“ Shipped for the Burbadoes.”’ 355 
War-battered dogs are they, 
Fighters in every clime, 
Fillers of trench and of grave, 
Mockers bemocked by time 
War-dogs, hungry and grey, 
Gnawing anaked bone, 
Fighters in every clime, 
Every cause but their own.” 
We know only that under treaty and convention they took shipping and 
sailed away, guidons fluttering, standards high, pikes well-ordered, matches 
lighting, bullet in mouth, war-pipes perhaps screaming the Planaty Sudley 
as on that long past battle-day in Ulster by the Black and Oona Waters. On 
the headlands that “shoulder off the Western seas ’’ bonfires are held in readi- 
ness for many a year to greet the home-coming of the swordsmen, and the 
years pass, and the world changes again at the Restoration ; but few ever 
see again the Reeks of Kerry rise above the Shannon mouth or the twin 
peaks of Errigal look across the Swilly to the bellowing waters of the Moy!e. 
The sails dip below the horizon, and with the loud wailing of the women 
and children who can find no place on the ships the night of the Cromwellian 
curse falls on the tortured land. 
It will next be my task to narrate the fate of those who remained behind 
and to endeavour to trace, with the scanty records available, the process of 
the transportation of so many of them to the West Indian and American 
plantations and their subsequent history in these ultimate lands. 
(Read by the President, Joseph J. Nunan, B.A., L.L.B., sometime 
a Junior Fellow of the Royal University of Ireland, at a General 
Meeting of the Royal Agricultural and Commercial Society of 
British Guiana, October 31st, 1915. His Excellency the acting 
Governor, C. T. Cox, Esq., C.M.G., in the chair. 
