Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick

"To fetch food!" Walter repeated. "Do you mean to say you are thinking of going back again?"

"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? Fighting?"

"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 Rosen 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 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 anything, the women say, would be milk. If I could get a keg that would hold two or three gallons–and a watertight 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 me, 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 make very short work of spies. But if you were to demand 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 constantly lamenting over the sufferings of the people of Derry, and has, all along, been in favour 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 watertight. 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 sentries 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 of the walls. If anyone 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 the errand on which he had come.

"He is a brave lad," Captain Davenant said, "and I honour him for his conduct. It is not many men who, at a time like this, would risk their lives for a number of children who are not any relation to them. Certainly, I will gladly assist him. I am sick at heart at all this. My only consolation 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 assistance, I should say nothing against it. As it is, without doing any good to their cause, they are entailing this horrible suffering upon thousands of women and children.

"By all means, help the poor lad, and if he should fall into the hands of our people, let him mention my name. Rosen would no doubt disapprove of it, but I cannot help that. All the Irish gentlemen in the army would agree that I had done rightly, and, even if they didn't, my own conscience would be quite sufficient for me to act upon. I am fighting against the king's enemies, not warring against women and children.

"How soundly the poor lad sleeps, and how changed he is! He is a mere skeleton. I should not have known him in the least. If this is the condition into which a strong, healthy lad has fallen, what must the women and children have suffered! I wish Kirk had not turned coward, but had landed his troops. We could then have brought up our scattered forces, and could have fought them in a fair field, with something like equal forces. That would have been vastly more to my taste than starving them, like rats in a hole."

Chapter 5: The Relief Of Derry

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 honour you very much, for the courage you have shown in thus risking your life to get food for those starving children. 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 children. 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 Enniskillen, who are as cruel and merciless as the rapparees. 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 undertaken."

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 foine colour as ye used to have."

"I don't think starving would suit you, Larry," Captain Davenant said with a smile.

"Sure an' it wouldn't, yer honour. 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 today. 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 everyone 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, without 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 capital 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.

"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 password, 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 anyone, 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 drifting in the stream."

"Well, goodbye, John, and may you get through without 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 midnight, 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.

"We have missed you so, John. We have wanted you so much. Lucy and Kate and Deby were so bad yesterday, and they did cry so for you. We were all so hungry. 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?"