to
Donald Ward, and then calling Neal, questioned him about the condition
of the town of Antrim. Neal repeated all that Lord Dunseveric had said,
and told how he had been shown a copy of the proclamation.

"You will not tell anyone else what you have told me, Mr. Ward," said
M'Cracken, "the news that our plans are known to the enemy might be
discouraging to the men. It does not alter my determination to take
Antrim to-day. Now I must give you your orders and your posts." He
called Donald Ward to him. "You will take charge of our two pieces of
cannon," he said. "They are at the rear of the force. Neal Ward, you
will join the first division of the army--the musketeers--and place
yourself under James Hope's command. I think this is what both you and
he would wish. Felix Matier and James Bigger will do likewise. Moylin,
you and your two friends will march with the pikemen, whom I lead
myself. Some of the men have arms for you."

The party had fallen somewhat to the rear of the column during this
conversation with M'Cracken. Neal and his two companions hurried forward
at once in order to reach the division of musketeers which was in the
van. They had opportunity as they passed along to admire the steady
march and the determined bearing of the men. Green flags were everywhere
displayed. The long pikes, iron spear-heads fastened on stout poles,
were formidable weapons in the hands of strong men. An almost unbroken
silence was preserved in the ranks. The northern Irishmen are not great
talkers at any time. Set to work of deadly earnest, they become very
silent, very grim.

There were men in the little army belonging to some of the finest
fighting stocks in the world. There were descendants of the fiery Celtic
tribes to whom Owen Roe O'Neill taught patience and discipline; who,
under him, if he had lived, might well have broken even Cromwell's
Ironsides and sent the mighty Puritan back to his England a beaten man.
Despised, degraded, enslaved for more than a century, these had yet in
them the capacity for fighting. There were also the great-grandsons of
the citizen soldiers of Derry--of the men who stood at bay so doggedly
behind their walls, whom neither French military art nor Celtic valour,
nor the long suffering of famine and disease, could cow into surrender.
There were others--newcomers to the soil of Ireland--who brought with
them to Ulster the traditions of the Scottish Covenantors, memories
of many a fierce struggle