Orange and Green - G. A. Henty (the reader ebook TXT) 📗

you have ordered some prisoners to be broken on the wheel?"

"I have given those orders," Ginckle said angrily, "and I will not permit them to be questioned."

"Pardon me," General Hamilton said firmly; "but they must be questioned. There is no such punishment as breaking on the wheel known to the English law, and I and my English comrades protest against such a sentence being carried out."

"But I will have it so!" Ginckle exclaimed, his face purple with passion.

"Then, sir," General Hamilton said, "I tell you that, in half an hour from the present time, I will march out from your camp, at the head of my division of British troops, and will return to Dublin; and, what is more, I will fight my way out of the camp if any opposition is offered, and will explain my conduct to the king and the British parliament. Enough disgrace has already been brought upon all connected with the army, by the doings of the foreign troops; but when it comes to the death by torture of prisoners, by the order of their general, it is time that every British officer should refuse to permit such foul disgrace to rest upon his name."

There was a chorus of assent from the other English officers, while Ginckle's foreign officers gathered round him, and it looked for a moment as if swords would be drawn.

Ginckle saw that he had gone too far, and felt that, not only would this quarrel, if pushed further, compel him to raise the siege and fall back upon Dublin, but it would entail upon him the displeasure of the king, still more certainly that of the English parliament.

"There is no occasion for threats," he said, mastering his passion. "You tell me that such a punishment is contrary to English law. That is enough. I abandon it at once. The prisoners shall be hung and quartered. I presume that you have no objection to offer to that."

"That, general, is a matter in your own competence, and for your own conscience," Hamilton said. "The men have simply, as I understand, defended their property against marauders, and they are, as I conceive, worthy of no punishment whatever. If you choose to sentence them to such a punishment, it is your sentence, not mine. I thought it was your policy to heal the breach between the two parties. It seems I was mistaken. Personally, I protest against the execution of the sentence, beyond that I am not called upon to go. An act of injustice or cruelty, performed by a general upon prisoners, would not justify a soldier in imperilling the success of the campaign by resisting the orders of his superior; therefore, my duty to the king renders me unable to act; but I solemnly protest, in my own name and that of the English officers under your command, against the sentence, which I consider unjust in the extreme."

So saying, General Hamilton, with the English officers, left the general's tent. If they hoped that the protest would have the effect of preventing the barbarous sentence from being carried into execution, they were mistaken. The fact that, to carry out his first intention would have been absolutely unlawful, had caused Ginckle to abandon it, but this made him only the more obstinate in carrying the second into execution.

The English officers stood talking, not far from his tent, in tones of indignation and disgust at the brutal sentence, and then walked towards their divisional camp. As they went, they saw a number of men standing round a tree. Some Hessian soldiers, with much brutal laughter, were reeving ropes over the arm of the tree, and, just as the officers came along, six struggling forms were drawn up high above the heads of the crowd.

The party paused for a moment, and were about to pass on, their faces showing how deep was their horror at the scene, when one of them exclaimed:

"There is an Irish officer, in uniform, among the prisoners! This cannot be suffered, Hamilton. The Irish have several of ours prisoners in the town, and they would rightly retaliate by hanging them on the battlements."

General Hamilton and the others pressed forward.

"Colonel Hanau," the general said to a Hessian officer, "you surely cannot be going to hang this young officer? The general can never have included him with the others?"

"The general's orders were precise," the Hessian said coldly. "Twelve peasants and one officer were to be hung, and afterwards quartered."

"It is monstrous!" General Hamilton exclaimed. "I will go back to the general, and obtain his order for the arrest of the execution."

"You will be too late, sir," the Hessian said coldly. "I have my orders, and before you are half way to the general's camp, that prisoner will be swinging from that bough."

"I order you to desist, sir, till I return," General Hamilton said.

"As I do not happen to be in your division, General Hamilton, and as I have received my orders from the commander in chief, I decline altogether to take orders from you."

Walter, who had resigned himself to his fate, stood watching the altercation with a renewed feeling of hope. This died out when the colonel spoke, and two of the troopers seized him, but at that moment his eye fell upon one of the English officers.

"Colonel L'Estrange!" he exclaimed.

The officer started, at hearing his name called out by the prisoner, but he did not recognize him.

"I am Walter Davenant. You remember, sir, the wreck off Bray?"

"Good heavens!" Colonel L'Estrange exclaimed, pressing forward.

"It is the lad who saved my life, General Hamilton!

"Gentlemen, this young officer saved my life at the risk of his own. I cannot and will not stand by and see him murdered."

The Hessian colonel signed to four of his men, who seized Walter and dragged him towards the tree. Colonel L'Estrange drew his sword.

"My men," he shouted, to some English soldiers who were mingled with the crowd of onlookers, which had rapidly increased during the dispute, "stand by me, and don't let this brave young officer be murdered."

A score of soldiers pushed through the crowd, and ranged themselves by Colonel L'Estrange. He dashed forward, sword in hand, and in a moment Walter was torn from the grasp of the soldiers, and placed in the centre of his rescuers, who were now joined by General Hamilton and the other officers.

Several men had run off at full speed, to the British camp, to bring up aid. The Hessian colonel called upon his men to seize the prisoner, and cut down all who interfered to prevent the general's orders being carried out. These hesitated before the resolute aspect of the English, but the crowd of foreign soldiers ranged themselves with them, and the attack was about to commence, when a number of English soldiers were seen running, musket in hand, from their camp.

The Hessian colonel saw that to attempt to carry out his orders, now, would bring on something like a pitched battle, and he therefore waved his men back, saying to General Hamilton:

"I have nothing to do now, sir, but to report to General Ginckle that I have been prevented, by force, from carrying his orders into effect."

"That you will, of course, do," General Hamilton said coldly. "I shall be perfectly prepared to answer for my conduct."

There was no goodwill between the English and foreign sections of Ginckle's army, and General Hamilton had some trouble in preventing the soldiers from attacking the Hessians, and in inducing them to retire to their camp. As soon as he arrived there, he ordered the drums to be beaten, and the whole division to get under arms. He then despatched an officer to General Ginckle, narrating the circumstances, and saying that the honour of the whole army was concerned in preventing an officer, fairly taken prisoner in war, and not while acting as a spy, from being injured; and that, indeed, policy as well as honour forbade such a course being taken, as there were several officers of rank in the hands of the Irish, who would naturally retaliate on them the execution of prisoners of war. He made a formal complaint against Colonel Hanau, for refusing to delay the execution until he could lay the matter before the general. As for his own conduct in the matter, he said he was perfectly prepared to defend it before any military court, but that court must be held in England, where he purposed to return at once, with the division his majesty had intrusted to his command.

The Dutch general had, long before he received the letter, been informed of what had taken place, and had also learned that the English division had struck their tents, and were drawn up under arms. To allow them to depart would be to entail certain ruin upon the campaign, and he felt that it was more than probable that the course Hamilton and his officers had taken would be upheld by a military court in England, and that public opinion would condemn the execution of an officer, taken in fair fight. He therefore wrote a letter to General Hamilton, saying that he regretted to find that he had been acting under a misapprehension, for he had understood that the person claiming to be an Irish officer was in fact a spy, and that he had severely reprimanded Colonel Hanau for his refusal to delay the execution until the fact had been explained to him. Far from feeling in any way aggrieved that General Hamilton had interfered to prevent such a mistake from taking place, he felt much obliged to him for what he had done, as the execution of an Irish officer taken in war would, in every way, have been a most unfortunate circumstance.

General Hamilton showed the letter to the colonels of the various regiments in the division, and these agreed that, as General Ginckle was evidently desirous that the matter should go no further, it would be as well to order the tents to be again pitched, and for the troops to resume their ordinary duties.

"My dear Walter," Colonel L'Estrange said, "I am happy, indeed, that we came up when we did. What should I have felt, if I had afterwards learned that you, who had saved my life, had been murdered here, for your execution would have been neither more nor less than murder, as was that of the twelve poor fellows who were taken at Kilcowan--a brutal murder! They were perfectly justified in defending their property, and the idea of quartering them, as well as hanging them, just as if they were traitors of the worst dye, is nothing short of monstrous.

"I only came out here with my regiment a month since, but I am heartily sick with what I see going on. It was terrible to see the ruined villages on the road from Dublin. I have seen fighting on the Continent, but nothing to equal the wholesale brutality with which the war is conducted here. How God can continue to give success, to an army which behaves as this one has done, is altogether beyond me. Of one thing I am resolved, whether we take Limerick or not--and I own I see but small chance of it--I shall exchange, if possible, into a regiment serving in Flanders. If not, I shall resign my commission.

"And now, how is your father? I rode out from Dublin to see your mother, and was very glad to find her, and old Mrs. Davenant, well. I was glad, too, to find that, owing to the influence of Mr. Conyers, they had not been troubled; and I was fortunately able, myself, to bring some influence to bear upon the council, who seem to be bent upon squeezing the last drop of blood from the Irish veins.

"But the men are falling in, and I must put myself at the head of the regiment. I will hand you over to the care of an officer, and, if we march out, you will, of course,