CHAPTER XII
After breakfast Donald Ward led his party along the road up whichM'Cracken's force must march to reach Antrim. At about noon he met theadvance guard of United Irishmen. Several of Donald's companions wererecognised by these men, and his party were led back to where M'Crackenhimself marched with the central division of his army. It was thenthat Neal first saw this leader--a tall, fair-haired, gentle-faced man,dressed in a white and green uniform, armed with a sword. He spoke toDonald Ward, and then calling Neal, questioned him about the conditionof the town of Antrim. Neal repeated all that Lord Dunseveric had said,and told how he had been shown a copy of the proclamation.
"You will not tell anyone else what you have told me, Mr. Ward," saidM'Cracken, "the news that our plans are known to the enemy might bediscouraging to the men. It does not alter my determination to takeAntrim to-day. Now I must give you your orders and your posts." Hecalled Donald Ward to him. "You will take charge of our two pieces ofcannon," he said. "They are at the rear of the force. Neal Ward, youwill join the first division of the army--the musketeers--and placeyourself under James Hope's command. I think this is what both you andhe would wish. Felix Matier and James Bigger will do likewise. Moylin,you and your two friends will march with the pikemen, whom I leadmyself. Some of the men have arms for you."
The party had fallen somewhat to the rear of the column during thisconversation with M'Cracken. Neal and his two companions hurried forwardat once in order to reach the division of musketeers which was in thevan. They had opportunity as they passed along to admire the steadymarch and the determined bearing of the men. Green flags were everywheredisplayed. The long pikes, iron spear-heads fastened on stout poles,were formidable weapons in the hands of strong men. An almost unbrokensilence was preserved in the ranks. The northern Irishmen are not greattalkers at any time. Set to work of deadly earnest, they become verysilent, very grim.
There were men in the little army belonging to some of the finestfighting stocks in the world. There were descendants of the fiery Celtictribes to whom Owen Roe O'Neill taught patience and discipline; who,under him, if he had lived, might well have broken even Cromwell'sIronsides and sent the mighty Puritan back to his England a beaten man.Despised, degraded, enslaved for more than a century, these had yet inthem the capacity for fighting. There were also the great-grandsons ofthe citizen soldiers of Derry--of the men who stood at bay so doggedlybehind their walls, whom neither French military art nor Celtic valour,nor the long suffering of famine and disease, could cow into surrender.There were others--newcomers to the soil of Ireland--who brought withthem to Ulster the traditions of the Scottish Covenantors, memoriesof many a fierce struggle against persecution, of conflict with thedragoons of Claverhouse. All these, whose grandfathers had stood in armsfor widely different causes, marched together on Antrim, an embodimentof Wolfe Tone's dream of a united Ireland. Their flags were green,vividly symbolic of the blending of the Protestant orange with theancient Irish blue. M'Cracken, with such troops behind him, might marchhopefully, even though he knew that the cavalry, infantry, and artillerywere hurrying against him along the banks of the Six Mile Water, fromBlaris Camp and Carrickfergus.
James Hope greeted Neal warmly.
"There is a musket for you," he said, "and your own share of thecartridges you helped to save. There's a lad here, a slip of a boy, whois carrying them for you."
He looked round and pointed out the boy to Neal.
"There he is; you may march in the ranks along with him."
Neal took his place beside a boy with bright red hair and a pleasantsmiling face, who handed him a musket and a pouch of cartridges.
"Them's yours, Neal Ward. Jemmy Hope bid me bring them for you."
"But what are you to do?" said Neal. "You have no musket for yourself."
"Faith I couldn't use it if I had. I never shot off one of them gunsin my life. I'd be as like to hit myself as any one. I'll just go alongwith you, I have a sword, and I'll be able to use that if I get thechance."
Neal looked at the lad beside him, noted his smooth face and sparklingeyes.
"You must be very young," he said, "too young for this work."
"I might be older than you now, young as I look. But is thon Mr. Matiercoming till us? Go you and talk to him if you want. I won't have himhere, marching along with me."
At about half-past one Hope halted his musketeers. He was in sight ofAntrim, and he waited for orders. It was clear that the town was heldby English troops. Their red coats were visible in the main street,but, without that, the houses which burnt here and there gave sufficientevidence of the presence of a ravishing army.
M'Cracken made a speech to his men--an eloquent speech. Now-a-dayswe are inclined to look with some contempt on men who make eloquentspeeches. We are so accustomed to the perpetual flow of our Sundayoratory that we have come to think of speeches as mere preliminariesto copious draughts of porter in public-houses--a sort of grace beforedrink, to which no sensible man attaches any particular importance.But the orators of M'Cracken's day spoke seriously, with a sense ofresponsibility, because all of them--Flood, Grattan, and the rest--spoketo armed men, who might at any time draw swords to give effect to thespeaker's words. M'Cracken spoke to men with swords already drawn andmuskets loaded. Therefore, he had some right to be eloquent, and hishearers had some right to cheer.
Felix Matier had somehow laid hands on Phelim, the blind piper, and sethim playing. A hundred voices, voices of marching men, caught the tune,whistled, and sang it. Matier's own voice rang out clearest and loudestof all. It was, the "Marseillaise" they sang--a not inappropriate anthemfor soldiers about to fight for the liberty of man. But James Hope hadsomething else in his mind besides the storming of a French Bastilleand the guillotining of a French aristocracy. He believed that he wasfighting: for Ireland, and the foreign tune was not to his mind. Layinghis hand on Matier's shoulder he commanded silence. Then whispering toPhelim, he set a fresh tune going on the pipes. An ancient Irish warmarch shrilled through the ranks--a tune with a rush in it--a tune whichsends the battle fever through men's veins. Now and then the passion ofit reaches a climax, and the listeners, almost in spite of themselves,must shout aloud. It is called "Brian Boroimhe's March," and it may bethat his warriors shouted when the pipers played it marching on Clontarfagainst the Danes. Hope's musketeers heard it, whistled it as the piperplayed, hummed it in deep voices, and always, when the moment came,shouted aloud.
The musketeers halted, and the pikemen passed them by. The broad,straight street lay before them, and at the end of it, half sheltered bythe market house, were the English infantry. Behind them, blocking theend of the street, splitting it as it were into two roads, which run tothe right and left, was the wall of Lord Massereene's demesne. Acrossthe bridge the English cannon, almost too late, were being hurried byan escort of sweating dragoons. There was work with them for Hope'smusketeers and Donald Ward's two brass six-pounders. But between theinfantry and M'Cracken's men was a body of cavalry, sitting in shelterbehind the wall which surrounded the church. These would cut themusketeers to pieces. The pikemen must face them first.
The horsemen wheeled from their shelter and charged. The long pikeswere lowered, steadied, held in bristling line. There was trampling,shouting, cursing, torn horses, wounded men, dust, and confusion. Thenthe horsemen turned back, musket bullets followed them, men reeled fromthe saddles, horses stumbled, the pikemen at the lower end of the streetshook themselves and cheered. They had tasted victory. A louder cheerfollowed. Another body of pikemen, true almost to the moment of theirtime, marched in along the Carrickfergus Road and joined M'Cracken.The whole body moved forward together. Down the street to meet themthundered the dragoons who had brought the cannon in across the bridge.Hope's musketeers fired again, but no bullets could stop the furiouscharge. The dragoons were on the pikes--among the pike men, There wasstabbing and cutting, pike and sabre clashed. Again the cavalry weredriven back, again the musket bullets followed them--musket bulletsfired by marksme
n. M'Cracken, at the head of his men, pushed forward.The dragoons took shelter, the English artillery and infantry openedfire. The street was swept with grape-shot and bullets.
Neal, in the front rank of Hope's men, was loading and firing rapidly.He heard a shout behind him.
"Way there, make way!"
He turned. Donald Ward and two men with him had got one of theirsix-pounders mounted on a country cart. They dragged the gun to themiddle of the road. Donald, sweating and dusty, but calm and alert, witha grim smile on his face, laid the gun, loaded, fired. Again he fired.The gun was well aimed. His shot ploughed its way among the men whoserved the English guns, but at the second discharge a round shot flungit from its carriage and laid it useless on the road. The man who stoodbeside it cursed and flung his hands up in despair. Donald Ward turnedquickly.
"Back," he said, "get the other gun."
The pikemen pressed on against the storm of grape and cannister andbullets. The guns ceased firing to let the dragoons charge. Again thepikemen knelt to receive them, and flung them back. At last the wall ofthe churchyard was reached. The pikemen leaped into the churchyard andbreathed in safety. A flag was raised above the wall, a green flag. Awild cheer greeted it. Hope shouted an order to his men. They rushedforward along the ground that had been so hardly won, and took theirplaces with their comrades behind the wall. Leaning over it, or findingloopholes in the rough masonry, they opened fire on the infantry beforethem. A large body of pikemen crossed the road and entered a lane. Theypressed along behind the houses of the street to turn the flank of theEnglish infantry who were drawn up against the demesne wall. The Englishcommander saw his danger, and sent dragoons charging down the streetagain. But Hope's musketeers were in the churchyard this time. Theyfired at close range. The dragoons hesitated. The remaining pikemenrushed out on them. The colonel reeled in his saddle, struck by abullet. His men wavered. In one instant the pikemen were among them.Three horsemen shouted to the men to rally, and with the flats of theirswords struck at those who were retreating. But the dragoons had had toomuch of the pikes. They turned and fled up the street. Sweeping to theleft they galloped in confusion from the battle. The three horsemenwho did not fly were surrounded. The main body of the pikemen pressedforward; the flanking party joined them. The English infantry andgunners were driven through the gates and took shelter behind the wallsof the demesne.
In the middle of the street the three horsemen fought for their livesagainst a handful of men who had held back from the main charge. Nealrecognised two of them--saw with horror Lord Dun-severic and Mauricecutting at the pikes with their swords. He leaped the wall and rushedto their help. The third horseman--the unfortunate Lord O'Neill--wasseparated far from them. He fell from his saddle, ripped by a pikethrust. Lord Dunseveric's horse was stabbed, and threw its rider to theground. Maurice leaped down and raised his father. The two stood back toback while the pikemen pressed on them. Then Neal reached them. With hismusket clubbed he beat down two of the pikes. The men cursed him, and,furious at his interference, thrust at him. A sword flashed suddenlybeside him, and a pike, which would have pierced him, was turned aside.Neal saw that the red-haired boy who marched with him in the morning hadfollowed him from the churchyard and was fighting fiercely by his side.The pikemen realised that they were attacking their friends. LeavingNeal and his protector, they ran to join their comrades.
"Yield yourselves," shouted Neal. "You are my prisoners. Yield and youare safe."
Lord Dunseveric bowed.
"Thank you, Neal," he said, quietly, "we yield to you."
A bullet struck the ground at their feet, and then another. The soldiersbehind the demesne wall were firing at them. The boy who had saved Nealfrom the pike thrust gave a sudden cry and sank on the ground.
"I think," said Lord Dunseveric, "you had better pick up that boy andwalk in front of us. It is possible that our men will cease firing whenthey see that Maurice and I are between them and you."
Neal stooped and raised the boy.
"I can walk fine," he said, "if you let me put my arm round your neck."
There was a pause in the fighting. The English infantry drawn up on theterrace behind the wall would not fire on Lord Dunseveric and his son.Hope's musketeers in the churchyard watched in silence while the littleprocession approached them. Neal, with his arm round the wounded boy,walked first. Lord Dunseveric, following, drew his snuff-box fromhis pocket, tapped it, and took a pinch, drawing the powder into hisnostrils with deliberate enjoyment.
"It seems, Maurice," he said, with a slight smile, "that we are peopleof considerable importance. Two armies are looking on while we march tocaptivity, and yet we do not appear in a very heroic light. We are theprisoners of one badly-armed young man and a wounded boy."
"Neal saved us," said Maurice.
"Yes," said Lord Dunseveric, "that is, no doubt, the way to look at it.We should certainly have been piked if it had not been for Neal."
Neal lifted the wounded boy over the churchyard wall and knelt besidehim on the grass.
"Where are you hit?" he said.
"It's my leg, the calf of my leg, but it's no that bad, I could getalong a bit, yet."
The English infantry opened a furious fire on M'Cracken's pikemen, whostood around the cannon they captured. Hope's musketeers replied, firingrapidly. Many of them had fallen. There were muskets to spare, and thewounded men, crawling round their comrades, loaded for them, and passedthe guns up to those who still could shoot. The whole churchyard wasfull of smoke, and a heavy cloud of it hung in the still air before thewall. It became impossible to see plainly what was happening. Neal wasaware that Felix Matier stood beside him, and that Lord Dunseveric wassomewhere behind him watching, with cool interest, the progress of thefight. Suddenly Felix Matier shouted--
"We're blinded with this smoke. We must see to shoot. We must see toaim. Follow me who dare!"
He leaped into the street, and knelt down. The air was clearer therethan in the churchyard. He aimed steadily, fired, loaded, and firedagain. The bullets of the infantry splashed on the ground around himlike rain drops in a heavy shower. His clothes were cut by them. Itseemed a miracle that he did not fall. He began to sing, and this timethere was no one to forbid his "Marseillaise." Then, while hisvoice rose to its highest, while he seemed, out there alone in thebullet-swept street, a very incarnation of the battle spirit--the endcame for him. He flung up his arms, rose, staggered towards the shelterof the churchyard, turned half round in the direction of the men whofired at him, and dropped dead.
Lord Dunseveric stepped forward and tapped Neal on the shoulder.
"Listen," he said.
From the Belfast Road, along which the United Irishmen had marched inthe morning, came the sound of drums. Through the smoke it was possibleto discern dimly that a large body of troops was approaching the town.There could be no doubt as to who they were. No reinforcements forM'Cracken's army could be looked for from the south. Neal grasped themeaning of what he saw. Hope's men in the graveyard, which they had heldso long, were caught between the soldiers in the demesne and these freshtroops who marched on them. Others besides Neal saw what was happening.The firing slackened. Here and there a man dropped his musket andstared wildly around. At the top of the street the dragoons who had fledappeared again. They attacked M'Cracken's pike-men once more, and thistime victoriously. Shaken by the fire of the soldiers behind the wall,disheartened by the appearance of the enemy in their rear, these men,who had fought so well, could fight no more. Some fled, some, with theirleader, faced the dragoons and, their pikes still forming a bristlinghedge in front of them, retired sullenly eastwards from the town.
The musketeers were left alone. Their position seemed desperate. Nealstopped firing, and looked round. Hope stood bare-headed, his sword inhis hand.
"We have fought a good fight, men, and we'll fight again, but we mustget out of this now. Load and reserve your fire till I give the order.Follow me."
He stepped into the street. His men, gaining coura
ge from the coolconfidence of his voice, loaded their muskets and went after him.
"Neal," said Lord Dunseveric, "this is madness. Stay. There are at leasta thousand men in front of you. You can't cut your way through them."
But Neal did not listen. To him, for the moment, it was enough that Hopewas leading.
"Neal, Neal, don't leave me."
It was the voice of the boy who had stood by him in the street andturned the pikes aside.
"See, I have bound up my leg. I can walk."
Neal took him by the arm, and together they joined the remnant of Hope'smusketeers in their march against the fresh troops who approached them.
Lord Dunseveric, heedless of the bullets which still swept the streetfrom the demesne, stood on the graveyard wall. He was excited at last.
"Maurice," he cried, "these men are going to certain destruction, but,by God, their courage is glorious. Look, they are out of the town. Theyhave halted. They fire. Now, if the English officer has any horse he cancut them to pieces. He should advance, cavalry or no cavalry. A chargewith the bayonets would settle it. See, Maurice, the red coats havehalted. They are forming a square; they expect to be charged. The rebelshave turned. They are satisfied with having checked the advance. Theyare making back into the town. Are they mad? No, by God, they wheel totheir right. They are off. They have escaped."
The meaning of Hope's manoeuvre broke suddenly on Lord Dunseveric. Therewas a road at the end of the town leading north-east to Done-gore. Bygoing along it Hope could join M'Cracken and the remains of thearmy. But to keep it open he had to check the advance of the Englishreinforcements. He feinted against them, calculating that theircommander would not know how the fight had gone in Antrim, and must ofnecessity move cautiously. He risked the utter destruction of his littleforce in making his bid for safety. He reaped the reward of courageand skill, extricating his musketeers from what seemed an impossibleposition.