"I give my parole, sir, with many thanks for your courtesy."

"And now, Captain Kennedy," the other went on, "it is probable that you have, about you, the result of your investigations along these roads, which I must request you to hand to me; as it may be as useful, to me, as it would have been to the Duke of Orleans, and may save me a good deal of trouble."

Desmond took out the notebook in which he had, each day, jotted down the result of his observations, with suggestions as to the points where repairs were most needed. He had each night, on his return to Badajos, written up his reports from these, intending, when he had completed the work, to take it himself to Madrid.

The general glanced through the notebook.

"You have done your work very thoroughly, Captain Kennedy, and have rendered me considerable service. Now, we will move forward again. Please follow with my aides-de-camp."

These were two pleasant young men, who were glad of a talk with an officer from the other side.

"How long have you been riding about here, if it is fair to put the question?" one said.

As the notebook contained all the particulars of his journeys on that side of the frontier, Desmond replied at once:

"Eight days, I think. I have been up the road to Portalegre, and by that to Lavre; and if I had not, unfortunately, accidentally heard of this road over the mountains, I should now be on my way to Madrid; but luck has been against me."

"Promotion must be very rapid in your army," the other aide-de-camp said, "or you would hardly be a captain already."

"I was fortunate enough to attract the notice of the King of France, and the Duke of Berwick, on various occasions, and when one has such a piece of good fortune as that, promotion is rapid."

"It is lucky for you that you fell into the hands of the Earl of Galway, instead of into those of the Portuguese generals, who would probably, in spite of your uniform, have made short work of you."

"I did not know that the general was the Earl of Galway," Desmond said. "Certainly, it was lucky that I fell into his hands. Indeed, if I had not seen the English uniforms, I should have turned and charged the squadron behind us; preferring very much to be killed fighting, than to be hanged or shot like a dog."

In a few minutes they met the squadron of cavalry, who had, as the general supposed, been sent out by the Governor of Elvas to meet him. Half of these now took their place in front, and the remainder, drawing aside to let the party pass, fell in behind. Mike had, without orders, fallen in with the earl's escort; and more than once Desmond heard his laugh, as he chatted with the troopers. On arriving at Elvas, the general directed his aides-de-camp to obtain a room, for Desmond, in the house in which they were quartered; and as no one attended to him, Mike undertook his usual duties as his servant.

The next morning, one of the aides-de-camp came in, and said:

"The general wishes to speak to you, Captain Kennedy."

On entering the general's apartment, the earl asked him to take a seat.

"I could not see you yesterday evening," he began, "as I was learning from the Governor the state of the stores here. I should like to have a talk with you. May I ask you, in the first place, how you have so early attained the rank of captain? My aide-de-camp tells me that you said you had attracted the notice of the King of France. It must have been by some singular action, and as I have an hour to spare, before I ride out, I shall be glad if you can tell me some particulars about yourself; unless, indeed, they are of a private nature."

"Not at all, sir. The story is generally known to members of the court at Versailles, and indeed to all Paris;" and he then related to the earl the story of his release of Anne de Pointdexter from her imprisonment, the journey to the south, the attack on the party by the Vicomte de Tulle, and her second rescue from him.

"Thank you, sir," the general said, when he had concluded. "I am not surprised that, after so romantic an adventure, the King of France took notice of an officer who had shown such courage and intelligence. You see, sir, that you and I are, to a certain extent, in a similar position. From motives of religion, principally, you Irish have left your country, and are fighting for a foreign monarch. I, as you are doubtless aware, belong to a French Huguenot family, and, being forced to leave France by the severe edicts, entered the service of Holland, and followed the fortunes of King William, and am now fighting against the troops of the country of my birth. In other respects, there is a similarity. We have both lost a hand in the service of our adopted countries; I at the siege of Badajos, and you at—?"

"Oudenarde, sir."

"I have been thinking it over," the general went on. "I might, of course, send you to Lisbon as a prisoner, but one extra prisoner would not largely benefit my government. You have not been taken in action. Your papers have saved me an immense deal of trouble, for we are no more able to rely upon the information given by the Portuguese than, I should think, the Duke of Orleans can upon that of the Spaniards.

"Therefore, sir, I think that, in the present case, I can make an exception to the rule. In an hour I shall mount and ride down the road to Badajos, and I shall there restore your liberty to you, and permit you to recross the frontier. It would be a thousand pities that so young and gallant an officer should waste, perhaps, some years of his life in an English prison, for the number of prisoners taken in Flanders is so great that it is impossible for the French to find officers to exchange for them. You will understand that, dealing with allies so jealous and susceptible as the Portuguese, I can hardly take the step of releasing you, as it would be at once rumoured that I had been in communication with a French officer, doubtless from some sinister motive.

"I think, Captain Kennedy, that it would be as well," he said with a smile, "that you should withdraw your parole, and do so before we start, in the presence of the officers of my staff. Of course, you must be placed under a very strict guard, and although so near the frontier, you will find it very difficult to escape. Still, such things are managed."

"I thank you most deeply, sir," Desmond said, understanding the tone in which the earl spoke, "and I shall ever retain a deep feeling of gratitude for your generosity."

When the party assembled, in readiness to mount, Desmond walked up to the earl, and said in a tone that could be heard by the officers round:

"Sir, I have changed my mind, and beg to be allowed to withdraw my parole."

"You are at liberty to do so, Captain Kennedy; but nevertheless I shall take you with us today. I shall not, of course, ask you to give any information as to matters on the other side of the frontier, but there are points on which you could inform me, without detriment to your friends."

"That I shall be happy to do, sir."

The earl called up four troopers.

"You will place this officer and his servant between you," he said, "and keep a vigilant lookout upon their movements."

Desmond had not even told Mike of the conversation with the earl, thinking it better that he should remain in ignorance that this escape was connived at by an English general, and his follower was therefore greatly astonished when he heard that his master had withdrawn his parole, and that they were henceforth to be strictly guarded. The party rode until they reached a rise from which they could obtain a view of Badajos, and of the country extending far up the valley of the Guadiana. The ground in front of them sloped gradually.

The earl took his place with two or three officers of his staff, fifty yards in front of the rest, and, dismounting, examined Badajos with his telescope. Then he asked one of his aides-de-camp to bring Captain Kennedy to him.

"You may as well bring his servant, too," he added. "No doubt he knows the country as well as his master does, and may not be so unwilling to answer questions."

The order was carried out, and Desmond and Mike rode up with the aide-de-camp, followed closely by the four troopers. The earl at once began to question Desmond as to the names of the villages visible up the valley. He had remounted now, but his staff, who had dismounted when he did, remained on their feet, as it was evident that he had no intention of moving forward for some time.

While they were speaking, the earl, accompanied by Desmond, rode forward some twenty yards, as if to obtain a better view. Mike had followed him, but the four troopers remained behind the group of officers, having no orders to follow the general so closely.

"This is good ground for galloping, Captain Kennedy," the earl said quietly. "You are within two miles of Badajos."

"Thank you deeply, sir.

"Now, Mike, ride for it!" and, spurring his horse, he dashed off at a headlong gallop.

There was a shout of surprise, the officers of the staff ran to their horses, which were being held by the orderlies, and the four troopers at once galloped forward, snatching their carbines from the slings.

"Do not fire," the earl shouted as they passed. "Take them alive."

As the officers came up, the general signalled to them to stop.

"Don't go farther, gentlemen," he said. "The troopers will doubtless overtake them; but for aught we know, there may be a Spanish force in the village just on the other side of the frontier, and, instead of capturing two prisoners, you might be taken or shot yourself; and I am not disposed to lose any of my staff, just as we are about to commence operations in earnest."

Desmond looked back. He saw that only the four dragoons were following.

"They will not overtake us, Mike," he said, "our horses are certainly better than theirs."

Indeed, they had increased their lead fast. A few minutes later, they heard a trumpet call in their rear, and their pursuers at once checked their horses, and rode back in answer to the recall.

"Tare an' ages," Mike exclaimed, "but that was nately managed. Who would have thought that they would have let us give them the slip so easily!"

"Well, Mike—but this you must never mention to a soul—the earl gave us this chance of escape, I believe. He had, you know, a long talk with me, and said that they had so many French officers captured in Flanders, that one more or less would make little difference. He had asked about my adventures, and seemed much interested in them, and remarked that our positions were somewhat similar, both being exiles on account of our religion, and so serving in foreign armies against our own countrymen. At any rate, it was on his suggestion that I withdrew my parole not to attempt to escape."

"Then he is a rale gintleman, sir, and mighty obliged I feel to him, for I have had enough of English prisons, though indeed, it was only three or four days that I stopped at Harwich."

The party on the hill had watched the pursuit, until the earl said:

"Well, gentlemen, I fancy he has slipped from our hands. I admit that I am hardly sorry, for he was a very fine young fellow, and it would have been a pity for him to be spending, perhaps some years of the best part of his life, in prison.

"Captain Chetwynde, will you order the trumpeter to sound the recall? They are leaving our men behind fast. It is no use losing four troopers as well as two prisoners."

More than one quiet smile was exchanged between the English officers, for, from the tone in which the earl spoke, they had no doubt that he was by no means sorry at Desmond's escape, and that possibly he had even taken him forward with him to afford him a chance of making it. They had, indeed, been a little surprised that, when Desmond withdrew his parole, the earl had not ordered him into strict confinement, instead of taking him with him on his reconnaissance.

The pursuit over, Desmond rode on at a canter to Badajos, and reported to Colonel Crofton that he had been taken prisoner, but had managed to effect his escape, as he was but carelessly guarded.

"I shall now, sir, return to Madrid. I have completed the work I was told to carry out, and shall finish writing up my report this afternoon, and start tomorrow morning."

"I congratulate you on your escape. The Portuguese are not very particular, and might, as likely as not, have paid small regard to the fact that you were in uniform."

"Fortunately, sir, it was not by them that I was captured, but by a small party of English dragoons, who were, I fancy, like myself, investigating the state of the roads."

Desmond had not been called upon to give evidence before the commission of enquiry, it being found that all the contractors had left their homes, a week before the troops arrived at Badajos, taking all portable property with them. Some had apparently gone to Andalusia, while others had made for Catalonia. All had unquestionably made a considerable sum of money by their frauds, and would take good care not to fall into the hands of the French.

"They will never be able to return here," Desmond remarked to Colonel Crofton.

The latter smiled.

"You do not know these people yet, Captain Kennedy, or you would not say so. Some of these fellows are certainly among the richest men in the province, and we may be quite sure that, in a very short time, when the affair has blown over, they will, partly by influence and more by bribery, obtain from the central junta an order that no proceedings shall be taken against them. Anything can be done with money in Spain. There are many upright and honourable Spaniards, but very few of them take any part in public affairs, and would not associate with such men as those who are in the ascendant in all the provincial juntas, and even in the central body in Madrid.

"In France there is distress enough, and no doubt the men who farm the taxes are no more scrupulous than they are in Spain, but there is not the same general corruption, and the French nobility, haughty and despotic to their tenants as they may be, are not corrupt, and would scorn to take a bribe. Now that there is a French king on the throne here, there may be, when matters have settled down, some improvement; but it will be a long time, indeed, before the nation can be regenerated, and even the king will soon find that, if he is to reign peaceably, he must not interfere too violently with methods that are so common that they have come to be accepted as inevitable, even by the people who suffer by them.

"I can assure you that I, myself, have been many times approached by men who supply forage and other things to the regiment, and when I have indignantly refused to entertain any proposals whatever, they have not been at all abashed, but have said boldly that it was the general custom. I do not believe they thought any the better of me for refusing even to listen to their offers, but regarded me as a sort of Don Quixote, with ridiculously exaggerated ideas of honour."

On the morning following his return to Badajos, Desmond started on his way to Madrid. Although this time he had no apprehension whatever of a planned attack, he thought it safer and better to travel north from Badajos, and skirt the foot of the sierras until he reached the banks of the Tagus, where there was a strong garrison in each of the towns, and the country was, in consequence, free from the incursions of bands from the hills. The journey passed without an incident, and on reaching Madrid and presenting his report, he received high commendation from the Duke of Orleans, and spent a long day with the general's staff, explaining his report, and going into details as to the nature of the roads, the repairs necessary, and the positions which were, in his opinion, most suitable for battle.

On the following day, the members of the staff were all summoned to meet him by the Duke of Orleans, who informed them that he had received a sudden summons to return to Paris, and that Marshal de Bay would, in his absence, be in command of the French troops. The announcement came as a great surprise to Desmond, but was not unexpected by the other officers.

During the winter, the King of France had been engaged in efforts to bring about a general peace, and had offered terms that showed he was ready to make any sacrifices to procure it. The allies, on the contrary, were bent upon continuing the war. The victory of Oudenarde, the capture of Lille, Namur, and other fortresses, opened the way to Paris, and knowing the general distress that prevailed in France, they raised their demands higher and higher, as they perceived the anxiety of Louis for peace.

One of the obstacles to this was the situation in Spain, and it was reported that Louis was ready to yield on this point also, and not only to consent to the cession of the Spanish dominion in Spain, but to his grandson Philip surrendering the crown to the Archduke Charles; and that, ere long, the French troops would be withdrawn altogether. While, during the month that had elapsed since Desmond first left Madrid, these rumours had increased in strength, it was known that couriers were constantly passing to and fro, between Madrid and Versailles, with private communications between Louis and Philip; and there was great excitement, in Madrid, at the rumour of this desertion of their king by France.

The rumours were indeed correct. The king had informed Philip that, great as was the affection he bore for him, the state of France, which was necessarily his chief care, would compel him, ere long, to recall his troops from Spain. Philip had entreated him not to desert him, and declared that, in any case, he would remain in Spain, confiding in the support of the people who had selected him as their monarch. At present, however, the communications were proceeding, and nothing definite had been arranged.

The whole of the staff were to remain with Marshal de Bay, in the same position as they had held under the duke, and, except for the departure of the prince, matters went on as before.



Chapter 17: An Old Friend.

The command had been effected so suddenly that Desmond had not been able to make up his mind to request the Duke of Orleans, to whom he had been attached personally, rather than to the French army in Spain, to allow him to return with him to France, in order that he might again join the Duke of Berwick. Before, however, he could decide whether to do so or not, the duke had taken his departure.

Desmond spoke to the head of the staff, with whom he had been constantly thrown in contact before he left Madrid, and whilst explaining to him, on his return, the details of his report, asked him for his advice.

"I should think you had better remain here, Captain Kennedy. There is likely to be a great battle fought, in a few weeks; but if the rumours we hear are correct, we may not be here very much longer. Certainly I hope there will be no change until then, for if we win the battle, and so relieve Spain from the risk of invasion for a time, we can leave the country with a better grace, as Philip would then only have to battle with his rebellious subjects in Catalonia."

"I should certainly not wish to leave when a great battle is about to be fought," Desmond said, "and will, therefore, continue to serve under the Marshal de Bay until it is certain what is going to be done."

In a short time a general movement of the troops, both Spanish and French, began. Desmond and the other aides-de-camp were actively employed in keeping up communication between the various columns, which were to assemble near Badajos. Moving forward at the same rate as the troops, the march was a pleasant one. It was April now, the country looked bright, and the heat was not too great for marching.

The marshal had gone on with the greater portion of his staff, Desmond having been detailed to accompany the division from Toledo. When within two days' march of Badajos, an orderly brought a note from the marshal, requesting him to ride forward at once. This he did without loss of time.

Marshal de Bay had taken up his quarters at Badajos, and on arriving in the town, Desmond alighted at the governor's house.

"It was a stupid mistake of mine," the head of the staff said, "in sending you on detached duty. I forgot at the moment, when I nominated you, that your knowledge of the locality would be invaluable to us. I only thought of it yesterday when, on the marshal asking for some information on this matter, I pulled out your report. He examined it and said, 'This is very complete and valuable, Colonel. Whom is it made by?'

"'By an officer of your staff, sir, Captain Kennedy.'

"'Where is he?'

"'He is coming down with the Toledo column, sir.'

"'Please send for him at once,' he said. 'One of the others should have been detached for that service. He is just the man we want here.'

"Accordingly we sent for you, and here you are."

"This is an excellent report of yours, sir," the duke said, when the colonel introduced Desmond to him. "As we came down, I noticed that the roads had, in many cases, been thoroughly repaired at the points mentioned in your report as being particularly bad, and the bridges in many places greatly strengthened. Had it not been for that, I do not know how I should have got my guns along.

"And now, sir, I want to ask you a few questions as to the road on the other side. By your report, I see that you consider the road through Campo Mayor to be the only one by which an army could move, and that a large body of workmen must be employed to make the other road fit for the passage of cannon."

He then asked a number of questions concerning this road.

"I see," he said, "you have marked several places, in your report, where an enemy coming down that road could post themselves strongly, and others which might be defended to advantage by us."

"Yes, sir; but of course, the suitability of those places would depend largely upon the respective strength of the armies."

The marshal nodded approvingly.

"From all I hear from our agents in Lisbon," he said, "the enemy's forces will be superior to our own in numbers, but the main portion are Portuguese, who have shown very little fight, hitherto. Their cavalry are almost entirely Portuguese. The only really fighting portion of their forces are the English and Dutch, who are most formidable foes; but against these we have our French regiments, on whose bravery we can rely. Were it not that I think the Portuguese will probably, as at the battle of Almanza, fly as soon as the engagement begins, I should fall back and take up a strongly defensive position. As it is, in spite of their superior numbers, I think we can meet them on an equal field."

The conversation lasted over an hour, and then Desmond retired, leaving Colonel Villeroy with the marshal. As he left the house, an officer standing at the door seized his hand.

"My dear Kennedy," he said, "who would have thought that we should have met again here!"

Desmond staggered back. He could not, for a moment, believe the evidence of his eyes and ears.

"Why, O'Neil, I thought you were dead."

"I am worth a good many dead men, yet," the other one laughed. "Let us go into this wine shop and crack a bottle. We can then talk over matters quietly."

"And O'Sullivan, is he alive too?" Desmond asked.

"No, poor fellow. He has never been heard of since that tremendous licking we got. There is not a shadow of hope."

Then many questions were asked, on both sides; and when these were answered, Desmond said:

"Now about yourself, O'Neil. I thought I was the only one that got through safe."

"So you were, for the other three of us were all on our backs."

"But we did not hear of you as among the prisoners, of whom a list was furnished by Marlborough."

"No; the name of Patrick O'Neil did not appear. I was shot through the body, and during the night I lay insensible, but in the morning I opened my eyes and began to think. It seemed to me that the name was not one that would be likely to please. In the first place, because it was evident, by my age, that I was not one of the Limerick men; in the next place, because of that little matter of my escape from the jail in London. I had no fear of being shot. I should be a prisoner of war, but I should not be likely to be over kindly treated, and when they exchanged prisoners I should certainly not be one of those sent back. You see, what with Blenheim and Ramillies and Oudenarde, they had taken ten of our officers for every one of their officers captured by us, so I thought it best to pass as a French officer.

"It was easy to do so, as my French was good enough to pass anywhere, and, you see, I had on a French staff uniform. Luckily my horse had been shot at the same time as I was. He was lying dead beside me, and within reach of my arm, so that I was able to lean over and get my flask from one of the holsters. I had a terrible thirst on me, and could have drunk a barrel.

"As I heard no firing, I knew that the fighting was over; and in two or three hours a party came along with a stretcher, having a doctor with them. When he saw that my eyes were open, and that I was alive, he examined my wound and shook his head.

"'He is badly hit,' he said, 'but you may as well carry him in.'

"So they took me into Oudenarde, which had been turned into a big hospital.

"'You are not to speak,' the doctor said to me, before they lifted me up. 'You must keep yourself perfectly quiet.'

"When they got me into the hospital, they found a hole behind as well as in front, which I heard one of the doctors say was a good thing. They dressed the wounds and left me. I could see by their faces, the next time they came, that they were surprised to see me alive. One of them said to the other:

"'The bullet must have passed through him without touching any vital point. He may do yet.'

"He bent down, and asked me in French what my name was, and I said 'Victor Dubosc, lieutenant;' so they stuck a card with my name over my bed, and asked me no more questions. I lay there for six weeks, and then I was well enough to get up and walk about.

"Three weeks later, I went down with some other convalescents to Ostend, and there we were embarked, and taken to Portsmouth. Then we were put in boats and rowed to Porchester, which is a place at the end of a sort of lake behind Portsmouth. There was an old castle there, with a mighty high wall, enclosing a lot of ground, where there were huts—rows of them—all filled with our prisoners. Some of the huts were a little better than others, and these were for the use of officers. A regiment of soldiers was in tents outside the walls, and a hundred men were always on guard with loaded muskets.

"I said to myself, often and often, 'If Kennedy were here, he would soon hit upon some plan for getting away;' but for the life of me, I could not see how it was to be managed. It was a dull time, I can tell you. The food was bad, and the cooking was worse. Only a few officers were there, most of them being sent to some place a long distance inland; but, as we were all wounded, I suppose they thought that the loss of blood would keep us quiet.

"One of the officers, having a little money hidden about him, bought a pack of cards from an English soldier, and we passed most of our time playing; but it was poor work, for we had nothing to play for. At last, I said to myself, 'Patrick O'Neil, there must be an end of this or your brain will go altogether. It is not worth much at the best of times, or it would have thought of some plan for getting out of this place before now.'

"At last, I hit on a plan. It was a dangerous one, there was no doubt of that; but as I was desperate, I did not think much of the danger. The worst they could do was to shoot me, which I suppose is what they would have done. My idea was to pounce suddenly on one of the sentries, who kept guard all night; to gag him, and tie him up, before he could give the alarm; and then to dress up in his clothes, and take his matchlock.

"But the difficulty was, what was I to do next. The soldiers came on duty for twelve hours, coming in at six in the morning and going out at six in the evening.

"It was clear to me that it could only be done in the dark, and I had to wait for nearly two months. It was the beginning of October before it was dark enough, at six in the morning, for me to fall in with the others and march out without being noticed.

"At last, the time came. I stole out of my hut an hour before the change would be made, and crept along quietly, till I heard a sentry marching up and down between our huts and those of the soldiers. I had torn up a blanket into strips, and twisted them together to make ropes; and with these in one hand, and a big piece ready to shove into his mouth in the other, I stole up close to him; and when he turned his back to me, I jumped upon him. Luckily, instead of carrying the musket on his shoulder, he had it under his arm, so that I was able to seize the lock with one hand, and clutch him by the throat with the other. I gripped pretty hard, and the man, in half a minute, slipped down to the ground.

"Before he could recover, I had stripped off his coatee and cloak; then I tied his hands and feet, fastened the gag firmly in his mouth, and dragged him in between two huts, where he would not be found till morning. Then I took off my own coat and threw it over him, for the night was chilly, and put on his cloak and shako, and took his place.

"In half an hour I heard a tramp of men, and knew the relief had entered. Then there was a bugle call, and two or three sentries passed towards the entrance. I ran on, too. When they fell in, I managed to get in the last section. Some sergeants ran down the line counting the men, and reported that all were present. The gates were opened, and we marched out.

"As soon as we got among the tents, we fell out, and I had no difficulty whatever in getting off without being observed. Leaving my musket and shako behind me, I went up a long lane which brought me on to the main road, crossed that, climbed a hill beyond, and came down into a wooded country.

"At the first cottage I came to, I stopped. A man and woman came out on my knocking. They looked kindly and good tempered, and I told them a pitiful story, about how I had been unjustly accused of striking an officer, and had been sentenced to two hundred lashes; and that I had managed, in the night, to cut a slit in the back of the guard tent and escape.

"As I had been walking along, a sudden thought had struck me. At Oudenarde, I was wearing the same boots I had worn when we were captured together. When we took the money out, we each left, if you remember, five pieces of gold in one of our boots, which I had never thought of till that day; and, as I came along, I opened the sole and took them out. It was a perfect godsend, as you may guess.

"The man and his wife expressed such sympathy that I did not hesitate to say: 'I want to get rid of my coatee, and of this cloak. The coatee would be of no use to you, and you had best burn it, but the cloak, if you alter it, might be useful; or, if you cut it up, will make a cover for your bed. I will give you that and a gold piece—it is a French one I got in the wars, but you can change it easily enough, when you go into the town marketing—if you will give me a suit of your clothes.'

"This the man readily consented to do, and the woman set before me a large bowl of milk, and some bread, which I ate as soon as I had put on a pair of breeches, smock, and broad hat. Now I felt perfectly safe. They might send news all over the country of the escape of a French officer, but as I had never spoken a word of English, from the time that I was taken, no one would suspect a countryman speaking English to be the man whom they were in search of.

"After leaving the cottage, I travelled quietly to Rye. I thought it best to go there, for it was likely that it would be difficult, elsewhere, for an unknown man to get a passage to France, and it struck me that the man who took us across before, would carry me over the first time he was going with despatches. I found him easily enough, and though I was not dressed quite in the same way as I was when we called on him before, he recognized me at once.

"'Another job for me?' he asked.

"'Not a special one,' I said. 'I am going across again, but there is no occasion for you to make a special trip, and indeed my employer forgot to give me an order upon you. I should have gone back, if I had remembered it, but I thought you would not mind giving me a passage the next time you sailed across.'

"As the man remembered that we had made ourselves pleasant on board, he agreed at once to take me, next time the boat should be going. I laid out a pound in getting a coat more suitable for travelling in France than the peasant's smock. Then I took a lodging in a small inn.

"Three days later, a messenger came down with an order for the man to take him across at once, and as the captain charged me nothing for my passage, I had enough left to pay for my place in a diligence, and on arriving in Paris duly reported myself, at the barracks, as having returned.

"My first enquiry, of course, was about you and O'Sullivan. I found that he had never been heard of, but that you had lost a hand, and had been promoted to a captaincy; had been very ill, and had gone to the south of France on sick leave.

"After I heard that, I remained for two or three months at the depot, and then learned that the Duke of Berwick had just arrived from Dauphiny. I at once went to see him. He told me he could not put me on his staff again, as his numbers were complete, but would give me a letter to the Duke of Orleans, asking him to employ me in that capacity. When I got down here, I found that the duke had left, and that the Marshal de Bay was in command.

"On reading Berwick's letter, he at once appointed me one of his aides-de-camp. You were away, I found to my great disappointment, and I was sent off into Catalonia, with orders for four battalions to be sent at once to Badajos. I arrived here yesterday, in time for the shindy."

"Fortunately, O'Neil, I do not think there is much fear of another Oudenarde. There is no royal duke here, to interfere with our general; and the Portuguese are not to be compared with the Hanoverians, and Dutch, and the other allies that fought against us there."

"I hear, from the others, that you have been occupied in reconnoitring the country."

"Yes, and I was captured, but was fortunately able to give them the slip."

Desmond did not care to tell even his friend that his escape was due to the kindness of the British general.

The next morning, Desmond was sent off to hurry up a body of troops which was still some seven or eight marches away. The news had come that the allied army was in motion, and would probably concentrate near Portalegre. This seemed to show that they intended to invade Spain by Badajos, and the valley of the Guadiana; for, had their aim been to advance up the valley of the Tagus, to Madrid, they would have marched towards Montalvao, and so on by Alcantara to Almarez.

After two days' hard riding he met the column, which, on receiving the order from the marshal to hasten forward with all speed, performed double marches until they arrived at Badajos. Desmond found that the allies had not wasted their time, and that their advance guard was already at Campo Mayor. The Spanish army were posted on the Caya river, a stream that flowed down from the sierra, and fell into the Guadiana at Badajos.

Their position was a defensive one. The army of the allies was known to be some twenty-two thousand strong, of whom some five thousand were cavalry. The Spanish had about the same strength of cavalry, but were inferior in infantry. The number of guns also was about equal, both sides having about forty cannon.

On the 7th of May, the two armies faced each other on opposite sides of the river Caya. As neither party made any movement of advance, Marshal de Bay determined to force on an engagement, and sent orders to the cavalry to cross the river, and to place themselves on the road between the enemy and Campo Mayor.

The allies suffered, as the French had done at Oudenarde, by conflicting counsels. The Earl of Galway was in command of the British, and of two or three Dutch regiments. The Marquis de Frontiera was in command of the Portuguese, who formed by far the greater portion of the force, and, as soon as the movement was seen on the other side of the river, he determined to cross and attack the Spaniards.

The Earl of Galway was strongly of opinion that it would not be wise to take the offensive, but that the army should remain in its present position, until the intentions of the enemy were clearly ascertained. Their cavalry, he urged, could do little by themselves, and it was evident that the infantry could not be attacked while they remained under the shelter of the guns of the fortress. The Marquis de Frontiera, however, and the other Portuguese generals, were unanimous in insisting that battle should be given at once, and the former gave orders for the Portuguese cavalry, with a body of foot and five field pieces, to march immediately.

Seeing that, if unsupported, this force must meet with disaster, the Earl of Galway reluctantly ordered the troops under his command to advance. The river was fordable, and they met with no opposition, until they crossed it and formed up in order of battle. The Portuguese horse were now divided on each wing, the British were in the centre; a portion of the Portuguese infantry were on either flank, the rest were in the rear.

"Captain Kennedy, you will carry my orders at once, to our cavalry, to charge the Portuguese horse on the right wing."

Desmond saluted, and was about to ride off, when he paused a moment and asked:

"May I charge with Brigadier Crofton's dragoons, sir?"

The marshal nodded, and Desmond galloped off. Crofton was in command of the first line of cavalry. His own regiment, which was composed partly of Irishmen and partly of Spaniards, was in the centre of the line.

After delivering his orders to the general commanding the cavalry, Desmond rode on to Crofton.

"The cavalry are going to charge, sir," he said, "and I have permission to ride with you."

Crofton waited until the order from the general arrived, and then, drawing his sword, shouted, "The first brigade will charge," and, riding forward, led the way against the Portuguese horse, whose cannon had already opened fire. The Portuguese fell into disorder as soon as they saw the long line of horsemen charging down on them like a torrent, and when it neared them broke and fled. They were soon overtaken, great numbers were cut down, and the remainder galloped off, a panic-stricken mob, and did not draw rein until they reached Campo Mayor.

The Spaniards at once turned the five cannon the fugitives had left behind them upon the allied infantry, and then, after a few rounds had been fired, the cavalry charged the British infantry. But they had now foes of a different metal to reckon with, and although, three times, the horsemen reformed their ranks and hurled themselves against the infantry, they were each time repulsed with heavy loss.

Then, swerving round, they fell on the Portuguese infantry in the second line, whom they dispersed as easily as they had defeated the cavalry.

The Earl of Galway now brought up the brigade of Brigadier General Pierce, which consisted of the two British regiments of Barrimore and Stanwix, and a Spanish regiment which had been recently raised and named after himself. These charged the enemy with great bravery, drove back their infantry for some distance, recovered the five guns the cavalry had lost, and, still pressing forward, fought their way deep into the centre of the Spanish ranks.

Had they been supported by the Portuguese infantry, on their flank, the battle might still have been won. But the latter, in spite of the persuasions and orders of their officers, refused to advance, and, turning their backs, made off in confusion, although not yet attacked by the enemy. Orders were then sent to the Portuguese horse on the left to charge to the assistance of Pierce's brigade. But instead of doing this, they also galloped off the field, and after defending themselves with desperate valour for some time, the little brigade, being unsupported, and being surrounded by the whole strength of the Spaniards, was forced to surrender.

In the meantime the Earl of Galway, seeing that the battle was lost, through the cowardice of the Portuguese, was preparing to withdraw his men, and had only despatched Pierce's brigade to check the advance of the enemy while he did so. Seeing that these, by their ardour, were irretrievably cut off, he gave the order to the Marquis Montandre to draw off the British infantry, who alone remained firm, and against whom the whole of the French and Spanish forces now advanced; while he himself with a small body of cavalry, charged into the midst of the enemy in hopes of reaching Pierce's brigade and drawing it off.

Although weakened by the loss of that brigade, attacked on both flanks as well as in front, and frequently charged by the Spanish horse, among which Crofton's dragoons were conspicuous for their bravery, the retreating British maintained admirable order. Occasionally, when severely pressed, they charged the enemy and beat them back; till they were able to withdraw from the field with comparatively trifling loss, thus saving the flying Portuguese from annihilation. As at Almanza, the whole of the fighting, and almost all the loss, fell upon the English, although a considerable number of the Portuguese were cut down in their flight, before the Spanish cavalry returned to join in the attack on the retiring English. The allies had, altogether, seventeen hundred men killed or wounded, and two thousand three hundred taken prisoners, of whom fifteen hundred were Pierce's brigade; and eight hundred Portuguese, who were cut off by the cavalry.

Among the prisoners were the Earl of Barrimore, all the officers of Pierce's brigade, Lord Pawlet, one of the earl's aides-de-camp, two of his pages, and his master of horse.

After the battle was over, and Desmond had rejoined the marshal, he was sent to ride over the field, and ascertain who had fallen and what prisoners had been taken. Night was already coming on, and, after fulfilling his mission as far as was possible in the confusion, he came upon two Spanish soldiers, with a prisoner.

"Whom have you there?" he asked, in Spanish.

"I don't know, sir. We found him lying under his horse, which, in its fall, had so pinned down his leg that he could not escape. Several others had fallen round him, and it was only when we heard a cry for help that we turned the dead horse over, and found him under it, and then got him out."

Standing close, there was light enough for Desmond to distinguish the prisoner's features. He gave a slight start of surprise, then he said:

"You have done well, my men. Here is a doubloon, to get some drink with your comrades when you get into the town. I will look after the prisoner."

The men saluted and went off, well pleased to have got rid of the trouble of marching their prisoner into the town. Mike, rather surprised, moved up to take charge of the captive.

"My lord," Desmond said, "I will now endeavour to repay the kindness you showed me.

"Do you see that little hut, Mike, just at the edge of those trees? You must hide the earl there. Our cavalry are still all over the country, hunting down fugitives."

The earl, who was scarcely able to walk, his leg having been injured by the weight of the horse upon it, murmured his thanks, but did not speak again until they had entered the shed, when Desmond said:

"Now, General, I will first cut down your riding boot, to ease your leg. Then, if you will lie down in that corner, we will pile this firewood over you. It will not be safe for you to attempt to go forward for two or three hours yet. I have a report to make to Marshal de Bay. When I have handed it in, I will return at once.

"Mike, do you stay near the hut, and if any searching party should come along, which is scarcely likely, for they have all gone farther afield, you can say there is no need to search the hut, as you, with an officer, have already examined it."

In a few minutes, the earl was completely hidden. Desmond then rode into Badajos, and delivered his report to the marshal. He then went to the stables, took out his spare horse, and, leading it, rode out to the hut again.

"Has anyone been here?" he asked Mike.

"Not a soul, sir."

"Take the horses into the wood, then, and stay with them for the present. It will not be safe for the earl to move for a couple of hours.

"Now, General," he went on, as he removed the firewood, "I fear that you have been very uncomfortable."

"I can hardly say that I have been comfortable, sir, but that is of no consequence. The pain in my leg has abated, since you cut the boot open.

"And now, how can I express my gratitude to you, for thus sheltering me?"

"It is but a fair return of services, sir. You gave me my liberty, and I am doing my best to restore yours to you."

"It is all very well to say that, Captain Kennedy. I am the general in command of the British forces in Portugal, and had I chosen to openly release you, none could have questioned me. It was only because some magnified report of the affair might have reached the ears of the Portuguese Government, and given rise to rumours hostile to me, that I thought it best to let it appear to be an accidental escape. You see, I am by no means popular with the Portuguese. In the first place, I am a Protestant; and in the next place, I am constantly bringing pressure to bear upon them, as to the supply of provisions, the making of roads, the proper feeding and arming of their own troops, and other matters of the same kind; and they would be only too glad to have some cause of complaint against me.

"But your case is altogether different, for you are risking even your life in thus aiding me to escape."

"That may be, General, but it was nevertheless my duty, as a matter of conscience, to endeavour to return the kindness that you showed me; and as, at present, your army will hardly be in a state to take the field against us for a long time, I do not feel that I am seriously injuring our cause."

"Well, sir, I shall be your debtor for life.

"Do you intend to remain always an exile, Captain Kennedy?" the Earl of Galway went on. "It seems to me little short of madness that so many gallant gentlemen should cut themselves altogether adrift from their native country, and pass their lives fighting as mercenaries. I do not use the word offensively, but only in its proper meaning, of foreigners serving in the army of a nation not their own. Nor do I mean to insult Irish gentlemen, by even hinting that they serve simply for pay. They fight for France mainly in the hope that France will some day aid in setting James Stuart on the British throne; a forlorn hope, for although Louis may encourage the hopes of the Stuarts and their followers, by patronizing their cause, which it suits him to do because it gives him the means of striking at England, by effecting a landing in Scotland or Ireland; it is yet a matter upon which he must be indifferent, save in his own interest, and in the advantage it gives him of keeping in his service some dozen or so splendid regiments, on whose valour he can always rely."

"That is true, sir," Desmond replied; "and I own I have no great hope that, by the means of French assistance, the Stuarts will regain their throne. But what could I do if I were to return to Ireland? Beyond the fact that my name is Kennedy, I am in absolute ignorance as to what branch of that family I belong to, and have practically not a friend in the country. Were I to land in Ireland, I have no means of earning my living, and should doubtless be denounced as one who had served in the Irish Brigade. I own that I should be glad to return there, for a time, in order to make enquiries as to my family. I was but sixteen when I left, and was kept, as it seems to me, purposely, in total ignorance on the subject. It may be that I was the son of a brave officer of that name, who certainly came over to France soon after I was born, and fell fighting some years before I came out; but I have no proof that it was so, and would give a great deal to be able to ascertain it.

"In Ireland they think a great deal of genealogy, and I am often questioned, by Irishmen of old descent, as to my family; and find it extremely awkward to be obliged to own that I know nothing of it, with any certainty. I have no desire to pass my life in battles and sieges, and, if I survive the risks and perils, to settle down as a Frenchman with an Irish name."

"That I can well understand," the earl said. "'Tis a life that no man could desire, for it would certainly be a wasted one. I can assure you that I think the chance of James Stuart, or his descendants, gaining the throne of England is remote in the extreme. When William of Orange came over, there was no standing army, and as James the Second had rendered himself extremely unpopular by his Catholic leanings, he became possessed of England without opposition, and of Ireland by means of his Dutch troops. The matter is entirely changed, now. England has a strong army, against which a gathering, however strong, of undisciplined men could have but little chance. I conceive it possible that a Catholic Stuart might regain the throne of Ireland, if backed by a French army, and if the people were supplied with French arms and money. But that he would retain the throne, after the French were withdrawn, I regard as next to impossible."

"I cannot but think the same, sir. However, as I see no chance of my being able to go to Ireland, even to push my enquiries as to my family, there is nothing for it but to remain a soldier of France."

"In that matter, I might assist you, Captain Kennedy. I have no doubt that my influence, and that of my friends in England, would without difficulty suffice to gain permission for you to visit Ireland on private business, on my undertaking that you have no political object whatever in desiring to do so, and that you engage yourself to enter into no plots or schemes for a rising. Furthermore, I think I can promise that, if you succeed in your researches, and find that you have relations and friends there, I could, if you desire it, obtain a revocation of any pains and penalties you may have incurred, and a restoration of all your rights as an Irishman. That is certainly the least I can do, after the vital service that you have rendered me—a service that, in itself, shows you do not share in the bitter enmity so many of your countrymen, unfortunately, feel against England."

"I have no such enmity, assuredly," Desmond said. "The choice of coming out here, to enter the service of France, was not of my own making; but was made, for some reason which I have never been able to understand, by the gentleman who had borne the expenses of my bringing up, but who was himself a strong supporter of the English rule, and therefore would have been expected to place every obstacle in the way of my entering the Irish Brigade."



Chapter 18: War.

After hearing Desmond's story the earl asked several questions, and obtained further details of his life when a boy, and of his interview with John O'Carroll.

"It is certainly strange," he said thoughtfully, "and worth enquiring into, for it would seem that he must have some interest in thus getting you out of the way, and in your entering a service that would render it next to impossible that you should ever return to your native land."

"I don't see any possible interest that he could have had in that, sir; but, certainly, I have never been able to account for his conduct."

"It is clear that there is some mystery about it," the earl said warmly, "and were I you, I should certainly take leave of absence, for a time, and go over and get to the bottom of the matter. At any rate, I will at once write to London and obtain a safe conduct for you. This you can use, or not, as you may decide, and can then, if you so please, return and continue your service here.

"Methinks that the war will not last very much longer. France is impoverished, the disasters which have befallen her arms in Flanders have rendered the war unpopular, and in England, in spite of the success gained by their arms, the heavy taxation is making men ask why a war should be continued which may benefit Holland, and the German allies, but can result in no good to England.

"And now, Captain Kennedy, I will be making my way to join the remains of my army. I thank you again, most heartily, for your generous conduct; and, believe me, you may always command my services in any direction. I only regret that these unhappy political difficulties should drive you, and so many of your brave countrymen, into the service of a power that has always been, and so far as I can see is likely to remain, an enemy of England."

"I may say, sir, that Lord Godolphin has, for a certain reason, promised to befriend me; and that, if you write to him on the subject of a safe conduct, I think I could rely upon his taking a favourable view of the matter."

"I will do so, certainly," the earl said. "His power is great. If he is favourably disposed towards you, you may consider the matter as done."

They chatted for some time longer, and then Desmond said:

"I think now, sir, that it would be safe to move. Everything is perfectly quiet without, and I have no doubt that, by this time, the cavalry have all returned to Badajos. However, I will accompany you for a short distance, for you may be stopped by some of our advance posts. You had best take the cloak and hat of my follower, and, as I am well known, no questions will then be asked."

"By the way," Lord Galway added as, Mike having brought up the horses, he mounted; "where shall I send a letter to you, with your safe conduct? We are in communication with many persons at Madrid, and can pass a letter through the lines at any time."

"When there, I lodge at the house of Don Pedro Sarasta, in the Calle del Retiro. I will request him to forward any letters to me, should I be absent."

The earl made a note of the address in his pocketbook, and then, putting on Mike's cloak and hat, started with Desmond, who passed him without question through the lines of outposts; which were indeed but carelessly kept, as it was certain that, after the signal victory that had been gained, it would be a long time before any enemy would venture to attack them.

Two days after the fight, the Marquis de Bay moved forward with his army, with the intention of fighting another battle; but Galway and Frontiera had, by this time, reorganized their forces, and occupied so strong a position, near Elvas, that he could not venture to attack them. However, he occupied the country for a considerable distance beyond the frontier, subsisting his army upon the provisions and forage collected by his cavalry in the villages and small towns. As it was evident that, after the proof given of the inability of the Portuguese to withstand any attack, there was no probability of offensive operations being renewed by the allies; and, the heat becoming intense, the force was withdrawn across the frontier and went into quarters, the general returning to Madrid, where he received an enthusiastic welcome from the inhabitants.

By this time, however, the knowledge that the king of France was entering into negotiations, which would necessitate his desertion of Spain, greatly excited the population against the French stationed in the capital. They were hissed and hooted when they appeared in the streets, and for a time, the indignation was so great that the troops were ordered to remain in their barracks. The king himself, however, gained rather than lost popularity, as he issued a proclamation to the people, saying that, having accepted their invitation to be their king, he would remain with them until driven from his throne by force; and he confided absolutely in their affection, and aid, to enable him to withstand any foes who might attempt to dethrone him.

In the autumn another change occurred. Although, in order to obtain peace, he had granted all the demands, however exorbitant, of the allies, and had undertaken to withdraw his troops from Spain, Louis stood firm when to these conditions they added another, namely, that he should himself undertake, by force, to dethrone his grandson. This monstrous demand united, at once, both those who wished to continue the war rather than grant such humiliating terms as those which had been insisted upon, and the party who were in favour of peace, even at that cost. The negotiations were abruptly broken off, and the French troops, who were already on the march towards the frontier, received orders to remain in Spain.

Now that he had O'Neil with him, the time in Madrid passed more pleasantly for Desmond than before. He was frequently away for several days, carrying despatches to the commanders of the forces in Valencia and Barcelona. In the capital the French were again regarded as friends, and as several successes had been gained and places captured, in Catalonia, the hope that the civil war that had so long been waged was approaching its end, and the confidence engendered by the victory on the Caya, made the people doubt whether any attempt at invasion from the west would be contemplated, and they gave themselves up to gaiety. Balls and fetes were frequently organized, and at these the French were among the most honoured guests.

Early in the spring preparations were made for active operations. Lieutenant General O'Mahony had just returned from Sicily, where he had rendered distinguished service. In the previous year, Crofton had been made a major general, and two new regiments of Irish infantry had been formed, of deserters from the enemy in Catalonia and Portugal. These were commanded by Colonel Dermond M'Auliffe and Colonel John Comerford. These two regiments, with another under Colonel Macdonald, marched from Madrid in April.

As the Marquis de Bay was not yet moving he offered O'Mahony, who had the command of the force, the services of Desmond and O'Neil as aides-de-camp. The offer was a welcome one, for, as none of the men in the newly raised regiments was acquainted with the language, Desmond, who now spoke Spanish well, would be far more valuable to him than Spanish officers could be.

For two months the little force moved about in Catalonia, the rapidity of its marches baffling the attempts of the archduke's forces to interfere with its operations. These were principally directed against various small fortresses, held by partisans of Charles. Several of these were captured, thus clearing the roads they guarded, and opening the country for the more important operations that Philip himself was about to undertake.

It was not until July that the royal army approached Lerida, where O'Mahony's force joined it. General Stanhope marched, with the troops under his command, and encamped at Balaguer; where he was joined by Baron de Wetzel, with some troops which had been brought from Italy. As Stanhope's force was insufficient to give battle until joined by the main army of Charles, he marched, on the 31st of July, headed by two English and two Dutch regiments of dragoons, to secure the passes near Alfaro, and so check the advance of the Spaniards.

After performing a long and difficult march, they took up a defensive position. Stanhope found, however, that the river in front of him was so low that cavalry and artillery could pass easily, and even infantry could cross without difficulty. Scarcely had he taken up his position when two brigades of infantry and nineteen squadrons of cavalry were seen approaching, having been detached from the Spanish army to occupy the position which had been secured by the rapidity of Stanhope's march. They therefore waited for their main army to come up, but before it did so, the whole of Stanhope's force had arrived, and was prepared for battle.

Although it was past six o'clock in the evening, Charles, on his arrival, decided to fall upon the enemy before they could encamp, which they might do in a position in which it would be difficult to attack them. Fourteen cannon at once opened fire from an eminence, whence they commanded the position taken up by the advance force of the Spaniards. This position was on low ground in front of the ridge upon which the village of Almenara stood, and nothing could be seen of the force that lay behind this ridge.

The advanced force of Spaniards ascended this ridge, as soon as the artillery opened upon them, and General Stanhope obtained leave from Marshal Staremberg, who commanded the archduke's army, to charge them. With ten squadrons of horse he rode up the ascent, and there, when he gained it, saw to his surprise twenty-two squadrons facing him, flanked with infantry, and supported with another line of cavalry equally strong. He sent back at once for fourteen squadrons from his second line, and when six of these came up he advanced against the Spaniards, who at the same time moved forward to meet him.

The cavalry on Philip's left at once gave way. The centre and right, aided by the fire of the infantry, made a stout fight, but were driven back by the English and Dutch cavalry. The fighting was severe, for of the six English squadrons who charged, two hundred men and twenty-one officers were killed or wounded.

Philip's second line of cavalry gave but feeble support, and Stanhope's horse soon had them all in confusion, and, driving them from the field, pursued them hotly. The fugitives dashed into their own infantry, who were just arriving in force, and their panic communicated itself to them, and a total rout took place. The pursuit was kept up until it was so dark that the troopers were unable to see each other's faces, and they then halted, having defeated the Spanish without the aid of their infantry, which had not come up in time to take any part in the fight. Much of the baggage, together with tents, many cannon, and a quantity of ammunition, fell into the hands of the victors. Owing to the darkness, the number of prisoners taken was small.

O'Mahony and his troops had taken no part in the engagement, as, having arrived late on the previous evening after a long march, they were still at Lerida. It had not been deemed necessary to hurry them forward, as no battle was expected to take place for some days—as, indeed, would have been the case had the force sent forward arrived at the river before Stanhope.

The routed troops arrived under the shelter of the guns of Lerida. Charles did not attack them there, but, making a detour, seized several places in Aragon, with the intention of cutting the line by which Philip would probably retire, and forcing him to fight again. Philip, however, on his part, marched from Lerida in order to retire into Castile by way of Saragossa. Charles followed hotly, and a portion of his cavalry came up to the rear of the enemy in the defile of Penalva. Here the Spaniards posted a strong force of grenadiers, and the defile being too narrow for the cavalry to act, these dismounted, and a hot fight took place, in which both parties claimed the victory. However, Philip retired the same day in great haste. Charles, arriving three hours later, ate the dinner that had been prepared for his rival.

The Spaniards, covered by the defence of the pass, crossed the Ebro and posted themselves in a strong position within a mile of Saragossa. On the 21st of August Marshal Staremberg, with his generals, having reconnoitred their position, gave orders for the attack to take place the next morning, and at daybreak the cannon on both sides opened fire. General Stanhope, who commanded on the left wing, found that the enemy had the greater part of their cavalry facing him, and therefore strengthened his force by four battalions of foot and six squadrons of Portuguese horse.

The Spanish line ran obliquely, from the river on their left to a steep hill on their right, occupied by their cavalry and a battery of artillery. These, therefore, were much nearer to the attacking force than were those on the plain.

The battle began at twelve o'clock, Charles's force marching in two lines, with the exception of Stanhope's cavalry and infantry. These, from their situation, were the first to come in contact with the enemy. The four battalions first pushed forward up the hill, and, driving the Spanish cavalry back, allowed Stanhope's horse to ascend the hill and form on its crest. The battle speedily ranged along the whole line. The Spaniards, with superior numbers, gained ground on their left. Here O'Mahony's corps were stationed, and they drove a portion of the allies across the Ebro again; but this success was more than counterbalanced on the other flank, where Stanhope's cavalry and infantry carried all before them. The latter, posted in a hollow, opened so heavy a fire upon the Spanish infantry, as they advanced, that they fell into disorder; and as their cavalry were driven off, hotly pursued by Stanhope, they fell back upon the centre, which they threw into disorder. Seeing that the battle was lost, the Marquis de Bay gave the order to retire.

Two hours after the first shot was fired, the rout of the Spanish centre and right was complete, but a considerable portion of the troops were rallied by de Bay at Alagon, three leagues above Saragossa. The left wing, under Generals Amezaga and O'Mahony, were checked in their course of victory by the disaster which befell the centre and right; but, maintaining their discipline, they fell back in good order, and rejoined their defeated comrades at Alagon.

All the cannon and most of the colours of the regiments forming the centre and right fell into the hands of the victors. The loss of the allies was about two thousand men, killed or wounded; and that of the Spaniards and French three thousand killed and wounded, and between five and six thousand prisoners. Philip rode at once to Madrid, and on the evening of the battle the archduke entered Saragossa; while de Bay retired, with the broken remains of his troops, towards Navarre.

Desmond and O'Neil, who had ridden behind O'Mahony, saw the Spanish troops of the archduke yield before the impetuous attacks of the Irish regiments, who, as they pressed their foes backwards, burst into loud cheering, believing the victory already won. Presently, O'Mahony stopped the advance.

"We must not push too far forward," he said. "It seems to me that things are not going so well in other directions. Our centre is being pressed back. What is going on on the right I cannot say, but the enemy seems to have gained the top of the hill, for our cannon there are silent. If the centre is driven back, those we have now beaten will rally, and we shall be taken in flank by the fire of their centre. Therefore, let us be content with what we have done, and wait and see how things turn out elsewhere."

Even before the rout of the Spanish right, their centre was yielding, for opposed to them were the British and Dutch regiments, whose attack they were altogether unable to withstand. It soon became clear that, at all other points on the field, the battle was going against the Spaniards, and an aide-de-camp presently rode up, hastily, with orders from Marshal de Bay for his left to fall back and retire to Alagon.

Deep was the rage and disappointment among the troops of O'Mahony and Amezaga, as they faced about and set out on their march. They were unmolested. The troops they had beaten were in no disposition to follow them, while the allied cavalry and the infantry of their centre were in full pursuit of the rest of Philip's army, the remnants of which the little force joined, at Alagon, before nightfall.

It was some days before the archduke's army moved forward again. The troops were exhausted by the long marches they had made, and there was a difference of opinion among the generals as to the course that had best be followed. The king wished to pursue the beaten enemy and, if possible, to intercept their march towards France, but Count Staremberg and Stanhope were of opinion that they should first occupy Madrid, and then march into Navarre, so as to bar the advance of fresh French troops into Spain, and at the same time open communications by sea with England, whence they could be supplied with reinforcements and stores of provisions.

Finally, Charles gave way, and the allies marched towards Madrid. The main portion of the army halted at Alcala, a day's march from the capital, and General Stanhope marched on with his division to Madrid, which opened its gates without resistance, Philip having retired with his army. Charles entered the city on the 28th of September, 1710.

The alarm, in France, at the news of the defeat at Saragossa was great, and Louis at once despatched the Duke of Vendome to command there. The latter, travelling fast, and gathering up the garrisons of the towns through which he passed, crossed the frontier at nearly the same time as Charles entered Madrid, and effected a junction with de Bay's army; which had, by this time, been increased by some fourteen thousand men, drawn from the garrisons of towns in Navarre, Castile, Galicia, and Valencia.

Vendome had no doubt that the intention of the allies, in marching upon Madrid, was to open communication with the Portuguese, and determined to throw himself between the capital and the frontier. Marching with all speed, he encamped near Salamanca on the 6th of October, and thence moved to Plasencia, thereby securing the bridge of Almarez, and preventing the Portuguese from joining Charles.

Had it not been for the usual indecision and want of energy on the part of the Portuguese Government, the junction might have been effected before Vendome arrived at Plasencia, for both Charles and Stanhope had, after the victory of Saragossa, written urgently, begging that the Portuguese army should at once advance and join them at Madrid; and that, at any rate, if the whole army could not move, at least the troops in the pay of England should push forward instantly. Stanhope, indeed had marched with his division to the bridge of Almarez to facilitate the junction, and had defeated a Spanish force guarding the bridge. However, the Portuguese did not arrive; and when a messenger brought the alarming news that a Spanish and French army had occupied Plasencia, Stanhope fell back towards Madrid.

As large French reinforcements were known to be approaching the frontier, and Philip's army was already much superior in numbers to that of the allies, it was decided, in a council of war, to evacuate Madrid. The forces which had occupied Toledo and other towns were recalled, and, early in December, the army left the capital; the archduke riding at once to Barcelona, while the army, of which Stanhope's division formed the rear guard, followed in the same direction.

The movement had been delayed too long. Vendome and Philip were already at hand, and on the 9th fell upon Stanhope's division at Brihuega. This force, consisting of eight English battalions and the same number of Portuguese horse, defended themselves desperately, and although the town was wholly without fortifications, they repulsed every attack until their ammunition was exhausted, and they were then forced to surrender. Staremberg, on hearing that Stanhope was attacked and surrounded, turned back and marched with all speed to relieve him, but on arriving within three hours' march of the town, heard that he had surrendered.

The Duke of Vendome, hearing of his coming, drew his troops out and formed them in line of battle, and the next morning attacked him vigorously. The allied right held their ground, but the left fled, and Vendome swept his right round and took the centre and right of the allies in the rear. Three battalions of the second line, however, fell in turn upon the French rear and repulsed them, and the left wing, rallying again, renewed the battle.

The combat was indecisive, both parties claiming the victory. Staremberg wrote to Charles that he had captured all the enemy's guns, and had killed six thousand of them; while the French claimed that they had totally defeated the allies, and captured all their cannon, killed four thousand, and taken nine thousand prisoners. The balance of probability lies to some extent with the French, for the day after the battle, Staremberg retired and marched to Barcelona; but the fact that he was not at once pursued shows that the French and Spaniards must have suffered very heavily.

Desmond had passed unscathed through the battle of Saragossa. O'Neil had been severely wounded, but had managed to sit his horse until the division effected its junction with the Marquis de Bay's shattered forces. Great was the wrath among the two Irish regiments at the issue of the battle.

"What is the use," an officer said to Desmond, "of our throwing away our lives, fighting for these Spaniards, when they themselves are useless, save when they meet the Portuguese, who are still more contemptible? Here have we, on level ground, fairly beaten the enemy, while the right and centre, although having a great advantage in position, allow themselves to be scattered like a flock of sheep."

"They had stouter foes to meet than we had," Desmond said. "We had only Spaniards opposed to us, while they had English and Dutch to fight; and as the best French troops have found, in Flanders, that these were at least a match for them, we must not blame the Spanish too severely for giving way before they were attacked."

"There is something in that, I admit, Kennedy. It seems to me that, in this war, it would be much better if the Spaniards and Portuguese had both remained at home, and allowed the French and us fight it out with the English and Dutch. The battles would have been small, but at least they would have been desperately fought."

"But it would be absurd, Moore, for us to lay down our lives in a struggle in which those principally concerned took no part whatever, and which was of no great interest either to us or to the English. After the way in which Louis was ready to throw over Spain and Philip at the beginning of the year, the Spanish alliance can be of no great advantage to him, and I do not think that even Philip's orders would induce a Spanish army to march across the frontier to assist France. Therefore, as Louis can gain nothing by the Spanish alliance, why should he weaken himself by sending forces here to maintain Philip on the throne?"

"But with the Archduke Charles here, he would have an enemy on his frontier. Philip might not assist him, but Charles would be actively hostile. The English and Dutch troops would be pouring into the peninsula, and we should have another Flanders in the south of France."

"Well," Desmond said, after a pause; "the best way I can see out of it is for both Philip and Charles to withdraw, and allow the Spanish to elect a Spaniard for their king; or, if they could not agree to that, which I don't suppose they could do, choose some foreign prince belonging to a petty state which stands altogether aloof from European affairs, and seat him on the throne. If, again, they would not accept him, England and France should mutually agree not to interfere in the affair, and let the Spaniards indulge in civil war as long as it pleases them."

Moore laughed.

"It might be a good solution, Kennedy, but there is no more chance of Philip or Charles renouncing their pretensions, or indeed of the French on one side and the allies on the other permitting them to do so, than there is of the world becoming an utopia, where war shall be unknown, and all peoples live together in peace and amity."

"Well," Desmond said, "for my part, I am sick of fighting in quarrels that do not concern me, and when this campaign comes to an end I shall, if possible, rejoin Berwick. The cause of the Stuarts is not advanced, in the slightest, by what is taking place in Spain, and if I am to fight, I would rather do so where victory would benefit us."

"I don't know that you are not right," the other assented. "It certainly seems a pity that the best blood of Ireland should be spilled, in Flanders and Spain, in the service of a foreign country. To my mind, the terms of the surrender of Limerick were disadvantageous both to Ireland and England. England has gained a number of inveterate foes who, with good and wise treatment, might now be fighting in her own ranks. Ireland has lost her best blood, men who were her natural leaders, and belonged to the old families, whom all respected."

"I am sure it was a mistake," Desmond said. "If the terms had been an absolute equality in all matters of religion, and the free pardon of all, without confiscation of their property or other disability, it would have gone far to reconcile our people to defeat; for they would have seen that they could not hope for more than the right of free exercise of their religion, if the Stuarts came to the throne again."

"Perhaps you are right, Kennedy. I know that I myself, had it not been for the persecutions and the priest hunting, and the closing of our chapels, should never have thought of leaving Ireland and taking foreign service. But now there is no going back."

"No, I suppose not," Desmond said, gloomily. "Nothing short of an amnesty, ensuring freedom of worship, and perfect civil equality to all, would induce the majority of us to return to Ireland; and, indeed, it is not easy to see what we could do if we got there. The estates of our fathers are in the hands of strangers. We should soon be altogether without resources, and we should be almost driven to conspire again, even though success would in no way mend the matter.

"However, there is no chance of such an act being passed, for, even if the English Ministry desired to do so, the Protestant feeling in England and Scotland would be too strong for them; and Parliament, which strongly represents that feeling, would reject the bill by an immense majority."

"Then there is nothing to do but to go on fighting," Moore said.

"I see nothing else for it, Moore, but I own that I do not care for the life. I have had three years of it now, and don't like the prospect of another thirty."

"You have been fortunate, too, Kennedy!"

"Yes, I have been fortunate in the way of getting promotion; fortunate that I was not, long before this, put under the sod; but it is no great gratification to be a captain, and though in another thirty years, if I live, I may be a general, I don't think even that would reconcile me to the life. It is just as hard, and a good deal more responsible; and if thirty years passed over, and the Stuarts were not restored, they assuredly never would be, and I should have wasted my life for nothing."

"Well, I am very glad," Moore laughed, "that all our fellows do not look at it in the same light as you do, but take things as they come. I don't bother myself about the future."

"It is a good thing," Desmond said, "and it is the national character to take things as they come. I dare say I shall get into the same way, some day, but just at present, I suppose partly because we have got a thrashing, I feel rather down in the dumps."

Desmond continued his duties as aide-de-camp to O'Mahony, and took his share in the various operations, that ended with the army going into winter quarters and Philip making a triumphant entry into Madrid. Then he went to the general.

"General, I wish to ask leave to return to France, at any rate for a time. The Duke of Berwick, when he despatched me to join the staff of the Duke of Orleans, said he would reinstate me on his staff as soon as the duke no longer required my services. When the Duke of Orleans left, I was handed over with the rest of the staff to the Marshal de Bay, under whom I served in the battle of the Guadiana, and until, as you know, I was detailed to accompany your brigade. Now that the campaign is over, I should, at any rate, like to pay a visit to the Duke of Berwick, under whom I served at Oudenarde. I have, therefore, come to ask you to dispense with my services, and to permit me to return to France."

"Certainly, Captain Kennedy. Your assistance has been of great value to me, but there is no chance of anything being done during the winter; and, as many of my officers are now beginning to speak Spanish, they will, should they remain here till the spring, be able to get on very fairly. I shall be pleased, before you start, to furnish you with a testimonial stating the services you have rendered me. Indeed, I have, more than once, mentioned them in my reports."



Chapter 19: In Search of a Family.

On the following day, Desmond left the brigade, and, followed by Mike, rode for Madrid, where was still lying a letter which had arrived, some months before, from England. He had not asked for it to be forwarded, for if he had been killed, and it had been found on him, it might do his memory a great disservice, as it would seem that he had been in correspondence with the British. The letter, which contained an enclosure, was, to his surprise, from Lord Godolphin. It ran:

Dear Captain Kennedy:

Partly at the request of the Earl of Galway, and still more from my own remembrance of your conduct, in that affair you know of, and of the silence that you maintained concerning it, I have pleasure in sending you a safe conduct to visit Ireland on private affairs. The earl tells me that you have rendered him the greatest of services, and this alone should cancel the fact that you have been serving against us in Flanders and Spain. For this, and your conduct to myself, I can promise you that should you, at any time while I am in power, decide to remain in Ireland, I will obtain for you a full and complete pardon, and a restoration to all your rights as an Irish subject of the queen. I will also obtain a reversal of any attainders or acts of confiscation that may have been passed against your family, on your giving your promise that you will not take part in any secret plots or conspiracies against the reigning family, though, in the event of a general rising in Ireland, with the assistance perhaps of a French army, you would be at liberty to choose your own course of action, without incurring more pains and penalties than those which might befall any native of Ireland waging war against the queen.

As both Godolphin and Marlborough were known to be by no means unfavourably disposed to the cause of the Stuarts, Desmond was hardly surprised at the latter part of this intimation. Though he had but small hopes of being enabled to remain permanently at home, it was yet very welcome to him. Certainly, if he remained in Ireland he would consider himself bound to hold himself aloof from all Jacobite plots, although, if the country rose and a French army landed, he would, unless he considered the cause a hopeless one, draw his sword on behalf of him whom he considered as his lawful sovereign.

"It is not sorry I am, your honour, to be turning my back on this country," Mike said, as they rode out from the gate. "The wine is good, which is more than I can say for anything else in it, except that the people are good Catholics."

"I am starting a longer journey than you think, Mike. I am only going to the duke, now, to ask for a year's leave; though I do not think that I shall be absent more than a few months."

"And where are you going, your honour, if I may make so bold as to ask?"

"I am going to Ireland, Mike."

Mike looked at him with astonishment.

"To Ireland, your honour? Sure they will hang you, before you set your foot a week in the country."

"I have obtained a safe conduct, Mike, from Lord Godolphin. You remember him, the nobleman we kidnapped?"

"Sure I remember him, your honour; and he has given you a safe conduct? It is in luck you are, to be going back to Ireland again."

"It is not a visit of pleasure, Mike. I am going over to try to ascertain to which branch of my family I belong."

"And what can it matter, your honour? It's a good name you have made for yourself out here."

"I have done well enough, Mike, but I am tired of being asked, by almost every officer I meet, about my family, when in fact I know nothing myself."

"Well, Captain, it does not seem to me worth troubling about, for if you don't know who they are, it is little they can have done for you."

"It would seem so, Mike. There is a mystery about the whole affair, and I want to get to the bottom of it."

He rode silently for some distance. He knew that Mike would go through fire and water for him, and that, simple as he seemed, he had no ordinary amount of shrewdness; and he determined to tell him all he knew, especially as he intended to take him to Ireland with him.

"Mike," he said at last, "I suppose you would like to pay a visit to Ireland, also?"

"I should that," Mike said, emphatically. "I was but eighteen when I came out here to enlist in the brigade—that is twelve years ago now, and it is few people would be likely to know me again."

"Well, I am thinking of taking you with me, Mike; and, as possibly you may be of use in my search, I will tell you my story."

And he related the history of his youth.

"He must be an unfeeling baste, to treat you like that," Mike exclaimed indignantly. "Sure I know the name, and have heard him spoken of as a traitor who had gone over to the enemy, and turned Protestant to save his estate."

"That is how you would hear him spoken of, Mike, for it is true; but as to his treatment of me, it all depends whether I was forced upon him by threats, or was taken by him out of friendship to my father. If it were the first of these reasons, he cannot be blamed for keeping me at a distance. If the second, he certainly ought to have behaved differently. But neither explains why he, a supporter of the usurper, should have sent me out to France to fight against the English. It is a hard nut to crack."

Mike agreed. "Mighty hard; but your honour will get to the bottom of it, never fear. And why are we going to the duke, master?"

"To get leave of absence. I cannot disappear suddenly, without asking for leave. I shall, of course, tell the Duke of Berwick exactly why I am going, and I feel sure he will grant my request, without hesitation. There is no fighting to be done, just at present, and even if there were, one officer more or less would make no difference.

"Have you any relations in Ireland, Mike?"

"None that I know of, sir, barring a sister, who was twelve years older than myself; and it is little I saw of her, for she married when I was a bit of a gossoon. Her husband was killed in the siege of Limerick, and I heard that after it was over, she went to settle with some cousins in Cork. Whether she is there now, is married again, or is dead years ago, is more than I can say, seeing that I have never heard of her since."

"Was she with her husband in the siege of Limerick?"

"She was that. I heard about her from some men who knew her husband. They said, after he was killed, she went as a servant in the family of an officer and his wife for a bit, but the officer was killed, and the lady died of grief and trouble; and it was hard work she had to live till the place surrendered. That is all I know about it, your honour. It might have been true, and it might not. I was but a boy, and maybe I bothered the man with questions, and he just told me what came into his head to keep me quiet."

"Well, at any rate, Mike, as we shall most likely land at Cork, you might try to find your sister out. If she went through the siege, she will know the names of many of the officers. She may have heard of a Kennedy."

"Maybe of half a dozen, your honour. As loyal gentlemen, they would be sure to be there."

"What was her name, Mike?"

"Sure it was the same as my own before she married, just Norah Callaghan."

"So I suppose, Mike," Desmond said with a laugh; "but what was the name of the husband?"

"Rooney. I have not thought of it this many a year, but it is sure I am that it was Rooney; and now I think of it, a message came to me from her, just before I left the country, saying that should I ever be in the neighbourhood, it is glad she would be to see me; and I was to ask for Mrs. Rooney, who lived with her cousin, Larry Callaghan, a ship's carpenter, in Middle Lane, which I should find by the river bank."

"Well, that is something to go by, Mike. Of course, she may have moved away long since; but if her cousin is a ship's carpenter, it is not likely that he would have left the neighbourhood."

"I wonder your honour never asked about the Kennedys from some of the officers who were at the siege?"

"I did not like to do so. The colonel came to the conclusion that I must be the son of Murroch Kennedy, who came out soon after Limerick surrendered, and was killed at Breda two or three months after he joined the brigade. The officers agreed with the colonel that this gentleman was probably my father, and of course I was contented that it should be supposed so, and therefore I asked no questions about other Kennedys. Of late, however, I have been worried over the matter. In the Irish regiments in Spain, as elsewhere, were a number of officers belonging to good old Irish families, and though I have got on well enough with them—in the first place as Berwick's aide-de-camp, and afterwards as on the staff of the generals here—I could see that when, in answer to their question, it was evident I knew little or nothing of my family, there was a sort of coolness in their manner which I could quite understand, counting back their ancestors, as they did, pretty nearly to the flood. At present, it does not make any difference to me personally, one way or the other, but I am convinced that if, by chance, when I get older, I should fall in love with the daughter of an officer of one of these old families, he would not for a moment listen to me, until I could give him some proofs that I had a right to the name I bear, or at any rate came of a good family. Certainly, at present, I could not assure him on either point. I only know that I have always been called Kennedy, and that it was under that name that I was committed to the care of Father O'Leary. That proves nothing more than that it is the name by which John O'Carroll wished me to be called; and it is as likely as not—indeed a good deal more likely—that it was not the true one."

"Well, at any rate, your honour, you have made the name of Desmond Kennedy well known and liked, both among the Irish and French officers, for it is no slight thing that an officer in an infantry regiment should be taken on the staff of the Duke of Berwick."

"All that is very well, Mike; but it will not satisfy me more than it satisfies others. So I am resolved to try to get to the bottom of the affair, even if I have to go direct to John O'Carroll, though I know that the chance of his telling me anything is but slight. The only way, indeed, that seems likely to lead to anything is to call upon as many of the Kennedys as I can discover, and ask whether Murroch Kennedy, who left Ireland after the siege of Limerick, married and left a child of two years old behind him. If so, and that child suddenly disappeared when his father left for France, there would be every reason for assuming that I was the child in question; though why he should have committed me to the charge of John O'Carroll, instead of to one of his own family, is not easily seen; unless the whole of the Kennedys were in such ill favour, with the English Government, that he thought it better to trust me to one who was in good odour with the supporters of Dutch William, and was therefore safe from disturbance in his estates."

"Sure, your honour, you are arguing it out like a counsellor, and there is no gainsaying what you have spoken. I have no doubt you will ferret it out. With such a head as you have on your shoulders, it is hard if you cannot circumvent that ould rascal at Kilkargan."

"At any rate we will try, you and I. While I am visiting the Kennedys, you can be finding out people who were at Limerick during the siege, and gather all they can remember about the Kennedys there."

As Desmond had expected, the duke, as soon as he heard his story, at once granted him leave of absence.

"I hope you may succeed, Kennedy," he said. "It is a poor lookout to be risking death continually in the service of a foreign king. I grant that we have the knack of making ourselves at home, wherever we may be, and there are Irish officers in every army in Europe; but, however successful Irishmen may be, they cannot but long to be among their own people in their own land. And if, as you tell me, Lord Godolphin will befriend you, I for one shall think no worse of you if you settle down at home when you have found your family. I know that if the sword should be again drawn, with a fair prospect of success, you will declare for the rightful king."

"That I should certainly do, sir; and will assuredly give no promise, or undertaking, to abstain from joining any royal army that may be raised in Ireland. But it is not with any intention of settling at home that I am going there, but simply, as I have told you, to discover to what family I belong, so that I can have a right to the name I bear."

"At what port will you embark?"

"I intend to pay a visit, for a few days, to the Baron de Pointdexter and Monsieur de la Vallee, after which I shall cross into Italy. I have no doubt that I shall be able to find some fishermen, at Toulon, who will undertake to land me somewhere near Genoa, where I shall be able to take a passage in a ship bound for England."

"And I suppose you take your servant with you?"

"With your permission, Duke. He has been my companion for three years. He is shrewd as well as brave, and will give me valuable help in my enquiries."

After remaining a couple of days with Berwick's army, Desmond started with Mike, and received the warmest welcome from the Baron de Pointdexter, and afterwards from Philip and his wife. Then they travelled on to Toulon, where Desmond sold the horses and equipments. He left his uniform and Mike's there, and procured two civilian suits. As he anticipated, he experienced no difficulty in arranging to be landed near Genoa. There he found several ships bound for England or Ireland, and took a passage in one that would touch at Cork, on its way to Dublin. The voyage was uneventful, and the ship, which had no great draught of water, proceeded up the river to the city.

"The first thing to do, Mike," Desmond said, as they stepped ashore, "is to get rid of these clothes, whose French cut will at once attract attention. I shall get a suit such as is worn by an Irish gentleman. You had better equip yourself as my servant. No livery is worn here, but any quiet dress will be suitable."

They put up at a small inn, and remained there until a suit such as Desmond desired was made for him, and Mike found no difficulty in purchasing ready-made clothes suitable to his new position. Desmond had taken rooms as Mr. Kennedy, and had asked carelessly if there were any families of that name living in the neighbourhood.

"There is one who lives a short distance out of the town. It is a small house, and shame it is that one of the old family should come down so; but most of their estates were stolen from them after the war. Still, the old man holds his head as if he was still lord of broad acres, and he is mightily respected among the gentry."

The next day, Desmond hired a horse and rode out to the house of Mr. Kennedy, which was some three miles from the town. He sent in his name, and was shown into a room, where a tall man, with a somewhat haughty air, received him not unkindly.

"Your name is the same as my own," he said, "though I do not recognize the name of Desmond Kennedy among such members of the family as I am acquainted with."

"I have but just landed from France, and my object in coming here is to obtain some information as to my father's family. Hearing that a gentleman of the name lived here, I came first to you. May I ask if you were acquainted with a Murroch Kennedy?"

"Surely I was. He was my first cousin. We fought side by side at Limerick. I was not one of those who cared to enter foreign service. My estates were confiscated, and I have ever since lived here on the wreck of my fortune, taking no part in politics.

"My cousin was of a different mind. He did not, indeed, go out at once with the greater part of the army of Limerick, but still, hoping that the cause was not altogether lost, he lived for some months among the mountains, and took part in a rising which was promptly suppressed, and then joined the Irish Brigade; and I received a notification, from one of his brother officers, that he had fallen at the battle of Breda. And now may I ask, in turn, what Murroch Kennedy's relationship was to you?"

"I will tell you, sir. But first, will you kindly inform me whether your cousin left a child about a year old behind him?"

"Certainly not, sir. My cousin was an unmarried man, at any rate up to the time when he left Ireland."

"Then, sir, my questions are at an end. I may tell you that, about the time your cousin left Ireland, I was sent as an infant to the care of John O'Carroll, the traitor, of Kilkargan, and was brought up under the name of Desmond Kennedy. He showed me but little kindness, and, nearly three years ago, I went abroad and obtained a commission in one of the regiments in the Irish Brigade, and now hold the rank of captain. For many reasons, I am anxious to find out what family I belong to. It was assumed, by my colonel and fellow officers, that I was the son of Murroch Kennedy, and I wished to ascertain whether this was true, and with that object obtained leave of absence, and made my way back."

"I am sorry that I can give you no assistance, sir. Assuredly you are not the son of my cousin, Murroch Kennedy; and had you been, John O'Carroll, the traitor, would have been the last man to whom he would have entrusted you. I know well the history of all the members of my branch of the family, and can answer, with certainty, that no child was lost, or missing, or unaccounted for at the time he went out; and as all were loyal gentlemen, none would have had any dealings with John O'Carroll, who betrayed the cause for which his brother died fighting at Limerick. I will, however, jot down, for your information, the other branches of the family of Kennedy and their places of residence, though I fear that there is but little probability of your search being successful, as, during the years that have elapsed since the late war, many must have died. Others, like my cousin, have taken service in one or other of the continental armies. Moreover, there is also a possibility that the name by which you are known is not your own."