"Dymock, I've sent for you to undertake a desperate errand. Before I say more understand that whether you elect to take this business in hand or not is left entirely to your discretion. I will not order you—I merely ask. Now, you are a native of Derry, I believe? You know the coast well?"
"Not Derry born, your honour," replied the young Ulsterman. "Come from Moville, over yonder. But I claim to know every sandbank and every current in the loch, betwixt the Tuns and Derrybridge."
"Good. Now what I want you to do is this: take a letter to Governor Baker, assuring him that we will take the first opportunity of throwing a stock of provisions into the city. How you will proceed—if you make the attempt, and knowing you as I do I feel confident that you will—must rest with yourself; but at the same time I shall be curious to know how you propose to act. When you have decided upon that point let me know."
"I' faith, I'll do my best, sir," replied Dymock. "And my plans are already laid. I mean to swim to Derry."
"It's a good five miles and in the face of the enemy on both banks," observed Captain Leake tentatively.
"With the tide 'twill be aisy, your honour. High water at the bridge is an hour later than here, off McKenny's Bank. That will give me seven hours' favouring tide, and on a dark night I'll cheat the rascally Frenchman or my name's not Jock Dymock."
* * * * *
At ten o'clock that same night Jock Dymock, stripped and smeared from head to foot with soot and tallow, went over the side of the frigate and entered the long-boat that was waiting alongside. He was unarmed save for a short keen-bladed dagger slung round his neck, while placed within a close-fitting cap was Leake's letter to the Governor of Londonderry.
With muffled oars the boat's crew pulled up stream, guided by the glare of the enemy's watch-fires. The young flood had just set in, but on either hand the vast unbeaconed sandbanks still rose high above the rippling water. Silently the men urged their craft up the channel, taking their directions from Dymock's outstretched hand. The creaking of a thole, an involuntary sneeze, or thoughtless word or exclamation, would be sufficient to draw upon them a heavy fire from the French and Irish musketeers who lay thick on either shore.
Presently, with an almost imperceptible jar, the long-boat's forefoot grounded on the edge of McKenny's Bank. The daring messenger leapt out and waited till the long-boat backed and was lost to view in the darkness. Then, with every faculty on the alert, he set his face resolutely towards the city of Derry.