During fishing expeditions, previous to the commencement of the siege, John had more than once had a drink of water from the well of a peasant, living in a little hut near the river bank.  This hut lay between the outposts of the two parties, and had, at the commencement of the siege, been deserted by its owner.  After the water became bad, John set out every evening with a bucket, leaving the town just before the gates were shut, and making straight down to the river.  When it became dark, he crawled along under the shelter of the banks, unperceived by the outposts of either party, until close to the hut.  Then he filled his bucket at the well, and returned as he had come, lying down to sleep on the bank, well in the rear of the Protestant outposts, until morning; when, as soon as the gates were opened, he carried home the precious supply.

It was this, as much as the light and air, which kept the children in comparative health; but, on the further diminution of rations which took place after Kirk’s fleet retired, they began to fade rapidly.

The horses had now been killed for food.  The sufferings of the besieged inhabitants became greater daily, and numbers died from sheer starvation.  The little inhabitants of John Whitefoot’s castle were mere skeletons.  Most of their parents were dead, and a mournful silence pervaded the town, save when the bells of the chapels called to prayer, or the yells of the mob announced that the lower orders were breaking into houses in search of food.

John could stand the sight of the faces of the suffering children no longer.  He was himself faint and ill from hunger, for he had, each day, given a portion of his own scanty rations to the weakest of the children, and he determined to try and get them some food, or to die in the attempt.

He set out at his usual hour in the evening.  The tide was high, but just running out, and, entering the river, he floated down with the stream.  Keeping close under the bank, he passed the batteries which the besiegers had erected there without notice, dived under the great boom which they had constructed across the river, directly Kirk’s expedition had retired, and continued to float down to the mouth of the river, where he landed and boldly struck across the country, for he was now beyond the lines of the besiegers.  He knew that his friend Walter was in the Royalist army, for one of the last mails which entered the city had told him that he was to accompany his father, and that Captain Davenant’s troop would most likely form part of any army that might march for the north.

By the morning, his clothes had dried upon him, and he then boldly entered the Royalist camp, mingling with the peasants who were bringing in provisions for sale.  He soon learned where Captain Davenant’s troop was stationed, and made his way thither.  He stood watching for some time until he saw Walter come out of a tent, and he then approached him.  Walter looked up, but did not recognize, in the thin and pallid lad before him, his former companion.