his fellow exiles,
received a mortal wound in the thigh. Four of his men carried him back
across the ford to his tent. As he passed, he continued to urge forward
the rear ranks which were still up to the breast in the water. "On;
on; my lads: to glory; to glory." Schomberg, who had remained on the
northern bank, and who had thence watched the progress of his troops
with the eye of a general, now thought that the emergency required
from him the personal exertion of a soldier. Those who stood about him
besought him in vain to put on his cuirass. Without defensive armour
he rode through the river, and rallied the refugees whom the fall of
Caillemot had dismayed. "Come on," he cried in French, pointing to the
Popish squadrons; "come on, gentlemen; there are your persecutors."
Those were his last words. As he spoke, a band of Irish horsemen rushed
upon him and encircled him for a moment. When they retired, he was on
the ground. His friends raised him; but he was already a corpse. Two
sabre wounds were on his head; and a bullet from a carbine was lodged
in his neck. Almost at the same moment Walker, while exhorting the
colonists of Ulster to play the men, was shot dead. During near half an
hour the battle continued to rage along the southern shore of the river.
All was smoke, dust and din. Old soldiers were heard to say that they
had seldom seen sharper work in the Low Countries. But, just at this
conjuncture, William came up with the left wing. He had found much
difficulty in crossing. The tide was running fast. His charger had been
forced to swim, and had been almost lost in the mud. As soon as the King
was on firm ground he took his sword in his left hand,--for his right
arm was stiff with his wound and his bandage,--and led his men to the
place where the fight was the hottest. His arrival decided the fate of
the day. Yet the Irish horse retired fighting obstinately. It was long
remembered among the Protestants of Ulster that, in the midst of the
tumult, William rode to the head of the Enniskilleners. "What will
you do for me?" he cried. He was not immediately recognised; and one
trooper, taking him for an enemy, was about to fire. William gently put
aside the carbine. "What," said he, "do you not know your friends?" "It
is His Majesty;" said the Colonel. The ranks of sturdy Protestant yeomen
set up a shout of joy. "Gentlemen," said William, "you shall be my
guards to day. I have heard much of you. Let me see something of yo