Latest / The History of Ireland: Rebellion, Empire, and Independence — Fexingo History / The Siege of Derry: 105 Days That Shaped Ulster
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked about the Battle of the Boyne and the Flight of the Wild Geese, but there's one event in between that really hardened the lines in Ulster — the Siege of Derry in 1689. It's one of those episodes where a single city becomes a symbol. Luna: I've heard the phrase 'No Surrender' tied to it, but I don't really know the story. Lucas: Right, that's exactly where it comes from. So the background is James II, a Catholic king, had been deposed by William of Orange in the Glorious Revolution of 1688. But Ireland was still largely loyal to James, especially the Catholic population. In Ulster, though, the Protestant settlers — descendants of the Plantation — were overwhelmingly for William. Lucas: In December 1688, James's viceroy in Ireland, the Earl of Tyrconnell, ordered a regiment of Catholic soldiers, the Earl of Antrim's regiment, to march north and garrison Derry. The city was a stronghold of the Protestant Ascendancy, and the citizens were terrified. Luna: And that's when the apprentice boys shut the gates? Lucas: Exactly. On December 7th, 1688, thirteen apprentice boys — young men training as tradesmen — took matters into their own hands. They ran to the gates, locked them, and refused to let the Catholic soldiers in. It was a direct act of defiance. The city leaders were hesitant, but the apprentices forced their hand. Lucas: That action effectively declared Derry for William. James's forces, led by the Jacobite general Richard Hamilton, moved to besiege the city in April 1689. The siege would last 105 days. Luna: 105 days — that's brutal. What were conditions like inside? Lucas: Appalling. The city was packed with refugees from the surrounding countryside, maybe 30,000 people crammed inside walls built for a fraction of that. Food ran out within weeks. People ate horses, dogs, cats, rats. There was a notorious trade in tallow and starch as 'food'. Typhus and dysentery swept through. By the end, maybe 10,000 people had died, mostly from starvation and disease, not direct combat. Lucas: The city was defended by a garrison under Major Henry Baker — he died during the siege — and later the charismatic Reverend George Walker, who became a sort of spiritual and military leader. But there was also a deeply controversial figure: the governor, Robert Lundy. Luna: I feel like I've heard 'Lundy' used as an insult in Northern Ireland. Lucas: You have. Lundy was a Scottish officer appointed to command the Williamite forces in the north. But he quickly lost faith. He thought Derry couldn't hold, and he secretly negotiated with the Jacobites, suggesting surrender. When the apprentices and citizens got wind of it, they forced him to flee the city in disguise. To this day, 'Lundy' is a byword for traitor among Ulster loyalists. Every December, they burn an effigy of him during the Closing of the Gates celebrations. Luna: So Lundy was replaced by Baker and Walker? Lucas: Yes. Baker took military command, and Walker became the public face of defiance, preaching from the walls and keeping morale up. But it was a grim slog. The Jacobites bombarded the city constantly from the east bank of the River Foyle, using batteries on Windmill Hill and elsewhere. The defenders held out, hoping for a relief force from England. Lucas: That relief finally arrived at the end of July. A fleet of ships under Major-General Percy Kirke sailed into Lough Foyle. But there was a problem: the Jacobites had placed a heavy boom — a chain of logs and cables — across the River Foyle at Culmore Fort, about four miles downstream from Derry. The ships couldn't get through. Luna: So the city was watching its salvation just out of reach? Lucas: Exactly. And the defenders were at their last gasp. By late July, the garrison was eating hides and tallow. But on July 28th, Kirke ordered a desperate gamble. He sent three ships upriver: the Mountjoy, a merchant ship packed with provisions; the Phoenix, another supply vessel; and the Dartmouth, a frigate to provide covering fire. Lucas: The Mountjoy, commanded by Captain Micaiah Browning, rammed the boom at full sail. It broke — but the ship grounded on the far side. Jacobite soldiers opened fire, and for a terrifying moment it looked like the mission had failed. But the Phoenix slipped through the gap, and the Dartmouth's guns kept the enemy at bay. The Mountjoy eventually refloated and also made it through. Luna: So the food got in. What was the reaction inside the city? Lucas: Jubilation. People wept, they cheered. George Walker later wrote that the sight of the ships was 'the most joyful that ever we saw'. The siege effectively ended that day. The Jacobite army withdrew a few days later. Derry had held. Lucas: Now, the impact was enormous. It cemented the Protestant identity of Ulster in a way that lasted for centuries. The slogan 'No Surrender' became a rallying cry for Ulster loyalism. The Apprentice Boys of Derry society was founded in 1814 to commemorate the event, and they still hold parades every December. Luna: It's interesting how a single siege could shape a whole community's sense of itself. Lucas: Absolutely. And here's something that ties to what we were just saying about community memory — if you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you might have noticed how often a single event becomes a touchstone for identity. That's one reason listener support matters for a show like ours — it lets us keep digging into these stories without ads or commercial breaks. People who value that can help at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: Yeah, it's a small thing that makes a big difference for keeping the show going. Lucas: So back to the siege — one of the lesser-known aftermaths is that George Walker became a celebrity. He went to London, was presented to King William, and was even painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller. But his fame was short-lived. He returned to Ireland and was killed at the Battle of the Boyne the next year, in 1690. Luna: He died at the Boyne? That's an ironic end for a hero of the siege. Lucas: It is. He was leading his men in a charge when he was shot. Some say he was reckless, trying to prove himself as a soldier. But his legacy as the face of Derry's defiance never faded. Luna: And what about the thirteen apprentice boys? Did they become famous? Lucas: A few of them are known by name — Henry Campsie, William Crookshanks, Samuel Hunt, and others — but most are obscure. The group as a whole, though, became legendary. Their action on that December day is reenacted every year, and they're honored as the ones who sparked the resistance. Lucas: The siege also had a dark legacy: it deepened sectarian divisions. The suffering inside Derry was blamed on 'popery' and 'tyranny', and it fed into the Penal Laws and the Protestant Ascendancy's grip on power. For Catholics, the siege was a defeat, and the Williamite victory reinforced their subordination. Luna: So it's a story of heroism, but also of division. Lucas: Right. And it's a reminder that history isn't simple. The same event that inspires bravery and sacrifice can also entrench hatred. The Siege of Derry is still a living memory in Northern Ireland — you can see its echoes in murals and parades even today. Luna: I've seen some of those murals. They often show the boom breaking or the ships coming up the Foyle. Lucas: Exactly. The iconography is everywhere. And the phrase 'No Surrender' isn't just historical — it's used politically. But understanding the story behind it, the actual hunger and fear and desperation, gives it a depth it otherwise lacks. Luna: It makes you think about how different commemorations can be when you know the history. Lucas: That's why we do this. Alright, next time we'll look at another event that shaped the 18th century — the Penal Laws themselves, and how they created the Catholic underclass. Luna: Looking forward to it.