The elders entered warmly into his plans.  It was a great relief, to them, to have the house cleared of the eighteen or twenty children.  Their mothers had no longer any anxiety for their safety, and the children themselves looked upon it as great fun.  There was plenty of air here, and, in a short time, John persuaded the parents to allow the children to sleep, as well as to pass the day, in the shelter.  Here he told them stories, constructed toys for them, and kept them amused and quiet, appointing as his lieutenants three or four of the oldest of the girls, who had the little ones under their special charge.  John was rewarded, for his pains, by seeing that the children kept their health far better than did those of their neighbours, and, up to the end of May, not one of them had succumbed, although several of the parents had already fallen victims to dysentery and fever.

Thus the month of May passed.  With June, the hardships rapidly increased; but, on the 13th, shouts of joy were heard in the streets.  John ran out to ascertain the cause, and learned that a fleet of thirty ships had appeared in Lough Foyle, and was approaching the city.  The inhabitants, frantic with joy, ran to the walls, and both sides suspended their fire to watch the approaching fleet.

Suddenly, the ships were seen to turn and sail away.  The people could not believe that they were deserted; but, when they saw that the fleet was really making off, curses and cries of lamentation and grief rose from the crowd.

Why Major General Kirk, who commanded the force on board the ships, which were laden with provisions, did not attempt to sail up to Londonderry, which, as was afterwards proved, they could have done without difficulty, was never satisfactorily explained.  The besiegers had erected two or three small forts on the banks of the river, but these were quite incapable of arresting the passage of the fleet, had it been commanded by a man of any resolution.  Kirk anchored in Lough Swilly, and contented himself with sending messages to the town, to hold out to the last.

A fresh search was now made for provisions, and parties of men entered houses which had been abandoned, or whose inmates had died, and dug up the floors of the cellars.  Several considerable deposits of grain were discovered, and many inhabitants, moved by the intensity of the general suffering, voluntarily brought out hoards which they had hitherto kept secret.

Early in the siege, the water in the wells had become turbid and muddy, partly owing, it was thought, to the concussion of the ground by the constant firing, partly by the extra supplies which were drawn from them.  As the time went on, many of them dried altogether, and the water in the others became so muddy that it had to be filtered through cloth or sacking, before it could be drunk.