Ireland under the Stuarts and during the Interregnum, Vol. I (of 3), 1603-1642

The Portadown massacre, about Nov. 1, 1641

The church at Blackwater

Alleged apparitions

Investigation by Owen Roe O’Neill

The Portadown massacre has been more discussed perhaps than any episode in the Irish rebellion, and it has left behind it an ineffaceable impression of horror. The victims were only a part of those murdered in the county of Armagh, but more than 100 – one account says 160 – were killed at one time – and the affair was carefully planned beforehand. The chief actor was Captain Manus O’Cahan, but many of the sufferers had received passes from Sir Phelim himself. O’Cahan and his men, Mrs. Price deposed, forced and drove all those prisoners, and amongst them the deponent’s five children, by name Adam, John, Anne, Mary, and Jane Price, off the bridge into the water. Those that could swim were shot or forced back into the river. When Owen Roe O’Neill came to the country he asked in Mrs. Price’s hearing how many Protestants the rebels had drowned at Portadown, and they said 400. If this is correct the cruel work on the Bann must have continued for some time. They also said that those drowned in the Blackwater were too many to count, and that the number thrust into lakes and bog-holes could not even be guessed at. On November 17 they burned the church at Blackwaterstown with a crowd of Protestants in it, ‘whose cries being exceeding loud and fearful, the rebels used to delight much in a scornful manner to imitate them, and brag of their acts.’ Attempts have been made to discredit the evidence on the ground that Mrs. Price and others refer to apparitions at the scene of the Portadown massacre. Screams and cries are easily explained, for wolves and dogs fed undisturbed upon the unburied dead. But Mrs. Price says she actually saw a ghost when she visited the spot where her five children had been slaughtered, and that Owen Roe O’Neill, who came expressly to inform himself as to the alleged apparitions, was present with his men, who saw it also. It was twilight, and ‘upon a sudden, there appeared unto them a vision, or spirit assuming the shape of a woman, waist high, upright in the water, naked, her hair dishevelled, very white, and her eyes seeming to twinkle in her head, and her skin as white as snow; which spirit or vision, seeming to stand upright in the water, divulged, and often repeated the word “Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!”’ O’Neill sent a priest and a friar to question the figure both in English and Latin, but it answered nothing. He afterwards sent a trumpet to the nearest English force for a Protestant clergyman, by whom the same figure was seen and the cries of ‘Revenge!’ heard, but Mrs. Price does not say she was present on this occasion. The evidence of this lady shows no marks of a wandering mind, and yet it is evident that she believed in an apparition. It is quite possible that some crazed woman who had lost all that was dear to her may have haunted the spot and cried for vengeance, but in any case a belief in ghosts was still general in those days, and especially in Ireland. The evidence as to the massacre is overwhelming.²⁹⁶

Bedell at Kilmore

He is allowed to relieve many Protestants

He refuses to leave his post

He is imprisoned at Lough Oughter

He is released

Fate of his library

Bedell was at Kilmore when the rebellion broke out. The Protestants were surprised, but it was remembered afterwards that there had been an invasion or migration of rats, and that caterpillars had appeared in unusual numbers. It was more to the purpose that a crack-brained Irish scholar who wandered from house to house was heard frequently to exclaim, ‘Where is King Charles now?’ and that he wrote in an old almanac ‘We doubt not of France and Spain in this action’ – words which he may have heard in some conventicle of the Irish. The fugitive Protestants crowded to Kilmore, where they were all sheltered and fed, the better sort in the palace and the rest in out-buildings. The bishop’s son, who was there, likens the stream of poor stripped people to ‘Job’s messengers bringing one sad report after another without intermission.’ After a few days, Edmund O’Reilly, the sheriff’s father, ordered Bedell to dismiss his guests, who were about 200, chiefly old people, women and children. On his refusal those in the detached buildings were attacked at night and driven out almost naked into the cold and darkness. The bishop’s cattle were seized, but he had stored some grain in the house, and was still able in an irregular way to relieve many stray Protestants. On one occasion he sallied forth to rescue some of them, and two muskets were placed against his breast. He bade them fire, but they went away, and still for some time the palace walls were allowed to shelter those within. One of these was John Parker, afterwards Bishop of Elphin, who had fled from his living at Belturbet. ‘For the space of three weeks,’ says Parker, ‘we enjoyed a heaven upon earth, much of our time spent in prayer, reading God’s word, and in good conference; inasmuch as I have since oft professed my willingness to undergo (if my heart did not deceive me) another Irish stripping to enjoy a conversation with so learned and holy a man.’ Church service was regularly continued, but the investment of the house became closer, Bedell resolutely refusing to quit his post, although the Irish urged him to leave the country and promised all his company safe convoy to Dublin. His own children wished him to accept this offer, and it is probable that the Bishop himself and possible that his guests might have reached the capital in safety, but the experience of others had not been encouraging. Some prisoners having been taken by the Scottish garrisons at Keilagh and Croghan, and Eugene Swiney, the rival Bishop of Kilmore, pressing for restoration to his palace, Bedell and his family were at last expelled. ‘I arrest you,’ said Edmund O’Reilly, laying his hand on the Bishop’s shoulder, ‘in the King’s name.’ Having first arranged that the Church plate provided by himself should be handed over to the other Bishop, Bedell was conveyed to a castle upon an island in Lough Oughter. He was allowed to take his money with him, and his two sons with their wives accompanied him. They were well treated on the whole, but the castle had neither glass nor shutters to the windows, and they spent a cold Christmas. Some of the prisoners were in irons, and Bedell earnestly desired to share their fate, but this was refused. The party were dependent on the Irish for news, and at first they heard much of the disaster at Julianstown and of the certain fall of Drogheda. But an English prisoner who knew Irish listened one night through a chink in the floor, and heard a soldier fresh from Drogheda tell the guard that the siege was raised. ‘The bullets,’ he said, ‘poured down as thick from the walls as if one should take a fire-pan full of coals and pour them down upon the hearth, which he acted before them, sitting altogether at the fire. And for his own part he said he would be hanged before he would go forth again upon such a piece of service.’ At last Bedell and his sons were exchanged for some of those in the hands of the Scots, and released from the castle. The Bishop’s remaining days were spent in the houses of Dennis Sheridan, a clergyman ordained and beneficed by him, whose vicarage was near at hand. Sheridan, though a Protestant, was a Celt, and respect for his clan secured him a certain toleration. He was instrumental in saving some of Bedell’s books, among them a Hebrew Bible, now at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and the Irish version of the Old Testament which had cost so much trouble, and which was not destined to be printed for yet another generation. Most of the books and manuscripts were taken away first by friars and afterwards by English soldiers, who sold them. ‘Certain of the Bishop’s sermons,’ says his son, ‘were preached in Dublin, and heard there by some of his near relations, that had formerly heard them from his own mouth: some even of the episcopal order were not innocent in this case.’

Bedell’s death, Feb. 9, 1641-2

Respect shown him by the Irish

Bedell remained for some weeks with Sheridan, preaching often and praying with those that were left to him. The house was crowded with fugitives, and typhus fever broke out among them. Old and enfeebled by his imprisonment, the Bishop insisted on ministering to the sick, and was at last struck down himself. Philip MacMulmore O’Reilly came to see him, offering money and necessaries, and cursing those who had contrived the rebellion. Bedell, though very weak, rose from his chair to thank him, ‘desiring God to requite him for the same and to restore peace to the nation; though hardly able to stand, he yet beyond expectation thus expressed himself without any faltering in his speech, which he had not done for a great while before.’ The effort exhausted him, and he spoke but little afterwards, answering, ‘Well’ to those who asked him how he did and saying ‘Amen’ to their prayers. His last words were, ‘Be of good cheer; whether we live or die we are the Lord’s.’ Bishop Swiney made some difficulty about burying his rival in Kilmore churchyard, but was overruled by the O’Reillys. Many Irish attended the funeral, and some of the Sheridans bore the coffin; Edmund O’Reilly and his son the sheriff, with other gentlemen brought a party of musketeers and a drum, which was beaten as at a soldier’s burial. ‘The sheriff told the Bishop’s sons they might use what prayers or what form of burial they pleased; none should interrupt them. And when all was done, he commanded the musketeers to give a volley of shot, and so the company departed.’ Another account says that some priests present ejaculated, ‘Requiescat in pace ultimus Anglorum,’ and that one of them, Edmund Ferrely, added a fervent prayer that his own soul might accompany the Protestant bishop’s – ‘O sit anima mea cum Bedello.’ The general goodwill extended to those about him, and none of his family or immediate friends appear to have been personally molested.²⁹⁷

The English defeated at Julianstown, Nov. 29, 1641

Importance of this affair

Good officers were scarce, but six hundred raw recruits were sent under Major Roper, who was a young man, to reinforce Tichborne, and Sir Patrick Wemyss accompanied them with fifty horse of Ormonde’s troop. They might easily have reached Drogheda early on the morrow, but the new levies were mutinous, and refused to go further than Swords on the first day or than Balrothery on the second. At seven on the morning of November 29 they were at Lord Gormanston’s gate, and Roper went in to see him. He was informed that the Irish had crossed the Boyne to intercept him, and that he had better be careful. Roper did not even warn his officers, but marched on with little precaution. He crossed the Nanny river by Julianstown bridge in a thick fog, and was there attacked by a greatly superior force under Philip MacHugh O’Reilly, Hugh O’Byrne, and O’More. Roper’s men were better armed, but scarcely knew how to use their weapons. The fog made their assailants seem stronger than they really were, and the foot yielded to panic and broke almost without striking a blow. Wemyss easily reached Drogheda, and Roper with two captains and a hundred men followed him; but all, or nearly all, the rest were killed, and the Irish, who did not lose a man, were at once supplied with arms. ‘The men,’ says Ormonde, ‘were unexercised, but had as many arms, I think, within a few, as all the rebels in the kingdom, and were as well trained as they.’ But among the insurgents were plenty of Strafford’s disbanded soldiers, who knew how to use muskets, and Protestant prisoners in Ulster remarked how much the Julianstown affair added to the confidence of the Irish.²⁹⁸

Belfast and Carrickfergus saved

The Irish defeated at Lisburn

Lord Conway’s library burned

Carrickfergus was the ancient seat of English power in Ulster, and thither the Protestants of Down and Antrim fled in great numbers. The rising settlement of Belfast was near being abandoned, but Captain Robert Lawson heard of the outbreak at Newry, gave up his journey to Dublin, and hurried back to the Lagan. Lord Chichester was actually on board ship, but Lawson bought a drum and perambulated the town, seized all the arms he could find, and soon got nearly 200 men together. Before Sir Phelim O’Neill could hope to attack Carrickfergus it was necessary to take both Belfast and Lisburn, and the latter place was attacked by Sir Con Magennis with several thousand men the day before the disaster at Julianstown. The Ulster Irish had by this time collected a good many arms, including two field pieces, and they had taken plenty of powder at Newry. The garrison consisted only of Lord Conway’s troop and of a few newly raised men, but they were skilfully commanded by Sir Arthur Tyringham, the late governor of Newry, and Sir George Rawdon, whom all trusted, arrived from Scotland on the evening before the town was attacked. Taking advantage of the ground, Tyringham held the streets all day, his cavalry slaughtering the assailants in great numbers. There had been snow the day before, followed by a thaw, and then by frost, so that the ground was covered with ice. ‘All the smiths,’ says one of the besieged, ‘had been employed that whole night to frost our horses, so that they stood firm when the brogues slipped and fell down under their feet.’ Communication with Belfast was kept up, and Chichester sent many horse-loads of powder in bags, so that the ammunition held out. At nightfall the Irish set fire to the town, which was entirely consumed, and a confused fight went on till near midnight. After the fire began Chichester’s troop of horse arrived with a company of foot, and the assailants were finally discomfited. ‘Every corner was filled with carcases, and the slain were found to be more than thrice the number of those that fought against them.’ The field pieces appear to have been thrown into the river. Next day the retreating Irish burned Rawdon’s house at Brookhill containing Lord Conway’s library, and property worth five or six thousand pounds, but they never gained military possession of the Belfast district, though many Protestants were driven out of the open country.²⁹⁹

The gentry of the Pale combine with the Irish

Speech of O’More

There have been many occasions in Irish history when the Government has lacked power either to put down its enemies or to protect its friends. The gentry of the Pale would hardly have joined the rebels on account of such an affair as Julianstown, but they had grievances, and the Irish managers pressed them both with arguments and threats. As governor of Meath, Lord Gormanston called upon the sheriff to summon a county meeting, which was held upon Crofty Hill, about three miles to the south of Drogheda. It had been previously arranged that a deputation from the Ulster Irish should appear there, and in due time O’More with Philip MacHugh O’Reilly, Hugh O’Byrne and others rode up ‘in the head of a guard of musketeers, whom the defeat at the bridge of Julianstown had furnished with arms of that kind.’ Gormanston, who was supported by the Earl of Fingall and five other peers, acted as spokesman and asked the newcomers why they came armed into the Pale. In a prepared speech O’More answered that they had been goaded into action by penal laws which excluded them from the public service, and from educational advantages. ‘There can,’ he said, ‘be no greater mark of servitude than that our children cannot come to speak Latin without renouncing their spiritual dependence on the Roman Church, nor ourselves be preferred to any advantageous employment, without forfeiting our souls.’ The Lords Justices, he added, had refused parliamentary redress, lest they should be prevented from extirpating Catholicism with the help of a Scotch army. To crown all, they had branded the Ulster chiefs as rebels, whereas one of their greatest motives had been to vindicate the royal prerogative from encroachment ‘by the malignant party of the Parliament of England.’ In conclusion, he called upon the gentry of the Pale to join the party whose interest and sufferings were the same as their own. When the applause subsided, Gormanston asked the Ulstermen whether their loyalty was genuine. The answer was of course affirmative, and he then invited those around him to make common cause with the Irish. ‘And thus,’ philosophises Bellings, ‘distrust, aversion, force, and fear united the two parties which since the conquest had at all times been most opposite, and it being first publicly declared that they would repute all such enemies as did not assist them in their ways, they appointed a second meeting of the country at the hill of Tara.’³⁰⁰

Meeting at Tara, Dec. 7, 1641

The lords of the Pale refuse to go to Dublin

Sir Phelim O’Neill’s manœuvres

The die was now cast, and a summons from the Lords Justices calling the chief men of the Pale to a conference at Dublin came too late. The meeting at Tara took place on December 7, and an answer was then returned signed by seven peers to the effect that they were afraid to put themselves into the power of the Government, and thought it safer to stand on their guard. They had, they said, been informed that Sir Charles Coote had spoken words at the Council table, ‘tending to a purpose and resolution to execute upon those of our religion a general massacre.’ The Lords Justices answered that they had never heard Coote say anything of the kind, and that anyone who made any such suggestion should be severely punished; and they again summoned the lords of the Pale to be at Dublin on the 17th. Ormonde personally gave his word of honour that they should return safely, and urged them not to lose this last opportunity of showing their loyalty. But they had gone too far to draw back, their tenants and dependents had gone still further, and Sir Phelim O’Neill persuaded them, as they were ready to believe, that he had great resources. He arranged a sham powder factory, and so acted his part as to make them think he could turn out an unlimited supply. The story reads like fiction, but Bellings records it in sober earnest, and he must have known. O’Neill had no military experience or capacity, but his confidence imposed upon the hesitating men of the Pale, who not only gave him chief command in the attack on Drogheda, but also a sort of commission as governor of Meath.³⁰¹

The despoiled Protestants flock into Drogheda

Wretched state of the refugees

Sir Faithful Fortescue leaves Drogheda in the lurch. Lord Moore

Tichborne reaches Drogheda, Nov. 4

Lord Moore heard of the Ulster rising on October 23, and of his sister Lady Blaney’s imprisonment. He was then at home at Mellifont, but came into Drogheda at midnight and roused the mayor and aldermen, who cursed the rebels ‘foully,’ but were very slow to make any preparations for resistance. Not forty men answered the call to arms, and they were armed with pitchforks and fowling pieces. On the 26th he brought in his wife and family and his own troop of horse. There were two half standing companies under Netterville and Rockley, but the former’s loyalty was suspected, and the men could scarcely be trusted. Moore posted to Dublin, but could only obtain a commission for Captain Seafowl Gibson to raise a company. Gibson brought down arms and ammunition and got a hundred Protestant recruits in two hours. Some of these watched for ten nights running. In the meantime the Irish had taken Dundalk and were plundering all Protestants not five miles from Drogheda. ‘Miserable spectacles of wealthy men and women,’ says Bernard, ‘utterly spoiled and undone, nay, stripped stark naked, with doleful cries, came flocking in to us by multitudes, upon whom our bowels could not but yearn.’ The majority of the townsmen only smiled, but took care to ring alarm bells when the Protestants were at church. Sir Faithful Fortescue, who was married to Lord Moore’s sister, had been lately appointed governor of the town, and he also went to Dublin for help. Finding none, he resigned his commission in disgust and went to England. ‘By his disheartening letters,’ says Bernard, ‘he gave us over, being willing to hazard his life for us, yet loth to lose his reputation also.’ Moore assumed the command, but he had only about 300 men including Gibson’s recruits, and the Roman Catholic population was all but openly hostile. Bernard summoned all the Protestants privately man by man to meet in the church, and the whole congregation solemnly vowed that if God would defend them they would endeavour to serve Him better in future. Three days later there was a solemn fast. Half of Moore’s troop patrolled the streets every night, while the other half scoured the country, to guard against surprise and to collect cows and other provisions for the garrison. Two hundred of the enemy were killed during these raids and eighty brought in alive. ‘Such was our mercy,’ says Bernard, ‘we only hanged six,’ the remaining prisoners being so well fed by the townsmen that they did not care to escape. A well-written copy of Sir Phelim O’Neill’s proclamation was picked up in the streets, and a general rising of the inhabitants was feared. Then came news that the Scots had retaken Newry. The report proved false, but it strengthened Moore’s hands, and Bernard was reminded of the trampling of horse heard by the Syrians before Samaria. Sir John Netterville fell foul of the acting governor, declaring that the Irish should not be called rebels, and he was suspected of having the guns stuffed so as to render them unserviceable. Many well-to-do Protestants escaped by sea, but Bernard refused to desert his poorer flock. He was also unwilling to part from Ussher’s library, which was in his charge, and which might easily have shared the fate of Lord Conway’s and the Bishop of Meath’s. On November 4 Sir Henry Tichborne appeared with his forces, and after that the townsmen could do nothing; but they showed their discontent by keeping him waiting from two o’clock in the afternoon until nine at night before they would provide him with quarters.³⁰²

Drogheda besieged, 1641-2

A successful sally

Provisions introduced by sea

A night attack repulsed

Sir Phelim gains the chief command

Tichborne found that the Julianstown disaster had virtually decided the whole wavering population of the Pale. He saw that he would have to maintain himself for some time without much help, and that food would soon be scarce. He strengthened the fortifications of the Millmount on the southern bank of the Boyne, and mounted four guns there. The rebels had destroyed most of the provisions in the neighbourhood, but there was still a quantity of unthreshed wheat at Greenhills, near the eastern or St. Lawrence’s gate on the south side of the Boyne. On December 3 he sent a body of cavalry round by a gate further to the north, and leaving other men under arms in the town, he himself marched straight to his point. The advanced guard was driven in panic-stricken, and for a moment it seemed as if there would be another Julianstown. But Tichborne managed to rally his men, dismounting to show that he would share their fate, and shouting, ‘They run!’ while the first volleys hid the field. ‘It appeared somewhat otherwise,’ says Tichborne, ‘upon the clearing up of the smoke,’ but his courage inspired his followers and they gained a complete victory, pursuing the enemy for nearly a mile. Of the besiegers two hundred were killed, while Tichborne had only four men wounded. After this success the garrison were always ready to fight, while the besiegers were always beaten in the open field. An attempt to carry the town by assault during the long night of December 20 failed, and several successful sallies were made during the following three weeks. Tichborne sent a pinnace to Dublin for help. At first no one could be got to steer her, but he placed some of the aldermen on board in situations exposed to the fire of the besiegers. The result was that pilots were quickly found. In answer to this appeal six vessels were sent with provisions and ammunition for the garrison, and on January 11 they came from Skerries to the Boyne in one tide. Clumsy efforts had been made to block the channel with a chain and with a sunken ship, but the bar was nevertheless passed and the stores safely landed. The garrison, who had been half-starved, feasted that night, and the officers, though specially cautioned, could not keep as strict discipline as usual. Tichborne was writing despatches all night, and about four in the morning he heard a muttering noise which differed from the sounds caused by wind and rain. He ran out with his pistols and found that five hundred of the enemy had entered an orchard between St. James’s Gate and the right bank of the river. A weak spot in the wall had been opened with pickaxes, and the Irish had crept in two or three at a time. Tichborne turned out the nearest guard, bade them fire across the river, and ran towards the bridge, where he found his own company under arms. Leaving these trusty men to maintain the passage, he ran to the main guard, where he found a good deal of confusion, but many followed him, and he regained the bridge just in time to reinforce those who were holding it against great odds. Tichborne’s horse was led out by a groom, but broke away from him and galloped madly about the paved streets. Believing that cavalry would soon be upon them, the assailants broke. Nearly half escaped by the gate at which they had entered; the rest were killed or hidden by friendly townsmen. The whole attack had been planned by a friar, and shots were fired at Tichborne’s men out of a convent, but the assailants were so badly led that they never thought of seizing St. James’s Gate, though they might easily have done so from the inside. A strong body was drawn up outside, expecting to be let in. A bagpiper was among those who had been taken, and some officers made him play while they opened the gate. Those who entered were at once overpowered. The result of this failure was to show the lords of the Pale that divided counsels were dangerous, and they gave Sir Phelim O’Neill command over all the forces about Drogheda.³⁰³

Tichborne at Drogheda

Mellifont destroyed

‘After Tichborne’s arrival,’ says Bernard, ‘we took heart to call the enemy rebels instead of “discontented gentlemen.”’ The garrison consisted of 1500 foot and 160 horse, so that the malcontents within the walls were afraid. One Stanley, a town councillor, who had been an officer in the enemy’s army, came in on protection accompanied by the sheriff of Louth, who was a member of Parliament. These two advised Moore to go to Mellifont, reminding him that his father had lived there safely all through Tyrone’s rebellion, and suggesting that he might be general if he pleased. Moore knew better, and being now released from the cares of command, went in the middle of November to Dublin, where Parliament was about to meet. He offered to raise six hundred men, and to pay and clothe them himself until money came from England, provided he should be their colonel, with the addition of about four hundred men at Drogheda, who were not part of Tichborne’s own regiment. As soon as the Irish heard of this offer they destroyed Mellifont. The garrison of twenty-four musketeers with fifteen horsemen and some servants refused Macmahon’s first offer of quarter, and were overwhelmed by numbers after their powder was spent. The mounted men escaped to Drogheda, but all the others were killed. The women were stripped stark naked. The scum of the country were allowed to plunder at will, and they carried away the doors and windows and smashed all the glass and crockery. The chapel was selected as a proper place to consume the contents of the cellar, the bell was broken, and a large Bible thrown into the millpond. Finding some tulips and other bulbs, they ate them with butter, but this food disagreed with them, and they cursed the heretics as poisoners.³⁰⁴

Drogheda was not closely invested

Narrow escape of Sir Phelim, who retires from Drogheda

Ormonde relieves the town, March 11

During the first three weeks of February several successful sallies were made by the garrison. They were, however, at one time reduced to small rations of herrings, malt, and rye, and it seemed doubtful whether they could hold out. Many horses died for lack of provender. At four o’clock on the morning of Sunday, February 21, Sir Phelim attempted an escalade at a quiet spot near St. Lawrence’s Gate, but the sentries were on the alert, and the assailants fled, leaving thirteen ladders behind them. On the 27th there was another sally, and three hundred of the Irish were killed on the fatal field of Julianstown. On March 1 Tichborne sent out four companies of foot and a troop of horse to forage on the south side of the Boyne. There was some resistance, and in the afternoon the governor went out himself. The Irish advanced from the little village of Stameen, but fled at the approach of horse. The redoubtable Sir Phelim only escaped capture by crouching like a hare in a furze-bush, and the Meath side was thenceforth safe. ‘The noise of vast preparations for besieging the town,’ says Bellings, ‘which at first was frightful, grew contemptible.’ Food supplies were now secure, and Tichborne assumed the offensive more boldly than before. On March 5 Lord Moore led out five hundred men to Tullyallen, near Mellifont, Tichborne following him with a reserve force. Moore engaged the Irish and defeated them with a loss of four hundred men and many officers. Among the prisoners was Art Roe Macmahon, for whose head a reward of 400l. had been promised by Government. The soldiers were going to cut it off when he cried out that Lady Blaney and her children should be saved if his life was spared. Macmahon kept his word, though the result was long doubtful. After this disaster the rebels abandoned their headquarters at Bewley, and Sir Phelim was seen before Drogheda no more. On March 11 Ormonde arrived with 3000 foot and 500 horse, and the so-called siege came to an end. Plattin and Slane were soon in Tichborne’s hands. The Irish army had at one time numbered at least 16,000, but they had neither the skill nor the means for reducing a strong place.³⁰⁵