Behind the Walls (19 page)

But he wasn’t a Jacobite general. He shuddered at the way his mind could work against him.

These days he carried rocks in his pocket just in case he spied a bird that he could make a meal out of. He had long given up hope of finding a stray cat or dog. Of course he knew that birds did not fly about in the dead of the night and even if they did, it would be impossible to take proper aim in the darkness. In any case it would appear that the birds had warned one another against landing anywhere near the walls of Derry. Only God could know how many hundreds had ended up flat on their backs on various dinner tables across the city.

Just then, he felt the less than stealthy approach of a
dizzy spell and stopped for a moment to deal with it.
How long could a person exist without proper food?
It was a good question but one he could not answer. Leaning against the wall of the nearest house, he closed his eyes in an attempt to absorb the dizziness. So far, no spell had proved strong enough to force him down to the ground and he was quite proud of this small truth. It was a personal challenge to endure the nausea and thundering fog, along with that strange prickling feeling beneath his skin, while he stubbornly remained on his feet.

Another silly habit had developed in recent days. Out of pure absent-mindedness, he had taken to running the palm of his hand over his own stomach, marvelling at how flat it was; in fact, he was quite sure it even dipped inwards now, like a valley on the plains. Where was the bump of extra flesh that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember?

There was also the thinning of his legs. It must have been the layer of fat that made it possible to endure hours in the saddle. Now he suffered from bruising and rubbed raw skin from the more pronounced chaffing against the leather.

Was it vanity that made him lament over the physical changes in the body that had never given him cause for anxiety? If only it was that simple. No, the truth could not be denied. Adam’s strength was a fraction of what it had
been in the days when he helped Gabriel on the farm. What man would not be affected at the thought that his masculinity, his very identity, was ebbing away like a pool of water drying up in the sun. It occurred to him that perhaps it was flesh that made people human; otherwise they were just a collection of bones.

‘Oh, I must stop this brooding. Why is my mind filled with so much nonsense?’

He said the words aloud, desperate to distract his mind by making noise. It was time to head back to his bed. He opened his eyes thinking someone had called his name. It wouldn’t do for him, the brave Adam Murray, to be found propped against a wall. Perhaps the inhabitants of the house had been disturbed by the sound of his voice. He paused to listen out for the sound of footsteps, expecting at any second to feel a hand on his shoulder. But no one came.

Blast! There’s the rain again
. He could not afford to get his clothes wet. It really was time to go back, but his body delayed in making the required movement.

Once more Adam thought of his father, wondering if this was what it was like to be old: your body losing respect for, or even interest in, your commands. Both his knees trembled in protest, refusing to take his weight just yet. He tried pleading with them, bartering with them. Had he no control over anything anymore?

The rain was cruel, blinding him, and soaking him right through, making him feel that he just might be the most miserable and lonely human being in Derry.
God help me!
Then he said the prayer aloud, ‘Please, God help me!’ because in saying those words he felt something shoot through him. As he pressed against the wall, the air around him seemed to lose the sharpness of the cold night. How peculiar!

What was that?
Could he actually feel someone, or something, breathing softly right beside him? His face felt caressed by warmth, by tenderness. Adam begged himself to cease this madness. If he had to lose his strength, he was damned if he’d allow his sanity to go with it.

Nevertheless he didn’t feel scared.

He heard his name being called but from where he couldn’t decide.
Did I imagine it?
He peered up the street, unable to decide whether he’d actually prefer somebody – anybody – to arrive and give him their arm to lean upon.

Oh! Now he was shivering yet felt perfectly warm, as if he were already home and beneath his blankets. Perhaps he was and this was just a dream. Then he felt his hair lift slightly from the top of his head. That was the best way he could describe it. Was it the breeze at his hair? Well, then maybe it was the breeze calling his name? But would it sound like a woman?

A part of him feared he was losing his mind while
another part felt embraced. ‘Mother?’ He hadn’t realised that he was going to call out. How could he recognise her voice when he had no real memories of her?

He was dying. It was the only sensible explanation. He could hear his mother’s voice because she was coming for him. This was it.
Poor Gabriel
! Adam hated the thought of leaving him alone but what could he do? He was going to die here on this mucky path. He waited for his legs to give way.

‘No, Adam!’

In the midst of everything he surely had not expected a debate. He repeated what she said. ‘No?’ He waited and then grew impatient with the throbbing silence. ‘I’m not going to die?’ Again he heard, ‘No.’ Was he alone? He couldn’t see anyone else. But then he looked up into the night sky.

Did he really expect to see something, his mother’s ghost or someone else’s? With death all around him there could be any number of spirits walking the streets at night, complaining that they had yet to receive a proper burial. Adam was not entirely sure he believed in ghosts, but as he leaned against that cold wall, in the middle of the night, it occurred to him that if they did exist, they probably belonged to those relatives who wished their bodies to be treated with more respect than being dumped on the street or in a basement.

As usual, the stars blinked away merrily in the sky. Adam was comforted by the familiar sight. He tried to gauge where the moon was. His father was much better at this sort of thing. It was something he had always envied in Gabriel, his being so in tune with nature. As Adam stared a mist began to form, swishing and swirling itself into being. No doubt Gabriel could’ve explained it to him. It was as bright as the stars, and then it even surpassed them. He had seen spiders’ webs that glistened in a certain light, but a mist that glowed in the night sky? Adam had never seen the likes of it before.

When he was a little boy, his father told him about a big, shiny star that looked like a ball of white flames and had a long tail of smoky light trailing after it. Only Gabriel didn’t say it was a star; he called it a comet. Of course Adam trusted his father’s explanation; that it was a piece of rock from some place the eye couldn’t see. Adam fancied his father meant Heaven, although if the rock was aflame, maybe it was from Hell.

‘Was it like a shooting star, Father?’

‘No,’ said Gabriel. ‘It was much better than that. Imagine something the size of a big turnip streaking through the night sky, with a long tail like a flashing snake behind it.’

Flashing snake? How Adam had wished and wished he could see a comet for himself. He did his best to. Over the
next few weeks he stood for hours each night in front of the window, hoping to see one, until he fell asleep with his elbows propped up on the window sill, and his head in his hands. And every night his father carried him to bed without waking him. How much simpler life had been back then.

So, what was he looking at now? It couldn’t be a comet as it wasn’t going anywhere.

The mass of mist seemed to be breathing in and out, looking for all the world as if it had a heartbeat. Adam rubbed his eyes, relieved to discover that on moving his hands from the wall he hadn’t fallen to the ground. He decided to step away from the house in an effort to see as much of the sky as he could. Perhaps he hoped the immensity of the sky would dwarf the strange sight.

As he continued to watch, he could see that something was beginning to take shape. Yes, look at how the mist thickened here and there, almost pulling itself in until Adam gasped.
Was that actually a head, a face?
The features were blurred but, meanwhile, there was what looked like a neck, shoulders and chest. Arms too.

Adam blessed himself. Was this creation? Was something being born in front of him?

One of the arms seemed to hold aloft something that looked like a sword. Adam blinked heavily to be sure. Yes, it was still there and continuing to grow in size and detail
until it was finished, until it just hung in the sky for Adam to see.

Now he did fall to his knees, but not because he felt dizzy; he was awed by the magnificence of this figure. He couldn’t deny it: a huge, warrior angel sitting on a white horse. His wings stretched out behind him; they flared in the dark like the mane on his horse’s neck.

Adam said the first words that came into his head because they were the truth. ‘I don’t know what to do!’

Whether he meant he didn’t know what to do with this vision, or he was making a confession about matters as they stood, the angel seemed to hear him. Its two arms, sword and all, widened as if to embrace the stricken city. A moment passed, or maybe two or three at the most, and then there was an explosion of dazzling light. Adam shielded his eyes and when he looked up again the angel was gone and the sound he could hear was St Columb’s bells ringing out for midnight.

Chapter Twenty-Four

A
robust discussion was taking place on the walls. King William had finally sent help in the form of ships laden with food and healthy soldiers – only the ships would not present themselves to Derry.

It was an exhilarating sight for the lookouts. Someone excitedly rang the bell of St Columb’s, sounding out joy and relief to Derry’s population, who all rushed to the walls to drink in the wondrous sight of the Williamite fleet in the far distance.

Over by Ship Quay Gate, Daniel, Robert, James and Henry roared in delight with Daniel gasping, ‘But how many ships are there?’

The others were too busy celebrating, so he squinted his eyes and counted as best he could, finally declaring, ‘Twenty ships, I think. That’s an entire army, surely?’

Beside him, Henry and Robert were waving their arms while singing in unison, ‘We’re saved; we’re saved!’

Three cannons were readied and fired from the walls, in hearty welcome. How everyone cheered when the ships made their answer, sounding like thunder rolling through
the distant skies. Whiffs of black smoke sauntered off the ships before disappearing.

Impatience grew alongside excitement; the ships seemed to be hardly moving. Indeed, they remained a long way off. It soon became apparent that the fleet had dropped anchor way out in the bay, much to the confusion and disappointment of the citizens of Derry.

Some hours later, as darkness fell, torches were lit along the walls to guide the ships into the Foyle but the ships remained where they were.

Henry was the first to shed the initial euphoria, muttering, ‘I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right.’ He stared out at the boom and shook his head.

Robert followed his gaze to an ominous barricade that they could all see snaking its way from one side of the Foyle to the other.

The Jacobites had concocted a boom, specifically to prevent ships coming to Derry’s rescue. It was built to withstand the big ships, to halt their approach, allowing the Jacobites to pummel the vessel with cannonballs from the far banks.

A stalemate had been reached. As the days continued to start and end without any sign of relief coming from the fleet, despondency set in behind the walls of Derry.

Daniel was horrified when Henry’s sense of foreboding proved to be correct. He had thought it was just the usual
showing off, Henry always wanting to lead the response within their group of friends, and – unlike Robert – he had ignored Henry’s worried expression, believing it was simply for their benefit.

Finally, after many days, there was movement, but it caused great upset on the walls. The boys and their fellow lookouts stood, ashen faced, as they watched the ships sail
away
from the city.

Daniel could only repeat over and over again, ‘But why? Why are they leaving us?’

Nobody could provide an answer. Even Henry Campsie was stumped.

Later, the city learnt that the fleet had made its way into Lough Swilly and set up base about twelve miles away at Inch Island.

Henry declared the ships’ captains to be immoral or unworthy men. ‘Where are they? Are we all to waste away before they reach us?’

His listeners, Robert, Daniel, James Morrison and a few others, were as mystified as he was.

Robert sighed. ‘They are afraid of the boom smashing up their ships. It’s no use to us either if all that lovely food ends up at the bottom of the river Foyle.’

Henry spat, refusing to be appeased by this explanation.

Robert persisted. ‘And it’s not just the danger of the boom. I mean, how many Jacobite cannons are poised on
the banks of the Foyle to fire upon any ship that dares to approach us?’

‘Ha!’ snapped Henry. ‘They need not worry about the number of guns since they are clearly too cowardly to act. King William would be furious if he was here!’

The idea of their king standing beside them was a pleasing one. James Morrison nodded and said, ‘I bet a lot of things would be different if William was here. Why, he’d thumb his nose at James and say, “I have won! Derry is mine!”’

Completely out of sorts, Henry snarled, ‘Derry is his!’ He glared at James who refused to cower.

Daniel marvelled at James’s cheek as he heard him say clearly, ‘Henry Campsie, are you giving me the evil eye? Do you doubt my allegiance now, along with the ships’ captains?’

Henry would not make a reply.

Tempers were short these days. The guards were hungry, exhausted and by now every man had lost someone to hunger or disease. The sun had not been seen in some time despite the fact that it was the second of July, while the constant smell of rotting bodies, faeces and urine would wear down anyone’s resistance.

Daniel wanted to change the subject or at least move the talk to more positive ground. ‘I bet the Jacobites didn’t think they’d be here so long.’

Everyone nodded to that. One of the other guards added, ‘I’ve heard they’re in a bad way too, thanks to the bad weather and lack of grub.’

Even though he knew it was a silly question, Daniel asked, ‘Why don’t they just go home then?’

His brother sighed. ‘I’m sure they’d love to but they have their orders too.’

The boys stared over at the Jacobite camp that was sprawled behind Windmill Hill. In truth the distance was too great to make out much detail of the foe; nevertheless it was readily agreed that the Catholic soldiers were not doing much on this wretched and gloomy afternoon. As the boys stood together in moody silence, someone’s stomach growled pathetically; surely their bellies knew by now that they could growl all they liked, it was not going to make food magically appear.

‘What’s going on there?’ James peered hard to the right, pointing as he appealed to the others, ‘See? There!’

A large group of people was moving slowly into sight. Daniel strained his ears to hear any sound of voices but there was none to be heard. The people, whoever they were, trudged in silence. If they were coming to Derry, they still had some ground to cover.

Henry called down for a telescope to be fetched, while Robert asked nobody in particular, ‘Are they coming this way?’

James, sounding upset, said, ‘I don’t think they’re wearing any clothes.’

‘What?’ said Henry. ‘Don’t be daft!’

A telescope was put in his hands and the others waited for his report. Immediately he cried out, ‘They
are
naked. I don’t believe this! Someone’d better get Adam Murray.’

Adam arrived to find the boys in quite a state. Not one of them attempted to explain why they had summoned him; instead he was handed the telescope and shown where to direct it. A crowd began to gather below, sensing that something serious was afoot.

Shaking off his wearisome dizziness, Adam put the telescope to his eye. Daniel watched as he clenched his jaw and noted how his knuckles whitened with tension. How many minutes passed before he said anything? And what he said shocked the group. ‘Whatever happens, don’t let them in.’

The boys glanced at one another, hoping that one of their number understood the peculiar order. Robert determined not to ask for an explanation. Looking at the puzzled faces around him, Adam added grimly, ‘You’ll probably know some of them but we cannot let them in.’

So, all they did was stand there and watch as that pitiful group got closer and closer. It was a horrible sight. A crowd of maybe two thousand strong, men, women and children, all shivering as they walked, heads bowed in shame at their
nakedness and bowed in defeat under the lashes of the cruel wind and rain. Daniel gaped in bewilderment.
How had so many people managed to lose their clothes?

Here and there he thought he recognised a face, but it was difficult to be sure. Their nakedness obscured vague recollections about having either seen them in church in St Columb’s or going about their business around the market stalls in the Diamond.

The women and children were crying, while the men looked desperate and useless. Nobody said a word as the crowd approached the gate. The people of Derry looked as uncomfortable as the newcomers.

One man, who walked in front, called out in a hoarse voice, ‘Don’t let us in!’

This was unexpected. Indeed, some of those on the cityside were moved to shout out, ‘What do you mean? Why are you here?’

A young child, watching from the walls, could be clearly heard asking the obvious question, ‘Where are their clothes, Mama?’

The man spoke again, ‘Lieutenant-General de Rosen had us stripped and brought here so that you’d pity us enough to bring us in.’

Accordingly, a sudden cry went out from the residents, ‘Let them in. Open the gates!’

At that moment, Adam was relieved to see newly
appointed Governor Walker make his way through to the gate. He raised an arm for silence as he stood in front of it. Adam stood by, ready to show his support for the reverend, should he require it.

Governor Walker gave a sombre nod to the people outside the gate before turning back to his own. ‘We can’t allow these poor souls in because it is part of Lieutenant-General de Rosen’s plan that we bring them in, divide our remaining food with them and be left with nothing at all in no time.’

Naturally there were those listeners who understood what he was saying, while the more sensitive individuals could not believe their ears, that the church leader was refusing shelter to their neighbours and relatives.

Seeing the disgusted expressions on some of the faces, Adam took a deep breath and moved to stand beside Reverend Walker. He deliberately kept his back to the outsiders because he did not want to see their misery up close in case he faltered in his belief that they had to be kept at bay. He did his best to deafen his ears against the sound of sobbing and hacking coughs while he said loudly, ‘Reverend Walker is right. The Frenchman is trying to trick all of us. This is just a bluff!’

To his mortification he heard a voice behind him say, ‘How can that fellow be so unfeeling? Isn’t it well for him in his coat and boots?’

Adam called back to the man, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the shivering crowd, ‘I am so sorry for your trouble; I truly am!’

The man believed him. ‘You haven’t inflicted this upon us.’ His voice shook with the cold, and it was with an apologetic look that he wrapped his arms around his middle. ‘No, this is not your fault, sir. If Derry falls we all fall.’

Adam and Reverend Walker exchanged a glance as they tried to gauge the response of the city’s population. They needn’t have worried. Adam had hit a nerve when he said the Frenchman was trying to trick them. He could see the realisation in their faces and he felt only scorn for Lieutenant-General de Rosen.
Who did he take them for? Did he not realise that his shameful plan would only make them more determined than ever? What an awful man to put these innocents through such barbaric treatment.

Now, what?
These two words surged from the pit of Adam’s being.
Now, what? Are we to stand here gaping at one another?

However, Governor Walker was already one step ahead of him. He fired out an order. ‘Gather the Jacobite prisoners together and bring them to where they can be seen, to the double bastion between Bishop’s and Butchers’ Gate.’ The governor paused – for effect, no doubt – before adding, ‘and put up the gallows.’

He gave Adam a questioning look, one that Adam
replied to by nodding his head in agreement. De Rosen had left them with no choice.

The prisoners numbered twenty and had been taken alive during the various skirmishes led by Adam. They were allowed to live because, in a siege situation, it is wise to have hostages for such moments as these.

Reverend Walker called for paper and ink and, using the wall itself, began a letter to the enemy. The reverend fought to keep a tight rein on his emotions yet could not help confessing to Adam, ‘I would love to take the opportunity to name them as servants of the Devil, himself. I mean, how else to explain this monstrosity.’ He sighed heavily. ‘But I suppose I have to be polite and professional.’

Not knowing how to respond to this, Adam stared at the governor’s letter. He could not have guessed that it was his personal show of support that boosted the reverend’s confidence. Quite honestly, Governor Walker seemed to be relishing his role as the one who knew exactly what to do.

He wrote large, adding twists and curls to letters that did not require them. He read his letter aloud, ‘To Whom It May Concern …’ To Adam, he said, ‘After all, there are so many of them over there now and who is to know who exactly is in charge? Is it the French, the Irish or the English?’

Adam merely shrugged at this, concerned that there
was a little too much casual conversation on display in front of the downtrodden crowd who had nothing to do except watch the governor and the young colonel. How he wished that they would move away to where he didn’t feel their sorrowful eyes upon him.

‘Wait a minute.’ The reverend had thought of something else to write and scribbled hard against the wall. He said to Adam, ‘I’m a God-fearing man, as you know, and I’ve explained that we will hang our prisoners if these refugees are not allowed home. But I’ve added that we’ll allow their priests in to prepare them for death. It shows them that we’re serious.’