An English squadron appears,
but is forced to retire.
Schomberg interferes.
Debate in the English Parliament.
Three days after the fight at the windmill, the spirits of the garrison were momentarily raised by the appearance of three English ships. Most of the Irish guns had been moved to the riverside below the town, but the mortar battery was placed in an orchard on the right bank. The frigates exchanged shots with Culmore fort, but the Greyhound took ground, and lay exposed with a heavy list. Even with this advantage the garrison of Culmore could not sink her, but some French gunners were brought up, who made nine good shots out of fourteen. Nevertheless, the vessel got off with the tide, having been hit seventeen times. The experience gained was enough to show that it would not be easy to relieve the town by water. A week later Kirke’s fleet, twenty-six transport and store ships under convoy of four men-of-war, was descried in Lough Foyle, the fighting squadron under Rooke, with Leake among the captains. But a council of war, comprising both naval and military officers, was held on board the Swallow, where, after the manner of such councils, it was unanimously decided that the thing could not be done. There appeared to be a boom across the river, and it was wrongly suspected that boatloads of stones had been sunk in the channel. As soon as the result of the council of war reached the English Government Schomberg gave the order which saved Londonderry. The sunken ships, he said, were only guessed at, and the boom might not be formidable. Kirke was told to get better information, ‘and to consult for that purpose the sea-officers whether it may not be possible to break the boom and chain and to pass with the ships, and that you attempt the doing of it for the relief of the town.’ A considerable reinforcement of horse and foot was at once despatched. In the meantime Kirke seems to have thought that he could relieve Londonderry by land, and he established a post on the Isle of Inch in Lough Swilly, scarcely five miles from the walls, to which the Protestants of the country round flocked for protection. After sending what help he could spare to Enniskillen, Kirke obeyed Schomberg’s orders, and sailed round again to Lough Foyle. The long delay in rescuing the beleaguered city had caused much indignation in England. ‘When I speak for money,’ said Birch, ‘I would lay the fault where it is. I will not talk of account of money now. ’Tis pity these brave fellows in Ireland should be deserted; we are likely to lose those 10,000 brave men, to our shame all the world over.’ The dreaded boom, he added, could probably be cut, and if not, there was nothing to prevent the landing of a relieving army.[225]
Sufferings of the besieged.
The garrison of Londonderry were never short of powder, in spite of the constant firing. The stock of cannon balls failed before the end of June, and the want was supplied by covering pieces of brick with lead so that the size and weight were right, and good practice was made with these rude projectiles. Food soon became scarce, dogs, cats, and rats being readily eaten and sold at high prices. Rations of salted hides were served out and tallow mixed with starch. The latter compound was found to be a cure for dysentery. At the last distribution, before the end of the siege, the allowance for a fighting man was half a pound of meat and a pound and a half of horse flesh. There were no vegetables, of course, and a handful of sea-wrack or chickweed fetched a penny or twopence. Fuel was not much wanted in summer except for cooking, and there was very little to cook, but fires could be made with the roofs shattered by shell-fire. Only eighty soldiers were slain by the enemy, but famine and sickness reduced their number from 7500 to about 4300, of whom more than a fourth were unserviceable. Governor Baker died on the last day of June, after naming Michelburn to succeed him. Murray was shot through both thighs on July 17, and the starving troops had not the advantage of his leadership during their last feeble sallies. The very last was on July 25, when they issued from the Bishop’s Gate and the Butcher’s Gate simultaneously in hopes of driving in some of the enemy’s cattle. They killed many of the besiegers, but caught no cows, and returned as hungry as before, having lost a few men. Starch was found in the pockets of the slain, and one dying soldier said he had nothing else for five days.[226]
Cruel action of Rosen.
Indignation of James.
Conrad De Rosen was a Livonian, and King James had occasion to call him a barbarous Muscovite, but he was a good officer, and was made field-marshal-general. He wrote French well and knew how to behave in good society, but was subject to fits of rage in which he was little better than a madman. As Hamilton made no progress with the siege, Rosen was sent to see what he could do, and he reached the camp on June 20 with his badly armed reinforcements. His arrival gave some encouragement to the besieging army, which was on the point of dispersing spontaneously. He devoted himself to strengthening the force for guarding the river, and at the same time tried to push approaches up to Butcher’s Gate with a view to blowing it in. His men got so near that the garrison drove them off with stones. The weather was very wet and the ditches filled with water which was kept back by the high tide, so that it was found impossible to work in them. When he heard Rosen’s report, Avaux had little hope of the town being taken. But Kirke was daily expected to attempt something, and Hamilton made an effort to do by treaty what he could not do by force. The town was summoned to surrender on such terms as might be agreed on, with a general promise that there should be no distinction made between Catholic and Protestant. Protection was offered to all, and favour to those who would serve King James. It was particularly insisted that Rosen had no power to interfere concerning the siege, that he was sent only to stop the English succours, and that ‘all conditions and parleys’ depended on Hamilton, who had power to grant such articles as he thought fit. In spite of all this, Rosen took everything into his own hands three days later. He issued a declaration requiring the garrison to accept Hamilton’s terms within twenty-four hours, and to send hostages. Failing this, all the men, women, and children of their party (cabale), whether under protection or not, from Enniskillen to Charlemont, and from Charlemont to the sea, should be driven under the walls, without any provisions or shelter. The garrison might admit them if they liked, otherwise they would have the pain of seeing the death by starvation of their ‘fathers, mothers, wives, children, brothers, sisters, and, in short, all their relations, for not one single one shall be left at home, and they shall have nothing to eat.’ Those who had taken refuge in towns were to be turned out and driven along with the rest. Orders to this effect were at once sent to the commandants at Coleraine, Antrim, Carrickfergus, Belfast, Dungannon, Charlemont, Belturbet, and Sligo, and to the Duke of Berwick, who had a flying column on the Enniskillen side. All mills and houses belonging to the rebels and their adherents were to be burned, all horses and cattle driven off or killed; so that if English troops were to land they would find only a desert. On the same day Rosen wrote to inform King James of what he had done and meant to do. James at once replied that he should have been informed of the Marshal’s plan beforehand, and that he thoroughly disapproved of it, though he had no objection to ravaging the country for military reasons. He positively ordered commanding officers to disobey the Marshal except in that one particular, and to send back to their homes all who had already suffered. He had promised protection to all who lived peacefully, and they should have it. Rosen, who cared nothing for His Majesty’s favour, rejoined that he was much too full of benevolence to rebels, who were thus encouraged in their insolence. James was greatly annoyed at his word being broken and at the General’s presumption in acting without his orders. Avaux tried to plead that the time had been too precious to stand upon ceremony, and that neither he nor Rosen had official knowledge of the King’s promises, but he admits that his arguments had no effect. Melfort, who could not lose such an opportunity of annoying the ambassador, said that if the Marshal had been the King of England’s subject he would have been hanged. ‘I found the expression very strong,’ said Avaux, ‘but made no answer, for the King was already very angry.’[227]