mall
fish caught in the river, and similar sparse supplies. They died by
hundreds. Disease aided starvation in carrying them off. The living were
too few and too weak to bury the dead. Bodies were left unburied, and a
deadly and revolting stench filled the air. That there was secret
discontent and plottings for surrender may well be believed. But no such
feeling dared display itself openly. Stubborn resolution and vigorous
defiance continued the public tone. "No surrender" was the general cry,
even in that extremity of distress. And to this voices added, in tones
of deep significance, "First the horses and hides; then the prisoners;
and then each other."

Such was the state of affairs on July 28, 1689. Two days' very sparse
rations alone remained for the garrison. At the end of that time all
must end. Yet still in the distance could be seen the masts of the
ships, holding out an unfulfilled promise of relief; still hope was not
quite dead in the hearts of the besieged. Efforts had been made to send
word to the town from the fleet. One swimmer who attempted to pass the
boom was drowned. Another was caught and hanged. On the 13th of July a
letter from the fleet, sewed up in a cloth button, reached the commander
of the garrison. It was from Kirke, the general in command of the party
of relief, and promised speedy aid. But a fortnight and more had passed
since then, and still the fleet lay inactive in Lough Foyle, nine miles
away, visible from the summit of the Cathedral, yet now tending rather
to aggravate the despair than to sustain the hopes of the besieged.

The sunset hour of July 28 was reached. Services had been held that
afternoon in the Cathedral,--services in which doubtless the help of God
was despairingly invoked, since that of man seemed in vain. The
heart-sick people left the doors, and were about to disperse to their
foodless homes, when a loud cry of hope and gladness came from the
lookout in the tower above their heads.

"They are coming!" was the stirring cry. "The ships are coming up the
river! I can see their sails plainly! Relief is coming!"

How bounded the hearts of those that heard this gladsome cry! The
listeners dispersed, carrying the glad news to every corner of the town.
Others came in hot haste, eager to hear further reports from the lookout
tower. The town, lately so quiet and depressed, was suddenly filled with
activity. Hope swelled every heart, new life ran in every vein; the
news was l