Robert gripped Daniel’s arm. ‘Do you want to come with us or go back to Father?’
Daniel reddened under the rude gaze of the others. He stammered, ‘C-come with you’, hardly knowing what he was agreeing to.
‘Well done!’ said Henry, who turned and headed for the guards who were standing inside the gate, confident in the fact that twelve boys were following him.
The two men watched the boys approach with some trepidation.
‘It’s alright,’ said Henry. ‘We just need the keys for a few moments and then we’ll give them back to you. You have my word.’
The guards exchanged a glance and then a shrug as it seemed they simultaneously grasped what might be about to happen. Nevertheless, the first one felt duty-bound to ask, ‘What do you want with them?’
It was Robert who chuckled and said, ‘Guess!’
The more cautious of the two shook his head and muttered, ‘Oh, I don’t know about this.’
Henry had no time for caution and informed the man, ‘If there is any bloodshed today, it will be on your head.’
The two men, who were both husbands and fathers, did not want such a responsibility. They handed over the keys, deciding to trust in these young fellows who seemed unafraid of the approaching army.
Robert was relieved; he was worried that Henry might have physically threatened the guards and God knows what that would have led to.
All this while, the arguments continued around them. The two Redshank officers were still in the same place, the lieutenant’s expression contorted in anger and disbelief. Yes, he had expected resistance but this was ridiculous.
Mr Kennedy, the sheriff, discovered he had a gift for obstinacy. He thought that if he could only keep the army outside the walls then no decision would have to be made just yet, about letting them in or not. He silently thanked whoever had drawn up the documents and forgotten to add in the list of names – even if they were a Papist.
The army was drawing nearer and nearer.
The keys were big. Henry led his own little army to the Ferry Quay Gate and issued instructions. ‘Sherrards, pull up the drawbridge!’
Robert and Daniel ran to do just that, winding up the coiled wheel clock-wise. The people on the streets were too distracted to hear the squeaks and grunts of the bridge. As soon as it was up, the boys slammed the gate shut and locked it, staring at one another in heady delight. There was no time to lose now especially as they could hear cries from outside the walls. ‘Hurry! Hurry! They’re closing the gates.’ Daniel felt deliciously light-headed, and his heart galloped against his chest.
The lieutenant swung away from Mr Kennedy. ‘What are you doing?’ he cried.
No one answered him. The boys were already in full sprint to the next gate.
Within minutes all of the gates were locked: Ferry Quay Gate; Ship Quay Gate; Butchers’ Gate and Bishop’s Gate. The thirteen boys returned to their starting position at Ferry Quay Gate. The Jacobite officers, the town sheriffs, Reverend Gordon, the other churchmen and the citizens who had stuck around to see what was going to happen watched their approach in silence. Daniel wondered if Henry or even Robert were going to make a speech of some sort. However, neither boy said a word. They were bold enough to do something but they knew their place. The speech-making would be left to their elders.
Bishop Hopkins seemed as confused as the army outside, who were making their indignation known at the top of their voices. The lieutenant demanded the boys’ attention. ‘Do you realise that you are locking the king’s army out of its own garrison?’
Henry Campsie, out of breath, from nervousness and running, ignored the angry man. Instead he wordlessly searched the crowd for support. And he found it. Bewilderment and ambiguity melted away, for the most part, as the blacksmiths, the tailors, the servant girls, the housewives, the masons, the guards, the candle-makers, the shopkeepers and the sheriffs suddenly understood what the boys had done and why they had done it.
Mayor Campsie, sensing the crowd’s mood, punched the air with his fist and announced to the lieutenant, ‘Sir, this is our city and it is our duty – as her proud citizens – to keep her safe!’
Daniel heard a baby bawling and saw his parents making their way through to where he and the others stood. He felt his belly plunge. Was his father displeased? Daniel had never caused his parents trouble before. He had never done anything out of the ordinary. This clearly was a first for them all.
Of course the brash Mr Campsie had been the first to react. No surprise there.
Mr Sherrard stared at his sons, not really knowing what to think. Robert struck a pose between delight and guilt, while Daniel, the child who was most like himself, looked a little terrified. Mr Sherrard could only wonder, What on earth do I say?
In the end, his wife took the matter out of his hands, saying, ‘Husband, dear, I’m taking Alice home to feed her.’ Sensing his uncertainty, she suggested, ‘Perhaps you could escort us back?’ He looked at her and she nodded, as if he had said something.
And just like that, they turned and headed for home, but not before Mr Sherrard gave Daniel a brief nod of his head to ease the boy’s mind.
Chapter Five
There was some clapping at Mayor Campsie’s fiery words, no more than a few pairs of hands but it was a start. Heads swivelled left and right as individuals checked with their companions that they wouldn’t be alone if they began to clap too. Smiles were registered and passed along. A few shy cheers were even released.
Henry beamed and shrugged to his friends. ‘It’s alright. We did the right thing!’
Robert was surprised at the relief on his friend’s face. He must not have been as sure of himself as he thought.
His own father’s reaction was a disappointment, but his mother had flashed him a look of pride. At least he had managed to impress one of his parents. It had been like this for as long as he could remember; his mother took his side while his father doted on Daniel. I wonder what Father thinks now, after watching his pet lock out a king’s army.
There was a shout from above. James Morrison roared, ‘Here they come!’
A group of soldiers reached the city wall and demanded to be let in. James made a rude gesture to them. Daniel marvelled at his cheekiness but worried that he was taking quite a risk. All it needed was one soldier with either a rifle or a perfectly thrown rock. James seemed oblivious to the danger of annoying the men outside.
Daniel watched the lieutenant beseech the church leaders to have the gates reopened. Maybe they should tell him about the letter, about the killing on the ninth of December?
Reverend Gordon, the aldermen, the bishop and the others stood close together and appeared to be arguing amongst themselves before uniting to argue with the lieutenant. Mr Kennedy, for one, was pleased with the outcome. He didn’t like the cut of the lieutenant, feeling sure he couldn’t be trusted. They’re a shifty lot, he thought, meaning Catholics, Scots and – quite possibly – anyone taller than him.
Henry returned the keys to the two guards. Now that the deal was done, the guards relaxed into agreement. It was the cautious one who sighed, ‘It had to be done. It just needed someone to take charge.’ Henry shook his hand.
Reverend Gordon disengaged himself from his peers and strode purposely towards the group of lads. The people parted to let him through, curious about his reaction. ‘So,’ he said to the line of boys, ‘you decided to act without us.’
A smattering of tentative ‘Yes, sirs’ was the muted reply.
Reverend Gordon nodded, glancing at all thirteen faces in turn, finally saying himself, ‘Yes, sir!’
Alderman Tomkins joined him and asked, ‘Well, Reverend, what do you make of this?’
Daniel held his breath.
‘I think,’ said the reverend, ‘that I might be so bold as to make a prediction.’
The alderman laughed, saying, ‘That’s not your usual style.’
‘No, indeed,’ smiled the reverend. ‘However, I find myself moved by
the courage of these young fellows. I have a feeling this day will long be remembered.’
Daniel allowed himself to relax.
This time a definite cheer went up from the citizens of Derry. Outside, the would-be visitors tried to work out what was going on. They heard the cheering and still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that entrance to the city was being denied to them. After all, their lieutenant was still inside. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? How much longer would they have stood there, scratching their heads, if cheeky James Morrison had not decided to put them right?
James’s confidence, fuelled by Reverend Gordon’s blessing of the closing of the gates, prompted him to yell, ‘Clear off! The lot of you!’
Naturally, these six-foot warriors were not about to take orders from a scrawny, ill-mannered fool. They remained where they were and just maybe a few imagined the size of the rock that would knock the loudmouth from his stage.
Furious at what he felt was their misguided arrogance, James took the matter further … much further. Knowing that the soldiers could not see beyond his head and shoulders, James pretended to be calling back to soldiers of his own, ‘Hey, you there, bring that gun over here!’ At this, the Scottish soldiers decided that it was probably best to move away. Heads down, they shuffled back to join the rest of the forces. James was immensely pleased with himself, a feeling not shared by everyone present.
Robert heard Alderman Tomkins exclaim to Reverend Gordon, ‘That little fool! Get him down from there.’ The reverend beckoned Robert to him. ‘Do you know that boy?’
Robert reluctantly said he did. He too had been alarmed at James threatening to fire on the soldiers, even if he was only pretending. Locking them out was one thing, firing a cannonball – real or imaginary – was something else entirely.
Reverend Gordon said quietly, ‘You might tell your friend …’
Robert interrupted him, ‘He’s not really a friend, sir. We just played together as children.’
‘In any case,’ said the reverend, ‘tell him that if he ever endangers his city like that again, he shall be locked up for the rest of his days. I’ll see to it personally.’
Robert bowed his head. ‘Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.’
Meanwhile, another party was making itself known. Derry’s resident Catholics were naturally quite shaken by the afternoon’s events. The Presbyterian and Anglican Church leaders merely stood and stared at the dozen or so Catholic neighbours who introduced themselves to the lieutenant. Their spokesman talked quietly. He didn’t want to attract attention; he just wanted to inform the officer that their wishes matched his. ‘We are a friend to King James and truly sorry for how you and your men are being treated.’
Not surprisingly, the lieutenant had been far from impressed with James Morrison’s antics and let the spokesman know as much. ‘I know the boy was bluffing but is that the way things are headed?’
The spokesman sighed, ‘A letter was found containing a warning that all Protestants are to be murdered on 9 December.’
The lieutenant baulked. ‘That’s preposterous. Who wrote it?’
One of the other Catholic men said, ‘It wasn’t signed. Just somebody wanting to stir up trouble, I should imagine.’
The lieutenant thought aloud, ‘I need to contain the situation.’
The first man nodded. ‘What can we do to help?’
Glancing around them, the lieutenant asked, ‘Do you know where the weapons are kept? I presume the garrison is fully stocked. I need you all to go there right now and take command of it, until I can get my men into the city.’
Without a moment’s hesitation, the group of Catholic citizens turned and headed away to do his bidding. There was hope yet that everything would work out peacefully. Most of their wives had begged them to leave Derry that very day, but they had held out, wanting to do what they could to help. Derry was their city too, their home. It was a brave decision, especially when so many of their friends were busy packing up to leave. Also, they had heard that most, if not all, of the Dominican friars had already gone. It was probably just as well since their Protestant neighbours seemed to believe that all Catholics were about to turn into murderers the following night. ‘Aye,’ one of them had said, ‘probably on the stroke of midnight!’
Unfortunately, the lieutenant’s instructions had been heard by more than the group of Catholic men. A rush of whispers floated through the crowd.
Robert heard it first. ‘He’s sent the Papists to seize the weapons!’ Slapping Henry’s arm, he called out, ‘Come on!’
The thirteen boys broke into a run, even though some of them had no idea why.
Samuel Hunt, who clearly enjoyed his mother’s baking, wheezed after Daniel, ‘What’s going on now?’
Daniel, doing his best not to smash into anyone or trip himself up, replied, ‘We’re going after the guns!’
Samuel wished he had a horse or that his friends would slow down a bit.
‘Short cut!’ yelled Robert and led the way. Some skill was required; the street was narrow with plenty of people milling about in the most useless fashion. Robert longed to push his foot up the backside of a woman who had suddenly spotted a friend. She stopped sharply, blocking his way, and was not impressed with how clumsily he slid by her. He gritted his teeth as she exclaimed, ‘Well, I never. You rude, rude boy!’
There was also the delicate matter of not skidding into the smelly splotches of all shapes and sizes that had been left behind by horses, cows and dogs. The street was littered with them. Daniel was forced to quickly tiptoe through a particularly large blob of greenish brown mess. It was the size of a brick, a soft, squidgy brick that did not want to let go of his boot. His mother would have something to say about that.
Robert glanced back a couple of times to check his brother was still behind him. He and Henry were the front runners and kept pace with one another. Robert warned his friend, ‘This could get dangerous.’
Henry winked back. ‘Yes, I know.’
Officer Linegar was not having a good day. His rotten tooth was throbbing with pain, so much so that it felt like it had its own heartbeat in his gum. Because he was on duty he couldn’t do the two things he longed to: cradle, in his hands, the part of his jaw that was aflame with pain and take a drop of whiskey for it. No, he had to stand upright and do his job which was to guard the garrison’s store of guns and artillery. Today it was of the utmost importance that he carry out his duty to the king. Toothache or not, James’s army needed all the help they could get. When he saw a group of boys heading his way, their expressions grim and determined, he suddenly realised that he too was in need of help. In a way he had been waiting for this moment. Surely it had only been a matter of time before a raid of some sort was attempted.
The first two boys hollered their intention. ‘We are taking command of the magazine. Stand down!’
Officer Linegar shook his head, his tooth in agony at the sudden movement. The pain was so bad, he decided against opening his mouth to make a reply. In any case it should be obvious what he would have said, As if I’d take orders from the likes of you! He quickly counted the boys, and understood that they meant to do as they said. His only option was to raise his rifle and force four words out: ‘Halt or I’ll fire!’
The boys didn’t exactly halt but they slowed their pace to a trot. Not one of them had ever had a gun pointed at them before. The guard’s stance was solid and it looked like he would make good on his threat. Nevertheless, Robert was not convinced. ‘There’s too many of us,’ he said. ‘He can’t shoot us all, not that he’d have the guts to!’ He listened behind him for the Catholic men, but they had fallen far behind.
Henry agreed with Robert. ‘He’s right. Stay together. Let’s go!’
The boys broke into a run once more, the ones at the back whooping, ‘Get him!’
This was too much for Officer Linegar. He released the trigger and let fly a musket ball which tore into Henry’s left arm, just above the elbow. Henry howled in pai
n and fright as his limp arm was flung backwards on impact.
Some of the boys faltered, but Robert urged them on. The guard had no time to reload his rifle and he did not want to kill any of the boys. That would only make things worse. Within seconds he was surrounded and pummelled to the ground. As the kicks rained down he hoped that one of them would be decent enough to dislodge his tooth. As far as he was concerned, the beating was proving to be less painful than the evil in his gums.
Robert took the guard’s gun and brought the one-sided fight to an end. He ordered two boys – Alexander Irwin and Alexander Cunningham – to take Henry, who was cradling his wounded arm, to the physician. The rest of them frogmarched the bruised guard to a cell. Robert told him, ‘You should have stood aside.’
Officer Linegar, realising he had done all he could, was philosophical. ‘Maybe so but a man has to do his own particular duty at the end of the day.’ Raising his hand to his cheek, he groaned, ‘Toothache!’
Robert wasn’t interested. The guard felt he had nothing to lose at this stage. ‘You would be doing a fellow a tremendous favour if you procured me some whiskey, you know, should you happen to come across it.’
Daniel couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. One eye was thickening up while his top lip was covered in blood. At the same time, the boy was shocked that Henry had been hurt. Not for one moment did he believe that the guard would actually shoot at them.
Shouting outside indicated that the Catholic residents had finally arrived. Robert laughed. ‘Did they really think we’d allow them to take our weapons?’
The guard sniffed. ‘Your weapons?’ He tried to laugh too but he couldn’t.
Robert ran his fingers over the rifle. ‘Forgive me. Of course they’re not my weapons as such; they belong to Prince William – now.’
Officer Linegar wasn’t done yet. ‘How much time do you think you have?’ he asked.
Robert looked puzzled, so the guard explained, ‘James’s army is right outside the gates. Do you even know where William’s is?’
Behind the Walls Page 4
