“What is the hour?”
“Somewhat after three. The bell in the Cathedral struck the hour as we left the gate. ′Tis very dark.”
"And colder than frost. The wind blows from the river like a stepmother′s breath, and dries the very marrow in your bones. On my word, Orme, I thought the relief would never come. Here have I been since the last night, getting what warmth I could from the shelter of the rampart, and keeping these fellows from sleeping on guard, while my own eyes rebelled against this sentry duty and closed in spite of me. I′m sleepy, and hungry, and tired, and am going to take a lesson in swearing from wicked Will Talbot:
“Oh, roll me down the brae and walk me up the hill,
And all the while you carry me, I′m only standing still.”
“′Tis well to have a merry heart, Jack.”
“And, prithee, why should I not be merry if I choose? Who could be sad with six hours of guard in the twenty-four; a measurable quantity of meat and French butter, with a qualified modicum of very thin beer, and a chance of getting knocked on the 160head every hour in the day. Is not that enough for one man, my dear Ajax, or will nothing satisfy you? Here we have been for a fortnight at this work, and only twice have we measured swords with the red-coated ruffians yonder, who prefer to bowl us over with their long guns and bury us in the mortar yonder. This soldiering is but dull work.”
“We are like to find it brisk enough if all that I hear is true. There is talk in the camp yonder of a general onset on our position here at the Windmill, and when I left, Baker was sending a reinforcement to strengthen the guard. Have you heard aught in front?”
“Not a mouse stirring. Did I think it true, I should even snatch what sleep I could in the earthworks here, and be ready to stand by you when the knocks were going. But following the voice of wisdom for once, I′ll even go home to bed and leave you to enjoy that frosty wind by yourself. Should the attack come you′ll find me among the first.”
Giving a brief word of command to his company, the young fellow went away whistling, and left Gervase Orme to his solitary meditations as he paced up and down the rampart, peering out into the darkness, and devoutly longing for the first streak of sunrise. Windmill Hill was a post of great importance and in some measure the key of the position. The highest point of the river to the south of the city, it entirely commanded the town; and only a fortnight before the enemy had made a bold effort to drive in the guard, and entrench themselves upon 161it. In this they had failed after a stubborn resistance, and since then the position had been strengthened by throwing up a rampart that ran across the summit of the hill almost to the river. The guards had been greatly strengthened, for the recollection of the first attack had taught the garrison a salutary lesson which they could not afford to throw away. It had become a thing of vital importance that the hill should not fall into the hands of the enemy, and from some source--it was scarcely known what--they had learned that the Irish intended to attack the position in force, and make a bold push once for all, to secure it.
Six weeks of hardship had had their effect on Gervase Orme. He had grown accustomed to danger, and had come to look upon death as an event that happened every day, and might be his own lot tomorrow. It had come to seem natural now that he should waken up in the morning to find his sword at his pillow, and listen all day to the thunder of the guns in the batteries on Creggan and the Waterside. Successful resistance had awakened in him as in others, an intense enthusiasm he was far from feeling the first day he had stood on the walls and watched the white tents stretching out on every side. At that time resistance had seemed almost hopeless; it was their duty to fight for a cause they looked on as sacred; but now they had measured their strength with the foe, and they had proved the valour of the fighting-men who manned the walls and lined the ramparts, and if relief came 162while there was a barrel of meal in the magazine they would make good their defence.
It was a fine thing to see the alacrity and courage with which the rough yeomen and citizens went into the fight, and the spirit with which they handled their muskets. Grumble at times they would, for horse flesh is but poor meat to the Anglo-Saxon mind; and French butter (only a cheerful pseudonym for tallow) and meal were somewhat apt to turn upon the stomach of a morning. But even the grumblers did their duty, and the cordial of religion was dealt out in plentiful doses in the Cathedral twice a day. It was a sight to see Walker, his duty as a stout Colonel of foot being laid aside for the nonce, mounting the pulpit with his martial air, and drilling his flock in the duty of resistance. When the sermon was over, and they came crowding through the door--men, women, and children--there was a look in their eyes and a catching of their breath, that spoke volumes for the powers of the homely orator and the earnestness of his appeal. There was indeed nothing wanting to inflame their zeal and strengthen their pride. The Celt was in their eyes an inferior and a servile race, and his religion the superstition of the scarlet woman. On them hung the fate of the kingdom, and if Londonderry fell, Enniskillen must also surrender, and Ireland would go with James from the Cove of Cork to Bloody Foreland. Their brethren in England--so they said--would not let them die of want; William of Nassau was a soldier trained in arms who knew 163the importance of the place they held, and he was not one to let the grass grow under his feet. Any morning they might rise to see a friendly fleet in the river; and they fought on from day to day with the roofs crashing over their heads, and the first pinch of want warning them of what might be in store.
We left Gervase Orme pacing the ramparts with his heavy cloak gathered closely round him, looking anxiously towards the enemy′s lines. There was not a sound to be heard; only a light glanced here and there for a moment and then vanished into the darkness. The men lay in the trenches, screening themselves from the sharp wind, for though it was now early in June the nights were cold. It was weary work, this waiting for the morning, for a light that would never break, and an attack that would never come.
Then Gervase seated himself on an empty cask, with his face toward the bitter east wind, and fell to thinking of Dorothy Carew. It was a habit that had grown on him of late, for it was wonderful how it shortened the hours, and relieved the tedium of his guard. He had seen her frequently during the last six weeks, and though no word of love had ever been spoken between them, he had striven to show her that he looked on her as something more than a friend, and he thought that, though with maidenly reserve, she returned his affection. He was seldom able to see her alone, for Lady Hester was always anxious to see the young soldier fresh from duty with his news of how the siege was going; and though Gervase often 164longed for a tender tête-à-tête he seldom managed to secure it. How he had come to evoke the ill-will of Jasper Carew he did not know, but the latter took little pains to conceal his enmity and on more than one occasion, only the presence of his sister prevented Gervase from coming to an open breach with him. He took no part in the defence, and openly laughed at his sister′s zeal. And yet Gervase knew that he was no coward, for he had come through several affairs of honour, and pinked his man very creditably. But however much Gervase might have desired his friendship, he saw no other way to peace than to avoid him so far as he could, and let his gibes pass unnoticed when they met. He could see that Dorothy was anxious to atone for her brother′s coldness, and that was in itself compensation enough. And as Gervase sat on his cask, and drew his cloak closer about him, he saw again the tender smile in her eyes and felt the pressure of her hand. What mattered this dreary guard and the long watching and the hardship of his life, if she loved him?
So wrapped up was he in his meditations that the sky was all flecked with gray and barred with red, and the morning wind was blowing round him, before he awakened from his dream. The men of his company were walking in twos and threes below him, or were still lying crouched under the shelter of the ramparts. He himself was numb and stiff with cold, and as he rose to stretch his limbs his eye caught sight of the grey tents in the valley below him. 165The clear note of a solitary bugle was sounding fitfully. The camp was already astir, and away to the left several companies of horse were moving rapidly toward the strand. In a moment his dreams were dissipated and he was keenly on the alert. It seemed to him that a great body of men were being massed in the hollow. Already, as it grew clearer, he could see them gathering round the standards, and the grey glint of steel came fitfully through the morning mists. There was not a moment to lose, for he did not doubt that the attack was about to be made in force, and if they were to hold their ground, it would need every available fighting man the garrison could send out to defend the whole line of the rampart. He could not be mistaken; the attack they had been looking for so long, was about to come at last.
Leaping hastily into the trench, he collected the men of his command. He spoke to them briefly and to the point. “Now,” he said, throwing off his cloak and drawing his sword, “Sinclair, you will make for the City with what haste you can. Tell Baker we must stand a general attack, and that the horse are gone toward the river. I think the grenadiers are upon the left moving toward the bog. You, Bowden, will pass the alarm along the line, and I myself will even go forward to reconnoitre, and see more clearly what their meaning is. Now, my lads, see that your priming is fresh, for we must stand to it this day like men.”
The note of alarm spread rapidly down the 166ramparts, and wherever the little companies were gathered the excitement grew deep and strong, and preparations were made for the coming struggle. There was now no longer any reason to doubt that the enemy were preparing to make a general advance. In the grey dawn they could see dark masses in motion to the right and to the left, and hear the drums beating their lively call, and the note of the bugle ringing out clear and loud.
Dropping from the rampart Gervase crept down the hillside, taking advantage of the straggling line of defence that ran zig-zag down the hill in the direction of the enemy. As he drew nearer and bent his ear to the ground, he could hear the measured tread of marching feet and the ring of iron hoofs. The dawn had come up with a leap; the light was now broad and clear, and lying screened by the shelter of the fence, he could see the different regiments rapidly taking up their position with as much order as the irregularities of the ground would permit. What their strength was he could not rightly estimate, but the regiment before him was Butler′s foot, and on the left were Nugent′s grenadiers. He could hear the hoarse word of command shouted down the ranks and the rattle of the firelocks as the men shouldered their guns. Already they were in motion. There was not a moment to be lost if the rampart was to be kept that day. With the speed of a deer he made his way back to the lines, calling out as he came up, and took the deep trench at a bound.
167“They are coming,” he said, clambering up the breastwork; “they are coming, and will be up in a quarter of an hour. We must give them a warm welcome here. Bring out the powder, and remember to fire low; we are not shooting snipe to-day, and must not waste a shot.”
He looked anxiously toward the city for the support that had been promised, for he knew the little body of men who surrounded him could not stand for a moment against the force in front of them. But the city was all astir. The Cathedral bell was pealing out its warning summons, and already a stream of men was pouring from the Bishop′s-gate without order or formation. And they were not a moment too soon, for the enemy came pouring up the hillside, a dark, crimson wave that seemed to undulate, swaying with a slow uncertain motion, as it advanced.
The men stood within the shelter of the ramparts clutching their muskets and watching far below them the enemy advancing slowly to the assault.
“I′m thinking I could put a brace of slugs into yon young cockerel with the feathers in his bonnet,” said a tall, raw-boned man of Down, glancing along the barrel of the fowling piece he carried, and turning to Gervase with an inquiring look. “It were a pity not to let them have a foretaste of what they′ll get by and by.”
“You must not draw a trigger till they are close up; then you may bring him down if you will. God be praised! here come the reinforcements. I′m 168glad to see you, Colonel Baker, with all my heart. They would scarce have waited for you had you tarried.”
“Tis very well done, Mr. Orme. You deserve no small praise for your watchfulness. This had been a serious business had they caught us napping, but there is not a man in the camp yonder who is worth a pinch of powder, and they come on like so many drunken drabs. Now we will show the rogues what they may expect when they call on honest men at home.”
Rapidly and with a joyful alacrity he drew up the men into three ranks, rank behind rank, and bade them look carefully to the loading of their pieces, and not to waste their shot. Then he directed the first rank that they should wait till the enemy came within forty paces of the rampart, and when he gave the word they should fire their volley steadily and all together; that having fired the second rank should take their place, and that they in turn should give way to the third. The simple measure was easily understood, and the men smiled in silence as they handled their muskets and waited for the word.
“The women are coming to see how you have done, my sons,” Baker said, “but I think you will not want their help to-day. Yonder fellows are but three to one; you could spare them greater odds than that and beat them still. I would wager a golden guinea never a man of them will touch the rampart.”
169The enemy had advanced to within a hundred yards of the ramparts and then halted to complete their formation, which had been broken by the straggling fences of which we have already spoken. The silence behind the earthworks had been so complete that they looked for an easy victory over the guards on duty there. It was now broad day, and the defenders could see all along the line their enemies hastening to the attack. With a loud cheer the latter advanced at the double, and were close upon the ramparts when they were met by a sudden spurt of fire that ran simultaneously along the line, and by a shower of bullets that brought them to a stand. But the check was only momentary. Believing that they had now to deal with empty barrels, they sprang forward with redoubled ardour, and were within a few paces of that fatal rampart when a second time the leaden hail smote them with withering effect. They halted in confusion and fired wildly into the smoke-covered curtain. Above the clamour and din rang out the voice of Baker--
“Steadily, my children, they are nearly satisfied. Advance! Fire!”
And the men of Londonderry with sublime faith in their captain and with the steadiness of men on the parade ground, took their place and gave another volley. Then the foe broke up into confusion and lost all semblance of formation. Many of them threw away their muskets and made what speed they could for the rear; while others encouraged 170by the shouts of their officers and still full of fight, made for the ramparts, and leaping into the trench climbed up the curtain with muskets clubbed. But they had little chance of success. All along the line they were met by an enemy flushed with the first success and having the advantage of a superior position. In some places, indeed, they succeeded in topping the line, and a hand to hand fight took place, but they could not keep their hold on the ground they had won. They were driven back into the trench with their assailants on the top of them. But for the most part the garrison stood stoutly by the ramparts, meeting their enemy with the muzzles of their guns and a steady fire.
Then Baker turned to Gervase with his face all aglow. “Should you live a thousand years you will never see a prettier fight than that. ′Tis over now, for we have taken the heart out of them and they will not form again. I pray God we have done as well elsewhere, but I fear the horse have pressed us harder by the Waterside. You must not tarry here. Away thither like the wind, and tell Gladstanes that I can spare him a half dozen companies if he need their help.”
However reluctant to leave till he had seen the end, Gervase obeyed and made what haste he could down the line of the ramparts towards the strand. All along the earthworks the men were standing steadily to their guns, but down by the river the fight was going hard.
Two hundred horse, gentlemen, for the most 171part, of high spirit and rank, had taken a solemn oath, as the chroniclers say, to top the line or perish in the attempt. Gervase came up as they were about to make the charge and delivered his message to the stout soldier who commanded there. “Not another man do I want,” was the answer; “we have enough for glory. Now, my lads, here they come, and let them have it!”
Carrying faggots before them w............