The Siege of Derry 1689

by Richard Doherty

  2 The feature may be seen from Greencastle on the Inishowen side of the lough or from the viewing point on the Bishop’s Road on the County Londonderry side. The sand of the Tuns is so hard that a game of soccer has even been played on the feature. Folklore has it that the Tuns are the home of the Celtic sea god Mannanan MacLir, who also gave his name to the Isle of Man, since he was banished there by Saint Patrick. In January 1884 the McCorkell Line’s ship Nokomis met its doom on the Tuns.

  3 In March Pelican was to have sailed to Londonderry with James Hamilton under escort by HMS Jersey but the arrangement broke down and Deliverance made the journey instead.

  4 Macrory suggests that this name may be the modrn McFetridge.50 It may also be the modern McFeeters.

  5 Macrory describes him as ‘undoubtedly a spiritual ancestor of the Great McGonagall’.

  6 According to the author of A Light to the Blind, both Maumont and Pusignan were killed in the first battle. Mackenzie also snakes the same claim as does Ash, who refers to the latter as ‘the French engineer, Lieut. General Basinian’58.

  7 De Pointis had come to Ireland in January to report on the situation there for Louis XIV before the king made the final decision to support James in an Irish campaign.

  8 Ash gives the date as 2 May.

  9 According to the French artillery expert, Lieutenant-General Surirey de Saint-Rémy, at a range of 150 yards, slightly under the optimum 200 yards for a breaching gun, a 24-pounder firing from a well-made (stone-and-earth) position could penetrate up to 35 feet of packed earth.76

  10 This was John Stevens, a king’s messenger.

  11 Amalgamations in the second half of the twentieth century mean that this, the senior English infantry regiment of the Army, is now part of the Princess of Wales’s Royal Regiment.

  12 See Appendix Seven for a description of the overland move of an artillery train and for a description of a siege gun.

  13 These were not the long pikes carried by pikemen but a short pole on which was a pear-shaped metal head, the badge of office of a commanding officer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Give Signal to The Fight

  There was considerable frustration in the Jacobite army following the defeat at Windmill Hill. It seemed that this army could not execute any plan successfully. Its major achievement to date, the taking of Culmore Fort, had been achieved by psychological means, tactics that offered no opportunity of breaching the walls of the stubborn city that lay before it. Losses were mounting with the worst being those of such officers as Maumont, Pusignan and Ramsey. Living conditions for the majority of soldiers could not have been good, with wet weather adding to the toll of disease in the ranks; there is a comment in Ash’s journal for 17 May that there were ‘great rains in the afternoon’.1 That intercepted report of up to 3,000 casualties must have included many men who had succumbed to illness. Dysentery would have been the main problem, but typhus and other ailments would also have been found by the doctors. Such were the results of living in unhygienic conditions for an extended period.

  Frustration often leads to anger and this was probably the reason for a heightened tempo from the Jacobite mortar batteries in Stronge’s orchard that night. This increased rate of fire continued over the following days. During the night of 4–5 June three dozen mortar bombs were fired into the town, each, it was said, containing seventeen pounds of powder. (These are described as shells since the bombs were hollow to contain the explosive charge of blackpowder. On exploding, the casings of the shells shattered and pieces of the casings acted as a form of shrapnel.) The death toll from this bombardment included twenty-eight soldiers, four of whom were officers. Among the buildings struck was the home of Councillor Cairnes (Kems in Simpson’s Annals of Derry), in which two people died and several others were wounded. The town house was also hit by a shell that fell through the roof and landed within ‘a few yards of a vault, in which were deposited several barrels of gunpowder’.2 This was a fortunate near miss for the defenders; a sympathetic explosion of the barrels of powder would probably have destroyed the town house.

  The mortarmen kept up their bombardment the following night, when twenty-six bombs were fired into the city. These were larger shells, said to be ‘of enormous size’, but some failed to burst since their fuses had burned out in flight.3 Those burning fuses made it possible to observe the flight path of each bomb, especially during the hours of darkness, and so take avoiding action. (In daylight it was possible to watch a mortar or cannon round throughout its flight; its initial speed was no more than 200mph which diminished as the flight progressed.) This seems to have been the practice adopted by many citizens who abandoned living indoors and took to lying in the streets.4 In this is an augury of civilian life under air attack in the twentieth century. Nonetheless, the bombs continued to kill, with Major Breme and Surgeon Lindsay among the dead. Lindsay’s loss was felt especially as he had been ‘most useful to the sick and wounded’; he had been the surgeon to Walker’s Regiment. Also killed was Henry Thompson, one of the city burgesses, as well as fourteen men, all of whom perished by the same shell which, in addition, caused two barrels of gunpowder to explode. Yet another round took seven lives, and a fourth bomb killed three people. Nor was there any let up over the next two nights when ‘constant cannonading was kept up against the town, which committed great havoc’.5 About this time the Jacobite artillery seems to have added an additional mortar to their inventory. This was much larger than the other mortars and, according to Walker, fired a bomb of some ‘273 pound weight’ with which the Jacobites ploughed up streets and knocked down houses in the city.6 This further encouraged the inhabitants to abandon their homes for the relative safety of the walls and the more remote parts of the town, presumably out of range of the mortars in Stronge’s orchard. (In mid-June these were redeployed to the west bank of the river and were then able to threaten a larger part of the city.) Sadly some of the sick could not be moved and perished when their houses were destroyed. With mortars firing at night and cannon during the day, there was little opportunity for rest for anyone inside the walls

  The movement of the inhabitants from the shelter of buildings to lie in the streets and ‘about the walls’ did no good for the general health of the population who ‘contracted colds’ that, ‘together with the want of nutritious food and rest, brought on the worst kinds of fever, with dysentery, of which many died’.7 Conditions in the city would have been rife for an epidemic of dysentery of which there are two forms. One, known as bacillary dysentery, is caused by infection from a bacterium of the Shigella family and is also known as Shigellosis while the other is amoebic dysentery. Either could have afflicted the people of Derry. The former is spread by flies in areas of poor sanitation or by infected individuals failing to wash their hands after defecating and before handling food. Either strain causes diarrhoea which can lead to dehydration. In turn, this can be fatal in individuals with low resistance and must have accounted for many deaths in the city. With a shortage of potable water the problem of dehydration would have been exacerbated, while having to move so often and not being able to have proper rest caused many to tire ‘into faintness and diseases’. Typhus would also have presented a great danger: caused by rickettsiae, a micro organism similar to bacteria, the most common type was epidemic typhus which was spread between humans by body lice; it was prevalent at times of famine, in war situations and in the wake of natural disasters. Conditions in the city would have been ideal for typhus. For the civilians within the walls the mortaring was making the siege very personal, and their fears of the treatment they would receive in the event of a Jacobite victory must have been heightened.

  But now the Jacobite army’s attention was diverted to the north of the city and Lough Foyle. What appeared to be the advance guard of a relief fleet had sailed into the lough to anchor off Redcastle on 1 June. Among the ships in the flotilla was the frigate HMS Greyhound commanded by Captain Thomas Gwillam, and on board Greyhound was Major-General Percy Kirke’s chief
engineer, Captain Jacob Richards. The latter kept notes of his experiences on this expedition and later produced an account from those notes. (Although a naval captain outranks an army captain, the naval rank equating to lieutenant-colonel in the army, Richards’ overall role was that of expedition commander and, as such, Captain Gwillam generally deferred to him.) Richards includes a transcript of the orders he received from Kirke at Liverpool on 10 May.

  It being thought fit and found requisite for their Majesties’ Service, that you and the four French officers, with the gunners and the miners, should immediately embark and repair to Londonderry in Ireland provided it be still in the Protestants’ hands; to accomplish which you are to follow these instructions:

  1. To go no farther than within cannon shot of Culmore Fort, where you are to stay till you have such intelligence as may advise you in what condition Londonderry is in; whether any batteries be raised to hinder the passing of ships, or whether any other means are made use of, as the choking the channel or chaining it over. Of all which you are to be well satisfied before you pass the said Fort of Culmore.

  2. If you find that there is no passing without evident danger of losing yourselves or ship, you are not to attempt it, but lie bye somewhere in safety either in Lough Foyle or on the coast, so that you may from time to time be able to observe and learn what the enemies do; and then cause the ketch sent with you to return to me with an account of your proceedings, for which this shall be your sufficient warrant.

  Richards had left Liverpool on 12 May aboard the merchant ketch Edward and James which carried a detachment of forty soldiers commanded by an ensign. He later transferred to HMS Greyhound which was also accompanied by the Kingfisher, the ketch referred to in Kirke’s orders; the frigate had sailed on the 13th. With Richards were four French officers, Messieurs Dompiere, de la Barte,1 Mainvilliers and Sundini, who had travelled from London with him. These were probably Huguenot officers who had fled religious persecution in their homeland. The ships spent over two weeks making for the entrance to Lough Foyle. Off the north coast of Ireland, on 29 May, they met a squadron under Captain George Rooke in HMS Deptford; the other ships of this squadron were Antelope, Portland, Dartmouth and Henrietta. Rooke, soon to be Admiral Sir George and destined to be one of the Royal Navy’s outstanding commanders, had been patrolling Irish waters but had put into Greenock in Scotland to have repairs carried out to Deptford which had sustained damage in the Battle of Bantry Bay on 1 May. In Greenock he had learned about the relief fleet and had sent Dartmouth to meet the ships and order them to join him off Cape Kintyre. When the relief ships rendezvoused with him, Rooke promised to ‘attempt whatever be advisable with safety to their Majesties’ ships for the relief of Londonderry which [was] agreed on by all to be in great distress’. He told them that Captain Leigh in HMS Portland was off Lough Foyle and ‘would assist us in going up’. And so, as we have noted, Greyhound, Kingfisher and the Edward and James sailed into the lough on 1 June.

  Although the ships were able to sail from Greencastle up the lough to Redcastle, weather conditions then kept them at anchor until the following Friday, the 7th, when Richards decided that he had to make for Derry. Without a wind to fill the sails, the crews were forced to resort to manpower and the ships were kedged and warped as the tide flowed in from the Atlantic. This was a slow process that produced much sweat from the sailors as each ship either ran out and secured a hawser to a fixed point after which the seamen hauled on the lines to draw their ships forward or dropped a kedge anchor which was used in a similar fashion. By the time the tide turned the fleet was within three miles of Culmore Point. Richards then ordered the vessels to drop anchor.

  By now the ships had been spotted by lookouts in the cathedral tower. Contact had to be made with the vessels, but, since the Jacobites held Culmore Fort, this could be done only by boat. But the city now had no boats. One would have to be built. The task fell on several soldiers under the direction of Lieutenant Crookshanks,2 one of the apprentice boys who had shut the city gates and an officer of one of the companies raised by David Cairnes, but it was soon clear that neither the building party, nor Crookshanks for that matter, knew much about boats. Although they managed to knock together a large rowing boat with sixteen oars, eight to either side, they had placed the oars too close together. This did not become obvious to them until the boat had been launched and its crew attempted to set off downriver when it was found that the rowers were obstructing each other. The crew struggled to return to their starting point. This was unfortunate as the Jacobite artillerymen in Stronge’s orchard had spotted the boat as soon as it entered the water and opened fire on it. No rounds had struck it but the crew must have wondered if they might be so lucky a second time. Adjustments were made and the voyage recommenced. Once again the guns across the river opened fire, but fortune continued to favour the Derrymen as every round missed. However, the adjustments to the oars had not been as effective as they might have been; they were still too close together and the crewmen were hard pressed to make any progress.10

  On board Greyhound Richards was anxious to receive any information at all about the situation in the city. Some news was coming to him but only in dribs and drabs, and he had no proof of its accuracy. Three Protestant gentlemen, who had not taken refuge in the city but remained at their homes close to the lough shore where they enjoyed protections from Hamilton, were among a group that came aboard the ship. This trio, Gage, Hamilton and Newton, appeared to have some information about the boom. Such intelligence was critical to Richards, but the three men could not agree on the exact nature of the boom and nor could the remainder of the party. Richards still had no idea of the scale and structure of de Pointis’ work. ‘Some said it was a chain only, others several cables floated up with timbers, and others said it was a chain, cables and timbers, linked together.’

  Further intelligence came from two other local residents, also presumably living under guarantees of safety from Richard Hamilton. The first of these was an elderly man, described as a Scot, who signalled from the shore and was brought aboard Richards’ ship. Then a woman also signalled from the shore. This latter incident was just before nightfall, which is quite late at that time of year in these latitudes, and a boat was sent to collect the woman and bring her out to the ship. The lady and the crew of the ship’s boat came close to being captured when a party of Jacobite dragoons arrived on the scene; the boat was fired on as it made for the Swallow. Neither the old Scot nor the woman had information of any military value. Richards noted that they both told him that ‘our friends in Derry had sallied out and killed several officers and two or three hundred Irish’. Since Richards had earlier heard cannonfire from the direction of the city, he assumed that this was also part of the engagement that the two informants were telling him about. He does not seem to have queried how they could have had such up-to-date information about events in and around the city. What they were telling him about was the battle at Windmill Hill three days earlier, whereas the ‘great firings’ that he had heard were probably the gunners in Stronge’s orchard trying to hit Crookshanks’ makeshift boat.

  The pair also claimed that the Jacobites had abandoned Culmore, but Richards did not believe this as he had seen Jacobite soldiers knocking down a house near the fort. This had been only at 4.00pm that day when Richards was observing the fort through his telescope. A consultation with the French officers led to a decision to take Greyhound closer to Culmore. Once a favourable wind blew up, Richards would ask Gwillam to sail his ship to within ‘cannon shot of the . . . fort’ as specified by Kirke. Whether an exact distance was intended by this instruction we do not know, but it does seem as if Richards was to sail into what the modern United States Navy would describe as ‘harm’s way’, although the order may also be interpreted as instructing Richards not to hazard the ship. He would be taking the ship into the firezone of the Jacobite artillery at Culmore, and there would be risk to Gwillam’s ship although a broadside from Greyhound, probably about
six cannon,3 would have more destructive power than the enemy artillery. However, the Jacobites would also be able to pour musketry into Greyhound if she came too close to the shore.

  Once darkness fell Richards was able to observe a number of large fires burning along the shore. One of these was the house that he had earlier watched Jacobite soldiers demolish; he now described it as being ‘all in flames’. Since the weather remained wet, even though it was now early June, these fires might have been lit by Jacobite soldiers to dry out their clothing as well as to provide heat and a cooking facility. There are only a few hours of darkness at this time of year and it was not long before dawn broke. The new day brought with it a ‘handsome gale’ from the north-west, which was exactly what Richards wanted to close on Culmore. Orders were issued to the crew to make the ship ready for action, and the gun decks were cleared of their partitions to reduce the risk of injury from splinters; kit was bundled into hammocks to provide protection from musketfire for the quarterdeck; and the crew took up their action stations.

  Greyhound sailed at 8 o’clock and was within range of Culmore later in the morning. The anchor was dropped and there was silence all around. No fire came from the gun positions on shore, but Richards could see activity in the enemy positions. Watching through his telescope he learned the reason for the lack of response from the Jacobite guns: they had not been positioned to deal with a threat from the lough. This was either incompetence or a dereliction of duty on the part of the garrison whose prime role was to stop any Williamite vessel entering the river at Culmore. Now the Jacobites were struggling to move a cannon, one of only two that Richards could see, from its normal position to one from which it could be trained on the ship.

  The duel was very uneven: Greyhound ‘s broadside against one Jacobite gun, which was probably no heavier than a demi-culverin and might even have been a saker – a 6- to 7¼-pounder. In spite of the smoke and fury of the exchange, little damage was wrought, although Richards believed that he saw a Jacobite gun split; this could happen as a result of overcharging a weapon with powder, from sustained firing or simply from a manufacturing defect. As the firing continued over the next forty-five minutes, Richards took the opportunity of climbing to the maintop, the platform atop the ship’s main mast, to check the boom, the reason for his foray to Culmore. What he saw of the boom was enough to convince him that Greyhound would not be able to break it and sail up the river to Derry.