Henty George Alfred
Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick
The party now fell back to the mode of life which had been interrupted by the advance of William's army. Captain Davenant drilled his men, and spent his evenings pleasantly in the house. Walter had so far recovered that he was able to stroll through the grounds, or drive with Claire. The troopers enjoyed their rest and abundance of rations. Captain Davenant's mind had been set at ease by the receipt of a letter, which Mrs. Davenant had sent him by one of the men of the village. It told him that she had seen Mr. Conyers, who had obtained a stay of all proceedings against the property, and that she was well, and in as good spirits as she could be in his absence.
A month after they had moved across the river, their quiet life was interrupted by a trooper riding up, just as the party was sitting down to dinner, with an order from General Sarsfield for the troops to be in readiness to march, at daybreak, to form part of a force which was about to undertake an enterprise against the English stationed at Birr. There was silence at the table, after Captain Davenant had read the order.
"Then you must leave us?" Mrs. Conyers said at last.
"I am afraid so, Mrs. Conyers. Yes, sorry as I am that our pleasant time here must come to an end, there is no questioning the order. I have been, in fact, expecting it for the last day or two."
"Then I shall move," Mrs. Conyers said, decidedly. "It will take us a day or two to pack up such valuables as I should like to take away and leave at Limerick, till the return of happier days. When that is accomplished, I shall carry out my intention of making for Galway, and leave the house to take care of itself."
"In the meantime, madam," Captain Davenant said, "I will leave my son and four of the men, who are now convalescent, as a protection. I fancy they are all fit to take the saddle, but I can strain a point a little, and leave them still on the sick list."
"Thank you very much, indeed," Mrs. Conyers said, while a glance of satisfaction passed between Walter and Claire. "That will be a satisfaction. Indeed, I shall feel quite safe, so long as your son is here. I wish now I had moved the things before; but I had hoped that you would have been allowed to remain in quarters here all the winter. Had it not been for that, I should never have decided as I did."
The next morning the troop started.
"The place seems strangely quiet," Walter said, as he strolled out into the garden with Claire, after breakfast. "It seems terrible to think that, in three or four days, it will be deserted altogether, and that you will have gone."
"It is horrid," the girl said, with tears gathering in her eyes. "I hate King William and King James both," she went on petulantly. "Why can't they fight their quarrel out alone, instead of troubling everyone else? I don't know which of them I hate the most."
"But there is a compensation," Walter said with a smile.
"I am sure I don't see any compensation," the girl said. "What do you mean, Walter?"
"I mean," Walter said, "that if they had not quarrelled, we might never have met."
"There is something in that," Claire said softly. "No; I don't know that I ought quite to hate them, after all."
By which it will be seen that Walter Davenant and Claire Conyers had already arrived at a thorough understanding, as to their feelings towards each other. After this, as was natural between young persons so situated, their talk wandered away into the future, and the present was already forgotten.
In the house, everyone was at work. Mrs. Conyers' servants had all returned, when she came back to the house, and these were now busy, with the assistance of Larry and the four troopers left behind, in taking down and packing pictures, taking up carpets, and getting furniture ready for removal. In the afternoon, Walter assisted in the work of packing. As he was dressing for dinner, Larry, as usual, came into his room.
"I suppose, your honour," he said, after putting out Walter's clothes, "you will be setting a watch tonight?"
"Yes, Larry, I was intending to do so. You don't think there is any special occasion for it, do you?"
"I don't know, your honour. We hear tales of the rapparees burning every Protestant house in the district. As long as the troop was here, av coorse the boys kept away; but there is a powerful lot of plunder in the house, and the news that the troop have gone will go through the country quick enough. The boys have had enough to turn them into devils, with what they have gone through, and small blame to them if they take their chances when they find them. We know, yer honour, that Mrs. Conyers and Miss Claire are well-nigh angels, and there is small fear that the people around will lift a finger agin them, in spite of having had their own homes burnt over their heads; but folks from a distance don't know that, and the news that there is a rich Protestant house, all ready for sacking, will travel quick. I hope your honour will get the ladies to move out of the place tomorrow, whether the ould pictures and things are all ready or not."
"Do you think it is as serious as that, Larry?"
"Faith and I do, yer honour. You don't know how bitter the folks are!"
"But there cannot be any danger, Larry, as long as we are here. The rapparees would never attack a house which has the general's protection, and with an officer and some troopers of the king to guard it."
"It's meself would not answer for them," Larry said, shaking his head. "The boys are just disperate, and would care nothing for the protection, unless there were force to back it. They think that, as all the Catholics have been robbed by the Protestants, it's only fair that they should get their turn now; and, if I were your honour, I would lay all my plans out tonight, how to get away and the rest of it, just as if you were assured they would come before the morning."
"Why, you have heard nothing certain, Larry?"
"I have not, or I would tell your honour at once; but I know what the people think and feel, and I know that the rapparees have been plundering and destroying every Protestant house around, and they will guess that the ladies will be moving, now that the troop is gone. Besides, won't they have heard that the news has gone round, for waggons to come to take away the things?"
The earnestness with which Larry spoke convinced Walter that the danger was serious. Larry was not given to magnify danger, and usually treated all risks with carelessness and indifference. Walter knew that he would gather, from the stablemen and the people who brought in provisions, much more as to the state of popular feeling in the country than he was likely to know, and he accordingly went down to dinner grave and preoccupied.
Mrs. Conyers soon noticed the change in his manner, and, as soon as the servants had retired, asked him if he had received any bad news.
"No," he said, trying to speak lightly. "My boy Larry has been trying to scare me about the rapparees, and, although I do not think that there is any danger to be apprehended from them, I do think that it would be just as well to hurry on your preparations, as much as possible, and for you and Claire to go in to Limerick tomorrow afternoon. We can finish the packing up of the goods you wish to take, and any we cannot get off tomorrow can be sent in the next day."
Mrs. Conyers looked grave.
"But we have heard of no rapparees in this neighbourhood, Walter," she said. "We have heard of sad excesses in some parts of the country, but nothing in this neighbourhood."
"There has been small temptation for them about here," Walter said, "for every house within miles was stripped by the Williamites. Catholic or Protestant was all the same to them. Besides, they knew well that Sarsfield's horse would soon have put a stop to that sort of thing. Now, I do not wish to alarm you in the slightest, and I do not think that there is any real cause for anxiety. Even if they are in the neighbourhood, the rapparees will hardly venture an attack upon a house occupied by even a few of our troops. Still, it is always wisest to be prepared, and therefore, I should like for us to arrange exactly what had best be done in the event of an attack. Of course, I shall see that all the doors and the lower windows are securely fastened, and I shall have the men from the stables into the house, so we shall be nine or ten men in all; enough, I hope, for all circumstances. Still, merely as a matter of discussion, let us suppose the worst. Let us imagine the house surrounded, the doors burst in, and the resistance on the point of being overpowered. What would be our best plan for making our escape?
"Do not be frightened, Claire," he went on, seeing how pale the girl had become. "Every general, when he is going to fight a battle, however sure he may be of success, decides upon the route by which his army shall retreat, in case of a defeat, and I am only taking the same precaution."
"If there is to be a retreat made at all," Mrs. Conyers said, "I prefer that it should be made now. Do you really think that there is any real danger of attack?"
"I think that there is danger of attack, Mrs. Conyers; but I have no reason for supposing that there is any particular danger this night."
"Then Claire and I will at once start for the town, under the escort of two of your men. It would be folly, indeed, to run the risk of another attack here. If the house is to be burned, it must be burned. For, if they were beaten off once, they would come again when the house was undefended. As for the things, should all be quiet tonight, they can be sent in tomorrow as arranged. The things that are to go are all got together."
"I do think that the best way," Walter said. "Of course, I shall ride in with you, and hand you over to the friends you are going to, in the town, and shall then come back here again with a light heart. But I own that I am nervous at the thought of you and Claire being here, should the rapparees attack the house."
"But mind, Walter, there is to be no fighting. If they come tonight, I had rather that they took everything, than that you should risk your life in its defence. The silver and valuables we took across before are all safe in Limerick. As for the other things, they can go. Now, mind, we shall not leave unless we have your promise that, if a band of these men come tonight to sack the place, you and your men will offer no resistance."
"If they come in numbers which render successful resistance out of the question, I promise you that we will not draw a trigger, Mrs. Conyers."
"In that case I am satisfied, Walter. Against you and your men these peasants have no quarrel."
Walter at once called Larry.
"Larry, get my horse saddled, and tell Browning to saddle his. Place two pillions behind the saddles. Mrs. Conyers and her daughter are going to ride into Limerick at once."
"The Lord be praised!" Larry said piously. "That's the best news I have heard this many a day."
"And, Larry," Mrs. Conyers said, "tell the three boys in the stable to saddle the three best horses, and ride with us. If we lose everything else, we may as well retain them, for it would not be easy to buy others now."
In ten minutes, all was ready for a start. Walter and the trooper took their places in the saddles, chairs were brought out, and Mrs. Conyers and Claire mounted behind them. Walter had asked Mrs. Conyers to take her seat on the pillion on his horse, but she did not answer, and when Walter turned to see that she was comfortably placed behind him, he found that it was Claire who was seated there.
"Mamma told me to," the girl said. "I suppose she thought this was, perhaps, the last ride we should take together."
"For the present, Claire–you should say, for the present. I hope it will not be long before we are together again.
"And for good," he added, in a low voice.
Mrs. Conyers made no comment, when they dismounted and entered the house of a friend at Limerick, upon Claire's swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, but said "goodbye" lightly to Walter, thanked him for his escort, and said that she hoped to see him, with her household goods, on the following afternoon.
On leaving them, Walter went straight to the house where an officer of his acquaintance was quartered.
"Hullo, Davenant! I didn't expect to see you here at this time of the evening. I heard you were still laid up with your wound."
"That is an old affair now," Walter said. "I am not quite strong again, but there is little the matter now. I have come in to ask you if you will let me have five-and-twenty of your men. I have strong reason to believe that it is likely one of the bands of rapparees will make an attack on Mrs. Conyers' house tonight. The tenants have been asked to send in their waggons, tomorrow, to remove some of the furniture in here, and I think it probable they will try to take what they fancy, before it starts. I have brought Mrs. Conyers and her daughter into the town, but, as I have only four men, I cannot defend the house if it is attacked in any force. I wish you would let me have five-and-twenty men, and a sergeant, just for tonight. I will march them in with the baggage in the afternoon."
"Certainly I will," Captain Donovan said. "I need not disturb the colonel, at this time of the evening, but will take it on myself. There are just that number quartered in the storehouse, close to the gate. I will go down with you, at once, and turn them out and give them orders. It will be a good thing for the rapparees to have a lesson. They bring disgrace upon our cause by their doings."
In a few minutes the men, who had not retired to bed, were turned out.
"You have got a four-mile march before you, boys," Walter said, when they were drawn up; "but there will be a pint of good wine, and some supper for you, when you get there. So step out as briskly as you can."
After a cordial goodnight to Captain Donovan, Walter placed himself at the head of the infantry, and, in little over an hour, arrived at the house. He knocked loudly at the door. A minute later, Larry put his head out of the window above.
"Who is there? What do you want knocking at a peaceful house at this time of night? You had best go away, boys, for the house is chock full of soldiers. We are only waiting for orders to blow you to smithereens."
Walter burst into a laugh.
"Very well done, Larry. It is I, with some soldiers. So you needn't give orders to the men to fire."
Larry gave a cry of satisfaction, and ran down to open the door.
"It's glad I am to see you, Master Walter, entirely. I have been listening ever since you went, and, when I heard the tramp of feet, I made sure it was the boys."
"But I gave orders that there was to be no resistance, Larry."
"And I wasn't going to resist, your honour; but I thought I might just frighten them away."
"Now, Larry, get up a pint of wine for each of these good fellows, and what victuals you can find in the house. We need have no fear of an attack tonight."
When the soldiers had finished their supper, they lay down in the hall. Walter placed a sentry at a window, at each side of the house, and he then lay down on a sofa, for the ride to Limerick and back had greatly fatigued him, much to his surprise, for he had no idea how far his strength had been pulled down.
He was aroused, just as day was breaking, by a loud knocking at the door, and at the same moment a shot was fired from a window above. The soldiers had started to their feet, and seized their arms as he ran out and bade them follow him upstairs. He threw up a window.
"Who are you? And what do you want?"
"Never mind who we are," a voice replied. "We want the door opened, and you had best do it quick."
"Look here, my man," Walter said in a loud, steady voice, "there are thirty soldiers in this house, and, if I give the word, you will get such a volley among you, that half of you will never go home to tell about it, so I warn you to depart quietly."
"It's a lie," the man said. "If you are the officer, you have got only four men, and you know it. We want to do you no harm, and we don't want to harm the ladies; but what's in the house is ours–that's the law of William's troops, and we mean to act up to it."
A chorus of approbation rose from a throng of peasants gathered round the door. A few of them carried muskets, but the greater part were armed with rude pikes.
"Show yourselves at the windows, boys," Walter said to his men. "Level your muskets, but don't fire until I give the word."
It was light enough for those without to make out the threatening figures, which showed themselves at every window, and, with a cry of alarm, they ran back among the shrubs for shelter.
"Now you see," Walter said, "that I have spoken the truth. I have thirty soldiers here, and you know as well as I do what will come of it, if you attempt to break into this house.
"For shame, men! Your deeds bring disgrace on the king's cause, and on our religion. It is not because the scum who march with the Dutchman behave like brutal savages, that we should do the same. There's plenty of work for you, in fighting against the enemies of your country, instead of frightening women and pillaging houses. Return to your homes, or, better still, go and join the king's army, and fight like men for your homes and your religion."
He listened, but there was no answer. The rapparees knew they had no chance of breaking into the house, so defended, and, when Walter ceased, each man slunk away in the darkness.
The next morning, a number of waggons arrived, and Walter, with the aid of the soldiers, had the satisfaction of loading them with everything of any value in the house, and of escorting them without interruption to Limerick. Mrs. Conyers was filled with gratitude, when she heard the events of the night, and how narrowly she and her daughter had escaped another attack. One of the principal tenants had come in with his waggon, and he agreed to move into the house, with his wife and family, until she should return. Seeing that now everything worth taking had been removed, he thought there was little chance of any attempt to destroy the house.
Chapter 12: Winter Quarters
Two or three days later, Captain Davenant returned to Limerick with his troop. He had stopped at the house on his way, and learned there of the move which had been made.
"Well, Walter, so you nearly had to defend Mrs. Conyers against odds, again," he said, as Walter joined him in the marketplace, where the troop was dismounting. "I have come here for a day, only, for we are on our way south. It is thought likely that the enemy's next move may be against Cork, so some of us are detached in that direction.
"To my mind," he went on, after he had seen the troop quartered, in some houses which formerly belonged to the Protestants, but were now used as barracks–"in my opinion, we are wasting precious time. We ought not to allow the enemy to go into winter quarters. Our best season is just coming on. We can stand the wet far better than they can, and we ought not to give them a moment's rest, but should keep our army together, and beat up one garrison after another; threaten the strongest places; compel them to keep constantly on the move; and, before the spring, completely wear out and exhaust those whom we cannot conquer. If England found that she had the whole work to begin over again, she would think twice before she went further.
"These petty German princes would not find their men so ready to embark in a quarrel, with which they have no concern, when they learned that all who had done so had laid their bones in the swamps of Ireland, and, without his mercenaries, William would find it hard to gather an army, for the English themselves have no heart whatever in the war. If we remain inactive all the winter, and enable them to retain their foothold everywhere, fresh reinforcements will arrive in the spring, and so, bit by bit, all Ireland will be won.
"It is disheartening in the extreme, after seeing the enemy retire, repulsed and utterly disheartened, from Athlone and Limerick, to allow them unmolested to rest and gather strength again. If we could but get rid of the French, there would be some hope for us. They have scarce fired a shot, since the war began, and yet they assume superiority over our generals. They thwart us at every turn. They not only refuse to combine in any action, but they prevent our doing so.
"Since the Boyne, our army has lain inactive and has done nothing, although they might have done everything. All Ireland was open to them, on the day when William, with all his forces, sat down here before Limerick. Why, they could have marched straight for Dublin and captured it, before William heard that they had crossed the Shannon. They might have cut off his supplies from Waterford. They might have starved him out in his camp here. They have had the game in their hands, and they have allowed it to slip altogether through their fingers. The only hope I have, now, is that before the spring the French will go. It is but too clear that Louis has no intention, whatever, of helping us in earnest. Had he chosen he could, any time during the last six months, have landed an army here, which would have decided the struggle. Instead of that, he has sent five thousand men, and had in return as many of our best soldiers; and the officers he sent seem to have been furnished with secret instructions, not only to do nothing themselves, but to prevent us from doing anything."
"Whom would you like to see in command, father?"
"I should not care much, Walter, so that it was one man. I had rather have any soldier you might take at random from our army, so that he possessed a fair share of common sense, than the chaos which now prevails; but, of course, the man whom we would rather have is Sarsfield. Whether he is a great general or not, we have no means of knowing, for he has never yet had the slightest opportunity of showing it; but I do not think, myself, that he has made the most of what chances he has had, save that one dash against the artillery convoy. He has done nothing; and, as the cavalry are under his command, and he could, if he chose, snap his fingers at the pretensions of the French and act independently, I think he might have done far more than he has done. Still, he is our most prominent leader, and he possesses the confidence of the Irish of all classes. If he were in supreme command there would, I am sure, be a complete change in our tactics. Instead of waiting everywhere to be attacked, we should take the offensive, and, even if we were unable to meet William's forces in pitched battles, and I believe that we are perfectly capable of doing so, we should be able to harass and exhaust them, to such a point that William would be only too glad to grant us any terms we might demand, to bring the war to an end."
After having dined, Captain Davenant went with Walter to call upon Mrs. Conyers. Hearing that he was about to march with his troop to Cork, Mrs. Conyers said:
"Oh, Captain Davenant, will you not take us under your protection there? I am afraid of travelling with Claire to Galway, in the present disturbed state of the country, and I should find it easier to take a passage to England from Cork than from Galway."
"You certainly would, Mrs. Conyers. There is no formal war between England and Ireland, and trading vessels still ply between Cork and Bristol. I agree with you that it would not be safe for two Protestant ladies to travel, without protection, from here to Galway, and I shall be only too glad for you to journey with us. Your daughter, I know, can ride any of the country ponies; and for yourself–"
"I can ride, too, if there is an occasion. One of our horses is perfectly quiet, and I have often ridden him by the side of Mr. Conyers, so there will be no difficulty on that score."
"In that case," Captain Davenant said, "consider the matter as arranged. Will you be ready to start tomorrow, early?"
"Certainly, Captain Davenant; I have no preparations to make. All our furniture–which, thanks to Walter, was saved–has been stowed away in the cellars of a warehouse here, and is safe unless William returns and batters the whole town to pieces. The silver and other valuables our friends here will take care of, till better times, so we have only to pack two valises and mount. The servants will all find situations here. My daughter's maid, Bridget, and two or three others have offered to accompany us to England, but we have decided to take no one. Directly we get to Bristol, I shall write to my husband, who has given me an address both in London and Dublin, so that he will doubtless join us in a very short time."
The party started the next morning, and reached Cork without adventure, as there were no English troops in that part of the country. Three days after their arrival, Mrs. Conyers took a passage for herself and Claire in a trader about to sail for Bristol. The evening before they sailed, Mrs. Conyers had a long talk with Captain Davenant, while the two young people had slipped off for a last walk together.
"Of course, Captain Davenant," she began, "you have seen, as well as I have, how things stand between Claire and Walter. They are both very young, but the strange circumstances of the times, and the manner in which they have been thrown together, have combined to render their position peculiar, and I believe, nay, I am sure, that on both sides their affection is deep and will be lasting."
"I quite agree with you, Mrs. Conyers, at any rate as far as my son is concerned. Walter has never spoken to me on the subject. I suppose fathers and sons are less given to confidences of this sort than mothers and daughters. But that Walter is deeply and earnestly attached to your daughter is unquestionable, and, indeed, it would be singular were it otherwise. I have stood passive in the matter, simply because I saw that you took no steps to keep them apart; and you could not but have seen, at an early period of their acquaintance, in what direction matters were tending."
"Frankly," Mrs. Conyers said, "I gave the matter no thought, during your first stay with us. I had regarded Claire as a child, and it did not, at first, occur to me that there could be any danger of her falling seriously in love, for years to come. When my eyes were opened to the true state of things, and I found my little girl had lost her heart, I could have wished it otherwise.
"I do not mean as to worldly matters," she went on hastily, seeing that Captain Davenant was about to speak. "That weighed absolutely nothing with me. Indeed, they may be considered to be well matched in that respect. If the war is decided in favour of King William, Claire will be a rich heiress. If, on the other hand, your cause triumph, you will regain your confiscated estates, while we shall lose ours. So that there is, I consider, no inequality whatever in their position. The difficulty, of course, to which I allude is their religion. This is naturally a grave obstacle, and I fear that my husband will regard it as such, even more strongly than I do. He is, however, extremely attached to Claire, and will, I feel sure, when he sees that her happiness is at stake, come round to my views of the matter.
"There are," she said with a smile, "Catholics and Catholics, just as there are Protestants and Protestants. I would rather see Claire in her grave than married to many Catholics I know; but neither you nor Walter are bigots."
"No, indeed," Captain Davenant said. "We came over to this country when Catholicism was the religion of all England, and we have maintained the religious belief of our fathers. I own that what I may call political Protestantism is hateful to me; but between such Catholicism as mine, and such Protestantism as yours, I see no such broad distinctions as should cause us to hate each other."
"That is just my view," Mrs. Conyers agreed. "The differences between the creeds are political rather than religious, and, in any case, I consider that when neither of the parties is bigoted, the chances of happiness are greater in the case where the man is a Catholic and the woman a Protestant, than in the opposite case."
"I think so, too," Captain Davenant said. "At any rate, I do not think that Walter and Claire would be likely to quarrel over their respective opinions."
"I think not," Mrs. Conyers agreed with a smile. "I do wish, with all my heart, that it had been otherwise; but, as it is not so, I for my part am determined to make the best of the circumstances. They are both young, and it is possible that they may, in time, come to think alike, one way or the other. I am not one of those who think that there is but one way to heaven; and, should Walter some day win Claire over to his way of thinking, I shall not consider that she has forfeited her chances."
"It is quite as likely to be the other way," Captain Davenant said. "Walter is a good lad, and a brave one, but, with all Claire's pretty winning ways, I question if the young lady has not more will of her own, and more mind, than Walter has. I hope they may agree each to go their own way, and I think that, if they continue to live in this country, they will probably do so, for here, unhappily, political differences build up a wall between the two branches of Christianity. But, if it should come that they should some day leave this unhappy country, and settle in England, where the same ill feeling does not exist, there is no saying what may happen."
"Well, at any rate, Captain Davenant, it is satisfactory that our views on the subject agree, and that we are both willing to make the best of what we cannot but consider to be a misfortune. But here come the young people. I have no doubt," she laughed, "that they have been swearing vows of eternal fidelity."
"Well, we were young ourselves, once, and we are not too old, yet, Mrs. Conyers, to feel enjoyment in the happiness of these young people."
The next morning, Mrs. Conyers and Claire sailed for England, and the military events, which shortly afterwards took place, left Walter little time for thought on other subjects.
