Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick by G. A. Henty (best electronic book reader .TXT) 📖

"To horse, lads! We will ride out and give the peasants a helping hand, if they really mean to attack the enemy."

Kilcowan was two miles away and, having learned from the peasant that the people intended to attack at a point where the road passed between two hills, a mile and a half beyond the village, he galloped on at full speed. He arrived, however, too late to take any part in the fight. The peasants had rushed suddenly down the hillsides, armed with scythes and pikes, upon the convoy as it passed below them. Several of the cavalry had been killed, and the rest were riding off, when Walter with his troopers dashed up. They continued the pursuit for a mile, cutting off a few stragglers, less well mounted than the rest, and then returned to Kilcowan, where the peasants had just arrived in triumph with the rescued carts of potatoes.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, when the excitement of the welcome, accorded by the women to the captors, had subsided a little. "You may expect a strong body to be sent out, tomorrow, to punish you for this."

"It's the general's own proclamation, your honour. Didn't he say, himself, that his soldiers were not to stale anything, and that they would be severely punished if they did? And didn't he guarantee that we should be paid for everything? He could not blame us for what we have done, and he ought to hang the rest of those thieving villains, when they get back to him."

"I wouldn't be too sure about it," Walter said. "He issued a good many proclamations before, but he has never kept the terms of one of them. If I were you, I would leave the village--man, woman, and child--for a few days, at any rate, and see how the Dutchman takes it."

But the villagers could not be persuaded that the Dutch general would disapprove of what they had done, and Walter, finding his arguments of no avail, rode off with his men to the village they had left, an hour before; with the parting advice that, if they would not follow his counsel, they should, at any rate, place watchers that night on the roads towards Ginckle's camp, to bring them news of the approach of any body of the enemy's cavalry.

But the villagers were too delighted with their day's work to pay much heed to Walter's warning, and, after a general jollification in honour of their victory, retired to rest, thoughtless of danger.

It was getting dark when Walter reached the village where he had determined to stay for the night. He ordered the men to keep the saddles on their horses, and to hitch them to the doors of the cabins where they took up their quarters, in readiness for instant movement. He placed one mounted sentry at the entrance to the village, and another a quarter of a mile on the road towards Kilcowan.

At nine o'clock, he heard the sound of a horse galloping up to the door, and ran out. It was the sentry at the end of the village.

"Kilcowan is on fire, sir!"

Walter looked in that direction, and saw a broad glare of light.

"Ride out, and bring in the advanced sentry," he said, "as quick as possible."

He called the other men out, and bade them mount; that done, they sat, ready to ride off on the return of their comrades.

"Here they come, sir," one of the men said, "and I fancy the enemy are after them."

Walter listened intently. He could hear a deep thundering noise, which was certainly made by the hoofs of more than two horses.

"Face about, men, trot! Keep your horses well in hand, until the others come up, and then ride for it.

"Ah, what is that!"

As he spoke, there was a shout from the other end of the village, followed instantly by the trampling of horses.

"They have surrounded us!" Walter exclaimed. "Shoulder to shoulder, lads, and cut your way through. It's our only chance. Charge!"

And, placing himself at the head, he set spurs to his horse and dashed at the approaching enemy.

There was a fierce shock. A horse and rider rolled over from the impetus of his charge, then he cut right and left; pistol shots rang out, and his horse fell beneath him, shot through the head, pinning his leg beneath it.

The fall saved his life, for four or five troopers had surrounded him, and in another moment he would have been cut down. For a time, he ran great risk of being trampled upon, in the confusion which followed. Then some of the troopers dismounted, he was dragged from beneath his horse, and found himself a prisoner. He was placed in the centre of the troop, the only captive taken, for two of the six men had got safe away in the darkness and confusion, the other four had fallen.

The English, as he afterwards learned, had, immediately they arrived at Kilcowan, inquired where the Irish cavalry, who had taken part in the afternoon's fight, were quartered, and on hearing that they were but two miles away, the officer in command had forced one of the peasants to act as guide, and to take a party round, by a detour, so as to enter at the other end of the village, just as another party rode in by the direct road.

Walter was taken first to Kilcowan. There he found a party of twelve or fourteen peasants, surrounded by cavalry. The whole village was in flames. Several of the inhabitants had been cut down, as the cavalry entered. The rest, with the exception of those in the hands of the troops, had fled in the darkness. As soon as the detachment with Walter arrived, the whole body got into motion, and reached Ginckle's camp shortly before midnight.

As the general had retired to sleep, they were placed in a tent, and four sentries posted round it, with orders to shoot anyone who showed his head outside. In the morning, they were ordered to come out, and found outside the general, with several of his officers.

"So," Ginckle said, "you are the fellows who attacked my soldiers. I will teach you a lesson which shall be remembered all over Ireland. You shall be broken on the wheel."

This sentence was heard unmoved by the peasants, who had not the least idea of what was meant by it; but Walter stepped forward:

"It is not these men who are to blame, but your soldiers, general," he said. "Your own proclamation, issued three days ago, guaranteed that no private property should be interfered with, and that everything the troops required should be paid for. Your soldiers disobeyed your orders, and plundered these poor people, and they were just as much justified in defending themselves against them, as any householder is who resists a burglar."

"You dare speak to me!" exclaimed Ginckle. "You shall share their fate. Every man of you shall be broken on the wheel."

"General Ginckle," Walter said warmly, "hitherto, the foul excesses of your troops have brought disgrace upon them, rather than you; but, if this brutal order is carried out, your name will be held infamous, and you will stand next only to Cromwell in the curses which Irishmen will heap upon your memory."

The Dutch general was almost convulsed with passion.

"Take the dogs away," he shouted, "and let the sentence be carried out."

Several English officers were standing near, and these looked at one another in astonishment and disgust. Two of them hurried away, to fetch some of the superior officers, and directly these heard of the orders that had been given, they proceeded to Ginckle's tent.

"Can it be true," General Hamilton said, "that you have ordered some prisoners to be broken on the wheel?"

"I have given those orders," Ginckle said angrily, "and I will not permit them to be questioned."

"Pardon me," General Hamilton said firmly; "but they must be questioned. There is no such punishment as breaking on the wheel known to the English law, and I and my English comrades protest against such a sentence being carried out."

"But I will have it so!" Ginckle exclaimed, his face purple with passion.

"Then, sir," General Hamilton said, "I tell you that, in half an hour from the present time, I will march out from your camp, at the head of my division of British troops, and will return to Dublin; and, what is more, I will fight my way out of the camp if any opposition is offered, and will explain my conduct to the king and the British parliament. Enough disgrace has already been brought upon all connected with the army, by the doings of the foreign troops; but when it comes to the death by torture of prisoners, by the order of their general, it is time that every British officer should refuse to permit such foul disgrace to rest upon his name."

There was a chorus of assent from the other English officers, while Ginckle's foreign officers gathered round him, and it looked for a moment as if swords would be drawn.

Ginckle saw that he had gone too far, and felt that, not only would this quarrel, if pushed further, compel him to raise the siege and fall back upon Dublin, but it would entail upon him the displeasure of the king, still more certainly that of the English parliament.

"There is no occasion for threats," he said, mastering his passion. "You tell me that such a punishment is contrary to English law. That is enough. I abandon it at once. The prisoners shall be hung and quartered. I presume that you have no objection to offer to that."

"That, general, is a matter in your own competence, and for your own conscience," Hamilton said. "The men have simply, as I understand, defended their property against marauders, and they are, as I conceive, worthy of no punishment whatever. If you choose to sentence them to such a punishment, it is your sentence, not mine. I thought it was your policy to heal the breach between the two parties. It seems I was mistaken. Personally, I protest against the execution of the sentence, beyond that I am not called upon to go. An act of injustice or cruelty, performed by a general upon prisoners, would not justify a soldier in imperilling the success of the campaign by resisting the orders of his superior; therefore, my duty to the king renders me unable to act; but I solemnly protest, in my own name and that of the English officers under your command, against the sentence, which I consider unjust in the extreme."

So saying, General Hamilton, with the English officers, left the general's tent. If they hoped that the protest would have the effect of preventing the barbarous sentence from being carried into execution, they were mistaken. The fact that, to carry out his first intention would have been absolutely unlawful, had caused Ginckle to abandon it, but this made him only the more obstinate in carrying the second into execution.

The English officers stood talking, not far from his tent, in tones of indignation and disgust at the brutal sentence, and then walked towards their divisional camp. As they went, they saw a number of men standing round a tree. Some Hessian soldiers, with much brutal laughter, were reeving ropes over the arm of the tree, and, just as the officers came along, six struggling forms were drawn up high above the heads of the crowd.

The party paused for a moment, and were about to pass on, their faces showing how deep was their horror at the scene, when one of them exclaimed:

"There is an Irish officer, in uniform, among the prisoners! This cannot be suffered, Hamilton. The Irish have several of ours prisoners in the town, and they would rightly retaliate by hanging them on the battlements."

General Hamilton and the others pressed forward.

"Colonel Hanau," the general said to a Hessian officer, "you surely cannot be going to hang this young officer? The general can never have included him with the others?"

"The general's orders were precise," the Hessian said coldly. "Twelve peasants and one officer were to be hung, and afterwards quartered."

"It is monstrous!" General Hamilton exclaimed. "I will go back to the general, and obtain his order for the arrest of the execution."

"You will be too late, sir," the Hessian said coldly. "I have my orders, and before you are half way to the general's camp, that prisoner will be swinging from that bough."

"I order you to desist, sir, till I return," General Hamilton said.

"As I do not happen to be in your division, General Hamilton, and as I have received my orders from the commander in chief, I decline altogether to take orders from you."

Walter, who had resigned himself to his fate, stood watching the altercation with a renewed feeling of hope. This died out when the colonel spoke, and two of the troopers seized him, but at that moment his eye fell upon one of the English officers.

"Colonel L'Estrange!" he