By evening they had come to the River Boyne on the opposite bank of which Lauzun, the French commander, had taken up his stand. His position was strong; he had made entrenchments and he had the river between him and the enemy.
Schomberg was worried, believing that they should wait before attacking, but William wanted to go quickly ahead into battle.
They rested for the night and the next morning as William breakfasted on the bank some Irish sentries saw him, and guessing him to be an important personage fired at him and his party.
One man and two horses were killed. In dismay William’s friends closed about him but not before a shot had grazed his right shoulder blade.
Portland was beside him, white faced and trembling.
“My time has not yet come,” William assured him. “This must be dressed quickly, for I am in a hurry.”
The wound was dressed and when Portland anxiously inquired if it were painful William retorted: “I have suffered much pain in my life, I can endure a little more.”
“Postpone the battle. Rest awhile. Schomberg feels we should not go into action yet.”
“Battles are rarely won by postponement, Bentinck. We have the superior force. Let us use it now before the enemy have time to strengthen themselves.”
As soon as his wound was dressed he mounted his horse and for the rest of the day went about his affairs as though nothing had happened. He was determined that everything should be ready for battle the next day.
That evening at nine o’clock he called together his generals and there was a council of war. His plan was to cross the river the next day and attack. There was opposition but he overruled it, and as soon as day broke on that 1st of July Schomberg with Portland beside him made a crossing of the river and at Slane Bridge they found a regiment of Irish guards whom they quickly beat. Lauzun had placed his own countrymen at the Pass of Duleek to prevent the right wing of the English army making a crossing; so the left and center of the force had only to face Irish Catholics.
As William made the crossing he called to his men to remember they were fighting for the Protestant religion: and they plunged into fierce battle.
The Irish went down before them. Schomberg fell, fired at in mistake by one of his own men; but William fought on; and James, who was watching from the Hill of Donore began to understand that this son-in-law whom he disliked was one of the greatest generals of his day; and that though courtiers might turn shuddering from him, soldiers rallied to him and fought as they would only for a great leader.
“Your Majesty.” It was a voice at his elbow and he knew what would be said before the words were spoken.
“It is time?” asked James.
“There is not a moment to be lost,” was the answer. James turned away; he had lost the battle; now it remained to save his life.
His horse was waiting.
“To Dublin, Your Majesty.”
“To Dublin,” he repeated.
He took one last look at the battlefield. The bitter truth was becoming clearer with every moment.
The Battle of the Boyne would soon be over, with victory for the Orangemen.
It was more than a bloody battle; it could be the end of hope. William of Orange was in Ireland to drive out James II and he would not rest until he had done it.
The only hope now was help from France.
But first he must think of preserving his life.
Shrewsbury at her side; William victorious in the decisive battle of the Boyne; James fled to Dublin and to France!
“Thank God,” prayed Mary, “he is safe. Thank God they are both safe.” If her father would stay in France and live there peacefully; if William would come and take over the task of troublesome government. But that would come, for the tide had changed.
William was no longer in danger from battle; but what of his health? Portland was there to look after him and she trusted Portland to do that well, although often she had been hurt because he had seemed to think it was a duty better performed by him than a wife.
Torrington had been recalled to face eventual court-martial and there was the task of appointing a new Admiral which no one was going to agree about. Perhaps the greatest piece of good luck of all was the stupidity of the French who, after the Battle of Beachy Head, having England at their mercy, could have landed and did not. Marlborough would have done his best to deal with them when they did, but the pick of the army was in Ireland and even the brilliant generalship of Marlborough could not achieve success without soldiers.
Invasion of England had always terrified the foreigner; it was believed to be well-nigh impossible, because the English had special protection from Providence; they had never been invaded. Somewhere deep down in the heart of every invading force was the fear that it never would be.
The French Admiral Tourville procrastinated. Anchored off Torbay he sent a small experimental force to Teignmouth. The little village was sacked and from his flagship, Tourville contemplated the flames with satisfaction. There were many Catholics in England, and he imagined that now he was at hand they would be ready to rise against the new rulers and stand for James, and make his landing easy.
But his soldiers had burned the church, and the men of Devon, shocked that their navy had failed to protect them, were incensed because an enemy had dared set foot on their land.
All other grievances were forgotten. If foreigners were attempting to land in England there was only one enemy. Whether James or William and Mary should rule was a matter to be settled internally. But foreigners must always be shown that England belonged to the English and no hostile foot should ever be allowed to set itself there unbidden.
Never mind the “Squeezing of the Orange” or drinking to the King over the Water now. It was: Curse the invader. We’ll show him what he can expect if he sets foot on Devon shores!
The whole of the West Country was rising against the Frenchmen. Bonfires were seen along the coast; the men of the West were ready and waiting.
It was true, Tourville realized; they were unbeatable. A small success at sea did not mean that the land could be conquered.
He had had that success; was it going to be forgotten in the ignoble failure of attempting the impossible?
Tourville was certain there was only one action to take; he took it and sailed back to France.
It was imperative that Torrington should be dismissed his command, and two names were put forward as his successors. These were Sir John Ashby and Sir Richard Haddock, both excellent men of wide experience and well capable of taking command of the Navy.
Mary had believed that the affair could be quickly settled, but she had forgotten the jealousy of those about her. The Admiralty was incensed because it had not been consulted. Why should the Cabinet decide who should command the Navy? Was it not the prerogative of the Admiralty?
The Cabinet said that they, with the Admiralty, should discuss the matter, but the Admiralty wanted no easy solution. The Queen had discussed the matter originally with the Cabinet; so why, when the Admiralty was represented, should she be absent?
Mary, angered by the pettiness of all this, refused to see them and Lord Lincoln, one of the Privy councillors, came bursting into her apartment, acting, as she said, like a madman, shouting at her, demanding this and that. She ordered him out; but weary of the ridiculous conflict agreed to make an appearance at the meeting.
It was a stormy meeting. The Admiralty rejected Haddock and Ashby, not on their merits, for they could find no fault with their records, but simply because they had been chosen by the Cabinet.
It was Russell who suggested that the two men should share the responsibility with a third man of quality whom they could all trust. The Earl of Shrewsbury was now recovered in health and he was a man of whom they all had a high opinion.