Chapter 5: The Relief Of Derry.
It was late in the afternoon before John woke. He started up, as his eyesfell upon Captain Davenant.
"You have had a good sleep, and I hope you are all the better for it,"Captain Davenant said, kindly. "My son has been telling me all about yourexpedition, and I honour you very much, for the courage you have shown inthus risking your life to get food for those starving children. I quiteapprove of the promise Walter has given to assist you, and if you should,by any chance, be taken prisoner, I will stand your friend."
John expressed his gratitude warmly.
"It is a sad thing, in these civil wars, when friends are arrayed againstfriends," Captain Davenant said. "Who would have thought, three monthsago, that you and Walter would be arrayed on opposite sides? It is trueyou are neither of you combatants, but I have no doubt you would gladlyhave joined in some of the sallies, just as Walter is eager to be ridingin my troop. If we must fight, I wish, at any rate, that it could be somanaged that all the suffering should fall upon the men who are willingto take up the sword, and not upon the women and children. My heartbleeds as I ride across the country. At one time, one comes upon a ruinedvillage, burned by the midnight ruffians who call themselves rapparees,and who are a disgrace to our cause. At another, upon a place sacked andruined by one of the bands of horsemen from Enniskillen, who are as crueland merciless as the rapparees. Let the armies fight out their quarrels,I say, but let peaceful people dwell in quiet and safety. But wholesaleatrocities have ever been the rule on both sides, in warfare in Ireland,and will, I suppose, remain so to the end.
"And now, we are just going to have dinner, and another hearty meal willdo you good. Each night, when my son brings down the supplies for you, hewill bring a substantial meal of cold meat and bread, and you must giveme your promise, now, that you will eat this at once. You will need it,after being so long in the water, and having another swim before you,besides. Although I approve of sending in milk for the children, I can beno party to the supply of food for the garrison. Do you promise?"
"Yes, sir, I promise," John said, "though I would rather save all but amouthful or two for the people who are starving at home. Still, ofcourse, if you insist upon it, I will promise."
"I do insist upon it, John. The lives of these children of yours dependon your life, and even one good meal, every four days, will help you tokeep enough strength together to carry out the kind work you haveundertaken."
Larry now brought in the dinner. He had been told by Walter of John'sarrival, but he otherwise would have failed to recognize, in him, the boywho had sometimes come down to the village with Walter.
"Are you quite well, Larry?" John asked him.
"I am," Larry replied; "but I need not ask the same question of yourself,for you are nothing but skin and bone, entirely. Dear, dear, I wouldn'thave known you at all, at all, and such a foine colour as ye used tohave."
"I don't think starving would suit you, Larry," Captain Davenant saidwith a smile.
"Sure an' it wouldn't, yer honour. It's always ready to eat I am, though,as mother says, the victuals don't seem to do me much good, anyway."
"You won't be able to come out and go back again the same night nextweek, John," Captain Davenant said, presently. "The tide won't suit, soyou must come up here, as you have done today. You will always find ahearty welcome, and Walter shall go down and meet you early in themorning, near the mouth of the river, so you can come up with him; andthen, if you fall in with any of the other parties, no questions will beasked. I think everyone in camp knows him now.
"I wonder what your grandfather would say, if he saw you sitting here atdinner with Walter and me?"
John laughed.
"I am afraid he would disown me, then and there, without listening toexplanations."
"I have no doubt it's a sore grievance to him that he is not in Derry, atpresent," Captain Davenant said.
"I am sure it is," John replied; "but the fasting would be a great trialto him. My grandfather is a capital trencherman. Still, I am sure hewould have borne his part."
"That he would," Captain Davenant agreed. "He and the men of his classare thorough, fanatics as I consider them. Hard and pitiless as theyproved themselves, to those against whom they fought, one cannot butadmire them, for they were heart and soul in their cause. There was noflinching, no half measures, no concessions for the sake of expediency.On the ground on which they took their stand, they conquered or died.Would that a like spirit animated all my countrymen!"
After nightfall, Larry brought round Walter's horse, saddled, and his ownrough pony. Walter mounted the former, and John the latter. The two kegswere slung across Walter's horse.
"Will you meet me at the clump of trees, half a mile out of camp, Larry?"Walter said. "In the dark, no one will notice the difference between youand John."
Captain Davenant had furnished Walter with a password, and now walkedbeside the two boys till they were well beyond the camp, and thenreturned to his tent. The lads made their way, without meeting withanyone, down to the mouth of the river. The kegs were then taken off thehorse and placed in the water--they floated just above the surface.
"That is exactly right," John said. "They will not show any more thanwill my face. When I come down next time, I shall fill them with water,so as to keep them just at this level."
"I am afraid the moon will be up next time, John."
"Yes, it will. I shall lay some boughs of bush across my face and thekegs, so that there will be no fear of my face showing; and if a sentryshould happen to catch sight of it, he will suppose that it is merely abush drifting in the stream."
"Well, goodbye, John, and may you get through without trouble."
"I have no fear, Walter. I am in God's hands, and He will take me safelythrough, if He thinks fit."
The journey was achieved without detection, the only difficulty being thesinking of the kegs under the boom; this, however, was successfullyaccomplished, and by midnight, the kegs were safely hidden in some bushesat the foot of the wall, and there John lay down and waited for morning.
As he entered the yard, the children ran out to meet him. There were noloud rejoicings; they had no longer strength or spirit to shout andlaugh; but the joy in the thin worn faces was more eloquent than anywords could have been.
"We have missed you so, John. We have wanted you so much. Lucy and Kateand Deby were so bad yesterday, and they did cry so for you. We were allso hungry. We don't mind so much, when you are here to talk to us andtell us stories. Why did you stop away, John, when we wanted you so?"
"I went away to see if I could manage to get you something to eat."
"And did you?" was the anxious cry.
"I have got a little; but you must wait till evening, and then you willeach have--" and he stopped.
"What, John? Oh, do tell us!"
"You will each have some milk and bread.
"Not much, dears," he went on, as there was a cry of gladness, which waspitiful from the intensity of joy it expressed, "but there will be somefor tonight, and a little curds and whey and bread for you tomorrow andnext day, and I hope always, as long as this lasts. Now go, dears, intoyour castle. I will come to you presently. I have brought you some water,as usual."
"I am heartily glad to see you back, John," his cousin said, as heentered the house. "The children were in a sad state without you,yesterday. I suppose you can tell me, now, what you have been doing. Youtold me you would be away two nights, and begged me not to ask anyquestions; but, although I know you to be discreet and prudent, I havebeen worrying."
"I will tell you now," John said, and he recounted the details of theexpedition which he had accomplished.
"And you have swum the river twice, and been in the camp of the Papists.Truly it is surprising, John, and I know not what to do. Should yourvisit there be discovered, you will assuredly be accused of treachery."
"They may accuse me of what they like," John said quietly. "I have doneit, and I am going to do i
t again, every fourth night, and there is themilk and bread at the foot of the wall, ready for you to haul up as soonas it gets dark."
"It ought to be fairly divided," the tanner said.
"It will be fairly divided, between our children," John said; "but nobodyelse will get a drop or a crumb. I have risked my life to get it forthem. If other people want to get it, let them do the same. Besides, as Itold you, Captain Davenant and his son both procured it for me for thesake of the children, and them only, and I should be breaking faith withthem if any others touched it, save those for whom it was given me. It islittle enough among eighteen children for four days--a pound of bread anda little over a pint of milk, each. They must each have a quarter of apint, when you bring it in tonight, and the rest had better be curdled.That way it will keep, and they can have a portion each day of curds andwhey, and a fourth share of their bread. It is little enough; but I trustthat it may keep life in them."
"Well, John, I will do as you say," the tanner said, after a pause. "Itgoes somewhat against my conscience; but, as you say, it will make but ameagre portion for each of them, and would be nothing were it fairlydivided; besides, you have brought it with the risk of your life, and Iknow not that any save you have a right to a voice in its partition."
Before the gates were closed, John went out, and presently had thesatisfaction of hearing a small stone drop from the wall above him,followed presently by the end of a rope. He sent up the kegs, and thenlay down among the bushes, and enjoyed the satisfaction of thinking ofthe joy of the little ones, when the milk and bread were served out tothem. As soon as the gates were open in the morning, he went in.
"Thank you, oh, so much, for the milk and bread last night. We heard howyou had swum so far, and gone into danger to get it for us, and we'regoing to have some more for breakfast."
"It was not much, dears," John said.
"Oh, no, it was not much; but it was so nice, and we did all sleep sowell last night--even little Lucy didn't waken and cry once--and RuthHardy said we ought to call you the Raven; but we don't like that namefor you."
"The Raven, Ruth!" John said, mystified. "Why did you want to call me theRaven?"
"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it, dear John; but you know thatchapter that Master Williams read us, the other day, about the ravensthat fed somebody in a cave, and we have been wishing the ravens wouldfeed us; and so you see, when you sent us the milk last night, I thoughtyou ought to be called the Raven. I did not mean any harm."
"No, my dear, of course not, and you can all call me the Raven, if youlike."
"No, no, John. You are John, and that's much better than the Raven. Theybrought the man food, but they didn't nurse him and tell him stories, asyou do."
"Now, run inside the castle," John said, "and I will go in and get yourbreakfasts."
John soon returned, with a great bowl of curds and whey, a platter piledup with slices of bread and a score of little mugs, and the feast began.Scarce a word was said while the children were eating. Their hunger wastoo keen, and their enjoyment too intense, to admit of speech. When eachhad finished their portion, there was a general exclamation.
"Oh, John, you haven't had any. Why didn't you have some, too?"
"Because there is only enough for you," he said. "If I were to have some,and Cousin Josiah, and all the others, there would be a very little sharefor you; besides, when I went out the day before yesterday, I had as muchas I could eat."
"Oh, dear, that must have been nice," one of the boys said. "Only think,having as much as one can eat. Oh, how much I could eat, if I had it!"
"And yet I daresay, Tom," John said, "that sometimes, before you camehere, when you had as much as you could eat, you used to grumble if itwasn't quite what you fancied."
"I shall never grumble again," the boy said positively. "I shall bequite, quite content with potatoes, if I can but get enough of them."
"The good times will come again," John said cheerily. "Now we will have astory. Which shall it be?"
As the children sat round him, John was delighted to see that even thetwo scanty meals they had had, had done wonders for them. The listless,hopeless look of the last few days had disappeared, and occasionallysomething like a hearty laugh broke out among them, and an hour later thetanner came to the entrance.
"Come to the walls with me, John."
"What is it? What is the matter?" John said, as he saw the look of angerand indignation on the wasted features of his cousin.
"Come and see for yourself," the latter said.
When they reached the walls, they found them crowded with theinhabitants. Outside were a multitude of women, children, and old men.These General Rosen, with a refinement of cruelty, had swept in from thecountry round and driven under the walls, where they were left to starve,unless the garrison would take them in, and divide their scanty supply offood with them.
"It is monstrous," John cried, when he understood the meaning of thesight. "What are we to do?"
"We can do nothing," the tanner replied. "The council have met, and havedetermined to keep the gates closed. We are dying for the cause. Theymust do so too; and they will not die in vain, for all Europe will cryout when they hear of this dastardly act of cruelty."
The people outside were animated by a spirit as stern as that of thebesieged, and the women cried out, to those on the walls, to keep thegates shut and to resist to the last, and not to heed them.
The ministers went out through the gates, and held services among thecrowd, and the people on the walls joined in the hymns that were sungbelow. So, for three days and nights, the people within and withoutfasted and prayed. On the third day, a messenger arrived from King Jamesat Dublin, ordering General Rosen at once to let the people depart.
The indignation, among the Irish gentlemen in the camp, at Rosen's brutalorder had been unbounded, and messenger after messenger had been sent toDublin, where the news excited a burst of indignation, and James at oncecountermanded the order of the general. The gates were opened now, andthe people flocked out and exchanged greetings with their friends. A fewable-bodied men in the crowd entered the town, to share in its defence,while a considerable number of the women and children from within mingledwith them, and moved away through the lines of the besiegers.
John had, the day before, gone out when the gates were opened for thepreachers, and at night had again safely made the passage to the mouth ofthe river and back. He found the lantern burning among the bushes, andtwo kegs placed beside it, with a bountiful meal of bread and meat forhimself.
So the days went on, each day lessening the number of the inhabitants ofthe town. Fever and famine were making terrible ravages, and thesurvivors moved about the streets like living skeletons, so feeble andweak, now, that they could scarce bear the weight of their arms.
On the 30th of July, three ships were seen approaching the mouth of theriver. They were part of Kirk's squadron, which had all this time beenlying idle, almost within sight of the town. The news of his conduct hadexcited such anger and indignation in England that, at last, in obedienceto peremptory orders from London, he prepared to make the attempt;although, by sending only two store ships and one frigate, it wouldalmost seem as if he had determined that it should be a failure.
The besiegers as well as the besieged saw the three ships advancing, andthe former moved down to the shore, to repel the attempt. The batterieson either side of the boom were manned, and from them, and from theinfantry gathered on the banks, a heavy fire was opened as the shipsapproached.
So innocuous was the fire of the artillery, that it has been supposedthat Kirk had previously bribed the officers commanding the forts. At anyrate, the ships suffered no material damage, and, returning the fire,advanced against the boom. The leading store ship dashed against it andbroke it, but the ship swerved from her course with the shock, and struckthe ground. A shout of dismay burst from those on the walls, and one ofexultation from the besiegers, who rushed down to board the vessel.
Her captain, howeve
r, pointed all his guns forward, and discharged themall at the same moment, and the recoil shook the vessel from her hold onthe ground, and she floated off, and pursued her way up the river,followed by her consorts.
The delay of Kirk had cost the defenders of Londonderry more than halftheir number. The fighting men had, either by disease, famine, or in thefield, lost some five thousand, while of the non-combatants seventhousand had died. The joy and exultation in the city, as the two storeships ranged up under its walls, were unbounded. Provisions were speedilyconveyed on shore, and abundance took the place of famine.
Five days later, General Rosen raised the siege and marched away with hisarmy, which had, in the various operations of the siege, and from theeffect of disease, lost upwards of three thousand men.
"This has been a bad beginning, Walter," Captain Davenant said, as theyrode away from the grounds on which they had been so long encamped. "Ifthe whole force of Ireland does not suffice to take a single town, theprospect of our waging war successfully against England is not hopeful."
"It seems to me that it would have been much better to have left Derryalone, father," Walter said.
"It would have been better, as it has turned out, Walter; but had theking taken the place, as he expected, without difficulty, he would havecrossed with a portion of the army to Scotland, where a considerable partof the population would at once have joined him. The defence of Derry hasentirely thwarted that plan, and I fear now that it will never be carriedout.
"However, it has had the advantage of making soldiers out of an army ofpeasants. When we came here, officers and men were alike ignorant ofeverything relating to war. Now we have, at any rate, learned a certainamount of drill and discipline, and I think we shall give a much betteraccount of ourselves, in the open field, than we have done in front of astrong town which we had no means whatever of storming. Still, it hasbeen a frightful waste of life on both sides, and with no result, beyondhorribly embittering the feeling of hatred, which unfortunately prevailedbefore, between the Catholic and Protestant populations."
The mortification and disgust, caused by the failure of Londonderry, wasincreased by a severe defeat of a force under General Justin McCarthy,Lord Mountcashel, at Newtown Butler, on the very day that Derry wasrelieved. General McCarthy had been detached, with a corps of sixthousand men, against the Enniskilleners. He came up with them nearNewtown Butler. Although but two thousand strong, the Enniskilleners, whowere commanded by Colonel Wolseley, an English officer, at once attackedthe Irish, only a portion of whom had come upon the ground.
McCarthy, who was a brave and experienced officer, sent orders to thecavalry to face to the right, and march to the support of the wing thatwas attacked. The officer gave the order "right--about face," and thecavalry turned and trotted towards the rear. The infantry, believing thatthey were deserted by the horse, at once lost heart and fell intoconfusion.
McCarthy, while endeavouring to remedy the disorder, was wounded andtaken prisoner, and the flight became general. The Enniskilleners pursuedwith savage fury, and during the evening, the whole of the night, and thegreater part of the next day, hunted the fugitives down in the bogs andwoods, and slew them in cold blood. Five hundred of the Irish threwthemselves into Lough Erne, rather than face death at the hands of theirsavage enemies, and only one of the number saved himself by swimming.
After leaving Derry, the army returned to Dublin, where the parliamentwhich James had summoned was then sitting. Most of the soldiers werequartered on the citizens; but, as the pressure was very great, CaptainDavenant easily obtained leave for his troop to go out to Bray, wherethey were within a very short distance of his own house.
The day after his return home, Walter went over to give Jabez Whitefootand his wife news of John, from whom they had heard nothing, since afortnight before the siege had begun.
"Your son is alive and well," were his first words. "He has been allthrough the siege of Derry, and has behaved like a hero."
"The Lord be praised!" Jabez said, while his wife burst into tears ofrelief, for she had gone through terrible anxiety during the long weeksthat Derry had been suffering from starvation.
"But how do you know, Master Walter?" Jabez asked. "Seeing that you wereon the side of the besiegers, how could you tell what was passing on theinside of the walls? How do you know John is alive?"
"Because I saw him first, a month before the end of the siege, andbecause he came regularly afterwards, to fetch away some provisions whichI had placed for him."
And Walter then gave a full account of John's visit to the camp, insearch of food for the children who were sheltered in the tanner's house.
"That is just like John," his mother said. "He was ever thoughtful forothers. I am more pleased, a hundred times, that he should have so riskedhis life to obtain food for the little ones, than if he had taken part inthe fighting and proved himself a very champion of Derry."
Parliament had met on the 7th of May. The session had been opened by aspeech from the throne, in which the king commended the loyalty of hisIrish subjects, declared his intention to make no difference betweenCatholics and Protestants, and that loyalty and good conduct should bethe only passport to his favour. He stated his earnest wish that good andwholesome laws should be enacted, for the encouragement of trade and ofthe manufactures of the country, and for the relief of such as hadsuffered injustice by the Act of Settlement; that is, the act by whichthe lands of the Catholics had been handed over, wholesale, to Cromwell'ssoldiers and other Protestants.
Bills were speedily passed, abolishing the jurisdiction of English courtsof law and of the English parliament in Ireland, and other bills werepassed for the regulation of commerce and the promotion of shipbuilding.The bill for the repeal of the Act of Settlement was brought up on the22d of May. It was opposed only by the Protestant bishops and peers, andbecame law on the 11th of June. Acts of attainder were speedily passedagainst some two thousand Protestant landed proprietors, all of whom hadobtained their lands by the settlement of Cromwell.
A land tax was voted to the king, of twenty thousand pounds a month, andhe proceeded to raise other levies by his private authority. The resultwas that the resources of Ireland were speedily exhausted, money almostdisappeared, and James, being at his wits' end for funds, issued coppermoney stamped with the value of gold and silver; and a law was passedmaking this base money legal tender, promising that, at the end of thewar, it should be exchanged for sterling money.
This was a measure which inflicted enormous loss and damage. At first,the people raised the prices of goods in proportion to the decrease inthe value of the money, but James stopped this, by issuing a proclamationfixing the prices at which all articles were to be sold; and having donethis, proceeded to buy up great quantities of hides, butter, corn, wood,and other goods, paying for them all with a few pounds of copper and tin,and then shipping them to France, where they were sold on his ownaccount. It need hardly be said that conduct of this kind speedilyexcited great dissatisfaction, even among those who were most loyal inhis cause.
Captain Davenant was shocked at the state of things he found prevailingin Dublin.
"I regret bitterly," he said, when alone with his wife and mother, "thatI have taken up the sword. Success appears to me to be hopeless. Thefolly of the Stuarts is incredible. They would ruin the best cause in theworld. With a spark of wisdom and firmness, James might have united allIreland in his cause, instead of which he has absolutely forced theProtestants into hostility. His folly is only equalled by his rapacity,and both are stupendous."
This was said, one evening, when he had just returned from a visit toDublin, depressed and disheartened by all he heard there.
"I am astonished, Fergus," his mother said sharply, "to hear you speak inthat way. Who would have thought that it was a Davenant who was speaking!Doubtless there have been mistakes, as was only natural, but everythingwill come right, in time. I have been longing for you to come home,looking forward with such joy to welcome you as the possessor o
f thebroad lands of the Davenants. Thank God I have lived to see therestoration of my dear husband's lands, and the discomfiture of thoseCromwellian knaves, who have so long possessed them. It was a grand daywhen the act was passed, repealing all Cromwell's grants handing over thebest part of Ireland to his soldiers; and I saw in the Gazette, among thetwo thousand grants specially mentioned as cancelled, was that of theDavenant estate to Zephaniah Whitefoot. I am told that the old man andhis son have taken no notice of the act, but go about their work as ifthey were still the owners of the land; but of course, now that you areback, there will soon be an end of this."
Captain Davenant was silent.
"I shall be in no hurry, mother," he said, after a pause. "It is truethat an act of the Irish parliament has cancelled the iniquitous work ofCromwell, and restored the land to its rightful possessors. I do not saythat this is not just, but I am quite sure that it is not politic. Thesemen have been planted on the soil for two generations. They have builthouses and tilled the fields, and made homes for themselves. It wasessentially a case for arrangement, and not for setting right the firstact of confiscation by another as sweeping. It has rendered theProtestants desperate. It has enlisted the sympathy of the Protestants ofEngland in their behalf, and has done much to popularize the war there.It would have been vastly wiser, had a commission been ordered to examineinto the circumstances of each case.
"In the great proportion of cases, the estates which the Cromwellitestook possession of were vastly larger than they were able to tillthemselves; and, as in the case of Zephaniah Whitefoot, they let out thegreater portion to tenants. All these lands I would have restored totheir former owners, leaving to the Cromwellites the land they tillthemselves, and the houses they have built upon it.
"As to turning the Whitefoots out, I shall certainly take no step thatway, at present. It will be time enough to do so, when King James isfirmly established on the throne. As things go at present, I have butvery faint hopes that will ever be. He has utterly failed to conquer theProtestants of the north of Ireland, and we have all the strength ofEngland to cope with, yet. It will be well, mother, if, at the end ofthis strife, we can keep Davenant Castle over our heads, with the fewacres that still remain to us."
Two days afterwards, Captain Davenant mounted his horse and rode over tothe Whitefoots. Zephaniah and Jabez came to the door.
"I suppose you have come over to turn us out, Fergus Davenant," the oldman said; "but I warn you, that it will not be for long. The triumph ofthe ungodly is short, and the Lord will care for his own people."
"You are mistaken," Captain Davenant said quietly. "I have come over forno such purpose. I am, of course, aware that parliament has passed a law,reinstating me in my father's lands; but I came over to tell you that, atpresent, I do not propose to take advantage of that law. I shall donothing, until this war is at an end. If King William's cause triumphs,the act will remain a dead letter. If King James's wins, and the act isupheld, I wish to tell you that I shall never disturb you in the landwhich you, yourselves, occupy. Your tenants, on the other hand, will bemy tenants; but in the house which you have built, and in the fieldswhich you have tilled, you will remain masters.
"I have thought the matter over, and this appears to me to be a justsettlement, and one which I give you my word that I will hold to, shouldKing James triumph in the end. I think that the law turning out theProtestant settlers, from the land which they have held for forty years,is well nigh as unjust as that which gave it to them."
"I will take no gifts at the hands of the wicked," Zephaniah began, butJabez interrupted him.
"Hush, father!" he said. "It is not thus that kindness should be met."
Then he stepped forward, leaving his father too surprised, at this suddenassumption of command on the part of his son, to interrupt him.
"Captain Davenant," he said, "I thank you most sincerely, on the part ofmyself, my wife and son, and, I may say, of my father, too, although atpresent he may not realize the kindness of your offer. I do not think itlikely that, if James Stuart prevails, and Ireland is rent from England,we shall avail ourselves of your offer, for we have more than sufficientof this world's goods to remove to England, and there settle ourselvesand our son, for assuredly Ireland would be no place where a Protestantcould dwell in peace and quietness. Nevertheless, I thank you heartily,and shall ever gratefully bear in mind the promise you have made, and thefact that, although you have the power to turn us from our home, you havestayed from doing so. There has been much wrong done on both sides; and,from a boy, when I have seen you ride into or from your home, I have feltthat I and mine wronged you, by being the possessors of your father'slands."
"They were the spoil of battle," Zephaniah broke in fiercely.
"Yes, they were the spoil of battle," his son repeated; "but there arelimits, even to the rights of conquerors. I have read history, and I knowthat nowhere but in Ireland did conquerors ever dispossess whole peoples,and take possession of their lands."
"The Israelites took the land of Canaan," Zephaniah interrupted.
"I am speaking of modern wars, father. For centuries, no such act ofwholesale spoliation was ever perpetrated; and considering, as I do, thatthe act was an iniquitous one, although we have benefited by it, Iconsider the offer which Captain Davenant has made to us to be a nobleone.
"I have to thank you, sir, also, for your kindness to my son--a kindnesswhich doubtless saved his life, as well as that of many others inLondonderry; and believe me that, whatever comes of this horrible war, Iand mine will never forget the kindnesses we have received at yourhands."
"The affair was my son's, rather than mine," Captain Davenant said; "butI was glad to be able to assist him in aiding your brave boy. He is anoble fellow, and you have every reason to be proud of him."
"I must add my thanks to those of my husband," Hannah said, coming outfrom the house, having listened to the conversation through an openwindow. "We had suffered so, until your son brought us news of John, twodays since. It is strange, indeed, that your son should have been themeans of saving one of a household whom he cannot but have learnt toregard as the usurpers of his father's rights. It was but last night Iwas reading of Jonathan and David, and it seemed to me that, assuredly,the same spirit that they felt for each other was in our sons."
"The boys are very fond of each other, Mrs. Whitefoot, and I am glad ofit. They are both manly fellows, and there is no reason why the feuds ofthe fathers should descend to the children."
With a cordial goodbye, Captain Davenant rode off.
"Jabez," Zephaniah said, as they turned into the house, "I had notthought to hear a son of mine rise in rebellion against his father."
"Father," Jabez said, "for forty-five years I have been a good son toyou; but it is time that I took my stand. It seems to me that theprinciples upon which the soldiers of Cromwell fought, were theprinciples which animated the Israelites of old. Exodus, Judges, andKings were the groundwork of their religion, not the Gospels. It hasgradually been borne upon me that such is not the religion of the NewTestament, and, while I seek in no way to dispute your right to think asyou choose, I say the time has come when I and my wife will act upon ourprinciples."
"It is written, Honour thy father and thy mother," Zephaniah saidsternly.
"Ay, father, I have honoured you, and I shall honour you to the end; buta man has no right to give up his conscience to his father; for it iswritten, also, that a man shall leave father and mother, and wife andhome to follow the Lord. I have heard you, father, and the elders of ourchurch, quote abundant texts from Scripture, but never one, that I canrecall, from the New Testament. Hitherto, I have been as an Israelite ofJoshua's time. Henceforward, I hope to be a Christian. I grieve to angeryou, father, and for years I have held my peace rather than do so; butthe time has come when the spirit within me will no longer permit me tohold my peace. In all worldly matters, I am still your obedient son,ready to labour to my utmost to gather up wealth which I do not enjoy, tolive a life as hard as th
at of the poorest tenant on our lands; but, astouching higher matters, I and my wife go our own way."
Without a word, Zephaniah took his hat and strode away from the house,and, after much angry communing with himself, went to the minister anddeacons of his chapel, and laid the facts of the rebellion before them,and asked their advice.
They were in favour of peace, for two of them were his tenants, and theyknew that the time could not be very far off when Jabez would take theold man's place, and it would be a serious matter, indeed, to the chapel,were he to be driven from its fold.
"We cannot expect that all shall see with our eyes, Zephaniah," theminister said, "and, indeed, the offer, which thou sayest the manDavenant made, was a generous one. It would be well, indeed, for ourbrethren throughout Ireland, did all the original owners of their landsso treat them. Thousands who, but a few months since, were prosperousmen, are now without a shelter wherein to lay their heads. The storm issweeping over us, the elect are everywhere smitten, and, should JamesStuart conquer, not a Protestant in Ireland but must leave its shores.Therefore, although I would counsel no giving up of principle, noabandonment of faith, yet I would say that this is no time for theenforcement of our views upon weak vessels. I mourn that your son should,for the time, have fallen away from your high standard, but I say it werebest to be patient with him."
At home, there were few words spoken after Zephaniah had gone out. Hannahhad thrown her arms round her husband's neck, and had said:
"I thank God for your words, Jabez. Now I am proud of you, as I havenever been proud before, that you have boldly spoken out for liberty ofconscience. I feel like one who has for many years been a slave, but whois, at last, free."
Jabez kissed her, but was silent. To him, it had been a great trial torebel. He knew that he was right, and would have done it again, ifnecessary; but it was a terrible thing to him to have openly withstoodthe father to whom he had, from childhood, rendered almost implicitobedience.
On his return, Zephaniah did not renew the subject; but from that time,there was a great change in the moral atmosphere of the house. Zephaniahwas still master in all matters of daily work; but in other respects,Jabez had completely emancipated himself.