"We can do nothing," the tanner replied. "The council have met, and have
determined to keep the gates closed. We are dying for the cause. They
must do so too; and they will not die in vain, for all Europe will cry
out when they hear of this dastardly act of cruelty."

The people outside were animated by a spirit as stern as that of the
besieged, and the women cried out, to those on the walls, to keep the
gates shut and to resist to the last, and not to heed them.

The ministers went out through the gates, and held services among the
crowd, and the people on the walls joined in the hymns that were sung
below. So, for three days and nights, the people within and without
fasted and prayed. On the third day, a messenger arrived from King James
at Dublin, ordering General Rosen at once to let the people depart.

The indignation, among the Irish gentlemen in the camp, at Rosen's brutal
order had been unbounded, and messenger after messenger had been sent to
Dublin, where the news excited a burst of indignation, and James at once
countermanded the order of the general. The gates were opened now, and
the people flocked out and exchanged greetings with their friends. A few
able-bodied men in the crowd entered the town, to share in its defence,
while a considerable number of the women and children from within mingled
with them, and moved away through the lines of the besiegers.

John had, the day before, gone out when the gates were opened for the
preachers, and at night had again safely made the passage to the mouth of
the river and back. He found the lantern burning among the bushes, and
two kegs placed beside it, with a bountiful meal of bread and meat for
himself.