But royal words, however sweet, could not conquer Ulster. Heroic as was his character in many ways, Essex had not the gifts which have been given to a few great generals. He could not infuse courage or endurance into wretched starvelings, nor had he administrative genius to conquer the shortcomings of his commissariat. Newry and Dundalk must have been evacuated but for a timely supply of herrings. The peculation was such that stores calculated to last six months did not last four, and that the full supplies for near 600 men were expended on much less than half the number. The powder was one-quarter coal dust, and was not worth firing. The Carrickfergus garrison was reduced nearly two-thirds by desertion and disease, and was so completely isolated that a traveller going to Dublin might consider 100 horse but a scanty escort. The filth of the town was such as to make fever almost universal. The services of religion were neglected, for the 'belly-fed ministers' who were induced to visit Ulster liked the danger and hard fare no better than the gentlemen adventurers whose service had consisted in eating without paying. The reinforcements sent were of such quality as to be worse than useless: 100 were raw recruits from Oxfordshire and Berkshire; 200 were from Cheshire and Lancashire, and so bad--the Lancashire men especially--as to be scarce fit for field labour. As labourers Essex had to keep them, 'for soldiers,' he said, 'they will never be.' One hundred veterans promised from Berwick had been countermanded on a rumour of Desmond's submission. Captain Morris, who had the leading of the ragged regiment, was destined to lay his bones in Ireland. The fact was that Carrickfergus had such a bad name in England that everyone who possibly could avoided service there. Waterhouse, who was at Chester in constant communication with Ireland, begged that the men might be sent to Carlingford; but routine seems to have been too strong for him, and they were despatched to the old pest-house. The wretched lads died like flies at the rate of fifteen or twenty a day--300 were sick at once, and none could hope to escape. Scarcely a man was fit even for sentry duty. Essex lay among his men, and there was not a night but one, two, or three died within ten feet of him. The remonstrances of his officers against this heroic foolhardiness prevailed at last, and he was induced to withdraw the remains of the garrison. Out of some 600 only 200, more dead than alive, reached the Pale, where he had to support them at his own expense.[276] [Sidenote: He still has hope.]