Chapter 6: Dundalk.
After the failure before Derry, the utmost confusion prevailed in themilitary councils, arising chiefly from the jealousies and conflictingauthorities of the French and Irish commanders. James was entirely underthe control of the French ambassador, who, together with all hiscountrymen in Ireland, affected to despise the Irish as a rude anduncivilized people; while the Irish, in turn, hated the French for theirarrogance and insolence. Many of the Irish gentlemen, who had raisedregiments at their private expense, were superseded to make room forFrenchmen, appointed by the influence of the French ambassador. Thesegentlemen returned home in disgust, and were soon followed by their men,who were equally discontented at being handed over to the command offoreigners, instead of their native leaders.
Every day, the breach widened between the French and Irish, and thediscontent caused by the king's exactions was wide and general; and ifWilliam, at this time, had offered favourable terms to the Catholics, itis probable that an arrangement could have been arrived at.
But William was busily at work, preparing an army for the conquest of thecountry. Had Ireland stood alone, it is probable that England would, atany rate for a time, have suffered it to go its own way; but its closealliance with France, and the fact that French influence was all powerfulwith James, rendered it impossible for England to submit to theestablishment of what would be a foreign and hostile power, so close toher shores. Besides, if Ireland remained under the dominion of James, thepower of William on the throne of England could never have beenconsolidated.
Although he had met with no resistance on his assumption of the throne,he had the hearty support of but a mere fraction of the English people,and his accession was the work of a few great Whig families, only. Hisrule was by no means popular, and his Dutch favourites were as muchdisliked, in England, as were James' French adherents in Ireland.
In Scotland, the Jacobite party were numerous and powerful, and were inopen rebellion to his authority. Thus, then, if William's position on thethrone of England was to be consolidated, it was necessary that a blowshould be struck in Ireland.
Torn by dissension, without plan or leading, the Irish army remained, formonths, inactive; most of the regiments having, after the northerncampaign, returned to the districts in which they were raised; and thus,no preparation was made to meet the army which was preparing to invadethe country.
This, ten thousand strong, under the command of General Schomberg, who,although eighty years of age, was still an able, active, and spiritedcommander, embarked on the 8th of August at Chester, and on the 13thlanded near Bangor, in Carrickfergus Bay. There was no force there ofsufficient strength to oppose him.
Schomberg found Antrim and Belfast deserted; but the garrison atCarrickfergus, consisting of two regiments, prepared vigorously for asiege. Schomberg at once prepared to invest it, and in a short timeattacked it by land and sea. The siege was pressed with vigour, but thegarrison, under M'Carty Moore, defended themselves with the greatestskill and bravery. As fast as breaches were battered in their walls, theyrepaired them, and repulsed every attempt of the besiegers to gain afooting in the town. The garrison were badly supplied with ammunition,but they stripped the lead from the roofs of the castle and church tomake bullets.
But all this time, no attempt whatever was made to relieve them. TheFrench and Irish generals were disputing as to what was the best plan ofcampaign. The king was busy making money with his trade with France; and,after holding out until they had burned their last grain of powder, thegallant garrison were forced to capitulate. Schomberg was too glad to getthe place to insist on hard terms, and the garrison marched out with allthe honours of war--drums beating, and matches alight--and were conveyed,with all their stores, arms, and public and private property, to thenearest Irish post.
The effect of this determined resistance, on the part of the littlegarrison at Carrickfergus, was to impress Schomberg with the fact thatthe difficulty of the task he had undertaken was vastly greater than hehad supposed. The success with which Londonderry had defended itselfagainst the Irish army had impressed him with the idea that the levies ofKing James were simply contemptible; but the fighting qualities of thegarrison of Carrickfergus had shown him that they were a foe by no meansto be despised, and convinced him that the force at his command wasaltogether inadequate to his necessities.
He therefore moved south with extreme caution. He found the countryaltogether wasted and deserted. The Protestants had long since fled, andwere gathered round Derry and Enniskillen. The Catholics had now desertedtheir homes, at his approach; and the troops, in their retreat, hadburned and wasted everything, so that he had no means of subsistence forhis army, and was obliged to rely upon the fleet, which he ordered tofollow him down the coast.
Schomberg was soon joined by three regiments of Enniskillen horse. Theappearance of these troops astonished the English. They resembled rathera horde of Italian banditti than a body of European cavalry. Theyobserved little order in their military movements, and no uniformity ofdress or accoutrement. Each man was armed and clad according to his ownfancy, and accompanied by a mounted servant, carrying his baggage. But,like the Cossacks, whom they closely resembled, they were distinguishedby an extreme rapidity of movement, and a fierceness and contempt of alldifficulty and danger. They calculated neither chances nor numbers, butrushed to the attack of any foe with a ferocity and fanaticism whichalmost ensured success, and they regarded the slaughter of a Papist as anacceptable service to the Lord. They plundered wherever they went, andwere a scourge to the Irish Protestants as well as Catholics.
The troops furnished by Derry were similar in character to those fromEnniskillen. They could not endure the restraints of discipline, and werelittle use in acting with the regular army, and, like the Cossacks, wereformidable only when acting by themselves. Schomberg and his successor,and, indeed, the whole of the English officers, soon came to abhor thesesavage and undisciplined allies.
Still, the Irish army made no move. Report had magnified Schomberg'sstrength to more than twice its real numbers, and the military leaderscould not believe that, after so many months of preparation, William haddespatched so small an army for the conquest of Ireland.
Confusion and dismay reigned in Dublin. The French Marshal, De Rosen,advised that Dublin and Drogheda should be abandoned, and that the Irisharmy should be concentrated at Athlone and Limerick; but Tyrconnell wentto Drogheda, where the council of war was sitting, and strenuouslyopposed this, promising that by the next night twenty thousand men shouldbe assembled there. Expresses were sent out in all directions; and byforced marches, the Irish troops stationed in Munster directed theircourse to Drogheda, in high spirits and anxious to meet the enemy.
Schomberg, although he had been reinforced by six thousand men fromEngland, fell back at the news of the gathering, and formed an intrenchedcamp in a strong position between Dundalk and the sea. His approacheswere covered by mountains, rivers, and morasses; his communication wasopen to the sea, and here he resolved to wait for reinforcements.
Captain Davenant became more and more despondent as to the cause in whichhe had embarked.
"Without the king, and without his French allies," he said bitterly tohis wife, "we might hope for success; but these are enough to ruin anycause. Were the king's object to excite discontent and disgust among hissubjects, he could not act otherwise than he is now doing. His wholethoughts are devoted to wringing money out of the people, and any time hehas to spare is spent upon superintending the building of the nunneries,in which he is so interested. As to the French, they paralyse allmilitary operations. They regard us as an inferior race, and act as if,with their own five or six thousand troops, they could defeat all thepower of England. It is heartbreaking seeing our chances so wasted.
"Had advantage been taken of the enthusiasm excited when King Jameslanded; had he himself been wise and prudent, disinterested for himself,and desirous of obtaining the affections of all classes; and had hebrought with him none of these Fr
ench adventurers, he would, long erethis, have been undisputed King of Ireland from end to end, and we shouldhave stood as one people in arms, ready to oppose ourselves to any forcethat England could send against us. Never were chances so frittered away,never such a succession of blunders and folly. It is enough to breakone's heart."
"I do hope, father, that when the troop marches again you will take me ascornet. I am six months older than I was, and have learned a lot in thelast campaign. You have not filled up the place of Cornet O'Driscoll. Idid think, when he was killed in that last fight you had before Derry,you would have appointed me."
"In some respects I am less inclined than ever, Walter," Captain Davenantsaid; "for I begin to regard success as hopeless."
"It will make no difference, father, in that way, for if we are beatenthey are sure to hand all our land over to the Protestants. Besides,things may turn out better than you think; and whether or no, I shouldcertainly like to do my best for Ireland."
"Well, we will think about it," Captain Davenant said; and Walter wassatisfied, for he felt sure that his father would finally accede to hiswishes.
It was late at night, when the mounted messenger dashed up to the door ofthe castle and handed in an order. Captain Davenant opened it.
"We are to march, in half an hour's time, to Drogheda. The whole army isto assemble there."
"Hurray!" Walter shouted. "Something is going to be done, at last."
A man was sent down to the village at once, to order the twenty menquartered there to saddle and mount instantly, and ride up to the castle;while another, on horseback, started for Bray to get the main body underarms. Mrs. Davenant busied herself in packing the wallets of her husbandand son. She was very pale, but she said little.
"God bless you both," she said, when all was finished, "and bring youback again safely. I won't ask you to take care of yourselves, because,of course, you must do your duty, and with all my love I should not wishyou to draw back from that. When home and religion and country are atstake, even we women could not wish to keep those we love beside us."
There was a last embrace, and then Captain Davenant and his son sprang ontheir horses, which were waiting at the door, took their place at thehead of the party which had come up from the village, and rode away intothe darkness, while the two Mrs. Davenants gave free vent to the tearswhich they had hitherto so bravely restrained.
At Bray, Captain Davenant found the rest of his troop drawn up inreadiness, and after a brief inspection, to see that all were presentwith their proper arms and accoutrements, he started with them forDublin, and after a few hours' rest there continued his way towardsDrogheda.
The army then proceeded north to Dundalk, and bitter was thedisappointment of the troops when, on arriving there, they found thatSchomberg, instead of advancing to give battle, had shut himself up inthe intrenchments he had formed, and could not be induced to sally out.
In vain King James, who accompanied his army, formed it up in order ofbattle within sight of the invaders' lines. Schomberg was not to betempted out, and, as the position appeared to be too strong to beattacked, the Irish were forced to endeavour to reduce it by the slowprocess of starvation. The English army was soon reduced to pitiablestraits--not from hunger, for they were able to obtain food from theships, but from disease. The situation of the camp was low and unhealthy.Fever broke out, and swept away vast numbers of the men.
The Dutch and Enniskilleners suffered comparatively little--both wereaccustomed to a damp climate. But of the English troops, nearly eightthousand died in the two months that the blockade lasted. Had Jamesmaintained his position, the whole of the army of Schomberg must haveperished; but, most unfortunately for his cause, he insisted onpersonally conducting operations, and when complete success was in hisgrasp he marched his army away, in the middle of November, to winterquarters; thereby allowing Schomberg to move, with the eight thousand menwho remained to him, from the pest-stricken camp to healthier quarters.
The disgust, of those of James's officers who understood anything of war,at this termination of the campaign was extreme. The men, indeed, wereeager to return to their homes, but would gladly have attempted anassault on the English camp before doing so; and, as the defenders werereduced to half their original strength, while most of the survivors wereweakened by disease, the attack would probably have been successful.James himself was several times on the point of ordering an attack, buthis own vacillation of character was heightened by the conflictingcounsels of his generals, who seemed more bent on thwarting each otherthan on gaining the cause for which they fought.
The cavalry were not idle, while the blockade of Schomberg's campcontinued, frequently making excursions over the country to bring incattle for the army; for the villagers had, for the most part, desertedtheir homes, and herds of cattle were grazing without masters. One day,Captain Davenant's troop had ridden some thirty miles out of camp, andhad halted for the night in a village. In the morning, they broke up intosmall parties and scattered round the country. Walter, with fifteen ofthe troopers, had collected some cattle and stopped for an hour, to feedand rest the horses, in a deserted village. He took the precaution toplace two or three men on sentry round it.
The men were sitting on the doorsteps, eating the food they had broughtwith them, when one of the outposts dashed in at full gallop, shoutingthat the enemy were upon them; but his warning came too late, for, closebehind him, came a body of wild-looking horsemen, shouting and yelling.There was a cry of "The Enniskilleners!" and the men ran to their horses.
They had scarcely time to throw themselves in the saddle, when theEnniskilleners charged down. For a minute or two there was a confusedmedley, and then three or four of the troopers rode off at full speed,hotly pursued by the Enniskilleners.
Walter had discharged his pistols and drawn his sword, but before he hadtime to strike a blow, his horse was rolled over by the rush of theenemy, and, as he was falling, he received a blow on the head from asabre which stretched him insensible on the ground. He was roused by twomen turning him over and searching his pockets. A slight groan burst fromhis lips.
"The fellow is not dead," one of the men said.
"We will soon settle that," the other replied.
"Don't kill him," the first speaker said. "Wait till the captain hasspoken to him. We may be able to get some information from him. We canfinish him afterwards."
Walter lay with his eyes closed. He well knew that the Enniskillenerstook no prisoners, but killed all who fell into their hands, and hedetermined to show no signs of returning consciousness. Presently, heheard the sound of a party of horsemen returning, and by the exclamationsof disappointment which greeted the news they gave, he learned that some,at least, of his men had made their escape.
Some time later, several men came up to him. One leaned over him, and puthis hand to his heart.
"He is alive."
"Very well," another voice said. "Then we will take him with us. He is anofficer, and will be able to tell us all about their strength.
"Watkins, you have a strong beast, and do not weigh much. Do you mount,and then we will tie him to your back."
A minute later Walter was lifted up, and felt that he was placed on ahorse with his back to that of the rider. A rope was wound several timesround his body. He remained perfectly passive, with his head hanging downon his breast. Then a word of command was given, and the troop set off.
For a time, there was no need for him to pretend insensibility, for thepain of his wound and the loss of blood overpowered him, and for sometime he was unconscious. After two hours' riding, the troop was halted.Walter felt the rope taken off him. Then he was lifted down, dragged ashort distance, and thrown down on some straw. Then a door shut, and heheard a key turned. He felt sure that he was alone, but for some time layperfectly quiet, as it was possible that one of the men might haveremained to watch him.
After a quarter of an hour, hearing not the slightest sound, he openedhis eyes and looked round. He was, as he supposed,
alone. The place inwhich he was lying was a stable, lighted only by a small opening high upin the wall. Certain, therefore, that he was not overlooked, he made aneffort to rise to his feet, but he was so weak and giddy that he wasobliged, for some time, to remain leaning against the wall. Seeing abucket in one corner, he made to it, and found, to his delight, that itwas half full of water, for he was parched with a devouring thirst.
After taking a deep draught he felt greatly revived, and then made athorough survey of his prison. It evidently formed part of the house of awell-to-do man, for it was solidly built of stone, and the door wasstrong and well fitted.
The opening in the wall was out of his reach. He could, at ordinarytimes, by standing on the upturned bucket, have reached it with a spring,and pulled himself up to it, but at present he was wholly incapable ofsuch exertion. He thought, however, that after a night's rest he would beable to do it.
The door was so strong that he had no hope of escape in that direction.As he might at any moment be disturbed, he returned to the straw on whichhe had at first been thrown, laid himself down, and in a very short timedropped off to sleep.
It was dark, before he was awoke by the turning of the key in the lock,and two men entered, one of them bearing a horn lantern.
"Where am I?" Walter asked, in a feeble tone, as they approached him.
"Never mind where you are," one said roughly. "Get up."
Walter seemed to make an effort, and then fell back with a groan.
The man repeated his order, emphasizing it with a kick. Walter again madean effort, and, as before, sank back.
"Here, catch hold of him," the man said, impatiently, "it's no usefooling here with him."
The men took Walter under the arms and lifted him up, and half dragged,half carried him out of the stable and into the house adjoining. He wastaken into a room where four or five men were sitting.
"Now, young fellow," one said sharply, "tell us what corps you belongto."
Walter looked stupidly at his questioner, but made no answer.
"Answer my question," the man said, levelling a pistol at him, "or I willblow out your brains at once."
Still Walter stared at him stupidly, and made no reply, except to mutter,"Water."
"It's no use," one of the other men said. "He hasn't got his right sensesyet. It's no use shooting him now, after we have had the trouble ofbringing him here. In the morning, he will be able to answer you."
"He had better," the other said savagely, "or we will light a fire androast him over it. There, take him back to the stable, and give him adrink of water. I don't want him to slip through our fingers, after thetrouble we have had with him."
Walter was taken back, as before, to the stable, and one of the menbrought him a mug of water, and held it to his lips. He drank eagerly,and then the man placed the mug down beside him, the door was againclosed and locked, and Walter was alone. He rose at once to his feet, andfelt that his sleep had greatly refreshed and strengthened him.
"I will have another sleep, before I try," he said to himself. "It willnot be light till six, and it must be eight or nine o'clock now. I mustmake up my mind, before I doze off, to wake in about three or four hours;but first, I must see what I can find, here."
He felt round the walls, but failed to find anything like a rope.
"I must trust to luck," he said; "I don't suppose they will post manysentries. These fellows are not real soldiers, and no doubt they will allbe sound asleep in a couple of hours."
So saying, he again lay down, and was speedily asleep. When he woke, hefelt sure that he had not exceeded the time he had given himself. Helistened intently. He could hear a low, confused sound, which he knew wasmade by horses feeding, but he could hear no human voices. He drank therest of the water in the mug, then he turned up the bucket, placed itunder the opening, and mounted on it.
His first spring failed to reach the sill, and he stood for a fewminutes, before making another attempt. He knew that it was a matter oflife or death, for he had no doubt whatever that, even if he gave therequired information, which he was determined not to do, however much hemight suffer, he would be shot afterwards. He braced himself to theutmost, took a long breath, and then sprang. His fingers caught on theledge of stonework, and, with a desperate effort, he drew himself up,aided by his feet. He had, before making the attempt, removed his boots,partly to avoid the scraping noise which these would make, partly toenable him the better to avail himself of the inequalities in thestonework.
It was a desperate struggle; and when he got his shoulders in theopening, which was just wide enough to admit them, he lay for three orfour minutes, panting heavily, with the perspiration streaming down hisface. The aperture was too small to admit of his turning in any way, andthere was nothing for it, as he knew, but to drop head foremost.
Gradually, he drew himself through the opening, lowering himself as muchas he could by holding on to the upper edge by his feet. Then, stretchingout his arms to save himself, he let go. Fortunately, the ground wassoft, for a garden adjoined the stable; but the shock was a heavy one,and he lay for a minute or two without moving, having some doubt whetherhe had not broken his neck. Then he got up, and listened.
Everything was still and quiet, and, indeed, his fall had been almostnoiseless. He rose to his feet, felt along the wall until he encountereda low paling, climbed over it, and was in the road.
He had, when he jumped for the window, tied his boots to his back, andnow carried them in his hand. The night was very dark; but his eyes,accustomed to the greater darkness of the stable, had no difficulty infollowing the road. He walked slowly, for the exertion he had undergoneand the shock of the fall had drawn greatly from his small stock ofstrength.
After going a quarter of a mile, he put on his boots, and, climbing awall of sods which bordered the road, struck across country. There wereno stars to guide him, and a slight mist had begun to fall. There was butlittle wind, but this was sufficient to give a direction to the rain.Walter noticed this, and at once struck out in a direction which kept therain falling upon the right side of his face; and he knew that, by socontinuing, he was going in a tolerably straight line. As near as hecould tell he walked for two hours, and then, utterly exhausted, lay downon the lee side of a turf wall.
There was, as yet, no gleam of light in the sky, and in a very fewminutes he was again sound asleep. He woke up with a feeling of bittercold, and, on rising, found that his limbs were completely stiffened bythe wet. It was morning now, the wind had got up, and a driving rain shutout the view on all sides. Walter stamped his feet and swung his arms forsome time to restore the circulation.
He had no idea in which direction he had been travelling, for he did notknow whether the road from which he had started ran north, south, east,or west. He noticed that the wind had changed; for, whereas he had laindown under the lee of the wall, it was now the weather side. He walked inthe same direction as before for two hours, and could then go no farther.He had seen no signs of human habitation, and had not crossed a road oreven a footpath. Since starting in the morning he had passed no morewalls or fences, and, as far as his eye could reach through the drivingrain, nothing was to be seen save a desolate expanse of moor and bog. Hewas, at any rate, free from pursuit for the time, and he thought more ofobtaining food and shelter than of the Enniskilleners.
It was useless pushing further on, even had he been able to do so, whilethe rain lasted; for he might have passed within a quarter of a mile of ahabitation without seeing it. He accordingly threw himself down besidesome low bushes, which afforded him some slight protection from the rain.