Éirí Amach: Irish Rising (Ireland AAR) [updated: February 22, 2015]

[Alwyn]

Thank you to Merchant of Venice and IneptCmdr for your comments on the previous chapter and to McScottish, Steward Denethor II, Scottish King, Philip O'Hayda, Merchant of Venice and Le Grognard for taking the time to post about the latest chapter. As ever, Philip O'Hayda, the additional material you provide is a brilliant source of inspiration, as you may notice from this new chapter.

Chapter Eighteen

The British gunners had set up one of their two batteries of cannon by a small wood.



These gunners could see the Irish 3^rd regiment, on the left flank of General Kinnard’s army, marching bravely towards the heavy cannon. The British artillerymen loaded and fired their 24-pounder guns. Deafened by the roar of their cannon, and watching the advancing 3^rd regiment, the gunners were looking the wrong way when the Irish cavalry charged them from their flank. The cavalry quickly overwhelmed the gunners, silencing one battery of cannon.



On the Irish right flank, the 4^th regiment of foot maintained a steady advance towards the remaining British artillery. After a long march under cannon fire, at last the 4^th regiment were within musket range of the gunners.



There were no Irish cavalry on this side of the battlefield to attack these artillerymen. Even if there had been Irish horsemen here, they would not have stood a chance, as a line of British infantry regiments stood behind these guns – and one of them was Lord Berkeley’s Marine regiment. Fortunately for the Irish soldiers of the 4^th regiment, the British artillerymen were equipped with only round shot, not canister. Soon, the musket fire of the 4^th regiment sent the surviving gunners running.

In the centre, General Kinnard and his staff officers rode a few steps behind the thin lines of the advancing 1^st and 2^nd regiments of foot, sharing the danger. Ahead of these Irish regiments were the Earl of Pembroke’s regiment of Marines. Soon the 1^st and 2^nd regiments were raising their muskets to fire their first volley in a battle. The 3^rd regiment kept marching forwards and then turned right, forming an ‘L’ shape with the 1^st and 2^nd regiments. The Marines would now be fired upon by three Irish regiments. This was exactly the sort of arrangement which General Kinnard had hoped for.

British regiments formed line up on the left and right of the Earl of Pembroke’s Marine regiment. The Marine regiments had a third more men than a regular infantry unit. The Irish 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd regiments were outnumbered and most of the British regiments were better trained. The officer commanding the Irish provincial cavalry saw the danger. After defeating the gunners, his horsemen rode through the wood and up to a ridge of high ground behind the British line. The Irish horsemen looked for any sign of the English Jacobites and considered their next move. They saw a British regiment forming up next to the Marines, preparing to fire at the Irish 3^rd regiment. The Irish cavalrymen charged, striking the British infantry from behind. The cavalry followed orders, falling back after their first charge, not allowing themselves to become stuck in melee. They formed up and charged again.



After the second charge and a short melee, these British soldiers could take no more and they ran.

General Kinnard was pleased with the achievements of the Irishmen under his command in the early stages of the battle. Both batteries of British artillery had been silenced. His cavalry had sent one of the British infantry regiments running. The Earl of Pembroke’s Marine regiment, facing fire from three Irish regiments, was taking heavy losses. The Marines were holding the line bravely – but surely even these elite soldiers would not stand for much longer. If the English Jacobite regiments which had been promised arrived now, then surely the spirit of this British army would be broken. But there was no sign of English rebels arriving to reinforce the Irish army.

General Kinnard’s plan was a fine one. It was working. The Earl of Pembroke’s Marines broke and ran. But there were just too many British soldiers. General Wilby, the British commander, sent two of the three regiments on his left flank to reinforce the British troops attacking the 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd Irish regiments. These fresh troops filled the gap left by the Earl of Pembroke’s regiment and extended the British line. Now, the remaining men in the three Irish regiments were heavily outnumbered. The fresh British regiments were at full strength, while the Irish regiments had taken significant casualties. On the right flank, the Irish 4^th regiment had suffered many losses. They would not be able to hold on for much longer.

The Irish cavalry, seeing the chance to deprive the British of their leader, formed up and charged General Wilby and his staff officers. General Wilby and his men were outnumbered, but they were capable riders and skilled swordsmen – and the Irish cavalry were already tired. An Irish horseman swung his blade hard, knocking General Wilby’s sword from his hands.



The next strike came swiftly and deprived the British general of his life. If only the English rebels had come now... but there was still no sign of them. The British general’s bodyguards fought hard to avenge their fallen leader, sending both of the weary Irish regiments of horse into full retreat.

General Kinnard saw that his infantrymen were fighting bravely, but losing, against superior numbers along the whole of his line. His cavalry had fled the field. No English rebels had arrived and there was no sign of them – not that he could see far, as the battlefield was clouded with smoke. The Irish general decided that he could wait no longer. It was time to retreat, before his army was destroyed. At least this British army had no horsemen, apart from their surviving staff officers, which would make pursuit of the Irish army more difficult. After Kinnard’s staff officers had relayed his order, all four Irish regiments fired their final volley, turned and ran.



It was a defeat, General Kinnard admitted to his officers that evening, but an honourable one. “Today, an Irish army fought hard and bravely against a larger British army – a British army which had all the advantages of British wealth and military tradition. Our Irishmen put two British artillery batteries out of action. The British army would have used their cannon to attack our garrison at Edinburgh Castle. We inflicted heavy casualties on one of their elite Marine regiments. We deprived their army of its leader. We obtained vital information to send to Ireland’s first army in Edinburgh about this British army. Our men fought heroically against impossible odds. Tell your men that you are proud of them, I am proud of them and Ireland is proud of them.”

Once the officers had left, General Kinnard had a choice to make. In which direction should the survivors of his army go now? The British army was east of him and he could not risk another battle. He could take his men north, to try and reach the first army in Edinburgh. But that was surely what the British would expect him to do; the northern road was too dangerous. To march south would take his men further into England and unknown dangers – more British regiments would be marching north. If the eastern, northern and southern roads were all too risky, that left the western road. Marching west would take General Kinnard’s army into northern Wales.

The idea of marching west seemed better than the alternatives. In the past, hadn’t Welsh rebels hidden from English armies in the mountains of northern Wales? If the Welsh still longed for freedom from English rule, then perhaps their hills and valleys would be a safe refuge for Kinnard’s men. Kinnard smiled as he told his staff officers, “We will march west, for the mountains of Wales. When we pass the mountains, we can acquire a small boat and send men to Ireland, for reinforcements. Then we will be able to rejoin the war.” As Kinnard’s men marched west, the general was pleased to see that they held their heads high and that they sang songs from the Irish rebellion.

General Kinnard sent six riders, survivors of one of the light cavalry regiments, on a separate mission. While the Irish army marched west, these horsemen would ride north, with orders to report on the battle to Ireland’s first army in Edinburgh. Perhaps the first army could take advantage of the serious losses the British army had sustained at Manchester and inflict a devastating blow on Ireland’s enemies.

The six riders kept close formation as they rode through a small wood, approaching a bridge to the north of Manchester. They did not see the men hiding in the trees. The musket fire was very loud, coming from behind at close range. Three of the riders fell. The others, realising that they would have no chance against musketeers firing from concealment, spurred their horses to a gallop and rode on. Kelly, Dempsey and Defoe emerged from their hiding places and examined the bodies of the Irish horsemen. They could find no sign of a message. Perhaps these riders had been scouting for the Irish army as they marched north? The spies reasoned that the logical next move for the Irish army would be to retreat north, towards the first Irish army in Edinburgh. Kelly, Dempsey and Defoe were determined to find the survivors of General Kinnard’s army, so that the British army could finish them off. They rode north.

[PhilipO'Hayda]

Once that final shot was fired there this song "the wind that shakes the barley" just eased in and played.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Wind That Shakes the Barley" is an Irish ballad written by Robert Dwyer Joyce (1836–1883), a Limerick-born poet and professor of English literature. The song is written from the perspective of a doomed young Wexford rebel who is about to sacrifice his relationship with his loved one and plunge into the cauldron of violence associated with the1798 rebellion in Ireland. The references to barley in the song derive from the fact that the rebels often carried barley or oats in their pockets as provisions for when on the march. This gave rise to the post-rebellion phenomenon of barley growing and marking the "croppy-holes," mass unmarked graves into which slain rebels were thrown, symbolizing the regenerative nature of Irish resistance to British rule. As the barley will grow every year in the Spring time of the year this is said to symbolize Irish resistance to British oppression and that Ireland will never yield and will always oppose British rule on the island

[Merchant of Venice]

Oh how I now loathe completely those traitorous pigs Kelly and Dempsey, the blood of good Irishmen are their hands. Let us hope that the army finds refuge in Wales, this looks like a war that could go anyway but one false step for the Irish could see it go into disaster.

[Alwyn]

Thank you Philip O'Hayda (your choice of song is perfect for that moment in the story and the image of the barley as a symbol of Irish resistance is a powerful one) and Merchant of Venice (it's great to see such strong reactions to Kelly and Dempsey).

Chapter Nineteen

Mary Barber and Dearbhla Collins sailed from Belfast under a pale grey sky, in a small two-masted merchant schooner belonging to Dearbhla’s trading company.



Dearbhla explained that she had chosen the schooner Bóinn because she was fast and agile and her small size would help them to avoid attention from British warships. Bóinn was based on a Dutch design and would have no difficulty sailing through shallow waters off the coast of the Netherlands.

They started their sea journey in Belfast, in the north of Ireland, so that they could travel far away from British warships blockading Ireland’s southern ports. They sailed towards the northern tip of Scotland, threading their way through Scottish islands. They were enchanted to see a white-tailed sea eagle near the Isle of Mull – and a pair of puffins flying close to the ship as they passed near the smaller island of Staffa.

Having passed the northern shores of Scotland, they turned south for Rotterdam. The Bóinn was well-handled by her crew. Apart from the occasional fishing boat, there were no other vessels in sight until they approached Rotterdam. As there was little else for Mary to do, Dearbhla and some of the sailors taught her the rudiments of sailing.

The approach to a thriving port made quite an impression on Mary. There seemed to be a constant flow of trading ships entering and leaving the port. A line of Dutch merchant vessels was being escorted by a warship with two decks. One of the larger merchant vessels had three masts and a high stern-castle. “That’s a fluyt” said Dearbhla. “She looks fine,” remarked Mary. “Indeed she is,” replied Dearbhla. “She only needs a small crew and she carries a lot of cargo. If only I could get my hands on a ship like that, my trading company would be the richest in Ireland”.

After their schooner was safely moored, Mary and Dearbhla consulted a port official for directions. He pointed them to a fluyt at anchor a few minutes’ walk away, along the harbour. As walked along the quayside, they were startled by the sight of a British ship. This was a big two-deck warship.



“Don’t look at the British ship,” advised Dearbhla, “just keep walking.” The British sailors appeared to be focused on carrying stores onto a rowing-boat. As Dearbhla and Mary walked past, one of the sailors looked up at the women. “Keep your eyes on your work, lads,” said a British midshipman, who looked about thirteen years old.

As they walked along the quay, Mary and Dearbhla saw a group of young women who seemed to be in high spirits, chatting and laughing as they walked. Mary wished that she was as carefree as these women. Perhaps, if this mission succeeded, Ireland would be a bit closer to peace. If only the British blockade would end and Ireland’s trading ports could come back to life. So many people in Ireland were anxious about both their own prospects and whether Ireland would be occupied again by the British army. Who knew what revenge the British army would take on Ireland, if the Republic’s armies were defeated?

Further along the quay, they found the fluyt to which they had been directed. As they approached, Mary and Deabhla saw two Dutch soldiers bringing aboard a man whose wrists were chained. The prisoner wore a frayed and tattered long coat which might have been part of a uniform. After the soldiers removed his chains, the man spoke to an officer in a language Mary and Dearbhla guessed was Dutch. The former prisoner’s opening words sounded something like “goede morgen” which they presumed was a greeting. Turning to Mary and Dearbhla, the former prisoner spoke in English. “My name is Michael Curran. I have the honour of being a lieutenant in Ireland’s navy. I have learned to speak Dutch since my ship was captured, so I am here to translate for you as you negotiate for the release of the Dasher’s crew. As you will imagine, I am happy to see you. I thought that Ireland had abandoned us.”

They were taken to meet the fluyt’s captain. The captain introduced himself as a representative of the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie (VOC), the Dutch East India Company. Mary guessed that the Dutch government wanted to be able to tell the British that this deal had nothing to do with them. The captain greeted them warmly and it seemed that there would be no difficulty in securing the release of the prisoners. “Keeping your sailors is doing us no good,” observed the fluyt’s captain, “and I think that Ireland could put these men to good use, yes?” Mary noticed, and admired, the eagerness and confidence with which Dearbhla took part in the negotiations.

Mary, Dearbhla and Michael were allowed to visit the Dutch prison where the Irish prisoners were being held. After years of living in a Dutch prison, Captain Hogan and his crew could not express their relief at the prospect of liberty. Mary was saddened to see how few of the crew of the Dasher remained. “Some of us were lost to typhus during our first winter here,” explained Michael, “and others were willing to serve in the Dutch navy, for a chance to live free rather than remain behind prison walls.”

After visiting the prison, Dearbhla, Mary and Michael decided to visit one of Rotterdam's coffee-houses. They settled on one that had been recommended to them by the fluyt captain, taking the chance that their discussion might be overheard by a member of the fluyt's crew. As they walked through Grote Kerkplein (Great Church Square) on the way to the coffee-house, they paused to admire a handsome bronze statue of Desiderius Erasmus, who was holding a book. Next to them, a woman was speaking to three children in Dutch. The children giggled. Mary looked at Michael, who was smiling, for the translation. “She told them that Erasmus turns the page every hour.” Mary and Dearbhla smiled; just for a moment, the struggles of Ireland seemed a long distance away.

As they drank their coffee, Mary said that she noticed that the Dutch captain had not even sent any guards to ensure that Michael did not try to escape – he had been willing to trust Michael’s promise that he would return. She thought that this was an encouraging sign – it seemed that the Dutch captain trusted them. “There might not be any guards that we can see,” Michael observed, “but I’d bet that there are a couple of lads from the fluyt keeping an eye on us from a distance. They will want to know what our intentions are and whether we can be trusted.”

Mary commented that she had noticed Dearbhla asking the Dutch captain a lot of questions about what the Netherlands wanted. “Negotiation isn’t just about what you want and what they want,” observed Dearbhla. “You need to know why they want it. If you know what their needs and interests are, you can make a better deal.”

“What have you learned about their interests?” asked Mary.

“They’re very protective of their sea trade,” replied Dearbhla. “If we promise that Ireland will not interfere with Dutch trade for as long as Ireland and the Netherlands are at peace, then I think the Dutch will release our men.” Michael nodded his agreement.

A man in an elegant long coat, wearing a fashionable long wig, appeared at the table. He bowed and introduced himself. It appeared that he had been looking for Mary and Dearbhla and that the Dutch fluyt captain had told him that they were likely to be in this coffee-house. He spoke English with an accent – Mary initially assumed Dutch but then wondered if he was French. “Please forgive me for interrupting your conversation. I understand that you are in Rotterdam to do business on behalf of the Irish Republic.” Mary, Dearbhla and Michael said nothing as the elegantly-dressed man sat down. ”My superiors are interested in doing business with you. From inside his long coat, he pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to Mary and the others. “What is this?” asked Dearbhla. The paper seemed to show a design for some kind of device.

“This is a design for some sort of cannon” observed Michael, studying the design on the paper intently. “It’s not like the old demi-culverins we had on the Dasher. This design looks more modern. The gun-carriage looks like it is meant to be pulled by horses. This isn’t a naval gun, is it?” The three looked at each other.

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion aboard the Bóinn,” suggested Mary. “We could have rather more privacy there.”

Once they were settled in the captain's cabin, the elegant man said, “My superiors have received reports of your battles. You fight well against the British. But you lack artillery and, without it, you will always fight at a disadvantage, I think. My government offers Ireland a design for 12-pounder horse-drawn cannon. With this weapon, your army can be transformed.”

“This is a very tempting offer –” Michael began, but Dearbhla intervened.

“We need to know more. Who do you represent? What is your interest in offering this design to us?”

The elegant gentleman explained that he was in the employ of the French ambassador to the United Provinces. “France and Britain have often been enemies, as you know. It is in the interests of France for Ireland to succeed in your war with Britain.” France, it seemed, would benefit from the latest Irish farming techniques – and some gold. In exchange, France would enable Ireland to build modern 12-pounder cannon.

Dearbhla smiled. Despite having had no instructions from the Irish government on this matter, she entered into negotiation with great warmth, seeing an opportunity to bring even greater benefit to her country than she had hoped. Half an hour later, the deal was struck.

Afterwards, Michael said that he could not express how happy he felt. “At last, my men and I can return to Ireland – and now Ireland’s army will have a fighting chance against our enemies.”

[Historical Note:
1. The public domain image of the schooner comes from here; while that web page is about a 19^th century schooner, the Dutch used schooners from the 16^th and 17^th centuries, so it is possible that Ireland could have copied a Dutch schooner design in the 18^th century.

2. The artwork showing British and Dutch ships taking on stores in a port was painted by Dutch artist, Jacob Knijff, in 1673 and came from here.

3. Visitors to Rotterdam might well have admired the statue of Desiderius Erasmus, as some art historians have called it the finest statue in Europe: source. The Dutch sculptor Hendrick de Keyser was commissioned to make Rotterdam’s statue of Desiderius Erasmus. Sadly, Hendrick de Keyser died in 1621, before the statue was cast by Jan Cornelisz Ouderogge in 1622, but Hendrick’s son Pieter supervised the work after his father’s death (same source as above). According to tourist information on Rotterdam, adults do tell children that Erasmus turns the page of his book every hour: source]

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Huzzah for Kelly and Dempsey! Splendid fellows, brave heroes risking life and limb for Blighty!



Ahem...I mean, go Ireland?

[Alwyn]

are you, by any chance, a fan of Blackadder Goes Forth?

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

are you, by any chance, a fan of Blackadder Goes Forth?

Maybe

Sorry, I just felt like our duo of daring dandies needed a bit of defending, what with everyone else hating on them so much.

Fab writing as always. Looking forward to what's going to happen now the invasion has been blunted. Keep up the sterling work

[Steward Denethor II]

Huzzah for Kelly and Dempsey! Splendid fellows, brave heroes risking life and limb for Blighty!



Ahem...I mean, go Ireland?

Your head will be the first to roll when the flag of the Irish Republic flies over Westminster Palace!

[Merchant of Venice]

Loved the change of scenery, and all this politics really enriches the story. All the secret deals going on are making the plot ever more intriguing, with the affair in Rotterdam over and done with, now it is time to kill Kelly and Dempsey and maybe Hitai as well!!!

[Alwyn]

Thank you, Hitai de Bodemloze, Steward Denethor II and Merchant of Venice! I would like to reassure readers, who may be concerned, that no Bodemlozes were harmed during the making of the next chapter .

Chapter Twenty

“Lieutenant Connolly! Sir, riders are approaching the gate!”

I had watched General Kinnard’s army march out of Edinburgh Castle. Hundreds of men had left, weeks before. Now just three horsemen were returning to the castle. The riders had pushed themselves to the point where they were shattered, completely exhausted. While I was calling for food, drink and blankets, they were begging to be taken to report to a senior officer. I insisted that they stay where they were, warming up by the fire in the castle gate-house. Despite the warmth of the fire, one of the riders kept shivering and coughing. Instead of making them walk another step, I brought Colonel MacDónaill to see them.

We had heard no news of General Kinnard’s army and I was anxious to hear what these riders had to say. When Colonel MacDónaill arrived, the riders reported that General Kinnard’s army had fought a strong British force near Manchester. Kinnard’s men had inflicted heavy losses on the British army but had lost many men as well. Apparently Kinnard had hoped to receive help from English Jacobite rebels, but the promised rebel regiments had never arrived. Kinnard’s men had marched west into the Welsh mountains to escape the British. When reinforcements arrived from Ireland, Kinnard’s army would return to England.

Colonel MacDónaill was eager for more information about this British army: how many regiments did they have, what condition were they in after the battle and which way were they marching? We learned that they had lost most of their artillerymen and their general. They had no cavalry even before the battle. They had six regiments of foot, including both of the British Marine regiments. As the Irish horsemen had ridden north, they had caught glimpses of this British army marching in the same direction.

That night, Colonel MacDónaill took me along to a meeting of the senior officers. As we arrived, I saw friends arriving – Charles Mackinnon, now the colonel of one of the new Scottish regiments, with Callum Mackinnon, who was now a junior officer in Colonel Mackinnon’s regiment. As usual, our general simply listened for a while, while his senior officers debated the options.

The more cautious officers wanted to keep the army in Edinburgh. They liked staying behind high walls. An experienced colonel commanding one of the volunteer regiments argued that the British soldiers were always more numerous and better-trained. Defending Edinburgh Castle would compensate for the larger numbers and training of our enemies. Staying in Edinburgh would keep us close to our sources of supplies and reinforcements, while any British army marching here would be far from theirs. The colonel’s strongest argument was the last one: Ireland depended on the trade and the supplies passing through Glasgow’s port. That, said the colonel, was our most vulnerable point. Remaining in Edinburgh would allow us to protect that weak spot against enemy attack.

Colonel MacDónaill wanted to take the army south to destroy this British army before they could be reinforced. MacDónaill started by agreeing with the cautious officers that we needed to know where we were vulnerable. “Wars are won,” MacDónaill explained, “when armies exploit the vulnerabilities of their enemies. Yes, we should protect our vulnerable port in Glasgow. Not only that, we should exploit the weak points of our enemy’s situation. Their army near York is vulnerable because General Kinnard’s army sacrificed many lives to weaken them. We can complete the work which General Kinnard began and destroy that British army before they receive reinforcements.”

As MacDónaill spoke, I saw Colonel Mackinnon nodding his agreement. MacDónaill observed that, as everyone knew, Britain had more money and a bigger population. As things stood, they could always raise more men, more quickly than Ireland. MacDónaill surprised many of the officers by proposing that it was time to do something to change that situation. Most of the Irish officers saw Britain’s greater wealth and population as natural and unavoidable advantages. But, for MacDónaill, these advantages were just obstacles to be overcome.

If our army marched into northern England, not only could we destroy a British army, we could also disrupt Britain’s ability to raise funds and recruit regiments. York, an important hub for merchant traders in northern England, was about 180 miles south of Edinburgh, to the north and east of Manchester. By defeating this British army and taking York, MacDónaill explained, we would deprive Britain of their elite Marine regiments – and, in addition, the British government would lose a noticeable portion of their income. If our Republic could unite Ireland and Scotland against a British government which could rely only on part of England’s great wealth, then we would be in a stronger position than we had ever been.

MacDónaill sensed he was gaining an advantage in the debate, and was quick to press it home. If our army was in York, not Edinburgh, we would be in a better position to combine our efforts with General Kinnard’s army. General Kinnard could march from northern Wales through western England while we would march from York through eastern England. Any British army which approached either of Ireland’s forces would be struck in the flanks or rear by the other Irish army. “From here to York is a little less than 200 miles” said MacDónaill. “When we are in York, we will be a similar distance from London. If we take York, then we can win this war.” Looking around the room, I could see that the other officers warmly approved this plan – including our general.

Our march to York was easier than the march to Edinburgh. Now we were marching in early summer, not winter. Unexpectedly, after two days of marching, Colonel MacDónaill assigned me to command one of the companies of Irish guerrillas who acted as scouts and skirmishers for our army. Their commander had fallen ill and was being taken back to Edinburgh. He made me an acting captain; it felt strange to be promoted simply because another man had fallen sick.

We found the British army north of York. The British regiments had positioned themselves on the edge of some low hills, behind a forest.



My company of guerrillas scouted ahead, walking quietly through the forest to get a good look at the deployment of the British regiments. Our brown coats helped us to hide among the trees, while the red coats of the British soldiers made them easy to see.

Before, when this British army fought General Kinnard’s army at Manchester, they had two batteries of cannon. The horsemen who reported to us in Edinburgh had told us of their successful charge which had killed many of the British artillerymen. Now, at York, we could see the effects of the previous battle. Instead of two batteries, this British army had just two cannon. Each gun was in a defensive emplacement. We could see the sharp wooden spikes of chevaux de frise running between the gun emplacements. These spikes would be deadly to any cavalry. Apparently the British remembered how the Irish horsemen had attacked their artillerymen at Manchester and they were determined to protect their few surviving gunners. Behind the cannon and the chevaux de frise stood the line of British regiments of foot. Most of their regiments looked as if about half of their men were missing. Only one of their Marine regiments appeared to have their full complement of men.

“The first step to winning this battle,” Colonel MacDónaill told me, “is for your guerrilla company to make your way through the woods to the flank of the cannon on our left. Get your men moving, Captain Connolly.”

Soon my men were within musket range of the British gun emplacement. There were just three artillerymen, including an officer, in the emplacement.



The officer looked about my age. The three artillerymen were focused on loading and firing their cannon into the forest in front of them. They must have caught occasional glimpses of Mackinnon’s regiment as they advanced through the forest. I hoped that my friends were all right. Hopefully the trees would offer some protection.

I nodded to a sergeant, who gave the order to fire. I almost choked in the musket-smoke.



As the wind blew away the smoke, I saw the bodies of two of the artillerymen. The third man, the officer, had abandoned his gun and was running towards the line of British infantry as fast as he could. I could not help feeling sorry for the officer as he ran alone.



Before long, the main line of Irish regiments had advanced to fire on the other cannon emplacement. Soon the survivors of that emplacement were running too. While our cavalry circled behind the enemy, our infantry regiments formed a half-circle around the British line. When Mackinnon’s regiment emerged from the forest, my guerrillas formed up with them and we hit the enemy’s flank with devastating effect. The British line began to break.



I admit that I admired the courage of the British Marines, who stood their ground and kept firing long after any sensible fighting man would have run. But in the end, the battle at York was a disaster for the British: this army was surrounded and destroyed. As our men marched into York, we sang our rebel songs and held our heads high.

[McScottish]

Well, what can you say really...erin go bragh.

[Merchant of Venice]

What no Bodemlozes were harmed in the making of the chapter? Outrage I say! Kill those traitorous pigs!

Great chapter, hopefully this is the decisive battle in the war but I have a gut feeling that there will be one really big one before this war is over.

[PhilipO'Hayda]

As our men marched into York, we sang our rebel songs and held our heads high.

you bet I'd have the song for it.

"Killaloe" not really a rebel song, but both Irish and very up beat after a battle.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Killaloe is the Regimental Quick March of the British Army regiment, The Royal Irish Regiment (27th (Inniskilling) 83rd and 87th and Ulster Defence Regiment). It has informal, historical associations with other Irish Regiments and Brigades: as an unofficial march by theConnaught Rangers and Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers and at brigade level in World War II by the 38th (Irish) Infantry Brigade. It is also the regimental march of the South African Irish Regiment.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Before I'm to be hanged for my crimes, I'd just like to say good update Looking forward to the next one, should I live that long.

[Alwyn]

Thank you, McScottish, Merchant of Venice, Philip O'Hayda (great song) and Hitai de Bodemloze!

Chapter Twenty-one

Mary Barber and Dearbhla Collins looked ahead eagerly as the schooner Bóinn approached Glasgow’s port. They could see quite a few ships. From a distance, there seemed to be a convoy with a mixture of large and small ships leaving the harbour. As the schooner turned and the port came into view, their expressions turned from eagerness to worry. On the horizon, dark smoke was rising from some large buildings near the quayside. The ship’s captain passed his telescope to Dearbhla, who looked at the scene before passing it to Mary.

Mary now had a much better view of the convoy of ships. She could now see that there were several warships, two-deckers, leaving the port. Looking at the ships through the telescope, Mary realised with horror what she was looking at. The bigger vessels were flying a flag which incorporated the British flag in the top left hand corner. These were British warships. “The smaller ships sailing with the British frigates are likely to have been Irish merchant ships,” said Dearbhla. “It looks like those warships burned the warehouses in the port and took our merchant vessels as prizes.”

“Didn’t you say that Ireland’s trade passes through Glasgow’s port because of the British blockade of the ports in Ireland?” asked Michael Curran. Dearbhla nodded, a worried look on her face. “Not only that. The supplies for our armies go through this port as well.”

“Is that frigate turning towards us?” asked Mary.



“Yes, they’ve seen us,” replied the captain of the Bóinn. “It appears that they are eager to add to their collection of prizes.” The captain closed the telescope Mary had returned to him, then briskly shouted orders to the crew to turn the schooner about.

“Will they catch us?” asked Mary.

“They are fast and they have plenty of cannon while we have none” replied the captain. “But we have some advantages. This schooner is quite agile – you saw how quickly we could turn the ship just now. They are fast but so are we – especially without cannon or cargo. With the Irish sailors we picked up in Rotterdam, we have plenty of capable folk to handle the ship. The British warships won’t have their full crews because some of their sailors will be manning ships they have taken as prizes. Our biggest advantage is that we can sail safely in shallower waters than a two-decker warship like the one behind us. So we will stick close to land, as close as we dare, and hope to lure them in. The closer they are to land, the bigger the chance that their frigate will run aground. If that happens, they have no chance of catching us.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a distant boom of a cannon firing and the splash of the cannon-ball dropping into the water some distance behind the Bóinn. “You see that? That, now, is their biggest advantage,” observed the schooner’s captain with a grin. “Luckily for us, it appears that we’re beyond the range of their bow-chasers. We just have to stay that way. A couple of hits from their cannon could give us real trouble.”

The journey from Rotterdam had taught the crew of the Bóinn to work efficiently with the sailors they had picked up in the Dutch port. The combined crew found the schooner easy to handle. The Bóinn sailed swiftly north, keeping close to the Scottish coast, hoping that the British frigate would not follow – or else that she would fall foul of the dangers in sailing near to shore. Mary looked back anxiously; the sails of the frigate remained stubbornly in view. She could not see the hull of the ship and the schooner was far out of range of the cannon in the frigate’s bow. As evening turned to night, the frigate’s sails seemed to be getting ominously closer. Mary felt very relieved when night fell and the schooner was hidden in darkness.

The sky was full of dark grey clouds, allowing little moonlight to reach the sea. The schooner sailed on as quickly as her crew could make her go, heedless of the risks. The crew turned the ship away from the shore, hoping to lose the frigate in the night. Mary and Dearbhla helped the tired crewmen to keep the ship going through the night. As the sun rose the following morning, the wind blew strongly, scattering the clouds. There was no sign of the British frigate.

Seeing no sails on the horizon, Mary and Deabhla felt immense relief. But, as they talked to Michael Curran, they were also curious. Why had there been no Irish soldiers or militia to protect the port? Soldiers could not have protected the Irish merchant ships from being taken as prizes but they could have stopped the British sailors from setting fire to the warehouses in Glasgow’s port. Mary and Dearbhla remembered that Irish soldiers had guarded the port of Glasgow when they left. Where had they gone? Had there been some terrible defeat, after which the soldiers guarding the port had been sent to replace the losses in battle? Mary, Dearbhla and Michael wished they knew. Could they dare turn the schooner around and sail back to Glasgow’s port in search of answers – or would they run straight into a British frigate and be captured? They carried vital information provided by the elegant French man in Rotterdam – plans for building 12-pounder horse-drawn cannon. They reluctantly agreed that getting to a safe port with this information took priority over solving the mystery of why Glasgow’s port had been unguarded. They sailed for Ireland, to take their vital information to Dublin so that it could be used.

[Edited to add thanks to people who commented on the previous chapter and a better picture]

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Interesting, I thought all was well in Scotland? Good to see Mary and Cut-me-own-throat Dearbhla back in action though. (Sorry, that's the only thing I can think about when I see her name )

[Scottish King]

Nice chapter. I really like the way this AAR is coming along. Hope things in Scotland get better.

[Merchant of Venice]

I hope nothing serious has happened in Scotland and for Ireland's sake, I hope Mary and Dearbhla get back home safely.

[Alwyn]

Thank you, Hitai (I'm a fan of Terry Pratchett and his characters, including C.M.O.T. Dibbler, too), Scottish King and Merchant!

Chapter Twenty-two

I woke, bathed in sweat and with a pounding headache.

“Where am I? Why does my head feel... uh... bad?”

“We’re still in York, Captain Connolly, sir,” replied a sergeant from my company of Irish guerrillas. Drink this, if you please, sir,” the sergeant passed me a cup.

He helped me to sit up as I drank. I blinked and shivered. The sunlight streaming through the window hurt my eyes. “Thank you, Sergeant. Why is the army still in York? I thought we were going to march south?”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re not in a condition to march anywhere. A lot of the men have the same illness you have. It’s some sort of camp fever. Many of them are worse off than you, and there've been some deaths. That’s one reason why we’re still here. And there's the three riders who arrived yesterday –“

“Three riders?”

“Yes, sir. From General Kinnard's cavalry. Their scouts found a big British army marching north towards York.”

“Big? How big?”

“Twelve regiments of foot, with plenty of cavalry and cannon.”

“That’s more than we can handle. Why hasn’t our general ordered our army to fall back to Edinburgh? No, wait, you said that a lot of our men are sick.” I paused, trying to think, rubbing my aching head. “Our general didn’t want to leave half of our men behind in York to be captured by the British, did he?”

“No, indeed he didn't, sir. General McCarthy sent word to Edinburgh and Glasgow that every soldier they could spare was to join us in York. He believed that was our only chance of beating this British army which is marching to fight us.”

“Are General Kinnard’s men on their way, too?”

“Apparently they are, sir. But the riders didn’t know if they could reach us before the British army could get here.”

I slumped back into my bed, exhausted – and demoralised at the thought that I was in the middle of a sick, weakened army that was already outnumbered by the enemy approaching it.

Fortunately, my fever broke, and I slowly regained my previous good health. But the days passed and still we saw no huge British army – indeed, no attack at all.

Because the three riders had worn the right uniform, and because General Kinnard had previously sent three riders to us when we were in Edinburgh, everyone had assumed these new riders were also genuine, even though apparently one of them had sounded English rather than Irish. When he said that he was an English Jacobite who had volunteered to join General Kinnard’s cavalry, everyone accepted that explanation. We were expecting that the British would send a powerful army to drive us out of England, I suppose.

When the news reached us in York that the British navy had raided the port of Glasgow, burned our supplies and taken many of our merchant ships as prizes, we were horrified. The soldiers who should have been guarding the port had marched to York to reinforce us, as we had been expecting the British army to reach York at any moment. But this British army had still not reached us. The three riders who had warned us against this army had long since left, saying they had been ordered to return to General Kinnard with news of our army.

Colonel MacDónaill asked me to join him for a meeting of senior officers, as he had done before. The colonels were talking about improving the earthworks the men had been building around the city, to help us to defend against the British army. Perhaps I was still not entirely recovered from my illness, for I found it harder than usual to concentrate on the details of the conversation around me. My mind wandered to the three riders who had brought us news in Edinburgh – maybe because one of those men had been sick, too. I remembered him desperately gasping out his news, despite the fact he could barely stand. He was a brave and loyal man. He had told us that General Kinnard’s army had been expecting Jacobite rebels to reinforce them. But those Jacobites had not arrived. Now the main Irish army was building defences in York instead of marching south towards London, because we were expecting enemies to arrive. But, so far, these expected enemies had not arrived either.

“It is as if someone is conjuring up imaginary armies,” I said, surprised by my sudden thought. In that moment, I hadn’t intended to speak out loud but I did. Everyone turned to look at me. Somewhat embarrassed, I explained what I meant.

The senior officers were divided. Some were determined to keep building defences in York. The more adventurous officers, such as Colonel MacDónaill and Colonel Mackinnon, wanted to send men south to see whether British soldiers were really marching towards us. As my company had the necessary skills, I volunteered to go. Our general decided to adopt both options: the main army would remain in York and improve the defensive earthworks, while two companies of guerrillas would explore the lands to the south of York.

In our journey south, we discovered that we had been deceived. We found no opposition, no British soldiers anywhere. We didn’t need to interrogate anyone to discover the truth. It was the talk of every tavern and in every market-place and coffee-house in southern England. You see, traditionally the British aristocracy often raised regiments for the British army. Consider their famous Marine regiments: one was raised by the Earl of Pembroke and the other by Lord Berkeley. But something had happened after the destruction of the British army in York. The loss of both their elite Marine regiments had been a terrible shock for Britain’s aristocrats. They stopped believing that they would win the war.

Instead of raising regiments to join a common fight against the Irish, the British lords and ladies thought about the preservation of their lives, families and property. They acquired ships. If they recruited men, they used them as private body-guards, not soldiers. They were afraid of what would happen if the Irish took the south of England. Perhaps they knew how badly the Irish had been treated and they were worried that the Irish soldiers would take revenge. The British aristocrats wanted a way to take their families, their servants and their wealth elsewhere.

Now that Irish armies occupied northern England and Wales, the leaders of Britain were in a terrible panic. The British leaders expected Irish soldiers to take southern England at any time. Their naval and civilian dockyards worked non-stop, to provide Britain’s wealthy and powerful families with a way to escape by sea. That’s why the British had a powerful force of frigates to attack Glasgow; they were newly built. That is why the British were so keen to take merchant ships as prizes – not for the money they could raise by selling them, but because of the money they could raise by selling places on those ships, when they sailed. A few sailed to other European nations, but many went to Britain’s colonies in North America, where the British flag would still fly, even if it no longer flew over London. Some ship-owners got rich, when they found how many wealthy people were desperate to flee.

When our main army marched south from York, our first 12-pounder cannon had just arrived. We had lost many men to the camp fever, but reinforcements had arrived from Ireland and Scotland. We even had a few volunteers from northern England. As we marched south to London, we sent horsemen to maintain contact with General Kinnard’s army, who were marching to join us. Many of us were surprised that the British army made no attempt to stop us as we marched towards London. We heard all sorts of rumours, that Queen Anne was ill and that the Queen’s ministers had been seen boarding British warships which were bound for New England. Some people claimed that the British government had sent requests to the Netherlands and Hannover, begging them to send soldiers to fight the Irish army.

Eventually, we reached London. Men turned out in their hundreds to defend their homes. They did their best, but they lacked training, experience and leadership. I couldn’t help feeling for them. A few years ago, it had been Irishmen who volunteered to fight to defend their land and their families from a foreign army. Our main army marched with the confidence which comes from having survived hard fighting. Many of us had fought for Ireland’s freedom in Dublin, Lisburn, Edinburgh and York. So many friends had had been left behind on the battle-field. And yet, enough of us had survived to fight here. Our confidence gave strength to the less experienced men.

This wasn’t a proper battle. We advanced, with our cannon in the centre.



General Kinnard’s regiments formed up on our right flank.



Before long, General Kinnard’s men were sweeping away the British units on their side of the battle-field. My guerrilla company marched on the left flank, next to Colonel Mackinnon’s Scottish regiment. The untrained men of London were afraid – as any sensible civilians would be, facing experienced soldiers. Some of them tried to attack our cannon, but they were soon broken.




Most of the time, London’s defenders fired one or two shots – as if they just wanted to have said that they had tried to defend the city. Then they ran. A few braver ones charged Mackinnon’s regiment, but those brave civilians did not last long against soldiers. A few redcoats – the only British soldiers I saw that day – tried to back up the brave civilians. My company of Irish guerrillas fired at the British soldiers. Through the smoke, I saw the redcoats turn and run.




***

So, there we were, at last, free from English rule, no longer needing to fight for our existence as a free nation. I like to think my grandfather would have been proud.

What? What do you mean, that can't have been the end?

Oh. Oh, I see. Well, you're right, of course. In order to survive without yet more fighting, the new United Republic of Hibernia and Albion had to unite Irish, Scottish, Welsh and English folk into one country. And we were still technically at war with the British colonies in North America, although neither side seemed keen to pursue a war across the Atlantic – at least not then. History doesn't stop happening just because you win a war. But it was the end of the War of Liberation ... and that seems to be the end of my beer. If you want more stories, they'll have to wait till another time. I could tell you how I met your grandmother, if you like ...


[If you're curious about Hibernia and Albion, here are links which explain the references: Hibernia and Albion]

[Alwyn]

Today's chapter, above, is either the end of Éirí Amach: Irish Rising or the end of part one. I have not decided yet. Either way, I plan to take a break from writing and then return with another AAR. I already have two ideas for AARs which I am feeling excited about (to write either AAR would require some historical research and a bit of modding, which will take time.) Thank you for reading and thank you to everyone who has commented on this story, for your warm and generous encouragement and your helpful feedback.