CHAPTER XXIII.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 6, 7 November 1890, Page 21

CHAPTER XXIII.

Arrived at that portion of the road which was bordered by the wood, Roger Leix stationed his men. Those armed with firearms he placed on one aide ; those with pikes, spears, aod othes weapons of defence on the other. Cautioning his officers that no noise should be made, that dead silence should be observed until tbe column of advancing troops should be in their midst, he awaited their coming. The fog. iustead of clearing off, had growo thicker. For some time they lay in dead silence, but no sign of the coming forces waa seen or heard. There were but few of them who had not heard of the atrocities and murders committed by those same troopers around Dublin on defenceless people, and, indeed, in every place where their arms extended ; aud as these things now, in these moments of enforced silence and inactivity, came on tbeir minds, their hearts throbbed with vengeance, and their blood grew to fever heat for tbe moment of retribution. Id ordinary warfare, where personal hostility ia no wise enters into the matter, it is easy enough to arouse the savage instincts of man, but here were added tbe burning elements of hate and revenge raging in each bosom. Llow long it seemed, this waiting ; how slowly the lingering moments passed I Would the hour never come 1 Had they, after all, been deceived, and were their informants misled ? No. They were not misled. For there came on the listening ear?, strung to high tension, the unmistakeable clatter of horses' hoofs, with that uniformity of tread which marks those militarily trained. Presently they came nearer, and whilst hearts beat quicker behiud tbe hedges, or were suspended altogether, ace rding to eacb man's temperament, trotted quietly by — the riders chatting gaily and laughing. They were evidently tbe advance guard, and neither feared nor anticipated the foe. Succeeding them, when they bad gone, came a dull and heavy sound— the tramp of many men marching in column. The confused sounds grew louder, grew nearer ; and the bead of ihe column entered the wood, and marched along tbe road through it, th-ir guos carried ou tbeir should rs, the steel poicts of their bayonet 8 showing to tbe eyes of the bidera like a forest of steel. It was aa awful moment of ens pen se foi- those sheltering in the trees, waiting for them to pass far enongh on ; listening to tbeir tread, their steady, solid continuous tramp, and waiting for the signal I Ou the one side of the wood each man looked to the priming of hh gun with quick, earnest glance, fearful of touching the unsteady trigger, lest > tie slightest noise might betray their presence ; on the other, men quickened ibeir hold on their pikes and pitchforks and scythes, as if they could never hold them securely enough. And all the time, whilst they thus knelt or lay in constrained positions, the column plodded heavily along through the miry road and tbe fog, till, all at once, tbe quick clatter of galloping horses in the fiont came sharply on tbeir ears, over the dull tread of the marching men. What could it be 7 The mounted squadron of Colonel Hugh O' Byrne advancing before tbeir time — imperilling all I No. At once each man guessed what it was — the advance guard coming suddenly on a fue and retreating back on their fellows. They had probably caught sight of the Wicklow men and feared an ambuscade, or returned according to order to report the appearance of an enemy. And whilst this belief smote tbe watchers— lo ! came sharply impinging through tbe fog and trees from the front musket shots—one — two 1 The signal ! Forthwith those with firearms rose to thair feet, thrusting the weapons through openings in the hedge, or otherwise firing in (heir impatience boldly through the thicket, pouring a deadly fusillade into the astonished aud crowded Puritan force, who dreaded nothing less than at ack. Those who had fired knelt down again to load, whilst those who were behind fired over their heads. It all occurred so sharply and quickly that wnen the wafting smoke arose the road was strewn with dead and dying. The order became disorder, and the panic-stricken men were huddled together ia tumultuous disarray,

" Over the ditch and at them t " called out Roger Leix, and in a moment the stalwart forms on the other side leaped to their feet and upon tbe ditch. There was no need for discipline here. The powerful arm, the vigorous thrust, needed no dr 11 to back it. And in a moment the roadway was one scene of fighting men, thrusting, battling, slaying— with no more regard for human life than if it were wild wolves from the mountains that were being done to death ; with no more consideration for the mingled forms than if women's arms had never nursed and fondled them. But moat disastrous of all, most deathdealing of all, was tbe broad bent of scythe as it clove and sheared through bone and muscle, swung by the giant hands that carried it. "No quarter 1 Remember Wicklow 1 Scouadrels and Puritans, murderers and savages I— this is for the children and women you slew and spared not ! " " And thiß 1 " " And this ! " came in hoarse cries as tbe deadly work wtnt on. There was but little time for resistance — the surprise was complete, absolute, overwhelming. The disciplined forces were thrown in confusion on one another, and could not use their weapons, and were ehot down and piked b fore they ould collect their thoughts •ufflciently to make organised resistance. Here and their in the long valley of death, soldiers died, isolating themselves from the crowding mass of their fellow?, making brave and gallant stand, but ineffectually. In tho midst of the dreadful fray, Colonel Hugh O'Byrne with his men came swiftly up. But they made no effort to aid their brethren, for in that narrow lane of slaughter no horses could well move. They had other work cut out for them, and they went at once to it. jgfeThe advance guard having come in sight of his men, where they w«re stationed in a hollow of the road, immediately trotted round and galloped at full speed back. But they had scarcely come near the entrance of the wood than they saw the overpowering assault that was made on their comrades, and that extrication of them was impossible— that they had been caught in a trap. The first instinct present to all men in moments of danger is self-preservation. The unexpected sight of tbe horsemen hidden in tbe valley of the road •truck sudden wonderment and terror into their minds, the deadly fighting and turmoil that burst on their eyes when they returned completed their panic. Facing their horses at stone walls fencing the road, they swept over them and broke in disarray over the low meadow lands surrounding, riding they knew not whither, but anywhere in the blind bewilderment and pan.c of the moment. Raymond Moidaunt, with some otber officers and a batallion of dragoons, had been riding leisurely behind the forco of infantry — indeed, so secure had been their march, and so little sign of hostile force knd tney seen, that they had allowed a very considerable distance to intervene between the two arms of the force. They were within a day's march of Drogheda, where tbe Parliamentary General —Sir Henry Tichburn— was being beseiged by Sir Phelim O'Neill ; Droghed i being at that time a port of ecrcely less importance than Dublin itself, and which both parties were strenu usly contending for — the one to hold, the other to capture. The presence of the considerable aid tuey weie bringing, once within the walls, would materially change the face of hff urs, and the officers wera pleasantly enough discussing the overthrow which the Nonhern rebel officers wouid receive at their hands, whin, all at once, the noise of musketry and fighting filled ihe air. For * moment they paused astounded. The next momen' the order " Forward 1 " was given ; but before they had time to come to the aid of their ambuscaded brothers, the work was well nigh over. A glance at the scene of struggle showed them, when they galloped near, into what a chainel bouse they had been drawn. How tbe troops had fared was palpable enough when they came Dearer — was rendered mure palpable b/ the bauds ot men armed with musk-'ts that, flushed with victory, debouched from the woods to meet them. A hurried consultation was held. "Whi shall be done?" asked Raymond, as h» surveyed the scene btfure him, and saw the p-ril that awai ed themselves, for horseman and sword-blaae were but scant match against the deadly mutiket, with htd^e and ditch intervening. " Retreat — back to Dublio," was tue almost universal advice, " See, not one is left alive of the force of infantry. Ride back, or we are all 1 et 1 " "I say, try Drogheda," said a son of Sir Charles Coote ; " it ia nearer by a day's march." "Yes. and moieover, Lord Moore 1 * force will be on its way to meet us," Sdid Raymond, " will meet us half way. Ride together, gentlemeD, and peek tbe walls of Drogheda." "Oh, Haymond Mordaunt," said a yonng voice, in desperation of terror, '" let us go back, Bring me back. Oh, Raymond, bri^g me back to Dublin atjam." " Wbat, you, Ernest ? Fiightened already? There is hardly the heait of a buy — not io speak of a man — in yuur breast," Siid Raymond, stetmy. '■ Gentlemen, there is not a momen'. to loee — else we are suuouuded aud lost. Over tbe hedge and forwaid 1 Bide beside me, Ernest— here goes for tne walls of Drogheda ! '' And so aajing, Raymond leaped his horse across the low ditch that bordeied ihe road with ihe intenuon of miking a wiie detour, and so making for Tiedath —in which h was prompt y followed by his brother i fficers aud the soldiers. / It was the sight of this escaping force that caught O'Byrne's eye, 1 ashe rode up. At once his resolve was formed. His men he «tnew were no tna'ch, either ,n discipline or numbers, for those now flying in panic disarray across the plain f met in fair field, but the circumstances that has now ansen made ibeui equal. Farther over «*as a valley or a nairuw raviue, between two ext. ndi.ig hills, through whicn tbe galloping horsemen should pass ; there they would be able to come up witu them, and tbe massacre of Wicklow be aveDged on Coote and his raiders — for O'Byrne thought Coote himself was present. Without a moment's consideration he spurred his horse across the

hedge, as bis rival horseman bad done. Waving his sword to his men, and pointing in the direction of tbe valley, they followed him at once. Never before on the plains of Meath, in all the fox hunts her fertile plains have witnessed, were such hot haste seen, as in tbe multitude of h >rsemen that went flying, stumbling, or falling across these stubborn feaoes. But no man lingered behind, and those that fell helped their horses to their feet, and springing into the saddle again were fast after their fellows. A dip of the ground sheltered them from observation of the fugitives, and so the two parties of hostile horsemen were riding towards the one spot — the onejto get into the free, open country and the straight road to Drogheda ; the other to prevent either or both. It could hardly be told at what moment they met. The one body in tumultuous distrray were emerging from the mouth of tbe ravine, when the Wicklowmen came charging at righ' angles with them. In a moment overthrown horses and men aud clashing swords were in profusion. The first col ision caused, in its shock, horses and meo to come reeling to the ground, and over the entanglement thus created, the antagonists struck at and fought with one another; no quarter being given or asked, and no cries breaking the deadly monotooy of i ho struggle. Maurice with his friend had been riding saddle skirts when they came io to collision, b»t the shock was tio graat for th * blown horse which O Byrne roie, aad the animal, with its rider, promptly went down. Maurice was about stooping over his saddle-bow to render him assistance, when a passing trooper aimed a sabre cut at him which took effect in his left shoulder, and as he raised his head he found himself confronted by another, an officer, of whose flight the position of his horse barred the way forcing him to stay his speed, and fight. Maurice had only time to feuce the blow thus made at him when he found himself the centre of a fighting mass of borsamen in which the gleam of sabre was soon dimmed with tho crimaoa of snaoped lives and in which he and the officer were pitted against one another. It was necessary to bend himself to ths work before him, for death hung on quick eye and steady hand, which he did on tbe instant, and, aa a good swordsman, fix id his eyea on tbe other's face. It was not without a start that he saw the features of his opponent — for the face before him was that of Raymond Mordaunt ! " Traitor and scoundrel . Here again 1 " cried the latter, all his haste for flight vanishing as he saw who opposed him, and the frjwn of malignant hate gathered on bis face. " I am no traitor ! " cried Maurice, as he crossed swords with him. "It is you who are traitor I serve truly our lord the King." " Die, th^n I " muttered Raymond, as with sudden effort he withdrew his sword and made a lunge directly at his enemy's heart. " Die, then, villain I " The action was swift and vengeful, but Maurice wa? an expert swordsman, and warded off the blow. " Nay !— by the Heavens above me I— 'tis thou shalt die, Mordaunt ! " His blood was up. He saw it was a duel to the death; and, before his antagonist could place his sword en garde, had raised himself in his saddle, and was about to bring his weapon with force on his hetd sufficieut to cleave him from crown to aaldletroj. The blow never descended. At the moment a furious rush of delayed horsemen came through the mouth of tne valley. They had got apart from their friendpin the fog and lost their way ; but the noise and clash of battle recalled tbem io the right path. Oae of them, passing by, gave Maurice a backhanded blow on the uplifted arm which caused the sword to drop from his grasp, and thaa some hand, sizing the dropped rein, swept tbe s eid on in furious career, a passing blow from the hilt of a broken sword on the head causing Maurice to bend over his saddlebow unc<>as ious. At the s itne mom j nt a stray pistolshot through the head caused Mordaunt's horse to fall. Tne Puritan busrler sour ded the retreat, and, freeing tbemsalves from the dreadf 1 meUe, those whocouH fl j d from the scene of conflict, and, closing tog ther at tne bugle c til, continued their way to<be town w ere safety lay. Horsemen, unknowing of the fallen officer, galloped over him, tbe hoofs striking and gashing him until he became insensible. The fray was over in a 6hort time. It was but a few minu'es. It wa long enough, however for deadly blows to bi exchanged, und the result lay in the riderless horses galloping around and the fallen forms that lay at the mouth of the pass. But it certainly amounted oa defeat for the Wicklowmen, for they had lost as many if not m>re than their enemies, whilsc the greit bulk of the latter had got cleau off. Colonel Hagh hal not ia his haste and impatience estimated the difficulty of stay. ng horsemeo bent on retreating, op what * Urge force it required to prevent resolute or panic-strickea troops from cutting their way through.

Thus ended the battle of Julianstown Bridge, the most complete overthrow woicb the Pirliatnentari i >s sustained until the day wtun Beaburb ad'ied a fresh laurel to toe opposing fotcea. Close on a tuousand picked an 1 trained sold era died in th<3 am ouscade along the lin; ot road passing through the wood ; and, of all the force that with laug i and a mj; rodi out frocn Dublin gatss, not nure taau h ilf a hundred horsemen eniere I the walla of Drogheda. Lord Moore ha^ hear i too 1 .te « f t<ie marcti of the troops fntn Dublin, and of the preparati ma made oy the Irish chiefs io meet them. Instinctively he knew of tb* danger which beset them. The 'arge force which he had dispatched to their aid met the gUloping rors^men some miles from the town, and, terrified with the oewa of tao disaster, returned with them. The fugitives bore the most startling accounts, as fugitives and panic-strickea men will, as to the number aad tquipment of the forces opposed to them.

The news was received ia Dublin with infinite dismay. Tbe Lords Justices dispatchel urgent onssagea to Knglaad for more troops and ammuniaon, and sucnrn >ned to tbe aid of the city all those wi hrn ltcapible of be mag arms, for no onedreant but that the victjnous army would now march straight on tbe capital.

In England the accounts of the defeat ware received with a howl of rage and mortification, and now more than ever was it determined that the rebellion should be put down ani stamped out in

b — B lood. Not oue of those concerned in it nor their race or creed honld be allowed to live in the land. They should be, from father ""o boo, from mother to babe, extermimted with fire and sword — with torch and sabre— and no living being on Irish hillside or valley should bear Irish name again. Meantime, however, there was great rejoicing through the length and breadth of Ireland. The best troops of tha Parliamentary party had come into collision with the half disciplined forces of the people, bad been not m.rely worstei, bat a m<>st annihilate!. Th ■ f tilure of the scheme for the capture of Dublia Castle was atoned for ; tne outrages and maa -acres of a defenceless pc >ple amply avenjel. High with hope and renewed an icipationsof success, the best of Irish youth now marched from all quar era to puc themselves under the banne 8 of the Irish leadtrs — gleaming ii the g 'Idea light of victory. But thtre w^is ore to whom this h >ur of triumph bore but lit le permanent rejoicing ; and there was one to whom it came as a bji^ment of dreadful fate. The first was Boger Leix, on whom, as we have seen, tin shadow of fi >al defeat lay wih prophetic heaviness. Toe failure of the deap and far-r-aching plans ha hid laid, by such a simple incident, crated a belief in ul iraate fii!u r e si deep that no chance victory, however bright and glorious, could remove Jt. And the second was Chirles I. King of England. Ha had bjen accused of— -he had indeed bi^ei known, through ths M irquis of Antrim and others — of conniving at, if not enouragtn^, the rising ot th ; Irish chiefs ; but the storm of savage ragd and execration with which this overwhelming victory of the rebels was received in England ehook the very heart in him siting on his rocking throne. He not only disavowed all connection with the rebellion, but issued orders, so fir as orders by him were capable of execution, that the most strenuous efforts should be made to put it down. But the cloud that had long been settling round him received a darker hue from the blood spilled in the valley hard by Julianstown Bridge. Meanwhile, however, the victorious force, providing tnemselves with arms and ammunition from their falltn enemies, of which they Btood in much need, with much rejoicing marched forward to tha siege of Drogheda— carrying with them such of tbeir prisoners as could bear transport, and among them Raymond M >rdaunt. Amid ample and vast rejoicing and loud acclaim, they entered the camp where the greit Northern lords, stout Str Phelim O'Neil ar their head, kept tLe Puritan forces «losely beleaguered in their reboubtable f ortr. ss. Terrified and alarmed, Parsons and Borlase and the Puritans sent pressing despatches to the Parliamentary forces m England ; and closing their gates in terrible fear lookei gloomily to the North for the coming of Monroe and his ten thousan 1 Scotchmen 1 {To he continued.)