Chapter 2: For James Or William.
"My dear Walter," his father exclaimed as he embraced his son, as hescrambled on shore, "you have behaved like a hero, indeed, but yououghtn't to have done it.
"And you too, Larry. You both deserve a sound thrashing for the frightyou have given us."
"They may have frightened you, sir," the officer said; "but assuredly, Iowe my life to these brave lads. I have scarcely thanked them yet, forindeed, until I felt my foot on the rock, I had but small hopes ofreaching shore safely in that cock boat of theirs. After feeling thatgreat ship so helpless against the waves, it seemed impossible that amere eggshell could float over them.
"My name, sir, is Colonel L'Estrange, at your service."
"My name is Davenant, colonel, and I am truly glad that my son hasrescued you; but the sooner you are up at my place, the better, sir. Thisis no weather for standing talking in shirtsleeves."
They now made their way along the rock back to the shore, and thenhurried to the village. There they learned that six men had succeeded ingetting to shore along the rope, before the vessel broke up.
Telling Larry he had best have a glass of hot spirits, and then turn intobed at once, and that he was to come up to the house the first thing inthe morning, Mr. Davenant, with the priest, Colonel L'Estrange, andWalter made his way up to the house, to which the men who had reached theshore had been already taken.
The party were met at the door by Mrs. Davenant, who had been extremelyanxious, for Godfrey had been sent home by his father as soon as thewreck went to pieces, and had brought the news of Walter's doings, up tothat time.
"He is quite safe, Katherine," Mr. Davenant said, "but you mustn't stop,either to scold him or praise him, at present.
"Hurry off, Walter, and get between the blankets. I will bring you upsome hot spiced wine directly.
"Katherine, this is Colonel L'Estrange, whom Walter has brought ashore inhis boat. You will excuse him, at present, for he has been for hoursexposed to the storm, and must be half frozen as well as half drowned.
"Now, colonel, if you will come along with me, you will find a bed withhot blankets ready, and, I doubt not, a blazing fire.
"Ah, here is the spiced wine. Take a draught of that before you goupstairs. You can have another, after you are in bed."
Three more survivors from the wreck were presently brought up. They hadbeen washed ashore on planks, as indeed had many others, but the rest hadall been beaten to death against the rocks by the breakers.
Walter slept late the next morning, and, when he came downstairs, foundthat the others had already finished breakfast. When he had eaten hismeal, and listened to the gentle scolding which his mother gave him forrisking his life, he joined his father, who was, with Colonel L'Estrange,pacing backwards and forwards on the terrace in front of the house. Thefirst fury of the storm was over, but it still blew strongly, and a veryheavy sea was running.
"Ah, my young friend," Colonel L'Estrange said, advancing, "I am glad tosee you, and to be able to thank you more warmly than I was able to dolast night, when the very words seemed frozen on my lips, for havingsaved my life. It was a gallant deed, and one which your father may wellbe proud of. It showed not only bravery of the highest kind, but coolnessand judgment, which are virtues even more rare. I predict a brilliantfuture for you, and if, in any way, my aid may be of use to you, believeme, it will be at your service."
"It was well you were a good swimmer, sir," Walter said, "for we couldnot have helped you, if you had not been able to help yourself, for thesea was covered with pieces of wreck, and as the boat was only coveredwith canvas, the slightest touch from one of the jagged ends would havemade a hole in it. I am very much obliged to you for your kind offer ofassistance; but, at present, we have not made up our minds what I am tobe.
"Have we, father?"
"No, indeed, Walter. You have told me that you would like, at any ratefor a time, to see something of the world before settling down here forlife; but it is no easy matter to say what is best for you to do. Irelandoffers but little field for anyone's ambition. Since King James came tothe throne, and especially since Tyrconnell became governor, things havebeen a little more favourable for us; and I have hopes, yet, that justicewill be done to the Catholic population of this unhappy country.
"Is it not monstrous, Colonel L'Estrange, that the very men who had ahand in the rebellion against King Charles the First, should still be inpossession, during the reign of his son, of the lands which were takenfrom my father because he was loyal to his king? And so it is all overIreland. The descendants of Cromwell's men lord it in the homes of thosewho were faithful to King Charles."
"It certainly seems so, sir," Colonel L'Estrange said; "but I am nopolitician. I am simply a soldier, and obey orders; but I own that itdoes seem a cruel injustice, that the great portion of the lands of thiscountry should be held by the descendants of Cromwell's soldiers, whilethe lawful owners, whose only fault was that they were loyal to theirking, should still be dispossessed of it."
"But I think better times are coming," Mr. Davenant said. "There can beno doubt of the king's leaning towards our religion. He has beenrestrained from carrying his goodwill towards us into effect, by hisprivy councillors and by the English party here, whose interest it is toprevent any change being made, and who constantly misrepresent thefeelings of this country. From the days when Strongbow first landed, thisisland has been the prey of adventurers, whose only object has been towrest the land from the native population."
"But you are yourself a descendant of one of the early English settlers,Mr. Davenant."
"That is true enough," Mr. Davenant said smiling, "and, no doubt, he wasas bad as the rest of them; but, you see, we have held the land for somecenturies now, and, like the other descendants of Strongbow's men, havecome to look at matters from the Irish point of view, rather than theEnglish. However, I hope for better times."
"You haven't heard the news, then, about the Prince of Orange?"
"No; what is the news?" Mr. Davenant asked. "There have been rumours, foryears, that he intended to make a bid for the English throne; but I haveheard nothing else."
"There was a report, before I left London, that he has already sailedfrom Holland," Colonel L'Estrange replied; "and, indeed, I have no doubtthe rumour is well founded."
"But he will never succeed," Mr. Davenant said eagerly. "He will be putdown as easily as Monmouth was."
"I do not know," Colonel L'Estrange said gravely. "The Protestant feelingin England is very strong. Monmouth was vain and empty headed, and hewrecked his own cause. The Dutchman is a different sort of manaltogether, and one thing is certain: if King James can make a mess ofmatters, he is sure to do so. The Stuarts have always been feeble andindecisive, and James is the most feeble and indecisive of them. IfWilliam succeeds in effecting a landing, I think his chance of success isa good one."
"He may reign in England," Mr. Davenant broke in passionately, "but hewill not reign in Ireland.
"But forgive me," he broke off. "I forgot, for a moment, that you are anEnglishman, and my guest."
"You need not apologize, Mr. Davenant. As I said, I am a soldier and nopolitician. My ancestors were royalists, and I have no great love for theDutch stadtholder, who will be supported in England by the class who roseagainst King Charles. At the same time, it is difficult to feel muchenthusiasm for the Stuarts. The first was a pedant. The second threw awayhis chances, over and over again, by his duplicity and want of faith. Thethird was utterly selfish and unprincipled. The fourth is a gloomy bigot.Charles was, and James is, a pensioner of France. How can men be ready tosacrifice everything for such a race as this?"
"That is not the way in which we look at it in Ireland," Mr. Davenantsaid. "The wars here are waged under various pretences. Someone is goadedinto rebellion, false charges are preferred wholesale, or there is areligious pretext; but we all know what is at the bottom of them all,simply the greed of English adventurers for Irish land; and, not contentwith hav
ing dispossessed the ancient owners of three-fourths of thecultivated land of the country, they want the remainder, and under thepretence that we, the descendants of the early settlers, are in sympathywith our Irish neighbours, they have marked us out for destruction, andalready a great portion of our estates is in the hands of Cromwell's men.So gross have been the abuses, that the commission, which the kingappointed to inquire into the seizure of our estates, only ventured tosit one day, for the proofs brought forward were so overwhelmingly strongthat it was seen at once that, did the inquiry continue, it would be mademanifest to all the world that justice could be satisfied by nothing lessthan a clear sweep of all those men who have seized our estates.
"If Ireland rises in favour of King James, it will not be for any lovefor the Stuarts; but it will be to recover the land which has beenillegally wrested from us, and which, if Dutch William and his Whigadherents gain the upper hand, will be taken from us forever. Thereligious element will, of course, count for much. Already we havesuffered persecution for our religion; and, if the Whigs could have theirway, they would stamp it out utterly, with fire and sword. Things havelooked better, during the last five or six years, than they have donesince Cromwell first put foot in Ireland. We have begun to hope forjustice. Tyrconnell has stood up for us, and, with the goodwill of James,has gained many concessions. We have now what we never had before, anIrish army. The land thieves have been fairly alarmed, for they have seenthat the long delayed justice will be done us at last. Many have soldback their lands to the original owners, and have left the country.Others are only holding out for better terms. Another ten years ofJames's reign, and things would have righted themselves; but, if theDutchman ascends the throne of England, there is no hope for Ireland,save in the sword."
"Well, we must hope it will not come to that," Colonel L'Estrange said."I am ready to fight the battles of England on the Continent, but civilwar, with all its horrors, sickens me; and civil war here is not like ourcivil war in England. There were no race animosities there, no memory ofcruel wrongs on one side or the other. Men fought for a principle, butthere were no atrocities committed, on either side, like those which havedevastated Germany. The peasant ploughed the land, and the trader keptopen his shop unmolested. It is true that, towards the end, there wereconfiscations of the property of those who still continued the strife,and a few executions of individuals; but, taking it as a whole, no warhas ever caused so little suffering, to the people at large, as did thecivil war in England; but assuredly, a war in Ireland now, like thosewhich have gone before, would be marked by the foulest atrocities,massacres, and destruction on both sides."
"Yes," Mr. Davenant said, "I must own that, for downright brutal andbloody ferocity, the wars in Ireland rival those of the Huns."
Walter had listened in silence to this conversation. His father nowturned to him.
"Have you heard whether Larry has recovered from his adventure ofyesterday as well as you have?"
"No, father, I have not heard anything about it. I came out here directlyI finished my breakfast. How are the people who were brought up here?"
"They are going on well, Walter, but they were all so bruised, as theywere being drawn up through the surf, that it will be some days beforeany of them can leave their beds.
"How many had you on board, colonel?"
"I did not see the list of passengers, but there were twelve or fourteenaft, and, from what I saw, I should think as many more forward. Therewere twenty-three men in the crew. I suppose, altogether, there were somefifty on board."
"Are you going to make a long stay in Ireland?"
"No; I shall only remain here a week or two. I am the bearer of someletters from the king to Tyrconnell; and that reminds me that I must bemaking my way on to Dublin."
"I will ride in with you," Mr. Davenant said. "I must tell my friendsthis news that you bring. It seems to me to be most serious. I will havea horse round for you here, in half an hour, if that will suit you."
"Perfectly," Colonel L'Estrange replied. "That will just give me time towalk round to the village, to see the lad you call Larry, for I could notgo without thanking him for the share he had in preserving my life.
"Perhaps you will go down with me, Walter, and show me his house?"
When they reached the shore, they found the whole population of thevillage engaged in dragging up the spars, planks, and pieces of timberwith which the rocks were strewn.
"There is Larry," Walter said. "It is evident that there's nothing thematter with him."
Larry was, indeed, just coming up, dragging a piece of timber behind him;while, in his left hand, he held a large bundle of fragments of wood, ofdifferent sizes, which, as well as the timber, he was taking home forfiring.
"Larry, come here. The English gentleman wants to speak to you."
The boy dropped his wood, and came up.
"My lad," Colonel L'Estrange said, "I am greatly indebted to you for yourwork of last night. Take this," and he placed a purse of ten guineas inLarry's hand.
"And remember that I am still greatly your debtor, and that if, at anyfuture time, you should be in a position in which my aid may be useful,you have only to let me know, and I will stand your friend."
The sum appeared to Larry to be enormous.
"Long life to yer honour, and it's proud I am to have been of service tosuch a grand gentleman. It's thankful I am for your kindness, and if everyou want a boy to do a job for you, it's myself that will be proud to doit. As to yesterday, I just came because the young squire tould me to,and thankful I am that he got back safe to shore, for, if we had beendrowned, I don't know whatever I should have said to the squire."
Two days after the shipwreck, Walter and John Whitefoot met at the placewhich they had agreed on, when they last saw each other four days before.
"I heard of your brave deed on the night of the storm, Walter. Everyoneis talking of it; and even my grandfather, who has seldom a good word forany of you at the Castle, said that it was a noble deed. It was as muchas I could do not to say, 'Yes, he is a friend of mine;' for I felt proudof you, I can tell you."
"It is all nonsense, John. I have often been out in a curragh in badweather, though never in quite such a storm as that; but, once launched,she rode lightly enough, and scarce shipped a spoonful of water."
"I should like to have been there," John said; "but I should have been nouse. My people have always been against my going down to the sea, deemingit a pure waste of time, except that they let me go down to swim. I cando that well, you know; but they have always forbidden my going out inboats. Now, you see, it is proved that it is not a waste of time, for youhave been able to save many lives. The thought must make you very happy."
"Well, I don't know that it does, particularly," Walter said carelessly."Of course, I was glad at the time, but I have not thought much about itone way or the other, since. You see, the news that has come has driveneverything else out of our heads."
"Is it true, then, the report that we heard yesterday, that William ofOrange has set out for England?"
"Yes, it is true enough; and I am afraid, by what I hear, that it islikely to cause all sorts of troubles."
"I suppose," John said gravely; "and of course, in this matter my peoplethink differently from yours. You know we agreed that we would never talkon these subjects, but I am afraid the time is coming when there will benothing else to be talked of."
"I am afraid so, too, John. My father thinks that there will be civil waragain."
"Of course my grandfather is delighted," John said quietly. "He has beengreatly disturbed in his mind, for some months, owing to the leanings ofKing James towards the Irish, which seem to point to his having to giveup no small portion of the lands."
"We thought so too, John; and although it is your father who would lose,and mine who would gain, I don't think that even you can deny that itwould be reasonable. Your grandfather got the land from mine because hefought for Cromwell against the king, and Cromwell got the best of it.Well, it s
eems only reasonable that, when the king again came to thethrone, those who fought for him should get their own again."
"It does seem so, Walter, I must own; and I am sure I should not havecared, for myself, if the land was given back again to your fathertomorrow. Then I suppose we should go back to England; and, as I know mygrandfather has done well, and has laid by a good deal of money, theycould take a farm there; and there would be more chance of their lettingme enter upon some handicraft. I would rather that, by a great deal, thanfarming. All these books you have lent me, Walter, have shown me whatgreat and noble deeds there are to be done in the world--I don't mean infighting, you know, but in other ways. And they make the life here,toiling on the farm from sunrise to sunset, with no object save that oflaying by every year more money, seem terribly empty and worthless.
"By the way, my grandfather was, yesterday evening, rating my fatherbecause, instead of always keeping me hard at work, he allowed me once ortwice a week to be away for hours wasting my time--which means, though hedidn't know it, going about with you. My father said stoutly that he didnot think the time was altogether wasted, for that, in the last twoyears, I had made a notable advance in learning, and he was satisfiedthat I had benefited much by these intervals of recreation. Thereupon mygrandfather grumbled that I was too fond of reading, and that I wasfilling my mind with all sorts of nonsense, whereas true wisdom was to befound in one book only.
"My father said that was true of religious wisdom, but that, for theadvancement of the world, it was needed that men should learn otherthings. Of course, my grandfather had three or four texts ready at hand;but my father had him by saying: 'You see, father, all the commandsissued to the Jews are not strictly applicable to us--for example, theywere ordered not to use horses; and I do not remember that Cromwell feltthat he was doing wrong, when he raised his ironsides.' That was a poser,and so the matter dropped."
Ten days later, when the boys met, John said:
"This is the last time we shall meet for some time, Walter, for I amgoing up to Derry to stay with a cousin of my father, who is settledthere and exercises the trade of a currier. I said, some months ago, thatI should like to learn a trade, but everyone was against it, then. Theyseemed to think that, as I should some day have the land, it was flyingin the face of Providence to think of anything else. But I suppose thefact that everything is so unsettled now, and that there is no sayingwhat may come of these events in England, may have made them thinkdifferently.
"At any rate, my father said to me yesterday: 'We have been talking overwhat you said, about wishing to learn a trade. If all goes on well, thereis no occasion for you to learn any business save that of farming; butnone can say what the Lord may not have in store for us, or what troublesmay come upon us. In any case, it will do you no harm to see a little ofthe world outside our farm; and, therefore, your grandfather and I havesettled that you shall go for a few months to my cousin, who, as youknow, is a currier in Derry. He has often written, asking you to go andstay with him, seeing that he has no children of his own. Learn what youcan of his business; and if it should be that you find it more to yourliking than farming, I should not be one to hold you back from followingthe bent of your inclinations.
"'But this is between ourselves. My father's ideas on these subjects youknow, and it would cause much trouble, did he think that you had any ideaof not following in the path in which he and I have trod. But to me itseems better that each should go on the path towards which his mind isturned--that is, when he has made quite sure, after long reflection andprayer, that it is no idle whim but a settled earnest desire. If, then,after your visit to your uncle, you feel that you are truly called tofollow a life other than that you would lead here, I shall not opposeyou. The Lord has blessed our labours. The land is fertile, and I canwell provide the moneys that will be needful to start you, either inbusiness with my cousin, or in such way as may appear best.'
"I thanked him gravely, but indeed, Walter, I had difficulty inrestraining myself from shouting with joy, for a life like that of myfather and grandfather here would be very grievous to me. I have nodesire to gain greater wealth than we have, but I long for a higher lifethan this."
"I don't know, John," Walter said doubtfully. "Unless, as you say, thesetroubles make a difference, you will be a large landowner some day; andthese bitternesses will die out in time, and you will take a verydifferent position from that which your grandfather holds. Of course, weregard him as a usurper, but you know, in the third generation thegrandson of a usurper becomes a legitimate monarch. My ancestors usurpedthe land from the native Irish by the sword, just as your grandfather didfrom us; but we came, in time, to be regarded as the natural lords of thesoil, and so will you. But to be a currier! That strikes me as atremendous come down!"
"I care nothing about coming up or coming down," John said simply. "Ilong only for an honest mode of life, in which, instead of dwellingsolitary, and seeing no one from year to year save at our Sabbathmeetings, I may mix with others and take part in a more active and busylife. In itself, I do not suppose that the trade of a currier is a verypleasant one; but that matters little if, when work is done, one hasleisure for some sort of communication with others, and for improvingone's mind. It will be to me something like what going to court in Londonwould be to you, Walter. I am most grieved about my mother. She will missme sorely.
"She said to me last night, 'I fear somewhat, John, that the course Ihave taken with you has greatly unfitted you for settling down here, aswe have done before you; but although I shall miss you sadly, I do notblame myself for what I have done. I think myself, my son, that there arehigher lives than that spent in tilling the soil from boyhood to old age.It is true the soil must be tilled. There must be ever hewers of wood anddrawers of water; but God has appointed for each his place, and I think,my son, that you have that within you which would render the life withwhich your father and grandfather have been well contented an irksome onefor you.
"'I have no fear that we shall be always separated. Your grandfather isan old man, and when the Lord pleases to take him, your father and I willbe free to do as we choose, and can, if we like, dispose of this land andquit this troubled country, and settle in England or elsewhere, nearwhere you may be. It is true that we shall get little for the land; for,broad as are its acres, who will give much for a doubtful title? Butthere is ample laid by for our old age, and I see not the sense oflabouring incessantly, as does your grandfather, merely to lay up storeswhich you will never enjoy. Did I see any signs of a decrease in thebitter animosity which parties feel towards each other here, I mightthink differently; but there is no prospect of peace and goodwillreturning in your time, and therefore, no object in your father and Itoiling on for the rest of our lives, when the return of our labour willbe of little worth to you. Such being so, I do not regret that yourthoughts turn to the world of which you have read in books. The world isbut a secondary consideration to us, 'tis true, but I can see no specialgoodness in a life of dull monotony.'"
"I wonder where your mother got hold of her ideas, John. She is sodifferent from most of your people."
"She is indeed," John agreed. "It was from her mother that she receivedher teaching. I know she was not happy with her husband, who was asgloomy and fanatical as is my grandfather, and she ever looked back tothe happy days of her girlhood in England. I think she did for my motherjust what my mother has done for me, only the difference is that shenever had sufficient influence with her husband to enable her to carryout her views for her daughter, while my mother--"
"Has managed to have her own way," Walter laughed.
"I suppose so, and that in spite of my grandfather. Certainly I oweeverything to her, for I am sure, if it hadn't been for her, my fatherwould never have ventured to oppose the old man, even so far as to let meknow you. It makes one sad to think, Walter, that religion shouldsometimes make those who think most of it tyrants in their families. Mygrandfather is terribly earnest in his religion. There is no pretence ormistake about it; b
ut, for all that, or rather because of it, he would,if he could, allow no one else to have a will or opinion of his own."
"I don't think it's the religion, John, but the manner of the religion.My mother and grandmother are both as religious as anyone could be; but Idon't think I ever heard either of them say a hard word of a soul. Theirreligion is a pleasure to them, and not a task, and I know that someyears ago, when we had a priest who was always denouncing theProtestants, they very soon managed to get him changed for another.
"What a funny thing it is, to be sure, that people should quarrel abouttheir religion! After all, we believe all the same important things; andas to others, what does it matter, provided we all do our best in the waythat seems right to us?"
But this was too liberal for John. He had been brought up in too strait asect to subscribe to such an opinion as this.
"I do think it makes a difference, Walter," he said slowly.
"I don't," Walter said. "It's just a matter of bringing up. If you hadbeen born in the Castle, and I had been born in your place, you wouldhave thought as I do, and I should have thought as you do; and of course,still more if you had been born in a Catholic country like Italy, whereyou would never have heard of Protestantism, and I had been born in aProtestant country like Holland, where I should never have had a chanceof becoming a Catholic. Very few people ever change their religion. Theyjust live and die as they have been born and educated."
"It seems so," John said after a pause; "but the question is too deep forus."
"Quite so," Walter laughed, "and I don't want to argue it.
"Well, when are you going to start?"
"I am off tomorrow morning. My father has an acquaintance in Dublin whois starting for Derry, and I am to go in his charge."
For another hour the boys chatted together, and then, with mutualpromises of writing regularly, whenever they had the chance, they saidgoodbye; and the following morning John started with his father toDublin, and next day journeyed north towards Derry.