The command had been effected so suddenly that Desmond had not
been able to make up his mind to request the Duke of Orleans, to
whom he had been attached personally, rather than to the French
army in Spain, to allow him to return with him to France, in order
that he might again join the Duke of Berwick. Before, however, he
could decide whether to do so or not, the duke had taken his
departure.
Desmond spoke to the head of the staff, with whom he had been
constantly thrown in contact before he left Madrid, and whilst
explaining to him, on his return, the details of his report, asked
him for his advice.
"I should think you had better remain here, Captain Kennedy. There
is likely to be a great battle fought, in a few weeks; but if the
rumours we hear are correct, we may not be here very much longer.
Certainly I hope there will be no change until then, for if we win
the battle, and so relieve Spain from the risk of invasion for a
time, we can leave the country with a better grace, as Philip
would then only have to battle with his rebellious subjects in
Catalonia."
"I should certainly not wish to leave when a great battle is about
to be fought," Desmond said, "and will, therefore, continue to
serve under the Marshal de Bay until it is certain what is going
to be done."
In a short time a general movement of the troops, both Spanish and
French, began. Desmond and the other aides-de-camp were actively
employed in keeping up communication between the various columns,
which were to assemble near Badajos. Moving forward at the same
rate as the troops, the march was a pleasant one. It was April
now, the country looked bright, and the heat was not too great for
marching.
The marshal had gone on with the greater portion of his staff,
Desmond having been detailed to accompany the division from
Toledo. When within two days' march of Badajos, an orderly brought
a note from the marshal, requesting him to ride forward at once.
This he did without loss of time.
Marshal de Bay had taken up his quarters at Badajos, and on
arriving in the town, Desmond alighted at the governor's house.
"It was a stupid mistake of mine," the head of the staff said, "in
sending you on detached duty. I forgot at the moment, when I
nominated you, that your knowledge of the locality would be
invaluable to us. I only thought of it yesterday when, on the
marshal asking for some information on this matter, I pulled out
your report. He examined it and said, 'This is very complete and
valuable, Colonel. Whom is it made by?'
"'By an officer of your staff, sir, Captain Kennedy.'
"'Where is he?'
"'He is coming down with the Toledo column, sir.'
"'Please send for him at once,' he said. 'One of the others should
have been detached for that service. He is just the man we want
here.'
"Accordingly we sent for you, and here you are."
"This is an excellent report of yours, sir," the duke said, when
the colonel introduced Desmond to him. "As we came down, I noticed
that the roads had, in many cases, been thoroughly repaired at the
points mentioned in your report as being particularly bad, and the
bridges in many places greatly strengthened. Had it not been for
that, I do not know how I should have got my guns along.
"And now, sir, I want to ask you a few questions as to the road on
the other side. By your report, I see that you consider the road
through Campo Mayor to be the only one by which an army could
move, and that a large body of workmen must be employed to make
the other road fit for the passage of cannon."
He then asked a number of questions concerning this road.
"I see," he said, "you have marked several places, in your report,
where an enemy coming down that road could post themselves
strongly, and others which might be defended to advantage by us."
"Yes, sir; but of course, the suitability of those places would
depend largely upon the respective strength of the armies."
The marshal nodded approvingly.
"From all I hear from our agents in Lisbon," he said, "the enemy's
forces will be superior to our own in numbers, but the main
portion are Portuguese, who have shown very little fight,
hitherto. Their cavalry are almost entirely Portuguese. The only
really fighting portion of their forces are the English and Dutch,
who are most formidable foes; but against these we have our French
regiments, on whose bravery we can rely. Were it not that I think
the Portuguese will probably, as at the battle of Almanza, fly as
soon as the engagement begins, I should fall back and take up a
strongly defensive position. As it is, in spite of their superior
numbers, I think we can meet them on an equal field."
The conversation lasted over an hour, and then Desmond retired,
leaving Colonel Villeroy with the marshal. As he left the house,
an officer standing at the door seized his hand.
"My dear Kennedy," he said, "who would have thought that we should
have met again here!"
Desmond staggered back. He could not, for a moment, believe the
evidence of his eyes and ears.
"Why, O'Neil, I thought you were dead."
"I am worth a good many dead men, yet," the other one laughed.
"Let us go into this wine shop and crack a bottle. We can then
talk over matters quietly."
"And O'Sullivan, is he alive too?" Desmond asked.
"No, poor fellow. He has never been heard of since that tremendous
licking we got. There is not a shadow of hope."
Then many questions were asked, on both sides; and when these were
answered, Desmond said:
"Now about yourself, O'Neil. I thought I was the only one that got
through safe."
"So you were, for the other three of us were all on our backs."
"But we did not hear of you as among the prisoners, of whom a list
was furnished by Marlborough."
"No; the name of Patrick O'Neil did not appear. I was shot through
the body, and during the night I lay insensible, but in the
morning I opened my eyes and began to think. It seemed to me that
the name was not one that would be likely to please. In the first
place, because it was evident, by my age, that I was not one of
the Limerick men; in the next place, because of that little matter
of my escape from the jail in London. I had no fear of being shot.
I should be a prisoner of war, but I should not be likely to be
over kindly treated, and when they exchanged prisoners I should
certainly not be one of those sent back. You see, what with
Blenheim and Ramillies and Oudenarde, they had taken ten of our
officers for every one of their officers captured by us, so I
thought it best to pass as a French officer.
"It was easy to do so, as my French was good enough to pass
anywhere, and, you see, I had on a French staff uniform. Luckily
my horse had been shot at the same time as I was. He was lying
dead beside me, and within reach of my arm, so that I was able to
lean over and get my flask from one of the holsters. I had a
terrible thirst on me, and could have drunk a barrel.
"As I heard no firing, I knew that the fighting was over; and in
two or three hours a party came along with a stretcher, having a
doctor with them. When he saw that my eyes were open, and that I
was alive, he examined my wound and shook his head.
"'He is badly hit,' he said, 'but you may as well carry him in.'
"So they took me into Oudenarde, which had been turned into a big
hospital.
"'You are not to speak,' the doctor said to me, before they lifted
me up. 'You must keep yourself perfectly quiet.'
"When they got me into the hospital, they found a hole behind as
well as in front, which I heard one of the doctors say was a good
thing. They dressed the wounds and left me. I could see by their
faces, the next time they came, that they were surprised to see me
alive. One of them said to the other:
"'The bullet must have passed through him without touching any
vital point. He may do yet.'
"He bent down, and asked me in French what my name was, and I said
'Victor Dubosc, lieutenant;' so they stuck a card with my name
over my bed, and asked me no more questions. I lay there for six
weeks, and then I was well enough to get up and walk about.
"Three weeks later, I went down with some other convalescents to
Ostend, and there we were embarked, and taken to Portsmouth. Then
we were put in boats and rowed to Porchester, which is a place at
the end of a sort of lake behind Portsmouth. There was an old
castle there, with a mighty high wall, enclosing a lot of ground,
where there were huts--rows of them--all filled with our
prisoners. Some of the huts were a little better than others, and
these were for the use of officers. A regiment of soldiers was in
tents outside the walls, and a hundred men were always on guard
with loaded muskets.
"I said to myself, often and often, 'If Kennedy were here, he
would soon hit upon some plan for getting away;' but for the life
of me, I could not see how it was to be managed. It was a dull
time, I can tell you. The food was bad, and the cooking was worse.
Only a few officers were there, most of them being sent to some
place a long distance inland; but, as we were all wounded, I
suppose they thought that the loss of blood would keep us quiet.
"One of the officers, having a little money hidden about him,
bought a pack of cards from an English soldier, and we passed most
of our time playing; but it was poor work, for we had nothing to
play for. At last, I said to myself, 'Patrick O'Neil, there must
be an end of this or your brain will go altogether. It is not
worth much at the best of times, or it would have thought of some
plan for getting out of this place before now.'
"At last, I hit on a plan. It was a dangerous one, there was no
doubt of that; but as I was desperate, I did not think much of the
danger. The worst they could do was to shoot me, which I suppose
is what they would have done. My idea was to pounce suddenly on
one of the sentries, who kept guard all night; to gag him, and tie
him up, before he could give the alarm; and then to dress up in
his clothes, and take his matchlock.
"But the difficulty was, what was I to do next. The soldiers came
on duty for twelve hours, coming in at six in the morning and
going out at six in the evening.
"It was clear to me that it could only be done in the dark, and I
had to wait for nearly two months. It was the beginning of October
before it was dark enough, at six in the morning, for me to fall
in with the others and march out without being noticed.
"At last, the time came. I stole out of my hut an hour before the
change would be made, and crept along quietly, till I heard a
sentry marching up and down between our huts and those of the
soldiers. I had torn up a blanket into strips, and twisted them
together to make ropes; and with these in one hand, and a big
piece ready to shove into his mouth in the other, I stole up close
to him; and when he turned his back to me, I jumped upon him.
Luckily, instead of carrying the musket on his shoulder, he had it
under his arm, so that I was able to seize the lock with one hand,
and clutch him by the throat with the other. I gripped pretty
hard, and the man, in half a minute, slipped down to the ground.
"Before he could recover, I had stripped off his coatee and cloak;
then I tied his hands and feet, fastened the gag firmly in his
mouth, and dragged him in between two huts, where he would not be
found till morning. Then I took off my own coat and threw it over
him, for the night was chilly, and put on his cloak and shako, and
took his place.
"In half an hour I heard a tramp of men, and knew the relief had
entered. Then there was a bugle call, and two or three sentries
passed towards the entrance. I ran on, too. When they fell in, I
managed to get in the last section. Some sergeants ran down the
line counting the men, and reported that all were present. The
gates were opened, and we marched out.
"As soon as we got among the tents, we fell out, and I had no
difficulty whatever in getting off without being observed. Leaving
my musket and shako behind me, I went up a long lane which brought
me on to the main road, crossed that, climbed a hill beyond, and
came down into a wooded country.
"At the first cottage I came to, I stopped. A man and woman came
out on my knocking. They looked kindly and good tempered, and I
told them a pitiful story, about how I had been unjustly accused
of striking an officer, and had been sentenced to two hundred
lashes; and that I had managed, in the night, to cut a slit in the
back of the guard tent and escape.
"As I had been walking along, a sudden thought had struck me. At
Oudenarde, I was wearing the same boots I had worn when we were
captured together. When we took the money out, we each left, if
you remember, five pieces of gold in one of our boots, which I had
never thought of till that day; and, as I came along, I opened the
sole and took them out. It was a perfect godsend, as you may
guess.
"The man and his wife expressed such sympathy that I did not
hesitate to say: 'I want to get rid of my coatee, and of this
cloak. The coatee would be of no use to you, and you had best burn
it, but the cloak, if you alter it, might be useful; or, if you cut
it up, will make a cover for your bed. I will give you that and a
gold piece--it is a French one I got in the wars, but you can change
it easily enough, when you go into the town marketing--if you will
give me a suit of your clothes.'
"This the man readily consented to do, and the woman set before me
a large bowl of milk, and some bread, which I ate as soon as I had
put on a pair of breeches, smock, and broad hat. Now I felt
perfectly safe. They might send news all over the country of the
escape of a French officer, but as I had never spoken a word of
English, from the time that I was taken, no one would suspect a
countryman speaking English to be the man whom they were in search
of.
"After leaving the cottage, I travelled quietly to Rye. I thought
it best to go there, for it was likely that it would be difficult,
elsewhere, for an unknown man to get a passage to France, and it
struck me that the man who took us across before, would carry me
over the first time he was going with despatches. I found him
easily enough, and though I was not dressed quite in the same way
as I was when we called on him before, he recognized me at once.
"'Another job for me?' he asked.
"'Not a special one,' I said. 'I am going across again, but there
is no occasion for you to make a special trip, and indeed my
employer forgot to give me an order upon you. I should have gone
back, if I had remembered it, but I thought you would not mind
giving me a passage the next time you sailed across.'
"As the man remembered that we had made ourselves pleasant on
board, he agreed at once to take me, next time the boat should be
going. I laid out a pound in getting a coat more suitable for
travelling in France than the peasant's smock. Then I took a
lodging in a small inn.
"Three days later, a messenger came down with an order for the man
to take him across at once, and as the captain charged me nothing
for my passage, I had enough left to pay for my place in a
diligence, and on arriving in Paris duly reported myself, at the
barracks, as having returned.
"My first enquiry, of course, was about you and O'Sullivan. I
found that he had never been heard of, but that you had lost a
hand, and had been promoted to a captaincy; had been very ill, and
had gone to the south of France on sick leave.
"After I heard that, I remained for two or three months at the
depot, and then learned that the Duke of Berwick had just arrived
from Dauphiny. I at once went to see him. He told me he could not
put me on his staff again, as his numbers were complete, but would
give me a letter to the Duke of Orleans, asking him to employ me
in that capacity. When I got down here, I found that the duke had
left, and that the Marshal de Bay was in command.
"On reading Berwick's letter, he at once appointed me one of his
aides-de-camp. You were away, I found to my great disappointment,
and I was sent off into Catalonia, with orders for four battalions
to be sent at once to Badajos. I arrived here yesterday, in time
for the shindy."
"Fortunately, O'Neil, I do not think there is much fear of another
Oudenarde. There is no royal duke here, to interfere with our
general; and the Portuguese are not to be compared with the
Hanoverians, and Dutch, and the other allies that fought against
us there."
"I hear, from the others, that you have been occupied in
reconnoitring the country."
"Yes, and I was captured, but was fortunately able to give them
the slip."
Desmond did not care to tell even his friend that his escape was
due to the kindness of the British general.
The next morning, Desmond was sent off to hurry up a body of
troops which was still some seven or eight marches away. The news
had come that the allied army was in motion, and would probably
concentrate near Portalegre. This seemed to show that they
intended to invade Spain by Badajos, and the valley of the
Guadiana; for, had their aim been to advance up the valley of the
Tagus, to Madrid, they would have marched towards Montalvao, and
so on by Alcantara to Almarez.
After two days' hard riding he met the column, which, on receiving
the order from the marshal to hasten forward with all speed,
performed double marches until they arrived at Badajos. Desmond
found that the allies had not wasted their time, and that their
advance guard was already at Campo Mayor. The Spanish army were
posted on the Caya river, a stream that flowed down from the
sierra, and fell into the Guadiana at Badajos.
Their position was a defensive one. The army of the allies was
known to be some twenty-two thousand strong, of whom some five
thousand were cavalry. The Spanish had about the same strength of
cavalry, but were inferior in infantry. The number of guns also
was about equal, both sides having about forty cannon.
On the 7th of May, the two armies faced each other on opposite
sides of the river Caya. As neither party made any movement of
advance, Marshal de Bay determined to force on an engagement, and
sent orders to the cavalry to cross the river, and to place
themselves on the road between the enemy and Campo Mayor.
The allies suffered, as the French had done at Oudenarde, by
conflicting counsels. The Earl of Galway was in command of the
British, and of two or three Dutch regiments. The Marquis de
Frontiera was in command of the Portuguese, who formed by far the
greater portion of the force, and, as soon as the movement was
seen on the other side of the river, he determined to cross and
attack the Spaniards.
The Earl of Galway was strongly of opinion that it would not be
wise to take the offensive, but that the army should remain in its
present position, until the intentions of the enemy were clearly
ascertained. Their cavalry, he urged, could do little by
themselves, and it was evident that the infantry could not be
attacked while they remained under the shelter of the guns of the
fortress. The Marquis de Frontiera, however, and the other
Portuguese generals, were unanimous in insisting that battle
should be given at once, and the former gave orders for the
Portuguese cavalry, with a body of foot and five field pieces, to
march immediately.
Seeing that, if unsupported, this force must meet with disaster,
the Earl of Galway reluctantly ordered the troops under his
command to advance. The river was fordable, and they met with no
opposition, until they crossed it and formed up in order of
battle. The Portuguese horse were now divided on each wing, the
British were in the centre; a portion of the Portuguese infantry
were on either flank, the rest were in the rear.
"Captain Kennedy, you will carry my orders at once, to our
cavalry, to charge the Portuguese horse on the right wing."
Desmond saluted, and was about to ride off, when he paused a
moment and asked:
"May I charge with Brigadier Crofton's dragoons, sir?"
The marshal nodded, and Desmond galloped off. Crofton was in
command of the first line of cavalry. His own regiment, which was
composed partly of Irishmen and partly of Spaniards, was in the
centre of the line.
After delivering his orders to the general commanding the cavalry,
Desmond rode on to Crofton.
"The cavalry are going to charge, sir," he said, "and I have
permission to ride with you."
Crofton waited until the order from the general arrived, and then,
drawing his sword, shouted, "The first brigade will charge," and,
riding forward, led the way against the Portuguese horse, whose
cannon had already opened fire. The Portuguese fell into disorder
as soon as they saw the long line of horsemen charging down on
them like a torrent, and when it neared them broke and fled. They
were soon overtaken, great numbers were cut down, and the
remainder galloped off, a panic-stricken mob, and did not draw
rein until they reached Campo Mayor.
The Spaniards at once turned the five cannon the fugitives had
left behind them upon the allied infantry, and then, after a few
rounds had been fired, the cavalry charged the British infantry.
But they had now foes of a different metal to reckon with, and
although, three times, the horsemen reformed their ranks and
hurled themselves against the infantry, they were each time
repulsed with heavy loss.
Then, swerving round, they fell on the Portuguese infantry in the
second line, whom they dispersed as easily as they had defeated
the cavalry.
The Earl of Galway now brought up the brigade of Brigadier General
Pierce, which consisted of the two British regiments of Barrimore
and Stanwix, and a Spanish regiment which had been recently raised
and named after himself. These charged the enemy with great
bravery, drove back their infantry for some distance, recovered
the five guns the cavalry had lost, and, still pressing forward,
fought their way deep into the centre of the Spanish ranks.
Had they been supported by the Portuguese infantry, on their
flank, the battle might still have been won. But the latter, in
spite of the persuasions and orders of their officers, refused to
advance, and, turning their backs, made off in confusion, although
not yet attacked by the enemy. Orders were then sent to the
Portuguese horse on the left to charge to the assistance of
Pierce's brigade. But instead of doing this, they also galloped
off the field, and after defending themselves with desperate
valour for some time, the little brigade, being unsupported, and
being surrounded by the whole strength of the Spaniards, was
forced to surrender.
In the meantime the Earl of Galway, seeing that the battle was
lost, through the cowardice of the Portuguese, was preparing to
withdraw his men, and had only despatched Pierce's brigade to
check the advance of the enemy while he did so. Seeing that these,
by their ardour, were irretrievably cut off, he gave the order to
the Marquis Montandre to draw off the British infantry, who alone
remained firm, and against whom the whole of the French and
Spanish forces now advanced; while he himself with a small body of
cavalry, charged into the midst of the enemy in hopes of reaching
Pierce's brigade and drawing it off.
Although weakened by the loss of that brigade, attacked on both
flanks as well as in front, and frequently charged by the Spanish
horse, among which Crofton's dragoons were conspicuous for their
bravery, the retreating British maintained admirable order.
Occasionally, when severely pressed, they charged the enemy and
beat them back; till they were able to withdraw from the field
with comparatively trifling loss, thus saving the flying
Portuguese from annihilation. As at Almanza, the whole of the
fighting, and almost all the loss, fell upon the English, although
a considerable number of the Portuguese were cut down in their
flight, before the Spanish cavalry returned to join in the attack
on the retiring English. The allies had, altogether, seventeen
hundred men killed or wounded, and two thousand three hundred
taken prisoners, of whom fifteen hundred were Pierce's brigade;
and eight hundred Portuguese, who were cut off by the cavalry.
Among the prisoners were the Earl of Barrimore, all the officers
of Pierce's brigade, Lord Pawlet, one of the earl's aides-de-camp,
two of his pages, and his master of horse.
After the battle was over, and Desmond had rejoined the marshal,
he was sent to ride over the field, and ascertain who had fallen
and what prisoners had been taken. Night was already coming on,
and, after fulfilling his mission as far as was possible in the
confusion, he came upon two Spanish soldiers, with a prisoner.
"Whom have you there?" he asked, in Spanish.
"I don't know, sir. We found him lying under his horse, which, in
its fall, had so pinned down his leg that he could not escape.
Several others had fallen round him, and it was only when we heard
a cry for help that we turned the dead horse over, and found him
under it, and then got him out."
Standing close, there was light enough for Desmond to distinguish
the prisoner's features. He gave a slight start of surprise, then
he said:
"You have done well, my men. Here is a doubloon, to get some drink
with your comrades when you get into the town. I will look after
the prisoner."
The men saluted and went off, well pleased to have got rid of the
trouble of marching their prisoner into the town. Mike, rather
surprised, moved up to take charge of the captive.
"My lord," Desmond said, "I will now endeavour to repay the
kindness you showed me.
"Do you see that little hut, Mike, just at the edge of those
trees? You must hide the earl there. Our cavalry are still all
over the country, hunting down fugitives."
The earl, who was scarcely able to walk, his leg having been
injured by the weight of the horse upon it, murmured his thanks,
but did not speak again until they had entered the shed, when
Desmond said:
"Now, General, I will first cut down your riding boot, to ease
your leg. Then, if you will lie down in that corner, we will pile
this firewood over you. It will not be safe for you to attempt to
go forward for two or three hours yet. I have a report to make to
Marshal de Bay. When I have handed it in, I will return at once.
"Mike, do you stay near the hut, and if any searching party should
come along, which is scarcely likely, for they have all gone
farther afield, you can say there is no need to search the hut, as
you, with an officer, have already examined it."
In a few minutes, the earl was completely hidden. Desmond then
rode into Badajos, and delivered his report to the marshal. He
then went to the stables, took out his spare horse, and, leading
it, rode out to the hut again.
"Has anyone been here?" he asked Mike.
"Not a soul, sir."
"Take the horses into the wood, then, and stay with them for the
present. It will not be safe for the earl to move for a couple of
hours.
"Now, General," he went on, as he removed the firewood, "I fear
that you have been very uncomfortable."
"I can hardly say that I have been comfortable, sir, but that is
of no consequence. The pain in my leg has abated, since you cut
the boot open.
"And now, how can I express my gratitude to you, for thus
sheltering me?"
"It is but a fair return of services, sir. You gave me my liberty,
and I am doing my best to restore yours to you."
"It is all very well to say that, Captain Kennedy. I am the
general in command of the British forces in Portugal, and had I
chosen to openly release you, none could have questioned me. It
was only because some magnified report of the affair might have
reached the ears of the Portuguese Government, and given rise to
rumours hostile to me, that I thought it best to let it appear to
be an accidental escape. You see, I am by no means popular with
the Portuguese. In the first place, I am a Protestant; and in the
next place, I am constantly bringing pressure to bear upon them,
as to the supply of provisions, the making of roads, the proper
feeding and arming of their own troops, and other matters of the
same kind; and they would be only too glad to have some cause of
complaint against me.
"But your case is altogether different, for you are risking even
your life in thus aiding me to escape."
"That may be, General, but it was nevertheless my duty, as a
matter of conscience, to endeavour to return the kindness that you
showed me; and as, at present, your army will hardly be in a state
to take the field against us for a long time, I do not feel that I
am seriously injuring our cause."
"Well, sir, I shall be your debtor for life.
"Do you intend to remain always an exile, Captain Kennedy?" the
Earl of Galway went on. "It seems to me little short of madness
that so many gallant gentlemen should cut themselves altogether
adrift from their native country, and pass their lives fighting as
mercenaries. I do not use the word offensively, but only in its
proper meaning, of foreigners serving in the army of a nation not
their own. Nor do I mean to insult Irish gentlemen, by even
hinting that they serve simply for pay. They fight for France
mainly in the hope that France will some day aid in setting James
Stuart on the British throne; a forlorn hope, for although Louis
may encourage the hopes of the Stuarts and their followers, by
patronizing their cause, which it suits him to do because it gives
him the means of striking at England, by effecting a landing in
Scotland or Ireland; it is yet a matter upon which he must be
indifferent, save in his own interest, and in the advantage it
gives him of keeping in his service some dozen or so splendid
regiments, on whose valour he can always rely."
"That is true, sir," Desmond replied; "and I own I have no great
hope that, by the means of French assistance, the Stuarts will
regain their throne. But what could I do if I were to return to
Ireland? Beyond the fact that my name is Kennedy, I am in absolute
ignorance as to what branch of that family I belong to, and have
practically not a friend in the country. Were I to land in
Ireland, I have no means of earning my living, and should
doubtless be denounced as one who had served in the Irish Brigade.
I own that I should be glad to return there, for a time, in order
to make enquiries as to my family. I was but sixteen when I left,
and was kept, as it seems to me, purposely, in total ignorance on
the subject. It may be that I was the son of a brave officer of
that name, who certainly came over to France soon after I was
born, and fell fighting some years before I came out; but I have
no proof that it was so, and would give a great deal to be able to
ascertain it.
"In Ireland they think a great deal of genealogy, and I am often
questioned, by Irishmen of old descent, as to my family; and find
it extremely awkward to be obliged to own that I know nothing of
it, with any certainty. I have no desire to pass my life in
battles and sieges, and, if I survive the risks and perils, to
settle down as a Frenchman with an Irish name."
"That I can well understand," the earl said. "'Tis a life that no
man could desire, for it would certainly be a wasted one. I can
assure you that I think the chance of James Stuart, or his
descendants, gaining the throne of England is remote in the
extreme. When William of Orange came over, there was no standing
army, and as James the Second had rendered himself extremely
unpopular by his Catholic leanings, he became possessed of England
without opposition, and of Ireland by means of his Dutch troops.
The matter is entirely changed, now. England has a strong army,
against which a gathering, however strong, of undisciplined men
could have but little chance. I conceive it possible that a
Catholic Stuart might regain the throne of Ireland, if backed by a
French army, and if the people were supplied with French arms and
money. But that he would retain the throne, after the French were
withdrawn, I regard as next to impossible."
"I cannot but think the same, sir. However, as I see no chance of
my being able to go to Ireland, even to push my enquiries as to my
family, there is nothing for it but to remain a soldier of
France."
"In that matter, I might assist you, Captain Kennedy. I have no
doubt that my influence, and that of my friends in England, would
without difficulty suffice to gain permission for you to visit
Ireland on private business, on my undertaking that you have no
political object whatever in desiring to do so, and that you
engage yourself to enter into no plots or schemes for a rising.
Furthermore, I think I can promise that, if you succeed in your
researches, and find that you have relations and friends there, I
could, if you desire it, obtain a revocation of any pains and
penalties you may have incurred, and a restoration of all your
rights as an Irishman. That is certainly the least I can do, after
the vital service that you have rendered me--a service that, in
itself, shows you do not share in the bitter enmity so many of
your countrymen, unfortunately, feel against England."
"I have no such enmity, assuredly," Desmond said. "The choice of
coming out here, to enter the service of France, was not of my own
making; but was made, for some reason which I have never been able
to understand, by the gentleman who had borne the expenses of my
bringing up, but who was himself a strong supporter of the English
rule, and therefore would have been expected to place every
obstacle in the way of my entering the Irish Brigade."