As they took their leave the agents warmly gave thanks, believing him to be a stout ally; and, on reaching London, they reported in favour of the Plantation. Five months later (28th January, 1610) the City accepted a grant of County Derry, with the Bann and Lough Foyle, and agreed to “plant” the North. No more solemn State contract is on record. Yet it was cankered from its inception by official duplicity.
When James I. learnt through Sir Randal MacDonnell of the transfer of the tidal Bann to Hamilton he did not realise—angry though he was—that the non-tidal river and Lough Neagh had also been granted away. He therefore promised to reacquire for the Londoners at his own expense what he supposed had been inadvertently parted with. Chichester never openly asserted ownership of the fisheries, for he hoped that a breakdown would occur in the negotiations with the City. These, indeed, were often on the verge of miscarriage; but, as time and argument went on, one obstacle after another was overcome. Finally the agreement of 1610 became the Charter of 1613.
Towards the end of 1610 the agents of the Londoners arrived to take possession of their new estate. Their coming forced the Deputy to change his tactics. He saw that the waters he had seized could not all be retained, and arranged with Hamilton to make a partial surrender of them and seek compensation for the “sacrifice.”
James I., unaware of the pretensions of any claimant to Lough Foyle and the Bann, had covenanted to give the Londoners an unclogged title. They naturally expected that all blots on it would be removed before they made a venture costing (in present moneys) £600,000. The Charter guaranteed that, if necessary, their rights would be confirmed by Acts of Parliament both in England and Ireland.
The “bag” of the Ulster fisheries by Sir Arthur and his partner then stood:—
| Lough Foyle and Culmore | Chichester’s. |
| Lough Neagh | Chichester’s. |
| The non-tidal Bann | Chichester’s. |
| One quarter of the tidal Bann | Chichester’s. |
| Three-quarters of the tidal Bann | Hamilton’s. |
As deserving owners they were ready to make sacrifices for prompt cash to further the royal policy, and yield up what had been contracted to the Londoners. The Deputy modestly kept in the background, and Hamilton represented him as Claims Agent.
With tradesmanlike particularity, the “Scot” sent in a bill to his Majesty through Chichester, who frigidly transmitted it to London as an impartial broker. It prettily set out that Hamilton, with seven mythical partners, disbursed £4,760 in buying up the estates of “sundry persons” in the Bann and Lough Foyle—over and above “the costs and charges expended as well in suits of law as otherwise for the clearing of sundry titles and claims.” This account was vouched by the Deputy as accurate, and his disinterested corroboration of its fairness was accepted by his royal master. Without further investigation £4,500 (or, in modern values, £45,000) was paid to Hamilton in June, 1610.
The King’s undertaking to defray the expense of clearing the title for the Londoners weighed heavily on his cramped resources. Shrinking at the outlay, he refused to provide more than £2,500, and left the balance, £2,000, to be paid by the other victims—the Corporation. Between regal meanness and viceregal greed, the Londoners were effectively squeezed.
The Lords of the Council had, in April, 1609, commanded a trial of Hamilton’s dispute with MacDonnell as to the “fourth” of the tidal Bann; and, although Chichester then showed no sign of compliance, he saw his advantage in reviving the quarrel, as soon as the money was received. He and Hamilton for him had taken “compensation” on making over to the Crown, fisheries which did not belong to them, and which, as regards the Bann, were owned either by the Church or by O’Neill, O’Cahan, and Sir Randal MacDonnell. O’Cahan was a captive, O’Neill in exile, and against neither fugitive nor hostage had any forfeiture been decreed. MacDonnell being a royal favourite could not handily be banished, attainted, or imprisoned, yet his “fourth,” which the Deputy had “put in sequestration pending a suit at law,” was airily disposed of as a chattel of “the Scot’s.” Then a ponderous scheme to “legally” divest Sir Randal of it was thought out. This grotesque conception is described in the staid pages of the earliest volume of law reports officially published to illustrate the wondrous workings of English justice in Ireland when the overthrow of the Brehon Code was decreed. The decision, like that which set aside as “barbarous” the native system of equity, fell from caitiffs robed as Judges, as inferior in worth and reputation as they were in learning, culture, and honesty to the Brehons they replaced.