Behind the Walls (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Y
es, there were cattle to be got. The Jacobites had put them to graze on the grass just behind their lines, not too far from Pennyburn.

Daniel and James reckoned they had been put there, in full view of the hungry guards on the walls, to taunt them.

Robert warned both of them, ‘Keep your rations on you, in your pockets, at all times.’

The two boys nodded at this. Food was number one on everyone’s list and some guards had learned the hard way that it wasn’t wise to leave anything edible lying around.

The three of them and Henry Campsie were standing beside Ship Quay Gate in order to volunteer their services, along with five hundred other men and boys, for the planned big cattle raid.

Despite the tiredness and lack of strength, the atmosphere was one of good cheer.

The last of Derry’s cows had indeed been butchered for meat, all except one. So, as Mrs Sherrard rightly predicted, this precious source of milk – not to mention butter, cream and cheese – was coming to an end.
Something had to be done.

A couple of short streets away, Adam Murray lay awake, bitterly disappointed that he couldn’t join in the raid. He tried to distract himself by reading his bible, but when he came across the words ‘lowing cattle’ he felt too upset to continue. At least he had managed to get word to Gabriel that he was alive and as well as could be expected.

Daniel wondered why one cow had been kept alive, although it did mean that his father could continue to get a little milk for his sister.

So, here they all were, at three o’clock on the morning of Thursday, 25 July – and it wasn’t raining. That in itself was a good enough reason to be cheerful.

As usual, Henry had all the information. ‘Our job is to herd the cattle back here, which sounds easy enough except for the ditches and trenches full of Jacobites that stand between us and the cows.’

James Morrison got so excited at the thought of a hot meal that it triggered a coughing fit. The others stood by, useless to help him catch his breath, as he wheezed and spluttered.

In fact, Daniel was growing more and more concerned about his friend. He had confided in Robert that James was doing poorly these days. His mother had taken to her bed and James was sorely torn between duty to his king and duty to his mother. The stress was taking its toll on him.

Thanks to his father’s profession, and teaching, Daniel could spot the worrying signs. James was constantly trembling with the cold and complaining about strange pains in his bones. His breathing always sounded forced, and once or twice he had actually fallen asleep on his feet. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who had boasted of catching the fastest rodents with his bare hands.

Poor James suddenly found himself the centre of attention when the captain in charge appeared in front of him and said, ‘We can’t have you coughing like that when we go outside. If we can’t surprise the enemy we’re done for! I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here.’

Even if James had managed to speak, he wouldn’t have bothered to argue. He just hoped it was too dark to see the tears in his eyes. As soon as he could, he wished his friends the best of luck and turned away, meaning to climb the walls, to watch the proceedings from there.

Governor Walker called for silence. ‘I just want to say a few words before you go. Keep up your hearts, my dear fellow-soldiers, if you care about your families, your homes, your freedom and, above all, your religion. Take courage. It’s because of our courage and religion that we are persecuted. And it’s for that we shall be glad to suffer for and defend until our last breath. So help us God!’

Every one of those five hundred officers and soldiers made a hearty reply. ‘Amen!’

They were split into three groups: the first would go out by Bishop’s Gate, and the second would go through Butchers’ Gate, to the north-west of the city, while the last group would stand by Bishop’s Gate in case of attack.

Daniel filed out through Butchers’ Gate, following his brother and Henry. Because so many of their guards had died from hunger and disease, there were now enough rifles to go around. Daniel clutched his to his chest, determined neither to look nor be scared. He would have preferred to have James with them and experienced a wrench at leaving him behind. But he had to concentrate on the job at hand.

Right at that moment he found himself missing poor old Horace. His dog would have loved this, going for a walk in the dead of night with all these comrades in arms. Also, Daniel knew that Horace would not have allowed any harm to come to him.

In those few minutes Daniel missed his dog more than he had ever missed anyone in his entire life.

Robert checked his brother was right behind him but he wasn’t making any promises to look after him. Well, he would do his best to protect him, but Robert intended to be busy dealing with the enemy. How wonderful it was to get out of the city, to take control and make something happen. It was now that Robert truly understood why Adam Murray had done what he did, risking lives to shoot
up one trench in the hope of sending men scattering to the winds. Glancing back at the walls, he appreciated their protection but they did make him feel like he was locked up and hidden away from the world.

It was too early for birdsong, too early for that fresh smell of morning that includes every blade of grass, every leaf on the trees and clods of earth. Nothing had a distinctive scent at this hour, although maybe that was because the Williamites’ noses were too full of the city’s stench.

Henry’s thoughts were of death – not his, but of the Jacobites he was about to kill. He smiled to himself as he thought of how he was going to waken them from one sleep in order to put them to sleep again forever. They wouldn’t even have time to realise that those waking moments were the last they would ever have.

The captain, one of Adam’s friends, instructed his group to stop when they were about twenty feet from the walls, in order to load their rifles. Those with flintlock rifles moved to the front to use their bodies as walls for their comrades with the old-fashioned matchlock rifle so that the telltale glow of the burning rope that would light the gunpowder could not be seen.

How loud their footfall sounded in Daniel’s ears, though he could hear something else – snoring. Nobody knew exactly how many Jacobites were asleep in the trench or how many would be keeping watch. Therefore, it was
important to act fast once they were in firing range. Of course Henry and Robert claimed the newer flintlocks, obliging Daniel to take his usual spot behind them.

Making sure his brother blocked him, Daniel shook out his burning rope from beneath his cloak and, pulling back the small hammer of his musket rifle, he set the rope into it, relieved to see the gunpowder spark.

There was a shout from the trench. ‘Halt! Who goes there?’

It was the signal to go, and the front line did, sprinting hard. Daniel ran too, keeping behind Robert. He hardly knew where he was and was almost deafened by his own breathing and thumping heart. The heavy gun suddenly felt like butter in his hand.
Please God, don’t let me drop it!
As if he hadn’t enough to worry about.

He narrowly missed crashing into Robert when the front line came to a sudden stop, raised their muskets and took aim at the dense mass in front of them. This was the plan; they would fire first, and then those with the matchlocks would step out from behind them and shoot. By the time they had finished the front line’s flintlocks would be ready to fire again.

Daniel forgot the one thing that Robert had told him. ‘Remember to close your eyes when you pull the trigger!’

You see, because it was so dark, his old rifle was going to light up like a torch for just a second or two before the
musket ball shot out in search of something soft to plough into.

But Daniel had so much to think about and, furthermore, he found he was not prepared for the confusion.

Over a hundred Williamites bellowed their arrival and their guns sounded out like firecrackers, exploding every few seconds. Once they had been fired, the guns smouldered like campfires.

Daniel couldn’t make out the smoke in the darkness but it caught the back of his throat and made his eyes water. It didn’t matter if he coughed now.

Not surprisingly, the Jacobites were in complete chaos. Hundreds of men were shouting in real panic as they woke up to find themselves in the most dangerous situation: packed close in rows, in a deep trench and now having to find their rifles and try to load them in the dark. There were already plenty of screams, suggesting the success of Derry’s front line in finding targets.

Now that Robert and Henry were behind him, the way was clear for Daniel to shoot. He raised his heavy rifle, pulled the trigger and was immediately blinded.

‘AAGH,’ he shrieked.
No, no, how could I have been so stupid?
Half-blind, he stumbled backwards, knowing that he had to start preparing to shoot once more.

Bodies pushed by him, presumably Robert and Henry. Sure enough, he heard Henry snarl, ‘You little fool!’

Daniel didn’t need his sight to know that this was directed at him.

I can do this! I can do this!
He reached down with a shaking hand, to feel for the bag of gunpowder that was tied to his belt, vaguely aware that he was drenched in sweat. The constant shouting and shooting assailed his ears. Another round of bullets soared into the trench, adding to the mayhem. Men could be heard crying out, ‘I’m hit! I’m hit!’

Daniel dropped the bag and reached for it again, wondering if it was really dark or if he was still blinded from the first gunshot. Somebody tripped over him. ‘Sorry!’ Daniel gasped as the man grunted something appalling.

Again, Henry was in his ear. ‘Forget it. Just move. Charge!’

The running began again and ended just as abruptly. Daniel and the others jumped into the trench, landing on the bodies of Jacobite soldiers, who had, in some cases at least, managed to find swords, pikes or empty guns to hit out with. He lost sight of the other two and, just for a solitary second, was unsure what to do next. Nothing had prepared him for this, but he couldn’t just stand there, hoping to live.

There was a movement to his right; a voice, foreign, exclaimed as something swiped the air just in front of Daniel’s nose. Before he could engage the Jacobite officer,
a figure pushed by him, knocking him over on top of someone else. Daniel peered and recognised the man’s attacker – and his saviour – as Henry, who swung hard with his rifle, cracking it against the officer’s skull.

Where was Robert?

Daniel couldn’t see his brother and now he too had to lash out at whoever he had fallen onto. Somehow he found the room to lift his gun over his head and bring it down on the back of the soldier who was having difficulty finding his own feet in all the turmoil. He hit him as hard as he could; only thinking that if he paused he’d be killed.

Meanwhile, Henry was swallowed up in the rage he had barely contained behind the walls. It all tumbled out now, onto the Jacobite officer’s head, again and again, long after the man stopped begging for mercy and the air around tasted of his blood.

‘Run! Run!’

Well, they all understood those words, Williamites and Jacobites.

Daniel wondered who they were for until he saw who proved obedient with their response.

But what else could the Jacobites do? There was no time to collect themselves and put up a decent fight. If they stayed put, they were going to be bludgeoned, stabbed or – if they were lucky – shot at point blank range. There was nothing the Jacobites could do except climb the hell out
of the trench and retreat as fast as they could.

The Jacobite officer responsible for screaming ‘Run!’ probably did not realise what a terrific idea that was. Run! It was brilliant, perfect even. Because once the initial rush wore off those underfed Williamites, their slender bodies reminded them that they were lacking in their normal strength and speed. The one thing they could not do was give chase. It was impossible.

Undoubtedly the Derrymen had won the battle for this particular trench; within minutes it was theirs, leaving only wounded, dying and dead Jacobites, but perhaps they could have won so much more if only they had been able to pursue the fleeing enemy all the way back to their cattle.

But they couldn’t; they simply couldn’t.

As it was, most of the Williamite men were forced to take a rest amongst the blood and the corpses in order to be able to get back to the city. As they struggled to recover some strength they could hear the cattle in the distance, but they were too far away for the soldiers’ tired limbs.

When the raiding party was ready, they slowly collected what they could: weapons, prisoners, clothing and bits of food. Once the bodies had been stripped of anything that might be useful, they were used as stepping stones to get back out of the trench.

Just like the rest of his fellow soldiers, Daniel stood on heads, shoulders and legs and didn’t allow it to bother
him in the slightest.

He led Henry by the arm or else he would have been left behind. Henry never said a word or made an attempt to wipe the blood from his eyes. The soldier he had attacked no longer resembled a human being, such were his horrific injuries. Daniel looked away in distaste. As far as he was concerned, Henry, for those few moments, had gone quite mad. There was no other explanation for it. The man was dead long before Henry stopped hitting him. In any case, there wasn’t a sound out of him as Daniel roughly pushed and pulled him until they reached the top of the trench. On the one hand Daniel hated him for sneering at him for forgetting to close his eyes, but on the other hand Henry had probably saved his life.