ORANGE AND GREEN

Author of "With Lee in Virginia;" "With Cliv« in
India;" "In Freedom's Cause;" "The Lion
of the North;" "With Wolfe in Canada;"
"Facing Death;" Etc.
WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY GOR-
DON BROWNE.

A TALE OF THE BOYNE AND LIMERICK.
By G. A. HENTY,
NEW YORK:
HTIEST & COMPANY,
PUBLISHEKS.






PREFACE.
My Deae Lads: The subject of Ireland is one which
has for some years been a vefy prominent one, and is
likely, I fear, for some time yet to occupy a large share of
public attention. For' many years the laws in Ireland
and the rights of Irishmen have been identical with those
which we enjoy in England. The discontent manifested
in the troubles of recent years has had its root in an
older sense of grievance, for which there was, unhappily,
only too abundant reason. The great proportion of the
soil of Ireland was taken from the original owners and
handed over to Cromwell's followers, and lor years the
land that still remained in the hands of Irishmen was
subject to the covetousness of a party of greedy in-
triguers, who had sufficient influence to sway the pro-
ceedings of government. The result was the rising of
Ireland, nominally in defense of the rights of King
James, but really an effort of despair on the part of those
who deemed their religion, their property, and even their
lives threatened by this absolute ascendency of the Prot-
estant party in the government of the country. I have
drawn my information from a variety of sources; but as I
wished you to see the matter from the Irish point of view
I have drawn most largely from the history of those
events by Mr. O'Driscol, published sixty years ago.
There is, however, but little difference of opinion be-
tween Irish and English authors as to the general course
of the war, or as to the atrocious conduct of William's
army of foreign mercenaries toward the people of Ireland.
Your sincerely,
G. A. HENTY.





CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAOB
A. Shipwreck 1
CHAPTER II.
For James or William 22
CHAPTER III.
The King in Ireland 38
CHAPTER IV.
The Siege of Derry 63
CHAPTER V.
The Relief of Derry 72
CHAPTER VI.
Dundalk 93
CHAPTER VII.
The Coming Battle 108
CHAPTER VIII.
Boyne Water 125
CHAPTER IX.
Pleasant Quarters 146
CHAPTER X.
A Cavalry Raid 165
CHAPTER XI.
The First Siege of Limerick 183
CHAPTER XII.
Winter Quarters 200
CHAPTER XIII.
A Dangerous Mission 314


vi CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIV. paos
Athlone 237
CHAPTER XV. ...
A Fortunate Recognition 262
CHAPTER XVI.
Peace 285


ORANGE AND GREEN
CHAPTER I.
A SHIPWRECK.
A few miles to the south of Bray Head, on the crest
of a hill falling sharply down to the sea, stood Castle
Davenant, a conspicuous landmark to mariners skirting
the coast on their way from Cork or Waterford to Dublin
Bay. Castle Davenant it was called, although it had
long since cased to be defensible; but when it was built
by Sir Godfrey Davenant, who came over with Strongbow,
it was a place of strength. Strongbow's followers did well
for themselves. They had reckoned on hard fighting,
but the Irish were too much divided among themselves
to oppose any serious resistance to the invaders. Strong-
bow had married the daughter of Dermid, Prince of
Leinster, and at the death of that prince succeeded him,
and the greater portion of Leinster was soon divided
among the knights and men-at-arms who had followed
his standard. Godfrey Davenant, who was a favorite of
the earl, had no reason to be dissatisfied with his share,
which consisted of a domain including many square
miles of fertile land stretching back from the seacoast.
Here for many generations his descendants lived, for
the most part taking an active share in the wars and dis-
turbances which, with scarcely an interval of rest,
agitated the country. The castle had continued to de-
serve its name until forty years before the time this story


2
ORANGE AND GREEN.
commences, when Cromwell's gunners had battered a
breach in it and left it a heap of smoking ruins. Walter
Davenant had died, fighting to the last, in his own hall.
At that time the greater part of his estate was bestowed
upon officers and soldiers in Cromwell's army, among
whom no less than four million acres of Irish land were
divided.
Had it not been that Walter Davenant's widow was an
Englishwoman and a relation of General Ireton, the
whole of the estate would have gone; but his influence
was sufficient to secure for her the possession of the ruins
of her home and a few hundred acres surrounding it.
Fortunately the dowry which Mrs. Davenant had brought
her husband was untouched, and a new house was reared
within the ruins of the castle, the new work being dove-
tailed with the old.
The family now consisted of Mrs. Davenant, a lady
sixty-eight years old; her son Fergus, who was when
Cromwell devastated the land a child of five years; his
wife Katherine, daughter of Lawrence McCarthy, a large
land-owner near Cork; and their two sons, Walter, a lad
of sixteen, and Godfrey, twelve years old.
Two miles west of the castle stood a square-built stone
house, surrounded by solidly constructed barns and out-
buildings. This was the abode of old Zephaniah White-
foot, the man upon whom had been bestowed the broad
lands of Walter Davenant. Zephaniah had fought stoutly
as lieutenant in one of Cromwell's regiments of horse,
and had always considered himself an ill-treated man,
because although he had obtained all the most fertile por-
tion of the Davenant estate, the old family were per-
mitted to retain the castle and a few hundred acres by
the sea.
He was one of those who contended that the Amalekites
should be utterly destroyed by the sword, and he consid-


ORANGE AND GREEN.
3
ered that the retention of the corner of their domains by
the Davenants was a direct flying in the face of the
Providence who had given them into the hands of the
faithful. Not that had he obtained possession of the
ruined castle Zephaniah Whitefoot would .have repaired
it or set up his abode there. The followers of Cromwell
had no eyes for the beautiful. They were too much in
earnest to care aught for the amenities of life, and
despised as almost sinful anything approximating to
beauty either in dress, person, or surroundings. The
houses that they reared in this land of which they had
taken possession were bare to the point of ugliness, and
their interior was as cold and hard as was the exterior.
Everything was for use, nothing for ornament. Scarce
a flower was to be seen in their gardens, and laughter was
a sign of levity to be sternly repressed.
Their isolation in the midst of a hostile population
caused them no concern whatever. They cared for no
society or companionship save that of their own house-
holds, which they ruled with a rod of iron, and an occa-
sional gathering for religious purposes with the other
settlers of their own faith. They regarded the Irish as
Papists doomed to everlasting perdition, and indeed con-
signed to that fate all outside their own narrow sect.
Such a people could no more mix with the surrounding
population than oil with water. As a rule they tilled as
much ground in the immediate vicinity of their houses as
they and their families could manage, and the rest of the
land which had fallen into their possession they let either
for a money payment, or more often for a portion of the
crops raised upon it, to such natives as were willing to
hold it on these terms.
The next generation had fallen away somewhat from
their father's standards. It is not in human nature to
stand such a strain as their families had been subjected


5
"You are less than a man, Jabez," she would say to
him indignantly, "to put up at your age with being
lectured as if you were a child. Parental obedience is all
very well, and I hope I was always obedient to my father;
but when it comes to a body not being permitted to have
a soul of his own it is going too far. If you had told nie
that, when I became your wife, I was to become the in-
mate of a dungeon for the rest of my existence, I
wouldn't have had you, not if you had been master of all
the broad lands of Leinster."
But though unable to rouse her husband into making
an effort for some sort of freedom, Hannah Whitefoot
had battled more successfully in behalf of her son John.
"You have had the management of your son, sir, and
I will manage mine," she said. "I will see that he does
not grow up a reprobate or a Papist, but at least he shall
grow up a man, and his life shall not be as hateful as
mine is if I can help it."
Many battles had already been fought on this point,
but in the end Hannah Whitefoot triumphed. Although
her husband never himself opposed his father's authority,
he refused absolutely to use his own to compel his wife
to submission.
"You know, sir," he said, "you had your own way
with my mother and me, and I say nothing for or against
it. Hannah has other ideas. No one can say that she is
not a good woman, or that she fails in her duty to me.
All people do not see life from the same point of view.
She is just as conscientious in her way as you are in yours;
she reads her Bible and draws her own conclusions from
it just as you do; and as she is the mother of the child,
and as I know she will do her best for it, I shall not in-
terfere with her way of doing it."
And so Hannah won at last, and although according to
modern ideas the boy's training would have been consid-


6
ORANGE AND GREEN.
ered strict in the extreme, it differed very widely from
that which his father had had before him. Sounds of
laughter such as never had been heard within the walls
of the house since Zephaniah laid stone upon stone some-
times issued from the room where Hannah and the child
were together alone, and Zephaniah was out with Jabez
about the farm; and Hannah herself benefited as much
as did the child by her rebellion against the authorities.
Jabez, too, was conscious that home was brighter and
pleasanter than it had been, and when Zephaniah burst
into a torrent of indignation when he discovered that the
child had absolutely heard some fairy stories from its
mother, Jabez said quietly:
"Father, I wish no dispute. I have been an obedient
son to you, and will continue so to my life's end; but if
you are not satisfied with the doings of my wife, I will
depart with her. Tbere are'plenty who will be glad to
let me a piece of land; and if I only work there as hard
as I work here, I shall assuredly be able to support her
and my boy. So let this be the last word between us."
This threat put an end to the struggle. Zephaniah
had, like most of his class, a keen eye to the main chance^
and could ill spare the services of Jabez and his thrifty
and hard-working wife, and henceforth, except by
pointed references in the lengthy morning and evening
prayers to the backsliding in his household, he held hi3
peace.
Between the Castle and Zephaniah Whitefoot there
had never been any intercourse. The dowager Mrs.
Davenant hated the Cromwellite occupier of her estate,
not only as a usurper but as the representative of the
man who had slain her husband. She never alluded to
his existence, and had always contrived in her rides and
walks to avoid any point from which she could obtain so
much as a distant view of the square, ugly house which


7
formed a blot on the fair landscape. She still spoke of
the estate as if it extended to its original boundaries, and
ignored absolutely the very existence of Zephaniah White-
foot and all that belonged to him. But when her son
and Jabez grew to man's estate, at about the same period,
they necessarily at times crossed each other's paths; and
as in them the prejudices and enmities of their elders
were somewhat softened, they would, when they met on
the road, exchange a passing nod or a brief "Good-morn-
ing."
Another generation still, and the boys of the two
houses met as friends. Thanks to his mother's success-
ful rebellion, John Whitefoot grew up a hearty, healthy
boy, with a bright eye, a merry laugh, and a frank, open
bearing.
"One would think," his grandfather remarked angrily
one day, as the boy went out whistling gayly to fetch in
a young colt Jabez was about to break, "that John was
the son of a malignant, or one of the men of Charles
Stuart, rather than of a God-fearing tiller of the soil."
"So long as he fears God, and walks in the right way,
he is none the worse for that, father," Jabez said stoutly;
"and even you would hardly say that his mother has
failed in her teachings in that respect. I do not know
that so long as one has the words of Scripture in his heart,
he is any the better for having them always on his lips;
in other respects I regret not that the boy should have a
spirit and a fire which I know I lack myself. Who can
say what may yet take place here! The Stuarts are again
upon the throne, and, with James' leaning toward Papacy,
there is no saying whether some day all the lands which
Cromwell divided among his soldiers may not be restored
to their original possessors, and in that case our sons may
have to make their way in other paths of life than ours;
and if it be so, John will assuredly be more likely to
make his way than I should have done."


8
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"We would never surrender, save with our lives, what
our swords have won. We will hold the inheritance
which the Lord has given us,""the old man said fiercely.
"Yes, father; and so said those whose lands we have
inherited; so said Walter Davenant, of whose lands we
are possessed. It will be as God wills it. He has given
to us the lands of others, and it may be that he will take
them away again. The times have changed, father, and
the manners; and I am well pleased to see that John,
while I am sure he is as true to the faith as I am myself,
will take broader and, perhaps, happier views of life than
I have done."
Zephaniah gave a snort of displeasure. He grieved
continually at the influence which his daughter-in-law
exercised over her son, and which now extended clearly
to her husband; but Jabez was now a man of forty-five,
and had lately shown that, in some respects at least, he
intended to have his way, while Zephaniah himself,
though still erect and strong, was well-nigh eighty.
"Remember, Jabez," he said, "that it goes hard with
those who, having set their hands to the plow, turn
aside."
"I shall not turn aside, father," Jabez said quietly. "I
have gone too long along a straight furrow to change
now; but I am not ill pleased that my son should have a
wider scope. I trust and believe that he will drive his
furrow as straight as we have done, although it may not
be exactly in the same line."
But neither Zephaniah nor old Mrs. Davenant knew
that their respective grandsons had made friends, al-
though both the boys' fathers knew and approved of it,
although for somewhat different reasons.
"The Whitefoot boy," Mr. Davenant had said to his
wife, "is, I fancy from what I have seen of him, of a dif-
ferent type to his father and grandfather. I met him


ORANGE AND GREEN.
9
the other day when I was out, and he spoke as naturally
and outspokenly as Walter himself. He seems to have
got rid of the Puritanical twang altogether. At any rate
he will do Walter no harm; and, indeed, I should say
that there was a solid good sense about him which will do
Master Walter, who is somewhat disposed to be a mad-
cap, much good. Anyhow he is a better companion for
the boy than the lads down in the village; and there is
no saying, wife, how matters may go in this unhappy
country. It may be that we may come to our own again;
it may be that we may lose what is left to us. Anyhow,
it can do no harm to Walter that he should have as a
friend one in the opposite camp."
Somewhat similar was the talk between Hannah and
Jabez, although in their case the wife was the speaker.
"John has told me, Jabez, that he has several times
met young Davenant, and that the boy is disposed to be
friendly with him; and he has asked me to speak with
you, to know whether you have any objection to his mak-
ing a friend of him."
"What do you say, Hannah?" Jabez asked cautiously.
"My father, I fear, would not approve of it."
"Your father need know nothing about it, Jabez. He
is an old man and a good man, but he clings to the ways
of his youth, and deems that things are still as they were
when he rode behind Cromwell. I would not deceive
him did he ask; but I do not see that the matter need be
mentioned in his presence. It seems to me that it will
be good for John to be friends with this boy. He is
almost without companionship; we have acquaintance, it
is true, among the other settlers of our faith, but such
companionship as he has there will not open his mind or
broaden his views. We are dull people here for a lad.
Had we had other children it might have been different.
"I have heard my mother speak of her life as a girl in


10
ORANGE AND GREEN.
England, and assuredly it was brighter and more varied
than ours; and it seems not to me that the pleasures
which they had were sinful, although I have been taught
otherwise; but as I read my Bible, I cannot see that in-
nocent pleasures are in any way denied to the Lord's
people; and such pleasure as the companionship of the
young Davenant can give John will, I think, be alto-
gether for his good."
"But the lad is a Papist, Hannah."
"He is, Jabez; but boys, methinks, do not argue among
themselves upon points of doctrine; and I have no fear
that John will ever be led from the right path, nor in-
deed, though it is presumption for a woman to say so, do
I feel so sure as our ministers, that ours is the only path
to heaven. "We believe firmly that it is the best path,
but others believe as firmly in their paths; and I cannot
think, Jabez, that all mankind, save those who are within
the fold of our church, can be condemned by the good
Lord to perdition."
"Your words are bold, Hannah, and I know not what
my father and the elders of the church would say were
they to hear them. As to that I will not argue, but me-
thinks that you are right in saying that the companion-
ship of the young Davenant will do our boy no harm, but
the lad must have his father's consent. Though I reckon
that we could count pounds where they could count shil-
lings, yet in the opinion of the world they assuredly stand
above us.- Moreover, as it is only in human nature that
they should regard us as those who have despoiled them,
John must have no dealings with their son without their
consent; if that be given I have naught to say against it."
And so John told Walter next time they met, and
learned in reply that Walter had already obtained his
father's consent to going out rambles with him; ao the
boys became companions and friends, and each benefited


ORANGE AND GREEN.
11
by it. To John, the bright, careless ease and gayety of
Walter's talk and manner were at first strange indeed,
after the restraint and gloom of his home; but in time ho
caught something of his companion's tone, until, as has
been said, his altered manner and bearing struck and
annoyed his grandfather.
On the other hand, the earnestness and solidity of
John's character was of benefit to Walter; and his simple
truthfulness, the straightforwardness of his principles,
and his blunt frankness in saying exactly what he
thought, influenced Walter to quite as large an extent as
he had influenced John.
So the companionship between the lads had gone on'
for two years. In fine weather they had met once or
twice a week and had taken long rambles together, or,
throwing themselves down on the slopes facing the sea,
had talked over subjects of mutual interest. Walter's
education was far in advance of that of his companion,
whose reading, indeed, had been confined to the Scrip-
tures, and the works of divines and controversialists of
his own church, and whose acquirements did not extend
beyond the most elementary subjects.
To him everything that Walter know was novel and
strange; and he eagerly devoured, after receiving permis-
sion from his mother, the books which Walter lent him,
principally histories, travels, and the works of Milton
and Shakespeare. As to the latter, Hannah had at first
some scruples; and it was only after setting herself, with
great misgivings as to the lawfulness of the act, to peruse
the book that she suffered her son to read it. The
volume only contained some ten of Shakespeare's plays;
and Hannah, on handing the book: to her son, said:
"I do not pretend, John, to understand all that is
written there, but I cannot see that there is evil in it.
There are assuredly many noble thoughts and much


12
ORANGE AND GREEN.
worldly wisdom. Did I think that ycur life would he
passed here, I should say that it were better for you not
to read a hook which gives a picture of a life so different
from what yours would he; but none can say what your
iot may he. And although I have heard much about the
wickedness of the stage, I can see no line in this book
which could do harm to you. I do not see it can do you
much good, John, but neither do I see that it can do you
any harm; therefore, if you have set your mind on it,
read it, my boy."
It was a stormy evening in the first week of November,
1688. The wind was blowing in fierce gusts, making
every door and casement quiver in Davenant Castle,
while between the gusts the sound of the deep roar of the
sea on the rocks far below could be plainly heard. Mrs.
Davenant was sitting in a high-backed chair on one side
of the great fireplace, in which a pile of logs was blazing.
Her son had just laid down a book which he could no
longer see to read, while her daughter-in-law was indus-
triously knitting. Walter was wandering restlessly be-
tween the fire and the window, looking out at the flying
clouds, through which the moon occasionally struggled.
"Do sit down, Walter," his mother said at last. "You
certainly are the most restless creature I ever saw."
"Not always, mother; but I cannot help wondering
about that ship we saw down the coast making for the
bay. She was about ten miles out, and seemed to be
keeping her course when I saw her last half an hour ago;
but I can see by the clouds that the wind has drawn
round more to the north, and I doubt much whether she
will be able to gain the bay."
"In that case, Walter," his father said, "if her captain
knows his business he will wear round and run down for
Waterford. I agree with you," he continued, after walk-
ing to the window and watching the clouds, "that a vessel


ORANGR ANT) OREEN.
13
coming from the soutli will hardly weather Bray Head
with tbis wind."
He had scarcely spoken when the door opened, and one
of the servants entered.
"Your honor, a boy has just come up from the village;
he says that John Considine sent him to tell you that a
large ship is driving in to shore, and that he thinks she
will strike not far from the village."
"Why, on earth," Mr. Davenant exclaimed, "doesn't
he tack and stand out to sea!"
"The boy says her foremast is gone,'and they have lost
all management of her."
"In that case God help them! there is little chance for
them on this rocky coast; however, I will go down at
once and see if anything can be done. Katherine, do
you see that there are plenty of hot blankets ready in
case any of the poor fellows are washed ashore. I shall,
of course, send them up here. I suppose, Walter, you
will come down with me."
But Walter had already disappeared, having slipped oS
as soon as he had heard the message.
"Don't let that boy get into mischief, Fergus," old
Mrs. Davenant said.
"I am afraid, mother, he is beyond me," her son said
with a smile. "No Davenant yet could ever keep out of
mischief, and Walter is no exception; however, fortu-
nately for us, we generally get out of scrapes as easily as
we get into them."
"Not always, Fergus," she said, shaking her head.
"No, not always, mother; but exceptions, you know,
prove the rule."
"Well, Godfrey, do you want to go?" he asked the
younger boy, who had risen from the table, and was look-
ing eagerly at him. "Of course you do; but, mind, you
must keep close to me. Ah, Father John!" he broke off


14
ORANGE AND GREEN.
as an ecclesiastic, muffled up to the throat in wrappings,
entered the room, "are you going down too?"
"Assuredly I am, Fergus; you don't think a trifle of
wind would keep me from doing my duty?"
In another two minutes the two men and Godfrey
sallied out. They staggered as the wind struck them,
and Godfrey clung to his father's arm. Not a word was
spoken as they made their way down the steep descent to
the village, which consisted of about a dozen fishermen's
huts. Indeed, speaking would have been useless, for no
word would have been beard above the howling of the
storm.
The vessel was visible to them as they made their way
down the hill. She was a complete wreck. The light of
the moon was sufficient for them to see that she had, as
the boy said, lost her foremast. Her sails were in rib-
bons, and she was laboring heavily in the sea, each wave
that struck her breaking over her bows and sweeping
along her deck. There was no hope for her; she could
neither tack nor wear, and no anchor would hold for a
moment on that rocky bottom in such a sea.
On reaching the village they joined a group of fisher-
men who were standing under the shelter of the end of a
cottage.
"Can nothing be done, Considine?" Mr. Davenant
shouted in the ear of one of the fishermen.
"Not a thing, yer honor; she has just let drop one of
her anchors."
"But they could not hope it would hold there," Mr.
Davenant said.
"Not they, your honor, onless they were mad. They
hoped it would hoult so as to bring her head round; but
the cable went as soon as the strain came. I saw her
head go sharp up to the wind, and then fall off again;
not that it would have made much difference in the end,


ORANGE AND GREEN.
15
though it would have given them half an hour longer of
life."
"Could we get a boat off with a line if she strikes?"
"Look at the sea, yer honor. Mr. Walter has been
asking us; but there's no boat could get through that
surf, not if all Ireland dipinded on it."
"Where is Walter?"
"Sure and I can't tell ye, yer honor. He was here a
few minutes since; but what's come of him is more nor I
can tell ye."
"He went off with Larry Doolan," a boy who was
standing next to the fisherman shouted.
"Then as sure as fate they are up to some mischief,"
Mr. Davenant said. "Walter is bad enough by himself,
but with Larry to help him it would take a regiment to
look after them."
"They can't be in much mischief to-night, yer honor,"
the fisherman said. "Look, sir, she's coming in fast.
She draws a power of water, and she will strike in a minute
or two."
"She seems crowded with men. Can nothing be done
to help them?" the priest asked.
"Nothing, your reverence. Praying for them is the
only thing that can help the poor sowls now."
"You are sure it's not possible to launch a boat, Con-
sidine?"
"Look for yourself, yer honor. There's not a boat on
the coast that could get through them breakers. There
she goes."
Even above the noise of the storm a loud cry was heard
and the crash of breaking timber, as with the shock the
main and mizzen masts, weakened by the loss of the fore-
mast, went over the sides. The next great wave drove
the vessel forward two or three fathoms.
"That's her last move," Considine said. "The rocks
will be through her bottom now."


16
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"They are off," a boy shouted running up.
"Who are off?" Considine asked.
"The young squire and Larry Doolan."
"Off where?" Mr. Davenant exclaimed.
"Off in the curragh, yer honor. Me and Tim Connolly
helped them carry it round the Nose, and they launched
her there. These they are. Sure you can see them for
yourself."
The party rushed out from the shelter, and there, a
quarter of a mile along on the right, a small boat was
seen making its way over the waves.
"Be jabers, yer honor, and they have done it," the
boatmen said as Mr. Davenant gave a cry of alarm.
"I didn't think of the curragh, and if I had she could
not have been launched here. Mr. Walter has hit on the
only place where there was a chance. Under the shelter
of the Nose it might be done, but nowhere else."
The Nose was a formidable reef of rocks running off
from a point and trending to the south. Many a ship
had gone ashore on its jagged edge, but with the wind
from the northeast it formed somewhat of a shelter, and
it was under its lee that Walter and Larry had launched
the curragh.
The curragh is still found on the Irish coast. It is a
boat whose greatest width is at the stern, so much so
that it looks like a boat cut in two. The floor is almost
flat, and rises so much to the bow that three or four feet
are entirely out of water. They are roughly built, and
by no means fast, but they are wonde/fully good sea-
boats for their size, and can live in seas which would
swamp a boat of ordinary build. Walter had, with the
assistance of Larry Doolan, built this boat for going out
fishing. It was extremely light, being a mere framework
covered with tarred canvas. As soon as Walter had
reached the village, and found that the fishermen con-


ORANGE AND GREEN.
17
sidered that no boat could possibly be put out, he had
found and held a consultation with Larry.
"Do you think the curragh could go out, Larry?"
"Not she, yer honor. She would just be broke up
like an eggshell with them breakers."
"But she might float if wo got beyond them, Larry."
"She might that," Larry agreed, "seeing how light
she is."
"Well, will you go with me, Larry?"
"Sure and I would go anywhere with yer honor, but
she could never get out."
"I am thinking, Larry, that if we carry her along
beyond the Nose we might find it calmer there."
"Well, we might," Larry agreed. "At any rate we
can try."
So, calling together two or three other boys, they had
lifted the light boat and carried it with its oars along the
shore until they got beyond the Nose; but even here it
was a formidable business to launch her, for although the
rocks broke the full force of the seas, throwing the spray
hundreds of feet up in the air, the waves poured through
the intervals, and dashed over the lower rocks in such
masses that formidable waves rolled in to the shore.
After much consultation the boys agreed that their
best plan was to scramble out on the rocks as far as pos-
sible so as to launch the boat beyond the break of the
surf.
It was a hazardous enterprise, and the whole party
were several times nearly washed into the water as they
struggled out. At last they reached a spot beyond which
they could go no further, as a deep passage was here
broken in the rock. But they were now beyond the line
of breakers. After several vain efforts to launch the
boat, in each of which she narrowly escaped destruction,
they agreed that the only plan was, after a wave passed,


lb
ORANGE AND GUEEN.
to drop her on to a flat rock, which then showed above
the water, and to jump into her.
The two boys on shore were to hold the head rope to
prevent her being dashed toward the land by the next
wave, while Larry worked with the oars to get her away
from the ridge. The moment the wave had passed
under them the head rope was to be thrown off. This
plan was carried out. The two boys had but just time to
jump into the boat and get out their oars when the next
wave lifted the boat high on its crest. The lads holding
the rope were nearly torn from the rock, but they held
on till the strain ceased, then they threw in the rope, and
Walter and Larry bent to their oars.
"Row easy, Larry," Walter said as the next wave
passed under them, "and put her head to each wave."
Terrible as was the sea, the curragh floated buoyantly
over it, though several times, as she rose to the steep
waves, Walter thought that she would be thrown right
over. The worst part of their task was over when they
got beyond the end of the Nose, for up to that point
they were forced to row across the course of the waves,
and continually to turn the boat to face the great masses
of water which ran between the rocks. But once beyond
the end of the reef they turned her head north and
rowed straight toward the ship.
"She has struck, Master Walter," Larry said, glancing
over his shoulder, "and her masts are gone."
"Lay out, then, Larry, there's no time to lose."
But in spite of their efforts the boat moved but slowly
through the water, for the wind caught her high bow
with such force that at times it needed all their strength
and skill to keep her head straight. At last they were
close to the ship, which already showed signs of break-
ing up. They ranged up alongside of it.
"Fasten a line to a keg ana throw it in," Walter
shouted.


ORANQE AND GREEN.
19
In a minute a keg was thrown overboard with a line
attached. As soon as it drifted a little way from the
vessel's side they hauled it into the boat.
"Now, back, Larry; these waves would sink us in a
moment if we turn our stern to them."
The wreck lay within a hundred yards of the shore,
and the boat backed until close to the line where the
waves toppled over in a torrent of foam.
"Now, Larry, keep her steady; we are as near as we
dare go."
Then Walter stood up in the boat, took the keg and a
foot or two of line in his hand, and waited till the next
wave passed under the boat. He swung the keg round
his head and hurled it toward the shore. Then he
dropped into his seat and gave two or three vigorous
strokes, and, when safely beyond the line of breakers,
sat quiet and watched the result.
"They have missed it the first time," he said. "Look!
they are going to run into the surf for it."
The group on the shore joined hands, and the next
time the keg was borne forward in the tumble of foam
Considine ran forward and seized it. The back rush took
him from his feet, but the others held on, and before the
next wave came the line was safely on the beach. A
strong cable was soon pulled ashore and firmly fixed. A
light line was attached to it, and the sailors at once began
to pass along.
"Shall we turn back now, Master Walter?"
"We will keep near the wreck for a few minutes
longer, Larry. She can't hold together long, and maybe
we can pick somebody up."
The vessel was indeed breaking up fast. Her stern
was burst in, and the waves, as they poured in at the
opening, smashed up the deck. Many of the crew had
been washed overboard, and had instantly disappeared.


20
ORANGE ANL GREEN.
As the .boat approached the wreck an officer who had
climbed the shrouds shouted out:
"Will your boat hold another?"
"Yes," Walter shouted back, "she will hold two
more."
"I will try and swim to you," the officer said.
He threw off the long cloak in which he was wrapped,
and unbuckled his sword and let it drop, unbuttoned and
took off his military coat, and with some difficulty got
rid of his high boots.
"Can you come a bit nearer?" he shouted.
"We daren't," Walter said. "A touch from one of
those floating timbers would send us to the bottom."
The officer waved his hand and then sprang headfore-
most into the sea. So long was he in the water that
Walter began to think he must have struck against some-
thing and was not coming up again, when suddenly he
appeared within twenty yards of the boat. They rowed
toward him instantly.
"You must get in over the stern," Walter said.
The officer was perfectly cool, and, placing his hands
on the stern, drew himself partly over it, and Walter,
grasping his hand, dragged him in. No sooner was he
in than Walter again hailed the wreck.
"We can carry one more."
But those who were still on board were huddled up in
the bow waiting their turn for the rope.
"There is a big un coming now," Larry exclaimed,
"that will finish her."
A wave, towering far above its fellows, was indeed ap-
proaching. Higher and higher it rose. There was a
wild cry from the wreck as it surged over it. When it
had passed the sea was covered with floating timbers, but
the vessel was gone.
"We can do nothing now," Walter said "We daren't


ORANGE AND GREEN.
.21
go in among that wreckage, and any who get hold of
lloating planks will drift ashore. Now, Larry, back
quietly, and let her drift down round the Nose. Wa
must keep her head to the waves."
Ten minutes and they were abreast of the reef. As
soon as they were past it Walter gave the word, and they
rowed along under its shelter to the point where they had
embarked.
"Now, sir," Walter said, "we will back her up to that
rock. When we are close enough you must jump."
This was safely accomplished.
"Now, Larry, row alongside when the next wave
comes; we must both scramble out as well as we can."
But by this time help was at hand. The boat had been
anxiously watched from the shore, and when, on the dis-
appearance of the wreck, she was seen to be making iier
way back to the Nose, Mr. Davenant, with Considine and
the priest, and the boys who had assisted in getting her
afloat, hurried along the shore to meet her, the rest of
the fishermen remaining behind to aid any who might be
washed up from the wreck. As soon as it was seen that
they intended to land at the spot where they had started,
Considine and Mr. Davenant made their way along the
rock and joined the officer just as he leaped ashore. The
boat came alongside on the top of the wave, and as this
sank it grazed the rock and capsized, but Walter and
Larry grasped the hands stretched out to them, and were
hauled on to the rook, while the next wave dashed the
eurragh in fragments on the beach.


22
ORANGE AND GREEN.
CHAPTEK II.
FOR JAMES OR WILLIAM.
«
"My dear Walter," his father exclaimed as he em-
braced his son as he scrambled on shore, "you have be-
haved like a hero indeed, but you oughtn't to have done
it; and you too, Larry. You both deserve a sound
thrashing for the fright you have given us."
"They may have frightened you, sir," the officer said,
"but assuredly I owe my life to these brave lads. I have
scarcely thanked them yet, for indeed until I felt my
foot on the rock I had but small hopes of reaching shore
safely in that cock-boat of theirs. After feeling that
great ship so helpless against the waves, it seemed im-
possible that a mere eggshell could float over them. My
name, sir, is Colonel L'Estrange, at your •ervice."
"My name is Davenant, colonel, and I am truly glad
that my son has rescued you; but the sooner you are up
at my place the better, sir. This is no weather for stand-
ing talking in shirt-sleeves."
They now made their way along the rock back to the
shore, and then hurried to the village. There they
learned that six men had succeeded in getting to shore
along the rope before the vessel broke up.
Telling Larry he had best have a glass of hot spirits
and then turn into bed at once, and that he was to come
up to the house the first thing in the morning, Mr.
Davenant, with the priest, Colonel L'Estrange, and


ORANGE AND GREEN.
23
Walter made his way up to the house, to which the men
who had reached the shore had been already taken.
The party were met at the door by Mrs. Davenant,
who had been extremely anxious, for Godfery had been
sent home by his father as soon as the wreck went to
pieces, and had brought the news of Walter's doings up
to that 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 up some hot spiced wine di-
rectly. Katherine, this is Colonel L'Estrange, whom
Walter has brought ashore in his boat. You will excuse
him at present, for he has been for hours exposed 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 with hot blankets ready, and I doubt not, a
blazing fire. Ah, here is the spiced wine; take a draught
of that before you go upstairs. You can have another
after you are in bed."
Three more survivors from the wreck were presently
brought up. They had been washed ashore on planks,
as indeed had many others, but th« rest had all been
beaten to death against the rocks by the breakers.
Walter slept late the next morning, and when he came
downstairs found that the others had already finished
breakfast. When he had eaten his meal and listened to
the gentle scolding which his mother gave him for risk-
ing his life, he joined his father, who was, with Colonel
L'Estrange, pacing backward and forward on the terrace
in front of the house. The first fury of the storm was
over, but it still blew strongly, and a very heavy sea was
running,
"Ah, my young friend," Colonel L'Estrange said, ad-
vancing, "I am glad to see you, and to be able to thank


ORAJYGE AND GBEEN.
you more warmly than I was able to do last night, when
the very words seemed frozen on my lips, for having
saved my life. It was a gallant deed, and one which your
father may well be proud of. It showed not only bravery
of the highest kind, but coolness and judgment, which
are virtues even more rare. I predict a brilliant future
for you, and if in any way my aid may be of use to you,
believe me, it will be at your service."
"It was well you were a good swimmer, sir," Walter
said, "for we could not have helped you if you had not
been able to help yourself, for the sea was covered with
pieces of wreck, and as the boat was only covered with
canvas the slightest touch from one of the jagged ends
would have made a hole in it. I am very much obliged
to you for your kind offer of assistance; but at present
we have not made up our minds what I am to be; have
we, father?"
"No, indeed, Walter. You have told me that you
would like, at any rate for a time, to see something of the
world before settling down here for life; but it is no easy
matter to say what is best for you to do. Ireland offers
but little field for any one's ambition. Since King James
eame to the throne, and especially since Tyrconnell be-
came governor, things have been a little more favorable
for us; and I have hopes yet that justice will be done to
the Catholic population of this unhappy country. Is it
not monstrous, Colonel L'Estrange, that the very men
who had a hand in the rebellion against King Charles I.
should stii< be in possession during the reign of his
son of the lands which were taken from my father be-
cause he was loyal to his king? And so it is all over Ire-
land, the descendants of Cromwell's men lord it in the
homes of t jose who were faithful to King Charles."
"It certainly seems so, sir," Colonel L'Estrange said;
"but I am no politician. I am simply a soldier, and obey


0RAN9E AND GREEN.
25
orders; but I own that it does seem a cruel injustice that
the great portion of the lands of this country should be
held by the descendants of Cromwell's soldiers, while the
lawful owners, whose only fault was that they were loyal
to their king, should still be dispossessed of it."
''But I think better times are coming," Mr. Davenaut
said. "There can be no doubt of the king's leaning to-
ward our religion. He has been restrained from carrying
his good-will toward us into effect by his privy-council-
ors and by the English party here, whose interest it is to
prevent any change being made, and who constantly mis-
represent the feelings of this country. From the days
when Strongbow first landed this island has been the
prey of adventurers, whose only object has been to wrest
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 was as bad as the rest of them; but you
see we have held the land for some centuries now, and,
like the other descendants of Strongbow's men, have
come to look at matters from the Irish point of view
rather than the English; 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 rumors for years that he intended to
make a bid for the English throne; but I have heard
nothing else."
"There was a report before I left London that he has
already sailed from Holland," Colonel L'Estrange re-
plied; "and indeed I have no doubt the rumor is well
founded."
"But he will never succeed," Mr. Davenant said


26
ORANGE AND GREEN.
eagerly. "He will be put down as easily as Monmouth
was."
"I do not know," Colonel L'Estrange said gravely.
"The Protestant feeling in England is very strong.
Monmouth was vain and empty-headed, and he wrecked
his own cause. The Dutchman is a different sort of man
altogether, and one thing is certain, if King James can
make a mess of matters he is sure to do so. The Stuarts
have always been feeble and indecisive, and James is the
most feeble and indecisive of them. If William suc-
ceeds in effecting a landing, I think his chance of success
is a good one."
"He may reign in England," Mr. Davenant broke in
passionately, "but he will not reign in Ireland. But for-
give me," he broke off. "I forgot for a moment that
you are an Englishman and my guest."
"You need not apologize, Mr. Davenant. As I said, I
am a soldier and no politician. My ancestors were royal-
ists, and I have no great love for the Dutch stadtholder,
who will be supported in England by the class who rose
against King Charles. At the^eame time it is difficult to
feel much enthusiasm for the Stuarts. The first was a
pedant; the second threw away his chances over and over
again by his duplicity and want of faith; the third 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 to sacrifice everything for such a
race as this?"
"That is not the way in which we look at it in Ireland,"
Mr. Davenant said. "The wars here are waged under
various pretenses; some one is goaded into rebellion,
false charges are preferred wholesale, or there is a reli-
gious pretext; but we all know what is at the bottom of
them all, simply the greed of English adventurers for
Irish land; and not content with having dispossessed the


ORANGE AND GUEEN.
27
ancient owners of three-fourths of the cultivated land of
the country, they want the remainder, and under the
pretense that we, the descendants of the early settlors,
are in sympathy with our Irish neighbors, they have
marked us out for destruction, and already a great por-
tion of our estates is in the hands of Cromwell's men.
So gros3 have been the abuses that the commission,
which the king appointed to inquire into the seizure of
our estates, only ventured to sit one day, for the proofs
brought forward were so overwhelmingly strong that it
was seen at once that did the inquiry continue it would
be made manifest to all the world that justice could be
satisfied by nothing less than a clear sweep of all those
men who have seized our estates.
"If Ireland rises in favor of King James it will not be
for any love for the Stuarts; but it will be to recover the
land which has been illegally wrested from us, and which,
if Dutch William and his Whig adherents gain the upper
hand, will be taken from us forever. The religious ele-
ment will, of course, count for much. Already we have
suffered persecution for our religion; and if the Whigs
could have their way they would stamp it out utterly
with fire and sword. Things have looked better during
the last five or six years than they have done since Crom-
well first put foot in Ireland. We have begun to hope
for justice. Tyrconnell has stood up for us, and with
the good-will of James has gained many concessions
We have now what we never had before, an Irish army,
The land thieves have been fairly alarmed, for they have
seen that the long-delayed justice will be done us at last.
Many have sold back their land?! to the original owners
and ha. 3 left the country; others are only holding out
for better terms. Another ten years oc James' reign and
things would have righted tiieaij.i.es; but if the Dutch-
man ascends the throne of England there is no hope for
Ireland save in the sword."


28
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"Well, we must hope it will not come to that," Colo-
nel L'Estrange said. "I am ready to fight the battles
of England on the Continent, but civil war with all its
horrors sickens me; and civil war here is not like our
civil war in England. There were no race animosities
there, no memory of cruel wrongs on one side or the
other; men fought for a principle, but there were no
atrocities committed on either side like those which have
devastated Germany. The peasant plowed the land, and
the trader kept open his shop unmolested. It is true
that toward the end there were confiscations of the prop-
erty of those who still continued the strife, and a few
executions of individuals; but, taking it as a whole, no
war has ever caused so little suffering to the people at
large as did the civil war in England; but assuredly a war
in Ireland now, like those which have gone before, would
be marked by the foulest atrocities,, massacres, and de-
struction on both sides."
"Yes," Mr. Davenant said, "I must own that for
downright brutal and bloody ferocity the wars in Ireland
rival those of the Huns."
Walter had listened in silence to this conversation.
His father now turned to him.
"Have you heard whether Larry has recovered from
his adventure of yesterday as well as you have?"
"No, father, I have not heard anything about it. I
came out here directly I 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 they were being drawn up through the surf
that it will bo some days before any 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 fourteen aft, and from what I saw I should
think as many more forward; there were twenty-three


30
ORANGE AND GREEN.
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 honor, and it's proud I am to have
been of service to such a grand gentleman. It's thank-
ful I am for your kindness, and if ever you want a boy to
do a job for you it's myself that will be proud to do it.
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 been drowned I don't know whatever
I should have said to the squire."
Two days after the shipwreck Walter and John White-
foot met at the place which 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—every one is talking of it; and even my grand-
father, who has seldom a good word for any of you at the
Castle, said that it was a noble deed. It was as much as
I could do not to say, 'Yes, he is a friend of mine;' for I
felt proud of you, I can tell you."
"It is all nonsense, John. I have often been out in a
curragh in bad weather, 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 no use. My people have always been
against my going down to the sea, deeming it a pure
waste of time, except that they let me go down to swim.
I can do that well, you know; but they have always for-
bidden my going out in boats. Now, you see, it is
proved that it is not a waste of time, for you have been
able to save many lives. The thought must make you
very happy."
"Weil, I don't know that it does particularly," Walter
said carelessly. "Of course I was glad at the time, but I


0 RA KG R A NT) GREEN. 31
have not thought much about it one way or the other
since. You see the news that lias come has driven every-
thing else out of our heads."
"Is it true, then, the report that we heard yesterday,
that William of Orange has,set out for England?"
"Yes, it is true enough; and I am afraid, by what I
hear, that it is likely to cause all sorts of troubles."
"I suppose so," John said gravely; "and of course in
this matter my people think differently from yours. You
know we agreed that we would never talk on these sub-
jects, but I am afraid the time is coming when there will
be nothing else to be talked of."
"I am afraid so too, John. father thinks that
there will be civil war again."
"Of course my grandfather is delighted," John said
quietly; "he has been greatly disturbed in his mind for
some months owing to the leanings of King James toward
the Irish, which seem to point to his having to give up
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 it would be reasonable.
Your grandfather got the land from mine because he
fought for Oromwell against the king, and Cromwell got
the best of it. Well, it seems only reasonable that when
the king again came to the throne, 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 have cared for myself if the land was given
back again to your father to-morrow. Then I suppose
we should go back to England; and as I know my grand-
father has done well and has laid by a good deal of
money, they could take a farm there; and there would
be more chance of their letting me enter upon some
handicraft. I would rather that by a great deal than


33
ORANGE AND GREEN.
farming. All these books you have lent me, Walter,
have shown me what great and noble deeds there are to be
done in the world—I don't mean in fighting, you know,
but in other ways. And they make the life here, toiling
on the farm irom sunrise to sunset with no object save"
that of laying by every year more money, seem terribly
empty and worthless.
"By the way, my grandfather was yesterday evening
rating my father because, instead of always keeping me
hard at work, he allowed me once or twice a week to be
away for hours wasting my time—which means, though
he didn't know it, going about with you. My father said
stoutly that he did not thin'; the time was altogether
wasted, for that in the last two years I had made a nota-
ble advance in learning, and he was satisfied that I had
benefited much by these intervals of recreation. There-
upon my grandfather grumbled that I was too fond of
reading, and that I was filling my mind with all sorts of
nonsense, whereas true wisdom was to be found in one
book only.
"My father said that was true of religious wisdom, but
that for the advancement of the world it was needed that
men should learn other things. Of course my grand-
father had three or four texts ready at hand; but my
father had him by saying: 'You see, father, all the com-
mands issued to the Jews are not strictly applicable to us
—for example, they were ordered not to use horses; and
I do not remember that Cromwell felt that 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 am going up to Derry to stay with a cousin
of my father who is settled there and exercises the trade
of a currier. I said some months ago that I should like


ORANGE AND GREEN.
33
to learn a trade, but every one was against it then; they
seemed to think that, as I should some day have the land,
it was flying in the face of Providence to think of any-
thing else. But I suppose the fact that everything is so
unsettled now, and that there is no saying what may
come of these events in England, may have made them
think differently.
"At any rate my father said to me yesterday: 'We
have been talking over what you said about wishing to
learn a trade. If all goes on well there is no occasion for
you to learn any business save that of farming; but none
can say what the Lord may not have in store for us, or
what troubles may come upon us. In any case it will do
you no harm to see a little of the world outside our farm;
and therefore your grandfather and I have settled that
you shall go for a few months to my cousin, who, as you
know, is a currier in Derry. He has often written asking
you to go and stay with him, seeing that he has no chil-
dren of his own. Learn what you can of his business;
and if it should be that you find it more to your liking
than farming, I should not be one to hold you back from
following the bent of your inclinations.
"'But this is between ourselves. My father's ideas on
these subjects you know, and it would cause much
trouble did he think that you had any idea of not follow-
ing in the path in which he and I have trod. But to me
it seems better that each should go on the path toward
which his mind is turned—that is, when he has made
quite sure, after long reflection and prayer, 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
to follow a life other than that you would lead here, I
shall not oppose you. The Lord has blessed our labors,
the land is fertile, and I can well provide the moneys
that will be needful to start you either in business with
my cousin, or in such way as may appear best.'


34
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"I thanked him gravely, but, indeed, Walter, I had
difficulty in restraining myself from shouting with joy,
for a life like that of my father and grandfather here
would be very grievous to me. I have no desire to gain
greater wealth than we have, but 1 long for a higher life
than this."
"I don't know, John," Walter said doubtfully. "Un-
less, as you say, these troubles make a difference, you
will be a large land-owner some day; and these bitter-
nesses will die out in time, and you will take a very dif-
ferent position from that which your grandfather holds.
Of course we regard him as a usurper, but you know in
the third generation the grandson of a usurper becomes
a legitimate monarch. My ancestors usurped the land
from the native Irish by the sword, just as your grand-
father did from us; but we came in time to be regarded
as the natural lords of the soil, and so will you. But to
be a currier!—that strikes me as a tremendous come
down!"
"I care nothing about coming up or coming down,"
John said simply; "I long only for an honest mode of
life, in which, instead of dwelling solitary, and seeing no
one from year to year save at our Sabbath meetings, I
may mix with others and take part in a more active and
busy life. In itself I do not suppose that the trade of a
currier is a very pleasant one; but that matters little if'
when work is done one has leisure for some sort of com-
munication with others and for improving one's mind.
It will be to me something like what going to court in
London would be to you, Walter. I am most grieved
about my mother; she will miss me sorely.
"She said to me last night, 'I fear somewhat, John,
that the course I have taken with you has greatly unfitted
you for settling down here as we have done before you;
but although I shall rrtiss you sadly, I do not blame my-



ORANGE AND GREEN.
35
self for what I have done. I think myself, my son, that
there are higher 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 and drawers 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 with which your father and grand-
father have been well-contented an irksome one for you.
I have no fear that we shall be always separated.
Your grandfather is an old man, and when the Lord
pleases to take him, your father and I will be free to do
as we choose, and can, if we like, dispose of this land and
quit this troubled country and settle in England or else-
where near where 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? But there is ample laid
by for our old age, and I see not the sense of laboring in-
cessantly, as does your grandfather, merely to lay up
stores which you will never enjoy. Did I see any signs
of a decrease in the bitter animosity which parties feel
toward each other here I might think differently; but
there is no prospect of peace and good-will returning in
your time, and therefore no object in your father and I
toiling on for the rest of our lives when the return of our
labor will be of little worth to you. Such being so, I do
not regret that your thoughts turn to the world of which
you have read in books. The world is but a secondary
. consideration to us, 'tis true, but I can see no special
goodness in a life of dull monotony.'"
"I wonder where your mother got hold of her ideas,
John; she is so different from most of your people?"
"She is indeed," John agreed. "It was from her
mother that she received her teaching. I know she was
not happy with her husband, who was as gloomy and
fanatical as is my grandfather, and she ever looked back


36
ORANGE AND GREEN.
to the happy days of her girlhood in England. I think
she did for my mother just what my mother has done for
me, only the difference is that she never had sufficient
influence with her husband to enable her to carry out 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 owe everything to her, for I am sure if it
hadn't been for her my father would never have ventured
to oppose the old man, even so far as to let me know you.
It makes one sad to think, Walter, that religion should
sometimes make those who think most of it tyrants in
their families. My grandfather is terribly earnest in his
religion. There is no pretense or mistake about it; but,
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 any one could be; but I don't think I ever
heard either of them say a hard word of a soul. Their
religion is a pleasure to them and not a task, and I know
that some years ago, when we had a priest who was al-
ways denouncing the Protestants, they very soon man-
aged to get him changed for another. What a funny
thing it is, to be sure, that people should quarrel about
their religion! After all, we believe all the same impor-
tant things; and as to others, what does it matter, pro-
vided we all do our best in the way that seems right to
us?"
But this was too liberal for John. He had been
brought up in too strait a sect 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


ORANGE AND GREEN.
37
up. If you had been bom in the Castle, and I had been
born in your place, you would have 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, where you would never have heard of Protestant-
ism, and I had been born in a Protestant country like
Holland, where I should never have had a chance of be-
coming a Catholic. Very few people ever change their
religion; they just live and die as they have been boru
and educated."
"It seems so," John said after a pause; "but the ques-
tion is too deep for us."
"Quite so," Walter laughed, "and I don't want to
argue it. Well, when are you going to start?"
"I am off to-morrow morning. My father has an ac-
quaintance in Dublin who is starting for Derry, and I am
to go in his charge."
For another hour the boys chatted together, and then
with mutual promises of writing regularly, whenever
they had the chance, they said good-by, and the follow-
ing morning John started with his father to Dublin, and
next day journeyed north toward Derry.


ORANGE-AND GREEN.
39
the same measures against the Protestants. Both reports
were equally false, but they were generally believed, and
added to the panic and dismay. In fact, however, both
parties were waiting. The Protestants dared not com-
mence hostilities until assured that William was firmly
seated on the English throne and ready to come to their
assistance; the Catholics were equally desirous to main-
tain the peace until assured that no hope remained save
the sword.
A month after John Whitefoot had left, Walter re-
ceived a letter from him:
"Dear Friend Walter: You will have heard, no
doubt, of the troubles that have arisen here. My father
sent me here to learn a trade, but at present all men's
minds are so agitated that there is no talk save of arms
and of lighting. My kinsman is as bad as the other.--.
He spends the day going hither and thither among the
townsfolk, and has been made an officer in one of the six
companies which have been raised here, and pays no fur-
ther heed to business. The town is mightily divided:
the younger and more zealous spirits are all for fighting,
while almost all the older and wealthier citizens are op-
posed to this.
"This is how the trouble began. The Earl of Tyrcon-
nell sent, as you know, three thousand soldiers to help
King James at the first news of the landing of the prince
and to do so he withdrew the regiment which was in gar-
rison in this town. On the ?th of this month of Decem-
ber the people here heard that the regiment of the Earl
of Antrim was approaching the town to take the place of
those troops. When the news arrived there was a sort of
panic in the town and the news was spread that this regi-
ment was intended to massacre the people.
"Why this should be I do not know and I cannot but
think that the alarm was a false one; however, the regi-
ment arrived on the river bank, and some of its officers
crossed and entered the city. When they were in coun-
cil with some of the leading citizens a party of appren-
tices, with some of the rabble, shut the gates. For some
time there was great debate. The older citizens were


40
ORANGE AND GREEN.
mostly in favor of admitting the earl's regiment. Why,
they asked, should Derry alone defy the power of Tyrcon-
nell and King James? If King William made his cause
good and came over to Ireland to aid the Protestants, it
would be time enough for the men of Derry to join him
and to fight for their faith; but if they now stood alone
they could do no good to the cause of King William, and
would bring destruction on themselves and their city.
"But these arguments were of no avail. The appren-
tices and all the young men of the town, and the fugi-
tives who had come in from the country round, were all
for fighting, and so the gates were kept shut; and Lord
A.ntrim, seeing that he could do nothing against such a
strong place as Derry, marched away with his regiment.
This seems to me a fair account of what has happened.
What will come of it I know not; but, being a Protestant,
my feelings would incline me to the side of William. Yet
it seems to me that his friends here have acted hastily in
thus adventuring themselves against all the forces of
King Jame3, and that sore trouble is like to come upon
the town. However, it is not for me to judge. I am as
warm as any of them in defense of our religion, and shall
try to do my best in case of need. I am sorry, dear
Walter, that we have to take different sides in this quar-
rel, but of course we are each of the opinion of our
elders, and must not blame each other for what is indeed
not of our own choosing.
"This is a fair city, standing on rising ground by a
stately river, and with strong walls; and at any other
time life would be very pleasant here, although living
among so many people seems strange to me after my life
on the farm. I near all sorts of tales about fighting in
other parts, and of the slaughter of Protestants by Kap-
parees, but know not whether they are true. As my
cousin, who is an earnest man, is wholly taken up with
the present affairs, and all business is at a stand, I have
little to do, and spend much of my time by the riverside,
and have taken to fishing, which I like mightily, and yes-
terday I caught a fish weighing three pounds, and we
had him for dinner. I often wish you were with me.
Write me a long letter and tell me all that you are doing.
"Your affectionate friend,
"John Whitefoot."


ORANGE AND GREEN. 41
Indeed, throughout all Ireland preparations for war
were going on. AJ1 over the north the Protestants wore
banding themselves in arms; and, under the excuse of
some outrages committed by a few isolated parties of peas-
ants known as Rapparees, were everywhere harrying the
Catholics, carrying fire and sword into quiet villages,
burning, slaying, and carrying off their grain and cattle.
Throughout the whole of Ulster, Charlemont and Car-
rickfergus alone remained in the hands of King James'
troops.
England and Scotland had now accepted William as
their king, and James had fled to France. With the
exception of Ulster, Ireland remained stanch to King
James. In the south Lord Inshiquin, and in Connaught
Lord Kingston, had each raised corps among the Prot-
estants settlers for William, and were the first to com-
mence hostilities, and the latter, marching north, made
an attack on Carrickfergus.
Tyrconnell now issued commissions to several of the
Catholic nobility and gentry to raise troops for the king's
service, and as the people responded to the call readily
some fifty regiments of foot and several troops of horse
were soon raised. But though men were forthcoming in
abundance, there was a great want of arms and all muni-
tions of war. There were in the government stores only
twenty thousand arms, and most of these were old weap-
ons that had been returned to store as unserviceable, and
only about a thousand muskets were found to be of any
use. There was no artillery or ammunition, and no
money with which these necessaries could be purchased
abroad. The gentry would have willingly contributed,
but all had been well-nigh ruined by the confiscation of
their property, and could do little toward filling the
treasury.
Never did a nation enter upon a war so badly provided


ORANGE AND GREEN.
with all necessaries as did Ireland when she resolved to
adhere to the cause of her king and to resist the power
of England and Scotland, aided by that of Holland and
the Protestant States of Germany.
Mr. Davenant had been one of the first to respond to
the invitation of Tyrconnell, and had set about raising a
troop of horse. He had no difficulty in getting the num-
ber of men in Bray and the surrounding villages, and the
difficulty in mounting them was overcome by the patriot-
ism of sundry gentlemen and citizens of Dublin, who
willingly contributed their spare horses to the king's
service.
Their arms were various. Some had swords, some
short pikes, while a few only had pistols; but the smiths
everywhere toiled hard converting scythes and reaping-
hooks into swords and pikes, and before they were ready
to take the field the whole troop were provided with
swords. "Walter had eagerly begged his father to ap-
point him cornet of the troop, and Mr. Davenant might
have yielded had it not been for his wife's entreaties.
Even old Mrs. Davenant, intensely loyal as she was to
the cause of James, sided with her daughter-in-law.
"Of course, Fergus, you will do your duty to the king.
It would indeed be a shame for a Davenant to hold back;
hut at Walter's age there can be no occasion for him, as
yet, to take a commission. I am ready to give my son as
I gave my husband to the king; and when Walter be-
comes a man he too must go if duty demands it; but for
the present, assuredly there is no reason why such a boy
should mix himself up in this unhappy struggle. Be-
sides, if aught befalls you it is to him that his mother
will have to look in the future. There are hundreds
and thousands of strong and active men in Ireland, and
the necessity has not yet come for boys to take the field."
So Walter, to his intense disappointment, was refused


ORANGE AND GREEN. 43
the cornetcy of the troop, but his father, who fully en-
tered into his feelings, finally told him that when the
troop took the field he should accompany him.
"You are not to carry arms, Walter, or to mix yourself
up in any way with it. You will be a sort of camp-fol-
lower, you know; but you will see all that goes on, and
will be able to prepare yourself to take your place in the
ranks if the war should unhappily go on for any time."
With this Walter had to be satisfied; and, indeed, al-
though somewhat disappointed at not being at once
allowed to join the troop, he felt sure that it would not
be very long before his father, once away from the influ-
ence of his wife and mother, would allow him to join.
"May I take Larry with me, father? He would look
after my horse, and would be useful to you for running
messages and all sorts of things. He wants to go very
much; you see his uncle and two or three of his cousins
have joined the troop, and he would have joined too if
you had not thought him too young."
"The worst of you and Larry is, that you are always
getting into some scrape together," Mr. Davenant said
with a smile.
"But I should not get into scrapes on such a business
as this," Walter said indignantly. "This is a serious
affair, and of course going with you I should be very
particular."
"Yes, as long as I was close by, AValter; however, I
don't mind your taking Larry; he would, as you say, be
useful, and you will want somebody to look after your
horse and act as your servant. We may be separated
sometimes, for the troop may be sent on detached service
when I could not take you with me."
The permission to take Larry quite reconciled Walter
to the downfall of his hopes of going as cornet, and in
high spirits he hastened down to the village to tell Larry
that his father had consented to his accompanying him.


44
ORANGE AND GREEN.
All through January Mr. Davenant was busy drilling
his troop. Throughout all Ireland both parties were pre-
paring for the storm which was soon to burst. Lord
Mountjoy, a Protestant nobleman, was sent with his regi-
ment, which consisted for the most part of Protestants,
to Derry. He held a meeting with the leading towns-
people, who agreed to admit the Protestant soldiers, upon
the condition that no more troops were sent. Accord-
ingly, the Protestant troops, under Colonel Lundy,
entered the town, and Lord Mountjoy assumed the gov-
ernorship.
Tyrconnell soon perceived that he had made a mistake
in sending Mountjoy to Derry, for instead of overawing
the inhabitants, his regiment had in fact become a part
of the rebel garrison; he therefore recalled Mountjoy and
sent him over to France on the pretense of an embassy
to King James, but as soon as he arrived there he was
treacherously thrown into prison.
The people of Derry received quantities of powder and
arms from Scotland, and on the 20th of February the
Prince of Orange was formally proclaimed king in Derry;
and this example was followed throughout Ulster. This
was, in fact, the beginning of the war. Anxious to save
Ireland from the horrors of civil war, Lord Granard and
other Protestant noblemen of the council joined Tyrcon-
nell in issuing a proclamation, ordering the Protestant
corps to lay down their arms; and as they did not obey,
Lieutenant-General Hamilton was dispatched to the north
with a thousand regular troops and a considerable num-
ber of irregulars.
These came up with the insurgents at Dromore, and
defeated them with great slaughter. They rallied at
Hillsborough, but again wore defeated and scattered.
Hamilton divided his force, and marching through the
north reduced Ulster to submission, with the exception



0BANG1S AM) GREEN.
45
only of the fortified towns of Lnniskiilen and Derry. In
the south General McCarty was equally successful in
clearing Munster of William's adherents, and defeated
Lord Inshiquin in every encounter.
On the 14th of March Mr. Davenant, who had ridden
into Dublin, returned in the evening with the news that
the king had landed at Kinsale two days before, -with
fifteen hundred Irish troops in the pay of France, and a
hundred French officers, intended to aid in drilling the
new levies.
"I am glad, indeed, that he has arrived, for had he
been met on the seas by the English fleet all our hopes
might have been dashed at a blow. Now that he is with
us it will rouse the enthusiasm of the people to the ut-
most. If he is wise he will surely be able to unite all
Ireland under him, save of course the fanatics of the
north, who, however, can do nothing against the whole
strength of the country, since Hamilton's little force
alone has been sufficient to put down all opposition, save
where they remain shut up behind the walls of Derry and
Enniskillen. It is not with them that we have to cope
alone—they would be utterly powerless—it is with the
army of England and Scotland we shall have to fight.
Unfortunately we have no fleet, and they can land wher-
ever they choose; but now the king is really among us,
all who have hitherto wavered will join. Let England
and Scotland choose their king as they will, but there is
no reason why Ireland should desert its rightful monarch
at their bidding."
"When will the king arrive at Dublin, father?"
"He goes first to Cork, Walter; Tyrconnell has set out,
and will meet him there. They say he will be here in
about ten days' time. The French ambassador, the Mar-
quis d'Avaux, comes with him, and many French nobles."
"Do you think, father, he will at once order that his


46
ORANGE AND GREEN.
friends shall receive the laud again which was taken from
them by Cromwell's soldiers?"
"I hope not, my boy. It is his interest and not our
own we must think of now; and if Ireland is to resist
successfully the English and continental troops of Dutch
William, we must be united—we must be Irishmen first,
Catholics and Protestants afterward. I trust that he
will issue such proclamations as will allay the alarm of
the Protestants and bind us all together.
"King James is not like his father. In no single case
since he came to the throne has he broken his royal word
once given; therefore all may feel confidence in any
promises he may make. I have, of course, no hope that
anything he can say will influence the fanatics of Derry
and Enniskillen, but we can afford to disregard them.
They are entailing misery and suffering upon themselves
without the slightest benefit to the cause they advocate.
If we beat the English, of course those places must
finally surrender; if the English beat us, they will get
their Dutch William as king, without any effort on their
part. I think myself that it will be very unwise to at-
tempt anything against those two places. The people
there can shut themselves up in their walls as long as
they like, and by so doing can in no way harm us. If we
take their towns it will only add to the bad blood that
already exists. Better by far leave them to themselves,
until the main battle is fought out."
On the 23d tie news came that the king was to arrive
in Dublin the next day, and Mr. Davenant, or, as he was
now called, Captain Davenant, went over with all the
gentry of the neighborhood to meet him.
King James was received with enthusiasm. Addresses
were presented to him by the several public bodies and
by the clergy of the Established Church. His answer to
these addresses gave satisfaction to all. He promised



favor and protection to the Established Protestant
Church; issued an invitation to the Protestants who had
fled the kingdom to return to their homes, and assured
them of safety and his particular care; and he com-
manded that, with the exception of the military, no
Catholics should carry arms in Dublin. Finally, he sum-
moned a parliament to meet him in Dublin on the 7th of
May.
One day a messenger arrived with a dispatch for Cap-
tain Davenant.
"We are to move into Dublin to-morrow, Walter," he
said when he read it. "We are to take the field at once;
the king himself is going to march in command of us
against Derry. I think his majesty is wrong; and I
know that Tyrconnell has argued strongly against his in-
tention. There are three reasons against it. First, as I
told you, I think it were better to leave Derry alone
until the main issue is settled; secondly, King James has
no military experience whatever, and if aught goes wrong
with the expedition he will lose prestige; thirdly, al-
though it were well for him to be with the army when it
fights a foreign foe, it were better that he should not lead
it against men who are, however much they may rebel
against him, his own subjects.
"I know Tyrconnell has set forth these objections to
him; but unhappily obstinacy is a fault of all the Stuart
race, and it generally happens that they are most obsti-
nate when most wrong. However, I trust that when
Derry sees so strong a force marching against it, it will
open its gates without resistance. A siege can only en-
tail horrible suffering on the town; and that suffering
will in the end tell against James' cause, for it will excite
the sympathy of the Protestants in England and Scotland
and make them all the hotter to conquer Ireland."
The following day the troop was mustered in front of


48
ORANGE AND GREEN.
the castle, and, after a tender farewell to his wife and
mother, Captain Davenant placed himself at their head
and rode off. A quarter of an hour later Walter, with
Larry Doolan on a rough little pony by his side, rode
after the troop. Dublin was reached in the afternoon.
The town presented a festive appearance; the principal
streets were still draped with the flags which had been
hung out at the king's entry five days before. The
streets were thronged with people, for loyalists had come
in from all parts of the country to welcome the king.
Large numbers of men belonging to the newly raised
regiments wandered among the crowd, and with these
were mingled the French uniforms of the Irish troops
who had come over with James. The troop was loudly
cheered by the crowd as it passed through the town to
the spot assigned to it in the camp of the force gathered
near the city. Walter and Larry rode a short distance
behind the troop, and joined it as soon as it reached the
ground allotted to it.
"It was a brave sight, father, was it not, to see the city
decked out and all the people cheering for the king?
Dublin is setting a fine example—isn't it?"
"You must not set much weight upon the cheering of
a crowd, Walter. I do not say that the people of Dublin
may not at the present moment be loyal to the king; but
if he were defeated and William were to march in, you
would see that they would cheer him just as heartily.
The mob of London cheered King James as he passed
through it a week before he was so ill advised as to fly,
and they threw up their hats for joy a fortnight later for
William. No, my boy—there is no dependence on a
mob. They worship success, and the king who is present
is sure to be vastly more dear to them than the king who
is absent. And now you had better help Larry picket
your horses. Put them by the side of mine. See how


ORANGE AND OREEN.
49
the troopers fasten theirs, and do yours the same. When
that is done send Larry to get hold of some wood and
light a fire; it will be cold when the sun goes down. As
for food, we have brought enough with us for to-night;
to-morrow, I suppose, we shall get rations."
Captain Davenant now posted a certain number of men
to look after the horses, and the rest set off to cut fire-
wood; and in an hour four or five great fires were blaz-
ing. Forage was served out for the horses from the stores
which had been collected, and also a truss of straw to
every three soldiers as bedding. Walter had in the mean-
time strolled away among the other camps, and was
greatly amused at the various shifts and contrivances that
the men had made to make themselves comfortable. A
few only of the officers had tents; for these, as well as all
other necessaries of war, were wanting; and the troops,
who had for some little time been in camp there, had
raised all sorts of shelter from the weather. Some had
constructed little huts of turf thatched with straw or
rushes; others had erected little tents, some of sail-cloth
obtained from the shipping, others of blankets, coarse
linen cloaks, or any other articles on which they could
lay hands. All were in high spirits at the prospect of
the termination of the monotony of continued drill and
of the commencement of active campaigning. Huge fires
blazed everywhere, and the country for some distance
round had been completely stripped of its wood.
Everywhere was life and bustle. Men were cleaning
their arms preparatory to the march of next day; others
were cooking at the fires; troopers were grooming their
horses; snatches of song and loud laughter rose in the
air. After wandering about for an hour Walter rejoined
his father. Captain Davenant was sitting with the two
officers of his troop, Lieutenant O'Driscoll and Cornet
Heron, by a fire, the materials for which the three troop-


50
ORANGE AND GREEN.
ers who acted as their servants had collected. There
was no cooking to be done, for sufficient cold provisions
had been brought with the troop.
"You are just in time, Walter," his father said; "we
are going to fall to at once at our meal. Hand over that
cold chicken, Larry; and do you, Tim Donelly, broach
that keg of claret. Give me the bread, Fergus—that's
right. Now, gentlemen, here's a hunch each; plates are
a luxury which we must do without in the field. Now
let us fall to."
Walter seated himself on a truss of straw beside his
father, and thought he had never enjoyed a meal so much
in his life as the bread and cold chicken, eaten as they
were in the open air in front of the crackling fire. Each
was provided with a horn, and these were filled from the
keg.
"Here's to the king, gentlemen; success to his arms!"
All stood up to drink the toast, and then continued
their meal. Three chickens vanished rapidly, and the
troopers kept their horns filled with claret.
"If we always do as well as that," Captain Davenamt
said as they finished the meal, "we shall have no reas«n
to grumble. But I fear that's too much to expect.
Bring me my pipe and tobacco, Larry; you will find them
in the holsters of my saddle. Fergus, do you undo these
trusses and lay the straw out even—that will do. Now,
lads, you will find plenty more provisions in the wallet.
Do you go and get your own suppers, then give an eye to
the horses. We shall not want anything more."
For two or three hours the three officers and Walter
sat chatting by the fire, occasionally piling on fresh logs.
Gradually the din of voices in the camp died away and
the bright fires burned down.
"I think we had better turn in," Captain Davenant
said at last. "We must be astir an hour before daylight,
for we march as soon as it's light."


ORANGE AND GUEEN.
51
Rolling themselves in their long cloaks, they lay down
upon the straw. It was some time before Walter got to
sleep. The novelty of the situation and the strangeness
of lying with the night air blowing in his face made him
unusually wakeful. Occasionally, too, a laugh from some
party who were sitting late round their fire attracted his
attention, and the sound of the snorting and pawing of
the horses also kept him awake; but at last he, too, went
off to sleep. In spite of his warm cloak he felt stiff and
chilled when the sound of the trumpets and drums roused
the camp.
"Well, Walter, how do you like sleeping in the open
air?" his father said as he rose to his feet and shook
himself.
"I don't mind the sleeping, father, but the waking is
not so pleasant; however, I shall soon get accustomed to
it, I suppose. But I always did hate getting up in the
dark even when we were going out fishing."
"You won't always get as comfortable a bed as this,
Walter; so don't expect it. The time will come ere long
when you will look back upon this as absolute luxury.
We are not likely to get straw another night, I can tell
you. Now, Fergus, bring that wallet here. We must
breakfast before we get in the saddle."
Walter came to the conclusion that breakfast eaten in
the dark was a very inferior meal to dinner before a
great fire; however, he kept his thoughts to himself, and,
as soon as he had finished, went to aid Larry in saddling
the horses.
"I suppose I can ride with you to-day, father?" he
said as he mounted.
"Yes; there will not be any military display by the
"Way. Many of the soldiers have got nothing in the way
of uniform at present. So you can ride with me. But
if any general officer comes along, you must draw off a


ORANGE AND GREEN.
little and drop behind with Larry, who will follow in the
rear of the troop."
As soon as daylight appeared the bugles gave the
signal, and the force, preceded by its cavalry, started on
its march toward the north.


GRANGE AND GREEN.
53
CHAPTEK IV.
THE SIEGE OF DERRY.
There was an air of excitement in the streets of
Derry. Knots of people were gathered talking excitedly,
women stood at the doors of all the houses, while men
moved aimlessly and restlessly about between the groups,
listened for a time to a speaker, and then moved on
again. The work of strengthening the defenses, which
had gone on incessantly for the last three months, had
ceased, while numbers of persons were gathered on the
walls looking anxiously toward the south. A general air
of gloom and despondency hung over the place; the
storm which Derry had braved was gathering around it
at last. King James and his troops were advancing
against it.
Opinion was strongly divided in the city; almost with-
out exception the older citizens deprecated resistance.
The walls, indeed, were strong and the position formi-
dable. The king had no artillery worth speaking of, and
the walls, manned by brave men, might well for a definite
time resist assault; but the stores of food could not long
support the large population now gathered in the town,
and there seemed no possibility whatever of assistance
from England before the horrors of famine would be upon
them. To what purpose, then, oppose resistance, which
must, even if successful, cause frightful sufferings to the
inhabitants, and which, if unsuccessful, would hand over
the city to the vengeance of James.


54
ORANGE AND GREEN.
The garrison had been strengthened by two regiments
and a vast quantity of supplies. But including every-
thing there were but provisions for ten days, and as many
weeks might elapse before assistance could come. The
younger and more ardent spirits were for resistance to
the last. "Better," they said, "die of hunger than sur-
render the Protestant stronghold to the Papists." Every
hour brought crowds of fugitives, the inhabitants of all
the villages deserting their homes at the approach of the
royal forces, and flying, with what goods they could
carry, to Derry.
Archdeacon Hamilton had arrived with a message from
the king, offering that if the city would, within four
days, surrender, there should be an amnesty to all for
past offenses, and that the property of all the inhabitants
should be respected. This proposition was now being
considered by the governor and his council, together with
all the principal officers of the English regiments.
John Whitefoot had been out all day, and had just re-
turned to his cousin's house, which was crowded with
fugitives, as the tanner had friends and connections in all
the villages, and had opened his doors to all who sought
shelter, until every room was filled.
It was a pitiful sight to see women with their babies in
their arms and their children gathered round them sit-
ting forlornly, almost indifferent to the momentous con-
sultation which was going on, and thinking only of their
deserted homes and wondering what had befallen them.
The men had for the most part been out in the streets
gathering news. The tanner's wife, assisted by two or
three of the women, was busy at the great fire on the
hearth, over which hung some huge pots in which broth
and porridge were being prepared. One by one the men
dropped in. No news had yet been heard as to the de-
cision of the council. It was dark when the tanner him-
self entered. His face was stern and pale.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
55
"It is settled," he said shortly, "the council have
broken up. I have just spoken to one of the members.
They and the officers are unanimously in favor of accept-
ing the terms of James."
Exclamations of anger broke from some of the men.
"I cannot say aught against it," the tanner said,
"though my heart feels well-nigh broken. Had we only
men here I should say let us fight to the last, but look at
all these women and children; think what thousands and
thousands of them are in the town. Truly I cannot
blame the council that they have decided not to bring
this terrible suffering upon the city."
"The Lord will provide for his own," a minister who
had come in with his flock said. "Friend, I had looked
for better things from you. I thought that you were
steadfast in the cause of the Lord, and now that the time
of trouble comes you fall away at once. Remember how
Sennacherib and his host died before Jerusalem. Can-
not the Lord protect Londonderry likewise?"
"The age of miracles is past," the tanner said. "Did
we not see in Germany how Magdeburg and other Protes-
tant cities were destroyed with their inhabitants by the
Papists? No, Brother Williams, the wicked are suffered
to work their will here when they are stronger than the
godly, and we must look for no miracles. I am ready to
fight, and, had the council decided otherwise, would have
done my share to the last, but my heart sickens as I look
round on the women, the weak, and ailing. Did James
demand that we should renounce our religion, I would
say let us all die by sword or famine rather than consent;
but he has offered toleration to all, that none shall suffer
for what has been done, and that the property as well as
the lives of all shall be respected. Truly it seems to me
that resistance would be not bravery but a sort of mad-
ness. There are promises of aid from England; but how


56
ORANGE AND GREEN.
long may we have to wait for them, and there are but tea
days' provisions in the town. If these English officers of
King William think that resistance is hopeless, why
should I, who know naught of war, set myself against
them?"
"Because they have not faith," the minister said, "and
you should have faith; because they think only of
carnal weapons, and you should trust to the Lord. Re-
member Leyden, how help came when all seemed lost."
"I do," the tanner replied, "and I remember how the
women and children suffered and died, how they dropped
in the streets and perished with famine in their houses; I
remember this, and I shrink from saying let us resist to
the end. I should rejoice if they had decided that Derry
should be deserted, that the women and children should
be sent away to shelter in the mountains of Donegal, and
that every man should march out and do combat with the
army of James. We are numerous and far better armed
than the Papists, and victory might be ours; but were it
otherwise, were every man fated to fall on the field, I
would still say let us march forward. It is not death
that I fear, but seeing these weak and helpless ones
suffer. I should not envy the feelings of the men who
decided on resistance, when the time came that the
women and children were dying of hunger around them.
There is a time to fight, and a time to sheathe the sword
and to wait until a chance of drawing it successfully
again arrives, and methinks that, having such good terms
offered, the present is the time for waiting."
The preacher waved his hand impatiently, and, wrap-
ping himself in his cloak, left the house without another
word. The next day the capitulation was signed, and
the following day the army of James was seen approach-
ing, and presently halted on a hill within cannon-shot of
the town.








ORANGE AND GREEN.
57
Londonderry stands in a bend of the river Foyle, and
the position which the army took up at once isolated it
from the surrounding country. The offer of capitulation
had already been sent out to General Hamilton by Cap-
tain White, the bearer receiving instructions to stipulate
that the army should not advance within four miles of
the town until all was ready to hand over the city. In
the meantime General Eosen, who was in chief command
of the army, stationed it so as to extend from one corner
of the bend of the river to the other, and so to cut off all
communication between the city and the surrounding
country; but in the course of the day a country gentle-
man named Murray made his way through their lines
with a body of cavalry and rode up to the gate of the
town.
The governor refused to open it, but in spite of his
orders some of the townspeople opened the gate, and
Murray rode into the town, and, going from point to
point, exhorted the people not to surrender but to resist
to the last, accusing the governor and council of foul
treachery in thus handing over the city.
The confusion and excitement in the streets was now
great, and while this was going on the governor sent a
trumpeter to the king requiring one hour's time before
the city should surrender.
Rosen took no notice of this, and, believing that all
was arranged, rode forward with the king and a portion
of the army. But Murray's exhortations and passionate
harangues had their effect; a number of the townspeople
ran to the walls, and, loading the cannon, opened, with
these and their muskets, a heavy fire on the approaching
troops. Several of the soldiers were killed, and among
them was Captain Troy, who was riding close to the
king.
Astonished at this unexpected resistance the troops


(JO
ORANGH AND GRKEN.
of energy and judgment as well as enthusiastic and
fanatical, and he at once gave evidence of his fitness for
the post, and set himself diligently to work to establish
order in the town.
He issued orders that all unable to bear arms who
wished to leave the town could do so, while the able-
bodied men, now formed into regiments, were assigned
every man his place and every regiment its quarters on
the walls. No less than thirty thousand fugitives, ex-
clusive of the garrison, were shut up in the walls of
Derry, and the army which was besieging the town num-
bered twenty thousand. The guns of the besiegers soon
opened fire, and those on the walls replied briskly. The
besiegers threw up works, but carried on the siege but
languidly, feeling sure that famine must ere long force
the town to surrender, and fearing, perhaps, to engage
the fresh and ill-trained levies against a multitude ani-
mated by the desperate resolution and religious fanaticism
of the defenders of the town.
Now that the die was once cast there was no longer
any difference of opinion among the inhabitants, and all
classes joined enthusiastically in the measures for de-
fense. All provisions in the town were given into one
common store to be doled out in regular rations, and so
made to last as long as possible; and as thsse rations were
from the first extremely small, the sufferings of the be-
sieged really began from the first day. John Whitefoot
found that there was but little for him to do, and spent
much of his time on the walls watching the throwing up
of works by the besiegers.
A regular cannonade was now kept up on both sides;
but though the shot occasionally fell inside the town, the
danger to the inhabitants from this source was but slight,
for of the six guns possessed by the besiegers rive
were very small, and one only was large enough to carry


ORANGE AND GRBEN.\
61
shell. All day the various chapels were open, and here
the preachers by their fiery discourses kept up the spirits
and courage of the people who thronged these buildings.
The women spent most of their time there, and the men,
when off duty from the walls, however fatigued they
might be with their labor, flocked at once to the chapels
to pray for strength to resist and for early succor.
Never were the whole population of the town more
deeply animated by religious excitement, never a whole
population more thoroughly and unanimously determined
to die rather than surrender.
When not upon the walls or in chapel John spent
much of his time in amusing the children, of whom there
were many in the tanner's house. The change from their
country quarters, the crowded town, the privation of
milk, and the scantiness and unfitness of their rations,
soon began to tell upon the little ones, and John felt
thankful indeed that his mind had been stored with
stories from his varied reading of the last two or three
years. With these he was able to interest and quiet the
children who sat round him with wrapt attention, while
the booming of the guns and the occasional rattling of
musketry outside passed unheeded.
Scarce a day passed without active fighting, the initia-
tive being always taken by the besieged, for in the royal
army the policy of blockade rather than assault was
steadily adhered to. The besieged, however, contin-
ually sallied out and attacked the parties engaged in
throwing up works. There was no settled plan of opera-
tions; but the commander on each portion of the walls
led out his men against the enemy whenever he thought
he saw a favorable opportunity. The fights which ensued
were stoutly contested, and many were killed, but no ad-
vantage was gained on either side. If it was the inten-
tion of the besieged to incite the Royalists to make an


02
ORANGE AND GREEN.
attack upon the city they failed altogether, and indeed
would have served their purpose better had they remained
quietly within the walls, for the energy and desperation
with which they fought were well calculated to deter
even the most energetic commander from attacking a
town defended by eight or nine thousand men animated
by such fiery energy.
So confident, indeed, were the besieged that the gates
were often left open, and taunting invitations to come
on and take Derry were shouted to the besiegers. The
supply of provisions found to be stored aay was vastly
greater than had been expected, for many of the fugi-
tives had brought in large stores, and a great number of
the inhabitants had been for weeks making preparation
for the siege by buying up quantities of grain and stor-
ing it in their cellars. Thus, up to the end of the first
month, although the allowance of food was short, no
real suffering was undergone by the inhabitants; but as
time went on the supplies doled out became smaller and
smaller, and dysentery and fever broke out in the
crowded town.
Fierce disputes arose between those belonging to the
Established Church and the Nonconformists, and it was
with the greatest difficulty that Governor Walker pre-
vented the two parties from engaging in open strife.
Day and night the besiegers' fire continued, and many
were killed by the shells which fell in the city. The
fighting men on the walls were far better off than those
who had nothing to do but to wait And suffer, and it was
among the women and children chiefly that disease at
first made its victims.
For a time the children of the families who had taken
refuge with the tanner remained healthy. The visitors
were lodged for the most part in the cellars, so as to be
in shelter from the fire of t*>« enemy's mortar; but John


66
ORANGE AND GREEN.
scanty rations to the weakest of the children, and he de-
termined to try and get them some food or to die in the
attempt. He set out at his usual hour in the evening.
The tide was high, but just running out, and entering
the river he floated down with the stream. Keeping
close under the bank, he passed the batteries which the
besiegers had erected there without notice, dived under
the great boom which they had constructed across the
river directly Kirk's expedition had retired, and con-
tinued to float down to the mouth of the river, where he
landed and boldly struck across the country, for he was
now beyond the lines of the besiegers.
He knew that his friend Walter was in the Royalist
army, for one of the last mails which entered the city
had told him that he was to accompany his father, and
that Captain Davenant's troop would most likely form
part of any army that might march for the north. By
the morning his clothes had dried upon him, and he then
boldly entered the Royalist camp, mingling with the
peasants who were bringing in provisions for sale. He
soon learned where Captain Davenant's troop was sta-
tioned and made his way thither. He stood watching
for some time until he saw Walter come out of a tent,
and he then approached him. Walter looked up, but did
not recognize in the thin and pallid lad before him his
former companion.
"Do you want anything?" he asked.
"Don't you know me, Walter?" John said.
Walter started and gazed at him earnestly.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed at last; "why, it can't
be John!"
"It is what remains of me," John replied with a faint
smile.
"Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself,
John?"


ORANGE AND GREEN.
67
"I have been starving in there," John said, pointing
to the city.
"Come into the tent, John," Walter said, grasping his
friend's arm and then letting it fall again with an ex-
clamation of horror at its thinness; "yon needn't be
afraid. My father is out—not that that would make any
difference."
John entered the tent, and sat exhausted upon a box.
Walter hastened to get some food, which he set before
him, and poured out a large cup of wine and water, and
then stood looking on in awed silence while John de-
voured his meal.
"I have wondered a thousand times," he said at last
when John had finished, "what you were doing in there,
or whether you left before the siege began. How did
you get out?"
"I floated down the river to the mouth beyond your
lines last night and then worked round here. I thought
I might find you."
"Well, lam glad indeed that you are out," Walter said.
"Every time the mortar sent a shell into the town I was
thinking of you, and wishing that I could share meals
with you, for of course we know that you are suffering
horribly in the town."
"Horribly!" John repeated. "You can have no idea
what it is, Walter, to see children suffer. As for men,
if it is the will of God, they must bear it, but it is awful
for children. I have had eighteen of them under my
charge through the siege, and to see them getting thinner
and weaker every day till the bones look as if they would
come through the skin, and their eyes get bigger and
bigger, and their voices weaker, is awful. At last I could
stand it no longer, and I have come out to fetch some
food for them."
"To fetch food!" Walter repeated. "Do you mean to
say you are thinking of going back again?"


OS
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"That I am," John said. "I am going to take some
food in to them. You will help me, won't you, Walter?
It isn't for the men that fight, but for little children who
know nothing about King James, or King William, or
the Protestants, or the Catholics, but who are just God's
creatures, and are dying of hunger. No one could
grudge food to infants like these."
"I will help you, of course, John," Walter said, "if I
can; but now tell me all about it."
John then gave an account of all he had been doing
throughout the siege.
"And now what have you been doing, Walter? Fight-
ing?"
"No. I have not been doing any fighting, except that
once or twice I was out with the troop, when they had a
skirmish with your horsemen, but I kept in the rear. I
hope, ere long, my father will let me enter, but he is
waiting to see what comes of it. No. I have been idle
enough. Well, of course, I know all the officers in the
cavalry now, and pretty nearly all the officers in the
camp, and then with these constant skirmishes and attacks
by your people and ours there is always plenty to interest
one. General Hamilton has been conducting the siege
lately, but General Eosen returned yesterday and took
the command; but there's really not much to do. We
know you cannot hold out much longer."
"I don't know," John said quietly. "I think that as
long as a man has-strength enough to hold his arms Derry
will not surrender. When you march in it will be to a city
of dead people. We had such hopes when the fleet came.
If the people could have caught Kirk they would have
torn him in pieces. He had five thousand soldiers on
board, and if he had landed them we could have sallied
out and fought instead of dying of hunger."
"Yes," Walter agreed, "we should have retired at


ORANGE AND GREEN.
09
once. We have only seven or eight thousand men here
now, and if five thousand English soldiers had landed we
must have raised the siege at once. I can tell you, that
though he is on the other side, I was almost as angry at
Kirk's cowardice as you must have been. I shall be glad
when this awful business is over. I knew it was bad
enough before, but after what you have told me about
the women and children I shall never think of anything
else, and I will gladly help you in any way I can. There
can't be any treason in trying to prevent children from
starving to death. What do you want me to do?"
"What would do the children more good than any-
thing, the women say, would be milk. If I could get a
keg that would hold two or three gallons, and a water-
tight box with about twenty pounds of bread, I could
swim back with them just as I came. I would show you
the exact spot where I landed, and would come out again
in four days. If you could put a supply ready for mc
every fourth night among the bushes, at the mouth of
the river, with a little lantern to show me the exact spot,
I could come down with the tide, get the things, and float
back again when the tide turns."
"I could do that easily enough," Walter said. "The
mouth of the river is quite beyond our lines. But it is
very risky for you, John. You might get shot if a
sentry were to see you."
"I do not think that there is much fear of that," John
said. "Just floating along as I do, without swimming at
all, there is only just my face above water, and it would
be hardly possible for a sentry to see me; but if I were
shot I could not die in a better cause."
"I think, John, if you don't mind, I should like to tell
my father. I am quite sure he would not object, and in
case you should happen to get caught you could refer at
once to him to prove that you were not a spy. They


70
ORANGE AND GREEN.
make very short work of spies. But if you were to de-
mand to be brought to Captain Davenant, and say you
were acting in accordance with his knowledge, no doubt
they would bring you."
"Do as you think best, Walter, but don't tell him unless
you feel almost sure that he will not object."
"There is no fear of that," Walter said. "He is con-
stantly lamenting over the sufferings of the people of
Derry, and has all along been in favor of attempting to
storm the place by force, so as to put a stop to all this
useless suffering. Now, John, you had better lie down
on that straw bed of mine and get a sleep. After that
you will be ready for another meal. I will tell Larry to
go out among the market people and buy three gallons of
milk and twenty pounds of bread. There are plenty of
small spirit kegs about which will do capitally for the
milk, and I don't think that we can have anything better
than one of them for the bread. We can head it up and
make it water-tight. How do you mean to get into the
town? I should have thought that they were likely to
be seized."
"So they would be," John said. "I shall hide them
in some bushes at the foot of the walls, at the side of the
town facing the river. There are only a few sentvies
there. Then when it is light I shall go in and tell my
cousin and get him after dark to lower a rope from the
wall. I shall of course be below to tie on the kegs. He
can then walk with them boldly through the street to our
house, which is only a short distance from that part «f
the walls. If any one saw him they would only suppose
he was taking home water from one of the wells."
John was soon fast asleep. Walter sat watching him
until, two hours later, his father returned with his troop.
John still slept on, while Walter told his father tb«
errand on which he had come.


ORANGE AND GliEEN.
71
"He is a brave lad," Captain Davenaiit said, "and I
hoior him for his conduct. It is not many men who at a
time like this would risk their lives for a number of chil-
dren who are not any relation to them. Certainly I will
gladly assist him. I am sick at heart at all this. My
only conso-ation is that it is brought on solely by the acts
of these men, who, though comparatively a handful, set
themselves up against the voice of all Ireland. If they
had risen when an English army arrived to their assist-
ance I should say nothing against it. As it is. without
doing any good to their cause, they are mNxumr ibis
horrible suffering upon thousands of women n.n*-i o.nuttren.
"By all means help the poor lad, and if vm mnma fall
into the hands of our people let him mentw mv w»amc.
Kosen would no doubt disapprove of it, but s cannot nelp
that. All the Irish gentlemen in the army w.uitfi at-ree
that I had done rightly, and even if they die-rat-*, my own
conscience would be quite sufficient for mp to act upon.
I am fighting against the king's enemies. n« warring
against women and children. How soundly **nnv jad
sleeps, and how changed he is! He is a n>«« «wov«r.on.
I should not have known him in the least, n t*?a i» the
condition into which a strong healthy la** .v>aR fallen,
what must the women and children have r.ssrereci! I
wish Kirk had not turned coward, but haw iitnaea his
troops. We could then have brought up owp scattered
forces, and could have fought them in a rair Held with
something like equal forces. That would have been
vastly more to my taste than starving them like rats in a
hole."


72
ORANGE AND GREEN.
CHAPTER V.
THE RELIEF OF DERRT.
It was late in the afternoon before John woke. He
started up as his eyes fell upon Captain Davenant.
"You have had a good sleep, and I hope you are all the
better for it," Captain Davenant said kindly. "My son
has been telling me all about your expedition, and I
honor you very much for the courage you have shown in
thus risking your life to get food for those starving chil-
dren. I quite approve of the promise Walter has given
to assist you, and if you should by any chance be taken
prisoner I will stand your friend."
John expressed his gratitude warmly.
"It is a sad thing in these civil wars, when friends are
arrayed against friends," Captain Davenant said. "Who
would have thought three months ago that you and
Walter would be arrayed on opposite sides? It is true
you are neither of you combatants, but I have no doubt
you would gladly have joined in some of the sallies, just
as Walter is eager to be riding in my troop. If we must
fight, I wish at any rate that it could be so managed that
all the suffering should fall upon the men who are willing
to take up the sword, and not upon the women and chil-
dren. My heart bleeds as I ride across the country. At
one time one comes upon a ruined village burned by the
midnight ruffians who call themselves rapparees, and
who are a disgrace to our cause; at another upon a place
sacked and ruined by one of the bands of horsemen from


ORANGE AND GREEN.
73
Enniskillen, who are as cruel and merciless as the rap-
parees. Let the armies fight out their quarrels, I say,
but let peaceful people dwell in quiet and safety. But
wholesale atrocities have ever been the rule on both sides
in warfare in Ireland, and will, I suppose, remain so to
the end. And now we are just going to have dinner,
and another hearty meal will do you good. Each night
when my son brings down the supplies for you he will
bring a substantial meal of cold meat and bread, and you
must give me your promise now that you will eat this at
once. You will need it after being so long,in the water,
and having another swim before you besides. Although
I approve of sending in milk for the children, I can be
no party to the supply of food for the garrison. Do you
promise?"
"Yes, sir, I promise," John said, "though I would
rather save all but a mouthful or two for the people who
are starving at home. Still, of course, if you insist upon
it, I will promise."
"I do insist upon it, John. The lives of these children
of yours depend on your life, and even one good meal
every four days will help you to keep enough strength
together to carry out the kind work you have under-
taken."
Larry now brought in the dinner. He had been told
by Walter of John's arrival, but he otherwise would have
failed to recognize in him the boy who had sometimes
come down to the village with Walter.
"Are you quite well, Larry?" John asked him.
"I am," Larry replied; "but I need not ask the same
question of yourself, for you are nothing but skin and
bone entirely. Dear, dear, I wouldn't have known you
at all, at all, and such a foinc color as .ye used to have."
"I don't think starving would suit you, Larry," Cap-
tain Davenant said with a smile.


74
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"Sure an' it wouldn't, yer honor. It's always ready to
eat I am, though, as mother says, the victuals don't seem
to do me much good anyway."
"You won't be able to come out and go back again the
same night next week, John," Captain Davenant said
presently; "the tide won't suit, so you must come up
here as you have done to-day. You will always find a
hearty welcome, and Walter shall go down and meet you
early in the morning near the mouth of the river, so you
can come up with him; and then, if you fall in with any
of the other parties, no questions will be asked. I think
every one in camp knows him now. I wonder what your
grandfather would say if he saw you sitting here at
dinner with Walter and me?"
John laughed.
"I am afraid he would disown me then and there with-
out listening to explanations."
"I have no doubt it's a sore grievance to him that he
is not in Derry at present," Captain Davenant said.
"I am sure it is," John replied; "but the fasting
would be a great trial to him. My grandfather is a cap-
ital trencherman; still, I am sure he would have borne his
part."
"That he would," Captain Davenant agreed; "he and
the men of his class are thorough fanatics, as I consider
them. Hard and pitiless as they proved themselves to
those against whom they fought, one cannot but admire
them, for they were heart and soul in their cause. There
was no flinching, no half-measures, no concessions for the
sake of expediency. On the ground on which they took
their stand they conquered or died. Would that a like
spirit animated all my countrymen!"
After nightfall Larry brought round Walter's horse
saddled and his own rough pony. Walter mounted the
former, and John the latter. The two kegs were slung
across Walter's horse.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
75
"Will you meet me at the clump of trees half a mile
out of camp, Larry?" Walter said, "in the dark no one
will notice the difference between you and John."
Captain Davenant had furnished Walter with a pass-
word, and now walked beside the two boys till they were
well beyond the camp, and then returned to his tent.
The lads made their way without meeting with any one
down to the mouth of the river; the kegs were then
taken off the horse and placed in the water—they floated
just above the surface.
"That is exactly right," John said; "they will not
show any more than will my face. When I come down
next time I shall fill them with water so as to keep them
just at this level."
"I am afraid the moon will be up next time, John."
"Yes, it will. I shall lay some boughs of bush across
my face and the kegs, so that there will be no fear of my
face showing; and if a sentry should happen to catch
sight of it he will suppose that it is merely a bush drift-
ing in the stream."
"Well, good-by, John, and may you get through with-
out trouble."
"I have no fear, Walter. I am in God's hands, and
He will take me safely through if He thinks fit."
The journey was achieved without detection, the only
difficulty being the sinking of the kegs under the boom;
this, however, was successfully accomplished, and by mid-
night the kegs were safely hidden in some bushes at the
foot of the wall, and there John lay down and waited for
morning.
As he entered the yard the children ran out to meet
him. There were no loud rejoicings; they had no longer
strength or spirit to shout and laugh; but the joy in the
thin, worn faces was more eloquent than any words could
have been.


76
ORA NGE AND OREEN.
"We have missed you so, John. We have wanted you
so much. Lucy and Kate, and Deby wore so bad yester-
day, and they did cry so for you. We were all so hun-
gry. We don't mind so much when you are here to talk
to us and tell us stories. Why did you stop away, John,
when we wanted you so?"
"I went away to see if I could manage to get you
something to eat."
"And did you?" was the anxious cry.
"I have got a little; but you must wait till evening,
anu then you will each have—" and he stopped.
"What, John? Oh, do tell us!"
"You will each have some milk and bread. Not much,
dear3," he went on, as there was a cry of gladness, which
was pitiful from the intensity of joy it expressed, "but
there will be some for to-night, and a little curds and
whey and bread for you to-morrow and next day, and I
hope always as long as this lasts. Now, go, dears, into
your castle. I will come to you presently. I have
brought you some water as usual."
"I am heartily glad to see you back, John," his cousin
said as he entered the house. "The children were in a
sad state without you yesterday. I suppose you can tell
me now what you have been doing. You told me you
would be away two nights, and begged me not to ask any
questions; but although I know you to be discret and
prudent, I have been worrying."
"I will tell you now," John said, and he recounted the
details of the expedition which he had accomplished.
"And you have swum the river twice, and been in the
camp of the Papists. Truly it is surprising, John, and I
know not what to do. Should your visit there be dis-
covered you will assuredly be accused of treachery."
"They may accuse me of what they like," John said
quietly. "I have done it, and I am going to do it again


ORANGE AND GREEN.
77
every fourth night, and there is the milk and bread at
the foot of the wall ready for you to haul up as soon as it
gets dark."
"It ought to be fairly divided," the tanner said.
"It will be fairly divided between our children," John
said; "but nobody else will get a drop or a crumb. I
have risked my life to get it for them. If other people
want to get it let them do the same. Besides, as I told
you, Captain Davenant and his son both procured it for
me for the sake of the childen, and them only, and I
should be breaking faith with them if any others touched
it save those for whom it was given me. It is little
enough among eighteen children for four days—a pound
of bread and a little over a pint of milk each. They must
each have a quarter of a pint when you bring it in to-
night, and the rest had better be curdled. That way it
will keep, and they can have a portion each day of curds
and whey, and a fourth share of their bread. It is little
enough; but I trust that it may keep life in them."
"Well, John, I will do as you say," the tanner said
after a pause. "It goes somewhat against my eon-
science; but, as you say, it will make but a meager por-
tion for each of them, and would be nothing were it
fairly divided; besides, you have brought it with the risk
of your life, and I know not that any save you have a
right to a voice in its partition."
Before the gates were closed John went out, and pres-
ently had the satisfaction of hearing a small stone drop
from the wall above him, followed presently by the end
of a rope. He sent up the kegs, and then lay down
among the bushes and enjoyed the satisfaction of think-
ing of the joy of the little ones when the milk and bread
were served out to them. As soon as the gates were open
in the morning he went in.
"Thank you, oh, so much, for the milk and bread last


78
OBANGE AND GREEN.
night. We heard how you had swum so far and gone
into danger to get it for us, and we're going to have some
more for breakfast."
"It is not much, dears," John said.
"Oh, no, it was not much; but it was so nice, and we
did all sleep so well last night—even little Lucy didn't
waken and cry once—and Ruth Hardy said we ought to
call you the Raven; but we don'tlikethat nameforyou."
"The Raven, Ruth!" John said, mystified. "Why did
you want to call me the Raven?"
"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it, dear John; but
you know that chapter that Master Williams read us the
other day about the ravens that fed somebody in a cave,
and we have been wishing the ravens would feed us; and
so you see when you sent us the milk last night I thought
you ought to be called the Raven. I did not mean any
harm."
"No, my dear, of course not, and you can all call me the
Raven if you like."
"No, no, John. You are John, and that's much better
than the Raven. They brought the man food, but they
didn't nurse him and tell him stories as you do."
"Now, run inside the castle," John said, "and I will
go in and get your breakfasts."
John soon returned with a great bowl of curds and
whey, a platter piled up with slices of bread and a score
of little mugs, and the feast began. Scarce a word was
said while the children were eating, their hunger was too
keen and their enjoyment too intense to admit of speech.
When each had finished their portion there was a general
exclamation.
"Oh, John, you haven't had any. Why didn't you
have some too?"
"Because there is only enough for you," he said.
"If I were to have some, and Cousin Josiah, and all the


ORANGE AND GREEN.
79
others, there would be a very little share for you; besides,
when I went out the day before yesterday I had as much
as I could eat."
"Oh, dear, that must have been nice," one of the boys
said. "Only think having as much as one can eat. Oh,
how much I could eat if I had it!"
"And yet I dare say, Tom," John said, "that some-
times before you came here, when you had as much as
you could eat, you used to grumble if it wasn't quite what
you fancied."
"I shall never grumble again," the boy said positively.
"I shall be quite, quite content with potatoes, if I can
but get enough of them."
"The good times will come again," John said cheerily.
"Now we will have a story. Which shall it be?"
As the children sat round him, John was delighted to
see that even the two scanty meals they had had had done
wonders for them. The listless, hopeless look of the last
few days had disappeared, and occasionally something
like a hearty laugh broke out among them, and an hour
later the tanner came to the entrance.
"Come to the walls with me, John."
"What is it?—what is the matter?" John said, as he
saw the look of anger and indignation on the wasted
features of his cousin.
"Come and see for yourself," the latter said.
When they reached the walls they found them crowded
with the inhabitants. Outside were a multitude of
women, children, and old men. These General Rosen,
with a refinement of cruelty, had swept in from the
country round and driven under the walls, where they
were left to starve, unless the garrison would take them
in and divide their scanty supply of food with them.
"It is monstrous," John cried, when he understood
the meaning of the sight.


80
ORANGE AND QUEEN.
"What are we to do?"
"We can do nothing," the tanner replied; "the coun-
cil have met, and have determined to keep the gates
closed. We are dying for the cause; they must do so
too; and they will not die in vain, for all Europe will cry
out when they hear of this dastardly act of cruelty."
The people outside were animated by a spirit as stern
as that of the besieged, and the women cried out to those
on the walls to keep the gates shut and to resist to the
last, and not to heed them.
The ministers went out through the gates and held
services among the crowd, and the people on the walls
joined in the hymns that were sung below. So for three
days and nights the people within and without fasted
and prayed. On the third day a messenger arrived from
King James at Dublin ordering General Rosen at once to
let the people depart.
The indignation among the Irish gentlemen in the
camp at Rosen's brutal order had been unbounded, and
messenger after messenger had been sent to Dublin,
where the news excited a burst of indignation, and James
at once countermanded the order of the general. The
gates were opened now, and the people flocked out and
exchanged greetings with their friends. A few able-
bodied men in the crowd entered the town to share in its
defense, while a considerable number of the women and
children from within mingled with them and moved
away through the lines of the besiegers.
John had the day before gone out when the gates were
opened for the preachers, and at night had again safely
made the passage to the mouth of the river and back.
He found the lantern burning among the bushes, and
two kegs placed beside it, with a bountiful meal of bread
and meat for himself.
So the days went on, each day lessening the number of


OR A NO K AND G H KEN.
81
the inhabitants of the town. Fever and famine wtre
making terrible ravages, and the survivors moved about
the streets like living skeletons, so feeble and weak now
that they could scarce bear tbe weight of their arms.
On the 30th of July three ships were seen approaching
the mouth of the river. They were part of Kirk's squad-
ron, which had all this time been lying idle almost within
sight of the town. The news of his conduct had excited
such anger and indignation in England that at last, in
obedience to peremptory orders from London, he pre-
pared to make the attempt; although, by sending only
two store-ships and one frigate, it would almost seem as
if he had determined that it should be a failure. The
besiegers as well as the besieged saw the three ships ad-
vancing, and the former moved down to the shore to
repel the attempt; the batteries on either side of the
boom were manned, and from them, and from the in-
fantry gathered on the banks, a heavy fire was opened as
the ships approached.
So innocuous was the fire of the artillery that it has
been supposed that Kirk had previously bribed the officers
commanding the forts. At any rate the ships suffered no
material damage, and, returning the fire, advanced
against the boom. The leading store-ship dashed against
it and broke it, but the ship swerved from her course
with the shock and struck the ground. A shout of dis-
may burst from those on the walls, and one of exultation
from the besiegers, who rushed down to board the ves-
sel. Her captain, however, pointed all his guns forward,
and discharged them all at the same moment, and the
recoil shook the vessel from her hold on the ground, and
she floated off, and pursued her way up the river, fol-
lowed by her consorts.
The delay of Kirk had cost the defenders of London-
derry more than half their number. The fighting men


ORANGE AND GREEN.
had, either by disease, famine, or in the field, lost some
five thousand, while of the non-combatants seven thou-
sand had died. The joy and exultation in the city as the
two store-ships ranged up under its walls were un-
bounded. Provisions were speedily conveyed on shore,
and abundance took the place of famine. Five days
later General Kosen raised the siege and marched away
with his army, which had in the various operations of
the siege, and from the effect of disease, lost upward of
three thousand men.
"This has been a bad beginning, Walter," Captain
Davenant said, as they rode away from the grounds on
which they had been so long encamped. "If the whole
force of Ireland does not suffice to take a single town,
the prospect of our waging war successfully against Eng-
land is not hopeful."
"It seems to ine that it would have been much better
to have left Derry alone, father," Walter said.
"It would have been better as it has turned out,
Walter; but had the king taken the place, as he ex-
pected, without difficulty, he would have crossed with a
portion of the army to Scotland, where a considerable
part of the population would at once have joined him.
The defense of Derry has entirely thwarted that plan,
and I fear now that it will never be carried out. How-
ever, it has had the advantage of making soldiers out of
an army of peasants. When we came here officers and
men were alike ignorant of everything relating to war;
now we have, at any rate, learned a certain amount of
drill and discipline, and I think we shall give a much
better account of ourselves in the open field than we
have done in front of a strong town which we had no
means whatever of storming. Still it has been a fright-
ful waste of life on both sides, and with no result beyond
horribly embittering the feeling of hatred which unfor-


84
ORANGE AND GREEN.
own house. The day after his return home Walter went
over to give Jabez Whitefoot and his wife news of John,
from whom they had heard nothing since a fortnight be-
fore the siege had begun.
"Your son is alive and well," were his first words. "He
has been all through the siege of Derry, and has behaved
like a hero."
"The Lord be praised!" Jabez said, while his wife
burst into tears of relief, for she had gone through ter-
rible anxiety during the long weeks that Derry had been
suffering from starvation.
"But how do you know, Master Walter?" Jabez asked.
"Seeing that you were on the side of the besiegers how
could you tell what was passing on the inside of the walls?
How do you know John is alive?"
"Because I saw him first a month before the end of
the siege, and because he came regularly afterward to
fetch away some provisions which I had placed for him."
And Walter then gave a full account of John's visit to
the camp in search of food for the children who were
sheltered in the tanner's house.
"That is just like John," his mother said; "he was ever
thoughtful for others. I am more pleased a hundred
times that he should have so risked his life to obtain
food for the little ones than if he had taken part in the
fighting and proved himself a very champion of Derry."
Parliament had met on the 7th of May. The session
had been opened by a speech from the throne, in which
the king commended the loyalty of his Irish subjects, de-
clared his intention to make no difference between
Catholics and Protestants, and that loyalty and good con-
duct should be the only passport to liis favor. He stated
his earnest wish that good and wholesome laws should be
enacted for the encouragement of trade and of the man-
ufactures of the country, and for the relief of such as


ORANGE AND GREEN.
85
had suffered injustice by the Act of Settlement; that is,
the act by which the lands of the Catholics had been
handed over wholesale to Cromwell's soldiers and other
Protestants.
Bills were speedily passed abolishing the jurisdiction
of English courts of law and of the English parliament in
Ireland, and other bills were passed for the regulation of
commerce and the promotien of ship-building. The bill
for the repeal of the Act of Settlement was brought up
on the 22d of May; it was opposed only by the Protes-
tant bishops and peers, and became law on the 11th of
June. Acts of attainder were speedily passed against
some two thousand Protestant landed proprietors, all of
whom had obtained their lands by the settlement of
Cromwell.
A land-tax was voted to the king of twenty thousand
pounds a month, and he proceeded to raise other levies
by his private authority. The result was that the re-
sources of Ireland were speedily exhausted, money al-
most disappeared, and James, being at his wits' end for
funds, issued copper money stamped with the value of
gold and silver; and a law was passed making this base
money legal tender, promising that at the end of the war
it should be exchanged for sterling money.
This was a measure which inflicted enormous loss and
damage. At first the people raised the prices of goods
in proportion to the decrease in the value of the money,
but James stopped this by issuing a proclamation fixing
the prices at which all articles were to be sold; and hav-
ing done this, proceeded to buy up great quantities of
hides, butter, corn, wood, and other goods, paying for
them all with a few pounds of copper and tin, and then
shipping them to France, where they were sold on his
own account. It need hardly be said that conduct of
this kind speedily excited great dissatisfaction, even
among those who were most loyal in his cause.


8G
ORANGE AND GREEN.
Captain Davenant was shocked at the state of things
he found prevailing in Dublin. "I regret bitterly," he
said when alone with his wife and mother, "that I have
taken up the sword. Success appears to me to be hope-
less. The folly of the Stuarts is incredible; they would
ruin the best cause in the world. With a spark of wis-
dom and firmness James might have united all Ireland in
his cause, instead of which he has absolutely forced the
Protestants into hostility. His folly is only equaled by
his rapacity, and both are stupendous."
This was said one evening when he had just returned
from a visit to Dublin, depressed and disheartened by all
he heard there.
"I am astonished, Fergus," his mother said sharply,
"to hear you speak in that way. "Who would have
thought that it was a Davenant who was speaking!
Doubtless there have been mistakes, as was only natural,
but everything will come right in time. I have been
longing for you to come home, looking forward with such
joy to welcome you as the possessor of the broad lands of
the Davenants. Thank God I have lived to see the res-
toration of my dear husband's lands, and the discom-
fiture of those Cromwellian knaves who have so long pos-
sessed them. It was a grand day when the act was
passed repealing all Cromwell's grants handing over the
best part of Ireland to his soldiers; and I saw in the
Gazette, among the two thousand grants specially men-
tioned as canceled was that of the Davenant estate to
&et>naiiiah Whitefoot. I am told that the old man and
his son have taken no notice of the act, but go about
their work as if they were still the owners of the land;
but of course, now that you are back, there will soon be
an end of this."
Captain Davenant was silent. -t
"I shall be in no hurry, mother," he said after a pause.



JOHN EAGERLY DEVOURED THE BOOKS WHICH WALTER LENT HIM.



1


OliANGE AND GREEN.
87
"It is true that an act of the Irish parliament has can-
celed the iniquitous work of Cromwell, and restored the
land to its rightful possessors. I do not say that this is
not just, but I am quite sure that it is not politic. These
men have been planted on the soil for two generations;
they have built houses and tilled the fields, and made
homes for themselves. It was essentially a case for ar-
rangement, and not for setting right the first act of con-
fiscation by another as sweeping. It has rendered the
Protestants desperate; it has enlisted the sympathy of
the Protestants of England in their behalf, and has done
much to popularize the war there. It would have been
vastly wiser had a commission been ordered to examine
into the circumstances of each case.
"In the great proportion of cases the estates which the
Cromwellites took possession of were vastly larger than
they were able to till themselves; and, as in the case of
Zephaniah Whitefoot, they let out the greater portion to
tenants. All these lands I would have restored to their
former owners, leaving to the Cromwellites the land they
till themselves and the houses they have built upon it.
"As to turning the Whitefoots out, I shall certainly
take no step that way at present: it will be time enough
to do so when King James is firmly established on the
throne. As things go at present I have but very faint
hopes that will ever be. He has utterly failed to con-
quer the Protestants of the north of Ireland, and we
have all the strength" of England to cope with yet. It
will be well, mother, if at the end of this strife we can
keep Davenant Castle over our heads, with the few acres
that still remain to us."
Two days afterward Captain Davenant mounted his
horse and rode over to the Whitefoots. Zephaniah and
Jabez came to the door.
"I suppose you have come over to turn us out, Fergus


88
OBANGE AND QREEN.
Davenant," the old man said; "but I warn you that it
will not be for long. The triumph of the ungodly is
short, and the Lord will care for his own people."
"You are mistaken," Captain Davenant said quietly.
"I have come over for no such purpose. I am of course
aware that parliament has passed a law reinstating me in
my father's lands; but I came over to tell you that at
present I do not propose to take advantage of that law.
I shall do nothing until this war is at an end. If King
William's cause triumphs, the act will remain a dead
letter; if King James' wins, and the act is upheld, I wish
to tell you that I shall never disturb you in the land
which you yourselves occupy. Your tenants, on the
other hand, will be my tenants; but in the house which
you have built, and in the fields which you have tilled,
you will remain masters.
"I have thought the matter over, and this appears to
me to be a just settlement, and one which I give you my
-yord that I will hold to should King James triumph in
die end. I think that the law turning out the Protes-
tant settlers from the land which they have held for
forty years is well-nigh as unjust as that which gave it to
them."
"I will take no gifts at the hands of the wicked,"
Zephaniah began, but Jabez interrupted him.
"Hush, father!" he said, "it is not thus that kindness
should be met." Then he stepped forward, leaving his
father too surprised at this sudden assumption of com-
mand on the part of his son to interrupt him.
"Captain Davenant," he said, "I thank you most sin-
cerely on the part of myself, my wife and son, and, I may
say, of my father too, although at present he may not
realize the kindness of your offer. I do not think it
likely that if James Stuart prevails, and Ireland is rent
from England, we shall avail ourselves of your offer, for


ORANGE AND GREEN.
89
we have more than sufficient of this world's goods to re-
move to England, and there settle ourselves and our son,
for assuredly Ireland would be no place where a Protestant
could dwell in peace and quietness. Nevertheless, I
thank you heartily, and shall ever gratefully bear in
mind the promise you have made, and the fact that, al-
though you have the power to turn us from our home,
you have stayed from doing so. There has been much
wrong done on both sides; and, from a boy, when I have
seen you ride into or from your home, I have felt that I
and mine wronged you by being the possessors of your
father's lands."
"They were the spoil of battle," Zephaniah broke in
fiercely.
"Yes, they were the spoil of battle," his son repeated;
"but there are limits even to the rights of conquerors. I
have read history, and I know that nowhere but in Ire-
land did conquerors ever dispossess whole peoples and
take possession of their lands."
"The Israelites took the land of Canaan," Zephaniah
interrupted.
"I am speaking of modern wars, father. For centuries
no such act of wholesale spoliation was ever perpetrated;
and considering, as I do, that the act was an iniquitous
one, although we have benefited by it, I consider the
offer which Captain Davenant has made to us to be a
noble one. I have to thank yon, sir, also, for your kind-
ness to my son—a kindness which doubtless saved his life
as well as that of many others in Londonderry; and
believe me that, whatever comes of this horrible war, I and
mine will never forget the kindnesess we have received at
your hands."
"The affair was my son's rather than mine," Captain
Davenant said; "but I was glad to be able to assist him
in aiding your brave boy. He is a noble fellow, and you
have every reason to be proud of him."


90
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"I must add my thanks to those of my husband,"
Hannah said, coming out from the house, having listened
to the conversation through an open window. "We had
suffered so until your son brought us news of John two
days since. It is strange, indeed, that your son should
have been the means of saving one of a household whom
he cannot but have learned to regard as the usurpers of
his father's rights. It was but last night I was reading
of Jonathan and David, and it seemed to me that as-
suredly the same spirit that they felt for each other was
in our sons."
"The boys are very fond of each other, Mrs. White-
foot, and I am glad of it; they are both manly fellows,
and there is no reason why the feuds of the fathers
should descend to the children."
With a cordial good-by Capatin Davenant rode off.
"Jabez," Zephaniah said, as they turned into the
house, "I had not thought to hear a son of mine rise in
rebellion against his father."
"Father," Jabez said, "for forty-five years I have been
a good son to you; but it is time that I took my stand.
It seems to me that the principles upon which the sol-
diers of Cromwell fought were the principles which
animated the Israelites of old. Exodus, Judges, and
Kings were the groundwork of their religion, not the
Gospels. It has gradually been borne upon me that such
is not the religion of the New Testament, and while I
seek in no way to dispute your right to think as you
choose, I say the time has come when I and my wife will
act upon our principles."
"It is written, Honor thy father and thy mother,"
Zephaniah said sternly.
"Ay, father, I have honored you, and I shall honor you
to the end; but a man has no right to give up his con-
science to his father; for it is written also that a man


ORANGE AND GREEN.
91
shall leave father and mother, and wife and home to
follow the Lord. I have heard, you, father, and the
elders of our church, quote abundant texts from Scrip-
ture, but never one that I can recall from the New Testa-
ment. Hitherto I have been as an Israelite of Joshua's
time, henceforward I hope to be a Christian. I grieve to
anger you, father, and for years I have held my peace
rather than do so; but the time has come when the
spirit within me will no longer permit me to hold my
peace. In all worldly matters I am still your obedient
son, ready to labor to my utmost to gather up wealth
which I do not enjoy, to live a life as hard as that of the
poorest tenant on our lands; but, as touching higher
matters, I and my wife go our own way."
Without a word Zephaniah took his hat and strode
away from the house, and, after much angry communing
with himself, went to the minister and deacons of his
chapel, and laid the facts of the rebellion before them
and asked their advice.
They were in favor of peace, for two of them were his
tenants, and they knew that the time could not be very
far off when Jabez would take the old man's place, and
it would be a serious matter indeed to the chapel were he
to be driven from its fold.
"We cannot expect that all shall see with our eyes,
Zephaniah," the minister said, "and, indeed, the offer
which thou sayest the man Davenant made was a gener-
ous one. It would be well indeed for our brethren
throughout Ireland did all the original owners of their
lands so treat them. Thousands who but a few months
since were prosperous men are now without a shelter
wherein to lay their heads. The storm is sweeping over
us, the elect are everywhere smitten, and should James
Stuart conquer, not a Protestant in Ireland but must
leave its shores. Therefore, although I would counsel


92
ORANGE AND GREEN.
no giving up of principle, no abandonment of faith, yet
I would say that this is no time for the enforcement of
our views upon weak vessels. I mourn that your son
should for the time have fallen away from your high
standard, but I say it were best to be patient with him."
At home there were few words spoken after Zephaniah
had gone out. Hannah had thrown her arms round her
husband's neck, and had said:
"I thank God for your words, Jabez. Now I am proud
of you as I have never been proud before, that you have
boldly spoken out for liberty of conscience. I feel like
one who has for many years been a slave, but who is at
last free."
Jabez kissed her, but was silent. To him it had been
a great trial to rebel; he knew that he was right, and.
would have done it again if necessary; but it was a ter-
rible thing to him to have openly withstood the father to
whom he had from childhood rendered almost implicit obe-
dience. On his return Zephaniah did not renew the sub-
ject; but from that time there was a great change in the
moral atmosphere of the house. Zephaniah was still
master in all matters of daily work; but in other respects
Jabez had completely emancipated himself.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
95
selves with the greatest skill and bravery. As fast as
breaches were battered in their walls they repaired them,
and repulsed every attempt of the besiegers to gain a
footing in the town.
The garrison were badly supplied with ammunition,
but they stripped the lead from the roofs of the castle
and church to make bullets. But all this time no at-
tempt whatever was made to relieve them. The French
and Irish generals were disputing as to what was the best
plan of campaign. The king was busy making money
with his trade with France; and, after holding out until
they had burned their last grain of powder, the gallant
garrison were forced to capitulate. Schomberg was too
glad to get the place to insist on hard terms, and the
garrison marched out with all the honors of war—drums
beating, and matches alight—and were conveyed with all
their stores, arms, and public and private property to the
nearest Irish post.
The effect of this determined resistance on the part of
the little garrison at Carrickfergus was to impress Schom-
berg with the fact that the difficulty of the task he had
undertaken was vastly greater than he had supposed.
The success with which Londonderry had defended itself
against the Irish army had impressed him with the idea
that the levies of King James were simply contemptible;
but the fighting qualities of the garrison of Carrickfer-
gus had shown him that they were a foe by no means to
be despised, and convinced him that the force at his com-
mand was altogether inadequate to his necessities.
He therefore moved south with extreme caution. He
found the country altogether wasted and deserted. The
Protestants had long since fled, and were gathered round
Derry and Enniskillen. The Catholics had now deserted
their homes at his approach, and the troops in their re-
treat had burned and wasted everything, so that he had


9(5
ORANGE AND GREEN.
no means of subsistence for his army, and was obliged to
rely upon the fleet which he ordered to follow him down
the coast. Schomberg was soon joined by three regi-
ments of Enniskillen horse.
The appearance of these troops astonished the English.
They resembled rather a horde of Italian banditti than a
body of European cavalry. They observed little order in
their military movements, and no uniformity of dress or
accouterment. Each man was armed and clad according
to his own fancy, and accompanied by a mounted servant
carrying his baggage. But, like the Cossacks whom they
closely resembled, they were distinguished by an extreme
rapidity of movement, and a fierceness and contempt of
all difficulty and danger. They calculated neither
chances nor numbers, but rushed to the attack of any foe
with a ferocity and fanaticism which almost insured suc-
cess, and they regarded the slaughter of a Papist as an
acceptable service to the Lord. They plundered wher-
ever they went, and were a scourge to the Irish Protes-
tants as well as Catholics.
The troops furnished by Derry were similar in char-
acter to those from Enniskillen. They could not endure
the restraints of discipline, and were little use in acting
with the regular army, and, like the Cossacks, were
formidable only when acting by themselves. Schomberg
and his successor, and, indeed, the whole of the English
officers, soon came to abhor these savage and undisci-
plined allies.
Still the Irish army made no move. Report had mag-
nified Schomberg's strength to more than twice its real
numbers, and the military leaders could not believe that,
after so many months of preparation, William had dis-
patched 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


ORANGE AND GREEN.
97
should be abandoned, and that the Irish army should be
concentrated at Athlone and Limerick; but Tyrconnell
went to Drogheda, where the council of war was sitting,
and strenuously opposed this, promising that by the next
night twenty thousand men should be assembled there.
Expresses were sent out in all directions; and by forced
marches the Irish troops stationed in Munster directed
their course to Drogheda, in high spirits and anxious to
meet the enemy. Schomberg, although he had been re-
inforced by six thousand men from England, fell back at
the news of the gathering, and formed an intrenched
camp in a strong position between Dundalk and the sea.
His approaches were covered by mountains, rivers, and
morasses; his communication was open to the sea, and
here he resolved to wait for reinforcements.
Captain Davenant became more and more despondent
as to the cause in which he had embarked.
"Without the king and without his French allies," he
said bitterly to his wife, "we might hope for success; but
these are enough to ruin any cause. Were the king's
object to excite discontent and disgust among his sub-
jects, he could not act otherwise than he is now doing.
His whole thoughts are devoted to wringing money out
of the people, and any time he has to spare is spent upon
superintending the building of the nunneries in which he
is so interested. As to the French, they paralyze all mil-
itary operations. They regard us as an inferior race, and
act as if, with their own five or six thousand troops, they
could defeat all the power of England. It is heart-
breaking seeing our chances so wasted.
"Had advantage been taken of the enthusiasm excited
when King James landed; had he himself been wise and
prudent, disinterested for himself, and desirous of ob-
taining the affections of all classes; and had he brought
with him none of these French adventurers, he would


OS
OR A NG E AND GRE EN.
long ere this have been undisputed King of Ireland from
end to end, and we should have stood as one people in
arms ready to oppose ourselves to any force that England
could send against us. Never were chances so frittered
away, never such a succession of blunders and folly. It
is enough to break one's heart."
"I do hope, father, that when the troop marches again
you will take me as cornet. I am six months older than
I was, and have learned a lot in the last campaign. You
have not filled up the place of Cornet O'Driscoll. I did
think, when he was killed in that last fight you had be-
fore Derry, you would have appointed me."
"In some respects I am less inclined than ever,
Walter," Captain Davenant said; "for I begin to regard
success as hopeless."
"It will make no difference, father, in that way, for if
we are beaten they 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 should certainly
like to do my best for Ireland."
"Well, we will think about it," Captain Davenant said;
and Walter was satisfied, for he felt sure that his father
would finally accede to his wishes.
It was late at night when the mounted messenger
dashed up to the door of the 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 is to 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 men quartered there to saddle and mount in-
stantly and ride up to the castle, while another on horse-
back started for Bray to get the main body under arms.
Mrs. Davenant busied herself in packing the wallets of


ORANGE AND GREEN.
99
her husband and son. She was very pale, but she said
little.
"God bless yon both," she said when all was finished,
"and bring you back 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 wish you to
draw back from that. When home and religion and
country are at stake 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 on their horses, which were waiting at
the door, took their place at the head of the party which
had come up from the village, and rode away into the
darkness, while the two Mrs. Davenants gave free vent
to the tears which they had hitherto so bravely restrained.
At Bray Captain Davenant found the rest of his troop
drawn up in readiness, and after a brief inspection, to
see that all were present with their proper arms and ac-
couterments, he started with them for Dublin, and after
a few hours' rest there continued his way toward Drog-
heda.
The army then proceeded north to Dundalk, and bitter
was the disappointment of the troops when, on arriving
there, they found that Schomberg, instead of advancing
to give battle, had shut himself lip in the 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 of battle within sight of the in-
vaders' lines. Schomberg was not to be tempted out,
and as the position appeared to be too strong to be at-
tacked, the Irish were forced to endeavor to reduce it by
the slow process of starvation. The English army was
soon reduced to pitiable straits—not from hunger, for
they were able to obtain food from the ships, but from
disease. The situation of the camp was low and un-


100
ORANGE AND GREEN.
healthy. Fever broke out, and swept away vast numbers
of the men.
The Dutch and Enniskilleners suffered comparatively
little—both were accustomed to a damp climate, but of
the English troops nearly eight thousand died in the two
months that the blockade lasted. Had James maintained
his position the whole of the army of Schomberg must
have perished; but, most unfortunately for his cause, he
insisted on personally conducting operations, and when
complete success was in his grasp he marched his army
away in the middle of November to winter quarters,
thereby allowing Schomberg to move with the eight
thousand men who remained to him from the pest-
stricken camp to healthier quarters.
The disgust of those of James' officers who under-
stood anything of war at this termination of the cam-
paign was extreme. The men, indeed, were eager to re-
turn to their homes, but would gladly have attempted an
assault on the English camp before doing so; and as the
defenders were reduced to half their original strength,
while most of the survivors were weakened by disease,
the attack would probably have been successful. James
himself was several times on the point of ordering an at-
tack, but his own vacillation of character was heightened
by the conflicting counsels of his generals, who seemed
more bent on thwarting each other than on gaining the
cause for which they fought.
The cavalry were not idle while the blockade of Schom-
berg's camp continued, frequently making excursions
over the country to bring in cattle for the army, for the
villagers had for the most part deserted their homes, and
herds of cattle were grazing without masters. One day
Captain Davenant's troop had ridden some thirty miles
out of camp, and had halted for the night in a village.
In the morning they broke up into small parties and scat-


ORANGE AiiD &REEN.
101
tered round the country. Walter, with fifteen of the
troopers, had collected some cattle and stopped for an
hour to feed and rest the horses in a deserted village.
He took the precaution to place two or three men on
sentry round it.
The men were sitting on the doorsteps eating the food
they had brought with them, when one of the outposts
dashed in at full gallop, shouting that the enemy were
upon them; but his warning came too late, for close be-
hind him came a body of wild-looking horsemen, shout-
ing and yelling. There was a cry of "The Enniskillen-
ers!" and the men ran to their horses. They had
scarcely time to throw themselves in the saddle when the
Enniskilleners charged down. For a minute or two there
was a confused medley, and then three or four of the
troopers rode off at full speed hotly pursued by the En-
niskilleners.
Walter had discharged his pistols and drawn his sword,
but before he had timo to strike a blow his horse was
rolled over by the rush of the enemy, and as he was fall-
ing he received a blow on the head from a saber which
stretched him insensible on the ground. He was roused
by two men turning him over and searching his pockets.
A slight groan burst from his 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 has spoken to him. We may be able to get
some information from him. We can finish him after-
ward."
Walter lay with his eyes closed. He well knew that the
Enniskilleners took no prisoners, but killed all who fell
into their hands, and he determined to show no signs of
returning consciousness. Presently he heard the sound
of a party of horsemen returning, and by the exclama-


102 ORANGE AND GREEN.
tions of 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 put his hand to his
heart.
"He is alive."
"Very well," another voice said. "Then we will take
him with us. He is an officer, 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 a horse with his back to that of the rider.
A rope was wound several times round his body. He re-
mained perfectly passive, with his head hanging down on
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 in-
sensibility, for the pain of his wound and the loss of
blood overpowered him, and for some time he was un-
conscious. After two hours' riding the troop was halted.
Walter felt the rope taken off him. Then he was lifted
down, dragged a short distance, and thrown down on
some straw. Then a door shut, and he heard a key turned.
He felt sure that he was alone, but for some time lay
perfectly quiet, as it was possible that one of the men
might have remained to watch him.
After a quarter of an hour, hearing not the slightest
sound, he opened his eyes and looked round. He was,
as he supposed, alone. The place in which he was lying
was a stable, lighted only by a small opening high up in
the wall. Certain, therefore, that he was not overlooked,
he made an effort to rise to his feet, but he was so weak
and giddy that he was obliged for some time to vemain
leaning against the wall. Seeing a bucket in one corner,


104
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"Now, young fellow," one said sharply, "tell us what
corps you belong to."
Walter looked stupidly at his questioner, but made no
answer.
"Answer my question," the man said, leveling a pistol
at him, "or I will blow 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 senses yet. It's no use shooting him now,
after we have had the trouble of bringing 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 and roast him over it. There, take him back
to the stable and give him a drink of water. I don't
want him to slip through our fingers after the trouble we
have had with him."
Walter was taken back as before to the stable, and one
of the men brought 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 again closed and
locked, and Walter was alone. He rose at once to his
feet, and felt that his sleep had greatly refreshed and
strengthened him.
"I will have another sleep before I try," he said to
himself. "It will not be light till six, and it must be
eight or nine o'clock now. I must make 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 many sentries. These fellows are not real sol-
diers, and no doubt they will all be sound asleep in a
couple of hours."


ORANGK AND GREEN.
105
So saying, he again lay down, and was speedily asleep.
When he woke he felt sure that he had not exceeded the
time he had given himself. He listened intently. He
could hear a low confused sound, which he knew was
made by horses feeding, but he could hear no human
voices. He drank the rest of the water in the mug, then
he turned up the bucket, placed it under the opening,
and mounted on it.
His first spring failed to reach the sill, and he stood
for a few minutes before making another attempt. He
knew that it was a matter of life or death, for he had no
doubt whatever that, even if he gave the required infor-
mation, which he was determined not to do, however
much he might suffer, he would be shot afterward. He
braced himself to the utmost, took a long breath, and
then sprang. His fingers caught on the ledge of stone-
work, 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 to enable him the better
to avail himself of the inequalities in the stone-work.
It was a desperate struggle; and when he got his
shoulders in the opening, which was just wide enough to
admit them, he lay for three or four minutes panting
heavily, with the perspiration streaming down his face.
The aperture was too small to admit of his turning in
any way, and there was nothing for it, as he knew, but
to drop headforemost.
Gradually he drew himself through the opening, low-
ering himself as much as he could by holding on to the
upper edge by his feet. Then stretching out his arms
to save himself, he let go. Fortunately the ground was
soft, for a garden adjoined the stable; but the shock was
a heavy one, and he lay for a minute or two without moT -
ing, having some doubt whether he had not broken his
neck. Then he got up and listened.


106
ORANGE AND GBEEN.
Everything was still and quiet, and indeed his fall had
been almost noiseless; he rose to his feet, felt along the
wall until he encountered a low paling, climbed over it,
and was in the road. He had, when he jumped for the
window, tied his boots to his back, and now carried them
in his hand. The night was very dark; but his eyes, ac-
customed to the greater darkness of the stable, had no
difficulty in following the road. He walked slowly, for
the exertion he had undergone and the shock of the fall
had drawn greatly from his small stock of strength.
After going a quarter of a mile he put on his boots,
and, climbing a wall of sods which bordered the roads
struck across country. There were no stars to guide
him, and a slight mist had begun to fall. There was but
little 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 the rain falling upon the right
side of his face; and he knew that, by so continuing, he
was going in a tolerably straight line. As near as he
could tell he walked for two hours, and then, utterly ex-
hausted, lay down on the lee side of a turf wall.
There was as yet no gleam of light in the sky, and in a
very few minutes he was again sound asleep. He woke
up with a feeling of bitter cold, and on rising found that
his limbs were completely stiffened by the wet. It was
morning now, the wind had got up, and a driving rain
shut out the view on all sides. Walter stamped his feet
and swung his arms for some time to restore the circu-
lation.
He had no idea in which direction he had been travel-
ing, for he did not know 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
lain down under the lee of the wall, it was now the
weather side. He walked in the same direction as before


ORANGE AND GREEN.
107
for two hours, and could then go no further. He had
seen no signs of human habitation, and had not crossed
a road or even a footpath. Since starting in the morn-
ing he had passed no more walls or fences, and, as far as
his eye could reach through the driving rain, nothing was
to be seen save a desolate expanse of moor and bog. He
was at any rate free from pursuit for the time, and he
thought more of obtaining food and shelter than of the
Enniskilleners.
It was useless pushing further on, even had he been
able to do so, while the rain lasted; for he might have
passed within a quarter of a mile of a habitation without
seeing it. He accordingly threw himself down beside
some low bushes, which afforded him some slight protec-
tion from the rain.


108
ORANGE AND GREEN.
CHAPTER VII.
THE COMING BATTLE.
Some hours passed, and he was on the point of drop-
ping off to sleep again when he heard a whistle repeated
once or twice, followed by the sharp bark of a dog. It
was but a short distance away, and leaping to his feet he
saw a peasant standing at a distance of two or three hun-
dred yards.
Walter hurried toward him at a speed of which a few
minutes before he would have thought himself incapable.
The man continued whistling at short intervals, and did
not notice Walter till he was within twenty yards distant;
then he turned sharply round.
"Who are you?" he asked, clubbing a heavy stick
which he held in his hand and standing on the defensive.
The dress and appearance of the man assured Walter
that he was a Catholic, and therefore a friend, and he re-
plied at once:
"I belong to one of the Irish troops of horse. The
Enniskilleners surprised a party of us yesterday, and
wounded me, as you see. Fortunately I escaped in the
night or they would have finished me this morning. I
have been out all night in the rain, and am weak from
loss of blood and hunger. Can you give me shelter?"
"That I can," the man said, "and gladly. Those
villains have been killing and destroying all over the
country, and there's many a one of us who, like myself,
have been driven to take refuge in the bogs."


ORANGE AND GREEN.
109
"Is it far?" Walter asked; "for I don't think I could
get more than a mile or two."
"It is not half a mile," the man said. "You do look
nearly done for. Here, lean on me, I will help you
along; and if you find your strength go I will make a
shift to carry you."
"It is lucky I heard you whistle," Walter said.
"It is, indeed," the man replied, "for it is not likely
any one else would have come along to-day. My dog
went off after a rabbit, and I was whistling to him to
come to me again. Ah! here he is; he has got the rabbit
too. Good dog! well done!"
He took the rabbit and dropped it into the pocket of
his coat. Seeing that Walter was too exhausted to talk,
he asked no questions and said nothing till he pointed to
a low mound of earth and said: "Here we are."
He went round by the side; and Walter perceived that
there was a sharp dip in the ground, and that the hut
was dug out in the face of the slope; so that if it were
approached either from behind or on either side it would
not be noticed, the roof being covered with sods, and
closely matching the surrounding ground.
The man went to the low door and opened it.
"Come in, sir," he said; "you are quite welcome."
The hut contained two other men, who looked up in
surprise at the greeting.
"This is a young officer in one of our horse regiments,"
the man said. "He has been in the hands of the Ennis-
killeners, and has got out from them alive—which is
more than most can say. He has had a bad wound, has
been wet through for hours, and is half-starving. Look
sharp, lads, and get something hot as soon as possible.
Now, sir, if you will take off those wet things of yours
and wrap yourself in that rug, you will find yourself the
better for it. When a man is in health a few hours' wet


110
ORANGE AND GREEN.
will not do him any harm; but when he is weak from loss
of blood, as you are, the cold seems to get into his
bones."
Fresh turfs were at once put on the smoldering fire,
which one of the men, leaning down before it, proceeded
to blow" lustily; and although much of the smoke made
its way out through a hole in the roof, enough lingered
to render it difficult for Walter to breathe, while his eyes
watered with the sharp fumes. A kettle had been placed
on the fire, and in a very short time a jar was produced
from the corner of the hut and a horn of strong spirits
and water mixed.
"Here are some cold praties, sir. It's all we have got
cooked by us now, but I can promise you a better meal
later on."
Walter ate the potatoes and drank the warm mixture.
The change from the cold damp air outside to the warm
atmosphere of the hut aided the effects of the spirits; he
was first conscious of a warm glow all over him, and then
the voices of the men seemed to grow indistinct.
"You had better stretch yourself on that pile of
rushes," the man said, as Walter gave a start, being on
the point of rolling over. "Two or three hours' sleep
will make a man of you, and by that time dinner will be
ready and your clothes dry."
Walter fell almost instantaneously off to sleep, and it
was late in the afternoon before he woke.
"I am afraid I must have slept a long time," he said,
sitting up.
"You have had a fine sleep surely," one of the men re-
plied; "and it's dinner and supper all in one that you
will have."
Walter found his uniform and underclothes neatly
folded up by his side, and speedily dressed himself.
"That sleep has done me a world of good," he said.
"I feel quite myself again."


112 ORANGE AND GREEK
"It's just that/' the man said. "We belonged to Kil-
bally. The Enniskillenors came that way and burned it
to the ground. They murdered my wife and many
another one. I was away cutting pe*t with my wife's
brother here; when we came back everything was gone.
A few had escaped to the boge, where they could not be
followed; the rest was, every mother's son of them, killed
by those murdering villains. Your honor may guess
what we felt when we got back. Thank God I had no
children! We buried the wife in the garden behind the
house, and then started away and joined a band of rap-
parees, and paid some of them back in their own coin.
Then one day the Enniskilleners fell on us, and most of
us were killed. Then we made our way back to the old
village, and came up here and built us this hut. It's a
wonder to us how you got here; for there are bogs stretch-
ing away in all directions, and how you made your way
through them bates us entirely."
"Yours is a sad story, but unfortunately a common
one. And how have you managed to live here?"
"There are plenty of potatoes for the digging of 'em,"
the man said, "for there are a score of ruined villages
within a day's walk. As for meat, there are cattle for
the taking, wandering all over the country; some have
lately strayed away; but among the hills there are herds
which have run wild since the days when Cromwell made
the country a desert. As for spirits, I brew them my-
self. Barley as well as potatoes may be had for the tak-
ing. Then sometimes the dog picks up a rabbit; some-
times, when we go down for potatoes, we light on a fowl
or two; there's many a one of them running wild among
the ruins. As far as eating and drinking goes, we never
did better; and if I could forget the old cottage, and the
sight that met my eyes when I went back to it, I should
do well enough, but night and day I am dreaming of it,
and my heart is sore with longing for vengeance."


ORANGE and qreen.
113
"Why don't you join the army?" Walter asked.
"There's plenty of room for good men, and yesterday's
s flair ?<as made some vacancies in my own troop. What
t^o you say, lads? You would have a chance of crossing
swords with the Enniskilleners, and you could always
come back here when the war is over."
"What do you say, boys?" the man asked his compan-
ions. "I am just wearying for a fight, and I could die
contented if I could but send a few of those murdering
villains to their place before I go."
The other two men at once agreed. They talked well
into the night, and Walter heard many tales of the savage
bi'tchery of unoffending peasants by the men who pro-
ff/'sed to be fighting for religious liberty, which shocked
aL.d sickened him. It was arranged that they should
start on the following morning. The men said that they
could guide him across country to Dundalk without
difficulty, and assured him that he would be little likely
to meet with the enemy, for that the whole country had
been so wasted by fire and sword as to offer but little temp-
tation even to the most insatiable of plunderers.
Accordingly, the next morning they set out and ar-
rived late that evening at the camp. Walter found that
his father and his followers were absent. They had re-
turned, much surprised at not having been rejoined by
Walter's party, but on their arrival they had found there
the survivors of his command, who had ridden straight
for Dundalk.
After a few hours' stay to rest the horses, Captain
Davenant, with his own men and two of the troops of
cavalry, had ridden out in search of the Enniskilleners.
Larry, who had been almost wild with grief when the
news of the surprise, and, as he believed, the death of
Walter, had been brought in, had accompanied the cav-
alry. It was late on the following after uoon before they


114
ORANGE AND GREEN.
rode into camp. Larry was the first to come in, having
received permission from Captain Davenant to gallop on
ahead. They had met the enemy and had inflicted a de-
cisive defeat upon them, but the greater part had escaped
by taking to the hills on their wiry little horses, which
were able to traverse bogs and quagmires impassable to
the heavy troopers. /
Captain Davenant had closely questioned two or three
wounded men who fell into his hands. These all de-
clared that a young officer had been captured in the pre-
vious fight, that he had been severely wounded, and car-
rried away senseless, but that he had in some extraor-
dinary manner managed to escape that night. This story
had greatly raised Captain Davenant's hopes that Walter
might yet be alive, a hope which he had not before al-
lowed himself for a moment to indulge in; and as lie
neared Dundalk he had readily granted leave for the im-
patient Larry to gallop on ahead, and discover if any
news had been received of Walter. Larry's delight at
seeing his young master standing at the door of the tent
was extreme. He gave a wild whoop, threw his cap high
up into the air, and then, without a word of greeting,
turned his horse's head and galloped away again, at th*
top of his speed, to carry the good news to Captain Dav-
enant. Half an hour later the column rode into camp,
and Walter was clasped in his father's arms.
That evening Walter's three companions were enrolled
in the troop, and, hearing that there were vacancies for
fifteen more, volunteered to return to the hills and to
bring back that number of men from the peasants hiding
there. This mission they carried out, and by the end of
the week Captain Davenant's troops was again made up
to its full strength.
The unsuccessful result of the siege of Schomberg's
camp greatly damped Walter's enthusiasm. He had


ORANGE AND GREEN.
115
been engaged in two long and tedious blockades, and,
with the exception of some skirmishes round Berry, had
seen nothing whatever of fighting. Neither operation
had been attended by any decisive result; both had in-
flicted extreme misery and suffering upon the enemy, but
in neither was the success aimed at attained. At the
same time, the novelty of the life, the companionship of
his father and the other officers of the regiment, and,
not least, the good-humor and fun of his attendant,
Larry, had made the time pass far more cheerfully to
him than to the majority of those in the army.
As before, when the army arrived at Dublin, Captain
Davenant's troop was posted in and around Bray, the
greater portion of it being permitted to reside in their
own homes until again wanted for active service. Walter
on his return was glad to find that his friend John
Whitfeoot had made his way home from Derry, and their
pleasant intercourse was at once renewed.
Schomberg's army, when moved to healthy quarters
and bountifully supplied with all kinds of food and nec-
essaries from England, speedily recovered their health
and discipline, and in a very short time were again in
condition to take the field.
Early in February, 1690, Brigadier Wolseley, with a
detachment of Enniskilleners and English, marched
against Cavan. James had no longer an army with
which he could oppose Schomberg's enterprises. While
the latter had been recovering from the effects of his
heavy losses, nothing had been done to put the Irish
army in a condition to take the field again. They lacked
almost every necessary for a campaign. No magazines
had been formed to supply them when they should again
advance, and so short of forage were they that it was
considered impossible to make any move in force until
the grass should grow sufficiently to enable the horses
to get into condition.


116 ORANGE AND GREEK.
Nevertheless, the Duke of Berwick marched with eight
hundred men from Dublin, and Brigadier Nugent with a
like force from West Meath and Longford, and arrived
at Cavan a few hours before the English reached the
town. The Irish force was composed entirely of infan-
try, with the exceptioi >*f two troops of cavalry. The
English force consisted of ?even hundred foot and three
hundred cavalry. As Cavan did not offer any advantages
in the way of defense, the Duke of Borwick moved his
army out into the open field. The English lined the
hedges and stood on the defensive.
The Irish horse commenced the battle with a furious
charge on the Enniskilleners and dragoons, and drove
them from the field, but the English infantry maintained
their position so stoutly that after a prolonged fight the
Irish retreated into a fort near the town. The English
and Enniskilleners entered Cavan, and at once began to
Sunder the place. Hearing what was going on, the
*?uKe of Berwick sallied out from his fort to attack
them, and gained considerable advantage. Brigadier
Wolseley being unable to restore discipline among the
Enniskilleners, who formed the great majority of his
force, ordered the town to be set on fire in several places.
The troops then collected and repulsed the Irish with
considerable loss.
The Duke of Berwick had two hundred killed, among
whom were Brigadier Nugent and many officers. As the
Irish remained in possession of the fort, and the town
was almost entirely destroyed by fire, Brigadier Wolseley
returned with his force to Dundalk. Shortly afterward
the Fort of Charlernont was invested by a strong detach-
ment of Schomberg's ttrmy.
Teigue O'Regan, the veteran governor, defended the
place with the greatest bravery, and did not capitulate
until the 14th of May, when the last ounce of provisions








ORANGE AND GREEN.
117
was consumed. The garrison were allowed honorable
terms, and the eight hundred men who defended the
place, with their arms and baggage, and some two hun-
dred women and children, were allowed to march away.
The Enniskilleners treated the Irish soldiers and their
families with great brutality as they passed along, but
Schomberg humanely ordered that a loaf of bread should
be given to each man at Armagh.
The Irish army were not in condition to render any
assistance to the hard-pressed garrison of Charlemont
until after they had capitulated. In the meantime a
great army, which was to be led by King William in per-
son, was being collected in England. It consisted of a
strange medley, collected from almost every European
nation—English, Scotch, Irish Protestants, French
Huguenots, Dutch, Swedes, Danes, Brandenburghers,
Swiss, Norwegians, and Hessians. More than half, in-
deed, were foreigners. All were well disciplined, armed,
and clothed. In all, including the force under Schom-
berg, the army amounted to forty-three thousand men
and fifty cannon.
King William landed at Carrickfergus on the 14th of
June, and the combined army at once began their south-
ward march. Against this force King James collected
but twenty thousand men. Of these six thousand were
French; they had arrived under the command of the
Count de Lauzun in March, but they had not increased
the numbers of King James' troops, for he had been
obliged to send in exchange an equal number of his best
trained soldiers under Lord Mountcashel for service in
France. Of the fourteen thousand native troops, the
Irish horse, which was raised and officered by Irish gen-
tlemen, was excellent, but the infantry was composed for
the most part of raw levies, but half-armed, and the only
artillery consisted of twelve guns, which had arrived with
the infantry from France.


118 ORANGE AND GREEN.
It was a sad parting when Captain Davenant and Walter
left home for the front. The former was filled with
gloomy forebodings. He could scarcely hope that the
ill-trained levies of James could succeed against the
vastly superior force of disciplined troops with whom
they had now to cope; especially as the latter were led by
an able and energetic general, while the former were
hampered by the incompetence and vacillation of James.
Tho day before they started Captain Davenant rode over
to *he Whitefoots and had a talk with Jabez.
''I know not how the campaign will go," he said. "If
we are beaten we shall probably retire to the west and
maintain the war there. In that case, Dublin will of
course fall into the hands of William. Should this be so
I will ask you to reverse our late position, and to ex-
tend what assistance you can to my wife and mother. It
may be that if I do not return here none will disturb
them. I have not made myself obnoxious to my Protes-
tant neighbors, and no one may take the trouble to bring
it before the notice of the English that I am absent fight-
ing with the army of King James. If, however, they
should do so, and the castle and what remains of the
estates be confiscated, will you lend what aid you can to
the ladies and my younger boy until I or Walter return
from the war?"
"That will I do right gladly," Jabez said heartily.
"Should I hear any talk of what you speak of I will go
up to Dublin with some of our friends and ministers, and
we will testify to the good relations which have existed
between you and your Protestant neighbors, and entreat
that no measures be taken against your estate. Should
we not prevail, be assured that I will look after the com-
fort of the ladies as if they were of my own family. I
can well understand that Mrs. Davenant the elder would
not accept the shelter of our roof whatever her extremity.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
119
She belongs to the generation of my father, and cannot
forget the past; but I will see that they are well lodged in
Bray, and have every protection from molestation and
annoyance there. Should I find, as, alas! may be the
case, that the spirit of religious persecution is fiercely
abroad, I will consult with them as to whether they may
wish to cross the sea until you can join them, and will
make arrangements as they may direct for their passage."
"I am truly obliged to you," Captain Davenant said.
"It will make me comfortable to know that, whatsoever
may befall me, they will have a friend in these stormy
times."
"Say nought about it," Jabez replied. "Did not you
and your son succor my boy in his extremity? If I do
all and more than all that I can in this matter I shall not
deem that we are quits."
The Irish army moved forward to the Boyne, which
William was approaching from the north. James' officers
endeavored to dissuade him from setting everything on
the hazard of the battle. They represented that his
army, though now quite unequal to the contest, was rap-
idly improving in skill and confidence in itself; that re-
inforcements were every day expected from France,
which would at least make them equal to the enemy in
numbers; that they were in want of arms, artillery, and
stores, all which might be expected also from France in
-i short period; and that their policy was clearly to pro-
tract the war, and wear out the enemy by a contest of
posts and sieges.
Unskilled as his troops might be in the field, they had
proved themselves steady and resolute in the defense of
fortified places; they held all the great fortresses of the
kingdom, and it would be easy to provide for the de-
fense of these, and to occupy William's army in small
affairs till the winter, when the climate would do execu-


120
ORANGE AND GREEN.
tion upon the invaders, while the Irish would suffer
little. Then would be the time to fight.
In the meantime, it was urged, the intrigues the
French were actively carrying out in Britain would have
produced some effect: the French fleet was every day ex-
pected on the coast of England, and William would soon
be compelled to return to that country, if not to recall
the greater part of his army. In Scotland, too, the
French were busy; and there were materials in that coun-
try for creating a powerful diversion. To fight now
would be to forego every advantage, and to meet the
views of William, whose obvious interest it was to bring
the contest to an immediate decision now while every
circumstance was in hi3 favor.
But James, who had hitherto shown nothing but tim-
idity and hesitation, was now seized with an impulse of
valor. Having acted with unfortunate cowardice before
Derry and Schomberg's camp at Dundalk, he was as un-
fortunately now seized with ardor to fight when pru-
dence and discretion would have been his best policy.
But while James was determining to fight in the teeth
of the opinion and advice of his bravest officers, his true
character was shown in his taking every precaution for
his personal safety. He sent off his heavy baggage, and
engaged a vessel at Waterford to convey him to France.
William, on the other hand, was naturally eager for an
early engagement. He was still very insecurely seated
upon the English throne. The people were either dis-
contented or indifferent. They looked with impatience
and indignation at the crowd of Dutch officers and civil-
ians whom William had brought over with him; while
the cold and ungracious manner of the king contrasted
most unfavorably with the bearing to which they had
been accustomed in English monarchs.
In Scotland the Jacobite spirit was gathering in



ORANGE AND GREEN.
121
strength, and William knew that unless he speedily
broke the strength of James' party in Ireland he would
very shortly be confronted with difficulties and dangers
on all sides.
The position which the Irish army occupied was a
strong one. Its right rested upon Drogheda, a strong
town in their possession. In front was the Boyne, with
steep banks lined with thick hedges, with cottages scat-
tered here and there, offering an excellent position for
light troops. On the left the Boyne turned almost at a
right angle, and formed a defense on this flank. To the
rear the Irish position was covered by high hills and the
village of Donore. Further back was the pass of Duleek.
The hedges and cottages by the river side were oc-
cupied by the Irish infantry, and upon some little hil-
locks which ran along the water's edge they erected some
light batteries.
King William reconnoitered the position with great at-
tention, and saw that it had been well chosen and its
advantages turned to account. Notwithstanding the re-
ports of deserters and others, he showed much anxiety to
determine the exact strength of the Irish.
After examining the- position for some time from a
height he rode down toward the river accompanied by
several of his officers. When within musket-shot of the
bank, near the ford and village of Old Bridge, he per-
ceived that a small island in the Boyne was occupied by
a party of the Irish horse. Near the ford some field-
works had been thrown up. It was at this point that
the king determined to cross the river, and he spent
some time conversing with his officers as to the arrange-
ments for the passage.
He then rode slowly along the river bank until he ar-
rived nearly opposite the left of the Irish line. Here he
alighted from his horse, and sat down on rising ground


122
OBANGB AND GREEN.
watching his own battalions, which were marching with
the greatest regularity and order into the positions as-
signed to them. While he was so engaged some officers
of James' army were observed riding quietly along the
opposite bank of the river, and also engaged in watching
the movements of the British troops.
These were General Sarsfield, the Duke of Berwick,
the Marquis of Tyrconnell, the Count de Lauzun, and
others. Some of the English dragoons approached the
river and were fired upon by the Irish. They returned
the fire, and while the attention of both sides was en-
gaged by the skirmish a party of Irish cavalry moved
slowly down toward the river and halted behind a low
hedge, and then wheeling about again retired.
The movements of the king and the group of officers
accompanying him had been observed in the Irish army,
and two field-pieces were sent down concealed in the
center of the cavalry. The guns had been placed behind
the hedge when the horsemen withdrew, and when Will-
iam rose from the ground and mounted his horse fire
was opened. The first cannon-shot killed two horses and
a man by his side. The next grazed the king's right
shoulder, tearing away his coat and inflicting a slight
flesh wound. Had the aim been slightly more accurate,
or had the gunners fired with grape instead of round shot,
it is probable that the whole course of history would have
been changed.
The rumor spread through both armies that the king
was killed; but the wound was a slight one, and having
had it hastily bound up the king rode quietly through
the camps in order to show the men that the hurt was
not serious. In the evening he called a council of war.
The Duke of Schomberg was strongly opposed to an at-
tack upon the enemy while posted in so strong a posi-
tion, and urged that by making a turning movement


124
ORANGE AND GREEN.
king's new-born courage began to die out; he ordered
some movements to the rear, and sent forward more of
his baggage. He would probably have declined the com-
bat altogether had it not been too late. Finally, just as
day was breaking over the council, he determined that
the army should retreat during the battle and not commit
themselves in a decisive engagement. The French
formed the left, and were to lead the retreat, while the
Irish held the right and center.
It is almost certain that if James had kept to his reso-
lution to fight, imprudent as it appeared to be, and had
brought the French battalion into action instead of lead-
ing them out of the field, the result of the battle of the
Boyne would have been a very different one.



ORANGE AND GREEN.
CHAPTER VIII.
BOYNE WATEB.
The morning of Tuesday, the 1st of July, 1690, broke
calm and bright. At about six o'clock in the morning
the English right wing, under General Douglas and
Count Schomberg, marched toward Slane. It consisted
of twenty-four squadrons of horse and six battalions of
infantry. As they marched along at the back of the
river they discovered several shallows, and crossed with-
out proceeding as far as Slane. No serious resistance
was offered to their passage of the Boyne, as the Irish
had here only some parties of skirmishers, who fell back
as they advanced.
After forming the troops in order Douglas and Schom-
berg advanced, but presently perceived the French bat-
talions and a great part of the Irish cavalry, forming the
left wing of James' army, drawn up in order at some dis-
tance. They consequently halted and sent for reinforce-
ments. When these arrived they extended their lines to
the right, so as to outflank the enemy, and, supporting
their cavalry by alternate battalions of infantry, again
moved forward. The Irish skirmishers fell back before
their advance, taking advantage of the banks of the
ditches, which divided the ground into small fields, and
keeping up a galling fire upon the British as they ad-
vanced. With some difficulty the latter passed over this
broken ground and formed in order of battle on the edge
of what appeared to be a plain, but which was in fact a


126
ORANGE AND GREEN.
deep bog, which completely covered the Irish left. Here
they came to a standstill.
William had waited until he believed that his right
would have had time to fall upon the Irish left, and then
ordered his center to advance and force the passage at
Old Bridge. The Dutch guards, whom William relied
upon as his best and most trustworthy troops, advanced in
splendid order to the river side, with their drums beating
the march.
When they reached the water's edge the drums ceased,
and the soldiers entered the river. The stream rose as
the dense column marched in and dammed it up, and the
water reached the shoulders of the grenadiers, but they
still moved on in regular order, keeping their arms and
ammunition dry by holding them above their heads. On
the opposite bank the hedges near the brink of the river
were lined with skirmishers, while in the rear, in a hol-
low covered by some little hills, seven regiments of Irish
infantry, supported by ten troops of horse and Tyrcon-
nelFs regiment of cavalry, were drawn up. The hills
protected them from the fire of the British batteries,
which passed over their heads.
The Dutch troops continued their way unmolested .
until they reached the middle of the river, when a hot
fire was opened upon them from the Irish skirmishers;
but the Dutch moved on unshaken and soon gained the
opposite bank, where they rapidly formed up, the
skirmishers retiring before them. Scarcely had the
Dutch formed their squares when the Irish horse burst
down upon them at full speed and charged them with
impetuosity.
They stood the charge unbroken, but again and again
the Irish horse charged down upon them with the great-
est gallantry. William pushed two regiments of French
Huguenots and one of British across the river to the as-


ORANGE AND GREEN.
127
sistance of the Dutch guards, and ordered Sir John
Hanmars and the Count of Nassau's regiment to cross
lower down the stream to support them.
As the supports were making a passage, General
Hamilton advanced at the head of a body of Irish infantry
to the water's edge, and dashing into the river encoun-
t«red the French Huguenot regiments in the middle of
the stream. A desperate fight ensued, but the French
made their way across, and Hamilton, falling back with
his infantry, opened to the right and left, permitting the
Irish horse to charge through them.
These rushed with fury upon the French regiment of
Colonel La Callimot, and cut their way right through
them. Then wheeling they charged them in flank again,
broke them and drove them into the river. La Callimot
himself was killed, and but few of his regiment regained
the opposite bank. In the meantime the Dutch guards,
now reinforced, were advancing slowly, the Irish infantry
holding fast to the hedges and brushwood, and contest-
ing every inch of the ground, while, wherever the ground
permitted it, the Irish horse burst down upon them,
evincing a gallantry and determination which would have
done honor to the finest cavalry in Europe.
The king continued to make repeated efforts to sup-
port his Dutch troops, and after the French were broken
he pushed forward the Danish horse; but no sooner had
they crossed the bank than the Irish cavalry burst down
upon them, broke them and drove them back into the
river. They fled across the stream in disorder, and dis-
persed in all directions.
So far success had rested principally with the Irish;
the Dutch guards alone remained unbroken in the cen-
ter; the French infantry and Danish horse were broken
and destroyed. Old Duke Schomberg exerted himself to
the utmost to restore the battle at this point, and having


ORANGE AND GREEN.
rallied the French infantry advanced with them, and a
few French cavalry, toward the river, where he was met
by some of the Irish horse returning from the pursuit of
the Danes. The old duke was cut down and his party
again routed, and at the same moment AY^alker, the cler-
ical commander of Derry, received a mortal wound.
After his successful defense of Derry, this man had gone
to London, where he had been feted and made much of,
and had then attached himself to King William's army,
where he posed as a high military authority, although
much discouraged by the king, whom his arrogance and
airs of authority displeased.
While in the center William's forces were getting
worsted, and on his right Douglas and Count Schomberg
were inactive and powerless, he himself was leading his
left wing across the river. The passage was a difficult
one, and the king himself was only extricated with much
exertion from a quicksand into which his horse had
plunged.
The Irish did not oppose the crossing, and as soon as
his forces were across the stream William ranged them in
order. They consisted of a large body of Danish, Dutch,
and Enniskillen horse, and a considerable force of in-
fantry. As soon as all were in order the king, though
still suffering from the wound he had received the day
before, drew his sword and put himself at the head of his
troops. The Irish right wing, which consisted chiefly of
infantry, moved forward to meet them, but perceiving
the numerous cavalry, led by the king himself, preparing
to take them in flank, they halted, faced about and
marched slowly to the little hill of Donore. Havifig
gained this point, they again faced round and charged
down upon the British who had followed them closely.
At this moment the Irish cavalry, who had moved rap-
idly from the center to the support of the right, charged


130
ORANGE AND GREEN.
superiority to those of the British, and even broke and
destroyed regiments of infantry; and when the whole
army fell back they closed up the rear, and effectually
prevented any attempt at pursuit. Thus the battle of
the Boyne was fought rather to cover a retreat than de-
fend a position. The loss on either side was estimated at
about five hundred, and General Hamilton was the only
prisoner taken by the British.
The honors of the fight certainly rested with the Irish,
who, against a vastly superior force, comprising some of
the best troops in Europe, maintained themselves
throughout the day, and gained, indeed, in most points,
a decided advantage.
King James' valor had entirely evaporated before the
first shot was fired. Instead of following William's ex-
ample, and leading his troops in the conflict which was
to decide the fate of his crown, and which he himself
had precipitated, he took up his position at a safe dis-
tance from danger, on the hill of Donore, and as soon as
the battle approached that point he rode off to Duleek,
where he placed himself at the head of the French
troops, and led their retreat.
He soon, however, rode on ahead, and arrived in Dub-
lin in a state of consternation and despair, the first fugi-
tive from the field of battle. In the meantime the army
was whole and unbroken, marching in perfect order from
the field of battle, while its king and commander was do-
ing his best to ruin the cause by spreading dismay and
alarm throughout the country. The next morning the
king sent for the mayor and corporation of Dublin, and
told them that he was under the necessity of taking care
of himself, and recommended them to do the same, and
to make the best terms they could with the enemy. Ho
then at once mounted and made his flight to Waterford,
ordering the bridges to be broken down behind him, al-


132 ORANGE AND GREEN.
ably the white feather. After this the king disliked and
despised these troops, and hung them without ceremony
when taken in those acts of plunder and slaughter to
which they were so much addicted.
So far from the flight of King James discouraging the
army, it caused universal joy. It was his constant vacil-
lation, interference, and cowardly action which had
paralyzed his troops; and they felt that, now they were
free to act without his interference, they would be able
to cope with the invaders.
William at once offered favorable terms if Ireland
would submit to his authority; but these were declined,
partly owing to the powerful influence of Prance, partly
to the fear that the tenns would not be observed, partly
to the apprehension of all the gentry that the lands
which they had but just recovered from the hands of
Cromwell's settlers would be again taken from them.
At the battle of the Boyne Walter Davenant with his
father's troop had taken part in all the desperate charges
upon the enemy. During the long hours the battle had
lasted the cavalry had been incessantly engaged. Time
after time they had charged down upon the Dutch
squares, and no sooner had the ranks been re-formed
after recoiling from the line of fixed bayonets than they
were called upon to charge in another direction.
Walter's heart beat high as they dashed into the midst
of the French infantry, or shattered and drove before
them the Danish horse; but there was little time to
think, and looking back upon the day when all was over
it seemed to him a chaos of excitement and confusion, of
which he could hardly recall even the chief incidents.
As the troops halted for the night they were in no way
dispirited at the result of the battle, as the retreat had
been begun before a blow was struck. They knew that
it was neither intended nor hoped that the ground would


ORANGE AND GREEN.
133
be successfully held; and every man felt a pride in the
thought that some eighteen thousand newly raised Irish
levies, of whom but a small portion of the infantry were
armed with muskets, had sustained throughout a long
summer's day the attacks of more than double their
number of veteran troops, supported by fifty pieces of
artillery.
The loss of the Irish horse had been comparatively
small. Charging a square in the days when the bayonet
was fixed in the muzzle of the gun was not the desperate
undertaking that it now is, when from the hedge of steel
issues a rolling and continuous fire. The French regi-
ment, once broken, had been cut down with scarce any
resistance, while the mercenary cavalry had been de-
feated with the greatest ease. Thus among the brigade
of the Irish horse there were but few fallen friends to
mourn, and nothing to mar the pride that every man felt
in the behavior of the Irish troops against such over-
whelming odds. That the king had fled every one knew,
but the feeling was one of relief.
"His absence is more than a victory to us," Captain
Davenant said as with a group of officers he sat by a fire
made of a fence hastily pulled down. "His majesty has
his virtues, and, with good counselors, would make a
worthy monarch; but among his virtues military genius
is not conspicuous. I should be glad myself if Lauzun
and the French would also take their departure, and let
us have Mountcashel's division back again from France.
If we are left to ourselves, with our own generals, Sars-
field and Mountcashel, we can tire out this continental
riffraff that William has gathered together. The dissen-
sions caused by French interference have been our ruin
so far; leave us to ourselves and we shall do. The Irish
to-day have proved their fighting qualities; and, if proper
use is made of the resources and difficulties of the coun-


134
ORANGE AND GREEN.
try, I defy them to conquer us. I feel more hopeful now
than I have done since the first day we took the field."
"Do you think we shall fight another battle before
Dublin, father?" Walter asked.
"I have no idea what the generals will decide, Walter,
but I should imagine that we shall march to the west.
We had a strong position to-day, but in the open field at
present we could not hope to cope with William's supe-
rior numbers and great artillery train. His guns were
little use to him yesterday; but on level ground they
would tear our ranks to pieces, without our being able to
make any return. Among the rivers and bogs and moun-
tains of the west we should find scores of places which
we could hold against them. Besides, in my opinion we
should not fight pitched battles, but should harass them
with continuous marches and attacks, leaving them
masters only of the ground they stand on, until at last
we completely wear them out and exhaust them."
"Then you think we shall abandon Dublin altogether?"
"I think so, Walter."
"But will they not persecute the Catholics when they
have them in their power?"
"There may be some disturbance in the city, Walter,
before the English troops march-in; but William will no
doubt put an end to this as soon as he arrives. He can-
not wish to drive the Catholics of Ireland to desperation.
At any rate I do not think we need feel at all uneasy
about those at home; lying on the coast to the east of the
town of Dublin, and altogether out of the track of the
movements of troops, there is little fear of trouble there.
In our district there is little preponderance in numbers
of one religion over the other; and unless the presence of
troops, or worse, of those savages from Enniskillen or
Derry, excite them, there is little fear of the Protestants
of that neighborhood interfering with our people, espe-


ORANGE AND GREEN.
135
cially as they have no grounds for complaint in the past.
No, I do not think that you need disquiet yourself in
the slightest about those at home."
As Captain Davenant had thought probable, the Irish
army, after marching into Dublin in good order, with
flags flying and music playing, left on the following day
for the west. They were accompanied by most of the
leading Catholic families; and on their departure the
corporation at once wrote to William inviting him to
enter the capital. Before his arrival, however, the Prot-
estant mob destroyed a great quantity of property be-
longing to the Catholics, and carried their excesses to
such a point that the town would probably have been de-
stroyed by fire had not the better classes of Protestants
armed themselves and taken energetic steps to repress
the tumult.
As the troops marched into Dublin "Walter said to
Captain Davenant:
"Can I ride over to see how they are at home? They
will have heard of the battle. Mother and grandmother
must be terribly anxious."
"I shall be glad for you to go, Walter, for it would
greatly ease their minds at home; but we are to start
again almost immediately, and probably the whole army
will have marched off before you get back in the morn-
ing. There is no saying what may occur after we have
gone. There may be a general attack upon the Catho-
lics. At any rate it will be dangerous in the extreme for
a single officer in our uniform to be riding through the
town after we have left. Even in the country villages
there must be intense excitement, and any one in the
king's uniform might be fired at in passing through any
of the Protestant settlements."
"Well, father, suppose I do not start until it gets dark,
then I can get home without attracting notice; there I


136
ORANGE AND GREEN.
can put on a suit of my old clothes, and bring my uni-
form out in my valise."
"Well, perhaps you might manage in that way, Walter;
and I should be very glad to relieve their minds at home,
and to know how they are going on. If you like you
can stop there for a day or two. I don't suppose that
William will be here with his troops for a few days. He
has learned that our army is not to be despised, and he
may hesitate to advance upon Dublin until he receives
certain news that we have moved away, and that he will
not have to fight another battle for the possession of the
city. Should you hear that William's troops have ar-
rived in the town, you will of course make a detour so as
to avoid it on your way to rejoin us; ai 1 now I will write
'a letter at once for you to take to your mother."
As soon as it was dark Walter mounted and started for
Bray, where he arrived without molestation on the way.
His arrival was an immense relief to the ladies, who had
been suffering an agony of suspense since the news of the
battle had reached them. King James' hurried arrival
and panic flight to Waterford had caused the most alarm-
ing reports as to the battle to circulate throughout the
country, and by many it was supposed that his army had
been utterly destroyed. Walter's arrival, then, with the
news that his father as well as himself had passed
through the day unhurt, was an immense relief; and
they were grateful to learn that, so from having been
routed, the Irish army had accomplished its object of
fighting the battle and then falling back in perfect
order and without molestation.
"Father says, mother, that he believes next time, when
we shall be no longer hampered by the interference of
the king, we shall be able to make even a better fight of
it, especially if, as we all hope, the French officers will
follow the king's example and take themselves off."



OBA NGE AND GRE EN.
137
"How long are you going to stay, Walter?"
"I shall stay over to-morrow, mother, and start next
morning early. I ought to he able to come up to the
army before night, but if not I shall overtake them on
the march next day."
"I wish I was older," Godfrey, who had been listening
to the account of the battle, said. "It is so hard to have
to stay at home here while you and father are having
such fun!"
"You would not think it was fun if you were with us,
Godfrey," Walter said. "I used to think it would be
fun, but I don't think so now. Just while the fighting
is going on one is so excited that one doesn't think of
the danger, but when it is over it is awful to see the gaps
in the ranks, and to know that so many of those who
were riding with you have fallen, and that it may be your
turn next time."
"Ah, it's all very well for you to talk, Walter, because
you are going through it all, but you would think just
the same as I do if you were in my place."
"That is true enough, Godfrey. Anyhow, I am glad
you are not old enough. I don't mean that I should not
like to have you with us, but then there would be nobody
at home with mother. Now if anything happens to
father and me, she has got you, and as you grow up you
will be able to look after her and take care of her. It is
bad enough for her having two of us in the war; it would
be worse still if there were three."
As the next evening Walter heard that there was news
that William's troops had not yet moved from the Boyne,
he thought that it was sale to take the direct road
through Dublin. He had laid aside his uniform on
reaching home, and in the morning started in his civilian
clothes, with the uniform in the valise strapped behind
the saddle. Ue carried his sword as usual, for almost all



ORANGE AND GREEN.
139
caught up hoes, spades, and other weapons, and a fierce
fight was going on. The women with shrill cries encour-
aged the peasants, and aided them by hurling stones at
the rioters. Walter saw that his interference would be
of no avail, and, with a heavy heart at the bitter hatred
which the two parties in Ireland exhibited for each
other, he turned from the road, made a circuit round
the village, and continued his way. After that he
avoided all towns and villages, and slept at night in the
cabin of a peasant lying some little distance from the
road. The following day he again pressed on, and before
evening overtook the retiring army.
On the arrival of King William with his army in Dub-
lin, a proclamation was issued assuring all save those who
resisted his authority of his protection, and threatening
severity against those who disturbed the peace or com-
mitted outrage on personal property. Letters of protec-
tion were granted to all who applied for them; and hear-
ing this, Jabez Whitefoot at once went into Dublin to
apply for protection for the family of Captain Davenant.
On hearing, however, that no persecution of Catholics
would be allowed, and that the army was likely to march
west at once in pursuit of the Irish, he thought it better
to leave the matter alone, as his application would only
draw the attention of the authorities to the fact of Cap-
tain Davenant and his son being engaged in the hostile,
army. He felt sure that the ladies need fear no molesta-
tion save from the soldiers or Northerners, as his own in-
fluence with the Protestants of his neighborhood would
suffice to prevent these from interfering with the house-
hold at the castle.
The Irish army marched toward the Shannon, and
were concentrated part in the neighborhood of Athlone
and part at Limerick. William shortly prepared to fol-
low them. He, too, divided his army into two columns.


140
ORANGE AND GREEN.
The main body, under his own command, took the road
to Limerick, while the other division, consisting of five
regiments of cavalry and twelve of infantry, was dis-
patched under the command of General Douglas for the
purpose of investing the fortress of Athlone.
As the armies marched west their path was marked by
wholesale outrage and destruction. Although protec-
tions were granted to the peasants and inhabitants of the
towns and villages through which the armies marched,
they were entirely disregarded by the soldiers, who
plundered, ill-used, and sometimes murdered the de-
fenseless people, carrying away without payment all pro-
visions on which they could lay their hands.
The king sometimes hanged those who were caught in
these acts of plunder and slaughter, but this had but
little effect. The Dutch soldiers alone maintained their
order and discipline. The foreign mercenaries, com-
posed for the most part of the sweepings of the great
cities, behaved with a brutality and cruelty almost with-
out example, and which was acknowledged by all the his-
torians of the time, Protestant as well as Catholic. In-
deed, the Protestant inhabitants suffered even more than
the Catholics, for many of the latter fled at the approach
of the army, while the Protestants, regarding them as
friends and deliverers, remained quietly at home, and
suffered every insult and outrage at the hands of this
horde of savages, who were perfectly indifferent as to the
religion of those they plundered.
Captain Davenant's troop was with the force which
had retired to Athlone, and there awaited the approach
of the column of General Douglas. The reports of the
conduct of the enemy that were brought in by the flying
peasants filled the Irish troops with indignation and rage,
and when, on arriving before the town, General Douglas
sent a messenger to demand its surrender, Colonel Grace,



OB A Nam AND GR KEN.
141
who commanded, only replied by firing a pistol toward
him.
Athlone stood on either side tit the Shannon. The
town on the eastern bank of the river was called "the
English town," that on the western "the Irish"—a dis-
tinction existing in many of the Irish towns, where the
early English settlers found it expedient to live apart
from the Irish for mutual protection against attack.
Colonel Grace had retired to the west bank of the river,
which was strongly fortified, destroying the English town
and breaking down part of the bridge across the river.
The garrison consisted of three regiments of foot and
nine troops of horse; and when Douglas erected his bat-
teries and opened fire on the castle they replied briskly,
and their guns got the better of those in the batteries.
A strong detachment of horse and mounted grenadiers
was sent by Douglas to Lanesborough, some miles north
of the town, with orders to pass the river at that point,
but the post was held by Irish troops, who easily repulsed
the attempt.
It was next proposed to pass the river at a ford a short
distance from the bridge; but the troops had little heart
for the enterprise, as the ford was covered by field works
erected by the Irish. The assailants were already re-
duced to considerable -straits. They had consumed all
provisions found in the town, plundering without mercy
the Protestant inhabitants, who had been well treated by
the Irish troops, while the conduct of the army effec-
tually deterred the country people from bringing in
provisions.
The circulation of the report that General Sarsfield,
with fifteen thousand men, was on the march to cut off
the besiegers of Athlone, determined General Douglas to
make a speedy retreat. In his fear of being cut off he
abandoned all his heavy baggage, and quitting the high-


142
ORANGE AND GREEN.
road, made his way by unfrequented routes, which added
to the hardships of the march. In its retreat the column
was accompanied by the unhappy Protestant inhabitants,
who feared to remain behind lest the Irish should retal-
iate upon them the sufferings which had been inflicted
upon their countrymen.
In the meantime the main English army had done but
little. In Dublin a commission had been appointed to
examine into and forfeit the lands of all Catholics and
adherents of King James, and having set this machine
at work, the king proceeded with his army southward
through Carlow, Kilkenny, and Waterford, all of which
places surrendered, the garrisons being allowed to march
out with their arms and baggage to join their main army
on the Shannon.
At Waterford the king received such serious news as
to the state of things in England that he determined to
return home. On arriving at Dublin he was overwhelmed
with petitions from the inhabitants as to the shameful
conduct of the troops left in garrison there, especially
those of Trelawney's, Schomberg's, and some other regi-
ments of horse, who, the people complained, treated
them, although Protestants, far worse than James'
Catholic soldiers had done. Inquiry showed these com-
plaints to be well founded, and finding it impossible to
restore order and discipline among them, the king at
once sent these regiments back to England. Then, re-
ceiving better news from home, he again started to rejoin
his army, and marched toward Limerick, being joined on
his way by the division under Douglas, which had driven
along with them all the cattle and horses of the country
through which they had passed.
Limerick was at that time the second city in Ireland.
The country, for a long distance along the mouth of the
Shannon, was much wooded, but in the immediate vicin-


ORANGE AND GREEN.
143
ity of the town it was surrounded by thick inclosures,
houses, orchards, gardens, and plantations. The culti-
vated land was everywhere divided into small fields in-
closed by hedges, and intersected by lanes. To the east
of the town the Shannon divides itself, forming an island
on which part of the city is situated.
This was called the English town, and was connected
by a bridge, called Thomond Bridge, with the Clare side
of the river on the north, and on the south by another
bridge with the Irish town on the county of Limerick
side. The Thomond Bridge was defended by a strong
fort and some lieldworks on the Clare side, and on the
city side by a drawbridge flanked by towers and the city
walls. The bridge was very long and narrow. The posi-
tion of the English town was indeed almost impregnable.
It was built upon a rock of considerable extent, and the
land outside the walls was low and marshy, and could at
any time be flooded. The Shannon was broad and rapid.
The Irish town on the Limerick shore was not strong,
being defended only by ordinary walls. If this were cap-
tured, however, the English town could still hold out.
The king made his approaches to the city slowly, being
obliged to level the numerous inclosures as he moved
on. These were occupied by the Irish infantry, who,
lining every hedge, kept up a galling fire, falling back
gradually as heavy bodies of troops were brought up
against them, until they reached the cover of the guns of
the city and fort; upon these opening fire, William's
army halted and encamped before the Irish town.
Here, as at the Boyne, the king had a narrow escape,
a cannon-ball from the walls striking the ground at his
foot as he was passing through a gap in a hedge.
The king had learned that great dissensions existed be-
tween the Irish and French, and relied upon this as much
as upon the strength of his arms to obtain possession of
the city.


144
ORANGE AND GREEN.
His information was indeed correct. King James in
his flight had left no orders as to who should assume the
supreme command. The Duke of Berwick had consider-
able claims. Lauzun and the French officers declined alto-
gether to receive orders from Tyrconnell, and the Irish
officers equally objected to act under the command of a
Frenchman. Consequently, during the wh»le siege, the
main Irish army, which, by acting upon William's rear,
could speedily have made his position untenable, re-
mained inactive. M. Boileau, a French officer, was gov-
ernor of the town, but Lauzun, having examined the
fortifications, pronounced the place wholly incapable of
defense, declaring that the walls could be knocked down
with roasted apples, and so ordered the entire French
division to march to Galway, and there await an oppor-
tunity for embarking for France, leaving the Irish to de-
fend the city if they chose.
Lauzun, in fact, was a courtier, not a soldier. He de-
sired to get back to Versailles at any hazard, and had so
inspired his officers and men with his own sentiments
that there was a general cry among them to be recalled
to France. They had indeed no interest in the cause in
which they fought. They looked with contempt at their
half-armed and half-trained allies, and they grumbled con-
tinually at the hardships which they had to undergo. It
was indeed an evil day for King James' cause when he
exchanged Mountcashel's fine division for these useless
allies, who throughout the war not only did no service,
but were the cause of endless dissension and disaster.
As soon as King William had taken up his position in
front of Limerick he sent a summons to Boileau to sur-
render. The latter consulted with Tyrconnell, Sarsfield,
and some other officers, for even to the last moment it
was a question whether the place should be defended.
At last, however, a decision was made. The reply was


146
ORANGE AND GREEN.
CHAPTER IX.
PLEASANT QUARTERS.
After the termination of the short siege of Athlone
the troop of Captain Davenant were dispatched to join
the army near Limerick, and on their arrival there were
ordered to take up their quarters at the house of a Prot-
estant gentleman named Conyers, four miles from the
town on the Limerick side of the river.
It was a mansion of considerable size, standing in large
grounds, for its proprietor was one of the largest land-
owners in the county of Limerick, his grandfather having
been a colonel in one of Cromwell's regiments. Mr.
Conyers himself had gone to Dublin, upon the passing
of the act sequestrating the property of all the Protes-
tants by James' parliament, to endeavor to obtain a re-
mission of the decree so far as it concerned his house and
adjoining grounds. As he had influential friends there,
he had remained urging his petition until the battle of
the Boyne and the entry of King William into Dublin
entirely changed the position. But he then, owing to
the disturbance of the country, and the fact that the
Irish army had retired to Limerick, found it impossible
to return home. He had, however, traveled with Will-
iam's army, to which he was able to give much useful
information regarding the defenses and details of the
country round the town.
As Captain Davenant's troop rode up to the house a
lady with a girl of some sixteen years old appeared at the








ORANGE AND GREEN.
147
door. Both looked very pale, for they feared that the
brutal conduct of which they had heard of William's
army would be followed by reprisals on the part of the
Irish. They were somewhat reassured, however, by
Captain Davenant's manner as that officer dismounted,
raised his hat, and said:
"Madam, I have received orders to quarter my troop
in the house, but I am anxious, I can assure you, to cause
as little inconvenience and annoyance as possible under
the circumstances."
"We are only women here, sir," Mrs. Conyers said.
"The house is at your disposal. I myself and my daugh-
ter will move to the gardener's cottage, and I trust that
you will give orders to your men that we shall be free
from molestation there."
"I could not think of disturbing you in that manner,"
Captain Davenant said. "I myself have a wife and
mother alone at home, and will gladly treat you with the
same courtesy which I trust they will receive. Allow
me in the first place to introduce to you my lieutenant,
Mr. O'Moore, and my cornet, who is also my son, Walter.
I see that you have extensive stables and out-buildings.
I am sure that my men, who are all good fellows, and
many of them the sons of farmers, will make themselves
very comfortable in these. I myself and my two officers
will quarter ourselves in the gardener's cottage you speak
of."
"You are good indeed, sir," Mrs. Conyers said grate-
fully; "but I could not think of allowing you to do that,
and shall indeed be pleased if you and your officers will
take up your residence here as my guests."
"I thank you kindly; but that I could not do. My
men will be well content with the outhouses if they see
that we are content with the cottage; but they might not
be so if they saw that we took up our quarters in the


148
ORANGE AND GREEN.
house. Therefore, if you will allow me, I will carry out
my own plan; but I need not say that we shall be very
pleased to visit you in the house at such times as may be
agreeable to you."
After expressing their grateful thanks Mrs. Conyers
and her daughter withdrew into the house. Captain
Davenant then addressed a few words to his men.
"The house will not hold you all, lads, and there are
only ladies here, and I am sure you would not wish to
disturb and annoy them by crowding their house; there-
fore, I have arranged that you shall take, up your quar-
ters in the outhouses, and that we shall occupy a little
cottage on the grounds. I hope, lads, that, for the
honor of the country and the cause, all will behave as
peacefully and quietly as if in our own homes. It would
be a poor excuse that because William's soldiers are be-
having like wild beasts we should forget the respect due
to lonely women."
A fortnight was spent here pleasantly for all. The
first alarm past, Mrs. Conyers felt safer than she had done
for months. Ever since the troubles had begun she had
felt the loneliness of her position as a Protestant, and she
would have long before made her way with her daughter
to Dublin, had it not been that she thought that so long
as she continued in the house it might be respected by
the Catholic peasantry, while, were she to desert it, it
would probably be plundered, perhaps burned to the
ground.
Still, the position was a very trying one, especially
since the Jacobite army began to gather in force round
Limerick.
She now felt that her troubles were comparatively over.
The troops caused no annoyance, and she heard but little
of them, while she found in Captain Davenant and his
officers pleasant guests. The troops on their part were


ORANGE AND GREEN.
149
well satisfied. Mrs. Conyers gave instructions that they
were to be supplied with all they needed, and their ra-
tions of bread and meat were supplemented with many
little comforts and luxuries from the house.
While Mrs. Conyers entertained the two elder officers
Walter naturally fell to the share of her daughter, and
the two soon became great friends, wandering in the
grounds, and sometimes riding together when Walter
was not engaged with the troop. The news came daily
of the movements of William's army, and when it ap-
proached Captain Davenant's troop went far out to ob-
serve its movements and obtain an accurate idea of its
strength.
It was late in the evening when they returned, and
Captain Davenant said at supper:
"This is our last meal with you, Mrs. Conyers. We
leave at daybreak, and a few hours afterward William's
army will arrive before Limerick. We shall be the losers,
but you will be the gainer if, as you suppose, Mr.
Conyers is with them."
"I shall be really sorry for your going, Captain Daven-
ant. It seemed a terrible thing having a troop of hostile
horse quartered upon one; but in reality it has been a
pleasant operation rather than not, and I have felt safer
than I have done for months. I do hope that when
these troubles are over we shall renew our acquaintance,
and that you will give my husband an opportunity of
thanking you for the kindness with which you have
treated us."
"The thanks should be on my side," Captain Davenant
said. "You have made what promised to be an un-
pleasant duty a most pleasant one. Our stay here has
been like a visit at a friend's, and I regret deeply that it
has to come to an end, a regret which I am sure Lieutenant
O'Moore and my son share."


ORANGE AND GREBN.
151
Walter turned round sharply, for he had not heard him
approach.
"We had, Larry," he said with a smile. "We shall
find it rougher work now."
"We shall, yer honor. I was thinking to myself," he
said confidentially, "that if you might be wanting to
send a bit of a letter it's meself could easily make a boat
with some osiers and the skin of that bullock we had
given us for the rations of the troops to-day."
"Send a letter, Larry!—who should I be sending a
letter to?"
"Sure yer honor knows better than me. I thought
maybe you would be liking to let the young lady know
how we're getting on now, and to find out whether her
father has come home, and how things are going. Yer
honor will excuse me, but it just seemed natural that
you should be wishing to send a line; and a sweeter
young lady never trod the sod."
Walter could not help laughing at the gleam of quiet
humor in Larry's face.
"I don't know, lad. You have pretty well guessed my
thoughts; but it can't be. The opposite bank will be
swarming with William's men—it would be a most dan-
gerous business. No, it's not to be thought of."
"Very well, yer honor, it's just as you like; but you
have only got to hand me a bit of paper, and give me a
wink of your eye, and I will do it. As to William's
sodgers, it's little I fear them; and if all one hears of
their doings be true, and I had a pretty young creature
a mile away from me, with those blackguards round about
her, it's anxious I should be for a line from her hand;"
and Larry got down from his seat, and began to walk
away toward the village.
Walter stood silent for a moment.
"Wait, Larry," he said.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
153
for some time. He had certainly thought vaguely that
he should like Claire Conyers to know that he was still
within sight of her house; but the possibility of sending
her word had not occurred to him until his follower sug-
gested it. Larry's suggestion of possible danger to her
made him uneasy. Even if her father was with the king,
and had already returned home, he would frequently be
absent in the camp, and who could tell but some band of
plunderers might visit the house in his absence! The
Protestants had been plundered and ill-used by William's
men round Athlone, and might be here. It would cer-
tainly be well to know what was going on across the
water.
After the kindness they had received, surely it would
be only civil to let the Conyers know where they were
posted. At any rate Claire could not be offended at his
writing; beside, he might arrange some plan by which he
might get news from Larry's friend, Pat Ryan. As he
went down to the village he heard roars of laughter, and
passing a cottage saw Larry with five or six of the
troopers round him. Larry was seated on the ground,
making a framework in the shape of a saucer four feet
in diameter.
"And what are you wanting a boat for, Larry?"
"Sure, I am mighty fond of fishing," Larry said.
"Didn't you know that?"
"I know you are a fisherman at home, Larry; but if
it's fishing you want, there are two large boats hauled up
on the bank."
"They are too big," Larry said. "I should want half
a dozen men to launch them, and then you would want
to go with me, and the bare sight of you would be enough
to frighten away all the fish in the Shannon. But I will
have a look at the boats; the captain might want a party
to cross the river, and it's as well to see that they are in


154 ORANGE AND GREEN.
good order, and have got the oars and thole-pins handy.
I will see to them myself, for there are not half a dozen
of ye know one end of the boat from the other."
When Walter reached his quarters he at once sat down
to write. After many attempts he finished one as follows:
"Dear Miss Conyers: After the kindness shown to
us by Mrs. Conyers and yourself, I feel sure that you will
like to know where we are posted. We are at Ballygan,
just across the Shannon opposite to your house, and I can
see your roof from a spot fifty yards from the village. It
seems a pleasure to me to be so close, even though we are
as much divided as if there were the sea between us. I
hope that Mr. Conyers has returned, and that you will
have no trouble with William's troops, whose reputation
for good behavior is not of the' best. I hope that now
that you are among your friends you have not quite for-
gotten us, and that you will let me have a line to say how
you are and how things are going on with you. My boy
Larry is going to take this across, and will call to-morrow
night for an answer, if you are good enough to send one."
"When will your boat be finished, Larry?" he asked
his follower as the latter came in, just as it was getting
dusk.
"She will be finished to-morrow. The framework is
done, and I could make a shift, if your honor wished,
just to fasten the skin on so that it would take me to-
night."
"If you could, I would rather, Larry."
"All right, your honor!" Larry said with a slight
smile; "two hours' work will do it."
"I know where you are making it, Larry, and will
come round when I go to inspect sentries, at eleven
o'clock. We shall post ten men a quarter of a mile
apart on the bank, and I will give orders for them to
look out for you. The word will be 'Wicklow;' so when
you come across they will shout to you, 'Who comes
there?' You say, 'Wicklow;' and it will be all right."


ORANGE AND GREEN.
155
At the hour he had named Walter went round for
Larry, who was working by the light of a torch stuck in
the ground.
"I have just finished it, yer honor; but I was obliged
to stop till the boys got quiet; they were so mighty in-
quisitive as to what I was in such a hurry about that I
had to leave it alone for awhile."
"Look here, Larry, here is the letter, but that's not
the principal reason why I am sending you across. You
will give it to Pat Ryan, as you suggested, to pass on
through Bridget to Miss Conyers; but I want you to ar-
range with him that he shall, to-morrow, get some dry
sticks put together on the bank opposite, with some
straw, so that he can make a blaze in a minute. Then
do you arrange with him that if any parties of William's
troops come to the house in the absence of Mr. Conyers,
and there should seem likely to be trouble, he is to run
as hard as he can down to the river; if it is day, he is to
wave a white cloth on a stick; if it is night, he is to light
the fire. Tell him to arrange with Bridget to run at
once to him and tell him if there is trouble in the house,
for as he is in the stables he may not know what is going
on inside. I have been looking at those boats, they will
carry fifteen men each at a pinch; and if the signal is
made we shall not be long in getting across. Pat would
only have about half a mile to run. We will get the
boats down close to the water's edge, and it won't take
us many minutes to get across. Anyhow, in twenty
minutes from the time he starts we might be there."
"That will be a moighty good plan, yer honor. Now,
if you will go down to the water with me I will be off at
once. I shan't be away half an hour; and I can slip up
into the loft where Pat sleeps, and not a sowl be the
wiser if there was » regiment of William's troops about
the house."


ORANGE AND GREEN.
157
"There is little enough to tell, yer honor. I just
rowed across and landed, and made straight for the
house. Everything was quiet and still. I went round
to the stables and up into the loft where Pat sleeps. 'Are
you there, Pat Ryan,' says I?
"'Who is it calls Pat Ryan?' says he.
"'It's myself, Larry, Mr. Davenant's boy.'
"'Why, I thought you had gone,' says he. 'Are you
sure it's yourself?' says he.
"'And who else should it be, Pat Ryan? Don't yer
know my voice?'
"By this time I had got into the corner where he slept,
and touched him.
"'I am glad to feel you, Larry,' says he, 'for I wasn't
sure that you hadn't fallen in with the troopers, and it
wasn't your ghost that come to visit me.'
"'Whist,' says I, 'I have no time to waste upon ye.
The master and the troops are stationed just across the
river at Ballygan. Mr. Davenant has given me a letter
for Miss Oonyers, telling her all about it. I don't ex-
actly know what he said, and maybe she would like it
given privately, so do you hand it to Bridget in the
morning, and ask her to give it her mistress, and to
hand over to you any answer there may be. I will come
across for it to-morrow night. But that's not all, Pat.
You know the devil's work that William's men have been
carrying on on the march.'
"'Av course, every one has heard the tales of the vil-
lains' doings, Larry.'
"'Well, the young master is mighty anxious about it,
as you may guess. Has Mr. Conyers come?'
"'Yes. He rode in at four this afternoon.'
"'Well, Mr. Davenant says you will all be safe as long
as he's here, but maybe that at some time when he's
away you may have a troop of these villains of the world


158
ORANGE AND GREEN.
ride in here, and little they care whether it's Protestants
or Catholics that they plunder; so if they come here and
begin their devilries, you run for your life down to the
river, opposite Ballygan, with a white cloth or a shirt, if
it's daytime, and wave it. You are to have a pile of
sticks and straw ready, and, if it's night, ye will just set
it in a blaze, and there will be help over before many
minutes. You stop there till they come, to tell thee,
how strong the enemy are.
"'The master says you are to tell Bridget about it, so
that if they misbehave themselves inside the house she
can slip out and let you know. You understand that?'
*" 'I do,' says he; 'and it's a comfort to me, for it's
fretting I have been over what might happen if a troop
of those murderin' villains were to come here, and not a
sowl save me and the other boys to take the part of the
mistress and Miss Claire.'
"'Well, you know now, Pat, what's to be done, and
see you do it; and now I must go, for the master is wait-
ing for me. I will be with you to-morrow night for the
answer.'
"And so I came back, and I lost ten minutes looking
about for the boat, for it was so mighty dark that I could
not see a f ut. I kicked against it and very near fell over
it. It's well I didn't, for I should have knocked it into
smithereens entirely!"
"Capital, Larry! you couldn't have done better. Now
I shall feel comfortable."
After breakfast Walter told his father of the mission
on which he had sent Larry, and the arrangement he had
made with Pat Eyan.
"You ought to have told me at first, Walter. I do not
blame you, but you should not do things on your own
responsibility."
"But so far, father, it has not been a regimental affair.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
159
I simply sent my own boy with a note to Miss Conyers
just to say where we were; but as it may be an affair in
which some of the troop may have to act, 1 have told
you about it, so that you can make what arrangements
you like."
"It's rather a fine distinction, Walter," his father said,
smiling. "It seems to me that you have engaged us to
send a detachment across the river in case of trouble at
Mrs. Conyers'. However, I heartily agree with you that
our kind friends should be protected from injury and
insult.
"How many will the boats hold?"
"Thirteen or fourteen men each."
"Very well, then. I authorize you at any time, if I am
away with a portion of the troop, to take twenty-five men
across if the signal is made. If I am here I shall, of
course, go over myself. You can take any measures of
preparation you may think necessary."
Walter availed himself of the permission, and at once
gave orders to the sentry posted on the river in front of
the village that if a white flag was waved by day or a fire
lit by night on the opposite bank, he was to shout loudly
and fire his pistol, and that these orders were to be passed
on to the sentry who succeeded him at the post. Then
he picked out twenty-five men and told them that at any
time in the night or day, if they heard a shot fired Jjy
the sentry they were to seize their arms, rush down to
the boats, launch them and take their places, and wait
for orders. He told them to sleep without removing any
of their clothes, so as to be ready for instant action.
The next night Larry again crossed and brought back
a little note from Claire Conyers, thanking Walter for
letting her know they were so close, telling him of her
father's return, and saying that there was no fear of her
mother or herself forgetting their late visitors. It was a


100
ORANGE AND GREEN.
prettily-written little note, and Walter was delighted at
receiving it.
"Well, my boy," Captain Davenant said with a little
smile when Walter told him next morning that he had
heard from Miss Conyers, "as you seem specially intei-
ested in this affair, I will let you have the honor and
glory of being the first to come to the rescue of Miss
Conyers and her mother if they should need it; and
therefore, whether I am here or not, I give you permis-
sion to cross at once in the two boats if you get the
signal. But on reaching the other side you are to send
the two boats back at once, with two men in each, and I
will bring the rest of the troop across as fast as possible.
There is no saying what force you may find there. I
shall leave it to your discretion to attack at once or to
wait until I come up with reinforcements. You will, of
course, be guided partly by the strength of the enemy,
partly by the urgency for instant interference for the
protection of the ladies."
Four days passed quietly; there was but little for the
cavalry to do. Small parties were posted at various
spots for some miles down the river to give notice should
the enemy appear on the opposite bank and show any in-
tention of making a crossing; and beyond furnishing
these guards the troop had little to do. Walter spent
much of his time watching the opposite bank. He
hardly knew whether he wished the signal to be displayed
or not—he certainly desired no trouble to befall the
ladies; but, on the other hand, the thought of rushing to
their rescue was undoubtedly a pleasant one. Larry
spent much of his time at the water's edge fishing—a
pursuit in which many of the troopers joined; and they
were able to augment the daily rations by a good supply
of salmon.
On the fifth day the officers had just finished supper


ORANGE AND GREEN.
161
when the sound of a pistol-shot was heard. Walter
leaped from his seat, snatched up his sword and pistols,
and ran down to the river. The men were already clus-
tering round the boats. A minute later these were in
the water, and the men jumped on board. They too
were eager for the work, for Larry had whispered among
them that if the signal was made it would signify that a
band of the enemy's marauders were at Mrs. Conyers';
and all had been so kindly treated there that they were
eager to repay the treatment they had received. Be-
sides, there was not a man in the Irish army whose heart
had not been fired at the recitals of the brutality of the
enemy, and filled with deep longings for vengeance upon
the perpetrators of the deeds.
Walter counted the men as they rowed across, and
was pleased to find that not one of them was missing.
He ordered the two men who were at the oars in each
boat to return, the instant the rest had landed, to fetch
another detachment across. As they reached the land
the men sprang out. Pat Kyan was standing at the
landing-place.
"Well, Pat, what is it?"
"A troop of Hessian horse, your honor. Half an hour
ago they rode up to the doors. Mrs. Conyers came out
to meet them, and told them that she was a loyal Protes-
tant and wife of a gentleman high in the king's councils,
who was in the camp. The blackguards only laughed.
The officers, with some of the men, dismounted and
pushed their way past her into the house, and the rest of
the troop tied their horses up to the trees on the lawn,
and shouted to me and some of the other boys who were
looking on to bring forage. I suppose we weren't quick
enough for them, for one of them drew his pistol and
fired at me. Fortunately he only hit the truss of straw I
was carrying. Then I went round to the back-door,


162
ORANGE AND GREEN.
where I had agreed that Bridget was to come to me if
things were going wrong in the house. A few minutes
afterward she came out with a white face and said: 'For
the sake of the Holy Virgin run for your life, Pat, and
warn the soldiers!' So I slipped away and ran my
hardest."
All this was told as the party were running at full
speed toward the house.
"How strong was the troop?' Walter asked.
"About eighty men, yer honor."
"We must trust to a surprise," Walter said. "We can
get round to the back of the house without being seen.
If we burst in there suddenly we can clear the house and
hold it till my father comes up with the whole troop."
Five minutes after they had left the boat the party ap-
proached the house. Walter halted his men for a
moment in the shrubbery behind it.
"Steady, lads, and take breath You will follow me
into the house and keep together. Give no quarter to
the scoundrels."
Scarcely had he spoken than a piercing scream, accom-
panied by a pistol-shot, was heard within.
"Come on, lads!" Walter exclaimed as he rushed at
full speed at the door, the men following close at his
heels.
The door was open. In the passage lay one of the
maid-servants shot through the head by one of the Hes-
sian troopers, who still held the pistol in his hand.
Walter's pistol cracked before the man had time to draw
his sword, and he fell dead. Then he rushed on into the
hall, in which were a score of troopers gathered round a
barrel of wine which had just been broached. In an in-
stant the Irish were upon them. Many were cut down or
shot before they had time to stand on the defensive.
The rest were slain after a short and desperate fight.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
1G3
"Bar the front door!'' "Walter shouted. "Sergeant
Mullins, take six men and hold it against those outside.
The rest follow me."
Short as the fight had been, it had given time to the
rest of the Hessians scattered about the house in the act
of plundering to gather on the stair, headed by their
officers. Without a moment's hesitation Walter dashed
at them; in point of numbers the party were well
matched; but the fury of the Irishmen more than coun-
terbalanced the advantage of position on the part of the
Hessians.
For five minutes a desperate fight raged; those in front
grappled each other and fought with clubbed pistols and
shortened swords; those behind struck a blow as they
could with sword or musket. But the Hessians, ignorant
of the strength of the force which had thus suddenly at-
tacked them, thought more of securing their safety than
of defending the stairs, so several of those behind slipped
away and jumped from the windows to the ground.
Their desertion disheartened those in front, and with a
shout Walter and his troopers bore back the Hessians
on to the landing and the latter then broke and fled.
Most of them were overtaken and cut down at once;
two or three only gained the windows and leaped out.
The instant resistance had ceased Walter rushed into the
drawing-room, bidding the men run down and hold the
lower windows. Mrs. Conyers lay in a dead faint on the
sofa. Claire, with a face as pale as death, was standing
beside her.
"Walter!" she gasped out; "then we are safe!"
She tottered and would have fallen had not Walter
rushed forward in time to catch her, and place her in a
chair:
"Don't faint, my dear Claire," he said urgently.
"There is your mother to be looked after, and I must
run downstairs, for they are attacking the house."


164
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"I won't faint," Claire said, laughing and crying in a
manner which frightened Walter more than her fainting
would have done. "I shall be better directly, but it
seems almost like a miracle. Oh, those dreadful men!"
"They have all gone now, Claire. We hold the house
and have cleared them out. Pray, calm yourself and at-
tend to your mother. I must go. Don't be frightened
at the firing; my father will be here in a few minutes
with aid."
"Oh! I am not frightened now," Claire said; "and oh!
Walter, you are bleeding dreadfully."
"Never mind that now," Walter said; "I will see to it
when it is all over."
Then, leaving her to look after Mrs. Conyers, he ran
downstairs. His right arm was disabled, he having re-
ceived a sweeping blow on the shoulder from one of the
Hessians as he won his way on to the landing; but he
had no time to think of this now, for his men were hardly
pressed. For a moment a panic had reigned among the
troopers outside at the outburst of firing, and at the sight
of their comrades leaping panic-stricken from the win-
dows; but inquiry soon showed them that they were still
greatly superior in numbers to the party who had ob-
tained possession of the hall; and, furious at the loss of
all their officers and of many of their comrades, they at-
tacked on all sides and tried to force their way in at the
doors and lower windows in spite of the vigorous resist-
ance from within. Walter hurried from point to point,
cheering on his men by assurance that help was at hand,
and seeing that no point had been left undefended.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
CHAPTER X.
A CAVALRY BAID.
^ Stanchlt as Walter's troopers maintained the de-
fense they were sorely pressed, for the enemy ctill out-
numbered them by three to one. Several time? tha Hes-
sians almost forced their way in at one or other of the
windows, but each time Walter, who kept four men with
bim as a reserve, rushed to the assistance of the de-
fenders of the windows and drove them back; but this
could not last. The defenders were hard pressed at sev-
eral points, and Walter, feeling sure that his father
would be up in a very few minutes, called the men off
from their posts and stationed them on the staircase.
With shouts of triumph the Hessians burst in. The
hall was filled with a crowd of furious soldiers, who
hurled themselves like a wave at the defenders of the
staircase. All the pistols had long since been emptied,
and they fought sword to sword. Walter had detached
five of his little party to hold the top of the other stair-
case should the assailants try to force a passage there;
and he had but ten men now, and several of these-
severely wounded, to hold the staircase.
Great as the advantage that the position gave the de-
fenders they were forced up step by step, and Walter
began to fear that he would be driven to the landing be-
fore succor came, when a crowd of figures suddenly burst
in at the hall-door, and above the cracking of pistols,
which at once arose, he heard his father's voice:


16C
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"Down with the murdering dogs! No quarter!"
Taken wholly by surprise, ignorant of the force by
which they were attacked, and taken between two bodies
of enemies, the Hessians turned to fly. Walter and bis
men at once pressed down upon them, while the new-
comers fell upon them with fury.
There was but little resistance, for the Hessians
thought only of flight. Some burst through their as-
sailants and gained the door; more fled down the passages
and escaped by the windows through which they had
entered; but more than thirty of them fell in the hall.
The instant resistance was over Captain Davenant ran
out with his men to secure the horses. A few of the
Hessians who had escaped from the front door had
jumped on the backs of the nearest animals and ridden
off, the rest had fled on foot, and the exulting troopers
counted seventy-two horses remaining in their hands.
Captain Davenant at once returned to the house.
"Where are you, Walter?" he shouted; but there was
no answer. Getting more light Captain Davenant
searched hastily among the numerous bodies scattered in
the hall and soon came upon Walter, who was lying in-
sensible just at the foot of the stairs. The excitement
had supported him so long as the defense had to be con-
tinued; but as soon as succor appeared and the assailants
retreated he had stumbled forward with his men and had
fallen insensible from loss of blood at the foot of the
stairs. Captain Davenant hastily examined him.
"Thank God," he said to Larry, who had smuggled
himself over with the second detachment, "he has no
other wound but this on the shoulder, and has only
fainted from loss of blood! Kun upstairs and snatch a
sheet from one of the beds. We will soon make some
bandages."
Larry did as he was ordered. Slips were torn off the


ORANGE AND GREEN.
let
sheet, and after cutting Walter's coat and shirt from his
shoulder Captain Davenant bound and bandaged up the
wound. In the meantime Larry had got some spirits
from the buffet in the dining-room, and a spoonful or
two were poured down Walter's throat, and in a few
. minutes he opened his eyes. For a moment he looked
confused, then he smiled at his father.
"You were just in time," he said. "We couldn't have
held out much longer."
"Yes, we were just in time, thank God!" his father
said; "but where are the ladies?"
"In the drawing-room. Mrs. Conyers has fainted."
Captain Davenant ran upstairs. Claire had succeeded
in restoring her mother, who had just sat up when Cap-
tain Davenant entered.
"My daughter tells mo that you have rescued us, you
and your son," she said faintly. "How can I thank you
enough?"
"Never mind that now, my dear lady," Captain Daven-
ant said hastily. "Just at present we have no time to
lose. The fellows who have escaped will carry the news
to William's camp, and in half an hour we shall have a
regiment of cavalry here. I must retreat at once, and
carry my wounded with me. What will you do? Will
you stay here, or will you and your daughter come with
us?"
"Oh, I will go with you, please. If I was sure my
husband would come with them I would not fear; bit he
may not hear of it, and there is no saying what they
might do."
"How is Walter, Captain Davenant?" Claire—who had
been waiting impatiently for her mother to finish—burst
in. "He was wounded, and there was such terrible
fighting afterward, and he has not come back with you."
"He fainted from loss of blood," Captain Davenant


1C8
ORANGE AND GREEN.
said; "but I do not think his wounds arc serious. Mrs.
Conyers, I can only give you five minutes. Take with
you any jewels or valuables you prize most. If they
should arrive without your husband they will be sure to
sack and burn the house."
Captain Davenant now hurried downstairs. The
wouuded had already been collected. There were but
four so seriously wounded as to be unable to walk; six
had been killed. The wounded, including Walter, lay
ou blankets. Men took each a corner and at once started
to the spot where the boats had been left. Captain
Davenant told four men to wait at the foot of the stairs
while he went up to the drawing-room. Mrs. Conyers
and her daughter were already prepared. Each had
thrown a shawl over her head and had in their hands the
dressing-cases, containing Mrs. Conyers' jewelry.
"Now, madam," Captain Davenant said, "if you will
point out your plate-chest I have four men below in
readiness to carry it to the boat. It is no use leaving
that to be divided between the marauders."
Mrs. Conyers pointed out two chests, in one of which
deeds and other valuable documents were kept, and in
the other the plate, of which Mrs. Conyers had a con-
siderable quantity. Two men seized each of them.
"Now, Mrs. Conyers, please accompany them as quick
as you can to the river. We will follow and cover the
retreat. I think we have a few minutes yet before cav-
alry can arrive from the camp."
AVhen Captain Davenant and the rearguard reached
the bank they found that the boats had already returned
after taking over the wounded and a portion of the de-
tachment. The rest, with the two ladies and the female
servants, at once took their places, and were taken across
before any sound betokened the arrival of the enemy at
the hall.


ORANGE AND GREEN. 169
"I sincerely hope, Mrs. Conyers," Captain Davenant
said as they landed, "that Mr. Conyers may accompany
the first body of troops who arrive, for if not I fear they
will set fire to the hall. They must have lost consider-
ably over fifty men, and in their rage at finding no one
on whom to wreak their vengeance they will make no in-
quiry as to whom the house belongs; indeed, they will
find no one there to ask. The servants of the house had
already fled, and I sent my boy's servant Larry round to
the stables to tell the men there to ride away with the
horses. They will accompany fifteen of my men, who
mounted as many of the horses we captured, and are
driving the rest to a ford some miles away. They are
a valuable capture, and altogether, as far as we are con-
cerned, we have made a good night's work of it."
"But I do not understand now," Mrs. Conyers said,
"how it was that you came across just in time. How did
you know that we were in such trouble, because I am
sure you would not have come across to attack the sol-
diers in our house without some special reason?"
"No, indeed, madum, I certainly should not have made
your house a battlefield. The fact is, our fortunate ar-
rival is due entirely to my son. He made all the arrange-
ments without my knowing anything about it. He sent
over his boy to one of your lads in the stable, and ar-
ranged that if there should be any trouble in the house
in the absence of Mr. Conyers he should run down and
signal across the river. Your daughter's maid was to let
the boy know what was going on within. It was not till
he had the whole business in train that "Walter told me
anything about it. As it was his plan and not mine, and
I could see he was extremely anxious about it, I left the
matter in his hands, and authorized him to lead the first
party across whenever the signal was made, night or
day. Our boats would only carry twenty-five men, and


170
ORANGE AND GBEBN.
four of these had to return with them. As Walter would
have hut a quarter of our force with him I ordered him,
in case the signal was made and he crossed, not to attack
until I joined him unless the necessity seemed very
urgent. I suppose he considered it was so, for he would
hardly have fallen upon some eighty or ninety troopers
unless he had deemed it most urgent."
"Thank God he did so!" Mrs. Conyers said, "for we
owe him our lives and more. I cannot tell you all now.
It is too horrible to think of. But I shall never forget
the thankfulness and joy I felt when suddenly I heard
the noise of shouts and firing, and the men who were
trying to tear my child from my arms suddenly desist
and rushing out of the room left us alone. I fainted
then, and knew nothing more till I heard, in a confused
way, the sound of shouting and conflict, and Claire was
bending over me, telling me that your son was holding
the stairs against the Germans, and that he was expect-
ing help to arrive every moment. Where is he? I long
to see him and give him my thanks and blessing."
"He is in that cottage yonder, which is at present our
quarters," Captain Davenant said. "I told them to send
off a trooper to Limerick for a doctor as soon as they got
across."
"But you assured me his wound was not dangerous,"
Mrs. Conyers said anxiously.
"No, I am sure it is not. It is a severe wound, but
not likely to have serious consequences. But I fear that
some of the men are in a far worse condition."
"I shall install myself as head nurse," Mrs. Conyers
said decidedly. "We owe so much to you all that that
is the least I can do."
"Very well, Mrs. Conyers. Then I, appoint you head
of the hospital. I will have the four seriously wounded
men moved into the cottage next to mine. You will be


ORANGE A ND GUEEN.
able to obtain plenty of assistance among the women of
the village. O'Moore and I will move into other quar-
ters and leave the cottage to you and your daughter.
Your servants can have the cottage on the other side."
They had now reached the door.
"I will just go in and see him first," Captain Daven-
ant said.
Larry was sitting by Walter's couch.
"Well, Walter, how are you feeling?"
"Oh, I am all right now," Walter said, "since Larry
brought me word that the boats have brought every one
across safely. I was anxious before, you know."
"How does your shoulder feel?"
"It throbs a bit, father; but that is no odds."
"Mrs. Conyers is coming in to see you. She is going
to establish herself here, and O'Moore and I are moving
out. She is going for the present to be head nurse."
"That will be nice," Walter said; "but I shan't want
much nursing."
"I don't know, Walter. A downright cut with a heavy
cavalry sword is not a light matter, even when it falls on
the shoulder instead of the head. But you had better
not talk much now, but when you have seen Mrs. Con-
yers try and get off to sleep. Larry, do you see to mov-
ing our things out at once."
So saying, Captain Davenant left the room, and a
minute later Mrs. Conyers came in. She took the left
hand that Walter held out to her.
"God bless you, my boy!" she said softly. "I shall
never forget what Claire and I owe to you. All my life
I shall be your grateful debtor, and some day I hope that
my husband will be able to thank you for what you did
for us. And now," she went on in a lighter tone, "I
am going to be your nurse, and my first order is that you
lie quite quiet and try to get to sleep. I will make you


m
ORANGE AND GREEN.
some barley-water and put it by your bedside. That is
all I can do for you till the surgeon comes to examine
your wound. Claire wanted to come in to thank you
herself, but the child has gone through enough for one
night, so I have sent her straight to bed. I do not want
her on my hands too."
A few minutes later Larry, having established the two
officers in another cottage, returned and took his place
by Walter's bedside, while Mrs. Conyers went out to see
to the comfort of the other wounded. Half an hour
later a surgeon arrived from Limerick. Two of the cases
were pronounced at once to be hopeless, the other two he
thought might recover. Walter's wound he said was a
severe one, but in no way dangerous. The sword had
probably glanced off something as it descended, so that
the edge had not fallen straight on the shoulder-bone.
It had, however, nearly taken off the arm. Had it fallen
truly it would probably have been fatal.
After he had attended to the more serious cases he
dressed the wounds of the other men, several of which
were quite as severe as that of Walter, although they had
not incapacitated the men from making their way down
to the boats.
Captain Davenant had kept a watch toward the hall.
And as, in an hour after they had crossed, no sheet of
flame was seen arising thence, he was able to tell Mrs.
Conyers that he thought that it was safe, and that either
Mr. Conyers himself must have accompanied the troops
who would by this time have unquestionably arrived
there, or that some officer, aware that the owner of the
house was a friend, and with sufficient authority over the
men to prevent its destruction, must be in command.
In the morning he had a long talk with her. He sug-
gested that she and her daughter should accompany
him into Limerick, and be sent with a flag of truce


ORANGE AND GREEN.
173
across the bridge to join her husband in William's camp.
This, however, she positively declined to accede to.
"In the first place," she said, "I consider that it is my
duty to nurse the men who suffered for our sake. In the
next place, after what we went through last night I re-
fuse absolutely to place myself and my daughter in the
hands of the ruffians who disgrace the cause of William.
Hitherto as a Protestant I have been an adherent of that
cause, as has my husband; henceforth I am an Irish
woman, and as such abhor a cause which can employ
such instruments and inflict such atrocities upon Ireland.
I will write a letter to my husband telling him exactly
what has happened, and how we have been preserved,
and say that nothing will induce me to trust myself and
Claire among William's troops, but that I shall remain
on this side of the Shannon. If, as I trust will not be the
case, the English force their way across the river, I shall
make for Galway, and thence take ship to England,
where we can join him. I intend to remain here as long
as I can be useful as a nurse, and I shall then retire with
Claire to Galway, where I have some relations, with whom
I can stay until matters are decided."
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 com-
mand.
"Your son must be a lad after your own heart," he
said to Captain Davenant. ".It was indeed a most gal-


174
ORANGE AND GREEN.
lant 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 to-day, 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 to-day, 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 talk-
ing 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, order 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. Con-
yers was troubled and perplexed in her mind. Kegard-
ing 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


ORANGE AND GREEN.
175
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 compan-
ion 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


176
ORANGE AND GREEN.
imagine my anxiety as I rode out, and how it was in
creased 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 legiments.
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, toward 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 wa3 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 im-
agine how great a shock it was to me to learn the fright-
ful scene through which you had passed, and how my
sentiments changed toward 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 dis-
cipline was lost, and the troops behaved rather as a horde
of savages than as soldiers. After what had happened I






s
'i
v


ORANGE AND GREEN.
Ill
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 toward 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 satisfac-
tion 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 siay all proceedings in the
matter of Captain Davenant's estate near Bray, which
was on the list of confiscated properties. I am forward-
ing this by one of the royal messengers, who leaves with
dispatches to-day, and when I visit Dublin I shall do my-
self 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 gen-
eral 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 quar-
ters.
"Let the men dismount, Captain Davenant, and let
them and the horses feed. We have a long ride before us
to-night. 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 us easily as he ex-
pects. Ho has had a disagreeable sample of our quality
to-day. A deserter brought in news of the exact position
of his tent, and our artillery have been giving him such


ORANGE AND GREEN.
179
along the highroad. 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-
wagons, 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
center. 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 far-away 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 endeavor to cut off the Irish
horse; but Sarsfield was well acquainted with the ground,
and retired with his troops safely across the Shannon, hav-
ing 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


180
ORANGE AND GREEN.
another heavy gun was fetched from Waterford, to-
gether with a small quantity of ammunition. The regi-
ments wore 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 ad-
vances against the town were pushed forward with vigor.
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, driv-
ing 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 batter-
ing train, nothing was done to annoy the enemy in the
rear, although, had any vigor 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 opin-
ion 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 fow line regiments, but the bulk of the army was



ORANGE AND GREEN.
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 toward 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 at-
tention 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 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


182
ORANGE AND GREEN.
too glad that I was able to be of service to you—and your
mother," he added as an 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. Conyera leturned 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. Con-
yers," 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 bad 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.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
183
CHAPTER XI.
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 consid-
ered sufficient for the purpose, and made his prepara-
tions for the assault. The English regiment of grena-
diers, 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 storm-
ing 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 toward the
breach.
As they approached the wall they discharged their
muskets at the enemy upon the walls, and before assault-
ing 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


184
ORANGE AND GREBN.
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, aud 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 de-
fenders, poured their fire upon them, while all the bat-
teries of the besiegers opened at the same moment to
cover the assault. Through the hail of fire the grena-
diers 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 grena-
diers, fighting with the greatest gallantry, won their way
to the counterscarp, 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 valor of the grenadiers. They got as far as the
counterscarp; 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 ad-
vancing, they were shot down in scores.
Presently there was a sudden movement among the
Irish defenders on the breach, and a few of the grena-
diers who had entered the city burst their way through
them, and rejoined their comrades. No sooner had they


186
ORANGE AND GREEN. ,
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 per-
ished, 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 wagons and horses in con-
sequence of the loss sustained by Sarsfield's attack on the
train. The few wagons 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 inhab-
itants 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
neighborhood 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


ORANGE AND GREEN.
187
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 ter-
rible. 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 re-
main among the country people who had suffered so ter-
ribly 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 insub-
ordination which surpassed anything that they had before
perpetrated. The siege of Limerick brought the cam-
paign 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 re-
pulsed 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


188
ORANGE AND GREEN.
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 re-
ceived with delight by the townspeople, who had suffered
terribly from the exactions and depredations of the for-
eign 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 plun-
dered 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 jus-
tices 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.
Eumors of the ill-treatment of the Protestants who ac-
companied 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 fugi-
tives.
As soon as the English army had left, Captain Daven-
ant obtained for her an order of protection from General
Sarsfield, and she returned for awhile with her daughter
to their house, to which the invalids were carried, Cap-
tain Davenant's troops being again quartered around it.
"I hardly know what is best to do," she said to Cap-
tain 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 per-


ORANGE AND GREEN.
189
fectly 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 bo
pillaged, and perhaps burned like the other houses be-
longing 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 re-
ceived from General Sarsfield will be sufficient to insure
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 de-
stroyed, 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. Sav-
agery 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."
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
witli Claire. The troopers enjoyed their rest and abun-
dance of rations. Captain Davenant's mind had been set
at ease by the receipt of a letter which Mrs. Davenant


ORANGE AND GREEN.
191
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 every one else? I
don't know which of them I hate the most."
"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 quar-
reled 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 under-
standing as to their feelings toward 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 every one 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 honor," he said, after putting out
Walter's clothes, "you will be setting a watch to-night?"



ORANGE AND GREEK
193
"Why, yon have heard nothing certain, Larry?"
"I have not, or I would tell your honor 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 wagons 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 pop-
ular feeling in the country than he was likely to know,
and he accordingly went down to dinner grave and pre-
occupied.
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 to-
morrow afternoon. We can finish the packing up of the
goods you wish to take, and any we cannot get off to-
morrow can be sent in the next day."
Mrs. Conyers looked grave.
"But we have heard of no Rapparees in this neighbor-
hood, Walter," she said. "We have heard of sad ex-
cesses in some parts of the country, but nothing in this,
neighborhood."
"There has been small temptation for them about


194
ORANGE AND GREEN.
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 slight-
est, and I do not think that there is any real cause for
anxiety. Even if they are in the neighborhood the Rap-
parees will hardly venture an attack upon a house oc-
cupied 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 circum-
stances. Still, merely as a matter of discussion, let us
suppose the worst. Let us imagine the house sur-
rounded, 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 be-
come. "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 par-
ticular 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


ORANGE AND QUEEN.
195
were beaten off once they would come again when the
house was undefended. As for the things, should all be
quiet to-night they can be sent in to-morrow 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 lam
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 to-night I had rather that they took every-
thing than that you should risk your life in its defense.
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 to-night to
sack the place, you and your men will offer no resistance."
"If they come in numbers which render successful re-
sistance 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 Lim-
erick 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



ORANGE AND GREEN.
197
house if it is attacked in any force. I wish yon would
let me have twenty-five men and a sergeant just for to-
night. 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 quar-
tered 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 M'ere 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 good-night 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."


198
OltANOK AND GUEEN.
"But I gave orders that there was to be no resistance,
Larry."
"And I wasn't going to resist, your honor; 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 to-night."
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 Will-
iam's troops, and we mean to act up to it."
A chorus of approbation rose from a throng of peas-
ants gathered round the door. A few of them carried
muskets, but the greater part were armed with rude
pikes.


200
ORANGE AND GUEEN.
CHAPTER XII.
WINTER QUARTERS.
Two or there days later Captain Davenant returned to
Limerick with his troop. He had stopped at the house
on his way and learned there of the more which had been
made.
"Well, "Walter, so you nearly had to defend Mrs. Con-
yers against odds again," ho said, as Walter joined him
in the market-place, 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 be-
longed 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 to-
gether 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


ORANGE AND GREEN.
201
no concern when they learned that all who had done so
had laid their bones in the swamps of Ireland, and with-
out his mercenaries William would lind it hard to gather
an army, for the English themselves have no heart what-
ever 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 as-
sume 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 every-
thing. All Ireland was open to them on the day when
William, with all his forces, sat down here before Lime-
rick. Why, they could have marched straight for Dub-
lin and captured it before William heard that they had
crossed the Shannon. They might have cut off his sup-
plies 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


203
ORANGE AND GREEN.
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 traveling 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."


ORANGE AND GREEN. 203
"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 arranged. Will you be ready to start to-morrow
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 ware-
house here and is safe unless William returns and batters
the whole town to pieces. The silver and other valua-
bles our friends here will take care of till better times, so
we have only to pack two valises and mount. The serv-
ants will all find situations here. My daughter's maid,
Bridget, and two or three others have offered to accom-
pany 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 Dub-
lin, 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 Daven-
ant, while the two young people had slipped off for a last
walk together.


204
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"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 daugh-
ters. 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 favor 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


ORANGE AND GREEN.
205
obstacle, and I fear that my husband will regard it as
such even more strongly than I do. He is, however, ex-
tremely 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 Protes-
tantism 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


206
ORANGE AND GREEN.
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 lias 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,
'inhappily, 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 hap-
piness of these young people."
The next morning Mrs. Conyers and Claire sailed for
England, and the military events which shortly after-
ward took place left Walter little time for thought on
other subjects.
On the 21st of September, two days after the depar-
ture of Mrs. Conyers, a heavy cannonading was heard
from the forts at the mouth of Cork harbor, and soon
afterward a horseman galloped into the town with the
news that an English fleet had forced the entrance in
spite of the fire from the forts. This fleet bore five
thousand men under the command of the Earl of Marl-
borough.
The English party at court had long been mortified
and disgusted at the manner in which the English had
been ignored by William, and all the military commands




"CAN YOU GIVE ME SHELTER?" ASKED WALTER.


,-"'^*t.'a


ORANGE AND GREEN. 20T
bestowed upon foreigners. The discontent caused by
the want of success which had attended the operations in
Ireland had greatly strengthened this party, and they
had now succeeded in getting an independent English
expedition sent off under the command of an English
general. William was much annoyed at this, for any
brilliant success attained by Marlborough would have in-
creased the feeling against his foreign favorites. He had
therefore dispatched the division of General Scravenmore
to besiege the town on the land side, and had placed in
command of it the Duke of Wirtemberg, whose rank as a
prince and as a general of higher rank than Marlborough
would enable him to claim the supremo command, and to
carry off the honor of any success that might be gained.
This force arrived before the town within a day of the
appearance of the fleet. Marlborough had already made
good use of his time, for immediately the leading vessels
had effected the passage, troops .were landed in boats,
and the batteries attacked in rear and carried. The rest
of the fleet then entered, and on the 23d and 24th the
troops were landed on the south bank of the river and
commenced their march toward the city, the sailors drag-
ging the guns. Wirtemberg immediately sent to Marl-
borough to claim the command of the whole force.
Marlborough replied that his commission was an in-
dependent one. He denied the authority of any of Will-
iam's foreign officers in Ireland, and stated haughtily
that his troops were British, and he a British officer.
Wirtemberg was greatly offended that the English gen-
eral should affect to look down upon the Danes, Germans,
French, and other foreign ragamuffins who composed his
command, and he insisted strongly upon his claims.
Marlborough maintained his position, and Wirtemberg
was driven at last to propose that they should command
on alternate days, and Marlborough agreed to the pro-
posal.


208
ORANGE AND GREEN.
The position of Cork was not a strong one, although
in the days before the use of artillery it was considered
well-nigh impregnable, being built upon the islands and
marshes formed by the river Lea, and completely sur-
rounded by two branches of the river. But upon three
sides it was surrounded at a short distance only by high
hills, which completely commanded it, and these hills
were defended only by castles and forts of no great
strength.
The garrison was but small, for the Irish were taken
by surprise by the arrival of Marlborough's expedition,
and had prepared only for a siege by Wirtemberg and his
foreign division. They were therefore obliged to
abandon Shandon Castle and two adjoining forts which
defended the hills on the north of the city, and Wirtem-
berg's Danes at once took possession of these works, and
planting their guns there, opened fire on the northern
quarter of the city.
Marlborough constructed his batteries at a monastery
called the Red Abbey on the south point of the river,
where he was separated from the city only by the stream
and narrow strip of marshy ground. These guns soon
made a breach in the walls, and Marlborough prepared to
storm the place, for at low tide it was possible to wade
across the marsh and river.
The garrison, well aware that they could not long de-
fend the place, now offered to capitulate on the same
terms which William had granted to the garrisons of
towns he had captured, namely, that they should be al-
lowed to march out with the honors of war, with their
arms and baggage, and to make their way unmolested to
Limerick. The Prince of Wirtemberg was strongly in
favor of these terms being granted, but Marlborough
peremptorily refused. While a sharp dispute took place
between the two officers, and before any conclusion could



ORANGE AND GREEN.
211
ward that town, and the next day marched thither him-
self at the head of his infantry. The works of Kinsale
consisted of two forts, both of considerable strength,
called the Old Fort and Charles' Fort. They were well
supplied with stores and provisions for a siege. On the
approach of the besiegers the governor set fire to the
town and retired to the forts, and, in answer to the sum-'
mons to surrender, replied that "it would be time enough
to talk about that a month hence."
Marlborough ordered General Tettau to cross the river
in boats with eight hundred picked men and to carry Old
Fort by storm. The assault was made with great deter-
mination and bravery; but the works were strong and
stoutly defended, and the British were about to fall back
discomfited when fortune came to their assistance. Some
loose powder ignited and fired the magazine, by which
more than two hundred men of the garrison were killed
and the works seriously injured. After this disaster the
governor abandoned the fort and withdrew with the sur-
vivors of its garrison to Charles' Fort. Marlborough at
once commenced the siege of this position, but for fifteen
days the place resisted all his efforts. The heavy loss,
however, which the garrison had suffered by the explosion
in Old Fort rendered them unable, by sallies, to interfere
with the works of the besiegers. These were carried on
with great vigor, for Marlborough feared that the ap-
proach of the wet season would put a stop to his opera-
tions. When, therefore, the governor offered to sur-
render on the terms of his being permitted "to march
away with his garrison, their arms, baggage, and all the
honors of war, taking with them all persons who wished
to accompany them, together with their property, to
Limerick," Marlborough at once granted the terms
demanded.
The advent of winter now put a stop to regular opera-


212
ORANGE AND GREEN.
tions; but a war of skirmishes continued, and the British
in their quarters were greatly straitened for forage and
provisions. In Dublin the work of confiscation went on
merrily; the greater part of the Catholic proprietors of
the town were thrown into prison; the various indict-
ments against country gentlemen, followed by the con-
fiscation of their property, were hurried through the
court with the merest shadow of legal form; for the de-
fendants being absent and unacquainted with what was
being done in Dublin, it was only necessary to recite the
accusation to find the accused guilty and to pass sentence
of confiscation—all being the work of but a few minutes.
Nothing could bo done, however, to carry the sen-
tences into effect, for William's troops still possessed
only the ground the troops stood upon and the towns
they occupied. Outside those limits the whole country
was against them. The Earl of Marlborough had re-
turned to England immediately after the surrender of
Kinsale; and General Ginckle, who had now succeeded
to the command, determined to harass the enemy and to
increase the resources at his disposal by an expedition
into the southwest of Ireland, which, covered by Cork
and Limerick, had hitherto been free from the presence
of any English troops. He therefore pushed a strong
body of cavalry and infantry westward from Cork and
Kinsale; and these succeeded in making themselves
masters of Castle Haven, Baltimore, Bantry, and several
other castles on the line of coast. The district was wild
and mountainous, and the passes might have been easily
held against the advance; but the peasants had not been
organized for resistance, and no serious opposition was
encountered.
Colonel O'Driscol, a cousin of MacFinn O'Driscol, and
Captain O'Donovan, two of the principal proprietors of
the neighborhood, soon arrived upon the spot and as-



ORANGE AND GKEEN.
213
sembled a large irregular force, consisting chiefly of
mounted peasants, and with these they soon cooped the
invaders up in the castles they had taken. O'Driscol
next attempted the recovery of his own Castle Haven,
which was strongly defended and stood on a cliff over-
hanging the sea; but his wild peasants were ill adapted
for such work, and they were repulsed by the English
garrison and O'Driscol himself killed. But another force
was advancing from the north; MacFinn O'Driscol with
his regiment pressed forward along the line of Bandon
River, besieged and captured Castle Haven, and expelled
the English garrisons from Baltimore and Bantry.
General Tettau had also marched out from Cork witli
several regiments of infantry and dragoons, with the in-
tention of penetrating into Kerry; but the enemy's light
troops harassed him night and day, wasted the country,
and defended every pass; and he was obliged to return
to Cork without haying accomplished anything. All this
time Ginckle was urging upon the lord-justices, who were
now the real ruling party in Ireland, to issue a proclama-
tion offering pardon and security for person and property
to all who came in; urging that it was impossible that ho
could ever subdue the country while the whole popula-
tion had everything at stake in opposing him.
lie was supported by King AVilliam, who was most
anxious to bring the struggle to an end; but the lord-
justices and the Protestant party at Dublin, who were
bent upon dividing among themselves the property of the
Catholics throughout Ireland, turned a deaf ear to the
arguments of Ginckle, and their friends in London had
sufficient power to prevent the king from insisting upon
his own wishes being carried into effect.
After taking part in the operations in Kerry, Captain
Davenant's troop returned to Limerick, around which
city the greater part of the Irish army were still en-
camped.


214
ORANOK AND ORKEN.
CHAPTER XIII.
A DANGEROUS MISSION.
"Walter," Captain Davenant said to his son one day
when he returned from a council in which he had taken
part at the quarters of General Sarsfield, "I have a mis-
sion for you in Dublin. It is necessary, in the first place,
to communicate with some of our friends there, and in
the second to ascertain, as far as we can, the plans of the
enemy during the next campaign. There are few of us
here who would not be readily recognized in Dublin;
therefore, when there seemed a difficulty in selecting
some one to undertake the duty, I said that I thought
you would be likely to succeed better than most.
"You have not been any time in Dublin, and I ques-
tion whether a single person there would be likely to rec-
ognize you. You will, of course, be in disguise, and your
youth will be in your favor. I don't say there is no
danger in such an undertaking, but I do not think the
risk is greater than that which you have frequently run.
I was sure you would readily undertake the mission, and
I thought I could answer for your intelligence as well as
your discretion."
"I will undertake it certainly, father, if you think me
capable of it," Walter said; "it is dull enough here now
that the wet weather has thoroughly set in, and I shall
really like the adventure. When am I to set out?"
"To-morrow. Your instructions and the letters you
are to carry will be drawn up to-night, and you can set


ORANGE A ND OTIEEN.
215
off after breakfast. I shall ride with you, with a part of
the troop, until you are past the point where you are
likely to fall in with any body of the enemy's cavalry;
after that you will, of course, shift for yourself. We
think you had best travel on foot, dressed as a peasant;
in that way you will attract no attention and pass through
towns occupied by the enemy without questioning."
"I think, father, I will take Larry with me, if you
have no objection. He would be the real thing, and
could do most of the talking; besides sometimes it is
very useful to have some one to send with a message, or
to put on guard when one went in anywhere."
"Take him, by all means, Walter, and, indeed, I agree
with you that you may find him very useful."
Accordingly the following morning Walter and Larry,
dressed as young peasants, mounted, and with the troop
started from the camp. No signs of any parties of the
enemy were seen during their ride, and after proceeding
some twenty-five miles, they dismounted, and with a
hearty farewell from Captain Davenant and a cheer from
the men they started on foot.
The letters of which Walter was the bearer had been
written on very small pieces of paper and had been sewn
up inside the collar of his coat. His instructions as to
the persons on whom he was to call had been learned by
heart and the paper destroyed. Larry was in high glee
at taking part in the adventure, and laughed and jested
as they made their way along. They avoided the main
roads running to Waterford and Dublin, as they would
probably have fallen in with parties of troops journeying
west, and might have been shot out of pure wantonness,
besides being exposed to the risk of being asked awkward
questions.
They slept at peasants' houses, where they were every-
where hospitably received as soon as their hosts assured


ORANGE AND GREEN.
21?
mained in suspense, from the beginning to the end of
the war, as to the fate of those who had left them to take
part in it. The friends did not make long journeys, for
Walter was unaccustomed to walk barefooted, and his
feet at first were very sore and tender; but by the time
they reached Dublin they had hardened and he was able
to stride along by the side of Larry, who, until he started
with him for the war, had never had on a pair of shoes
in his life.
As soon as they reached Dublin they made their way
to the quarters inhabited by the working-classes. There
Walter purchased shoes and made such alteration in their
attire as to do away with their country aspect and give
them the appearance of two young fellows belonging to
the town. Having hired a room and made these changes
they sallied out.
The streets were thronged with foreign troops, who
behaved as if in a conquered country, swaggering along
the streets, pushing the citizens out into the middle of
the road, abusing the tradesmen who refused to part with
their goods at nominal prices, making insolent remarks
to any woman who hurried past them, and behaving with
a freedom and license which showed how completely all
bonds of discipline were relaxed.
"They look mighty bould," Larry whispered, "but it's
mighty little of it they show when they see the Irish
horse advancing agin them. No one would think, to see
them now, as they were the men we saw spurring away
for the bare life on Boyne Water."
"No, indeed, Larry," agreed Walter, who was furious
at what he saw. "I wish we had a few squadrons of
Sarsfield's horse here; we would clear the street of these
vermin in no time. But you must be careful, Larry.
Whatever happens we must not get into any brawl. We
have a mission to perform, and must not think of our-
selves."


218
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"I will remember it, yer honor."
It was well that Larry had been warned, for the next
moment a German soldier passing brushed against him,
and then, with a savage oath, turned and struck him to
the ground. Larry sprang up with his eyes blazing with
passion, but he caught Walter's warning "Larry," and,
hanging his head, moved away without a word.
"That's right, Larry," Walter said approvingly. "I
was afraid for a moment that you were going to spring
at that fellow. If you had you would have been in a
lock-up in five minutes, and as you could have given no
good account of yourself, there you might have remained
for weeks."
"If ever I meet that fellow outside Dublin," Larry
muttered savagely, "I will pay him for the blow he gave
me."
Seeing the risk of another encounter of the same kind
Walter led the way down to the bank of the river, and
there they remained chatting until it became dusk.
"Now, Larry, I must begin my work. My first visit
is to bo to a merchant who lives in a street close to where
the ships discharge. While I am in do you sit down on
a doorstep near and keep a sharp lookout to see whether
the house is watched. It is not likely, but all the better
class of Catholics who remain in the town are regarded
with suspicion."
Walter had no trouble in finding the house he was in
search of, and, knocking at the door, he told the servant
who opened it that he wanted to see the master.
"You must come in business hours," the man said;
"he can't see you now."
"I have a letter to him from his friend Mr. Fitzgerald,
of Waterford. If you tell him that I think he will see
me now."
"That's all right," the man said. "Hetouldme if any


ORANGE AND GREEN.
219
one came with a letter from that gentleman I was to show
him up."
So saying he led him upstairs.
"Here's a young man, your honor, with the letter you
tould me about from Mr. Fitzgerald."
"Show him in," a voice said; and Walter entered a
sitting-room. The gentleman who was with him said
nothing until the door was closed behind him: then he
asked:
"Has the ship come in?"
To which Walter replied:
"She is sailing slowly, but she will come."
"That's right," the merchant said rising. "Where do
you come from?"
"I am Walter Davenant, a cornet in my father's troop
of horse, and I have come direct from Limerick. I have
a letter for you in my collar."
He pulled off his coat, the merchant handed him a
knife, he ripped open the collar, and taking out the
papers concealed there picked out that intended for Mr.
O'Brian, which was not directed, but had only a slight
mark upon it to distinguish it from the others. The
merchant read it in silence.
"I am disappointed, Mr. Davenant," he said as he
finished it. "I had hoped that a dash would be made
at Dublin this winter; but the general says that it has
been decided to fight one more campaign on the defen-
sive, and that in the autumn, when the French arrive,
there will be a general advance. Now, I am ready to an-
swer any question you are instructed to ask."
"In the first place, sir, how many men do you think
would be ready to join in any rising in Dublin?"
"It would all depend upon whether an Irish army was
advancing in this direction. In that case some seven or
eight thousand men would rise. But unless there were a


220
ORANGE AND GREEN.
hope of early assistance I do not think that above a
thousand could bo relied on. I have about that number
on my list. They, as you see, could do nothing unas-
sisted. There are three or four thousand troops here,
and the Protestant mob who would join them would
number seven or eight thousand at the very least.
Therefore any attempt to rise in the face of such odds,
unless after a crushing defeat of William's troops, would
be out of the question. But, as I said, ir an army were
marching on Dublin, the Protestants would be thinking
more of taking to their ships than fighting, and all the
Catholics in the city would then join the movement."
"I think the general hoped that you could have mus-
tered a stronger force, sir."
"So I could a year ago," Mr. O'Brian said; "but the
constant persecution and ill-treatment of the Catholics
have caused large numbers of them to leave the town.
Many of the younger and more determined men have
made their way west and joined the army. I fear that
the numbers I have given are quite as many as can be re-
lied upon."
"The general was in hopes," Walter said, "that a di-
version might have been caused in the spring by a rising
in Dublin, which would, even if unsuccessful, compel the
Dutch general to keep a large force here."
"It might have been done six or eight months ago,"
Mr. O'Brian said; "but the spirit of the people here lias
been very much broken as well as their numbers dimin-
ished. But you can rely upon it that if anything like a
general rising can be got up, wo will do our share here.
With but a thousand men I can rely on, I feel that any
open insurrection would be hopeless; but we could fire
the city at a score of points night after night, and so
alarm the citizens that they would insist on a consider-
able force being kept here for their protection, and this


ORANGE AND GREEK
221
would aid our friends outside. I know nothing as to
what is being done there, I have only charge of the matter
inside the city."
"I am well aware of that, sir, and have to call upon
those who have the threads of the movement throughout
the country in their hands. I only arrived to-day, and
came to you first in order that I might know how matters
stand here before I see the others. I shall, of course, call
again upon you before I leave."
After leaving Mr. 0'Brian, Walter visited the houses of
several others to whom he bore letters. The accounts of
the feeling throughout the country were more encourag-
ing than those which he had received from Mr. O'Brian.
The hatred of the invaders was greater than ever, and
the peasantry in all parts were in a state of sullen desper-
ation; indeed the enemy could nowhere move in small
parties without the certainty of being attacked. The
pressing need was arms. A great part of the peasants
who owned guns had already joined the army, and the
rest possessed no weapons beyond roughly-made pikes
and scythes fixed on long handles. These were formidable
weapons in a sudden attack on any small party, but they
would not enable the peasants to cope with any chance of
success against considerable bodies of troops, especially
if provided with artillery. The persons whom Walter saw
were in communication with the disaffected in all parts
of the country, and agreed in the opinion that a general
rising should be delayed until some striking success was
obtained by the Irish army, when the whole country
would rise and fall upon the enemy wherever met with.
The plans for a rising having been discussed and arranged
after several interviews, at some of which most of the
leaders of the movement were present, Walter prepared
to start again for the camp with the news that the first
Irish victory would be followed by a rising throughout


ORANGE AND GREEN.
223
to Limerick. I have told you exactly what has been ar-
ranged with people I have seen, and you can tell my
father, who will report to the general. But whatever
you do, don't stop here with any idea of getting me out
of their hands. The most important thing is that they
should know at Limerick exactly what has been arranged.
If you remain here you would almost certainly be caught
also, for as the man who has followed us will be aware
that we are together, a search will at once be made for
you. So mind, my orders are that if you see I am in
trouble you are at once to set out for Limerick. If you
think that I may manage to get away, you are also to
leave at once, but are to wait for me for twelve hours at
the village three miles out. If I do not come by the end
of that time it will be that I have been taken, and you
are to go straight on."
It was on the evening when all the arrangements were
finally settled that a loud knocking was heard at the door
of the house where eight of the principal persons in the
affair were assembled. One of them looked out of the
window and announced that the street was full of sol-
diers. All leaped to their feet and drew their swords.
"It is of no use to resist, gentlemen," Walter said.
''Do you put bottles and glasses on the table and sit
down quietly. I will try to escape. If they find you
alone they can prove nothing against you, and if I get
safe off you also are safe. Is there any way out on to the
roof? No doubt the house is watched behind."
"There is a trapdoor," the gentleman, in whose house
they were, said, and led the way upstairs at full speed.
As he was unbolting the trap Walter ran into a bed-
room and seized an armful of blankets, then ran up the
ladder to the trapdoor and stepped out on to the roof
The door was closed behind him, and he heard the bolts
drawn, and then his host ran downstairs and told the


22-1
ORANGE AND GREEN.
frightened servants to open the doors, which had so far
resisted the attack from without. Headed by an officer,
the soldiers rushed in.
"What means this violence?" the gentleman asked.
"Why is my house broken into in this way?"
"I arrest you and all who are in this house," the
officer said, "on the charge of treason."
"Treason!" the gentleman said coolly; ^'you will find
no treason here. I have a few friends upstairs who are
cracking a bottle of port; but that is not, so far as I am
aware, against the law."
The officer ran upstairs to the room where the others
were standing, as if surprised at the tumult, round the
table, on which were bottles and half-filled glasses.
"Take the names of all these persons," the officer said
to the sergeant who followed him, "and then convey
them in custody to the castle."
"There is no trouble about their names," the host said.
"All are well known and peaceful citizens, as can be
testified by any magistrate."
"Where is the man who was with you?" the officer
said, looking round.
"There is, so far as I am aware, no one in the house,
sir, beyond these gentlemen and my domestics."
"It is a lie!" the officer exclaimed furiously. "A man
was seen to enter this house an hour and a half ago, and
no one has left since."
"A young man! Oh, I suppose you mean the young
fellow who brought me a message from my cousin at
Waterford, and who called to ask if I had yet found him
any employment. Oh, yes, he has been here, but left
some time ago, unless he is chatting with the maids in
the kitchen."
The officer directed a rigorous search to be made of the
house. The soldiers soon reported that every nook and


ORANGE AND GREEN.
225
comer had been examined, but that no one was to be
found. At this moment a shot was fired in tfhe street,
and a sergeant ran in.
"Captain Peters- bid me say, sir, that they have just
caught sight of a man on the roof of a house some dis-
tance along the street."
"Take the prisoners to the castle under a strong guard,
sergeant. You will be answerable for their safety," the
officer exclaimed, as he ran downstairs.
Directly the trap closed behind him, "Walter—sure that
some minutes would pass before the method of his escape
was known—tore the blankets he had brought with him
into wide strips, tied the ends together, and twisted
them up. into the form of a rope; then, coiling this over
his arm, he made his way along the roofs. The street
below was now a mass of people. The report that a
Popish plot had been discovered, and that a number of
important arrests had been made, spread quickly as the
soldiers were seen gathered round the house. The news
was sufficient to stir up party feelings, and the mob
which collected soon set up the shout which had of late
been so often raised in the streets of Dublin—"Down
with the Papists!"
Soon the crashing of glass was heard, as stones were
hurled at the dwellings of known Catholics. Walter,
anxious for the safety of Larry, who was, he knew, some-
where without, tried to look down into the street to see
what was going on, believing that in the darkness he
could not be seen. The flash of a musket, and the
whistle of a ball close to him showed him that his figure
had been seen against the sky-line. Drawing back, he
paused a moment in thought. The trapdoor would be
discovered at once, and a search on the roof commenced,
and the soldiers would be placed behind the houses.
There was no time to be lost in continuing his search for


2'W
ORANGE AND GREEN.
a house with a building projecting behind on to which
he could lower himself with his rope, which was not
nearly long enough to reach the ground.
Looking over at the back between two of the sharp
ridges of the roofs, ho hung his rope so that it would fall
across a window, fastened the end round a stack of chim-
neys, and then taking hold of it, swung himself over.
He had been very careful in tying the knots, and had
tested them by pulling at them with all his strength;
but he did not feel at all certain that they might not draw
with his weight, in which case he must have been dashed
to pieces on the ground far below him; but there was no
time to hesitate, and as fast as he could he began to slide
down the rope, the frequent knots affording good hold for
his hands.
At last he reached the window. It was made of the
small diamond-shaped panes at that time in general use.
Holding the rope with one hand and his legs, he dashed
the other hand through a pane just where he judged the
fastening inside would be. Three panes were beaten in
before he felt the latch. This was easily turned. The
frame opened outward, and he had some difficulty in pull-
ing it past him; then, grasping the woodwork, he drew
himself in, and with a great effort succeeded in gaining a
sufficient holding to enable him to leave go of the rope
and make good his footing inside.
He had little fear of the inmates of the house taking
notice of the fall of glass; for had they noticed the sound
above the din in the street they would have supposed
that the breakage was caused by one of the flying stones.
He ran lightly downstairs and opened a door at the back
of the house and found himself in the yard. The wall
was not very high, and a spring enabled him to get his
fingers on the top. He was soon sitting there, and.then
dropped into the road behind. The sound of his fall


228
ORANGE AND GREEN.
the tide was running up. Had it been ebbing he would
have made down and tried to gain the shore under shelter
of the shipping moored below. But it was useless to
think of swimming against the tide. His pursuers were
but a few yards behind him, and the second time he rose
to the surface for air two or three shots were fired. He
dived again, and when he next came up took a deliberate
look round in order to judge of his chances. He was
how about a third of the way across. The shore he had
left was already lined with people, and several were
gathering on the opposite bank.
Two or three shots struck the water close to him, and
he knew that he was visible to his pursuers. Taking a
long breath he again went under water. He was a first-
rate swimmer and diver, having bathed regularly summer
and winter in the bay below the castle.
He had this time turned his face toward the shore he
had quitted. The tide he knew was sweeping him up.
He kept under water as long as he possibly could, swim-
ming his hardest. When he could keep under no longer,
he turned on his back and permitted himself to rise
slowly to the surface.
The moment his mouth and nostrils were above water
he got rid of the pent-up air, took another breath, and
sank again. He swam on until he felt by the ground
rising rapidly in front of him that he was close to the .
•dge. He then cautiously came to the surface and
looked round. He was close under the bank from which
he had started, but two or three hundred yards higher
up. The bank rose straight up some twelve feet above
him, and he could hear persons talking close to its edge
—"There he is."—"No, he isn't."—"Pretty nearly over
the other side."—"I don't see him."—"They will catch
him as he gets out."—"I believe he has sunk."—"He never
could keep under all this time."—"One of the bullets
must have hit him."


ORANGE AND GREEN.
229
Then a voice in the crowd shouted, "There's his head
just in the middle of the river," and a stone splashed in
the stream. It was1 followed by a volley of other stones
and several musket-shots in the same direction.
Walter, having now got his breath, sunk his head
quietly below the water, and swam on again, keeping
close under the bank. "Whenever he came up for air he
listened for a moment: Shots were still being fired be-
low him, and he knew that the attention of all upon the
shores was still directed toward the center of the stream,
and that there was but small chance of any one leaning
over to gaze down into the water close to their feet.
His hopes rose as every minute placed him further
from his pursuers. He could no longer hear voices above
him when he rose, but he swam on for upward of a mile
and struggled up the bank well beyond the walls of the
town.
He lay down a few minutes to rest himself, walked
half a mile along the bank, and then entering the river
again, swam across, for the road he was to follow was on
the south side of it.
He made his way across the country until he saw a
small shed. He entered this, and finding some hay in
the loft, stripped off his wet clothes, and crept deep into
the hay to warm himself, for the water was cold, and he
was shivering from head to foot. As soon as it was light
he again put on his clothes and started at a run, which
he maintained until he was hi a thorough glow in spite of
his wet clothing. He did not approach the village, at
which he had arranged to meet Larry, until the sun was
high and his clothes had dried so far that they would not
attract the attention of any one who might be passing.
Then he went into the deserted village and took up his
place in one of the ruined cottages, from which he could
obtain a view of the road from Dublin.


23U
ORANGE AND GREEN.
Half an hour later he saw Larry coming along it. Al-
though there was no one else in sight, some one might
be going the other way, and Walter therefore remained
in his hiding-place till Larry was abreast of him, when
he showed his head in the doorway and called him by
name.
Larry gave a cry of joy, and rushing in, threw his arms
round him and burst into tears.
"It's a terrible fright you have given me!" he exclaimed
when he could find words. "I have been breaking my
heart all night. Sure I thought you were at the bottom
of the river."
"Not this time, Larry, though it was a pretty close
thing. Did you see it all?"
"Sure and I did," Larry said. "I was sitting on a
doorstep watching the house when I saw the sodgers
coming along. They turned up from a side street, and were
so close that I saw I could not get across and get the door
opened in time to give you the alarm. Then they began
to knock at the door, and for a bit I felt so wake that I
could not move. Then the crowd began to gather, and
then I said to myself, The master will try to shlip out at
the back of the house. So I went round, but I found
the thieves of the world waiting for ye there. But I was
sure ye weren't the one to let them take ye widout a
struggle for it. So I moved a bit away, and jist waited.
"The time seemed long, when on a suddint I heard
the sodgers sing out, and then fire and set out to run. I
never doubted it was you, and so off I went behindt them
as hard as I could tear. I wasn't long in coming up to
them, and at first I thought ye would get clean away.
Then my heart fell when I saw those villains attempt to
seize ye, but when I thought it was all over ye turned
sharp off and made for the river. I was with the first of
them to get there, and I ran accidental against the first


232
ORANGE AND GREEN.
"Sometimes I thought I should find you, then again I
tould myself that if you had been alive I must have seen
you come up agin; for, knowing the strength of the
stream and how fast you could swim, I could tell pretty
nigh about where you would come up if you were keep-
ing straight up the river. How did you manage it at all,
Master Walter?"
"I turned and swam back again to the bank, Larry. I
knew every one would be watching the middle of the
river, and would not be looking at the water in front of
them. Of course the stream took me up a long way. I
only came up once, on my back, took a breath, and went
down again, and the second time I was right under the
bank and well out of sight, though I could hear them
talking above me. It was just when I looked round then
that I saw them throwing stones and firing into the
middle of the river two hundred yards lower down, and
after that I had only to keep on swimming under water
close to the bank."
"And that is how ye managed it! It was a grand
thought entirely to swim back to us. I never thought of
that. I was most afraid you would go for the opposite
shore, and there were plenty had gathered there ready to
seize you. I didn't think I could have missed you if
you'd kept on in the middle, and I have been puzzled al-
together as to what could have' become of you if ye were
really alive. I have got some bread in my bundle here,
and a bottle of spirits, and you had better have a bite
and a sup before we go on, for it's pretty nigh as white
as a ghost ye are."
The meal seemed to put new life and strength into
Walter, and after its conclusion he was ready to step out
again with fresh energy. They thought it better at cnce
to leave the road and tramp across the country. By so
doing they avoided all parties of the English troops, and


ORANGE AND GREEN.
233
reached the Irish army without adventure. Walter at
once reported himself to General Sarsfield, and related
all that had taken place in Dublin.
"You have done excellently, Mr. Davenant, and your
escape from capture was an extraordinary one. Unfor-
tunately the betrayal of what was doing, and the arrest
of our friends, is likely to upset all the plans you had
arranged."
"I hope not, sir," Walter said. "I know that they
were all careful to have no written documents, for it was
always possible that the houses of the Catholics might be
searched."
"That may be so," the general said; "but I fear that
this traitor will have managed to overhear some of the
conversation; and the fact of their meeting and of your
escape will in itself tell against them sufficiently to in-
sure their being kept in prison at any rate for a consid-
erable time, and even if released they would be suspected
persons, and would be unable to make the slightest move."
The general's previsions were justified. The whole of
those arrested were retained in prison for some months,
and no such general rising as had been planned was ever
carried into effect.
During the winter stores and ordnance arrived from
France for the supply of the Irish army, and from Eng-
land for the use of the British, and a great number of
officers from the Continent also joined both armies.
The discontent among the Irish at the apathy of
France was extreme. They had embarked in the war on
the strength of the promises of King Louis. None of
these promises had been fulfilled. The supplies of arms
and money had been most meager, the few thousand
troops sent had never taken part in any of the operations,
and their coming had been much more than counter-
balanced by the troops sent from Ireland in exchange for


234
ORANGE AND GREEN.
them. An additional cause of discontent was given by
the fact that William exchanged all the prisoners taken
in Ireland for Dutch prisoners in the hands of Louis, and
the Irish so handed over were all incorporated in the
French army.
So great was the discontent that had a proclamation
of pardon and protection been offered, the whole Irish
army would have disbanded and all resistance ceased.
But Louis, alarmed at finding that it was likely William
would be freed from his troubles at home, and be at
liberty to give his whole attention to the war on the Con-
tinent, sent fresh promises of large and speedy aid, and
dispatched General St. Ruth to take the command in
Ireland in place of Lauzun, who had returned to France.
This appointment caused fresh discontent among the
Irish. Their cause had already been well-nigh ruined by
the interference and incapacity of the French generals,
and on the retirement of Lauzun they had confidently
expected that Sarsfield would be appointed commander-
in-chief, and that henceforth there would be unity of de-
sign in their operations. St. Ruth was accompanied by
a large number of young French officers, whose demeanor
still further widened the breach between the French and
Irish.
St. Ruth at once inspected the army, now concentrated
between Limerick and Athlone. Except that there was
a great deficiency in horses for the cavalry the army was
greatly improved in discipline and appearance since the
battle of the Boyne, for both officers, petty officers, and
men had learned their duties. The army had passed the
winter in comfortable quarters, and had been well supplied
with food. The difficulty was to find horses. The Eap-
parees had carried off many of the charges of the English
cavalry by stratagem, and it was a common practice of the
Danish and other foreign troops to sell their horses to


ORANGE AND GREEN.
235
the Irish at the outposts and pretend that they were
stolen. Still the supply was altogether insufficient, and
St. Ruth, finding that he could not get horses from the
enemy, determined to take them from his friends.
A proclamation was accordingly issued inviting all the
gentry throughout the country held by the Irish to meet
him at Limerick, mounted and accoutered in the best
manner. Reports were spread that an important com-
munication was to be made to the gentlemen of the coun-
try from King James, and that many marks of honor and
distinction were to be conferred.
Accordingly, there was a very numerous attendance of
gentry on the day fixed. St. Ruth appeared on the
ground with a large body of cavalry. He made a speech
to the gentlemen—complimented them on their punctual
attendance and gallant appearance; told them that it
was necessary that every man should make sacrifices for
the defense of his religion and his estates, and requested
them to hand over their horses to the cavalry. He then
at once rode off the ground, leaving the cavalry to take
possession of the horses. Anger and expostulation were
useless, and the gentlemen had to return on foot, sadder
men; but the army obtained a large and valuable addi-
tion of horses, and St. Ruth was able to march out at the
head of twenty thousand foot and five thousand well-
appointed cavalry.
Their direction was Athlone, toward which point
Ginckle was also directing his movements, having as-
sembled his whole force at Mullingar, withdrawing the
garrisons from almost all the towns, in order to raise his
force in the field. The alarm in Dublin was, in conse-
quence, extreme, and the council and lords-justices be-
sought Ginckle not to leave them without protection;
but he only replied that they had it in their own power
to put an end to the war by publishing such a declaration


236
ORANGE AND GREEN.
of pardon and security for person and property as would
satisfy the Irish in James' army. But the council, even
in this moment of alarm, refused to renounce their
golden hopes of confiscation.
Ginckle's first attack was directed against the village
of Ballymore, which lay between Mullingar and Athlone.
It was defended by a thousand cavalry and infantry, and
a sergeant and a few men were posted in a castle on an
eminence some distance from the village. The first at-
tack was made on the castle, but the sergeant and his
little garrison made a long and gallant resistance,"and
the savage Dutchman was so infuriated at the opposition
that when at last the post was taken he ordered the gal-
lant sergeant to be at once hung.
He then sent word to the garrison of the village that if
they did not surrender he would serve them as he had
served the sergeant. They were unmoved by the threat,
and made a long and gallant defense against the whole of
Ginckle's army; and the Dutch general was unable to
overcome their resistance till he at last offered fair terms
of surrender. The position being a strong and impor-
tant one, Ginckle spent some days in adding to the de-
fensive works the Irish had erected before he moved for-
ward and sat down in front of Athlone. His army was
well provided with heavy artillery and everything neces-
sary for a siege, and he was firmly resolved that there
should be no repetition of the disastrous failure of the
preceding autumn.


238
ORANGE AND GREEN.
of the heavy artillery brought to bear upon it. A mill
which stood in the river, and was connected with the
bridge, was set on fire, and the sixty soldiers posted in it,
being unable to escape, were all burned. Night and day
seven great batteries played incessantly upon the town.
On the 26th of June thirty wagons loaded with powder
and a hundred carts with cannon-balls arrived from Dub-
lin, and enabled the besiegers to keep up their fire with-
out intermission. The interior of the town was reduced
to ruins—nothing remained erect save the city walls, in
which the breaches, as fast as they were made, were re-
paired by the Irish. The slaughter among those so em-
ployed was very heavy; but there was no lack of men,
the places of those who fell being at once supplied by
others willing to give their lives in the defense of the
town.
At last there was nothing more that the besiegers
could do. The town was reduced to ashes, but the river
and the broken arch still separated them from the ruins.
To remain much longer where they were was impossible,
for the country on every side was exhausted, and no
longer afforded food for man or horse. The country peo-
ple had fled from the cruelty and spoliation of Ginckle's
foreign soldiery, carrying with them all their effects; and
the Irish light troops and armed peasantry hovered
round the camp, laid the country waste, and intercepted
their supplies and communications with Dublin.
Ginckle held a council of war to consider what was to
be done. It was admitted that they must force the pas-
sage of the river without loss of time, or submit to the
alternative of retreat and the utter failure of the cam-
paign. It was finally resolved to attempt the passage of
the bridge by throwing a wooden gallery over the broken
arch, and forcing their way across at all cost. Additional
batteries were now raised on the bank of the river, and a


ORANGE AND GREEN.
239
heavy fire was poured, without intermission, upon the
Irish on their side of the broken arch.
Both parties had erected a breastwork on the bridge at
their respective sides of the breach, and from behind this,
day and night, a continued musketry fire was kept up,
the grenadiers of the English army throwing grenades
into the enemy's works. After some days the breast-
work on the Irish side was set on fire by the continued
assault of shot and grenades. The wattles of which it
was composed, dried by the hot weather, were soon in a
blaze, and under cover of the flames and smoke the Eng-
lish ran forward the great beams they had prepared in
readiness, and threw them across the gap in the bridge.
The fire from all the batteries on the English side was
directed against the burning breastvork, while the
grenadiers hastened to lay planks across the beams to
complete the bridge. The work was well-nigh done when
an Irish sergeant and ten men, all clad in armor, leaped
through the flames of the breastwork, and began to hew
with their axes at the beams and planks.
For a moment the British were paralyzed at the daring
action. Then the batteries and musketry fire again
opened, a storm of shot and bullets swept across the
bridge, and the whole of the gallant fellows fell dead,
but in a moment another party, similarly armed, dashed
t hrough the flames and took their places.
Regardless of the fire they whirled their axes. Nine
fell, but the last two gave the final stroke to the beams;
the bridge fell with a crash into the river below, and the
two survivors recrossed the breastwork and joined their
friends within amid the wild enthusiasm of the defend-
ers; an enthusiasm in which even the baffled assailants
joined, for the British grenadiers gave a cheer in token
of their admiration at the gallantry and devotion of the
deed.


240 OhAhQAI AND GREEN.
In all history there is no record of a more gallant action
than this, performed by two sergeants and twenty men,
who thus encountered almost certain death to maintain
their post. The destruction of the temporary bridge filled
Ginckle and his officers with consternation, and the
manner in which their design had been baffled showed
the spirit of the defenders and the magnitude of the task
which they had undertaken; but it was resolved at
Another council which was called to attempt one more
effort before abandoning the enterprise. A finished plat-
form was constructed. This was to be thrown over the
arch, and a chosen body of the bravest troops in the army
were to throw themselves across and try to force a pas-
sage. At the same time a division was to cross the river
by a ford near the bridge, and another to attempt to
cross by a bridge of pontoons prepared in readiness.
The Irish were informed, by French deserters, of what
was going on in the English camp, and early on the morn-
ing of the assault several strong divisions of the Irish
army were seen marching down from the camp two miles
away into the town. Here they were drawn up in readi-
ness to repulse the assault.
The British were some time before they were ready for
the attack, but at ten o'clock the whole army stood in
close order ready to advance. The first to move forward
were those who were to carry the bridge. The Irish
guns, which still remained intact, opened upon them,
but they pressed forward along the bridge to the broken
arch, and, with less trouble than had been anticipated,
threw the platform across it. Instead of rushing forward
at once the grenadiers stood behind their breastwork and
hurled their grenades at the Irish grenadiers, who stood
in close order on the opposite edge.
These, however, stood their ground and hurled their
grenades with great effect into the column. One of


ORANGE AND GREEN.
241
these exploded against the English breastwork and set it
on fire. It at once blazed up; a strong west wind was
blowing and drove the smoke and flames into the faces of
the English grenadiers, who for some time strove in vain
to extinguish the flames, notwithstanding the heavy fire
which the defenders poured into them. They had at last
to fall back, and the Irish, sallying from behind their
breastwork, pulled down the burning timbers on to the
bridge, which was soon in flames.
The other divisions of the English army, finding that
the grenadiers on the bridge made no progress, did not
attempt to perform their part of the work, and finally
the whole retreated to their camp. That evening
another council of war was held. Matters now looked
desperate, and the fact that the enterprise had this time
failed owing to the hesitation of the troops to push for-
ward to the attack of the enemy, made the prospect appear
more hopeless. Nevertheless, in spite of the opposition of
Generals Ginckle and Mackey the council determined
that one more attempt should be made, and that this
should be carried out at daylight next morning in the
hopes of taking the Irish by surprise.
It was accordingly given out that the army would re-
treat in the morning, and the heavy guns were withdrawn
from the batteries. St. Ruth, who was convinced that
Athlone could not be taken, and who had spent the
greater portion of his time in entertaining tha ladies and
gentry of the neighborhood with balls and fetes, fell into
the trap, and, contrary to the opinion and advice of the
Irish generals, recalled from the town the regiments
which had marched in that morning and replaced them
with only three battalions of inferior troops.
The Irish officers remonstrated warmly, but St. Ruth,
to show his disdain for their opinions, invited a large
party of ladies and gentlemen to an entertainment in the


ORANGE AND GREEN.
evening. In the night the British army prepared for the
attack; the commanders of the respective divisions all
led their troops in person. The garrison of the town
were all asleep. In St. Ruth's camp the festivities were
over, and the general and his officers had retired. The
Irish sentinels, who noted the movement in the British
camp, supposed that they were mustering to retreat, and
thus the three British columns drew up inside the town
wall in readiness to advance, without a notion of their
purpose being entertained on the opposite side of the
river.
One column, headed by sixty chosen men in complete
armor, was to cross the bridge and throw a platform over
the arch; another to cross by the ford; the third by a
pontoon bridge. When the church bell tolled six the
three columns advanced simultaneously, and before the
Irish were thoroughly awake, the leading battalions had
forded the river, the platform was in its place, and the
troops pouring into the town.
A few guns were hastily discharged, and then the men
of the three Irish regiments in the town fled in haste to
avoid capture by the columns pouring across the river by
the ford and pontoon bridge. Many indeed were cap-
tured while asleep. St. Ruth, roused from sleep by the
sound of cannon, ordered the troops to arms, but it was
too late. The town, or rather its ruins, were in the pos-
session of the British, and the brilliant success which had
been won by the valor and determination of the Irish
troops was forfeited by the carelessness, folly, and self-
confidence of the French general.
Had he listened to the advice of the Irish officers the
attempt, like those which had preceded it, must have
failed, and in that case there was nothing remained to
Gincklebut a precipitous retreat to Dublin, with the loss
of the whole of the advantages gained in the previous


ORANGE AND GREEN.
243
campaign and the necessity of bringing the war to an end
by the concession of the rights and privileges of the Irish
Catholics and landowners.
The whole course of history was changed by the folly
of one man. Ginckle had taken Athlone, but it was at a
vast cost of life, and he was more than ever impressed
with the magnitude of the task of subduing Ireland so
long as the people were driven to desperation by the
threatened confiscation of all their lands and by the per-
secution of their religion. King William too was more
anxious than ever for the termination of hostilities, and
on the very day that the news of the fall of Athlone
reached him he issued a proclamation offering protection,
security of all possessions, and continuance in auy offices
which they held under James, tp all who would lay down
their arms in three weeks' time.
The issue of such a proclamation as this a year before
would have satisfied the Irish and put a stop to the war;
but it was now too late. The promises made had been
broken over and over again, and the Irish had but too
much reason to fear that when all opposition ceased the
council and their train of greedy adherents would again
obtain the ascendency, and would continue their work of
spoliation and robbery. Mo'^over, the Irish army did
not feel itself in any way beaten. It was not its fault
that the second siege of Athlone had not terminated as
the former siege and that of Limerick had done, and that
Ginckle's army was not hurrying back defeated and dis-
organized to Dublin. They felt that at the battle of the
Boyne they had suffered no defeat, although, in accord-
ance with the general plan, they had fallen back, and
they eagerly desired to fight one battle to prove that in
the open field they were more than a match for the mer-
cenaries of King William. The council and lords-jus-
tices, who were aghast at the proclamation which threat


244
ORANGE ANv GREEN.
ened to destroy their hopes of dividing among them-
selves and their friends all the lands of the Catholics of
Ireland, did their best to prevent its acceptance by
spreading rumors that it was a mere bait, and that its
promises would not be fulfilled, while St. Ruth and his
French officers did their best also to set the Irish against
it.
St. Ruth, who was really a good officer, was conscious
that, so far from having gained credit as he had expected
from a command in Ireland, the misfortunes which had
happened were entirely attributed to him, and he longed
for an opportunity of wiping out the slur on his military
reputation. He therefore urged upon the Irish generals
that Ginckle had indeed gained but little; that all the
hopes of William rested upon that army alone; and that
with its defeat they could demand aud obtain any terms
they liked to lay down; besides which he was able to as-
sure them by his advices from France that Louis was
making preparations for assisting them on a vastly larger
scale than he had previously done. Thus from a com-
bination of circumstances the proclamation elicited no
response.
AVhiU the siege of Athlone was being carried on the
main body of Sarsfield's cavalry remained for the most
part in the camp near the town, but commanders of
small bodies of men like the corps of Captain Davenant,
which were regarded as irregulars, had liberty of action.
Some made long raids to the east and often spread con-
fusion and dismay among the enemy by appearing sud-
denly when no Irish troops were believed to be within a
hundred miles. Some went down and joined the peas-
ants, who were keeping up desultory lighting in the
neighborhood of Cork, harassing the English whenever
they moved from one point to another, or sent out parties
to collect forage or provisions. Captain Davenant, who


ORANGE AND GREEN.
247
drivers, who were not to move until joined by their
owner. He then rode back and shook hands with John.
"I am glad to see you," he said. "All are well, I
hope, at both our homes?"
"Quite well, sir." 1
"Thank God for that! Now I must leave you to see
that our work is thoroughly carried out. You will find
your wagons safe a quarter of a mile along the road. I
will leave you to tell all the home news to Walter, who
will retell it to me afterward."
"Now tell me all the news," Walter said when they
were together again.
"The news is not altogether pleasant," John replied.
"The whole of the country round Dublin is being harried
by the cavalry in garrison there. They pay no attention
whatever to papers of protection, and care but little
whether those they plunder are Protestant or Catholic,
friend or foe. They go about in small parties like bands
of brigands through the country; and those who go to
Dublin to obtain redress for their exactions are received
with indifference, and sometimes with insult, by the
authorities. Then, too, we have had trouble at home.
"My grandfather became more bigoted than ever, and
would, if he had the power, have annihilated every Cath-
olic in Ireland. My father and he had frequent quarrels,
and I was in daily expectation of an open breach between
them, and of my father giving up his share of the prop-
erty and taking us to England. He was a backslider in
my grandfather's eyes. The tales of battle, plunder,
and murder seemed to have taken the latter back to his
own fighting days; and he was rather inclined to consider
the generals as lukewarm than to join in the general in-
dignation at their atrocious conduct.
"Even the sufferings of the Protestants did not seem
to affect him. The Lord's work, he said, cannot be car-


248
ORANGE AND GREEN.
ried on without victims. It horrified me to hear him
talk. If this was the religion of our fathers, I was fast
coming to the conclusion that it was little better than no
religion at all.
"I think my father and mother saw it in the same
light, and the breach between them and my grandfather
daily widened. But I have not told you the worst yet.
A party of cavalry rode up the other day, and wore about,
as usual, to seize upon some cattle. My father was out,
and my grandfather stepped forward and asked them
'how they could lay it to their consciences to plunder
Protestants when, a mile or two away, there were Catho-
lics lording it over the soil—Catholics whose husbands
and sons were fighting in the ranks of the army of James
Stuart?'
"I was in the house with my mother, but we heard
what was said; and she whispered to me to slip out be-
hind and find my father and tell him what was being
done. I made off; but before I had gone a quarter of a
mile I saw the soldiers riding off toward the castle, with
my grandfather riding at their head. I was not long in
finding my father,who at once called the men off from their
work and sent them off in all directions to raise the coun-
try; and in an hour two hundred men, armed with any
weapon they could snatch up, were marching toward the
castle, my father at their head. There were Catholics
and Potestants among them—the latter had come at my
father's bidding, the former of their own free-will.
"We hurried along, anxiously fearing every moment
to see flames rise from the castle. Fortunately the sol-
diers were too busy in plundering to notice our ap-
proach, and we pounced down upon them and seized
them unawares. They were stripping the place of every-
thing worth carrying away before setting it on fire. We
burst into the hall, and there was a sight which filled my


ORANGE AND GREEN.
249
father and myself with anger and shame. Your grand-
mother was standing erect looking with dignity mingled
with disdain at my grandfather; while your mother, hold-
ing your brother's hands, stood beside her. My grand-
father was standing npoo a chair; in his hand he held a
Bible, and was pouring out a string of demmncing texts
at the ladies, and was at the moment we entered compar-
ing them to the wicked who had fallen into a net.
"I don't think, Walter, his senses are quite right now.
He is crazed with religion'and hate, and I believe at the
time he fancied himself in the meeting-house. Anyhow
there he was, while two sergeants who were supposed to
be in command of the troop were sitting on a table, with
a flagon of wine between them, looking on with amuse-
ment. Their expression changed pretty quickly when
we rushed in.
"It needed all my father's efforts to prevent the whole
party being hung, so furious were all the rescuers at the
outrage upon the good ladies of the castle. But my
father pointed out to them that although such a punish-
ment was well deserved, it would do harm rather than
good to the ladies. They had orders of protection from
the lords-justices; and he should proceed at once, with
four or five witnesses, to lay the matter before the gen-
eral at Dublin and demand the punishment of the offend-
ers. But if the party took the law into their own hands
and meted out the punishment the fellows deserved, the
facts of the case would be lost sight of; there would be a
cry of vengeance for the murder, as it would be called,
of a party of soldiers, and it would serve as an excuse for
harrying the whole district with fire and sword.
"Having at last persuaded the angry tenants and peas-
antry to lay aside their project of vengeance, my father
went to the soldiers, who, tied hand and foot, were ex-
pecting nothing short of death. He ordered all their


ORANGE AND GREEN.
*51
castle, is a great friend of the lords-justices and other
members of the council, and is also acquainted with the
general, which will account for the prompt measures
taken to punish the marauders—a very rare and excep-
tional matter, I can tell you."
"I am sure we are greatly indebted to your father and
you for so promptly taking measures to assist my
mother," Walter said. "I have no doubt the castle
would have been burned as well as plundered if it had
not been for your rescue of them."
"It is not worth thinking about, Walter. We are
heavily your debtors still for the kindness of your father
and yourself to me at Derry, and indeed on all other oc-
casions; besides, it was the least we could do, seeing that
it was my grandfather's hatred of your family which
brought the matter about."
"What became of your grandfather," Walter asked,
"when you interrupted his sermon?"
"He fell down in a fit," John replied; "and perhaps it
was the best thing he could do, for I don't know what
my father and he would have said to each other had it
not been so. He was carried home, and he has not been
the same man since. I don't think the subject was ever
alluded to between my father and him; but I think that,
being balked just at the moment when he thought he
had obtained the object of his hopes and prayers for the
last forty years, has almost broken his heart.
"He goes about the house scarce speaking a word, and
seems to have lost almost all his energy. He has ceased
to read the family prayers and to hold forth morning and
night. I do think he considers that the Lord has cheated
him out of his lawful vengeance. It is awfully sad,
Walter, though it is strange, to see such a travesty of
religion as the tenets of my grandfather and some of the


262
ORANGE AND GREEN.
old men who, like him, represent the views of Crom-
well's soldiers.
"Their religion cannot be called true Christianity. It
is the Judaism of the times when the Jews were among
the most ignorant of peoples. To me it is most shock-
ing, and I would infinitely rather be a Mohammedan
than hold such a faith as theirs. I thank God that my
father and mother have shaken oil such a yoke, and
brought me up according to the teaching of the New
Testament rather than that of the Old."
By this time the wagons, with the exception of those
under John Whitefoot's charge, had been collected in a
mass, and fire had been applied to them. They were
now a pile of flame. A few of the best and fastest-look-
ing of the horses were set aside to be carried off by the
troop. The rest were shot, as the great object of the
raids was to deprive the English army of its. means of
transport. The troop then mounted. Captain Daven-
ant and "Walter took a hearty farewell of John, and in-
trusted him with hastily-written letters for home; and as
the smoke of the burning train would soon bring down
any parties of the enemy who happened to be in the
neighborhood, the troop then rode off at full speed, and
arrived safely at Athlone without meeting with any fur-
ther adventures.
After the fall of the city Ginckle remained inactive
some time, but finding that his proclamation had no
effect in inducing the Irish to lay down their arms he re-
luctantly prepared to advance against them. In the in-
terval he occupied himself in repairing the western wall
of the city, and as he had been joined by several regi-
ments sent out to reinforce him, he resumed his advance
with a force larger than that with which he had com-
menced the siege of Athlone. Before starting he issued
the most peremptory orders against a repetition of the


2bi
ORANGE AND GREEN.
every effort they could to rescue their country from the
oppression of the Prince of Orange and his army of
foreigners.
Ginckle, on his part, as at Athlone, distributed money
among the troops, and promised them the plunder of the
enemy's camp. As the day cleared up the British army
was put in motion, and a strong column advanced against
the enemy's right, where stood the house and grounds of
Urachree, occupied by some Irish horse. A strong de-
tachment of Danish cavalry headed the British column.
They moved forward boldly, quickening their pace as they
approached the Irish; but on the latter charging them at
full gallop they wheeled about and rode off at once in
disorder.
Ginckle immediately ordered two hundred of Cunning-
ham's dragoons, who were considered the best cavalry in
the army, to advance and drive back the Irish horse.
The dragoons advanced at a trot, but seeing that the
Irish quietly awaited their coming they halted behind a
hedge and awaited the arrival of the infantry. When
these came up the cavalry again moved forward. The
Irish horse now fell back on a little hill in their rear,
where a body of infantry were posted. They then faced
to the front and charged and broke the English dragoons,
who retreated as the Danes had done, in confusion.
Eppinger's dragoons were ordered tip to support Cun-
ningham's, but the Irish horse had also received rein-
forcements before they arrived, and after a fierce fight
the two English regiments were routed and driven off
the field. Ginckle rallied them, added Lord Portland's
horse to their numbers, and again sent them against the
Irish. These, however, had fallen back from Urachree,
and had taken up a new position upon the rivulet behind
it, in front of the solid ground by which alone the right
wing of the Irish army could be approached. Here they


ORANGE AND GREEN
255
remained waiting the onset of the British cavalry; but
these, perceiving that the ground was becoming more
and more difficult, soon came to a halt, and then wheel-
ing about fell back upon the infantry.
Seeing the successful stand which was made by a small
body of Irish horse to the advance of the left wing, and
that the spirit with which his troops were behaving was
greatly inferior to that of the Irish, Ginckle called a
council of war. Opinions were greatly at variance. It
was now nearly four o'clock, and it was at first decided
to postpone the battle till the morning, and a messenger
was sent to the baggage column in the rear to bring up
the tents; but other counsels finally prevailed. The
order for the tents was countermanded, and at half-past
four the British infantry were ordered to advance.
They pressed forward in solid masses across the ground
where the cavalry fight had taken place, and the Irish
horse fell back behind their infantry, who were posted
behind the substantial hedges which intersected the
ground beyond the rivulet. A heavy musketry fire was
opened upon the British infantry as they advanced, but
they pressed forward in unbroken order till they reached
the hedges. These were long and obstinately contested.
The Irish had cut openings through the hedges by
which they could retire, and as they fell back from hedge
to hedge the advancing British were received by a fire
from hedges on both flanks as well as from the front.
As the British poured regiment after regiment to the
attack, St. Ruth moved some bodies of horse and foot
from his left to the support of his right wing. This
movement had been foreseen by Ginckle, who now gave
orders for several battalions of infantry to cross the bog
and attack the Irish center.
At this point there was a path across the bog, or rather
a place where the mud and water were not so deep as at


256
ORANGE AND GREEN.
other points, and where it was possible for it to be
forded. Ginckle had found a peasant, who, for a large
sum of money, disclosed the passage. It traversed the
bog at its narrowest point, the hill of Kilcomeden here
running out a shoulder far into it. Four regiments
entered the morass, with orders to cross it and make
their way to the nearest hedges on the sloping ground,
where they were to post themselves till the cavalry, who
were to attempt the passage by Aughrim Castle, could
come round to their Rupport.
The first part of the passage was unopposed, but the
difficulty of passing was great, for the men were fre-
quently up to their waists in mud, too soft to afford any
firm footing, but solid enough to render it extremely
difficult for the feet to be disengaged from it. At
length, as they approached firmer ground, the Irish in-
fantry advanced toward the edge of the bog and received
them with a steady fire.
The English, although suffering heavily, pressed for-
ward without firing a shot, till the ground became solid
under their feet, when the Irish withdrew, and, as upon
the right, took post behind the hedges which everywhere
intersected the slopes. The English, seeing the Irish
retire, pressed forward, and another fierce contest raged
in the inclosures; the Irish, according to their precon-
ceived plan, falling gradually back. The British in their
ardor forgot their orders to halt at the first hedge, and
continued to press forward until the constantly increas-
ing numbers of the enemy recalled to their leaders the
danger of the position.
Before them were the heights of Kilcomeden with a
strong force drawn up to receive them, while on both
flanks the enemy were crowding down to intercept their
retreat. Colonel Earl, who was the senior officer, looked
anxiously toward the right, from which quarter be ex-


258
ORANGE AND GREEN.
While this was passing in the center another division
of Ginckle'fl army, consisting of English and French in-
fantry, had crossed the bog by a passage more to the
right. They also had met with no opposition in passing,
and it was only when they reached the hedges on the
firm ground that the Irish showed themselves, fired, and
retreated. This division, more cautious than that of
Earl, could not be tempted to pursue, but contented
themselves with maintaining their ground under a heavy
fire, awaiting anxiously the arrival of the British horse.
They could see, however, no sign of them, but could
perceive the Irish cavalry descending in large masses pre-
paring to charge, while the infantry were forming for an
advance. So far the Irish had been successful at every
point; they had repulsed every attack made by the Brit-
ish left, had crushed the brigade composed of the flower
of the British infantry which had assaulted the center,
and were now preparing to destroy the division which
stood unsupported on their side of the bog. At this
moment a tumult was heard on the left wing of the Irish,
the direction from which the British division expected
relief, and the Irish, aware of the importance of the pass
of Aughrim, suspended their attack to await the events
there.
St. Ruth had directed the operations of the battle
with as much skill as he had prepared for the assault.
He had taken up his position on a point of the hill
whence he had a complete view of the whole field of
battle, and had moved his troops with calmness and judg-
ment to meet each of the attacks made upon them, and
when he saw the destruction of the English regiment in
the center he exclaimed, in the full confidence of vic-
tory, "Now I will drive the English to the walls of
Dublin!"
There was, indeed, but one hope, on the part of the


266
ORANGE AND GREEN.
how far that treachery extended they abstained from all
action.
Captain Davenant's troop had shared in the disaster
inflicted by the night attack upon the cavalry camp. All
were asleep when the English cavalry burst upon them.
Taken utterly by surprise, and ignorant as to the strength
of the force by which they were attacked, there was no
thought of resistance; officers and men leaped from the
piles of rushes, which served as beds, and rushed to their
horses. The English troopers were cutting and hewing
in all directions, and cutting the picket ropes, each man
sprang on his horse and rode for his life. Captain
Davenant had at first shouted to his men to keep steady;
but his words were lost in the din which prevailed, and
seeing that nothing was to be done, he said to Walter:
"It is all over, Walter; we must ride for it like the
rest."
By morning the Irish cavalry was scattered all over the
country, and it was not for two or three days that they
again assembled in regiments, presenting a sorry sight,
the greater part having lost saddles and accouterments of
every kind. A few troops, composed of men who had
been fortunate enough to have left their horses saddled
when night came on, were sent back to Limerick. The
rest drew off toward Ennis and encamped there until
they could procure saddles and accouterments to take
the field again.
In Captain Davenant's troop there were but six men
who had saved their saddles; and as it would have been
useless to send so small a detachment to Limerick, these
remained with the troop, and were at Walter's request
placed entirely at his disposal in order that with them he
might make scouting expeditions in the enemy's rear.
He had permission to consider himself on detached serv-
ice, and to join any body of Kapparees he might choose;


268
ORANGE AND GRE EN.
mile, cutting off a few stragglers less well mounted than
the rest, and then returned to Kilcowan, where the peas-
ants had just arrived in triumph with the rescued carts
of potatoes.
"What are you going to do?" he asked when the ex-
citement of the welcome accorded by the women to the
captors had subsided a little.. "You may expect a strong
body to be sent out to-morrow to punish you for this."
"It's the general's own proclamation, your honor.
Didn't he say himself that his soldiers were not to stale
anything, and that they would be severely punished if
they did, and didn't he guarantee that we should be paid
for everything? He could not blame us for what we
have done, and he ought to hang the rest of those thiev-
ing villains when they get back to him."
"I wouldn't be too sure about it," Walter said. "He
issued a good many proclamations before, but he has
never kept the terms of one of them. If I were you I
would leave the village—man, woman, and child—for a
few days at any rate, and see how the Dutchman takes it."
But the villagers could not be persuaded that the
Dutch general would disapprove of what they had done,
and Walter finding his arguments of no avail rode off
with his men to the village they had left an hour before,
with the parting advice that if they would not follow his
counsel they should at any rate place watchers that night
on the roads toward Ginckle's camp, to bring them news
of the approach of any body of the enemy's cavalry.
But the villagers were too delighted with their day's
work to pay much heed to Walter's warning, and after a
general jollification in honor of their victory retired to
rest thoughtless of danger. It was getting dark when
Walter reached the village where he had determined to
stay for the night. He ordered the men to keep the
saddles on their horses and to hitch them to the doors of


ORANGE AND GREEN.
209
the cabins where they took up their quarters, in readi-
ness for instant movement. He placed one mounted
sentry at the entrance to the village, and another a quar-
ter of a mile on the road toward Kilcowan. At nine
o'clock he heard the sound of a horse galloping up to the
door, and ran out. It was the sentry at the end of the
village.
'Kilcowan is on fire, sir!"
Walter looked in that direction and saw a broad glare
of light.
"Ride out and bring in the advanced sentry," he said,
"as quick as possible."
He called the other men out and bade them mount;
that done they sat ready to ride off on the return of their
comrades.
"Here they come, sir," one of the men said, "and I
fancy the enemy are after them."
Walter listened intently. He could hear a deep
thundering noise, which was certainly made by the hoofs
of more than two horses.
"Face about, men, trot! Keep your horses well in
hand until the others come up, and then ride for it. Ah,
what is that?"
As he spoke there was a shout from the other end of
the village, followed instantly by the trampling of
horses.
"They have surrounded us!" Walter exclaimed.
"Shoulder to shoulder, lads, and cut your way through.
It's our only chance. Charge!" And placing himself
at the head he set spurs to his horse and dashed at the
approaching enemy.
There was a fierce shock, a horse and rider rolled over
from the impetus of his charge, then he cut right and
left; pistol shots rang out, and his horse fell beneath
him shot through the head, pinning his leg beneath it.


ORANGE AND GREEN.
271
had not the least idea of what was meant, by it; but
Walter stepped forward:
"It is not these men who are to blame, but your sol-
diers, general," he said. "Your own proclamation issued
three days ago guaranteed that no private property
should be interfered with, and that everything the troops
required should be paid for. Your soldiers disobeyed
your orders and plundered these poor people, and they
were just as much justified in defending themselves
against them as any householder is who resists a burglar."
"You dare speak to me!" exclaimed Ginckle. "You
shall share their fate. Every man of you shall be broken
on the wheel."
"General Ginckle," Walter said warmly, "hitherto the
foul excesses of your troops have brought disgrace upon
them rather than you; but if this brutal order is carried
out your name will be held infamous, and you will stand
next only to Cromwell in the curses which Irishmen will
heap upon your memory."
The Dutch general was almost convulsed with passion.
"Take the dogs away," he shouted, "and let the sen-
tence be carried out."
Several English officers were standing near, and these
looked at one another in astonishment and disgust. Two
of them hurried away to fetch some of the superior
officers, and directly these heard of the orders that had
been given they proceeded to Ginckle's tent.
"Can it be true," General Hamilton said, "that you
have ordered some prisoners to be broken on the wheel?"
"I have given those orders," Ginckle said angrily, "and
I will not permit them to be questioned."
"Pardon me," General Hamilton said firmly; "but
they must be questioned. There is no such punishment
as breaking on the wheel known to the English law, and
I and myEnglish comrades protest against such a sen-
tence being carried out." , ,


ORANGE AND GREEN.
275
seized Walter and dragged him toward the tree. Colonel
L'Estrange drew his sword.
"My men," he shouted to some English soldiers who
tvere mingled with the crowd of onlookers, which had
rapidly increased during the dispute, "stand by me and
don't let this brave young officer be murdered."
A score of soldiers pushed through the crowd and
ranged themselves by Colonel L'Estrange. He dashed
forward sword in hand, and in a moment Walter was torn
from the grasp of the soldiers and placed in the center of
his rescuers, who were now joined by General Hamilton
and the other officers.
Several men had run off at full speed to the British
camp to bring up aid. The Hessian colonel called upon
his men to seize the prisoner and cut down all who inter-
fered to prevent the general's orders being carried out.
These hesitated before the resolute aspect of the English,
but the crowd of foreign soldiers ranged themselves with
them, and the attack was about to commence when a
number of English soldiers were seen running, musket in
hand, from their camp.
The Hessian colonel saw that to attempt to carry out
his orders now would bring on something like a pitched
battle, and he therefore waved his men back, saying to
General Hamilton.
"I have nothing to do now, sir, but to report to Gen-
eral Ginckle that I have been prevented by force from
carrying his orders into effect."
"That you will, of course, do," General Hamilton said
coldly. "I shall be perfectly prepared to answer for my
conduct."
There was no good-will between the English and
foreign sections of Ginckle's army, and General Hamil-
ton had some trouble in preventing the soldiers from at-
tacking the Hessians and in inducing them to retire to


ORANGE AND GREEN.
279
ting rid of his prisoner. There are not likely to be any
questions asked or remarks made afterward. I am not
without influence at court, and there is a very strong
section who are bitterly opposed to Dutchmen being
placed in every post in the king's gift, and there would
be no difficulty in getting up such a hostile feeling
against Ginckle in relation to this affair that it would
cost him his command."
"Yes," the general agreed; "Marlborough would be
only too glad to take the matter up, and as Ginckle must
be pretty well aware that his want of success here must
have already made his position precarious, I do not think
he will trouble himself to ask any questions about the
prisoner; and certainly William will not thank him for
being the means by his unjust and arbitrary conduct of
causing a split between the English and his foreign
troops. I should like to put all their heads into one
noose, and I should feel no compunction in setting them
swinging, for a greater set of rascals were never collected
under the sun. I must say that the contrast between our
army and the Irish is very great, and that although many
bloody deeds are performed by the Rapparees there has
never been a single complaint brought against the Irish
troops. Anyhow, Mr. Davenant, I think you cannot do
better than fall in with Colonel L'Estrange's plan.
There will be no difficulty in getting out, and indeed I
will send a troop of cavalry to see you well beyond our
lines."
Walter spent the rest of the day with Colonel
L'Estrange, and told him all that had taken place since
they had last met.
"It is difficult to believe that it is but three years
ago," he said when he had finished.
"No, we judge the flight of time by the incidents we
crowd into it. The most uneventful days pass the most


280 ORANGE AND GREEN.
unheeded. Now to me it seems but yesterday that I
stood on the deck of the ship and knew that she was sure
to go to pieces, and that the chance of any one reaching
that rocky coast alive were small indeed, when I saw
what seemed little more than a black speck approaching,
and you and your fisher boy made your way over the
wave. By the way, how is he? Doing well, I hope?"
"He might have done well if he liked. The present
that you left in my father's hands to buy him a boat
when he was old enough to start as a fisherman on his
own account would have made a man of him, but it is
hidden somewhere in the thatch of his father's cottage.
When my father first went to the war he handed it over
to Larry, as he could not say what might happen before
his return. Larry was at first delighted with the thought
that some day he should have a boat of his own, and a
boat too larger than any on the shore; but when I ac-
companied my father Larry insisted on going with me.
'It will be time enough to buy a boat when the war is
over,' he said; and as I was very glad to have him with
me, and my father did not object, Larry had his way,
and he has been with me ever since. He is enrolled in
the troop now, and when he thinks there is any chance
of fighting he takes his place in the ranks, but at other
times he acts as my servant."
"Tell him I have not forgotten him," Colonel
L'Estrange said. "While you have been doing so much
I have had a quiet time of it. I could have got a regi-
ment at once had I cared for it, but I disliked the
thought of fighting over here, it was too much like civil
war. Six months ago, when things were going badly
with us on the Continent, I asked to be employed, and
was given a regiment they were just raising. I had got
them into fair order and was expecting to be ordered to
embark for the Low Country at any moment, when the


ORANGE AND GREEN.
291
to them in safety. There was an immense deal to tell on
both sides, for it was months since any letter had passed
between them.
"We have everything to be thankful, for," Mrs.
Davenant said when the stories on both sides had been
told, "and it seems to me that it is to no slight extent
due to Walter that we have passed so well through the
last two troubled years. It was Jabez Whitefoot who
first stood our friend, and who saved the castle from be-
ing burned, and his good-will was earned by Walter's
friendship with his son. Then Mr. Conyers stood be-
tween us and the council, who would certainly have con-
fiscated everything had it not been for him. And al-
though he always expressed himself as greatly indebted
to you also, he said that, so far as he understood from
his wife, it was to Walter's foresight and arrangement
that his wife and daughter owed their rescue. How was
it that Walter was so forward in the matter, Fergus?"
"Walter was perhaps more particularly interested in
the matter than I was," Captain Davenant said with a
smile. "His thoughts were running in that direction."
Walter colored up, and Mrs. Davenant, who was look-
ing at him with some surprise at her husband's words,
broke into a laugh.
"You don't mean to say, Walter, that you have been
falling in love at your age?'
"You forget, dear," Captain Davenant said, coming to
Walter's rescue, "that Walter is no longer a boy. Three
years of campaigning have made a man of him, and I
venture to think an earnest and thoughtful one. He is,
it is true, only nineteen, but he has seen as much and
gone through as much as men double his age. He has
upon several occasions evinced an amount of coolness
and judgment in danger which has earned him the


ORANGE AND GREEN.
approbation even of General SarsQeld a man not easily
satisfied."
"I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Walter," Mrs.
Davenant said; "but of course it is difficult for me at
first to realize that while you have been away you have
changed from a boy into a man."
"I don't mind, mother dear," Walter said, "and you
can laugh at me as much as you like."
"And is there anything in what your father says?"
Mrs. Davenant asked, as she passed her hand fondly over
Walter's head as he sat on a low stool beside her.
, "Yes, mother," he answered manfully. "I am en-
gaged to Claire Conyers. I have her mother's consent,
but what Mr. Conyers will think about it I don't know.
He must know long before this, for Mrs. Conyers said
that she should tell him as soon as he joined them in
England."
Mrs. Davenant leaned over and kissed her son.
"The Csnyers are of good family," old Mrs. Davenant
said, "although they did come over with Cromwell. I
do not think that is any objection to a son of our house
marrying into theirs."
Captain Davenant laughed.
"No objection at all on our side/mother. Any objec-
tion is likely to be on the other side, not on the ground
of family, but on that of property. Claire Conyers is
one of the richest heiresses in Ireland, while Walter's
inheritance can scarcely be termed extensive."
Two months later Captain Davenant received a letter
from Mr. Conyers saying that he had arrived with his
wife and daughter at Dublin on the previous day, and
should be glad to make his acquaintance and that of his
son. "My wife," he said, "has informed me of certain
love passages which have taken place between Claire and


ORANGE AND GREEN.
293
your son, and I shall be glad to talk to you concerning
them."
Captain Davenant and Walter at once rode over to
Dublin, the latter full of delight, and yet with a consid-
erable amount of trepidation as to the interview between
his father, and Mr. Oonyers His mind was, however,
speedily put at rest, for upon entering Mr. Oonyers at
once took him by the hand and said:
"I am glad, indeed, of the Opportunity of thanking
you in person for the inestimable service you rendered to
my wife and daughter, I find from my wife that Claire
has discovered a means of repaying you for your service,
and as her happiness is, she tells me, dependent on my
giving my consent to the plan, I tell you at once that I
do so very heartily. I think you had better wait for
awhile, say two or three years, but we need not settle
that at present. Come here, Claire" He placed the
girl's hand in Walter's. "Take her," he said, "and make
her happy."
The next day Mr. Conyers, with his wife and daughter,
accompanied Captain Davenant and Walter back to
Davenant Castle, where they stayed for some days.
The Whitefoots did not long remain neighbors of the
Davenants. Old Zephaniah had passed away ere the
peace was signed, and soon after Captain Davenant re-
turned Jabez called at the castle.
"We are going away," he said. "John has made up his
mind to become a trader in London, and Hannah and I
would be lonely without him, and moreover we are both
weary of our life here, and have far more than enough
money laid by for our needs, and for giving John the
means of entering some well-established firm when the
time shall come. As to the lands here, they are ours now;
but the next turn of the wheel might give them back to
you. Besides we do not wish to be troubled with their


ORANGE AND GREEN.
295
kindness. The friendship between him and Walter
Davenant remained unchanged to the end of their lives.
They occasionally paid each other visits, and when a son
of John Whitefoot married a daughter of Walter Daven-
ant, they felt that this was a fitting termination of the
old feud between the families.
SBB INOh