Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick

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 General 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 goodwill between the English and foreign sections of Ginckle's army, and General Hamilton had some trouble in preventing the soldiers from attacking the Hessians, and in inducing them to retire to their camp. As soon as he arrived there, he ordered the drums to be beaten, and the whole division to get under arms. He then despatched an officer to General Ginckle, narrating the circumstances, and saying that the honour of the whole army was concerned in preventing an officer, fairly taken prisoner in war, and not while acting as a spy, from being injured; and that, indeed, policy as well as honour forbade such a course being taken, as there were several officers of rank in the hands of the Irish, who would naturally retaliate on them the execution of prisoners of war. He made a formal complaint against Colonel Hanau, for refusing to delay the execution until he could lay the matter before the general. As for his own conduct in the matter, he said he was perfectly prepared to defend it before any military court, but that court must be held in England, where he purposed to return at once, with the division his majesty had intrusted to his command.

The Dutch general had, long before he received the letter, been informed of what had taken place, and had also learned that the English division had struck their tents, and were drawn up under arms. To allow them to depart would be to entail certain ruin upon the campaign, and he felt that it was more than probable that the course Hamilton and his officers had taken would be upheld by a military court in England, and that public opinion would condemn the execution of an officer, taken in fair fight. He therefore wrote a letter to General Hamilton, saying that he regretted to find that he had been acting under a misapprehension, for he had understood that the person claiming to be an Irish officer was in fact a spy, and that he had severely reprimanded Colonel Hanau for his refusal to delay the execution until the fact had been explained to him. Far from feeling in any way aggrieved that General Hamilton had interfered to prevent such a mistake from taking place, he felt much obliged to him for what he had done, as the execution of an Irish officer taken in war would, in every way, have been a most unfortunate circumstance.

General Hamilton showed the letter to the colonels of the various regiments in the division, and these agreed that, as General Ginckle was evidently desirous that the matter should go no further, it would be as well to order the tents to be again pitched, and for the troops to resume their ordinary duties.

"My dear Walter," Colonel L'Estrange said, "I am happy, indeed, that we came up when we did. What should I have felt, if I had afterwards learned that you, who had saved my life, had been murdered here, for your execution would have been neither more nor less than murder, as was that of the twelve poor fellows who were taken at Kilcowan–a brutal murder! They were perfectly justified in defending their property, and the idea of quartering them, as well as hanging them, just as if they were traitors of the worst dye, is nothing short of monstrous.

"I only came out here with my regiment a month since, but I am heartily sick with what I see going on. It was terrible to see the ruined villages on the road from Dublin. I have seen fighting on the Continent, but nothing to equal the wholesale brutality with which the war is conducted here. How God can continue to give success, to an army which behaves as this one has done, is altogether beyond me. Of one thing I am resolved, whether we take Limerick or not–and I own I see but small chance of it–I shall exchange, if possible, into a regiment serving in Flanders. If not, I shall resign my commission.

"And now, how is your father? I rode out from Dublin to see your mother, and was very glad to find her, and old Mrs. Davenant, well. I was glad, too, to find that, owing to the influence of Mr. Conyers, they had not been troubled; and I was fortunately able, myself, to bring some influence to bear upon the council, who seem to be bent upon squeezing the last drop of blood from the Irish veins.

"But the men are falling in, and I must put myself at the head of the regiment. I will hand you over to the care of an officer, and, if we march out, you will, of course, go with us."

When the men were again dismissed, Colonel L'Estrange rejoined Walter.

"Ginckle has thought better of it," he said. "I fancied he would not venture to push matters further, for the loss of the one division he can really rely upon would be fatal to all his hope of success to the campaign. Ginckle is a passionate man, but he is not a fool, and he must have seen that, if the matter had been laid before the king, his conduct would not have been approved. I don't say that ours is right, in a military sense, but I am sure that public opinion would have approved of it. The tales that have been circulated, of the doings of the army over here since the commencement of the war, have already roused a very strong feeling of irritation throughout the country."

Colonel L'Estrange now took Walter to General Hamilton's tent, and, after formally introducing him, he told the story of the wreck, and of his rescue by Walter from certain death.

"What do you mean to do with him, L'Estrange?" General Hamilton asked.

"My intention is, unless you see any objection to it, to pass him through the lines this evening. I will provide him with a good horse, and see him well away. After what has happened Ginckle will, I should say, feel obliged for our thus rendering him a service by getting rid of his prisoner. There are not likely to be any questions asked or remarks made afterwards. 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 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 anyone 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 accompanied 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 regiment 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 news came of Ginckle's heavy losses at Athlone and Aughrim, and the orders came for us to proceed to Bristol, and take ship there for Ireland. I half thought of throwing up my commission, for the news of the scandalous conduct of the foreign soldiers had stirred every English heart with disgust and indignation, but I thought that the struggle was nearly over. William was anxious for peace at any price, and would grant almost any terms to secure it; and, on the other hand, we knew that Louis was, at last, going to make a great effort. So that it was certain that either the Irish would make peace on fair terms before winter, or the French would land, and there would be an end of any prospect of conquering Ireland, until matters were settled on the Continent, and William could devote his whole strength to this business."

"And which alternative do you think the most likely?" Walter asked.

"The latter," Colonel L'Estrange said, gravely. "Frankly, Walter, the situation looks bad. There is, so far as I can see, no chance whatever of our taking Limerick, and in a fortnight ten thousand French troops will be landed.

"Of course it is probable that, at the last moment, the Irish may conclude that they prefer to be under England rather than France, for that is what it comes to. I hope they will have the sense to choose England, and if what we hear be true, they can judge from the insolent arrogance of the French officers, when they are but a fraction of your force, what they would be when they regarded themselves as your masters.

"William is ready to grant religious equality, and the security of persons and estates. I think the Irish will be very unwise to refuse. At the same time, they have suffered such villainous treatment, at the hands of William's soldiers, that I cannot blame them if they decide to throw in their lot with France."

"I think," Walter said, "that, if they were but sure that all the promises would be kept, the greater part would be in favour of making peace at once. Nine out of ten of us are of English descent, and have only been driven to take up arms by the cruel oppression which we have suffered. Why, at present five-sixths of the soil of Ireland is in the hands of Protestants, our religion is persecuted, and for years we have been trampled on, and regarded as fair objects of robbery."

"All that you say is true, Walter, and no one can regret it more than I do. Still, I do think that you would be worse off under France than under England. Louis would drain the island of its men to fill his army. He uses you only as a cat's paw in his struggle against England and Holland, and would not hesitate to turn you over to England again, did it at any time suit him to make peace on such terms; or to offer Ireland as an exchange for some piece of territory he coveted, beyond his frontier."

"I know my father is very much of your opinion," Walter said, "and that he has no confidence whatever in the King of France, and considers that French interference is responsible for the want of success which has attended us. At any rate, there is scarcely one of us who does not hate the French, and certainly, if we had to choose between the two countries, we should choose England."

When it became dark, a troop of cavalry mounted, and with Colonel L'Estrange and Walter in their midst, rode out of camp. They went for several miles, and then Colonel L'Estrange said:

"We are now well outside the limit where you will be likely to meet any of our scouting parties. Two miles further along this road, you will come to the village of Mulroon. It has, like all the others, suffered heavily, but there are two or three houses still standing, and when I rode through, it a few days since, I saw an old man standing at the door of one of them, so you will be likely to get information as to the best road to the town, and perhaps a guide."

"Thank you very heartily, Colonel L'Estrange. I know the village, for I rode through it only the day before I was captured, and if I can get no guide, I can make my own way round as soon as it is daylight."

"You had better go on tonight, if you can, Walter. Some party of rascally plunderers might arrive here, or Ginckle may, for aught I know, have sent out parties of dragoons. At any rate, I would not stop here, but make your way on among the hills, even if you can only get a mile away, and have to sleep by the side of your horse. No one can say he is safe under a roof within twenty miles of Ginckle's army."

There was a hearty leave taking between Colonel L'Estrange and Walter, and the latter then rode straight forward, while the troop faced about, and made their way back to camp.

On arriving at the village, Walter, as soon as he succeeded in convincing the inhabitants of a cottage, in which he saw a light, that he was an Irish officer, found no difficulty in obtaining a guide, a boy of fourteen volunteering at once to conduct him to the ford, ten miles above Limerick. It was nearly twenty miles, by the byroads by which they travelled, and the morning was just breaking as they arrived there.

Colonel L'Estrange had insisted on providing Walter with funds, and he was therefore able to reward his guide, who went his way, rejoicing, while Walter crossed the river and rode for the cavalry camp, where he was received with delight by his father and friends, who had believed him to have been killed in the skirmish, for such was the report of the troopers who had managed to make their escape.

"I must not let you go on any more detached commands, Walter," his father said. "I do not say that you have been imprudent, or to blame; but this is the second time that you have been surprised by the enemy, and, as it is out of the question to expect that you can always have the good luck to get out of their hands when you are captured, as you have on the last two occasions, I shall keep you by me in future; for seriously, my boy, your absence has caused me terrible anxiety."

When Walter's account of the barbarous sentence passed upon the peasants, whose only crime was that they had defended their property against marauders acting in defiance of the general's order, was known in camp, the most intense indignation prevailed, and this was heightened by the fact that a cavalry officer, taken in open fight, should have been sentenced to a similar fate. So great, indeed, was the fury of both officers and men, that had they been in any condition to take the field, nothing could have restrained them from mounting and riding, at once, to strike a blow in revenge for the murder and mutilation of the peasants.

Chapter 16: Peace

Ginckle's expedition across the Shannon, and his surprise of the Irish cavalry camp, successful as it had been, altered the position in no way. Several days passed, and then, after a council of war, it was determined to recross the bridge of boats, which remained undisturbed, to the Clare side, and try to force a way across Thomond Bridge. On the 22nd of September, all the cavalry of the army, ten regiments of infantry, and fourteen pieces of cannon made the passage without molestation, and marched towards the bridge, which was defended upon the Clare side by two strong towers. As the British advanced guard of infantry approached the bridge, it was charged by a body of Irish horse, broken, and driven back.

A strong body of cavalry rode up to support the infantry; the Irish horse were reinforced, and a hot fight continued until, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the whole force of British infantry came up, and the Irish retired upon the infantry posted in the works which covered the bridge. Near the gate were high grounds cut up by gravel pits. The Irish infantry were posted here, as well as in the forts; and the English, as they advanced, were assailed with a very heavy fire from these positions, and also from the guns on the town walls.

In spite of the heavy loss they were suffering, the English pressed on with the greatest gallantry. Success was now almost a necessity, for, if defeated, but few of them would ever have been able to recross the river. Foot by foot they fought their way, pressed on past the outworks, and pushed back the Irish infantry, till the latter were gathered round the head of the bridge.

The Irish generals had thought that Ginckle's movement was but a repetition of the previous raid, and the force that had been sent over to guard the head of the bridge was altogether insufficient to withstand the determined attack by Ginckle's force. Reinforcements were now sent across the bridge, but this only added to the confusion. Pressed back by the weight and power of the English attack, the Irish were beginning to retire across the bridge, when they met the reinforcements making their way over.

The bridge was of great length, but extremely narrow, and a complete block took place. The English had pierced their way through the struggling mass at the head of the bridge, and pressed on the rear of the mass of fugitives, literally hewing their way through them, and the pressure became so great that the regiments crossing were carried back. The head of the British column was pushed forward by those behind, and could only advance by slaying those in front of them and throwing their bodies over the bridge; for the mass were wedged so tightly that movement had now become impossible, while the Irish, as they retreated, formed ramparts of the slain and impeded the advance of the enemy.

While the struggle on the bridge was at its fiercest, the French officer who commanded at the drawbridge across the arch nearest to the city, fearing that the British would press in at the rear of the Irish, and that he might not then be able to raise the drawbridge, ordered this to be done at once–thereby cutting off the retreat of the soldiers still on the bridge. These jumped over the parapet into the river, and strove to reach the city wall by swimming. Some did so, but great numbers were drowned. This incident greatly increased the standing feud between the Irish and French, the former declaring that the latter not only never fought themselves, but were ready, at the first alarm, to sacrifice their allies in order to secure their own safety.

The success of Ginckle's second raid had been complete, in so far that he had inflicted great slaughter upon the Irish infantry, and had gained a moral victory; but he was no nearer capturing the town. An attack across the long narrow bridge was not even to be thought of; and he again retired across the river.

The Irish were disheartened. Sarsfield, though a dashing cavalry commander, appeared wholly incapable of handling large bodies of men. Ginckle had twice given him a great opportunity, but on neither occasion had he made the slightest effort to utilize it.