appreciated his good
temper and wit. His fatal mistake was allying himself so closely
with us--a grievous mistake, indeed, when we remember that for
centuries the two nations had been bitterly opposed to each other.
As for his brother, he forfeited his throne by his leanings
towards the Catholic Church, in whose communion he died.
Decidedly, the Stuart kings were not a success.
"As to James the Third, as you call him, I know nothing beyond the
fact that he is a protege of the king of France, and has now
fought against his own people--a blunder, as it seems to me, of
the worst kind, and one which is certain to alienate many of his
supporters on the other side of the water. Were he to mount the
throne, it would be partly due to the aid of French troops and
French money--men and money, mind you, of a power at war with
England! He would therefore, necessarily, like Charles the Second,
be regarded as a protege of France. He would be bound in gratitude
to Louis, and the position of England would be altogether changed.
She would become the ally of Spain and France, her ancient
enemies; and opponent of her present allies, Holland, Austria,
Protestant Germany, and Denmark."
Desmond was silent. He could not but agree with what his friend
said, and had himself considered that it was a most unwise step
for James to appear in the field, fighting against his countrymen.
"I don't think I am strong enough to argue, Philip," he said with
a smile, after a long pause, "and I don't mean to give you a
victory, when I am fighting under disadvantages. The Stuarts
certainly never did any special benefit to Ireland, and assuredly
brought ruin and misery upon us; and at the present moment, I
don't seem able to explain why we should be so devoted to the
cause of these Scottish Stuarts, rather than to that of Anne, who
is, after all, of the same family and race. However, we will fight
it out when my brain is not so dull as it is at present."
They slept the next night at Pontoise, having made a somewhat
short journey, though Desmond protested that he felt quite equal
to going on to Paris.
"You are a good deal better today, Desmond, but there is no hurry,
and we will take matters quietly. If you continue to make
improvement we shall be able, in another day or two, to travel
faster; and I hope that, before we get to the end of our journey,
you will be strong enough to sit your horse for a few miles each
day."
They made no stay in Paris, but proceeded on their way, the
morning after their arrival. Melun and Montargis were their next
halting places. Desmond was gaining strength rapidly. His good
spirits were returning, and at their evening halt, he had been
able to recite the history of his escape from England. His wound
had a less angry appearance, and on the day of their leaving
Montargis the horses, at his request, occasionally broke into a
trot for a mile or two.
"You are looking paler. I think the motion is too much for you,"
Philip said after one of these occasions, when they again settled
down to a walking pace.
"I feel a bit tired, Philip, but one must make a beginning, and I
shall never get strong unless I begin to use my muscles. At
present, I acknowledge I feel as if I had been beaten all over
with sticks, but I have no doubt that I shall shake this off,
after a bit."
This was indeed the case, and on the last three days of their
journey to Pointdexter, he sat his horse for two or three hours.
Philip had, on the last day, sent on one of his men to inform the
baron that he would arrive that evening with Desmond, and as they
were seen approaching, the baron and his daughter came out from
the chateau, and welcomed them as they alighted.
"Do not upset the young fellow by appearing shocked at his
appearance," the former had said to Anne. "It was certainly a
blow, this morning, to hear that he had lost his left hand, and
that the greater portion of the journey had had to be performed in
a litter, so you must expect to find him greatly pulled down. But
see, they are breaking into a trot, so he has evidently gained
strength on the way."
In spite of the warning, the girl's eyes filled with tears as she
saw Desmond's thin face and wasted figure, and his left arm in a
sling.
"Welcome to Pointdexter, Monsieur Kennedy! Many have entered here,
since the old chateau was built, but none who have rendered such
vital service to our race. Do not try to speak. I see that you are
shaken with your journey. We will soon put that all right."
"It has been a rather longer journey than we have previously
made," Desmond said, after dismounting and shaking hands with the
baron and his daughter, "and we rode somewhat faster than usual,
as we were both of us anxious to be here. It was good, indeed, of
Philip to make such a journey to find and bring me to you."
"If he had not done so, assuredly we should. My foot was so bad,
with this villainous gout, that I could not put it in a stirrup,
but we should have had out the family coach. I had half a mind to
do so as it was, and Anne was most anxious to try her powers of
nursing, but Philip overruled us, and said that he would be with
you a week earlier than we could reach you in the coach, and that,
moreover, he was sure the journey in an open horse litter would be
far better for you than being jolted in a close carriage. So, as
usual, he had his own way; though I must say that, for once, Anne
rebelled strongly against his authority."
"You are all very good, Baron," Desmond said; "but, indeed, I
think that Philip was right. I can assure you that the journey has
done me an immense deal of good, and he will tell you that I am
very different, now, from what I was when he found me at Amiens,
for I had begun to think that I should never get away alive."
"Do not let us stay talking here," the baron said. "Anne has had
some soup prepared for you, under her own eyes; and that, and a
glass or two of good Burgundy, will do wonders for you."
Desmond, indeed, was greatly revived, and was able to join in a
cheerful conversation with his hosts.
"We are both dying to hear your adventures," the baron said, "and
how you managed to escape from that jail in England, as you did,
and also how it was that we met with that dreadful disaster at
Oudenarde. It really seems that those terrible fellows,
Marlborough and Prince Eugene, are invincible."
"They are good generals, Baron. Beyond troubles with the
commanders of the forces of their allies, they are able to carry
out their own plans. The Dukes of Vendome and Berwick are also
able commanders, but they were hampered by the presence of the
Duke of Burgundy, who, on several occasions, overruled their
opinions and ruined their plans. It is to him, alone, that the
defeat at Oudenarde is due. The French soldiers fought as well as
ever, and it was the position in which they were placed, and not
the superior fighting powers of the enemy, that caused their
defeat."
"But how is it," the baron asked, "that with, as I hear, one
hundred and ten thousand men, Vendome does not raise the siege of
Lille? It seems incredible that, with so great a force, he should
remain inactive while the enemy are carrying out their works for
the siege."
"That I cannot tell you, sir. We heard all sorts of rumours at
Amiens, but it seems that Marlborough had taken up a strong
position, and entrenched himself there with seventy thousand men,
while Eugene is conducting the siege operations."
"I don't understand it," the baron said, irritably. "There must be
more ways of marching to Lille than one. If one road is barred,
why not advance by another? The Duke of Burgundy is not with the
army now, so the blame cannot be put on him."
"No, sir; but Berwick's army is still, as I hear, under his
independent command, and the duke, excellent soldier as he is, is
not one to be easily led. If his opinion differs from that of
Vendome, he would assuredly maintain it; and as his manner is not
conciliatory, and his opinions are very strongly expressed, it may
well be that there are, as was rumoured at Amiens, constant
dissensions between him and Vendome."
"Well, it seems to me very strange, Monsieur Kennedy, after having
during the last reign defeated the best infantry of Spain, humbled
Austria, subdued Bavaria, crushed the enemy in Italy, and shown
ourselves to be the best soldiers in Europe; that we should now
suffer defeat after defeat, by an army containing men of half a
score of nationalities, though led by the greatest general that
England has ever produced."
"And, Baron, with English troops under him who have, for hundreds
of years, shown themselves invincible!"
"Yes, yes," the baron said, hastily. "We know all about Crecy,
Poitiers, and Agincourt; and how well they fought in Holland; but
I thought, Kennedy, that you were the enemy of the English, and
were here with your brave countrymen to fight against them."
"Not in my case, assuredly, Baron. I came over here because there
is no opening for Irish gentlemen at home, and because only by the
aid of France could our lawful king be placed on the throne. It is
true that a section of the English people, under Oliver Cromwell,
not only conquered us, but divided a great portion of our land
among themselves; and, although we were again defeated by a
usurping Dutch king, with the Dutch troops under his command, that
is no reason why I should feel any animosity to the people at
large, whose qualities I admire, and the majority of whom are, in
their hearts, attached to the cause of the Stuarts, and hate those
who are keeping the king from his throne. I own that I would
rather that it had fallen to my lot to fight for France against
Spaniards, Germans, and Italians, than against the English."
"Did you lose many friends at Oudenarde, Monsieur Kennedy?" Anne
asked.
"I lost my two greatest friends," Desmond said. "At least, I fear
that both are dead. They were the two who escaped with me from the
English prison. They, with Monsieur d'Eyncourt, another of
Berwick's aides-de-camp, started with me to carry orders to the
troops, who were all but surrounded by the enemy. We went by
different roads, to increase the chances of one of us getting
there.
"I succeeded with but this comparatively trifling wound," and he
pointed to his empty sleeve, "but none of the other three got
through, nor did their names appear when the lists were exchanged
of the prisoners captured. Therefore, I have no doubt that all
fell in the performance of their duty. We had been great friends,
ever since I came out, and their loss has greatly affected me."
"You are young, and will find fresh friends," the baron said,
briskly. "Do not let us dwell on the past. You have now to apply
all your energy to getting strong, and if you show as much vigour
in that, as in other matters, I hope that in a month's time you
will be well on the road towards complete recovery."
"I mean to try hard, Baron," Desmond said, with a smile. "If I
continue to gain strength as quickly as I have done during the
journey, I shall certainly insist, before long, on being
considered convalescent."
Day by day, indeed, his strength increased. At first he wandered
about in the park, accompanied by Philip and Anne, for the baron,
although somewhat recovered from his attack of gout, still walked
with difficulty. In a week, he again took to horse exercise, and
was ere long able to join in hunting and hawking parties.
The house was gay, for the baron, as soon as Desmond was able to take
his share in conversation, invited many of the neighbouring gentry to
the chateau, and introduced him to them as the man who had done so
much for his daughter and himself. Several entertainments were given,
at which the chateau was thrown open to all comers, in honour partly
of Desmond and partly of the approaching marriage of the baron's
daughter to Monsieur de la Vallee.
This had been arranged to take place in September. Before that
time arrived, Desmond had completely recovered his strength, and
being now fit for service, was anxious to join. But his friends
would not hear of his departure until after the marriage; and as
news came that Lille had been captured by the allies, and it was
certain that both armies would soon go into winter quarters, and
would fight no more that year, he allowed himself to be persuaded
to stay.
The siege had been one of the most terrible in history. The place
was nobly defended, and its conquest cost the allies dearly,
twelve thousand being killed and wounded, and over seven thousand
succumbing to diseases; while of the garrison, nearly seventeen
thousand strong, but four thousand five hundred remained alive at
the time it capitulated. Its fall caused general consternation
throughout France, for it opened the road to Paris, and during the
winter Louis made strenuous efforts to obtain peace; but the terms
demanded by the allies were so onerous that the negotiations were
broken off.
In spite of the general distress throughout the country, the
wedding was a gay one.
Desmond had written to the Duke of Berwick, who was now in Paris,
saying that he was fit for duty, and would report himself at the
end of the month; and, on the day before he was about to leave
Pointdexter, he received a reply from him.
It ran as follows:
Dear Monsieur Kennedy:
I am heartily glad to hear of your restoration to health. I
mentioned you to His Majesty today, who was pleased to speak very
highly of you.
The campaign is virtually at an end, for the present year. His
Majesty has informed me that various changes will be made in the
spring. Marshal de Villars is to replace the Duke of Vendome in
the command of the northern army. The latter has been unfortunate,
and misfortune on the part of a soldier is regarded as next door
to a crime. Certainly the defeat at Oudenarde was not his fault,
but had he taken my advice, Lille might have been saved. Doubtless
he was as much dissatisfied with me as I was with him, and perhaps
with reason; for, as you know, I am not accustomed to mince my
phrases. However, as His Majesty was pleased to say, it is evident
that having two generals acting together, each with an independent
command, is a mistake, and one that should not be again committed.
Therefore, next spring I am to take the command of an army in
Dauphiny, and to check the Austrians and Italians.
He said, "If you can spare him, Duke, I should be glad if you
would let me have this young Irishman for a time. I shall promote
him to the rank of captain, for the great service he rendered in
carrying, as you say, at grievous risk and with the loss of his
hand, the order to the troops at Diepenbeck to scatter during the
night, thus saving me at least ten thousand of my soldiers. I
shall also settle upon him a pension of fifty louis a year, for
the loss of his hand. I will send him to Spain, having had several
complaints from the Duke of Orleans" (who, as you know, is now in
command there) "of the incompetence of many of his staff".
I said that, although I had found you a most zealous and useful
officer, and had a warm regard for you, I would of course accede
to His Majesty's wishes in the matter. Enclosed in this letter is
the order for you to join the Duke of Orleans, and a private
letter from myself to the duke, giving a sketch of your services
and exploits, which will doubtless give you, at once, a place in
his favour.
I do not think that this war will last very much longer. France is
well-nigh ruined by the sacrifices she has made, and the drain
upon the allies must be almost as great. Therefore, I trust that
another campaign will bring it to an end. If not, you may be
assured that when the duke no longer requires your services--and
it is probable that, after a year's campaigning, he will be
heartily tired with the difficulties that he, as I did, will meet
with from the procrastination and general stupidity of the
Spanish--you will be free to return to me, and I shall be glad to
number you again among the members of my staff.
Desmond was sorry to leave the service of the duke, but consoled
himself with the hope that it would be only temporary; and the
prospect of a year's campaigning, in a new country, was by no
means displeasing to him. Therefore, after writing a suitable
letter to the duke, he took leave of the Baron Pointdexter, with
many thanks for his kindness, and, attended by Mike, started for
Spain.
"It's glad I am to be on the move again, Captain Kennedy," the
soldier said, as they rode away. "Sure, your honour, idleness is
not good for a man, especially when he has lashings of the best of
food and drink. When I came to buckle on my sword belt, this
morning, I found it would not meet within three inches, and the
coatee is so tight that I feel as if I was suffocated."
"You will soon work it down again, Mike. From what I hear of
Spain, there is no fear of your getting too much food there. Rough
work and small rations are, I hear, the rule."
"I am ready for a good spell then, your honour. I hardly know
myself now, for I am flabby and short of wind. Still, I am sorry
to leave the chateau, for I have had the best time I ever had, in
my life. Everyone was mighty kind, and seemed to think that I had
done great things in helping to rescue Miss Anne, whereas I did
nothing at all, except to follow you."