PRINTED BY
WM. TEMPEST
DUNDALGAN PRESS
DUNDALK
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN
WHEN CROMWELL CAME TO DROGHEDA
ARDNAREE
How THE STEAM ENGINE WORKS
HOW TO BECOME A LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEER
WITH THE QUEEN TO KILLARNEY
A STUDY IN STARLIGHT
of f0e JJacofHfe TEdr in
EDITED FROM THE MEMOIRS OF PHELIM\jyHARA
(1668-1750) A COLONEL IN SARSFIELD'S HORSE
BY
RANDAL MCDONNELL
/ifl< majestic, stately, stainless Cavalier.
W. TEMPEST
DUNDALGAN PRESS
DUNDALK
1920
4025
To my cousin, Kate Maxwell, of Ossining, New York,
Great grand-daughter of Theobald Wolfe Tone.
From Cave-Hill's soaring peak I send you greeting,
The Lough burns blue across the summer air :
Here was the joy of Tone and Russell meeting,
While sad beyond Slieve-gullion' s mist
The grave in old Kildare.
Close lies the city where the sisters parted ;
Look back through time and tears :
Has not their love deep-channelled and uncharted
Held its proud triumph through the hundred years ?
Linked by the ties of letters round me lying,
Linked by their love from whom our kinship came :
By bonds of blood : by memories undying
Of one immortal name.
NEW LARGE EDITION
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
CHAPTER I.
I cross the Shannon to join King James.
YOU have all heard of the O'Haras of
Galway, one of the noblest (if I may
say it) of the old Irish families, and the
one to which I have the honour to belong.
We used formerly to own half Connaught,
but thanks to that ruffian, Cromwell, have
only the estate near Tuam left, and a family
that once lived like kings is now scattered
over the four corners of the world.
That it was partly our own fault I am
willing enough to allow, for we fought and
died and lost our lands in the cause of the
worthless Stuart race ; but when the Restor-
ation came and stirred the great hope within
us, they refused to give us back a single yard
of the old property, and left us with only a
2 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD ,
few old stony fields and scarcely enough
grass~upon them to'satisfy an economic goat.
Later on, when King James came over and
raised his standard at Kinsale, instead of
staying quiet where we were, there was a
general stampede for the Shannon to see who
would be first across to die for our English
king. Take my advice and never believe
what those Protestant orators at College
Green are always shouting about the dis-
loyalty of the Irish race. I can speak at all
events for the Catholic aristocracy, and where
we lead the rest are sure to follow. Of course
we all love Ireland best, but we take good
care to let the world believe it's England we
adore. When I come to die be sure and wrap
my body in the Irish flag, but if it's a public
funeral you're giving me to Dublin put the
English flag across my coffin.
Well, in the year 1689, when the glorious
news was brought to us in Connaught that
King James had landed in Kinsale, I bid my
friends in Tuam good-bye, and my dear
mother stood at the doorstep in tears and
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD. 3
blessed me in Irish as I rode away. God
help us, but we're forgetting the old tongue,
too, and it's ashamed we are of it instead of
being proud. I suppose that's because the
English speak of it as a " barbarous language/'
with their well-known insolence, and we
haven't enough pluck left in us after the
broken treaty at Limerick to try and preserve
our own.
I must confess that I left my native town
with little or no regret, being fairly sick of the
monotony of the place and the jealousy of the
women. For whenever a pretty girl starts
up there all the rest grow madly jealous, and
look upon her as a grievance instead of re-
garding her as a miracle.
To all of them, however, I was always the
centre of admiration, and there were many
tears shed, I believe, on that day when I
crossed the Shannon, and left about a hundred
broken hearts behind me.
As I crossed the river at Athlone on my
stout horse, Ballyglunin (called after that
verdant spot in Galway where the gallant
4 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD.
charger had been reared), and with my father's
sabre, which had seen hot service in the
Cromwellian wars, swinging by my side, I
can tell you that half the town came out to
gaze upon me and gave me a ringing cheer as
I rode on towards Mullingar. All the country
round was up in arms, and the Catholics were
collecting their retainers and arming them
and drilling them for the cause of King James.
I rested that night in Mullingar and next
morning set out for Dublin, passing through
the lovely Lucan country when the sun was
setting. That night I lodged in Kelly's
Tavern, in Dame Street, and next morning
presented myself to the Lord Deputy Tyr-
connell at the Castle (previous to his de-
parture for Cork to meet the King).
I bore a letter of introduction from the
Earl of Clanricarde who had rightly described
me therein as "a gentleman of ancient
family, of untarnished reputation, and of no
mean military accomplishments," referring no
doubt, to the famous raid which I carried
out against the O'Connors in 1686. Upon
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD. 5
that occasion I was accompanied by some
twenty stout fellows from Tierboy, and we
carried off a whole field full of cattle and
killed six herds who objected to our taking
their master's property. I remember that
Shemus O'Connor, the head of that family,
wrote me a very insolent letter afterwards
calling me " a low cattle stealer," and my
stout retainers " the Tuam grenadiers." But
I soon stopped all that kind of thing, I can
tell you, by calling the scoundrel out and
killing him in a duel at Cluanfois, where
young Blake acted as my second, and fainted,
I remember, at the sight of blood.
O'Connor left a wife and six children
behind him for whom I afterwards provided,
as I thought it only honourable and just as
I had ended the existence of the bread-
winner. I had serious thought at the time
of marrying the widow myself only she was
ten years older, had been an O'Flaherty, and
was so ugly that I could never bring myself
to agree to the business and offend against
my sense of the beautiful. For we O'Haras
have been always famous for our good looks,
6 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and I may say that in our family circle I
have been brought up, as it were, in the midst
of beauty. For my three sisters were con-
sidered the loveliest girls in Connaught, and
though they all died unmarried it was not
for the want of the asking. I have known
them to receive no less than twelve proposals
between them at a single Galway dance, and
to have been the cause of six duels in the
morning.
When Tyrconnell had read the letter care-
fully he muttered something about " the
righting O'Haras," and gave me a commission
in Colonel's Sarsfield's regiment of horse,
who was now at Kinsale with the King.
He ordered me, therefore, to leave Dublin
for Cork in the morning, and then introduced
me to a very pleasant fellow called Dudley,
who was an English Jacobite serving as as
captain in Sarsfield's Horse. Then bidding
me good-bye he told Captain Dudley to look
after the wants of the " Connaught stranger/'
That evening the captain showed me over
old Dublin city, now spreading rapidly beyond
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 7
the walls, and expatiated upon the beauty
of the surroundings.
But I warrant you that I soon cut him off
that.
" Some day," said I, " I hope to show you
my estate and the beauty of the town of
Tuam. To bring you through those markets
where hundreds of thousands of cattle are
bought and sold, and then driven into Galway
city to be shipped for the Spanish Peninsula.
For we practically supply with beef," said I,
" the Grandees of Madrid. Some day, please
God, when the cause of King James has
triumphed, we shall stand together, you and
I, upon the Bridge at Tuam, and listen to the
waters roaring underneath. Then gazing on
the vista which lies beyond, we shall saunter
arm in arm along one of the finest promenades
in Europe."*
You can guess that Dublin seemed a bit
small to him after that, and often in later
days during our lonely bivouacks when the
poor fellow was longing for rest and quiet, he
* Colonel O'Hara evidently refers to Shop Street.
8 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD.
would remind me of that promised visit to
to the West, and say that he often saw
" the towers of Tuam " (as I had described
them) in his dreams.
I do not deny that in the description of my
native place I may have slightly exaggerated
the surroundings, but I always consider that a
certain licence is allowable in the description
of scenery or cities to anyone who is gifted
with a poetic imagination.
CHAPTER II.
Moira Delamarque.
IT was on the lyth of March, 1689, that
Captain Dudley and I set out for Cork,
and reached that city some two days
later. All the country that we passed through
was up in arms, and the Rapparees emerging
from their caves and hiding-places were in a
glory of expectation at the coming war.
We little thought as we journeyed through
the lovely southern land that our friendship,
which had begun so auspiciously, would be
one day hopelessly shattered by a woman's
love.
Yes, I confess it with shame ; and indeed
there is never a trouble in this world but one
of them is sure to be at the bottom of it.
We found Cork city seething with excite-
ment on our arrival, and the scene which now
met our eyes was indeed picturesque.
IO MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Patrick Street was crowded from end to
end with troops moving in all directions, and
the brilliant uniforms of the French generals
flashing in the sunshine. There I saw for the
first time the King I had come to fight for
sitting on horseback with all the old Stuart
grace and charm, and surrounded by his
brilliant staff. He looked, indeed, I thought
a leader of men, and so he was ; for during all
that great campaign when we Irish were
shedding our blood like water to save his
crown, he always led us out of action, but he
never led us in. At this time, however, none
of us understood the Royal coward, or realized
his marvellous capabilities for flight.
Another figure near him still fixes itself in
my memory.
Larger in limb and stature, grander in his
bearing that the other generals, and leaning
forward in eager converse with the King, I
caught sight of the stately head of Sarsfield.
His face, I thought, wore a somewhat
melancholy expression, and the eyes, which
gazed at the King from under the great wig
with its flowing curls, seemed sad; but I
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD II
noticed that his mouth with the clear cut
lips was full of splendid resolution. Here
was a man to fight for, and if needs be, to die
for gladly !
That evening, after I had been presented
to Colonel Sarsfield by Captain Dudley, we
both received the honour of an invitation to
a ball at the house of General Delamarque
in Patrick Street.
This gallant soldier had come over on a
visit to Ireland many years before and had
carried back with him an Irish wife the
lovely Kate O'Mahony, of Waterford. He
had now returned again from France as one
of the generals whom King Louis had ordered
to accompany King James on his Irish
expedition, and had brought with him his
beautiful and only daughter, Moira, in order
that she might make acquaintance with the
country which her dead mother had so dearly
loved.
In the midst of the wonderful glare of the
ballroom where thousands of lights mingled
with the brilliantly coloured dresses of the
12 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD.
dancers, I caught sight of the beautiful Moira
moving here and there among the guests,
presenting partners to one another and being
herself presented in turn to the different
strangers who had been invited.
Never had I seen so sweet a vision of
perfect female beauty.
Mademoiselle Delamarque was a little above
the medium height of women with a figure
exquisitely formed, and the smallest hands
and feet imaginable. Her soft brown hair
was coiled in a wave of wonder round her
head in the style then fashionable at the
French Court, while the curve of her beautiful
neck and shoulders set off a huge necklace
of diamonds which vied in sparkling with
her great brown eyes. These seemed to hold
me spellbound, look where I would, and her
sweet smile showed a row of teeth set in
level beauty in the smallest of mouths.
Captain Dudley had already been pre-
sented to her and was asking her permission
to present me, when to my horror the lovely
apparition answered quite clearly in the
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 13
*
prettiest English with a slight French accent,
" If you really like, Captain Dudley, but if
it is one of the O'Haras of Galway, my darling
mother often spoke of them as a set of proud
and insolent fools."
You can imagine how the hot blood flamed
to my cheeks at this to hear such an opinion
given of my own people, who all suffer from
an intense modesty, nearly as much as I do
myself. I say that it was more than I could
bear, but for the sake of that lovely creature
I controlled myself, and some five minutes
afterwards was formally presented by my
friend.
I could never recall that first meeting with
Moira Delamarque without bitter anguish, for
she treated me with such marked coldness,
answering my attempts at conversation in
monosyllables, and finally refused to dance
with me at all.
Oh, with what bitterness I felt this treat-
ment at her hands, and more especially after
the way in which the women of Connaught
had made an idol of me.
14 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Nor was Moira's coldness the only chill I
received that evening, for having been pre-
sented to some other choice specimens of
Cork beauty (and I believe that all Irish girls
south of the Mulla are the loveliest in the
world) I found myself treated in a very
different manner from the fawning admir-
ation of Tuam.
Lovely Alice Mulvaney, who came up with
her father all the way from Skibbereen, told
me in so many words that my conversation
seemed to her to be stupid, heavy, and
arrogant, and when I brought out the story
of my duel with Shemus O'Connor, thinking
to thrill her with my martial exploits, she
muttered something about me being " no
better than a murderer."
Well, you can easily guess the feelings of an
O'Hara after all this. I remember recalling
with mingled feelings of shame and regret the
cruel way I had treated Ellen Kavanagh at a
ball once given in my honour at the Gannon's
house beside the Bridge at Tuam.
She had eyes, I remember, like a ferret,
and wild straggling hair like a housemaid's
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 15
broom, and was madly in love with me in
1684.
Upon that occasion I avoided her the
whole evening and took as my partner the
lovely Sheila Gannon, who danced divinely,
was as light as a feather, and so small you
might have bathed her in a basin.
In the stately minuet which closed the ball
poor Ellen could stand it no longer, and
coming up to me uttered some bitter words
of reproof, and then bursting into tears
threatened to drown herself in* the Tuam
river outside. At this we all nearly died of
laughing, knowing very well that there was
not sufficient water there to have more than
merely damped her.
Well, then, the Cork ball came to an end
at last, and you can imagine that when I
was tramping home with Captain Dudley and
M. Saurin, one of the French officers, to our
temporary quarters on the other side of the
Lee, I found myself in but a sorry mood.
My spirits, however, plucked themselves
up again as the dawn broke over the city,
l6 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and leaning in the direction of my friend,
Dudley, I gave vent to this extraoidinary
prophecy " Though, you say, Mademoiselle
has indeed slighted me, I nevertheless con-
sider her a fit mate for an O'Hara, and when
the war is over I shall lead her 'to the altar."
At which remark of mine the French
officer (whom, I am sorry to say, had ex-
ceeded his proper allowance of wine), leered
at me and said " Ah ! I' insolence de cette
canaille ! '
Many months afterwards Captain Dudley
recalled this sentence to my memory, but,
fortunately for M. Saurin, I had not then
acquired that mastery over the French
language which distinguished me in later
years.
Can you understand what would have
taken place had I been able to grasp the
meaning of that sentence ?
I know that weighed down by the cruel
slights received from Moira, the badness of
the Spanish wine, and the memory of my
past popularity, I felt at that moment like
something terrible !
CHAPTER III.
On the road to Dublin.
A FTER a few hours of troubled sleep I
1\ rose up and prepared myself for the
journey to Dublin, and the King start-
ing punctually at noon we all followed the
great Deliverer, while the people cheered the
gay assemblage as it swept out towards the
northern road.
That journey was indeed, a Royal Progress
from Cork city to the very gates of Dublin,
and the country people thronged the roads
and hedges to get a glimpse of the Royal
presence.
Flowers were strewn along the ground
where the King was to pass over, and bouquets
of wild flowers were presented by the women,
who claimed as a return the honour of
embracing this sublime specimen of man-
hood.
At first the King was willing enough to
kiss the prettiest of them back and there
l8 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
was no lack of beauty, I can tell you, from
Kilkenny to the Liffey but some twenty
miles from Dublin he got properly sick of the
performance and ordered his escort on their
peril to allow anything in the shape of
petticoats within a mile of his royal person.
At this we were all greatly amused, though
there were some of us, I know, who would have
been glad enough to have been paid that
sweet attention. For, although I travelled
only some few yards behind the King, none
of these susceptible beauties took the smallest
notice of me, and this treatment struck me
the more strangely when I remembered how
they used to flock in thousands across Con-
naught at the mere rumour of my presence
at a Galway ball or a Dunmore dance.
Performers on the Irish pipes played
melodious music to which tne villagers
danced in a delirium of joy as the saviour of
our country passed by on his mettled steed.
The country which we travelled through
was blossoming forth in all the glory of its
new spring coat, and though after leaving
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 19
Cork behind us the landscape seemed wild
and rugged, nevertheless from Kilkenny on-
wards we passed over gentle undulating
ground rich in natural verdure.
It seemed to me that all the county of
Kilkenny must have come out to greet his
majesty, as the huge crowds surged around
him with staunch loyalty, profound respect
and tender love, as if he had been some
angel fallen by accident out of heaven.
Orations of welcome were made to him at
the entrance of each considerable town, while
all the young and lovely rural maids danced
before him as he travelled on.
In fact, the whole journey to Dublin was
like a great fair, such crowds poured forth
from their habitations to wait upon him, so
that he must have taken a keen comfort
amidst all his misfortunes at the sight of
so much tenderness and love from his loyal
people of Ireland.
In Dublin itself his reception was even
finer. The streets had been re-laid with
gravel and were strewn with boughs of trees
2 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD .
and the choicest flowers that the eager
multitudes could gather from the gardens
of the citizens or the rich country-places
which lie around. The windows of the wealthy
were ornamented with rich tapestry and
and banners, while from the poorer dwellings
a wreath of flowers or a coloured blanket
proclaimed a hundred thousand welcomes
to the King.
The sweet music of the harp and the shrill
notes of the pipes gave further welcome as
he passed along, and broke into the tune of
" The King shall enjoy his own again/' or
else into one of those plaintive Irish melodies
which stir the heart.
As he reached the Castle gate four bishops
of the Catholic Church met him outside,
bearing a huge cross underneath a canopy,,
and upon seeing this the King fell down upon
his knees and remained for some minutes
in deep devotion.
I was strangely stirred by all these inci-
dents, but more especially by that unfailing
love and faith which made our people bow
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 21
the knee before that long line of Royal
rascals, who had broken faith with them
on every possible occasion, and who cared
as much about them as if they had been
Faroe Islanders or savages from the Barba-
does.
When the King was comfortably settled in
Dublin Castle he summoned a Parliament for
the yth of May, from which we all expected
great results.
We had hoped by supporting his majesty
to obtain the restoration of our estates which
had been in the hands of Protestant usurpers
for more than forty years, and that full
liberty would be given to Irish merchants to
import and export without being compelled
to send their ships to English ports (thus
avoiding the iniquitous dock dues). Studies
of law were to be founded in Dublin and the
Viceroyalty given to members of our faith. A
mint was to be established in Dublin. The
chief State appointments were to be given to
us. The ecclesiastical livings, which had been
taken away, were to be restored ; and, lastly,
22 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
works were to be set on foot to make the
great rivers navigable, to deepen and defend
the ports, and to drain the bogs. I say
" we had hoped " for all these things, but
those three words may be taken as the Irish
motto under Stuart rule burning with love
of faith and love of country and looking
forward with trust to Stuart honour ; only
to be rewarded with bitter disappointments
and better plans on England's part to increase
the racial hatred and the old sectarian strife.
CHAPTER IV.
The death-trap at Chapcluod.
Lord Deputy Tyrconnell had not
1 been idle in the King's cause, and in
the last two months had enlisted close
on 40,000 men, while the King of France
had sent over some 400 officers and gunners
with James to aid him in organising the
Irish army. The Brest Fleet had also been
placed at his disposal with arms and ammun-
ition for 10,000 men, while Louis had
added a further gift from his treasury of
500,000 crowns in gold, which, you may say,
was equal in English money to round
about 112,000.
With the officers came De Rosen, a hot-
tempered Livonian, who was placed in the
chief command, with De Maumont as
lieutenant-general, De Pusigan and Lery as
major-generals, Boisseleau as adjutant-
general, while L'Estrade acted as quarter-
master-general of cavalry.
24 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
On my arrival in Dublin I was stationed
at the Castle with a troop of Sarsfield's Horse,
while Captain Dudley had been ordered with
some of our men to Lucan, where Colonel
Sarsfield was now stopping in his ancestral
home Lucan House with his charming
wife, the Lady Honoria, who was daughter
to the Earl of Clanricarde.
One day in the midst of all the festival
and splendour provoked by the arrival of
the King, an aide-de-camp waited on me
from General De Rosen with orders to carry
dispatches that evening to Colonel Sarsfield,
and to stay at Lucan with Captain Dudley
until further orders.
I was not sorry to leave Dublin, for in the
midst of all the gaiety I had been sadly dis-
appointed in not meeting Moira Delamarque
again, and feared that she must have been
left behind at Cork. Knowing, however,
that Colonel Sarsfield was an old friend of
her father's I hoped, perhaps, to hear some
further news about her from him ; for I
confess that her face had haunted me strangely
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 25
ever since I left the south, and I was burning
with a keep desire to conquer the intense
dislike which she had so plainly manifested
towards me.
It was in a cheerful spirit, therefore, that I
saddled my charger, Bullyglunin, and set out
from Dublin Castle late in thp evening of the
second day in April, little dreaming of the
adventure that I was to pass through before
the sun would rise again.
I crossed to the north side of the Liffey
and took the road which runs out by the
Phoenix Park, and here, rising on my left-
hand side I caught sight of the new Royal
Hospital of Kilmainham, which had been
built from the design of the famous Sir
Christopher Wren, at a cost of some 26,000,
for the reception of ancient, maimed, and
infirm officers and soldiers ; and though
completed some five years before, in 1684,
I could still see some workmen up on ladders
putting a few finishing touches to the edifice.
As I approached Chapelizod the scenery
increased in beauty, and away to the left I
26 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
could catch sweet glimpses of the Liffey,
while here and there along the banks were
pleasantly situated residences. Beyond these
were endless vistas of green fields and rows
of hedges stretching away until lost in the
shadows of the Dublin mountains, whose
long grey hills fill up the background and
keep the traveller company all the way to
Lucan. A little further on I saw a church
spire peep out of the distance, and in another
few minutes I was riding into Chapelizod.
Here crossing the river I reached " The
Travellers' Rest,"* which stands by the river-
side at the corner where the road to Inchicore
meets the road to Lucan, and throwing my
reins to an ostler standing by the door I
entered the building and called for a glass
of ale.
Ah ! would that I had gone on to Lucan
thirsty.
A landlord with a most villainous counten-
ance asked me to step into the parlour while
he supplied my wants.
* On the site now occupied by " The Bridge Inn."
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 27
As I entered the room I caught sight of two
soldiers dressed in the French uniform eagerly
occupied gambling with the dice, and one of
them called upon me good humouredly in
broken English to come and throw a main
with them.
I could seldom, even in the West, resist a
chance to play, so forgetting all about my
mission to Lucan I entered fiercely into the
fascinations of the game.
The landlord now brought in the ale, and
as I quaffed it, stood eyeing me unpleasantly
at the door.
My two agreeable playmates had informed
me that they were French officers who had
come up to Dublin with De Rosen, and we
fell to discussing eagerly the chances of the
war. Since then I have always been more
careful in choosing new acquaintances, for
as it afterwards turned out these gentlemen
were Dutchmen instead of Frenchmen two
of Solmes's Blues, in fact, who had been sent
across from England by General Schomberg
to spy out the land, and to collect useful
28 MY SWORD FOR SARSFlELD
information with regard to King James's
troops.
I have always been famous, however, for
my innocent and trusting disposition, and,
like all Connaughtmen, am very open and
confiding by nature, speaking truth always
for truth's sake, and being unable to under-
stand the meaning of treachery.
The night had considerably advanced,
fresh candles had been brought in, and I was
still rivetted to the table and very loth to
leave. For the truth is that the luck went
all my way that night, and I had relieved my
two friends of every coin they had between
them.
I had risen up to leave the room, thinking
perhaps that one might have too much of a
good thing, when the landlord with the
scurrilous countenance came suddenly in
bearing on a tray a huge meat pie and some
bottles of Spanish wine.
My friends insisted on my stopping to
supper, and just to refresh myself for the
remainder of the journey I consented after
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 2Q
some pressing. The pie, you see, smelt
deliriously, and the wine how well I knew
the brand- was no stranger to me, for I
had drunk many a bottle down in Galway,
shipped straight from the markets of Spain.
We all stood up to allow the landlord to
arrange the table, and had I been more wide
awake I might have noticed that in replacing
my chair at the end of the table (and facing
that smoking meat pie) he seemed careful
about its exact position. Then holding the
back of the chair in one hand he bowed and
called upon me to resume my seat.
Well, we were deep in the contents of the
pie, and I had swallowed a few glasses of
that glorious wine, when our conversation
flew round to the merits of my nation as a
race of soldiers, when one of these fellows
looked at me squarely in the face, and said
insolently
"If all zeeze Irish are as you, captaine,
then zey are chiefly compoze of talk ! "
You can imagine how the blood rushed to
3O MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
my cheeks at this, how my soul flamed at the
words of this foreign scoundrel.
Forgetting that I was his guest, forgetting
how I had cleared him out at play, and
remembering nothing but his gross insult to
my countrymen, I lifted up the meat pie,
stUl smoking (and filled with scalding gravy
at the bottom) and hurled it in the ruffian's
face.
As I did so his companion held up his hand
and made a sign to the landlord, who was
standing with a napkin in his hand and
leaning against the door.
The next thing I can remember was the
napkin being dropped on the ground and the
fellow on his knees working at something in
the wainscotting, and the creaking sound of
a rusty bolt being withdrawn. Then the
whole floor at the back of my chair seemed to
give way, and with a great cry I fell back-
wards head over heels with the chair after
me. I felt a rush of air around me and my
head struck against something hard and cold,
and then after that came blank darkness and
insensibility.
CHAPTER V.
The Escape from Death.
WHEN I recovered consciousness I found
myself lying on the stone floor of a
cellar, and with the back of my head
clotted with blood, where I had come in
contact with the floor.
In the pitch black darkness I could hear the
lapping of the waters of the Liffey as they
flowed past the outer wall of my prison, and
as I raised my right leg to ease my position
I heard with horror the scurrying of rats
away from me.
My aching head, however, was growing
better, and I was soon able to raise myself
and look around. High up on the front wall
facing the river, I caught sight of a little
barred window, and then away beyond that,
at the back of the darkness, a few pale,
imploring stars.
My eyes soon grew more accustomed to
the impenetrable darkness round me, and
32 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
behind me I found the outlines of a small
iron door ; while lying on my back again
and looking upwards I detected a faint
twinkle of light through one of the crevices
round the trap-door through which I had
been hurled.
Suddenly I heard the movement of feet
above me, the screaming of an iron bolt being
withdrawn, and then the trap-door opened
slowly downwards, and in blaze of light from
above I could see through my half closed
eyes the scurrilous countenance of the land-
lord glaring down upon me.
" Ah, he seems done for, sure enough," I
heard the villain say. " And if he isn't," he
added, in his cold, cruel voice, " hunger and
the rats won't keep him waitin' long."
A terrible agony fell upon me as I heard
this.
Were they going to leave me here in the
cold and darkness to die in the agonies of
hunger and thirst, or to be slowly destroyed
perhaps by the vermin creeping out upon me
in thousands.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 33
Then I heard their voices once again, and
one of the foreign soldiers was crying angrily,
" Kill that boaster in vat vey you vill, but
his letterres, his dispatch, must com to me."
Then their voices grew loud in quarrel, and
in the midst of a storm of words the trap-
door was drawn up again and then the
darkness fell upon me and the horrible
silence was broken only by the squeaking of
the rats.
I had lain like one dead while they looked
down upon me, but I now rose slowly to my
feet and staggered against the wall.
Then I felt for my good sword and drew it
slowly from the sheath. If they came down
to take my dispatches, or make sure of my
death, they would probably come by the iron
door, and then at any rate I could die fighting
bravely and not in the slow tortures of an
awful death.
Half an hour must have gone by while I
was leaning against the wall on one side of
the iron door, waiting with the perspiration
breaking out upon me and some drops of
34 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
blood creeping slowly down my neck from
the great, cruel, gaping wound in the back of
my head.
Dear God, would they never come !
Then at last the fearful silence was broken,
and I heard the creaking of a door opening
above, the clink of a man's iron heel against
the stone steps leading down to my prison,
and then the steps descending cautiously-
tap tap tap.
My visitor reached the iron door at last
and stopped, I suppose, to listen, for I heard
the sound of a lantern placed upon the floor
and a few arrows of yellow light shot in
underneath the door and splayed them-
selves across the damp floor of my dungeon.
The silence apparently satisfied him, for I
heard a key grating in the lock, then a pause,
and the great hinges commenced rasping close
to where I was standing with uplifted sword.
Then the door opened slowly for about a
foot and an arm holding a lantern was passed
through, while above it the hideous head of
the landlord peered through the darkness.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 35
The moment for action had now come, and
I remembered afterwards how cool I became
at that moment of deadly peril, for he had
caught sight of me when his cruel eyes had
swung round to the left, and in another
second the door would have been crashed too
again, and my chance of life and freedom
for ever vanished.
But my sword flashed in the yellow light
of the lantern and must have cut clean
through his brain and neck and everything,
for I know that the hot blood spurted on my
face as I dashed against the door and pushed
it open, while the body of the man still
palpitating with life fell heavily against the
steps behind.
I dashed on up the stone steps and reached
the long hall leading to the hall-door, which
I tried to force open, but it was locked and
barred.
I was endeavouring to unfasten it when I
heard a sound behind me and the door of the
parlour was flung open and my two foreign
friends advanced upon me with drawn swords.
36 MY SWORD^FOR SARSFIELD
Fortunately, they both had been drinking
heavily, and came staggering towards me.
I am, as you know, the match of any man
on earth with the sword, but I confess in that
narrow passage it must have gone hard with
me if the two of them had had their senses.
As it was I merely played with the drunken
rascals, letting them drive me slowly back
until I reached the hall-door, when I dis-
armed the man on my right and slipping in
between him and the wall I turned round on
his comrade and cut him down where he stood.
Then I turned and dashed for the open
parlour, slammed the door after me and
double-locked it on the inside.
As I paused to get breath I could hear the
man I had disarmed trying to open the front
door and roaring for help.
I pushed the hair back from my wet fore-
head and went to the window opening on the
Liffey. It was a sheer drop some fifty feet
down into the river and I was heavily clothed
and weighted with my sword ; but I had small
time .for hesitation now, for the villain outside
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 37
had obtained help and some yokels were
smashing in the door with axes and poles.
I was standing on the window and pre-
paring to lower myself down to my full
length before dropping into the river when
the parlour door gave way with a crash and
the foreign soldier burst into the room and
made for me at the window.
I was hanging by my fingers on the ledge
when I saw his sword flash in the air, and as
I dropped into the darkness below, the steel
sparkled on the stone of the window-sill where
my right fingers had been clutching a second
before.
When I rose half-choked from the dark
waters I struck out for the far side of the
river and passing under the bridge reached
it in a few strokes.
Then I clambered up the bank, wet and
triumphant, and catching my sword up
under my arm I disappeared among the trees
which fringe both sides of the river.
CHAPTER VI.
The Dawn of Love.
IRAN on through the darkness by the
bank of the river for about a mile and
then rested myself for a few moments,
and strained my ears to listen for the
sound of a pursuit. But all the world seemed
bathed in silence, and I could scarcely hear
the ripple of the river as it flowed on through
banks of rich foliage in its beautiful winding
pathway towards the sea.
After all, when I considered the matter
quietly it was not probable that the drunken
Dutchman who had slashed at my hand on
the window-sill was in much of a condition
to pursue anyone, and as for the yokels who
assisted him in smashing in the door they
probably forgot about my existence after I
had cleared the river.
I took my time after this reflection and in
another hour I reached Captain Dudley's
headquarters at Lucan, where I told my
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 39
experiences and had my wounded head
washed and bandaged ; then having thrown
off my damp clothes I was soon fast asleep
in a comfortable bed in the officer's house.
Early that same morning Captain Dudley
set out with some men for Chapelizod to root
out any of the vermin that might be left
there, but he found "The Travellers' Rest"
deserted, and the dead bodies removed during
the night. My horse, however, was found
wandering in a field hard by and was brought
back to me.
At noon next day I waited upon Colonel
Sarsfield at Lucan House, presented my dis-
patches, and related my stirring adventures
of the previous night.
They lost nothing, as you can guess, in the
telling, though with my usual modesty I
made as little as possible of my own personal
bravery in the affair.
However, I found it a useless thing trying
to hide my light under a bushel where Sars-
field was concerned, and his eyes lit up as I
described that matchless scene in the hall
40 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
when I practically cut my man in two with
one blow.
" It was gallantly done," he cried. " Oh
the ruffians, the murderers ! "
He was not so enthusiastic, however, about
my deliberate neglect of duty.
" Gambling is a dangerous game," he saidi
" for any young officer, but I cannot reprove
you harshly after such undoubted gallantry.
Duty first, remember, and then caution are
the chief attributes of a soldier on dispatch
work."
After this he presented me to the "Lady
Honoria and told her my story, whereupon
she congratulated me very prettily, and I
must have looked extremely well blushing
as I did at her praise.
Then she went into the garden and left
us to resume our conversation, which turned,
of course, on the coming campaign, and he
related many of his own experiences in
France and England, and described the battle
of Sedgemoor, in 1685.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 4!
An hour must have passed by before the
Lady Honoria returned and asked me to
step out into the garden, " for there is some-
one here," she said, smiling, " whom I think
you have met before."
Puzzled at her words I followed her out on
to the lawn in front of the drawing-room,
and came face to face withMoiraDelamarque !
She looked very lovely in her light summer
dress and huge sunbonnet, but she greeted
me with a coldness which would have
shrivelled up a lesser man.
" I disliked you intensely at Cork," she
said, " and I believe I treated you somewhat
curtly ; but I cannot help admiring even a
blusterer if he happens to be a brave man."
She probably expected that I would feel
hurt at this, but as a matter of fact I never
remember hearing sweeter words. The con-
tinual praises of Connaught girls had only
served to sicken me, for they had been
captivated altogether by my external beauty.
But here was a girl who, though she mistook
my frankness for bluster, could nevertheless
42 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
see right inside me, and from the moment
that she spoke those words I knew that love
was dawning.
The Lady Honoria had retreated to the
house, leaving us two alone upon the lawn,
and I felt like throwing myself at Moira's
feet and telling her how I loved her, when
one glance from her beautiful eyes brought
me suddenly to my senses. Then I waited
for her to speak.
" I will take you round the Colonel's
estate," she said gently, " if the walk will not
prove too much for your poor head," and
she glanced at the bandage which protected
my wounded skull.
Ah, here was what I longed for coming at
last : sympathy as well as admiration.
We passed through the sunshine towards
the river, and Moira pointed out the weir
with its miniature waterfall and charming
background of sylvan scenery. When the
far end of the estate was reached we passed
out to view the Salmon Leap at Leixlip, and
I stood entranced beside the falling waters,
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 43
sparkling and changing colour in the sun ;
while the rushing river sang its magic melody
which goes on for ever through all the chang-
ing years.
In later times during my French campaigns
I have seen pieces of Switzerland that brought
back memories of Lucan Lucan the peaceful,
the serene, the tender !
Those days are dead and gone, and for me
those scenes have faded, but changeless
Nature still pours down her floods of summer
glories. The waters roll majestically on,
and sparkling in the sunlight reflect back
images of crowded trees which throng along
the banks ; but Time, alas ! has hushed for
ever one tender voice which echoed then in
sweet laughter beside the river.
The afternoon had far advanced when we
returned to Lucan House, and, oh, the change
in Moira ! The coldness of the morning had
changed into a happy warmth of friendship
on her part, and when the Lady Honoria
asked me to spend the remainder of the day
with them, my companion urged me to accept
44 MY SWORD FOR SARSFlELD
in language that would have been worthy
of an old familiar friend.
The last incident of that evening I recall
with a peculiar tenderness.
When supper was over and we had gathered
round the fire in the drawing-room (for the
chill of the spring evenings were still upon us)
I remember Colonel Sarsfield asking Moira to
sing us the pretty song which had so charmed
him the night before.
I noticed a slight blush spreading over her
face as she rose to comply and to bring in her
Irish harp. To tell you the truth, I thought
she played her harp but indifferently, but
the sweetness of her voice and the melancholy
beauty of the song bewitched me, as lightly
striking the strings she gave us those plaintive
lines of the Earl of Rochester's, called
" Constancy "
J cannot change as others do,
Though you unjustly scorn,
Since that poor swain that sighs for you,
For you alone was born ;
No ^Phyllis, no, your heart to move
A surer way I'll try
And to revenge my slighted love,
Will still love on, and die.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 45
When, killed with grief, Amintas lies,
And you to mind shall call
The sighs that now unpitied rise,
The tears that vainly fall.
That welcome hour that ends his smart
Will then begin your pain,
For such a faithful tender heart
Can never break in vain.
As the last echo of the song died away I
glanced at Moira and noticed that her great
brown eyes were wet with tears.
It was not until later on that I learnt that
Colonel Sarsfield had already informed her
of some important news which had arrived
with the dispatches, and that in another few
days I would be on the march for London-
derry.
CHAPTER VII.
The Siege of Deny.
NEXT day Captain Dudley and I received
orders to join General Richard Hamil-
ton and the Duke of Berwick on their
march to Derry, while Colonel Sarsfield was
ordered to Sligo. In Dublin all was confusion,
for the two great parties there were spitting
at one another like Kilkenny cats.
The Irish Catholics, who looked upon their
country as a separate nation, wished to make
use of King James for the sake of Ireland,
while the Catholic Anglo-Irish, who looked
upon the country simply as a province of
England, wished to make use of Ireland for
the sake of James.
The first party were fearful of letting the
King go north lest he should cross over to
Scotland ; while the latter feared that if he
stopped in Dublin he might be too much
under the thumb of the Irish Parliament.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 47
Meanwhile Richard Hamilton had routed
the Protestants from Coleraine, and being
joined by General De Rosen had driven them
with the rest of their party in Ulster for
protection within the walls of Derry, which
they were now preparing to bravely defend.
James was obliged, therefore, to decide for
the northern march, and set out with
D'Avaux, the French Ambassador, the Duke
of Berwick, and the rest of his advisers,
leaving Tyrconnell in charge of Dublin.
After a wet and miserable journey north-
wards the King joined with Hamilton and
De Rosen outside the walls of Derry. We
advanced with our colours flying and our
drums beating martial music, but were met
with a roar of defiance from the walls and
with cries of " No Surrender."
A volley was fired in the direction of the
King and killed a member of his staff, where-
upon he precipitately retreated. This was
the only occasion in which I recollect his
facing the music of the guns, and it must be
confessed that it was due more to an accident
48 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
than to valour, for he had been fully con-
vinced that the town would have opened
its gates when he appeared upon the scene.
Later on he sent in a flag of truce with an
offer of a free pardon to all the citizens who
would acknowledge his sovereignty, but it
was contemptuously rejected, and the King,
disgusted and disappointed, returned to
Dublin with De Rosen, leaving De Maumont
to push the siege, with Richard Hamilton as
second in command.
We now set to work with zeal to surround
the walls and to cannonade the city.
Soon our guns opened fire and hurled their
messengers of death and destruction upon
Derry.
I saw the roofs and upper stories of houses
near the wall fall in and crush the unfortunate
inhabitants in the ruins, while fires burst
forth in different parts of the city and com-
pleted the general devastation.
The brave defenders, however, though
somewhat demoralised at this first bombard-
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 49
ment, recovered themselves pretty quickly,
and were soon hurling fire and death at our
lines from the great guns which crowned the
walls.
One gun, opposite that part of the field
where I was standing with Richard Hamilton,
I had particular cause to remember. I
learned afterwards that the defenders had
named it " Roaring Meg/' from the noise its
discharge created. But on this day it did
more than merely roar, for it sent one cannon
ball whizzing past my ear so that I could feel
the wind from it across my face. I saw it
plump into a group of soldiers near De
Maumont, and some six stout fellows went
over like ninepins.
Day after day the bloody contest went on,
both sides losing heavily by the artillery fire,
until the arrival of the 2ist of April, when we
perceived that the defenders were preparing
for a sally.
How well I remember that day.
Beyond the Irish lines lay the devastated
city in the distance surrounded by those grim
50 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
grass-grown walls, while here and there upon
the ramparts were groups of small black
figures working like demons at the guns.
Away on my left, beyond the din and the
confusion, the green fields and the quiet
distant slopes faded towards the horizon ;
while on my right I saw the blue waters of
the Foyle shimmering in the haze of the noon-
day sun.
Suddenly I saw one of the gates burst open
and the besieged poured out into the open.
They were led by the gallant Murray, who
seemed oblivious of death and danger as De
Maumont called upon us to charge, and with
a ringing cheer the Irish line closed in upon
the foe.
Then a terrific contest ensued. The
artillery ceased firing, and after a couple of
volleys of musketry the cold steel took the
place of gunpowder and bullet.
Back we drove the English garrison step
by step to the gates. Men fell round me
upon every side, and I was close to the gallant
De Maumont when a musket ball from the
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 51
ramparts put an end to that adventurous
career.
We were close up to the gates now when I
met their leader, Murray, face to face. His
horse had been killed under him, but he had
disentangled himself from the fallen animal
and came bounding towards me with his
great sword flashing in the air, eager, no doubt,
to cross it with so brave a man. As he
slashed at my head I guarded with my sword,
but the force of the blow beat me to my
knees. I was rising up to return the compli-
ment with interest when the future Bishop
of Derry dashed up and discharged his pistol
point blank at me, and my sword arm dropped
helpless by my side. I drew out my second
pistol with my left hand and was about to
discharge the contents iifto his reverence's
stomach when Murray flung himself upon me
with a roar, and we both rolled over in the
dust. Then a number of hands stretched
out and clutched us, and we were both
dragged, locked in a grip of death, wounded,
torn and bleeding, inside the gates of Derry.
CHAPTER VIII.
In the shade of the gallows.
MY arm, shattered by Walker's bullet,
was dressed and bandaged, and I
was placed in a temporary prison in
a house some hundred yards from the ram-
parts, and facing the gun called " Roaring
Meg " which I mentioned in my last chapter.
Day after day the weary siege continued
with apparently no gain to either side, and
still caged and wounded, with my arm
supported in a sling, I paced the floor of my
prison planning a hundred methods of escape,
and all of them very different, as you shall
hear, from the one which I finally put in
force.
I was attended in prison by a grim, silent
soldier, who upon one occasion condescended
to tell me who he was in an extraordinary
language which I failed at first to understand.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 53
" Me name is Johan Hackutt," said he.
" I was brud on the Bonn, an at skule at
Coalrenn."
When I caught the word " Bonn " I took
him for a German, perhaps, who had come
over from Schomberg's army to assist in the
Protestant cause.
He explained to me, however, that his
mother was a Scotchwoman and that his
father was an English settler who had come
over with Cromwell, and a most religious man.
" Then you were brought up," said I,
bitterly (remembering some of the canting
hypocrites who had settled amongst us even
in Connaught) " in the fear of the Lord."
" Oh, no, mon," said he, " in the feer of th'
Pope," and he turned and left me.
So you see he was not a member of the
German nation after all, but only one of the
English Garrison in Ireland.
May passed slowly away and June arrived,
and Londonderry was still unconquered.
Many sallies and skirmishes had taken
54 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD,
place without much advantage to either side.
At last one desperate assault was made on
an outwork called Windmill Hill, which was
near the southern gate, and a fight of great
gallantry took place with equal valour on
the part of the besiegers and besieged. At
last, after four hundred of our men had
fallen, the retreat was sounded, leaving the
defenders triumphant on the walls.
The pangs of hunger now began to make
themselves felt on the crowded numbers in
the city, and as I, too, was put upon reduced
rations like the rest I began to long once
more for a decent substantial meal.
Every precaution was taken by our men to
complete the blockade, and a huge boom was
built across the mouth of the Foyle about a
mile and a half below the town.
So the days crept by until the igth of
June, when it was decided in Dublin that
De Rosen should be sent up once more to
try and bring the matter to a final issue.
Enraged at the gallant resistance of the
starving garrison the Frenchman determined
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 55
to commit an act of inhuman barbarity and
so force the defenders to come to terms.
Collecting all the non-combatants of the
Protestant religion which he could find in
that vicinity he drove them to the gates of
Derry and determined to keep them there to
starve in sight of their friends in the city.
It was in vain that Richard Hamilton and
the Irish officers implored De Rosen to desist
from his cruel plan, and it was with horror
that I perceived from my prison, at dawn on
the 2nd of July, crowds of harmless old men,
women, and children being driven in under
the walls.
Some few hours after this John Hackett,
my warder, came in to me and told me to
prepare for death, for it was the intention,
he said, of the garrison to hang every prisoner
in their hands unless De Rosen recalled his
infamous order.
Horrified at the cruel fate which lay before
me I asked permission to consult with the
other prisoners and to write and appeal to
De Rosen's humanity.
56 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Leave was immediately granted to me, and
as I passed out along the street to reach the
spot where the other prisoners were confined
I caught sight of some men busily occupied
in erecting a gallows on the ramparts.
We soon drafted a letter of appeal to
General De Rosen, and then I wrote a separate
letter on my own account to my friend,
General Hamilton, which ran as follows :
Deny, 2nd July, 1689.
My dear Hamilton,
I forward this line in trembling haste on
behalf of myself and of our poor prisoners,
beseeching you to use your powerful influence
with De Rosen to abandon this cruel and
infamous scheme.
As I write this I can hear the piteous cries
and sobs of these poor victims at the gates.
I would not mind so much the death they
threaten if I could be hanged beside the Irish
lines so that our gallant fellows could see how
a brave man can meet his doom. But at such
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 57
a distance, dear Hamilton, only my fast move-
ments would be visible.
Are there not enough broken heads from this
disastrous siege without adding to that long
list a hundred broken hearts as well ?
/ am willing to die for our King, and for
the cause, sword in hand and facing the enemy,
but I object to be strung up to the public gaze
like a malefactor on the Derry ramparts, as
an act of atonement for the inhuman deed of
a French barbarian.
Yours, as always,
PHELIM O'HARA.
I felt like one inspired as I penned these
burning words.
It was, indeed, a superb letter, and Richard
Hamilton informed me afterwards that the
reading of it made him practically speechless
with emotion.
I found, however, that he had mis-
interpreted that sentence about " the hundred
broken hearts."
He thought I referred to the relatives of the
prisoners, while I was thinking all the time
58 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
about the girls in Connaught who had loved
me, and more especially about Moira Dela-
marque at Lucan.
Ah, how little, even after a close acquaint-
ance, we can interpret each other's thoughts.
I remember how that night I strode up and
down my prison floor, seeing in fancy the
Lady Honoria breaking the news of my
death to Moira ; and then I found myself
humming plaintively those lines she sang at
Lucan
" That welcome hour that ends his smart
Will then begin your pain,
For such a faithful, tender heart,
Can never break in vain."
Then I stopped suddenly, remembering
that it was my neck, not my heart, which
might be broken in the morning.
CHAPTER IX.
A Dash for Freedom.
NEXT day the joyful news was conveyed
to me that De Rosen had at last yielded,
and I had the satisfaction of seeing the
scaffold removed from the walls before the
evening fell.
Another horror, however, now fell upon
me, the horror of starvation.
Every day the food supplies were dwind-
ling, and still the city held firm in the
determination of never surrendering.
My wounded arm was now completely
recovered, but the rest of me was growing
sick and weak from the long confinement
and the want of sufficient food. I remember
one night late in July when John Hackett
brought me in some stewed dog for supper
that I left the delicacy untasted and paced
up and down with a gnawing agony at my
breast. Then a plan of escape flashed across
6O MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
my brain, and I determined to put it in force
on the following night when supper-time
arrived.
You remember that my prison faced the
ramparts where the big gun, " Roaring Meg,"
was situated, and that some hundred yards
lay between me. and the walls.
I thought if I could only once get outside
that such a distance would be a small thing to
the fastest runner in Connaught, and I noticed
that that part of the wall was sparsely
manned after nightfall.
The risk was very great that I might get a
few bullets inside me if the sentries got the
alarm before I reached the walls, but I had
grown so empty lately as to chance even that
form of nourishment.
At ten o'clock next night John Hackett
came in bearing a fresh delicacy on a plate*
" More dog, John/' I said sadly, coming
closer to him.
" Noan left," he said laconically, " it's a
rut."
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 6l
I was weak, I tell you, and ailing, but
despair made me strong that night.
I stooped down suddenly and gripped him
by the two ankles and pulled them like light-
ning from under him, and he went over with
an oath, the plate with the rat upon it
shooting against the far wall, while his head
struck the floor with a bump that might have
been heard upon the battlements.
Then I closed with him on the floor, and as
he raised his dazed head I gave him my fist
between the eyes and stretched him out again
like a lump of lead.
He lay there quietly, breathing heavily like
a beast in distress, while I drew his sword
out of the scabbard, and stepping out through
the open door shut it again and bolted it
noiselessly.
All outside was as silent as the grave, and
after listening for a few moments I turned
down the passage to my right and found
myself facing the door of the house.
I undid the bolts cautiously, and peered
out into the darkness. -
62 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Far away through the misty night I could
see the flickering lights of the Irish watch-
fires circling round the town, while close at
hand upon the walls I saw where " Roaring
Meg " was resting from her labours, with a
gunner leaning against her carriage and with
one arm round her muzzle.
All along the ramparts I caught sight of
dark figures in sleeping attitudes, while here
and there a sentry stood erect with his eyes
fixed steadfastly upon the distant fires.
Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken
by a tumult which proceeded from the room
which I had just quitted. I heard the door
being violently shaken from the inside, a few
fearful oaths followed, and then the cry of
" Prisoner escaped " " Guard the walls,"
rang out again and again upon the night air.
You have learnt by this, unless I am much
mistaken, that it is in moments of dreadful
danger, when hope seems at its final flicker,
that I am generally seen at my best. It
must be the Connaught blood in me, I think ;
so cool, so collected, so rapid in decision was
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 63
I at this moment when a flash of hesitation
might have changed my fate.
I grasped Hackett's sword more tightly,
swung open the door fully and made a dash
for the open space beside the gun.
Half-way across and a musket flashed
behind me and a bullet wasted itself in space.
I was close to " Roaring Meg" now, but
the sleeping gunner had caught the alarm,
had sprung to his feet, and had drawn his
long sword upon me as I came up on the run.
He made a slash at my neck as I passed,
missed me, and tripped over the end of the
gun carriage, and before he could recover a
back-handed cut from my sabre put an end
to that danger, and " Meg " must have been
served by a new attendant in the morning
when she commenced her thunderings against
the Irish lines.
I dropped my sword and was over the
parapet in a flash, and as I hung over the wall
for a moment another crash of musketry
woke the echoes round me.
I dropped sheer down into the darkness,
struck the ground with my shoulder, and
64 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
rolled over and over in the mud below. Then
I gathered myself together and dashed out
into the black darkness for the Irish lines.
Another volley burst from the walls, and I
thought I had fallen among bees.
I felt my knees weakening, but I was nearly
safe now when a third volley flashed behind
me and I felt a pain like a red hot needle
through my ankle, and I staggered and fell
on the plain.
I heard a hoarse voice call from the battle-
ments " Open the gate and after him," and
I could see the lights flickering on the figures
crowded along the walls.
I tried to rise but could not move my
ankle, and had given myself up for lost,
staring stupidly at the dark mass of men,
when the sound of a horse on the gallop broke
upon my ears.
Something whirled past in the darkness,
then stopped and came back towards me, and
I saw the figure of a man leading a horse by
the bridle and bending over my body.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 65
He lifted me up like a child and swung me
across the saddle. He mounted behind me
and put one arm round my waist.
" Hold on like death," he shouted, " it's
our last chance."
Yes, it was the last chance.
The men of Derry were now within twenty
yards, racing towards us with drawn sabres,
and dividing so as to surround us. With a
shout of defiance the strange horseman struck
the noble animal with the spur and sprang
with his burden towards the blockading lines,
towards the flickering watch-fires towards
freedom !
As we burst over the Irish lines men
crowded round us eagerly, and cheer after
cheer echoed across the plain ; while the last
thing that I remember as I fainted in the
arms of my preserver was the foreign accent
of De Rosen clear and hard upon my ear
" Well done, Sir Richard Hamilton."
CHAPTER X.
A Triumph and a Retreat.
YES, our gallant General had saved me,
and only in the very nick of time.
He had been reconnoitring the ^walls
with a view to another assault when he heard
the shouts and the musketry, and had seen
me drop over the parapet.
I was, therefore, deeply in his debt now,
for his successful pleading with De Rosen
about the prisoners had also been the means of
saving me from certain death.
My ankle was not badly injured, the bullet
having passed outside the bone, but my body
was emaciated from the starvation I had
suffered, and it took me some weeks to
recover my former vigour.
Meanwhile the terrible siege went on until
the close of July, when some English ships
loaded with provisions broke the boom across
the river and sailed in triumph up to the
beleaguered town.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 67
That night bonfires shone from the entire
circuit of the walls, and our guns, which had
been pouring a death hail into the devoted
city, suddenly ceased their fire.
The game was over at last and Londonderry
had triumphed.
On the first of August we received orders
from Dublin to retreat, and soon the plain
was covered with our marching masses of
men with their pikes and banners glistening
in the sun, and then gradually dwindling
from view as we retreated up the left bank
of the river towards Strabane.
Thus ended the siege of Derry, one of the
bravest defences in the annals of war.
It was not so much a triumph over our
cannon (which were few and not very power-
ful for modern siege work) or our commanders
(who were incompetent) as a triumph over
the forces of disease, starvation, and despair.
Since Sarsfield was away in Sligo, I have
often wondered how different might have
been the result of those operations if King
68 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
James had had the courage to dismiss De
Rosen and to have offered the chief command
to the one man there who possessed a natural
instinct for the art of war.
I had, indeed, at one period contemplated
offering my services in this way to his
majesty, but abandoned the idea afterwards
when I realized the bitter pain that must have
been inflicted on the chivalrous but suscep-
tible Sir Richard Hamilton.
CHAPTER XI.
/ face Death at Enniskillen.
WHEN the Irish army had retreated
from Derry Captain Dudley and I
received orders to rejoin General
Sarsfield, who was now holding the chief
command in Connaught.
We had been stationed for some weeks at
Sligo when Sarsfield sent me an urgent
message by his aide-de-camp to call upon
him at headquarters.
When I entered his room he received me
with a very hearty welcome,
" I am glad to see you, Colonel O'Hara,"
he said, laying emphasis on the word
" Colonel."
I blushed like a girl, and little wonder, for
the truth is that my gallantry outside Derry
and my dashing escape from prison had
reached the King's ears through Richard
Hamilton, and I had been promoted to a
70 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Colonelcy in Sarsfield's Horse. For to give
King James his due, though he was not a
brave man himself, he knew how to appreciate
bravery in others.
" I have sent for you," Sarsfield went on,
" because I have need of a resolute man in
what may prove a dangerous adventure."
My ears cocked up at this, I can tell you,
for what would a soldier's life be worth with-
out the risk of danger, the chance of glory.
" You have heard," he continued, " of the
desperate affair at Newtown-Butler when the
Enniskilleners routed our troops and then
slaughtered the fugitives to a man. Well,
our leader in that fight, M'Carthy (now Lord
Mountcashel) was wounded, not killed, as at
first believed, and has lain for some time a
prisoner in Maguire's Castle at Enniskillen.
I have received news this morning that his
gaoler has been bribed, but cannot get him
out through the gates of the town without
arousing suspicion. It has been agreed,
therefore, that a coil of rope shall be conveyed
to his cell, and a small boat hidden in the
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 7!
rushes on the bank of the river opposite the
castle. Mount cashel is to climb out of the
window and drop down by means of the rope
at midnight next Saturday.
' You must be there at that hour, and
when a light is given as a signal from his
window, row across to the opposite bank
and bring him off in safety. The river runs
strongly at this point, so you must be careful.
Are you willing to undertake all this ? "
" I ask for nothing better," I replied,
"than to be the means of freeing a brave
man, and a mission for you, General, is a
thing that lies very close to my heart."
He smiled, and then dismissed me, having
told me to set out early in the morning to
ensure my arrival at Enniskillen before night
set in.
Saturday morning broke fine and clear as
I saddled Ballyglunin and rode out of Sligo
town in the direction of Lough Erne.
At mid-day I passed through Manorhamil-
ton, and as the evening shadows were length-
ening round Enniskillen I tethered Ballyglunin
72 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
to a tree on the far side of Portora Hill, where
he could munch the long sweet grass, while I
waited with impatience for the appointed
hour to come.
The night was by no means an ideal one for
my adventure. It was cloudy enough, but,
unfortunately, a bright moon crept across the
sky and breaking at intervals out of the dark
banks which shrouded her beauty would
light up the scene like day.
As the hour at last approached I left Bally-
glunin at Portora and advanced with caution
towards the river.
I found the boat there right enough, a mere
skiff, however, that would barely hold two.
I saw the grim walls of Maguire's Castle
rise in front of me and throw a shadow across
the moonlight on the river. Then as the bell
from the church upon the hill tolled the
midnight hour I saw a light gleam from a
window in the tower and at the same moment
I saw a man's arm pointing towards the sky.
I caught the meaning in a flash, and knew
that he wished to wait until the moon was
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 73
banked again, so I crouched down among the
reeds watching the silver traveller in the
sky, and listening to the beating of my heart
At last the moment came.
The moon dimmed suddenly and was
gradually swallowed up in a dark bank of
cloud, and at the same moment I saw the
signal gleam a second time from the window
as I pushed the skiff from the shore.
The Erne was at the flood and flowing
rapidly, and as Sarsfield had told me the
river was particularly strong at this point ;
but a man who can handle a pair of oars
like me would only laugh at the puny efforts
which were made to change my course.
I was soon across the river and had tied
the skiff to the bank when I heard a noise
above 'me.
Looking upwards I saw a long thin rope
creeping slowly down the tower like a snake,
and whipping against the stonework as it fell.
Then from the window above I saw the
dark outlines of a man's body squeezing
74 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
itself slowly through, and Lord Mountcashel
let himself slip safely to the earth.
He crept to the edge of the river where I
was crouching and grasped me by the hand.
" There is not a moment to be wasted, my
lord," I whispered, " the moon may be out
upon us at any moment."
We clambered into the skiff and pushed off,
each taking an oar, and then the first piece of
bad luck began.
We were pulling steadily across the current
for the opposite bank when my lord, through
nervousness, or God knows what, made a
foul stroke and pitched over on his back,
while the skiff swung round with the current
and headed down the stream.
This was bad enough in its way, but could
soon have been rectified in a few strokes, but
as luck would have it Mountcashel had let the
oar slip from his grasp and the river had
whirled it out of his reach in a moment.
Cursing our bad fortune and my lord's
ignorance with his oar, I stood up in the skiff
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 75
and tried to paddle her with the single blade,
but all my efforts seemed fruitless, for the
current held us in its power and bore the boat
swiftly along towards the centre of the
channel.
Then I saw the water round us beginning
to shimmer faintly, and in a few moments the
moon was turning the darkness into day.
I remember a sentry on the walls shouting
something at us, and a musket flashed from
the battlements of the tower.
Then the alarm was given and the sleeping
town awoke, and lights began to flash along
the walls.
We had come abreast of the big gun which
faces Portora when I heard a voice calling
clear through the midnight air :
" Quick, boys, quick, and let Ned Spinner
try his hand."
Mountcashel turned to me with a face that
looked white in the moonlight.
' The man who managed ' Meg ' at Derry,"
he whispered hoarsely, " the best artilleryman
in Ulster."
76 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
I damned Ned Spinner, and worked my
paddle furiously.
Suddenly from the walls the great gun
began to speak. There was a puff of white
smoke, a flash, a roar, and a cannon ball
whizzed over our heads, while Mountcashel's
lips moved involuntarily in prayer.
" Cheer up, my lord," said I, " I believe we
are closing to the bank and will cheat them
yet."
" Spinner is only getting his eye in," says
my lord, mournfully.
A second time the gun spoke and a ball
plopped into the water within a yard of us
and the spray of the splash broke across my
face.
The current was now carrying us fast
away, and hope was growing stronger in my
breast, when my cheerful companion spoke
again.
' The third time may be the charm," says
he, in his cursed melancholy voice.
Well, sure enough, he was not far wrong,
but it must have been on the battlements
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 77
that the charm was chiefly felt, for Ned
Spinner had got his eye in this time with a
vengeance.
The shot struck the skiff full across the
stern and knocked her simply into little bits.
I remember being shot up into the air like
a rocket and then falling down, down into the
black waters of the Erne, and then coming
up again to the surface gasping, struggling,
and blowing like a hippopotamus.
Mountcashel had fared better than me, for
he had been lightly clad, while I had been
drawn down by the weight of my heavy
uniform, sword and pistols.
When I had recovered myself and was
striking out for the bank I saw that he was
swimming powerfully in that direction, and
so I had nothing but my own concerns to
look after now.
Owing to the weight I carried, my power-
ful swimming was not bearing me in towards
the Portora bank as rapidly as I could have
wished, and I had eased up for a moment to
glance around when a horrible shout broke
78 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
out in front of me, and I saw that they had
launched a boat from the near corner of the
town to cut me off before I could land.
On I swam furiously, every moment bring-
ing me closer to the bank, while I could see
the nose of the boat in the moonlight creeping
nearer and nearer.
The shouting was coming closer, the bank
was coming closer, and I struggled on, on.
I saw a fellow in the bow of the boat stand
up and raise his musket at me, but someone
shouting out that I was to be taken alive, he
lowered the gun, probably taking me for
Mountcashel.
I doubt if there was twenty yards between
us when I clutched the bank and swung
myself up out of the water.
Even then my doom must have been sealed
had there been deep water where the boat
was dashing in, but luck was with me at the
last, for her keel got stuck in the shallows
some five yards from the shore, and it was
that alone which saved me.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 79
As I rose to my feet and made a dash for
the open country the fellow in the bow had
a crack at me with his musket, but missed me
badly for so close a range.
I broke away into the darkness in the
direction of Portora Hill, and in a few moments
I could hear them shouting and pounding
through the thicket after me.
So the hounds were after the poor hare.
Well, not a hare but an O'Hara, and you
know how I can run !
The pace was, indeed, wonderful in spite of
my clothes heavy with wet, and my boots
squashing out water at every stride. Indeed,
had it been daylight they might have tracked
me by the dampness of my trail.
I had left my pursuers far behind, and
broke at last into the glade where I had
tethered my horse. I looked round in dismay.
Bally'glunin was gone !
I turned in the darkness of the trees and
fled up to the top of Portora Hill, where I
clambered up into the branches of an
8o MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
enormous tree which crowns the summit.
I was so utterly exhausted that I could
proceed no further, and would probably be
safe enough here until the morning.
From my position on the tree I could hear
the sounds of my baffled pursuers far away
on the right, and when I had sufficiently
rested myself I pushed aside the branches of
my hiding place and looked out.
A scene of matchless beauty stretched
around me. The island-town below lay
bathed in the glorious moonlight, and I
could see the church spire glistening like a
spear as it rose up from the centre of the walls.
Lights were moving here and there in every
quarter, and the alarm bell was still being
rung at intervals. A signal gun boomed
suddenly from the battlements, doubtless to
recall the pursuers from the chase, and I saw
the white smoke standing like a piece of wool
out of the embrasure and then melting into
nothingness in the summer air.
The protecting waters of the Erne that lay
around the restless town mirrored back the
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 8 1
moonlight with a shimmering splendour, while
the gently undulating ground that faded in
the background was crowned with the glory
of a perfect summer's night.
The last thing that I noticed before I sank
to slumber in my precarious resting-place
was the round tower on Devenish rising up
like a giant through the trees; its cone-
shaped summit showing clear against the
sky, with the four grim stone faces that keep
staring for ever towards the four corners of
the world.
CHAPTER XII.
/ complete my mission.
I could never tell how long I slept in that
Portora tree-top, but when I awoke the
dawn had already broken . over Ennis-
kUlen and was flooding the east with a glow
of crimson glory, while the happy birds
around me were pouring forth their welcome
to the newly-awakened day.
I had stretched out both my arms and was
about to yawn when a movement underneath
the tree attracted my attention, and looking
down between the branches I became so
paralyzed with astonishment that I could
not have moved a muscle for the crown of
France.
In the open glade that lay beyond the tree
some half-dozen sturdy Enniskilleners were
lying wrapt in slumber, while a sentry at the
end of the glade some fifty yards away kept
marching to and fro with his musket on his
shoulder.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 83
The real surprise, however, was the figure
of Lord Mountcashel bound with ropes to the
trunk of my tree, while my darling Bally-
glunin was tethered some few paces away.
When I had sufficiently recovered from
that astonishment I considered the situation
and resolved on immediate action.
.
Leaning carefully out between the branches
I whispered Mountcashel's name.
He looked up, startled, and then a smile
broke across his face.
" Don't speak or move," I continued, " I
can cut your bonds from here with the point
of my sword. When you are free wait until
the sentry turns and mount behind me on
the horse, and then may God speed us on
towards liberty."
He nodded his head to show he understood,
and the next moment I had drawn my sword
and stretching down along the trunk I sawed
at the ropes which bound him.
When I had properly freed him I glided
down the tree, and waiting until our sentry
84 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
was on his outward march I stole over to
Ballyglunin with Mount cashel after me.
As I sprang into the saddle with my
comrade after me the horse gave a whinny of
affectionate greeting which awoke one of the
sleeping Enniskilleners, who sprang to his
feet with a yell.
I drew my sword, plunged my spurs into
Ballyglunin, and dashed for the open glade.
The sentry in front of us had turned at the
alarm and fired his musket at me, the bullet
striking the saddle with a thud and glancing
harmlessly off. Then he clubbed his musket
and tried to brain me as I passed. I caught
the falling stock upon my sword and shattered
it to pieces, and as the man staggered from
the blow Mountcashel leaned over from behind
me and struck him full in the forehead with
the butt of an empty pistol, knocking him
senseless to the earth.
The way was now free unless Ballyglunin
fell. But the noble animal served us well
that day and tore down the hill at the full
gallop, while a few useless musket shots were
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 85
expended upon us by the infantry behind.
On reaching the road below I turned in the
saddle and looked backwards. The sturdy
Enniskilleners descendants probably of
those men who forty years before had helped
to ravish Ireland with fire and sword were
crowning the hill-top and staring after us in
stupid wonder. Taking the northern road
we galloped on through the lovely summer
morning until Enniskillen lay many miles
behind us. Then we turned westwards and
reached Manorhamilton late that afternoon.
On the journey there Mountcashel had told
me his adventures.
After being immersed in the river he had
struck out boldly for the bank, and being
lightly clad and a fine swimmer he had soon
landed safely. Then running inland towards
Portora he had entered the glade where
Ballyglunin was standing tethered, and had
appropriated the horse. Finally, when well
on his journey northwards, he had trotted
straight into the middle of a group of infan-
try who had been out reconnoitring from
86 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Enniskillen. These men had captured him and
brought him back to Portora, when they had
encamped in the early morning when they
first met my astonished gaze.
I made no comment on his story or his
stealing of my horse, which struck me as a
proceeding of unsurpassable coolness.
That afternoon we separated at Manor-
hamilton, my lord going south and finally
embarking for France, while I continued my
journey to Sligo and to Sarsfield.
I came into the General's room all stained
with toil and travel, and I told him in a few
words my strange, eventful story.
When he had finished he came proudly
towards me and laid his hand upon my
shoulder.
" It was nobly done, O'Hara, and I thank
you from my heart/' he said.
' Yours are the attributes we want so
badly now to be brave, to be hopeful, to be
self-reliant. Had we more men of that stamp
in this poor land to-day, we Irish might become
a nation and not a race of slaves."
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 87
Then he took my hand and clasped it in
his own, and I saw the old proud look upon
his face that only came when some great
action had stirred the very fibres of his heart.
I only saw him look like that on two
occasions after, during our all too brief
acquaintance.
Once on that night when he took the guns
at Ballyneety, and afterwards when I saw
him standing like a conqueror, amid the
smoking -ruins, on the day when he drove the
Dutch usurper back from the shattered walls
of Limerick.
CHAPTER XIII.
Happy Days at Lucan.
success of the Ulster Protestants
1 necessitated the evacuation of Con-
naught, and early in autumn General
Sarsfield retreated to Dublin until King James
and his shifty advisers had decided the move-
ments of the next campaign.
To my delight, as you can imagine, I was
again sent with Captain Dudley to Lucan
to act as a bodyguard to General Sarsfield.
The hardships I had endured in the last
campaign were fully atoned for now by the
happy days which followed with Moira Dela-
marque at Lucan. There were endless balls,
too, in Dublin and the great houses round
about, while better still I had the simple
country pleasures of Lucan House.
The Lady Honoria took every opportunity
of bringing Moira and me together, and the
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 89
tender friendship (if I may use no other
name) was increasing day by day.
During one visit, when I was lamenting my
sad ignorance of the French language, she
volunteered very prettily to become my
schoolmistress.
I need hardly tell you how gladly I acqui-
esced in that arrangement, but on the con-
ditions that I should be allowed in return to
instruct her in the Irish tongue.
To this she made no objection, but un-
fortunately finding after a few lessons that
all the Irish words I taught her were words
of endearment, she declared with a blush that
she must ask me to desist from any further
instruction.
The only thing that marred those happy
days was the jealousy of my old friend,
Captain Dudley, whose constant attentions
annoyed Moira greatly, and at times, indeed,
my comrade of many lonely bivouacs became
a perfect nightmare to my little friend.
He used every means to entrap her
affections. He used every opportunity of
QO MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
constantly meeting her, and would get into
the grounds of Lucan House on the plea of
fishing in the Liffey. I have seen the great
fool standing for hours on the bank trying
his hand at trout, he said, but I had only
too good reason to know that he was dangling
for another sort of fish.
I shall never forget how pained I felt one
evening at a party which the Lady Honoria
had given in Moira's honour.
We were playing a childish game called
forfeits after dinner.
When a gentleman had to redeem he was
obliged to take a candle from the candlestick
and place it in the hands of the lady whom he
loved best, whereupon the lady in question
had to give him a kiss, or what was con-
sidered more correct, hold out her hand to
be kissed instead.
Towards the conclusion of the game Captain
Dudley had to redeem, and he went over
(with great insolence, I thought) and placed
the candle in Moira's hand. Whereupon, to
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD QI
my horror, my little friend put both her hands
behind her back and gave him a look that
meant ' You may if you dare " which
showed plainly that she understood the trick.
He then stooped down and kissed her, although
no gentleman would have dared to have taken
so underhand an advantage.
Another unpleasant incident took place at
the ball given at Luttrelstown House which
lives particularly in my memory. All the
great families round Dublin were there, for
even the Protestants who were adherents
of William of Orange could not resist the
fascinations of a dance. So they took, out
their ball-dresses and locked their principles
in the wardrobe, as one beautiful girl told me
whose father objected to her coming but whose
mother suffered from the dancing craze.
Moira Delamarque was, of course, present
with the Sarsfields, and her's was perhaps
the most beautiful of all the lovely faces
that caught the eye in every quarter of the
vast ballroom.
I was her partner in most of the dances,
92 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
although I noticed with secret disappointment
that she honoured Captain Dudley far more
than I cared for.
He made himself disagreeable, too, on more
than one occasion.
I remember during the whirl of one dance
a hook in the breast of my uniform caught
in the lace of Moira's dress so that we were
linked together in the most awkward fashion.
While I was trying to disentangle myself
Captain Dudley came behind us and whispered
" Ominous " in the most insolent tone. I
thought I could have called him out and
killed him.
Next day at Lucan House I thought Moira
treated me with even more tenderness than
usual.
She was watering her garden in the evening
when I came in (for she had a kind of passion
for flowers) and asked me to help her to trans-
plant a little rose tree to another part of the
garden. I did so, and became, I think, rather
sentimental, asking her to remember that it
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 93
had been planted by me and to think of me
always whenever she watered it.
" I have sweeter memories of you than
that," she answered tenderly, and looked such
a perfect picture holding the watering pot in
her hand that I think I must have fallen on
my knees and confessed my love, only the
war was not yet over, and I thought it a
cowardly thing to bind a young girl to a
man who might be a corpse in the next
action. For considering that I am generally
in the forefront of a battle this fate was by
no means improbable.
The little rose tree (practically a memento
of our love) was the cause of trouble after-
wards. For walking with Captain Dudley
next day Moira told him about it in the full
innocence of her heart, whereupon my fine
gentleman uttered an oath, pulled the rose
tree up by the roots and flung it into the
Liffey.
That night I sent an officer to him with my
card, and next morning at daybreak we
fought a duel by the banks of the river. After
94 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
half a dozen strokes I disarmed him and had
him at my mercy.
Sheathing my sword with contempt I
turned to him and said, " I would not care for
Mademoiselle Delamarque to think that I
had spilled blood in her name." Then I
turned and strode from the field, leaving him
alone in his shame.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Duke of Schomberg moves.
BUT fortunately perhaps for myself I had
but little time left to fret over a rose
tree or a game of forfeits, for a greater
game was beginning far beyond the walls of
Lucan House, and the stake that two men
were playing for was the crown of England.
Our army had been recruited again after
i^ie disastrous campaign which had just
closed, but only the cavalry under Hamilton,
Sarsfield and Galmoy were properly equipped
and drilled. The infantry were badly clothed,
many of them possessed no weapons of any
kind, while they were totally devoid of any
military discipline.
Eager and faithful they were in our cause,
but something more than this was required
in men who would be obliged to face some
of the finest infantry in Europe.
96 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Tyrconnell worked bravely to bring in
recruits, and thousands of half-starved
Rapparees flocked to King James's standard,
nor did the richer classes hold back in this
hour of trial. Their country crushed in
slavery by the Cromwellian hordes and their
creed insulted and despised, appealed to all
the best instincts in the subject race. From
north and south, from east and west, they
poured into Dublin eagerly clamouring for
arms and equipment that they might be led
against the foe. But the call was in many
cases unanswered, for the supply of arms
was utterly insufficient, and as for equipment,
King James had so little money left in his
treasury that he was now occupied in the
melting of cannon into coin.
On the I2th of August, 1689, the Duke of
Schomberg sailed from England with some
20,000 men and entered Belfast Lough on
the following day. He proceeded to attack
Carrickfergus, which was held for King James
by MacCarthy Mor, who capitulated after a
week's siege, and the garrison was allowed
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 97
to march out with drums beating and banners
waving to join the Duke of Berwick, who
was stationed at Newry.
In spite of the capitulation they had a
narrow shave of being massacred by the
Protestants in that district, and the gallant
old veteran, Schomberg (who was now close
upon eighty years of age) was forced to ride
up and down with a pistol in his hand threat-
ening to shoot anyone who should offer
them molestation.
Schomberg now advanced to Loughbrick-
land where he was joined by the Ennis-
killeners, who helped to swell his already
formidable army.
Passing through Carlingford he reached
Newry, which had been held by Berwick,
who had burned the works and retreated on
Drogheda. Here King James had unfurled
his standard to the breeze only to rapidly
fold it up again later on.
Schomberg now entrenched himself at
Dundalk and occupied himself in disciplining
his men and increasing the strength of his
98 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
camp, while he made use of the Enniskilleners
as skirmishers.
As the autumn season advanced the rains
flooded his camp and turned it into a marsh.
Soon a plague burst out among his troops
and he lost close upon 3,000 men. We heard
they had so many dead that they used
corpses as tables to dice upon, but as to this
I do not know, but we saw their ships going
daily to Carlingford with the sick.
The plague also attacked the King's troops,
and after some delay they retired at his
command to Dublin, having effected no
movement of any value.
During all this time I was stationed at
Dublin with my hands full enough of work,
receiving fresh recruits, and having them
drilled and properly equipped.
So the old year passed away and 1690 came
in at last, but brought no change in the
position of the rival armies in Ireland.
In March Schomberg was reirfforced by a
body of 7,000 Danes, and we heard that many
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 99
fresh regiments were being rapidly raised in
England and Scotland to assist the Prince of
Orange in the coming campaign which he had
decided to conduct in person.
On the I4th March, 1690, General De
Lauzun came over from France to aid our
cause, bringing with him some 7,000 troops
from King Louis.
On landing at Kinsale he marched to
Dublin, where King James received him
cordially and gave him the chief command.
Some three months later the news reached
us in Dublin that William of Orange had
landed at Carrickfergus, and that he had at
his command an army of some 38,000 men
of various nationalities : Dutch, Danes,
Brandenburgers, Finlanders, French, Swiss,
Norwegians, English, Scotch Presbyterians
and Ulster Protestants.
Our army, which had advanced consider-
ably north, now commenced to retreat.
We burned Dundalk and retreated to
Drogheda followed by William of Orange,
100 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
whose fleet sailed along the coast and kept
company with the army as it steadily
advanced.
On the 29th of June the enemy had reached
Ardee, and on Monday, the 3Oth, marched
from there to the Boyne river where our
army was waiting for them.
Early that morning General Sarsfield,
Richard Hamilton and I had been recon-
noitring at Oldbridge on the right of our
position when we called De Lauzun's attention
to a group of men seated on a mound near
the opposite bank.
' That's Orange," Sarsfield cried, his keen
eye having caught sight of the stately figure
of the Prince, as he stood up for a moment
from the breakfast which they were all
employed upon.
Two pieces of artillery were quickly sent
for and concealed behind a hedge by the river,
and as the Prince of Orange finished his meal
and was about to depart the guns spoke and
flashed their contents in among his party.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD IOI
One shot cut down a man and two horses,
and the second struck the Prince, and, as we
supposed, killed him ; but it turned out
afterwards to be only a flesh wound with
some loss of blood.
It was a near thing, however, and I doubt
if Orange ever had a closer shave.
After this I retired with General Sarsfield
who commanded the King's escort, and I
felt with disgust that this would mean being
merely a spectator in the coming fight ; for
the King always kept well in the background
and was fully prepared for flight at any
moment.
To my delight, however, Richard Hamilton
desired to strengthen his position at Donore
and asked Sarsfield to reinforce him, so the
General sent me with a company of horse
that night to the river.
It was upon this occasion that Captain
Dudley's bitter jealousy again broke out (as
Moira informed me afterwards), on hearing
Richard Hamilton turn to De Lauzun and
say in a voice of suppressed emotion as I
102 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
advanced over the brow of the hill a stately
figure on Ballyglunin " Thank God, we've
got O'Hara at the Boyne."
For knowing that I was on duty with King
James's escort, Hamilton had naturally con-
cluded that I would have to occupy a useless
position in the rear, though a rumour had
gone about that the King would offer me the
command at Slane.
So the summer evening dimmed and faded,
and blotted out the opposing armies gathered
along the green banks of the Boyne. The
stars came out and wheeled around the
heavens, and twinkled and paled and died.
Then dawn broke at last on the ist of
July,* and ushered in a day big with fate for
Ireland.
1 2th July, new style
CHAPTER XV.
The Battle of the Boyne.
THE morning of the battle broke in
glorious sunshine, which lit up the
beauty of the country round us, the
rich fields stretching as far as the eye could
see, and the gentle declivities of Donore
reaching down to the river, which thinned
away in the direction of Drogheda and looked
like a strip of molten steel under the rays of
the risen sun.
I write of the events which followed from
my own personal experiences on our side of the
river, while my friend, Captain Marshall, of
the Enniskillen dragoons, whose prisoner I
was at Slane, has assisted me in the move-
ments of the enemy.
Our army numbered 26,000 men, while
the Prince of Orange had collected some
38,000 underneath his banner. The army of
William consisted almost entirely of foreign
104 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and English regiments, with a sprinkling of
Enniskilleners and Ulster Protestants thfown
in.*
Our position was well chosen.
The Boyne from Slane to Drogheda is some
eight miles in length and flows mainly from
west to east.
As it approaches the Hill of Donore it bends
to the north, and making a semi-circular
curve turns again to the south-east and then
straight on to Drogheda.
It was on the tongue of land between
Donore Hill and the curve of the river that
the battlefield was situated.
The Hill of Donore, which is more or less
steep on its western side, slopes down on the
northern side in easy undulations to the
river.
On the low ground close to the edge of the
Boyne stood the village of Oldbridge, and
* Dutch, Danes, Brandenburgers, Philanders, Swiss, Nor-
wegians, French, Scotch, and English composed that formidable
array ; but the average Orangeman is still firmly convinced that
the Battle of the Boyne was exclusively woi; by the men of
Portadown, Belfast, and Tandragee. On the other side were
Irish and French with Scotch, and English Jacobites.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD IO5
here the river can be easily forded at low
water, as the tide comes up a little further
than the shallows.
At Rosnaree, which lay between Oldbridge
and Slane, there was another ford which
cavalry could cross, and lastly, to complete
the description of our position, there was a
bridge crossing the river at Slane.
Our artillery, which consisted of twelve
small pieces belonging to our French allies,
was divided into two batteries, one of which
was placed to the south of Oldbridge, while
the other commanded the ford opposite to
Yellow Island.
Some small breastworks had been thrown
up opposite Oldbridge and close to the river to
protect Tyrconnell's dragoons, who were
defending that village.
The enemy's camp was pitched behind the
Hill of Tullyallen, and was intersected by two
denies, by which the river could be reached
in a few minutes. The great advantage of
their position was that it enabled them to
106 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
follow every movement of our men, while
concealing their own until the moment of
attack.
Their artillery was planted on two hillocks
at the mouths of the defiles, and was im-
mensely superior to ours, which lay directly
opposite. They had no less than fifty guns
against our twelve, besides some mortars,
and the day before had dismounted two from
our batteries with a well-directed fire.
Their plan of attack (which I learnt after-
wards was suggested by that old veteran,
Schomberg, and not by the Prince of Orange
as we all supposed), was to force the passage
of the river at the Oldbridge ford, and at the
same time to cross the bridge at Slane higher
up and turn our left flank.
It was, indeed, a noble conception, and if
properly carried out might have ended the
campaign by the defeat and capture of our
entire army, including even our restless King,
who had all preparations completed for
flight, if necessary, to Dublin.
MY SWORD FOR SARS FIELD 1 07
In the consultation which was held by our
leaders on the previous night Richard Hamil-
ton was the first to hint to the King the
possibility of the Slane bridge movement,
and suggested that eight regiments should
be sent to defend that important point.
The King, in answer, proposed to send only
fifty dragoons, his mind, I suppose, being
chiefly concerned about the possibility of
flight to Dublin, for he had actually detached
six of our twelve guns to guard his baggage,
which was dispatched early on the following
morning. Finally he agreed to send Sir Neal
O'Neale to the ford at Rosnaree, below Slane,
with his regiment of 800 dragoons.
Shortly after sunrise, " Orange " (as Sars-
field termed him), or " the little Dutchman "
(as General De Lauzun called him, though
our Frenchman himself was a mite of a man),
ordered the English guns to play along our
lines, and at the same time he dispatched
some 13,000 horse and foot to pass the bridge
at Slane and turn our left flank.
108 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
This movement was not perceived by us
for some time, as a hill on the other side of
the river cloaked the movements of the
marching men, and it was not until their
advance guard had crossed the Mattock
River at Monk-Newton that we realized the
full force of our danger. These horse and
foot soldiers now divided, the horse, under
Portland and Count Schomberg (not the
veteran), came down by Knowth and crossed
the river by the ford at Rosnaree, while the
foot, under Douglas, passed over the bridge
at vSlane. When their cavalry attempted to
cross at Rosnaree Sir Neal O'Neale made a
noble defence with his dragoons, holding the
enemy in check for nearly an hour, until
their infantry (having crossed the undefended
bridge at Slane) came out with a park of
artillery and the gallant O'Neale fell mortally
wounded. Then our dragoons retreated in
the direction of Duleek, pursued by the re-
united forces of the enemy.
Our Commander-in-chief, De Lauzun, re-
alizing the danger rather late in the day now
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
attempted to repair his negligence by ordering
the whole of our left wing (which was chiefly
composed of French troops) to march to the
left and oppose the right wing of the enemy,
who had crossed at Slane and Rosnaree.
Meanwhile the enemy's main body under
the Prince of Orange and the Duke of Schom-
berg were bombarding the stone houses at
Oldbridge village and the breastworks we
had erected, and from where I stood I could
see the little Dutchman directing the fire of
one of the batteries with his own hands.
His troops during this bombardment were
kept well under cover out of reach of our
small battery of six guns which the King
had left us ; but we were to lose even these,
for De Lauzun ordered them to be moved
to the left wing to assist the French infantry
in their attack upon the enemy's right.
King James now assisted in bringing about
the second terrible mistake of that eventful
day.
Thinking that the main body of the enemy
would follow their right wing and cross after
HO MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
them at Slane and Rosnaree, he drew off our
men defending Oldbridge to assist De Lauzun
on our left, leaving only Tyrconnell's dragoons
and two brigades of his first line. The reason
that he gave Sarsfield, when my General
hinted that he might as well have taken all
away when he left so few, is, I think, character-
istic of the Royal runaway
" I do not see fit to draw them all away,"
said he, " as the cannon with my baggage is
not far enough advanced on the way to
Dublin."
The King then rejoined De Lauzun taking
Sarsfield with him, whose great services were
therefore lost to us for that day.
So the fords at Oldbridge were left insuffi-
ciently defended, while our right wing (com-
posed of cavalry) was far off between Old-
bridge and Drogheda.
The Prince of Orange having heard that his
right wing had successfully crossed the river
now ordered his main body under Schomberg
to cross the ford at Oldbridge, taking the
water in four divisions at four different places
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD III
He himself led the left wing which was
chiefly composed of cavalry, across the deep
ford at Pass, just below Yellow Island.
At half-past ten in the morning I heard the
bugles ring out on the far side of the Boyne,
and out of the mouth of one of the denies
came the Blue Dutch Guards.
They came down to the river at the double,
their drums beating and their banners flying,
while I heard their shrill fifes scream out the
insulting tune of " Lullibullero."
Following close after them came the French
Hugenots and the Enniskilleners.
The Blue Dutch Guards took the river
highest up the stream, while the French and
Enniskilleners dashed fiercely into the water
bv Grave Island, where, checked for a
<j
moment by the reeds and osiers, they at
length burst their way through.
After these came Sir John Hanmer and
Count Nassau with their regiments ; and then,
last of all, the Danish and German troops
poured out of the eastern defile, and entered
the river between the two islands.
112 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
In a few moments the glittering waters of
the Boyne seemed turned into one mass of
armed and struggling men.
The bodies of the Dutchmen who had first
entered the stream in number^ actually
blocked the current for the moment, and
the depth of the water increasing rapidly
obliged them to hold their muskets overhead,
while the loud beating of their drums suddenly
ceased as the water passed beyond their
waists.
Our men reserved their fire until the Dutch
were half-way across, and then a whole peal
of shot came from the hedges, breastworks
and houses.
It had little effect, however, on the dogged
Dutchmen, who on reaching the bank formed
themselves up in battle array and charging
Tyrconnell's dragoons scattered them like
chaff before the wind ; but before the Dutch
could pursue them a squadron of Hamilton's
Horse came up on the gallop and drove the
Blues back on the river.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 113
The battle now developed into a confused
melee, and skirmish after skirmish followed
in quick succession.
Our foot soldiers came from behind the
sheltering hill and were assisted by the
cavalry of the right wing who had come up
to their support.
Richard Hamilton, whose gallant conduct
on that day may have entitled him to be
called the hero of the Boyne (but I do not
care to dispute that matter now), placed
himself at the head of a body of foot,
and leading them down to the river attacked
the two regiments of Huguenots under
Caillemote and Cambon while they were still
crossing.
He dashed into the water to encourage the
rest, and in the midst of the carnage seemed
to bear a charmed life.
A panic now fell on our undisciplined foot,
and they broke and scattered, leaving their
noble leader without support. Seeing his
danger I came up with my squadron of horse
and rescued him from a perilous position.
114 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
He now placed himself at our head and we
charged the men of Hanmer's and Nassau's
regiments, sabring them in the very bed of
the river.
At last we were obliged to retreat before
superior numbers, but rallying on the bank
we charged the French Huguenots again, and
tore through the regiments of Caillemote and
Cambon. With a remnant of only eight
men we returned at last to the main body,
and Hamilton heading us once more we broke
on Nassau's regiment with such a fury that
many of them were driven back even to the
opposite shore.
Our foot had now rallied, and supported by
Hamilton's Horse charged the Dutch in the
open, but were forced to retire, after some
deadly work had been accomplished with the
pike.
The French Huguenots, the Enniskilleners,
and Sir John Hanmer's regiment were now
charged by the Duke of Berwick and Lord
Galmoy, but they received the shock like
adamant. The Danish Horse, however, who
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 115
had just come over, did not fare so well, for a
troop of horse dispatched against them by the
vigilant Hamilton charged them so home
that they went back faster than they came,
some of them never looking behind until they
had recrossed the river.
At this time the confusion became terrible,
for nothing could be seen except smoke and
dust, or anything heard but a continual fire
for about half an hour.
The constant charges of our horse had con-
fused the enemy's troops and prevented their
joint action, for we had broken every regiment
with the exception of the gallant Ennis-
killeners and the Dutch BJues.
The Huguenots were now in confusion,
having lost their leader, Caillemote, and it
was at this period, I remember, that the Duke
of Schomberg, who had come across to Old-
bridge, put himself at their head, and pointing,
it was said, at the French Catholics on our
side, cried out : " Come on gentlemen, there
are your persecutors ! "
Il6 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
The Huguenots were advancing rapidly
under this gallant veteran when Hamilton
ordered me to charge with my squadron of
Sarsfield's Horse, and we broke with a roar
on the French lines.
As I dashed up at the head of my gallant
fellows I fired my pistol point blank at the
Duke's neck, and OToole, who was behind
me, cut him down with the sabre.
George Walker, the hero of Londonderry,
who had been made Bishop of Derry by the
Prince of Orange, was also slain close by when
coming to Schomberg's aid with a company
of Enniskilleners.
We swept on through the Huguenots, many
of our fine fellows being cut to pieces in the
charge, but Ballyglunin bore me safely
through, and slashed and wounded and
drenched in sweat and blood I rejoined Sir
Richard Hamilton.
The fight by the Oldbridge fords had lasted
for close upon an hour, and had been so
fiercely contended that many old soldiers
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 117
told me afterwards that they had never seen
brisker work.
We were now obliged to retreat before the
superior force of the enemy to the Hill of
Donore, where our horse and foot drew up in
good order and were determined to resist to
the end.
The Prince of Orange had come on the
field rather late. He had been bogged on the
Meath side of the river and was obliged to
dismount until his charger had been ex-
tricated.
He now advanced with his usual gallantry
against our position at Donore, and led the
Danish Horse in person.
Hamilton again charged with our cavalry,
and so hotly that the Danes were broken and
the Prince was for some moments in con-
siderable danger.
After this he led the Enniskilleners against
us, and it was now that he seemed to bear a
charmed life, for he was struck by two balls,
one grazing the cap of his pistol, and the other
carrying off the heel of his boot.
Il8 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Finally, I saw him again advancing against
us at the head of Solmes's Dutch Blues.
I had seen him far off on that morning when
the cannon ball had grazed his shoulder, but I
now saw him almost face to face. A small
but stately figure he appeared on horseback,
and as he turned to give an order to the Blues
I saw clearly a face that will never be for-
gotten. A lofty brow, with a nose curved
like the beak of an eagle, a firm cut mouth,
and eyes whose martial fire no sorrow or
disease could dim ; for he appeared to me to
be pale and thin with deep lines of care across
the solemn face.
His whole attack was now concentrated
upon the Hill of Donore, from which we were
finally driven after a fierce resistance. Over-
come by the superiority of numbers we made
an orderly retreat towards Duleek, our horse
soldiers protecting the foot.
About a mile and a half south of Oldbridge,
at a place, I think, called Plotin Castle, the
pressure of the enemy became exceptionally
fierce, and it was here that Hamilton and I
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 1 19
made that last great charge which was talked
of for many a day after by both the com-
batants.
We had routed the Enniskilleners with
considerable slaughter, but proceeding too
far we came face to face with the Prince of
Orange and the main body of the enemy.
I had cut down one of Solmes's Blues who
had threatened Hamilton's life, and was
bursting with uplifted sword upon the .little
Dutchman when a musket shot struck my
darling Ballyglunin, and changed, perhaps,
the destiny of Europe. As my *ioble charger
lay struggling in the death agony I tried to
rise and extricate myself, but a foot soldier
clubbed me with his musket and knocked me
senseless on the plain.
It was a cruel blow, for when I came to
myself again I was lying beside the dead
body of Ballyglunin with my head almost
swimming in a pool of blood.
The Prince of Orange was standing hard
by engaged in conversation with Richard
120 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Hamilton, who had been taken prisoner.
The Prince was muttering something about
" Honour," and the prisoner seemed crest-
fallen. As I tried to raise my head the
little Dutchman saw me, and beckoning to
one of his attendants pointed and said,
" See that my surgeon attends him."
Then turning to Richard Hamilton he
added with significance, " If your foot, sir,
could produce such heroes as your horse, I
might have found this task impossible."
I sank back against the body of Bally-
glunin, and proud, I must confess, of such
praise from one of the first soldiers in Europe.
Meanwhile the battle rolled on towards
Duleek. General De Lauzun, who was at
first hotly assailed by the enemy's right wing,
now skilfully conducted the retreat.
Our right wing, under Tyrconnell and
Berwick, joined in with him at Duleek,
having marched from Donore by the Hill of
Cruizrath. We crossed the Nanney Water
and another great stand was made there, the
artillery on both sides coming into play.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 121
When the Prince of Orange arrived with
the remainder of the enemy we retreated in
good order towards Dublin, save for the few
stragglers who had thrown away their arms
and were mercilessly shot down like hares
among the corn.
The Prince of Orange left his foot at
Duleek and pursued us with his horse as far
as Naul.
It was now ten o'clock at night. The stars
were gleaming over the battlefield, their pale
light falling on the ghastly faces and the torn
bodies of the slain. Beside Donore the Irish
dead lay thickest. The firing at Naul had
died upon my ears as I lay on the cold ground
near Plotin Castle propped up by a pillow
which the kindly surgeon had obtained and
when that last stand was made at Naul, the
King, for whom we Irish died, was safe in
Dublin, thirty miles away !
I turned over in my pain and tried to sleep.
The summer night crept slowly on as I lay
there staring at the circling stars the silence
122 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
broken by the far-off moaning of the wounded
and the dying. The trees beyond Donore
were rustling with the gentle summer breeze
that stirred the ripples on the bosom of the
river, while its blood-stained waters hurried
towards the sea.
CHAPTER XVI.
I rest at Monasterboice.
next day I was removed to Slane and
1 placed in a temporary hospital there
with other wounded soldiers, in charge
of Captain Marshall of the Enniskillen
Dragoons.
He turned out a very pleasant fellow, and
when my wound became sufficiently healed
to enable me to enjoy his conversation we
would go over again and again every phase
of the great fight, being occasionally inter-
rupted by a Scotch soldier called M'Gregor,
who insisted in pointing out the proper moves
we Irish should have made.
When I was recovering, a surprise awaited
me one day in a visit from the Abbot of
Monasterboice, a cousin of my dear mother's,
who heard of my whereabouts while he was
visiting some of the wounded Irish soldiers.
124 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
That afternoon he obtained leave from my
kind friend, Marshall, to bring me to his
home for rest and change until the prisoners
were ordered to be sent to Dublin, and I set
out with him on horseback with my poor
head swathed around with bandages like any
turbaned Turk.
The country all around was quite deserted,
as the invading army had moved on to Dublin
and were now preparing for the march on
Limerick, to which our army had retreated.
King James, however, was not with them.
His early flight from the Boyne water had
been continued from Dublin to Waterford,
where he put to sea in the Count de Lauzun,
and making towards Kinsale joined a French
frigate and sailed for France.
The Abbot and I moved our horses slowly
forward as I was still weak from my wound.
We soon approached our destination, and I
caught sight of the great landmark rising
above the low hills in whose bosom, ten
centuries before, Saint Boyce had planted the
Cross of the Redeemer.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 125
The rich beauty of the scene enchanted my
vision after the rugged barrenness of Con-
naught.
We stood now in the very heart of this
favoured region, which seemed to stretch
from the Dublin Hills in the south to
Slieve Donard and the Mourne Mountains
in the north, and from the sea to the western
horizon dipping down on the rich plains of
Meath and Oriel.
In front of us the sun still lighted up the
golden wealth of a ripening harvest, while
behind us the distant towers of Drogheda were
touched into dusky beauty on their western
buttresses and battlements.
We now continued our journey, and soon
before us in a green hollow, half-way up the
hills' declivity, stood the old grey tower,
lonely and wan as any ghost in daylight, the
only thing that caught no mellowing tint
from the sweet influences of the hour.
Beyond it lay the ruined abbey and the
chapel with the great carved crosses standing
126 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
round. These took some brightness from the
happy sunshine in direct contrast to the grey
giant that towered above them in melancholy
splendour.
In this sweet spot I found the needed rest
after the heat of battle and the shock of arms,
and the aged Abbot, who himself had been
through the stress of the Cromwellian wars,
regaled me with stories of those stirring times
of horror.
My pleasant holiday, however, was soon to
end, for a few days after my arrival a
messenger came in from Captain Marshall
telling me to return to Slane that night, as a
sudden order had been received for all the
prisoners to proceed to Dublin.
That last evening comes back to me now
like a picture on the memory.
I remember when I had bidden the Abbot
good-bye, had thanked him for all his good-
ness, and received the blessing of our Church,
I went out in the fading evening light to take
a last look at the round tower which had won
an abiding affection in my heart.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 127
The melancholy about it seemed to deepen
as I stepped across to Muredach's Cross and
stood there surrounded 'by these memorials
of the dead. The great age of all the tomb-
stones, exposed to the rain-storms of so many
centuries, gave to the place a special loneli-
ness it seemed so long ago since all these
quiet strangers passed from the noise and
turmoil of the world.
I took a last farewell.
The Angelus was ringing as I crossed the
ancient churchyard and all the countryside
was shrouded in the sadness of a summer's
evening.
The shadows were lengthening one by one
across the old grey tombstones, standing
there like time-worn sentinels to mark the
few handfuls of hushing dust in unremem-
bered graves.
So to this end we all must come at last and
leave the sunshine and the song of birds love,
friendship, strong ambition.
Just a little folding of the hands to sleep,
128 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and then the darkness with only those
words which were spoken sixteen hundred
years ago, and our trembling faith and
through the broken vault a gleam of the
Stor of Bethlehem.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Birmingham Tower.
second night after my departure from
1 Monasterboice I found myself standing
in the courtyard of Dublin Castle and
waiting to be assigned a prison.
Captain Marshall, who had accompanied
us with a troop of horse from Slane, now came
up to bid me good-bye, and to tell me that
Captain Farlow had decided to give me
comfortable quarters in the Birmingham
Tower with an officer of my own regiment
who had been captured in a skirmish some
few days before.
Then came one of the most unpleasant
surprises of my life.
The soldier in whose charge I was placed
conducted me up to my room in the top
storey of the famous tower, and unlocking the
door told me to enter.
Then I heard the key grating in the lock.
130 MY SWORD FOR SARSF1ELD
The room was small and very gloomy, a
small barred window some ten feet from the
floor being the only means of obtaining light
or air. In the feeble summer twilight which
struggled through I saw the figure of a man
seated on one of the two beds which occupied
the room.
He raised his head and stared at me, and
I saw that it was Captain Dudley.
I have been in many unpleasant situations
during my eventful life, but I never remember
my heart sinking as it did on this occasion,
and for some moments I could see nothing
but the picture of Moira's sweet face being
raised up towards this brute's and waiting
to be kissed at forfeits ! However, what
can't be cured must be endured ; and I went
up and greeted the man sulkily.
After some days, however, mutual loneli-
ness made us fair companions, and we began
to talk at last more briskly and even to cheer
one another with the thought that it could not
be long before Sarsfield would have us
exchanged for some of his own prisoners.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
A week went slowly by and brought us, as
far as I can remember, to the close of July,
but no whisper of our release came.
It was then my restless spirit began to fret
at the long confinement, and one day when I
had been staring hopelessly at the little barred
window with its pinch of sunlight creeping
through, there came upon me slowly the
daring idea of a desperate dash for freedom
and for Limerick, where my beloved Sarsfield
had gone.
" I must get out of this rat-hole/' I said to
Captain Dudley, and drew the little wooden
table which we used for meals underneath
the window.
" Are you mad," he answered, " what
about the bars ? '
For answer I drew from my pocket a great
coarse clasp knife and held it up to him.
He burst into an insolent fit of laughter, so
that I could have struck him across the face.
" What ? " he cried, " that thing, and
three thick bars of iron ! "
132 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
"One bar/' I answered, "not three. Take
out the centre one and any man who longs for
freedom will find a way through," and I
began picking at the base of the centre bar
with the point of the knife.
Well, he grew more respectful after that,
and I sat down beside him on one of the beds
and told him the main plan of escape which
I had been pondering over in my fertile
imagination.
" The cement," I said, " that holds the bar
is soft enough to be scraped away by constant
working with my knife, and when the bar
gives way the rest of the plan is easy.
' We shall climb through the window at
night and let ourselves down with a rope
into the Castle yard, then pass the sentry at
Ship Street or kill him if he stops us, and
after that trust to good fortune, assisted by
the darkness of the streets."
" Splendid," he answered, curtly, " but we
have no rope, and no weapon."
I seized one of the sheets from the far bed,
nicked the edge with my knife and tore a
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 133
strip from end to end of it, and about a foot
wide. " You see we can easily manufacture
our rope of freedom, and as for a weapon you
can club a man with an iron bar as easily as
with a musket, and I shall have that centre
bar out in two days."
Well, we started that evening after our
gaoler had brought in supper, and I took the
first turn and worked on deep into the night.
It was very weary that constant scraping
at the cement round the root of the central
bar, and the progress painfully small, but I
saw the walls of Limerick in the distance and
felt the clasp of Sarsfield's.hand !
Captain Dudley relieved me in the early
hours of the morning, and as I climbed into
bed to snatch a few hours' rest I had the
satisfaction of seeing him attacking the
window with an extraordinary zeal.
When I awoke, however, and resumed my
labours the Captain's progress appeared to
me to be exceedingly poor for so many hours 1
work.
134 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Had he his heart, I wondered, in this
business, after all ?
I made no comment but worked steadily
on, cheered by the view which was always
staring at me through the little window the
view of the Dublin mountains, soft and grey
in the distance, with freedom waiting there
for me if I could but once clear the city.
I hid all signs of our labour carefully lest
the keen eye of the gaoler might detect our
little game, and on the third night I had the
satisfaction of moving the bottom end of
the bar out of the cement in which it had
been buried, and then by using it in lever
fashion had finally wrenched it from the top
of the window as well.
Next night (a Friday, I remember) we
arranged for the escape to take place about
ten o'clock, when the last round of the prison
had been made.
The next morning we started our rope
making, tearing the sheets into broad pieces
and knotting them firmly together. I could
tell pretty well by the house opposite the
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 135
length that we required, and left, as you can
guess, a* pretty fair margin over.
The night came down at last, dark, but
with no rain or wind ; rather too still for my
fancy, as I would have liked a stormy night
to cloak all sounds of our descent.
We hid our rope beneath the bed until the
gaoler had gone by, and then we drew it forth
and prepared for the great venture.
First one bed was drawn underneath the
window and the rope firmly fixed to one of
the legs and then lowered slowly out of the
window.
Then the second bed was placed on top of
the first and on that the table, so that we had
our rope soundly weighted and secured.
The agreement had been made that I
(having placed the iron bar in the breast of
my uniform) should squeeze out of the
window first, and when I had climbed to the
earth signal with the rope for Captain Dudley
to follow.
I climbed up on top of our pile of furniture
and squeezed myself slowly out through the
136 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
window backwards, and clutching the rope
firmly, I swung out into the darkness and
hung between earth and sky.
I could see the lights twinkling in the
windows of Ship Street as I slowly descended,
and I could hardly have been thirty feet from
the ground when I happened to glance up-
wards and saw plainly through the increasing
darkness a sight which turned my heart to
ice.
The figure of Captain Dudley leaning out
of the window and sawing at a joining of the
rope with something I could not detect in the
night !
Whatever it was it must have been suffering
from bluntness, and it was to that, I suppose,
I was indebted for my life, for he had evidently
intended to part the rope when I had been
higher up and so make my death a certainty.
When I recovered from the horror I slipped
down the next twenty feet like an acrobat,
and can scarcely have been ten feet from the
ground when the rope parted above.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 137
I tumbled through space and fell upon my
back, but was up again in a moment un-
injured, and as I drew the iron bar from my
breast, for the action which I now knew
must come, I could hear the shrill rasping
voice of the scoundrel up above me echoing
again and again upon the still night air
" Help ! help ! Prisoner escaped Birming-
ham Tower," he yelled.
Ah, my friend, why did I ever spare you on
the morning of the duel by the Liffey, even
for Moira's sake !
As I gathered myself together and dashed
for the entrance into Ship Street I could hear
the Castle waking into life, the roar of the
men at arms and the clinking of the sabres.
As I came up on the sentry on guard at
Ship Street he levelled his musket at me,
fired, and missed me, and then I closed with
him like a wild beast.
We rolled over on the ground together and
at last I freed my right arm and struck him
twice across the forehead with the iron bar,
138 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and I felt his strength fade from him as he
slipped from my arm senseless to the ground.
As I rose to my feet the wolves in pursuit
were almost upon me. I heard shouts in
English and Dutch and a couple of musket
bullets whizzed past me as I broke into Ship
Street and sped for dear life towards the
Werburgh Street corner.
I was round the corner in a flash when I
remembered the lane to the right leading to
Hoey's Court, and I had turned into it before
my pursuers had reached the corner of
Werburgh Street.
The first house on the right which I came to
had the hall door partly ajar, and I needed no
special invitation, but stepped gently inside
and closed the door.
I might have stepped right into the lion's
den or into the house of a Jacobite, but at any
rate I had tricked those roaring beasts whom
I could hear shouting at the top of Werburgh
Street and in full cry along Skinner's Row.*
* Now Christ Church Place.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 139
As I was straining my ears to catch their
further cries, now growing fainter in the
distance, I heard a door in the back of the
house creak on the hinges and then slowly
open, and a voice that sent a shock of joy
across my still palpitating heart cried down
the corridor : " Where are you, aunt Kathleen?
I dare swear I heard some noises in the hall."
Then round the corner, like a vision out of
heaven, came Moira Delamarque !
CHAPTER XVIII.
/ Escape from Dublin City.
\ FTER the delight of that meeting was
JLL over Moira explained her presence at
Hoey's Court.
When the Irish army had retreated west-
wards the Lady Honoria had followed her
husband to Limerick, and Moira had left
Lucan House and taken up her abode with
her aunt, Mrs. Kathleen Delany, at 7 Hoey's
Court indeed, next the very house in which
the celebrated Dr. Swift was born, whose
amusing Gulliver I read in a French trans-
lation at Tours forty years later.
Some three days after my escape from the
Birmingham Tower, Mrs. Delany made ar-
rangements for my escape from the city ; and
a horse was to be in waiting for me ready
saddled and bridled by St. Catherine's Church
in Thomas Street (outside the old city walls)
at ten o'clock on the following night.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 14!
As Werburgh Street was still being closely
watched I had abandoned my uniform and
was disguised in the dress of an ordinary
merchant, but carried a pair of pistols under-
neath the quaintly cut coat.
Before leaving, however, I had heard one
interesting piece of news from my hostess,
who received it from a friend in Dublin Castle.
My friend, Captain Dudley, who had tried to
murder me, had now increased an enviable
reputation by turning traitor to our cause,
and had received the pardon of the Prince
of Orange.
The night had set in darkly as I bid my
kind protectors good-bye, and held, perhaps
for a little longer than good breeding warran-
ted, the hand of Moira Delamarque.
With her " God speed you " on my ears I
stepped out into Hoey's Court and turned
cautiously into Werburgh Street, where
glancing backwards I caught a glimpse of the
Castle towers looming through the increasing
darkness.
I had advanced slowly as far as the corner
142 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
of Skinner's Row, and was passing under the
lighted windows of the corner house, when
three officers came suddenly upon me from
Castle Street, and I saw their faces clearly
in the flood of light which fell across the street.
My friend, Captain Dudley, was in the
centre, while on either side of him were
Colonel Jones and Captain George Fawcett.
Colonel Jones was known only to me by
reputation, for this gallant soldier was a
nephew of the famous Cromwellian General
who had crushed the Duke of Ormonde in
the battle of Rathmines in former years.
Captain Fawcett I knew personally, for he
had fought very bravely on the enemy's side
at the passage of the Boyne, and being
wounded was conveyed to Slane, where,
during convalescence, we had engaged each
other in games of chess.
As luck would have it the traitor, Dudley,
caught sight of my muffled face as I turned
the lighted corner by Skinner's Row, and
calling his companions' attention to " the
escaped prisoner, O'Hara," the three of them
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 143
drew their swords and advancing towards me
called upon me to surrender.
For answer. I drew out my two pistols to
have them handy, and repeating that cry of
" No Surrender " which I had heard so often
shouted from the walls of Derry I dashed out
into the darkness of Skinner's Row and fled
as fast as my legs could carry me towards the
High Street.
As I entered the High Street I glanced
behind and saw that the three officers were
close upon my heels.
The great mistake I now made was con-
tinuing straight ahead, for had I taken one
of the narrow lanes lying on my right and
reaching towards the river I must easily have
escaped in that intricate maze of houses.
My mind, however, was so bent on reaching
St. Catherine's Church and the horse which
awaited me there that I had forgotten all
about the sentry outside Newgate, through
which ancient city arch I would have to pass
in order to reach Thomas Street where the
church is situated.
144 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
As I passed St. Audoen's I had gained
some fifty yards on my pursuers, and I was
flying through the Cornmarket and had
reached the Newgate Arch, where another
few strides would have brought me safely
through to Cut Purse Row and Thomas
Street, when a sentry rose up out of the
darkness and challenged me with a roar.
I swerved to the left and tried to run round
him, when he burst upon me and thrust his
musket between my legs and sent me flying
head over heels into the dust. I had all my
wits about me, I can tell you, in spite of this
sudden misfortune, and turning over on my
back as the man sprang towards me, I gave
him the contents of my left-hand pistol
between the shoulders, when he staggered
for a moment and then toppled over on the
roadway without a cry.
As I rose to my feet and burst into Cut
Purse Row Captain Fawcett was close upon
me, for being a powerful runner he had out-
distanced Jones and Dudley.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 145
close upon me that I could catch the sound of
his panting on the night air, and when at
last, thank God, I saw the outline of St.
Catherine's loom upon my left, there could
hardly have been twenty feet between us.
I now saw the horse waiting for me by the
railing round the church, but the fellow who
had brought it had promptly fled at our
approach.
I was abreast of the old tower when I
turned upon Fawcett and kneeling down
suddenly as he closed with me, I gave him
the contents of my second pistol point blank
into his breast.
His uplifted sword fell from his grasp and
clinked against some rough cobble stones
upon the road. Then he gave a cry that
might have been heard at Lucan, and spinning
round like a teetotum lurched towards me,
and fell upon his face.
I was sincerely sorry to have to kill poor
Fawcett, as brave a soldier as ever drew a
146 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
sword. But it was his life against mine, the
cause of King James against the Dutch
usurper, and I dare swear that he would
have made as little hesitation in finishing me
off with his sword if my own pistol hadn't
done the trick for him in the very nick of
time.
The short delay caused by this encounter
brought the other two close upon me, but I
had swung myself into the saddle of the animal
waiting and had dashed into the blackness
of Thomas Street as the two of them paused
by Fawcett's body. They gave me a "good-
bye," however, with their pistols, but I was
too far off to receive any harm, and I did not
draw up from the gallop until I had reached
the outlying village of Inchicore.
Here I turned to the right and took the
Chapelizod road, and by the time that the
early dawn broke over the Dublin mountains
I was well on my way to the west to join
once more my gallant Sarsfield.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Opening of the Limerick Campaign.
I must try to put down here many things
which I did not hear the full truth of
till afterwards, so that those who may
read this may more truly understand these
great events in which I found myself engaged.
When the Prince of Orange had left Dublin
after his advance there from the Boyne water
he marched southwards by Carlow and
Carrick-on-Suir, He was anxious to secure
Waterford (together with the fort of Dun-
cannon) as a convenient station for his
transports.
When he reached Carlow he sent on the
Duke of Ormonde to capture Kilkenny, which
had been left feebly garrisoned by the Lord
Deputy Tyrconnell, and when this was ac-
complished he sent on Kirke to summon
Waterford, which immediately yielded, the
garrison being allowed to march out with
all the honours of war.
148 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Duncannon yielded very mildly, too,
though Captain Michael Bourke at first made
some show of resistance, but on the appearance
of Sir Cloudesley Shovel with a fleet of six-
teen frigates he capitulated on the same
terms.
When the Prince reached Carrick-on-Suir
he received such bad accounts from London
of reverses on the Continent that he returned
suddenly to Chapelizod with the intention
of crossing to England ; but here fresh news
arrived of De Tourville's failure to invade
England at Teignmouth, so he returned with
a light heart to Cashel, where his army had
now arrived.
The Prince had been very stern in repress-
ing all plundering by his army of mixed
nationalities, and showed great humanity in
his treatment of the country folk.
Several of his soldiers were hanged on the
roadside for plundering, and upon one
occasion, when seven of them had been caught
red-handed, they were allowed to throw
dice to save their lives, and three of them
were executed.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 149
Once near the town of Naas, when the
Prince caught a trooper robbing a poor
woman, he beat the fellow furiously with his
cane and had him hanged afterwards as a
healthy example for the rest.
On the march to Carlow two of the Ennis-
killen dragoons were hanged by the roadside
and with papers pinned to their breasts
explaining their villainy, so you can imagine
that by the time the Prince of Orange reached
the walls of Limerick he had his army in a
proper state of discipline.
On the gth of August, 1690, he reached the
city of the Shannon, and that evening sent
in a trumpeter to summon the garrison.
The trumpeter was sent back by M.
Boisseleau, who was Governor of Limerick,
with a letter directed to Sir Robert South-
well, the Secretary of State, and not to the
Prince, saying that he was surprised at the
summons, and that he thought the best way
to gain the Prince of Orange's good opinion
was by a vigorous defence of that town which
his master had entrusted to him.
I5O MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Old Limerick city, when I first saw it in
the year of the great siege which has made
its name immortal, was the second city in
Ireland Dublin only exceeding it in size.
Unlike Dublin, however, it was fairly well
fortified and possessed complete walls,
bastions and outworks.
All the houses were strongly built of stone,
being most of them made castle-ways with
battlements.
That noble river which flows beside the
ancient walls, and a glimpse of whose bright
waters I often yearned for in those lonely
years of foreign exile, was navigable for ships
of considerable burden up to the town itself,
while the smaller craft could come right up
to the Bridge which connects the two parts
of the city.
At some distance above Limerick the
Shannon divides into two arms which re-,
unite and form King's Island, upon which
the older portion of the city, called English-
town, is built.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
The newer portion, called Irish-town, is
situated on the mainland (on the eastern or
Munster bank of the river), and both portions
are united by the Bridge,* as mentioned
above.
The English-town contained the principal
buildings the Cathedral of St. Mary and
King John's Castle which occupied the
southern end of King's Island. The town
wall, which was defended by fortifications
with salient angles, ran diagonally across this
southern end of the island and faced north-
east, while on the other sides, where the
Shannon flowed, the walls were lower and
feebly fortified.
King John's Castle stood on the west side
of the English-town, just at the south of
Thomond Bridge which crosses the western
arm of the river and connects the English-
town with the County Clare.
The Irish-town being situated on the main-
land on the Munster bank, and not being
guarded by the waters of the Shannon, was
more powerfully protected, and was, in fact,
* Ball's Bridge.
152 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
a fortress with five bastions, a double wall
and several towers.
In front of the walls on the north-east side
of the Irish-town our men had hastily con-
structed some outworks, consisting of a sort
of spur or hornwork, and redoubts ; while a
covered way ran round just under the town
walls|from the South Gate to St. John's Gate
Near this were two small forts, one of which
the enemy nicknamed " the Two Chimneys."
There was a spur on the south gate where
we planted the heaviest guns, and at a small
gate towards the north-east there was a sally-
port. Close to this was the Black Battery
(so called from its colour) which consisted of
three guns. The Prince had pitched his camp
on the Munster bank of the Shannon almost
due east of the English-town, in a district
called Singland, but it was against the north-
eastern portion of the Irish-town that he
directed his fierce attack.
This, then, was the position of affairs when
I first entered the city after my memorable
escape from Dublin.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 153
I have given you this description from
memory, for I never saw the old city again
after the signing of the Treaty in 1691 ;
but how often have I seen it in fond imagin-
ation during my long and faithful service
with the Irish Brigade, from Landen to
Cremona from the cold north German
country to the sunny slopes of sweet Lorraine.
Limerick and Sarsfield ! I never think of
it but to link it with his name.
I remember on the day he died at Landen
I stood once more upon the grass-grown walls
and saw through the tears that dimmed my
eyes the silver reaches of the Shannon and
the dim Clare shore ; and the dear voice seem
to speak again from the city of his fame.
Ah, how we Irish loved him ! His name
was on my lips in every battle charge I made,
and perhaps when death shall call me home
like that queen of English story his name
will still be written on my heart.
Where shall we Irishmen find his like again
that gallant soldier, that true gentleman
that majestic, stately, stainless Cavalier !
CHAPTER XX.
The Guns at Ballyneety.
WHEN I escaped from Dublin the Prince
of Orange was already before the
walls of Limerick, so I .had to make
a wide detour to cross the Shannon at Killaloe.
Here I met a company of horse soldiers out
reconnoitring, and with them I returned into
Limerick, crossing by the bridge from the
Clare side.
Our troops were not the least disheartened
by the Boyne defeat, and I found them filled
with a fierce determination to defend the city
to the last man.
The noble Sarsfield, who greeted me
warmly, was the life and soul of our party,
but General De Lauzun, who was glad of
any excuse to end the war and get out of
Ireland, had laughed at the idea of defending
such a place, and had declared that the
enemy's cannon could batter down the fortifi-
cations with roasted apples. He had then
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 155
left Limerick and marched to Galway taking
with him all the French troops and eight
guns, so that the town could only be defended
by the Irish Foot, the dragoons and the Horse.
Our entire army in and about Limerick
(for the Horse were encamped on the Clare
side of the Shannon) numbered about 20,000
Foot and 4,000 Horse'.
The troops of the Prince of Orange were
estimated at 36,000 men.
Before my arrival in the city there had
been some desultory fighting, but the enemy
were waiting for their powerful battering
train, which was on its way from Dublin,
before commencing the business in earnest.
A French gunner, who deserted from the
enemy and came over to our lines, gave
Sarsfield the information about the battering
train, and my General had decided to intercept
it before it reached the Prince's camp.
His scheme was, indeed, a noble one, but
fraught with tremendous danger.
It was on Sunday, the 2oth of August, I
remember, that I passed over Thomond
156 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Bridge with General Sarsfield and 600 Horse,
with Galloping Hogan, the daring Rapparee,
as our guide.
This man knew every road, pass and
mountain path in the West country like the
palm of his hand.
The harvest moon was shining as we passed
the fort which guarded Thomond Bridge on
the Clare side of the Shannon, and keeping on
that side of the river we passed on through
Bridgetown and Ballycorney.
The battering train of the enemy was now
on its way to Cashel, but to intercept it we
had to make a wide detour, and Sarsfield
determined to pass the Shannon at Killaloe
as O'Brien's Bridge was guarded by the
enemy.
Ah, what a glorious ride that was, with the
moon shining down upon us with its pale,
sad light.
I close my eyes and view the past again in
dreams. ' I can see Hogan's stalwart form in
front of me leaning from the saddle and
talking rapidly to our general. Sarsfield
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 157
smiles and points towards the river, and then
the tapping of the hoofs goes on and on along
the road and through the meadow-land,
while the clinking of the bridles makes music
in my ears.
We reached Killaloe and passed round by
the back of the town and above the bridge
which was guarded by the enemy, crossing
the river by the ford at Ballyvalley.
Leaving the village of Ballina behind us we
struck the Boher Road, and I confess that my
heart went into my mouth, as the saying is,
when a party of men sprang out from the side
of the road into the moonlight.
Sarsfield called upon us to halt, believing
that this might be a patrol of the enemy, and
for the moment, I think, suspecting treachery
on Hogan's 'part. But the strangers proved
to 'be only a gang of Rapparees who had a
hiding-place for plunder hard by.
We encamped that night on the side of the
Keeper Mountain, many of the country
people crowding round and offering us their
simple hospitality.
158 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
When the day dawned at last (for I slept
but little with the thrill of this adventure
through my blood) our General sent out
scouts to trace the position of the guns.
After some time they returned with the
news that the battering train was close to
Limerick, and would encamp that night at
Ballyneety.
All that day we lay among the mountains
with our scouts and the Rapparees giving us
the minutest information of the movements of
the guns.
I could see with Sarsfield's glass the convoy
creeping along in the distance and passing
under the southern spufs of the range.
They encamped that night close under the
ruined Castle of Ballyneety, on a small piece
of plain ground with several earthen fences
on one side. If they had feared any danger
it would have been easy to have drawn the
guns inside the ruin, and then it would have
been difficult for an army, much less our
small band, to have touched them.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 159
Being, however, in happy ignorance of our
proximity, and so close to their destination,
they made no special preparations of any
kind, but turned their horses out to grass
and placed only a slender guard.
Then they sank into slumber, and most of
them awoke in the next world.
When the night had fallen Sarsfield led us
down from the mountains and halted us close
to Ballyneety.
We had obtained their pass-word for the
night by one of those happy chances which
sometimes fall to the lot of the brave.
One of our troopers, whose horse had fallen
lame, had lagged behind the convoy and
happened to meet the wife of one of the
soldiers who had lost her way. Having
directed her back to the right road he fell
into pleasant conversation, and learned from
her that the pass-word for the night was,
curiously enough, " Sarsfield."
As the night advanced a bright moon rose
in the heavens, but was occasionally dimmed
by heavy banks of flying cloud.
l6o MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Sarsfield waited until one of these con-
venient wanderers had engulfed the moon,
and then, guided by Galloping Hogan, he
led us cautiously on.
As we approached the camp we were
challenged by an outpost, and giving the word
" Sarsfield " were allowed to pass on un-
molested. ,
Then as we came right up upon the groups
of silent sleepers a sentry on the lines cried
out the challenge.
Our answer came with a roar of " Sarsfield !
Sarsfield is the word and Sarsfield is the
man ! " And as the echo melted in the
night air we sprang like a thunderbolt upon
the sleepers.
Their commanding officer sprang to his
feet, and the bugles sounded " To Horse ! "
but it was altogether too late to save the
position now.
We burst over the lines with a cheer, and
sabred and shot and stabbed. Some of the
enemy on the furthest side from the attack
raced for the horses, but we chased them out
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD l6l
into the open or killed them when they turned
round bravely to offer resistance.
Then came a scene not easily forgotten.
Figures moving here and there under the
dim moonlight smashing the pontoons to
pieces, collecting all the ammunition, all the
waggons, and stores of every kind ; while
others directly under Sarsfield's eye loaded
the guns to the muzzle with powder and
sunk them in the earth.
Then around the monster scrap-heap we
poured barrels of gunpowder, and laying a
long train we retired to a safe position.
Suddenly Sarsfield gave the word and a
bright flame rippled along the earth and
reached the masses of powder and the buried
guns.
A flame of fire spouted up into the sky with
a roar that shook the earth around us, and
far away upon the walls of Limerick they
caught the distant thunder.
All the loose material that had been heaped
around the guns was shattered into fragments,
162 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
while the guns themselves leaped into the air
and fell back either burst or hopelessly
damaged.
A cheer of triumph broke from us as we
saw the great task complete, but little time
could be lost if we were to get back again to
the shelter of Limerick.
We did not, however, return empty-handed,
for we brought 400 draught horses with us
and 100 troop horses, which were found ready
saddled and bridled with pistols at the saddle
bow.
Sir John Lanier, who had been sent by the
Prince of Orange to meet and protect the
convoy, came up with his 500 men in time to
see the flash of the explosion.
He hastened to O'Brien's Bridge to cut us
off, but we passed the river at Banagher, and
reached the gates of Limerick in triumph
with the loss only of a major and a few men
killed in a slight skirmish we had with
Cunningham's dragoons.
You can imagine the reception which
awaited us in Limerick. A cheering multi-
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 163
tude surged round us to the centre of the
city, where Sarsneld received the thanks of
Boisseleau, who had been left by Tyrconnell
as Governor of Limerick after " Lying Dick
Talbot " had himself gone off after De Lauzun
to Galway.
The city was now illuminated and the
enemy were treated to a hot fire from our guns
as a practical expression of joy.
To the besiegers Sarsfield's exploit was a
tremendous blow, for a new battering train
had to come up all the way from Waterford,
and the loss of the pontoons prevented the
Prince of Orange from following up his passage
of the Shannon at Annaghbeg, and delivering
an assault from the Clare side.
This, then, was the deed that established
Sarsfield's fame, and filled with a fierce enthu-
siasm every waiting heart that beat behind
the Limerick ramparts.
CHAPTER XXL
The Siege of Limerick.
IT was on a Sunday, the lyth of August,
1690, that the trenches of the enemy
were opened by Cambon and the first
attack made on our redoubts.
The Prince of Orange, hoping to raise a
spirit of emulation among his soldiers, ordered
seven of his battalions with picked men from
the English, French, Dutch and Danish
regiments to work in the trenches under their
different leaders.
That night their trenches were so far
advanced that they delivered an assault on
our Two Chimneys redoubt which was still
in the course of construction.
This attack was made by their Grenadiers,
whose appearance excited merriment among
us, for they seemed to be all a pyebald
yellow and red, and wore furred caps with
coped crowns like janizaries. This gave
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 165
them a fierce appearance, and they also had
long hoods hanging down behind them as we
sometimes picture fools.
They fought, however, with great gallantry,
throwing in their hand grenades which ex-
ploded among our men with fatal effect,
terrifying where they failed to kill, for this
form of weapon had been unknown to us up
to that.
When they had captured this redoubt no
quarter was given, and all our men who
remained behind were knocked upon the
head.
On the i8th of August the new battering
train of the Prince of Orange arrived from
Waterford, and he had now altogether some
forty pieces of artillery, which included some
36-pounders, a battery of 24-pounders, and
twelve guns which threw red-hot shot.
On the day of its arrival a tremendous fire
of shot, shell, and red-hot balls broke into
the devoted city, and continued day after
day until the conclusion of the siege.
l66 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
What sufferings this involved upon the
citizens you can easily imagine, but encouraged
by the gallant Sarsfield and the generous
Boisseleau they bore these inflictions with a
noble resolution.
The redoubt which had been taken by their
weird-looking Grenadiers was re-captured by
us the next day, and on August the 2Oth the
enemy again endeavoured to capture it in
full force.
It had been battered for two days by the
Prince's guns when he ordered his men to
attack.
Cutt's Grenadiers came dashing out of their
entrenchments and straight at the fort, which
they struggled bravely to scale, but we re-
ceived them with a deadly fire from the fort
itself and our guns spoke also from two towers
on the city walls.
Their first attack was repulsed, and their
leader brave Captain Foxon, of Cutt's, was
hurled back bleeding and wounded from the
ramparts.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 167
At last they succeeded in getting in, but
only after a ghastly piece of carnage, our
men fighting almost to the last man.
At Sarsfield's orders the guns from the
Devil's Tower now opened on the captured
redoubt with an effect at that short distance
which was deadly.
Boisseleau was still determined to retake
the redoubt, and now ordered Purcell with
300 fusiliers, and Luttrell with 150 horse
to essay the task.
St. John's Gate was suddenly opened for
them, and the gallant fellows dashed out and
made for the redoubt, where a sweeping fire
from the enemy laid many of them in the
dust.
A body of the Prince of Orange's Horse
now bore down upon them with their sabres
flashing in the air, and their roars of defiance
heard loud above the crash of fighting men.
As they swept our Foot before them the
gallant Luttrell charged them with his
troopers and brought them to a stop ; then
l68 MY SWORD FOR SARSF1ELD
feigning to retreat he drew them in towards
the walls within range of our guns, which
spouted fire at them from the embrazures.
They lost Colonel Needham and Capt. Lucy
killed, besides many officers and men, and we
calculated a total loss for them of some 400
men in that business.
I must not omit an adventure that took
place between one of their chaplains and a
trooper at the taking of the fort.
This chaplain happened to go down after
the fort was taken, and seeing a trooper to all
appearance mortally wounded he fancied
himself obliged to give the wounded man
some spiritual advice.
The poor soldier was very thankful for his
reverence's care for him, and was receiving
ghostly consolation when our, men broke out
from the town on the sally. As our Horse
came thundering down the clergyman tried
to get out of the way and slipped and fell.
Whereupon the wounded trooper, thinking
him to be killed, stepped up to him and com-
menced to strip off his coat.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 169
The clergyman called out to him to hold,
and asked him what he meant.
" Sir," says the trooper, " I beg your
pardon, for I fancied you to be dead, and so
thought myself obliged to take as good care
of your coat as you did of my soul."
The terrible cannonade still continued, and
the heavier guns, which were playing against
the walls near St. John's Gate, were coming
nearer and nearer as the trenches were pushed
forward.
On Sunday, the 24th August, the breach in
the walls began to appear, and the enemy
pushed their trenches to within twenty paces
of the counterscarps, using woolsacks to
protect the men in the trenches.
By Monday the breach had widened
enormously, and we now in turn used wool-
sacks for protection.
The next move on the enemy's part was
the attack on Ball's Bridge by a battery in
order to break off all communication between
the upper and lower town, but we planted
I7O MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
some guns on King's Island and smashing
up their battery saved the bridge.
Meanwhile the shells and red-hot balls
continued their havoc among the houses in
the upper and lower towns. On Saturday,
August the 23rd, three fires had occurred in
different places, and one so grew in dimen-
sions that we were obliged to blow up some
houses hard by with gunpowder in order
to prevent the flames from spreading.
No one felt safe for a moment in their
houses during the ten days that the bomb-
bardment lasted, and my friend, Colonel
Peter Drake, had an experience which is
worth relating.
There was between his house and the town
wall a large magazine, and the enemy ordered
two pieces of ordnance to be levelled at this
building. Some of their shots passed clean
through the magazine and hit the gable end
of his house where the apartment was situated
in which he and his friend, Captain Plunkett,
slept. This gentleman was to mount the
guard that day, and going out very early
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
left Colonel Drake asleep. Some two hours
after he rose from his slumbers and went out
to ask one of the servants to get him a clean
shirt, and before he had time to return a
cannon ball had beaten down the wall, a
great part of which had fallen on his bed and
demolished it. It then passed through his
father's bedchamber and broke the posts of
the bed in which his parents were asleep, but,
thank heaven, had no worse effect than to
put the whole family in a consternation.
Family life being thus interfered with, many
preferred to live in huts on the King's Island
or on the Clare side beyond Thomond Bridge.
For the whole of Tuesday, the; 26th of
August, the fire of the heaviest guns that the
enemy possessed were directed against the
ever widening breach in the walls, which was
npw large enough to have admitted some
forty men abreast.
Behind the breach Boisseleau and Sarsfield
had constructed a retirade which they de-
fended with woolsacks and other material.
Here they planted a battery of three guns,
172 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and then on either side more guns were
placed so as to mow down the enemy on both
flanks as they burst through the breach.
At last the great day dawned on which the
Prince of Orange gave the order for the
assault on Limerick, Wednesday, August the
27th, 1690.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when
the signal for the assualt was given by the
firing of three guns, and the attacking party
of the enemy that now moved forward con-
sisted of some 10,000 men.
We were taken somewhat by surprise at
the first, for suddenly out of the trenches
close under our walls leaped those weird-like
Grenadiers, who immediately attacked the
counterscarp and fired their muskets and
hurled their hand grenades.
We soon recovered, however, and having
our guns all ready we discharged great and
small shot upon them as fast as possible.
So that in less than two minutes the noise
was so terrible that one would have thought
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 173
that the very skies were ready to rend
asunder, and this was followed by clouds of
smoke and dust and all the terrors which
the art of men can invent to ruin and undo
one another.
The Prince of Orange's intention was to
first capture the counterscarp and then pos-
sess himself of the covered way which lay
immediately under the walls.
He therefore now dispatched the Dutch
Blues to support the Grenadiers, with the
reserve regiments of General Douglas, Briga-
dier Stuart, Lord Meath, Lord Lisburn and,
last of all, the Black Brandenburgers.
Before the enemy could reach the covered
way many of their officers and men had fallen.
Captain Farlow, of Stuart's regiment, who had
taken possession of Dublin Castle after the
Battle of the Boyne, and Captain Carlisle, of
Lord Drogheda's Grenadiers, were both slain
there fighting gallantly.
Our men fought bravely in the covered way,
but were soon overcome by the Grenadiers,
and retreated by the breach into the town.
174 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
The Grenadiers rashly followed through
the breach, and some were met with a storm
of cannister and chain shot from the batteries
placed around it, while others pursued our
men through John Street and Broad Street
towards Ball's Bridge, only to be cut off and
slaughtered.
Now the Prince of Orange ordered an
attack upon the breach to be made in full
force, and then followed a struggle so sublime
in all the qualities of bravery and endurance
that I can scarcely recall it now without
emotion.
For three long hours we engaged the enemy's
battalions. We defended the open breach
in spite of the awful fire poured in upon us by
the moving masses that were pouring towards
the wall.
It was shoulder to shoulder all the time,
and as a comrade dropped with a ghastly
cry another brave man from behind would
step into his place. Our front ranks were
being mowed down by the murderous assault,
for regiment after regiment was being hurled
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 175
upon the breach, and finally we began to
give way, and the enemy broke at last within
the walls.
The supreme moment had now come and
Sarsfield ordered up the reserve.
These men, fresh and eager for the conflict,
burst like an avalanche upon the foe and
swept them clean out of the streets, hurling
them back across the breach.
Every inch of ground was disputed as hand
to hand they cut and thrust and stabbed,
while all the time the music of the musketry
kept up a ceaseless roar. The very women
joined our gallant fellows and boldly stood
upon the breach hurling stones and bottles
at the foe.
Still fresh troops of the enemy came on
and tried again to burst their way across.
It was during this terrific contest that a
chance was given to me to decide the fight,
which I was not slow to take advantage of.
Sarsfield had placed me in charge of the
Black Battery, which had been carefully
176 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
mined with the intention of exploding it
should it fall into the hands of the enemy.
I remember it was some few minutes after
Brigadier Talbot had made his dashing sally
from the spur at St. John's Gate, when
sweeping with the Irish dragoons along the
covered way he burst in upon the front of
the breach taking the enemy in the rear.
This threw them into hopeless confusion,
and then my hand rang down the curtain
in that awful drama.
We had been unable, though righting to the
last man, to stem the fearful torrent of the
Black Brandenburgers, who poured in upon
the Black Battery in one dense mass.
The position was a critical one when I
suddenly remembered my orders about the
mine, and calling off my own brave boys I
fired the hidden train with my own hand.
This was the final triumph which saved
Limerick.
The Brandenburgers were crowding on the
Black Battery like bees when the explosion
came.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 177
The earth seemed to open with a roar and
vomit forth a mass of fire and stones, and half
the Brandenburger regiment was blown to
fragments.
Sarsfield now seized the moment and
charged with every man that could stand
behind the walls, and drove the shattered
enemy flying from the breach over the
counterscarp, out of the trenches and back
to their very camp.
Our triumph was complete, but the carnage
on both sides was something horrible.
The fight was over at half-past seven, and
until then there had been one constant
fire of both great and small shot without
intermission ; so that the smoke which went
up from the town reached in one continued
cloud to the top of the Keeper Mountain
at least twenty miles off.
When the enemy drew off, some of them
fell dead before reaching the camp, while
some were without a leg and some without
arms. Others of them were blind with
178 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
smoke, especially the poor Brandenburghers,
who looked like Furies with the misfortune
of the powder.
On the next day, August 28th, the Prince
of Orange sent a drummer to Governor
Boisseleau to request a truce so that the dead
might be buried.
Boisseleau granted him one hour, from
four to five in the afternoon, on condition
that his men did not come within twenty
paces of the covered way.
He told the drummer to inform the Prince
of Orange that we were prepared to give him
a good reception in a second assault still
better even than the first.
All that weary night the bombardment
continued and we stood under arms expecting
another attack ; but the Prince of Orange
had been beaten, and he knew it. For when
the sun sank upon the following day his camp
had vanished like a wreath of smoke and he
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 179
was well on his way to Waterford. And we
only saw the debris of a great army which
lay scattered round the camping ground, as
we stared in triumph from the shattered walls
of Limerick.
CHAPTER XXII.
I am Captured at Ballymore.
WHEN the Prince of Orange failed to take
Limerick, and had sailed for England,
he appointed first De Solmes, and
afterwards Ginkel, as Commander-in-chief of
his army.
From that time, however, up to the
opening of the campaign under Ginkel, the
war was only carried on in a series of small
skirmishes.
I was with General Sarsfield in Athlone
when Ginkel came to Mullingar on the ist
June, 1691, and began to set the ball rolling.
His first plan was to make a feint on
Athlone with one division of his army, and
then with the other to try and make the
passage of the Shannon at Banagher and
MeUick.
He was afraid, however, to divide his
army lest Sarsfield should leave Athlone and
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD l8l
get between him and Dublin, and perhaps
march on Dublin.
But Sarsfield had determined to stop in
Athlone until the new Commander-in-chief,
Saint Ruth, should arrive. He had garrisoned
the fort at Ballymore, which lies between
Mullingar and Athlone, with a thousand men,
under Colonel Ulick Burke, and had sent me
to assist him.
Ginkel marched from Mullingar on Sunday,
the 7th of June, and summoned Colonel Burke
to surrender.
Being refused he proceeded to bombard us,
and in order to terrify our men, hanged a
poor sergeant in full view of the fort who
had been captured with fifteen men in a
castle which they were endeavouring to
defend hard by.
After some time he sent a verbal message
to Burke saying that if Ballymore was not
surrendered in two hours he would share the
same fate as his sergeant.
Burke, in order to mark his sense of this
abominable insult, asked to have the message
l82 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
in writing, pretending to think that it must
have been wrongly delivered.
Then Ginkel wrote a letter repeating his
threat, and stating that the garrison should
have no quarter unless they surrendered as
prisoners of war.
Burke, however, demanded that he should
be allowed to march out with all the honours
of war.
Upon hearing this General Ginkel ordered
all the guns and mortars to fall to work, and
the bombs began to tear up the sandy banks
and set our men running like conies from one
hole to another.
While their cannon were battering the
works and making a breach, we did what we
could with our two guns and small shot ; but
Lieut. -Colonel Burton, our engineer, had his
hand shot off, and our works were being
knocked down rapidly.
At twelve o'clock noon we had exhausted
all our small supply of powder so we beat
a parley and hung out a white flag, and
finally surrendered at discretion.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 183
I remember the feeling of shame with which
I surrendered my sword to General Ginkel,
and the bitter thoughts which crowded my
memory as I marched that evening with the
other prisoners under a strong escort for
Lambay Island, where it was decided to
imprison us.
When we reached Dublin all our officers and
some 900 men were embarked on board ship
and landed on the island, which lies off the
east coast, and some six miles north of the
Howth peninsula.
Here you can imagine the horror of my
situation. Cut off from any further action
in the war, badly clothed, half starved and
with scarcely shelter enough to protect me
from the wind and rain. I lived for a week
with the other poor fellows ; spending most
of my time in that sickly spot gazing at the
outline of Howth Head in the distance or
the coast-line fading away towards Drogheda,
with the Mourne mountains dim and grey
upon a clear day.
I had not been landed there, however, for
184 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
twenty-four hours before plans of escape
from the island were working in my mind,
and I had even contemplated swimming to
the mainland near Donabate, some two and
a half miles away, when an opportunity
occurred for making a dash for freedom I
was not slow to avail myself of.
Four days after our arrival a Colonel Trafford
was sent out by the garrison in Dublin to
inspect the prisoners on the island, and the
day being clear and warm he had come over
from Howth in a small rowing boat, which
landed at a place which the soldiers had nick-
named " Ginkel's Cove."
This small creek was some distance to the
south of the castle in which the officers had
been confined, and when I saw from my
window the little boat come gliding in I
called my friend, Captain Halloran, and
pointed out the new arrival.
' Would you care to escape ? " I whispered.
I remember how his blue eyes lit up at the
thought of an adventure and a dash for
freedom from this cursed island, and in half
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 185
an hour I had worked out the following
desperate plan.
When the guard outside the castle had
been changed for the night, and the rest of
the prisoners had sunk to sleep, we were to
try and pass the sentry who was pacing
generally to and fro at some twenty yards
outside the main entrance.
By letting ourselves down from the back
window, which was close to the earth, we
were to steal through the darkness and try
to round him. Then after that to go straight
on towards " Ginkel's Cove," find the boat
and row for Howth before the alarm was
raised. The only weapon I could get was
the leg of a broken chair which we-jiound in
a corner of the room, and for the rest we must
trust to good fortune, and pray for a pitch
black night.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Escape from Lambay.
THE evening set in at last, and we saw
that the brightness of night would be
against us. The great stars shone down
undimmed by any clouds, scarcely a breath
of wind stirred, and the sea in front of us
stretched like a sheet of glass towards Howth,
where I could see a few lights twinkling
faintly through the darkness.
It must have been close to midnight when
Halloran and I dropped from the back
window and glided in and out among the trees
in this part of the island, and were gradually
getting round the half-sleeping sentry, who
was leaning against a tree trunk, and ap-
parently unconscious of our approach.
We had come almost to a level with him
when I suddenly tripped against the root of a
tree, and he started and turned and saw us.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 187
He flashed his musket at us across the space
to give the alarm, and then turned and went
for us as we dashed out of the clearing for
the path leading to the sea.
He tried to club me as I passed, but I gave
him the leg of that chair across the skull and
he fell back with a cry that echoed far into the
night, and Halloran stooped down for a
moment and took away his pistol.
We were clear now and running hard for
our lives towards Ginkel's Cove, with the
awakened guards after us and screeching like
demons on our track.
We reached the Cove at last and found the
boat drawn up for some distance on the shore,
and putting our shoulders to it shoved it
out into deep water. .
Halloran had got into the stern, and I was
in the act of following when our pursuers
streamed into the open, and one man faster
than the rest could scarcely have been ten
yards behind me when I sprang in. The fellow
raised a fearful howl, rushed into the water
after us, and had^, almost placed his hand on
l88 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
the nose of our boat when Halloran raised
the captured pistol of the sentinel and shot
him through the head.
I can see him throwing up his hands and
falling now. I can see the shouting figures
close behind him on the beach, and then in
a kind of horrid dream I hear the oars creaking
in the row-locks as we draw slowly out to
freedom.
As we bent our backs to the oars and shot
the boat through the still waters some of the
late arrivals, who were fully armed, wasted a
few musket shots on our rapidly disappearing
barque.
We can hardly have been five hundred
yards from the island when the boom of a
signal gun floated across the water.
' What are they trying now ? " Halloran
asked.
' To alarm the mainland," I answered,
" that two of the prisoners have outwitted
them."
" Mightn't it be something else," my com-
panion whispered hoarsely, and suddenly
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 189
pointed with his right hand across the
darkness.
I looked in that direction and my heart
stood still.
A fully rigged ship (an English frigate as it
turned out afterwards) was standing in the
direction of Ireland's Eye, but making little
progress owing to the lightness of the wind.
As I gazed at her in consternation a flash
broke from her bow, and the boom of a gun
woke the vast solitude round us.
" She's answering the island," Halloran
said, faintly.
" Cheer up, and row hard," I answered,
' they may miss our speck of a boat in the
darkness," and I swung to my oar with a
fierce determination.
They had not missed us, however, for the
clearness of the star-lit night had exposed
our cockle-shell in the midst of the ocean,
and the gun spoke a second time from the
ship and a cannon ball plumped into the sea
some fifty yards in front of us.
IQO MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
On we pulled fiercely, the soft night air
fanning our heated faces as we raced for life
and freedom towards the trembling lights at
Howth. Again I saw a flash from the vessel,
and this time the ball passed over our heads
and dropped into the sea far beyond.
Then the horrible thing happened that I
had been waiting for. The strange vessel
seemed to stop for a moment on her course
and then yaw, and I saw clearly that they
had let down one of their boats with the
intention of cutting us off before we reached
the mainland.
On, on we pulled through the night, with
the strange boat coming nearer every moment.
We had the advantage in lightness, but our
pursuers in the number of oars, which I
could see flashing under the stars as the boat
came nearer and nearer.
There were three oars on each side and a
helmsman, while a sailor was seated in the
bow with his musket ready.
It had been a long chase and hope was still
bright within me, for it was not until we
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passed under the eastern point of Ireland's
Eye that they had come close enough for me
to see the sailor in the bow.
At this point, however, poor Halloran
began to tire, and I noticed that his strokes
were becoming feeble and short, and that the
boat behind was now drawing up upon us
hand over hand.
We were now almost in.
I glanced back once and saw the thin line
of gentle foam that fringed the coast, and
caught a glimpse of the old abbey on the
cliff. Then I called upon Halloran for a last
effort, and right nobly did the gallant soldier
respond.
I doubt if we were more than ten yards
from the shore when the sailor in the bow of
the ship's boat rose up and took a steady aim.
I saw the flash of his musket, and heard a
report that seemed to stun my ears, and the
next moment Halloran had thrown up both
arms and had toppled helplessly backwards
into the bottom of the boat.
IQ2 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
As he raised his dying eyes to mine, I
caught his hand and clasped it. '
" I did my best, O'Hara," he murmured
faintly, and the next moment had passed
to his Maker.
I dropped the poor dead hand and sprang
from the boat. The water was scarcely up
to my knees and the shore only a few yards
away, but the few moments' delay after their
musket bullet had found its billet had brought
the hounds upon me.
As I touched the shore their boat shot in
and grounded on the shingle behind me, and
as I fled up the beach they were out and after
me in a wonderfully quick way for sailors.
I reached the road underneath the abbey
and shot away to the right, with the whole
body of the mariners after me. On, on I
ran as only a man can run who has a touch
of the cold fear of death.
I must have covered about a quarter of a
mile when I turned suddenly to the left and
hid myself behind some thick foliage near
the entrance to the St. Lawrence estate.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
In a flash the men came tearing past me,
and as I sank back for a few moments' rest
before proceeding further, I could catch their
footsteps dying away faintly in the direction
of Sutton.
I rose at last and continued my journey up
the hill and through the estate of the St.
Lawrence's, and at length half dead with
fatigue I found myself on the summit and
near the ancient Cromlech. Creeping under-
neath this record of the ages I sank at last
triumphant into a deep, sweet slumber.
When the morning dawned and I awoke at
last refreshed but rather hungry, a scene of
exquisite beauty stretched around me.
To the right I caught sight of the city of
Dublin with the spire of St. Audoen's rising
up faintly from the walled portion of the town.
Then southwards I could trace a living
map of Dublin and Wicklow lying clear and
fair under the summer sun ; the fishing village
of Dunleary, the Isle of Dalkey, with the
long sweep of Killiney Bay ending with the
194 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
bold promontory of Bray Head ; and dimly
beyond that the long, thin line of Wicklow
Head stretching out into the ocean.
I now passed cautiously down along the
Dublin side of Howth Head and then past the
old church of Kilbarrick. I obtained some
breakfast from a peasant near here, and then
remembering that my friend, Capt. Marshall,
who had befriended me near Monasterboice
was stationed near Bray, I determined to
pay him a visit before rejoining my comrades
in the West.
That night I skirted the city of Dublin,
and after a detour of some fifteen miles I
found myself passing through the village of
Bray when the dawn was breaking.
At the top of the hill I turned to the right
and took the road which leads the traveller
to the Glen of the Downs. Captain Marshall's
house stood far back from this road and the
back of the building faced the little sugar-
loaf mountain ; or, to give it the beautiful
name that the Irish have christened it, one
of the * Golden Spears."
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD IQ5
The house was square and ugly to behold.
It was a building of the type which rose up
all over Ireland after the Cromwellian con-
fiscations ; for the first act of the Cromwellian
settlers, after robbing the land of Irish
Catholics who had been fighting for the
lawful King of England, was to erect these
country houses, together with churches of
peculiar hideousness to worship God in.
These churches are scattered far and wide
across the land rare monuments to the zeal
and piety of the Irish Protestant and to his
shocking taste in architecture. When I at
length reached the house a hearty welcome
awaited me, but I found my old friend
greatly changed in appearance. His wife,
to whom I was soon introduced, struck me as
a pretty little butterfly of a woman with not
much in her, and it was plain that the re-
lations between her and her husband were
not particularly happy.
Captain Marshall wore a continual worried
look, as if in constant dread of some hidden
fear, and his wife informed me later on that
196 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
his life had been recently attempted by a
peasant in the Glen of the Downs.
That was all I knew about it when I came
to the house. I was soon to know more.
My first week now passed pleasantly away,
and the long walks I took with Marshall, and
the change of air, were rapidly restoring me
to my old self.
We visited all the beauty-spots in the
golden belt of Ireland that lovely district
which extends about thirty miles in length
and from four to seven in width, beginning
near Dublin, and ending at a short distance
beyond Avondale. But the walk we loved
best of all was through old Kilruddery
towards the summit of Bray Head. As the
traveller advances towards the top a glorious
view is seen.
Far away on the right is a wide stretch of
ocean, and as the eye sweeps round to the
left it encounters the promontory of Howth,
the little island of Dalkey and the grand
sweep of Killiney Bay. All this makes a
panorama not easily forgotten. As we passed
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 197
over the summit and continued our walk
towards the south I caught a glimpse through
a thinly grown forest of trees of the blue
ocean sparkling in the morning sun ; while
farther on, down the green slopes of the
Head, I could see the waves bursting upon
the rocks in showers of angry foam. Towards
the right I saw the white walls of a few
fishermen's cottages, which make up the
village of Greystones, and beyond these more
sea and a grayish-blue sky with some soft
clouds white as wool floating away to the
west ; while far away to the south I could
see Wicklow Head faintly stretching out
into the ocean. In short, one of the loveliest
walks in the fairest county of Ireland, where
the rich foliage and different shades of green
give one so many scenes of unsurpassable
beauty.
On our return home I noticed my com-
panion constantly glancing behind him, and
at one time we were certainly being dogged
by a peasant, who, however, kept a safe
distance from us until, we crossed the Bray
198 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
road. At this point he disappeared, and I
thought no more about the incident.
Saturday night now came round a night
to be long remembered. A beautiful moon
lit up the countryside, and through the clear
night air the little sugar-loaf seemed crowned
with stars. Captain Marshall and I chatted
late in my bedroom, and it must have been
long past twelve when he bade me good-
night.
The night being warm and pleasant I had
left my window fully open, and undressing
now in the bright moonlight I crept into my
bed in the corner of the room and was soon
in a happy slumber.
Later on I was awakened by a noise out-
side my window, as if someone was placing
a ladder against the stonework and shifting
it into a steady position.
My bedroom occupied the second storey.
Directly above me was the small room Captain
Marshall occupied, at some distance from
his wife's bedroom, which was at the end of
the corridor. I could often hear him pacing
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 199
to and fro above me as if his restless spirit
had sought in vain for peace. But to-night
all was silent as death. The rioise outside
continued, and then I could hear plainly the
footsteps of someone coming up the rungs
of the ladder slowly, tap, tap, tap, on the
clear night air.
Terror now took hold of me and held me
for a moment in her cruel grip as I stared
helplessly towards the window waiting for
the inevitable. A man's shock head of hair
suddenly appeared over the edge of the
windowsill, and then a fierce wild-looking
face glared in upon my bed. It was dark
in the corner where I lay, but the man's
face was clear in the moonlight as he searched
every corner of the room. I now recovered
my usual nerve, and springing from the bed
I rushed towards the intruder. I remember
his hand going back above his head and
something heavy swinging across my fore-
head. Then the ladder was suddenly re-
moved, and after that I must have fallen
insensible, for I remember no more.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Cry in the Night.
I could never tell how long I lay in that
death-like state. When I came to my-
self the moonlight still flooded the room
like day, and overhead I now heard Captain
Marshall's footsteps moving to and fro, to
and fro, like some caged animal in pain.
Then all of a sudden came the sound of
smashing glass and of heavy footsteps dashing
across the room ; then one long-drawn horrid
scream that turned my heart to ice, and the
sound of a heavy body falling on the floor.
I lay there helpless as if my whole body was
paralyzed. I heard steps again moving in
the room above, and then silence reigned
throughout the house. None of the other
inmates stirred, for the walls and doors were
thick, and the death shriek had only reached
me in the room below.
I lay there staring vacantly about me,
when a drop of something warm fell upon
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 2OI
my cheek. I looked upwards now and saw
a dark circle on the ceiling above me, slowly
widening like ink on blotting paper, and then
the drops fell slowly upon me like rain.
I now started bolt-upright and saw the
crimson horror on my night-shirt and my
hands, and then I suppose from weakness
and from shock I lapsed into insensibility
again. When I came to myself I was still
lying on the floor, but my head was resting
on old Patrick Nolan's knee, who was holding
a candle above me, while the housemaid was
bathing my head with cold water. I must
have cried out before I fainted, for the butler
had been startled from his sleep in the room
adjoining and had come in to see if anything
was wrong. When I had sufficiently re-
covered I told them all, and old Nolan went
upstairs and broke in the door of the master's
room. He found Captain Marshall lying in
a pool of blood, and with a knife through his
heart.
The murderer, who was supposed to have
done this deed in revenge for a bitter wrong
202 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
done to a member of his family, was never
caught, and the secret that weighed so
heavily on Captain Marshall's conscience
must remain for ever shrouded in mystery.
For my part it took many a long day to soothe
the memories of that dreadful night ; and
the worst dreams that ever I have are those
which make me start upright in bed to listen
in the darkness for the sound of a body
falling heavily on the floor above. Then I
feel the warm drops on my face again, and
see against a background of vivid whiteness
the increasing circle of the darkening stain.
CHAPTER XXV.
Days of Shadow.
WHEN the funeral was over I remained
some three weeks longer at Mrs-
Marshall's until the wound in my
forehead was fairly recovered.
At the close of the third week I decided,
however, to set out at once for the West, as
I found that the widow (in whose company
Iwas constantly forced to find myself) was
making the most constant advances towards
me in spite of her weeds.
It would ill become me to blame Mrs.
Marshall harshly in this matter. She had
never, I think, really cared for her husband,
and now here was a soldier not merely good
looking and of proved bravery but with an
address which would have been fatally fascin-
ating to most women.
On the afternoon, however, when she first
made open love to me in the shrubbery, she
2O4 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
provoked in me a full measure of disgust.
For it seemed to me to show a real want of
decency on her part, considering the fact
that her late husband had been scarcely
three weeks buried.
On that morning, therefore, I proceeded
on my way towards the West, determined
to rejoin Sarsfield as quickly as my legs could
cover the distance.
I skirted Dublin on the south, passing by
the village of Rathfarnham and on through
the beautiful country round Maynooth, where
I rested for that night. Next day I con-
tinued to Edenderry, and on the two following
days to Ballycumber and the Seven Churches
on the Shannon some few miles below Athlone.
As I crossed here by ferry on the evening
of my arrival I could catch the faint booming
of guns along the bosom of the river.
I now marched steadily towards Athlone,
and as I approached the town a horseman
came riding towards me at full speed.
I recognized him as O'Toole of Sarsfield's
Horse on his way with dispatches from Saint
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 2O5
Ruth (the new French General whom King
James had sent over to command the Irish
army, and who also was the bearer to Sars-
field of his title of " The Earl of Lucan,"
which had been conferred upon him by the
King).
I asked OToole what guns were booming
along the Shannon.
' The siege-guns of Ginkel," he cried out,
' which are playing upon the walls and
battlements of Athlone." Then he plunged
his spurs into his charger and disappeared
along the dusty road towards Ballinasloe.
On entering Athlone the first friend I met
with was Captain O'Reilly, who had fought
with me through the Derry campaign. He
was not only honoured by us as a brave
soldier, but as the son of Myles the Slasher
of Finea Bridge fame.
When I had refreshed myself at his house
after my long journey, he told me all the
news of the day.
" And we hear from Limerick," said he,
" that Mademoiselle Delamarque is engaged
at last."
206 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
" Engaged to whom ? " I cried.
" To Captain Dudley," he said, playing
awkwardly with his sword-hilt, for I think
that he had guessed my secret pretty well.
I said nothing more but turned and left
the room, wishing, as he rightly guessed,
to be alone with my own sad thoughts.
Though the news was proved afterwards
to be false, and had been circulated by that
scoundrel Dudley to annoy me, it was many
a weary day before I learned the truth. I
remember how this story of Moira's faith-
lessness nearly wounded me to death.
I remember walking up and down the back
garden of O'Reilly's house that night with
the sweet summer darkness falling like balm
around me, and the great stars in their stead-
fast travel wheeling above my head. What
will it all matter, I thought, in a few short
years, this bitter heart-burning, this un-
fulfilled desire.
It must have been close on eleven o'clock
when O'Reilly came out to me and put his
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
arm through mine. I think he could read
my very thoughts and I know he could feel
my pain.
" Come in, you foolish dreamer," he said,
tenderly ; " Sarsfield has been asking about
you for the last half hour."
I stood there looking upwards through a
mist of tears a weak foolish dreamer indeed,
with his spirit roaming among the stars ;
dreary, desolate, forsaken ; himself standing
upon a star.
CHAPTER XXVI.
The Bridge at Athlone.
WHEN I arrived in Athlone I found that
Ginkel had already captured the
English portion of the town which lay
on the far side of the river, and that our
forces had retreated into the Irish town on
the Connaught side and had cut the enemy
off by destroying two arches of the bridge
across the Shannon.
On the 22nd of June Ginkel opened fire on
the Castle and the walls of the Irish town,
and so fierce was the bombardment that he
practically battered down the whole of the
Castle which lay next the river, so that our
men had to make a new entrance at the back
to pass in and out by.
By the 26th of June the fire from the seven
batteries of the enemy had driven us from
our trenches by the river and had ruined
most of the houses that were as yet left
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 2OQ
standing. The cannonade had been so con-
tinuous and so furious that a cat could scarce
appear without being knocked on the head
by a great or small shot.
Ginkel now resolved to storm the town by
forcing a passage across the bridge.
His men had already repaired the broken
arch on their side of the Shannon, and now
that we had been driven from our breast-
works they were able to repair the last broken
arch by laying beams across, and then planks
on top of these.
When the enemy were on the point of
crossing the bridge, Sergeant Custume, of
Maxwell's dragoons, stepped up to Saint
Ruth and volunteered to smash down the
plank bridge with any other men who would
dare the risk.
In a few moments the gallant soldier
collected ten brave comrades, who advanced
across the bridge in the full face of the
deadly fire poured in upon them by the
enemy. Many of them fell, but the few left
standing continued the noble task. All the
210 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
newly-laid planks were torn up and cast into
the river and then the huge beams were
attacked with axe and saw. Before these
could be severed and cast into the stream
gallant Custume and his ten comrades had
died.
Fresh volunteers were called for to complete
the task, and catching up one of the axes I
sprang towards the bridge, many other noble
fellows following hard upon my heels.
Amidst that hail of death which Ginkel
kept pouring in upon us we hacked and sawed
and smashed. The great beams commenced
to yield, but the volunteers were falling like
corn before the sickle, and as the last beam
began to quiver there were only three of us
left upon the bridge.
As the last beam groaned and fell, a piece of
falling timber struck me sideways and I was
hurled over the side of the bridge down into
the depths of the rushing Shannon.
I rose to the surface half choked with water
and struck out boldly for the Irish bank of
the river, but the current was too powerful
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 211
for me, and I was whirled down along with
masses of floating debris from the bridge and
finally cast on shore far below the confines
of the town.
I crawled out on the bank and lay down
worn out with weakness and the shock of my
immersion, and was discovered two hours
afterwards by a kindly peasant, who conveyed
me on his cart to Ballinasloe.
I lay there for three days in a state of
complete collapse, and I was beginning to
recover my old strength again when a messen-
ger from Patrick Sarsfield (for we who loved
him loved the old name best and seldom
called him Earl of Lucan) came to tell me
that Athlone had been captured by Ginkel,
owing to the vanity and folly of Saint Ruth.
That night our retreating army came
pouring into Ballinasloe, wounded and tired,
and despondent at the loss of Athlone.
A week after that, when I was completely
recovered and had left my bed, General
Sarsfield, who had heard of my adventures,
212 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
presented me to the Commander-in-chief in
the following words, which, I think, represent
my character pretty fairly :
" Let me present to you," says he, turning
to Saint Ruth, " Colonel Phelim O'Hara, of
Sarsfield's Horse a gallant soldier of King
James, and a man of infinite resource."
CHAPTER XXVII.
The Battle of Aughrim.
OUR entire army now retired from Ballina-
sloe and crossing the River Suck took
up a position behind it. Saint Ruth,
while waiting to see what move Ginkel would
make next from Athlone, rode out with
Sarsfield and others to inspect the surrounding
country, and finding a strong position at
Aughrim, some four miles south-west of'
Ballinasloe, he ordered us to move there and
encamp.
General Ginkel marched from Athlone on
Friday, the loth, and during the next day
reached Ballinasloe, and was facing us at
Aughrim on the afternoon of the i2th of July.
During the great battle which followed I
never drew my sword until the close of day,
for I was stationed at the back of the Hill of
Kilcommodon with the reserve cavalry under
Sarsfield, vvho had been placed here owing to
the bitter jealousy of Saint Ruth.
214 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
The position of our army had been
admirably chosen on the side of the Hill of
Kilcommodon, which sloped up from a boggy
valley.
Our lines extended for a mile and a half
along the slope of a hill, and the bogs in front
made a cavalry charge impossible for the
enemy and an infantry attack difficult. In
front of our line a small river ran which
increased the defensive character of the
position.
Our right wing extended beyond the hill
where there was firm ground on both sides of
the river, while our left wing rested on the
Castle fcf Aughrim, beyond which lay a vast
bog.
Saint Ruth had entrenched his position
and had made every possible use of the natural
state of the ground. The two armies were
equally matched, consisting each of about
20,000 men.
The battle commenced at five in the after-
noon, and the enemy's Foot advanced over
the boggy land and tried to storm our works.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 215
But again and again they were driven back
with deadly loss. Once they were broken
in pieces and our men chased them back
across the morass, where they again rallied.
The fight had now lasted two hours and
the shades of evening were closing in with all
the advantage on our side.
Saint Ruth was firmly convinced that the
day was won, for, waving his hat in the air,
he cried out across the ranks, " The day is
ours, my boys, we will drive them before us
to the gates of Dublin."
It was at this point of battle, I remember,
that General Sarsfield sent me forward with a
message to Saint Ruth about the movement
of our cavalry, and finding our Commander in
a triumphant mood I ventured good-naturedly
to express my opinion about his neglect of
Sarsfield in making no use of his great services
in the battle.
" May a plain soldier, General," said I
(referring, of course, to the bluntness of my
speech), " tell you clearly that the back of
Kilcommodon Hill is the last spot on God's
2l6 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
earth where you should have left the Earl of
Lucan ! "
Saint Ruth turned on me like a wild beast.
" May I ask, Colonel O'Hara," says he,
" do I command the Irish or do you ? " and
then, I think (for my knowledge of the
French tongue was still in the embryo stage),
that he told me to go to a place which Crom-
wellians have often suggested as an alternative
to Connaught.
But to whatever place he may have con-
signed me I knew that his answer was insolent,
and I determined to show him how a Con-
naught gentleman could reply to a French
barbarian.
I was in the act of giving him an answer
that would have stiffened him in his saddle,
when a cannon ball came suddenly and took
off his head ; by which our army lost a very
capable commander and I the chance of a
powerful repartee.
The following story of that fatal shot was
told to me afterwards in Limerick.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 217
On the day before the battle an Irish
squireen, called O'Kelly, had some sheep
stolen from him by some of Saint Ruth's
soldiers.
This man and his shepherd came to the
General to complain, but he told them that
it was wrong to grumble at such a small loss
when the soldiers were fighting for the cause
of Ireland. The man then persisted in his
complaint, and Saint Ruth threatened to
hang him.
The enraged squireen then turning to" his
shepherd said in our Irish tongue, " Mark
the General ! "
The two then departed, and crossing to the
enemy's camp gave themselves up to General
Ginkel, who hearing their story sent them on
to an artilleryman named Trench, saying
that these men might show him a mark worth
shooting at.
Just before Saint Ruth was killed Trench
was in one of the batteries on the Aughrim
side with the two men beside him.
2l8 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
As Saint Ruth was standing on the slope
the shepherd cried out in Irish, " Master I
see the Frenchman ! >;
O' Kelly translated the words to .the
artillery-man, who asked, " Where is he ? "
" There," answered the shepherd, " as fine
as a bandsman in front of those Horse "
(referring to the brilliancy of our General's
uniform and medals) .
Trench then laid the gun, sighted for Saint
Ruth, and fired.
When the smoke cleared away the
artillery-man cried out, " Is the Frenchman
hit ? "
" He's on his horse yet," answered the
shepherd. ' You've only blown the hat off
him," and then added, " No ! by God, but
the head's in it too, for I see them rolling
down the hill ! "
But at any rate, no matter how that shot
may have been fired, it was from the time
of Saint Ruth's death that our disasters began.
Major-General Mackay now succeeded in
turning our left flank by breaking through the
pass at Aughrim Castle.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
All our gallant fellows who had fought so
bravely seemed to become paralysed and
finally broke and fled.
The carnage which followed was something
horrible, for the retreat developed into a
sauve qui pent, and no quarter was given.
Sarsfield and I with the reserve Horse
protected the Foot to the best of our ability,
but scarcely a man would have escaped only
for the darkness of the night.
Afterwards, on the field of battle alone, the
dead bodies of four thousand of our men were
counted, and from a hill near the battlefield
over an extent of nearly four miles, the
country could be seen white with the bodies
of the slain.
All that night the retreat rolled on, and
when the sun rose at last over Aughrim it
shone down upon the shattered weapons,
the trampled banners, and the dead heroes
of King James's lost cause.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Men call it Chance.
IN the darkness of the night during that
terrible retreat I found myself separated
from the main body of horse under
Sarsfield.
When the dawn broke I found myself close
to a place called Portumna, and some miles
above this, where the Shannon narrows, I
swam my tired horse across the river.
The animal I rode was but a weak sort of
quadruped after all, and my neck had been
in constant danger from the way he had
stumbled through the night. So it was but
little wonder that I often thought with bitter
regret of my darling Ballyglunin who was
slain beside the Boyne.
I rode southwards along the banks of the
river, the keen morning air increasing the
pangs of hunger from which I was suffering,
so that it was with peculiar relish that I
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 221
devoured a simple meal obtained in a peasant's
cottage close to Ballinderry, while my horse
took his breakfast from the long grass around
the place.
All that day I continued slowly riding
southwards, and the evening was falling as I
passed some miles west of Nenagh and
advanced towards the village of Killaloe.
When I came within a mile of the bridge
which spans the stately Shannon, the night
had fallen black as pitch, and it was with a
tremendous joy I caught sight of a camp
fire rising up among the trees on my right.
For I had little doubt at first that they
must be some of our men from Limerick who
were out reconnoitring.
As I approached nearer, however, a sus-
picion seized me, and tying my horse to a
tree I stole stealthily forward.
As I came up to where their horses were
tethered I could see clearly into the group of
men gathered round the fire, and in another
moment I had dropped horror-stricken on my
222 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
knees, for I recognised them as a portion of
Lanier's Horse in which the traitor Dudley
had served before Limerick.
I sank down into the long grass and was
creeping stealthily away when some part of
my uniform must have glittered in the long
rays which the fire threw around, or some
sentry must have seen me, for with a yell
that sounded in my ears like a chorus of
demons they sprang to where I was gliding
away, and before I could rise from my stooping
posture, and to the occasion, they had sur-
rounded me, and I saw that my case was
hopeless.
There was a space, however, between two
of them in the direction of the river, and I
drew my sword and made a dash for this.
But my strength was gone, and my luck
was gone, for one of the fellows struck my
sword up, while three of them fell upon me
from behind and dragged me struggling to
the earth.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 223
Then they led me towards a little hut
some hundred yards away to their officer in
command.
There was only one thing wanting to com-
plete my wretchedness, and it came to me
like a blow as the door was swung open and
the light that blazed forth from the back of
the room showed me the well-known face of
Captain Dudley. I knew that he had com-
manded some of Lanier's men in the famous
siege, but, oh, what cruel fate had placed me
in the hands of such an enemy.
As one of the men who had captured me
told him how they had taken a prisoner-of-
war, his face lit up cruelly as he recognised me.
" Not a prisoner-of-war, sergeant," he
answered coldly, " but a spy I know him
well O'Hara, the spy who pretended to be
one of us, and who gave General Sarsfield the
fatal information about King William's siege
train. Lock him up in the stable near the
Bridge and guard him well."
Having uttered the foul lie he went back
into the hut and wrote out an order on a
224 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
piece of paper which he handed to the man.
" See that he is shot to-morrow, sergeant,
at the break of day," says the pleasant fellow,
and giving me a look of cruel hate he turned
into the hut and crashed the door behind him.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A night of agony.
1AM old now and have gone through many a
fierce campaign with our gallant Brigade
of Irish exiles. I have suffered the pain
of many wounds and have lain untended
on ghastly battlefields across half Europe,
but I never remember any horror that equalled
the mental horror of waiting for the dawn to
break above the stable near the Bridge of
Killaloe.
The knowledge that I must die a traitor's
death I, who had been so faithful in every-
thing, and to whom the very thought of
treachery would set my soul on flame. To
die by this villain Dudley's hand, and with
no one probably ever to know my fate.
They had roped me in the stable to one of
the iron rings to which they tethered horses,
and my wrists were tied behind my back.
I strained at the rope which bound me to
the ring, and twisted and tore with the tips
226 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
of my fingers at my helpless wrists but
all in vain, for they had bound me strongly
and there was no escape from those cruel
thongs.
At last, overcome with exhaustion, I sank
on the ground and sobbed aloud in my despair.
Then through the long hours of agony came
remembrances of Moira, and my soul grew
calmer as I thought of that sweet influence
which had shed a kind of glory on my life.
The long night of agony moved slowly by,
and some two hours before the dawn broke,
the sergeant came into my prison with a
lantern, and set down some food near me.
" It will be your last meal on earth," said
he, brutally, " so you'd better make the most
of it," and he leered at me so that I saw his
two great side tusks gleam from his hideous
jaw.
" I'll leave you the light, too," says this
humorist, " and you'll not want for that
where you're going to," and he went out of
the stable laughing at his pretty wit, and
locking the door behind him.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 227
He had left the lantern about a yard away
from me, but the plate of food quite close,
expecting, I suppose, that I would kneel down
to the length of my tether and eat it like a
dog.
But it was freedom not food I was thinking
of as I stared away into the darkness of the
stable, and heard in the deathly stillness of
the night the tramping of the sentry outside
and the far-off murmuring of the Shannon.
Then, as my eyes returned again to the
lantern and the plate, the thought which
changed my fate came to me like a whisper
out of heaven.
CHAPTER XXX.
/ strike home.
1 STRETCHED myself to the full length of
the rope which held me to the iron ring,
and then lying down on the ground I
found that I could just catch the lantern
with my toes.
I drew it gently towards me, and when
close enough for my purpose I resumed the
upright position and pushed it with my
foot behind me.
Then with as little noise as possible I broke
the glass in front of it, and sitting down on
the ground again with my back towards it I
held my bound wrists into the burning flame.
The agony was terrible, but I kept them
there until I heard the cords spluttering, and
in a couple of moments more my hands were
free. I took up the lantern with my poor
burnt hands and held the flame against the
strong rope which bound me to the iron ring,
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
and in another two minutes I was free again
for one last burst for life and liberty.
There was no opening to the stable except
the door, for the two small barred windows
were so high up that they could not have
been reached, and even if reached, it would
have been impossible for any man to force
his way through them.
So there was nothing to do except to wait
until the humorist returned.
I replaced the lantern in the old position
and stood in front of the iron ring with my
hands clasped behind my back.
Probably half an hour passed by but it
seemed to me with my throbbing heart and
aching wrists like an eternity.
At last I heard footsteps coming near and
stopping opposite my prison ; then the rusty
key rasped in the lock, and the hideous
humorist appeared.
"Not happy enough to eat ? " said he,
glancing at the untouched food, " Well, I'll
leave you in the darkness to contract an
230 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
appetite," and he advanced towards me and
stooped down to pick up the lantern.
I did not even give the scoundrel time to
notice the broken glass of the lantern before
I fell upon him, and caught him round the
neck, hurling him on to the floor and tighten-
ing my grip upon his windpipe every moment.
As he struggled in my iron grasp he rolled
over on one side, and drawing a dagger from
his belt he tried to plunge it into my breast,
but only succeeded in burying it in my
shoulder, so that the hot blood spouted from
me and sprayed across his beard.
The next moment I released my left hand
from his throat and catching his uplifted
wrist I bent it back until I heard it crackle,
and the dagger dropped upon the floor as
he gave one long-drawn yell.
I clutched the dripping, hideous thing and
buried it in his side, and then drawing it out
I stabbed him again and again above the
heart, panting at every blow.
"
I rose up blinded with the crimson blood
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 23!
and still clutching the dagger in my hand ;
and as I leaned for a moment against the wall
and listened, I heard the alarm being given
by the sentry outside and the sound of some-
one running towards the door.
CHAPTER XXXI.
/ reach the desired haven.
1WAS out of that accursed place and
flying in the darkness towards the river
when the sentry flashed his musket at
me, and the group of men around the camp
fire ran round to cut me off from reaching
the Bridge, while another party were coming
up on my left.
There was nothing for me, then, but the
Shannon, whose dark waters rolled rapidly
in front, and so with a prayer to God to bear
me to some safe abiding place, I sprang into
the river as the foiled demons came roaring
on my track.
I was whirled along by the rushing waters,
but struck bravely out for the opposite bank,
and as I approached my destination I could
catch a glimpse through the darkness of the
curling foam of the rapids which lie some
distance below the Bridge.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 233
I struggled on in spite of my wounded
shoulder, determined to let nothing dismay
me, and my old strength and fire seemed to
rise again within me as I flung myself at last
upon the opposite shore.
A number of my pursuers had gone round
by the Bridge, and I could hear them calling
to one another along the banks in the dark-
ness ; but the stream had carried me far
below the point where they were searching,
and so I rested for a few moments before I
set out on the road for Limerick.
Then I ran on through the darkness until
I had left Killaloe far behind, and I kept
from the beaten track in case they should
haye pursued me on horseback.
I used to stop every few minutes to listen
in a kind of agony, but could hear nothing
round me but the twittering of the birds who
were heralding with their sweet song the
coming day.
I was leaning against a tree by the side of a
meadow to recruit my tired limbs when a
long arm was passed suddenly down between
234 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
the branches and a hand gripped me by the
throat !
I was struggling to free myself when a voice
(which sounded like music in my ears) called
me by name, and the next moment the grip
on my throat was relaxed, and O'Toole, of
Sarsfield's Horse, glided down the tree and
clasped me by the hand.
" O'Hara, by all that's wonderful," said he.
" Sure I thought you were lying dead at
Aughrim and what murders have you been
committing, my boy ? ' he added, as he
caught sight of my blood-stained face.
I then told him about my capture and
escape and all about the death of the hideous
sergeant.
' By killing a humorist with such a face,"
said O'Toole, " I consider you have rendered
a service to society. But the poor man, after
all, was only obeying his officer's commands,
and the real person to have got your dagger
into was that English traitor, Dudley."
Then he paused for a moment and muttered
" Traitors "and then added bitterly "I'm
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 235
afraid we Irish can't throw many stones in
that direction anyhow."
I knew well enough what he was thinking
of. For during that awful retreat from
Aughrim, rumours that the Pass beside the
Castle had been sold to the enemy were
circulated freely amongst us, while the name
of the infamous Luttrell was on every lip.
O'Toole then told me that he was making
his way to Limerick with a body of our own
Horse when, the sound of the musket-firing
at Killaloe alarming him, he had climbed up
into the tree to reconnoitre, and was coming
down again to earth when he caught sight of
my dilapidated figure. I therefore gladly
joined him and we proceeded together to
Limerick.
The day had now fully broken far off behind
the Keeper Mountain that day which I was
never to have seen, but which would have
looked down in tranquil splendour on my
poor body riddled with the bullets of Lanier's
men at the command of that arch-traitor,
Dudley.
236 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
Some years after I paid him in full the debt
I owed him in a skirmish before the famous
fight at Landen ; and I must say that for
such a villain he died in gallant fashion.
I continued my journey with OToole along
the river banks, and at noon that day, scarcely
able to drag myself across old Thomond
Bridge, I passed once more within the walls
of Limerick city.
CHAPTER XXXII.
Moira's Fate.
I DO not intend to sadden you with a
further account of that terrible retreat
of the remainder of our army from
Aughrim, or the last great stand we made at
Limerick under the gallant Sarsfield, except
to mention my affair at Thomond Bridge.
We had all gallantly resisted Ginkel's hot
assault from the Clare side, but being obliged
finally to retreat along Thomond Bridge, I
was horrified to see that the French com-
mander in charge of the gate, fearful lest the
enemy should pour in after us, had actually
raised the drawbridge too soon.
Pressed by an enormously superior force,
I found myself with several hundreds cut
hopelessly off from the town. Remembering
Aughrim and the kind of quarter we might
expect from the English, I ordered my com-
pany to throw themselves into the river and
238 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
try and reach the shore in safety. The
remainder of our men who asked for quarter
were all slaughtered by the English, and
before the killing was over they were laid on
heaps upon the bridge and higher than the
ridges of it.
I (and several of my comrades) reached
the Limerick shore in safety, and this terrible
incident was remembered long afterwards in
the city as one of the many events in which
I nearly lost my life.
You have heard about the capitulation and
the famous treaty a treaty, by the way,
which I ought to know something about, as
General Sarsfield consulted me upon every
point of importance, and the rest of the
famous men around him used to hang upon
my every word.
But why trouble about my share in that
great transaction.
You know how the English broke their
faith when they found it safe to do so, and
you have learned at last (at what a bitter
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 239
cost) to understand the value of English
honour.
After the treaty was signed I decided to
take my place beside Sarsfield and the
majority of our soldiers, and to serve under
the banner of the King of France.
I had been informed in Limerick by friends
of Moira Delamarque that she had left Dublin
for Cork since her father's death in a skirmish
near Youghal, but had made arrangements
to settle down finally at Limerick when the
immediate horrors of the war had passed
away.
You can guess that my mind was ill at
ease at this announcement, nor was my
anxiety diminished upon hearing a couple of
days later from one of Ginkel's officers that
Captain Dudley had obtained special per-
mission to leave for Cork on a matter off
extreme private importance.
That afternoon I obtained General Sars-
field's permission to set out for the South, and
next day when the sunset was flooding the
river Lee with a crimson shaft of glory and
240 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
the windows in Patrick Street were flashing
back reflections in the calm autumn evening,
I rode up to the well-remembered house and
inquired for my little friend.
She was engaged, the man told me, but
would, no doubt, be glad if I would wait.
I informed the servant in my hot way that
there was no doubt about the matter, and I
was proceeding to question him further when
the curtains of the room at the far end of the
hall swung backwards and Captain Dudley
strode out.
His face was flushed with anger, and grew
positively diabolical as he caught sight. of me
in the hall, and guessed the errand I had come
on.
As he reached the. hall-door he turned
round upon me fiercely.
" If you win," he cried out in his high
screaming English accent that goes through
one like a saw, " if you win, Colonel, you have
my faithful promise to take care of your
widow," and with that he bounded down the
steps, slamming the door behind him.
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 24!
I wonder what he meant by that ? Did
he mean to hint that he would kill me if I
married Moira ?
He kill me the insolent scoundrel.
I had other things, however, of more im-
portance to think of, but, I settled his account
as you know, at Landen later on. I had
come to win the hand of the loveliest girl in
Ireland, and had no time to ponder about
staining my sword by running it through
this English traitor.
God knows it was stained enough in later
years, especially at the great battle of
Fontenoy, in 1745, when over seventy years
of age I led the right wing of the Irish Brigade
under Dillon in that glorious victory. It was
after that battle that King Louis himself
came up to me, and holding my hand for a
few moments gave vent to some manly tears.
" Tous mes Irlandais combattent en braves,
mais O'Hara a le diable au corps," says he ;
which may be translated in our Irish way
" My Irish soldiers fight like, devils, but
O'Hara is the king of demons."
242 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
But let me return to Moira Delamarque.
I swung back the curtains at the entrance
of the room and knocked firmly at the door.
Her gentle voice bade me enter, and when
I had reached the centre of the room I saw
that she was seated in the corner of the far
window, and by her eyes had evidently been
weeping bitterly. After she had bade me
welcome, I broke into the reason which had
brought me to her.
" I have come, Mademoiselle," I said (and
I confess that my voice faltered slightly),
" to tell you of a great secret which weighs
heavily upon me, and to ask for your sweet
consideration. Some few of us, as you know,
have joined the English ra'nks, but the
majority prefer a foreign service under the
banner of King Louis. I hear that you are
contemplating a return to your friends at
Limerick, and I come to offer you instead the
love of a rough soldier and an exile's fate.
Will you return to Limerick," I cried, with a
voice ringing with love and passion, "or to
France where our King has gone, where our
Faith is free ? "
MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD 243
I was proceeding with some more of this
kind of thing (which I allow I can turn out
pretty freely) when she interrupted me with
an impatient wave of the hand.
" Don't you think, Colonel O'Hara," says
she, dryly, " the less you talk about our Faith
the better ? "
I confess that she had me there, and knew
very well what she was hinting at. For the
truth is that during our long stay in Dublin
when Mass had been freely celebrated under
the regime of King James, I had very seldom
entered a place of worship, and, indeed, have
been frequently mistaken for a Protestant.
I took, however, small notice of the inter-
ruption, but repeated my question slowly
and fixed my handsome eyes upon her face.
"Is it to Limerick, Mademoiselle, or to
France ? '
At the tones of my voice a beautiful blush
crept slowly to her cheeks and increased her
perfect loveliness.
Then she rose up from her window-seat
and coming towards me with a kind of sob
244 MY SWORD FOR SARSFIELD
she held out both her little hands, and I saw
that her great brown eyes were wet with
tears.
" To France, or to the end of the world,"
she cried, " with you \ "
In love, as well as in war, we O'Haras are
irresistible.
THE END.
McDonnell, Randal William
6025 Ify sword for Sarsfield
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