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The reverend beckoned Robert to him. ‘Do you know that boy?’
    Robert reluctantly said he did. He too had been alarmed at James threatening to fire on the soldiers, even if he was only pretending. Locking them out was one thing, firing a cannonball – real or imaginary – was something else entirely.
    Reverend Gordon said quietly, ‘You might tell your friend …’
    Robert interrupted him, ‘He’s not really a friend, sir. We just played together as children.’
    ‘In any case,’ said the reverend, ‘tell him that if he ever endangers his city like that again, he shall be locked up forthe rest of his days. I’ll see to it personally.’
    Robert bowed his head. ‘Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.’
    Meanwhile, another party was making itself known. Derry’s resident Catholics were naturally quite shaken by the afternoon’s events. The Presbyterian and Anglican Church leaders merely stood and stared at the dozen or so Catholic neighbours who introduced themselves to the lieutenant. Their spokesman talked quietly. He didn’t want to attract attention; he just wanted to inform the officer that their wishes matched his. ‘We are a friend to King James and truly sorry for how you and your men are being treated.’
    Not surprisingly, the lieutenant had been far from impressed with James Morrison’s antics and let the spokesman know as much. ‘I know the boy was bluffing but is that the way things are headed?’
    The spokesman sighed, ‘A letter was found containing a warning that all Protestants are to be murdered on 9 December.’
    The lieutenant baulked. ‘That’s preposterous. Who wrote it?’
    One of the other Catholic men said, ‘It wasn’t signed. Just somebody wanting to stir up trouble, I should imagine.’
    The lieutenant thought aloud, ‘I need to contain the situation.’
    The first man nodded. ‘What can we do to help?’
    Glancing around them, the lieutenant asked, ‘Do you know where the weapons are kept? I presume the garrison is fully stocked. I need you all to go there right now and take command of it, until I can get my men into the city.’
    Without a moment’s hesitation, the group of Catholic citizens turned and headed away to do his bidding. There was hope yet that everything would work out peacefully. Most of their wives had begged them to leave Derry that very day, but they had held out, wanting to do what they could to help. Derry was their city too, their home. It was a brave decision, especially when so many of their friends were busy packing up to leave. Also, they had heard that most, if not all, of the Dominican friars had already gone. It was probably just as well since their Protestant neighbours seemed to believe that all Catholics were about to turn into murderers the following night. ‘Aye,’ one of them had said, ‘probably on the stroke of midnight!’
    Unfortunately, the lieutenant’s instructions had been heard by more than the group of Catholic men. A rush of whispers floated through the crowd.
    Robert heard it first. ‘He’s sent the Papists to seize the weapons!’ Slapping Henry’s arm, he called out, ‘Come on!’
    The thirteen boys broke into a run, even though some of them had no idea why.
    Samuel Hunt, who clearly enjoyed his mother’s baking,wheezed after Daniel, ‘What’s going on now?’
    Daniel, doing his best not to smash into anyone or trip himself up, replied, ‘We’re going after the guns!’
    Samuel wished he had a horse or that his friends would slow down a bit.
    ‘Short cut!’ yelled Robert and led the way. Some skill was required; the street was narrow with plenty of people milling about in the most useless fashion. Robert longed to push his foot up the backside of a woman who had suddenly spotted a friend. She stopped sharply, blocking his way, and was not impressed with how clumsily he slid by her. He gritted his teeth as she exclaimed, ‘Well, I never. You rude, rude boy!’
    There was also the delicate matter of not skidding into the