Henty George Alfred
Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick
Mrs. Conyers at once wrote the letter, which Captain Davenant carried himself into Limerick, as he was going in to report the occurrences of the preceding night. The governor immediately sent the letter across, with a flag of truce. General Sarsfield, who was in command of the cavalry, expressed himself highly pleased with the result of the raid across the Shannon, and appointed three officers to raise another troop of horse with the captured animals, which had arrived before morning at Ballygan, and to place themselves under Captain Davenant's command.
"Your son must be a lad after your own heart," he said to Captain Davenant. "It was indeed a most gallant action, thus, with twenty-five dismounted men only, to attack a strong troop of Hessians. I hope that, as soon as he is well enough to mount a horse again, you will introduce him to me. Keep your troop in readiness for a move, for I mean to beat them up before long."
"Can't I see Walter today, mamma?" Claire asked, after Captain Davenant had ridden off. "It seems so unkind, my being in the house with him, and not going in to tell him how sorry I am that he was wounded."
"Not today, Claire. He is very flushed and feverish this morning, and I must not have him excited at all."
"But I would not excite him, mother. I would only go in and speak to him quietly."
"Even that would excite him, my dear. I will tell him that you want to come in and see him; but that I think you had better not do so, for a day or two."
But even without the excitement of Claire's presence, Walter became more feverish, and by evening was talking wildly. The excitement and anxiety he had gone through were as much responsible for this as the wound, and by midnight he knew no one. The surgeon, who came over in the evening, ordered cloths constantly soaked with fresh water to be placed round his head, and that he should be given, whenever he desired it, barley water sharpened by apples boiled in it.
Mrs. Conyers and Larry sat, one on each side of his couch, and once or twice, when he was lying quiet, Claire was allowed to steal in and look at him; but at other times Mrs. Conyers kept her out of the room, for, in his feverish talk, Walter was constantly mentioning her name, and telling her he would come to her.
Mrs. Conyers was troubled and perplexed in her mind. Regarding Claire as a child, and Walter as a lad of eighteen, the thought that any serious consequence would arise from their intercourse at the Hall had not occurred to her; but now she could not doubt that, on Walter's part, at least, a serious attachment for her daughter had sprung up, and Claire's face and manner told her a similar story. She was but sixteen, but, having been her mother's companion and friend, she was older than many girls of the same age. Mrs. Conyers would rather that it had not been so, for she foresaw much sorrow for Claire. She had thought that her daughter, as a wealthy heiress, would some day make a good match, and Walter, whose fortune, in any case, would be but a small one–for she knew that his father's estates had passed from the family–was a soldier on the side she believed would be the losing one. Still, she felt that he had earned a right to Claire, and resolved that, come what would, if it turned out that Claire's affections were really given to the lad, she should have her support and championship with her father.
For two days the fever continued, and then the care of his watchers prevailed, and Walter sank into a quiet sleep, from which he awoke sensible and refreshed.
An answer had been received from Mr. Conyers, on the same afternoon that his wife's letter was sent to him. He had been in council with the king, when an officer came in with the news that some Hessians had ridden in, saying that the troop to which they belonged had ridden out to a large house, two miles beyond the spot at which the regiment was quartered, and had there been attacked by a body of Irish troops, who had killed all their officers, and three-quarters of the troop.
"Knowing where the regiment was quartered, it at once struck me that the house might be our own, and, on the trooper being brought in, I found that it was so, and obtained permission from the king to accompany the regiment of Danish horse, who were at once sent out. The king gave stringent orders to the officer in command that the house was to be respected, and a guard was to be placed there to protect it from marauders. You can imagine my anxiety, as I rode out, and how it was increased when I found the place absolutely deserted. From the trooper whom we took with us, we learned something of what had taken place. He had been in the garden, but the officers and nearly half the troopers were in the house. Suddenly, the sounds of a conflict were heard within. Then many of his comrades jumped from the windows, and, as they reported the number of the assailants was not large, an attack was made upon the house. After considerable loss, an entrance was effected, and they were gradually overcoming the defenders, when they were attacked in the rear by a fresh body of the enemy, and only a few of them managed to make their escape.
"The appearance of the house fully corroborated his story. The inside was piled with dead, who were found scattered all over the house. Among them were a few men in the uniform of one of the Irish cavalry regiments. This was some alleviation to my terrible anxiety. Had the assailants been a body of peasants, I should have feared that they had wreaked on you and Claire the hatred which they feel, I own not unjustly, towards the king's foreign troops. As they were regular soldiers, I had hopes that they had only carried you off as hostages.
"One of the female servants was found below, killed. No pursuit was possible, as we could find no one of whom to inquire by which way the enemy retreated; but, in the morning, we found that the horses of the Hessians had been ridden to a spot some miles up the river, where they had swam or forded the stream. There was a strong party of the enemy on the opposite side. My anxiety was terrible, till I received your letter, and you may imagine how great a shock it was to me to learn the frightful scene through which you had passed, and how my sentiments changed towards those whom I had regarded as your abductors, but whom I now learn were your saviours.
"I have read that portion of your letter to the king, who is furious at the evil conduct of his troops. He has, all along, done everything in his power to repress it; but when not under his immediate eye, it seems as if all discipline was lost, and the troops behaved rather as a horde of savages than as soldiers. After what had happened, I cannot blame you for the opinion you express in your letter, or for your determination not to trust yourself and Claire in this camp, although I am sure that the king would send a detachment of his own Dutch guards with you to Dublin. I trust that you will, as soon as the work you have undertaken is over, go to our cousins at Galway, and take ship without delay to England, where I will at once join you, when I hear of your arrival there.
"Please express to Captain Davenant and his son the extreme obligation under which I feel towards them, and assure them that I look forward to the time when this unfortunate struggle shall be at an end, and I can meet them and thank them personally. It will be a satisfaction to you to be able to inform them that I have, this morning, obtained from the king a peremptory order on the commission in Dublin, to stay all proceedings in the matter of Captain Davenant's estate near Bray, which was on the list of confiscated properties. I am forwarding this by one of the royal messengers, who leaves with despatches today, and, when I visit Dublin, I shall do myself the pleasure of calling on Mrs. Davenant, and of setting her mind at ease."
While Walter had been at his worst, his father had been away for only a few hours. After his interview with Sarsfield in Limerick, a messenger arrived from that general, ordering Captain Davenant to bring his troop into the city at once. It was four in the afternoon when he arrived, and he at once went to General Sarsfield's quarters.
"Let the men dismount, Captain Davenant, and let them and the horses feed. We have a long ride before us tonight. I have just heard that William's siege artillery is coming up, under a weak escort, and I mean to get round in the Dutchman's rear and destroy it. He shall find that Limerick is not to be taken as easily as he expects.
"He has had a disagreeable sample of our quality today. A deserter brought in news of the exact position of his tent, and our artillery have been giving him such a peppering that, from the church tower, we see that he has been obliged to move his camp."
As soon as it was night, four hundred cavalry were in the saddle. Sarsfield placed himself at their head, and rode twelve miles up the Shannon to Killaloe. Crossing the river there, he made a wide sweep with his cavalry, until he was in the heart of the Tipperary mountains, in rear of William's camp.
Quietly as the expedition had been carried out, it was impossible that so large a body of horse should ride through the country unperceived, and a gentleman of county Clare, named O'Brian, thinking that he would gain honour and advantage by reporting their passage to William, set out for the British camp. Being unknown there, he was a long time before he could get access to the king. The officers to whom he spoke paid little attention to his story about a body of Irish horse passing through the country, and were much more interested in gaining information from him as to the state of the stock of cattle, sheep, and pigs in his part of the county; for, owing to the terror excited by the conduct of William's soldiers, the people for many miles round had driven off their stock and left the villages, and provisions were already becoming scarce in the camp.
At length, however, one of those to whom he had spoken mentioned his story to the king, who at once sent for him, and saw the importance of the news he brought. O'Brian himself had no idea of the object of Sarsfield's expedition, but the king instantly guessed that it was the siege train. He therefore ordered a large body of cavalry to be immediately despatched to meet the artillery on its way, and protect it into camp.
All day, Sarsfield remained in concealment among the mountains, until, towards evening, the train came in sight, moving slowly with its escort of two troops of dragoons along the high road. He watched it until it halted, and encamped for the night, in a field beside the highway. He waited until the horses were picketed, and the men engaged in making their encampment for the night. Then the Irish cavalry burst down from the glen in which they had been hiding. The officer in command sounded to horse, but it was too late; before the men were in the saddle, the Irish were upon them, and in a moment the two troops of dragoons were dispersed or killed.
Sarsfield's men at once set to, to collect the powder waggons, pontoons, and baggage of every description. The great guns were filled with powder to the muzzle, and then buried two-thirds of their length in the earth. The whole mass of siege equipage was piled above them, and a train of gunpowder was laid to the store in the centre. The men then drew off to a distance. A match was applied to the train, and the whole blew up with a tremendous explosion.
The shock was heard in the faraway camp of William, and he knew that his cavalry had arrived too late to avert the catastrophe he feared. They had, indeed, just arrived within sight of the spot when the explosion took place. They rode on at full speed, only to find the vast pile of ruined woodwork blazing furiously. The Irish cavalry was seen in the distance, leisurely retiring; but, although the English pursued for a short time, the Irish easily evaded them in the darkness among the hills. The whole of William's cavalry in camp were sent out, when the explosion was felt, to endeavour to cut off the Irish horse; but Sarsfield was well acquainted with the ground, and retired with his troops safely across the Shannon, having struck a terrible blow against the designs of William.
The king, however, found that, in spite of the measures Sarsfield had taken, two of the guns remained uninjured by the explosion. These were brought to the camp, and another heavy gun was fetched from Waterford, together with a small quantity of ammunition. The regiments were at once set to manufacture fascines for the siege, and this work proceeded quickly, the orchards and plantations furnishing an abundance of wood. The fascines were used for filling up ditches, and the advances against the town were pushed forward with vigour.
But the besiegers were not allowed to carry on their work unmolested, for a constant fire was kept up by the guns on the walls, and the besieged made several sorties, driving back the working parties, destroying their work, and retiring before any considerable bodies of troops could be brought up to attack them. The three heavy guns were, however, brought into position at a short distance from the wall, and began to play upon it.
The dissensions between the Irish commanders still continued, and, beyond Sarsfield's raid against the battering train, nothing was done to annoy the enemy in the rear, although, had any vigour been shown, the Irish army lying idle west of the Shannon could have moved across, and speedily starved out William's army by cutting off all supplies. Even as it was, provisions could only be collected by sending out strong bodies of troops to plunder the country; for the peasantry had been goaded into fury by the evil conduct of the troops, and were now in a state of insurrection, cutting off and murdering all stragglers, and driving in small parties.
William had good reason to regret that he had brought with him so small a contingent of British troops, owing to his doubts whether they could be depended upon, and his poor opinion of their bravery; for, since the days of Agincourt, English troops had been seldom seen on the Continent, and were consequently held but in small esteem there. He had with him now a regiment of English grenadiers, and a few line regiments, but the bulk of the army was composed of his Dutch troops and foreign mercenaries. The latter had shown, at the battle of the Boyne, that their courage was not of a high order, while their excesses had not only produced a bitter feeling of hatred against them throughout the country, but had done immense harm to the cause, by rendering it next to impossible to obtain provisions.
Walter's progress towards recovery, from the day when he recovered consciousness, was very rapid. The fever, though severe, had been short, and he gained strength almost as rapidly as he had lost it. The morning after he had come to himself, Mrs. Conyers brought Claire in to see him.
"Here is a young lady who is very anxious to see how you are getting on, Walter," she said cheerfully; "and, now you are going on so well, I shall hand you over a good deal to her care, as some of the others want my attention badly. You must not talk much, you know, else we shall be having you getting feverish again."
So saying, she left the room.
Claire had stopped timidly near the door. The change which four days had made in Walter's appearance shocked her, and she scarcely recognized, in the pale drawn face, the youth who had burst in, sword in hand, to her rescue on that terrible evening. The tears were running fast down her cheeks, as she approached the couch.
"Why, what is the matter, Claire?" he asked. "You must not cry. I am all right again now, and in a week shall be on horseback, I hope."
"Oh, Walter, what can I say?" she said. "To think that you should have suffered so, for us!"
"There is nothing dreadful about it," he said, smiling. "A soldier must expect to get wounded, sometimes, and a slash from a German sword is not a serious matter. I am only too glad that I got it in your cause, Claire–only too glad that I was able to be of service to you–and your mother," he added in afterthought. "It makes me very happy, to think I have been useful to you, only I would rather that you didn't say anything more about it. I am quite content and happy, as it is, and, if it had been my life, I would have gladly given it."
"I won't say any more, if you don't wish it," Claire said quietly, "but I shall think of it, always.
"And now," she said, with an effort, "mamma said you were not to talk much, and you look quite flushed already, so you must lie quiet, and I will read to you, or work, if you like that better."
"I don't care which it is," Walter said, "so that I can look at you;" and this time Claire's cheeks were a good deal redder than Walter's.
Mrs. Conyers returned in half an hour, and found Claire sitting working, while Walter lay looking at her.
"I think, Claire, you had better take your work in the next room again," she said. "Walter looks flushed, and I don't think your visit has done him any good. You have been talking too much."
"It has done me an immense deal of good, Mrs. Conyers," Walter protested; while Claire exclaimed that they had hardly spoken a word, which indeed was the truth, for Walter had been feeling too dreamily happy to want to talk, and Claire had felt so shy and embarrassed, with Walter watching her, that she had been unable to hit on a single subject for remark.
Another two days, and Walter was well enough to get up and lie on a couch of heather, covered with the blanket, which Larry had prepared for him in the next room. His voice had recovered its natural ring, and Claire had got over her unaccustomed shyness; and Mrs. Conyers, as she moved in and out, heard them laughing and chatting together, as they had done ten days before at the Hall.
Chapter 11: The First Siege Of Limerick
The three heavy guns thundered against the walls without intermission, night and day, until at length a breach was made. The garrison in vain attempted to repair it, and every hour it grew larger, until there was a yawning gap, twelve yards wide. This William considered sufficient for the purpose, and made his preparations for the assault. The English regiment of grenadiers, six hundred strong, was ordered to take its place in the advanced trenches, and to lead the assault. It was supported on the right by the Dutch Guards, with some British and Brandenburg regiments in reserve.
On the left, the grenadiers were supported by the Danish regiments, and a large body of cavalry were held in readiness, to pour in behind the infantry. The storming parties were under command of Lieutenant General Douglas.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, the signal for the assault was given by a discharge of three pieces of cannon. As the last gun was fired, the grenadiers leaped from the trenches and dashed forward towards the breach. As they approached the wall, they discharged their muskets at the enemy upon the walls, and, before assaulting the breach, they hurled a shower of hand grenades at its defenders.
The preparations for the assault had been observed by the Irish, and they were in readiness to receive it. The news had spread through the town, and the excitement among the whole population was intense. The guns on the walls ceased firing, in order that all might be ready to pour in their shower of balls, when the assault commenced. The fire from the batteries of the besiegers had also died away, and a silence, which seemed strange after the constant din of the preceding days, hung over the camp and city.
No sooner had the grenadiers leaped from the trenches, than the guns on the walls, and the musketry of the defenders, poured their fire upon them; while all the batteries of the besiegers opened, at the same moment, to cover the assault. Through the hail of fire the grenadiers kept on without faltering, and, as they neared the breach, the Irish rushed out through the opening to meet them. There was a desperate struggle, half hidden from the eyes of those on the walls by the cloud of smoke and dust, which arose from the combatants; but the grenadiers, fighting with the greatest gallantry, won their way to the counter-scarp, and half the regiment forced its way through the breach and entered the town. But the Irish troops, clustered behind the wall, then closed in again, and barred the breach to those following.
The Dutch and English regiments were marched up, to aid the rest of the grenadiers to cut their way in after their comrades; but these troops were unable to imitate the valour of the grenadiers. They got as far as the counter-scarp; but the fire from the walls was so deadly, that they could not be prevailed upon to advance. The rain of fire mowed them down. Their officers urged them on, and, unwilling to retreat and incapable of advancing, they were shot down in scores.
Presently there was a sudden movement among the Irish defenders on the breach, and a few of the grenadiers who had entered the city burst their way through them, and rejoined their comrades. No sooner had they entered the city, than they found themselves assailed on all sides. The Irish troops and the citizens attacked them with fury, and even the women, animated by the deadly hate which the deeds of William's soldiers had excited, hurled missiles upon them from the windows, and even joined in the attacks upon them in the streets.
The grenadiers resisted obstinately, but they were gradually overpowered by numbers, until at last a few survivors, gathering together, burst through their assailants, and succeeded in making their retreat. For nearly three hours this furious conflict had raged within the city. Regiment after regiment had been marched up to the assault, but none had proved brave enough to fight their way up the counter-scarp to the aid of the hard-pressed grenadiers in the town.
When the little remnant of the grenadiers rejoined them, they continued, for a time, to keep up a constant fire upon the defenders on the walls, but at last slowly and sullenly fell back to their camp.
In the meantime, a regiment of Brandenburghers had attacked the wall of the battery known as the Black Battery, whose fire was doing great execution upon the assailants. They had brought scaling ladders with them, and with these they succeeded, fighting with great bravery and determination, in gaining the walls. The whole regiment poured in; but, just as they did so, the Irish fired the powder magazine that supplied the battery, and the whole battalion was destroyed.
William, from his position on a fort known as Cromwell's Fort, watched the struggle. Had he acted as Cromwell did, at the siege of Drogheda, when, after his troops had been twice repulsed at the breach, he placed himself at their head and led them to the assault, the result might not have been the same; for the regiments, which refused to follow their officers up the counter-scarp, might have followed the king; but William, although he had often proved the possession of no ordinary courage, and coolness in danger, had not that species of courage which prompts a man to throw himself forward to lead a forlorn hope. Moreover, both as a general-in-chief and king, his place was not at the head of an assault.
The assailants lost more than two thousand men, and these the flower of William's army. The surprise of the troops, at their defeat by an enemy they had been taught to despise, was extreme, and so ashamed were they of their failure, that the following day they were ready to renew the assault. The king, however, would not risk another such defeat. The bravest of his force had perished, his stores of ammunition were nearly exhausted, and the rains had set in with great violence.
On the day following the assault, the king called a council of war, and it was resolved to raise the siege. There was a great scarcity of waggons and horses, in consequence of the loss sustained by Sarsfield's attack on the train. The few waggons which remained were not enough to convey the wounded men, many of whom were obliged to walk. The stores had, therefore, to be abandoned for want of transport. Some were thrown into the river, others blown up and destroyed, and, on Saturday the 30th of August, the army commenced its retreat.
It was accompanied by a great host of fugitives, for with the army went the whole of the Protestant inhabitants of the county of Limerick and the surrounding country, with their wives, children, servants, and such household goods as they could bring with them. In addition to these were the Protestant fugitives from the neighbourhood of Athlone, who had come down with the division of General Douglas, after he had raised the siege of that city.
The Protestants round Limerick had not doubted the success of the besiegers, never questioning the ability of an army, commanded by a king, to capture a place like Limerick. The misery of this body of fugitives was terrible. They had abandoned their homes to pillage and destruction, and knew not whether they should ever be able to return to them again. They had, on the arrival of William, torn up the letters of protection, which the Irish generals had given to all who applied to them, and, having thrown in their fortunes with him, dared not remain among the country people, who had suffered so terribly from the exactions and brutality of William's army. Not only had they to endure wet, hunger, and fatigue in the retreat, but they were robbed and plundered, by the army which should have protected them, as if they had been enemies instead of friends.
William himself left his army, as soon as he broke up the siege, and pushed straight on to Waterford, and the troops, relieved from the only authority they feared, and rendered furious by the ill success which had attended their operations, broke out into acts of plunder and insubordination which surpassed anything that they had before perpetrated.
The siege of Limerick brought the campaign to a close, and, so far, the Irish had no reason to be disheartened. They had besieged and nearly annihilated the army of Schomberg at Dundalk. They had fought a sturdy battle on the Boyne, and had proved themselves a match for William's best troops. They had decisively repulsed the attacks upon Athlone and Limerick. Half the troops William had sent to conquer the country had fallen, while their own losses had been comparatively small.
The sole fruit, of all the efforts of William, had been the occupation of the capital–a great advantage, as it gave him a point at which he could pour fresh troops into Ireland, and recommence the war in the spring with new chances of success. When the British army reached Callan, some of the arrears of pay were distributed among the troops, and the army was then broken up, and the troops went into winter quarters.
William had returned at once to England, and sent over some new lords justices to Dublin. These were received with delight by the townspeople, who had suffered terribly from the exactions and depredations of the foreign troops quartered there, and were, indeed, almost in a state of starvation, for the country people were afraid to bring in provisions for sale, as they were either plundered of the goods as they approached the city, or robbed of their money as they returned after disposing of them. As the only possible check to these disorders, the justices raised a body of militia in the town, to cope with the soldiery, and the result was a series of frays which kept the city in a state of alarm.
By the time that Limerick beat off the assault upon its breach, Walter Davenant was quite convalescent. Rumours of the ill treatment of the Protestants who accompanied the retreating army circulated in Limerick, and Mrs. Conyers congratulated herself warmly that she and her daughter were safe under the protection of the Irish troops, instead of being in the sad column of fugitives.
As soon as the English army had left, Captain Davenant obtained for her an order of protection from General Sarsfield, and she returned for a while with her daughter to their house, to which the invalids were carried, Captain Davenant's troop being again quartered around it.
"I hardly know what is best to do," she said to Captain Davenant, a few days after her return. "I am, of course, anxious to rejoin my husband, but at the same time, I feel that my staying here is of benefit to him. With the order of protection I have received, I am perfectly safe here, and I have no fear whatever of any trouble, either with the troops or peasantry; but, on the other hand, if we abandon this place, I fear that it will be pillaged, and perhaps burned, like the other houses belonging to Protestants which have been deserted by their owners. What do you say, Captain Davenant?"
"I should be sorry to give any advice, Mrs. Conyers. For the troops I can answer. The protection you have received from General Sarsfield will be sufficient to ensure you against any trouble whatever from them, but, as to the peasantry, I cannot say. Every village within reach of William's army, in its advance or retreat, has been destroyed, and the vilest atrocities have been committed upon the people. The greater part of the men have, in despair, taken up arms, and, when they get the chance, will avenge their wrongs upon inoffensive Protestants who have ventured to remain in their dwellings. Savagery has begot savagery, and even such a protection order as you have received would go for little with these half-maddened wretches. I should say, therefore, that so long as there are a considerable body of troops at Limerick, so long you may safely remain here, but no longer."
"At any rate, I will stay for a time," Mrs. Conyers said. "The winter may bring peace; and I am very loath to abandon the house, to which my husband is greatly attached, if it is possible to save it."
