Towards the end of 1610 the agents of the Londoners arrived to take possession of their new estate. Their coming forced the Deputy to change his tactics. He saw that the waters he had seized could not all be retained, and arranged with Hamilton to make a partial surrender of them and seek compensation for the “sacrifice.” James I., unaware of the pretensions of any claimant to Lough Foyle and the Bann, had covenanted to give the Londoners an unclogged title. They naturally expected that all blots on it would be removed before they made a venture costing (in present moneys) £600,000. The Charter guaranteed that, if necessary, their rights would be confirmed by Acts of Parliament both in England and Ireland. The “bag” of the Ulster fisheries by Sir Arthur and his partner then stood:— Lough Foyle and Culmore Chichester’s. Lough Neagh Chichester’s. The non-tidal Bann Chichester’s. One quarter of the tidal Bann Chichester’s. Three-quarters of the tidal Bann Hamilton’s. As deserving owners they were ready to make sacrifices for prompt cash to further the royal policy, and yield up what had been contracted to the Londoners. The Deputy modestly kept in the background, and Hamilton represented him as Claims Agent. With tradesmanlike particularity, the “Scot” sent in a bill to his Majesty through Chichester, who frigidly transmitted it to London as an impartial broker. It prettily set out that Hamilton, with seven mythical partners, disbursed £4,760 in buying up the estates of “sundry persons” in the Bann and Lough Foyle—over and above “the costs and charges expended as well in suits of law as otherwise for the clearing of sundry titles and claims.” This account was vouched by the Deputy as accurate, and his disinterested corroboration of its fairness was accepted by his royal master. Without further investigation £4,500 (or, in modern values, £45,000) was paid to Hamilton in June, 1610. The King’s undertaking to defray the expense of clearing the title for the Londoners weighed heavily on his cramped resources. Shrinking at the outlay, he refused to provide more than £2,500, and left the balance, £2,000, to be paid by the other victims—the Corporation. Between regal meanness and viceregal greed, the Londoners were effectively squeezed.