MAP SHOWING THE LINES OF THE AUTHOR’S THREE ESCAPES. (1) Verdun-Étaples (2) Sarreguemines-Lindau (3) Bitche-Salzburg. [The names of the French Departments of 1806-8 are indicated thus—Aisne-Forêts etc.
TheHussarFrigate is sent home with despatches, and wrecked on theSaintes—Efforts to save the ship—Attempt to escape in the boats foiled by bad weather—A surrender to the enemy.
TheHussarFrigate is sent home with despatches, and wrecked on theSaintes—Efforts to save the ship—Attempt to escape in the boats foiled by bad weather—A surrender to the enemy.
Itwas on Monday, the 6th February 1804, that theHussarmade sail from Ares Bay in Spain, being bound for England with despatches, from our commodore Sir Edward Pellew, and with orders first to communicate with our Channel Fleet off Brest. We had a fresh breeze from the S.W.; and on the succeeding day (Tuesday, 7th) the wind and weather were nearly the same. At noon, to the best of my recollection, we were in lat. 46° 50´, Ushant bearing N. 37° E., distant 113 or 114 miles.
On Wednesday (8th) the wind and weather were the same, and we were steering, as nearly as I can recollect, N.E. by E., and running nine knots an hour. Every heart was elated with the joyful expectation of being safely moored in a few hours in the land of liberty. Some were employed in writing to their friends and relatives; but, alas! how frail and delusive are the hopes of man! How differently had our lot been decreed! The happy arrival, with many, never took place. With all the others it was long delayed; and the vicissitudes and miseries we were doomed to suffer will amply appear in the subsequent pages.[Pg -498]
It was upon this fatal Wednesday, at about 10.45P.M., whilst steering this course of N.E. by E., and running at the rate of about seven knots an hour, in dark and hazy weather, theHussarstruck upon the southernmost point of theSaintes. We beat over an immense reef of rocks, carried away our tiller in several pieces, unshipped the rudder, and, from the violence of beating over the reef, we damaged the ship’s bottom so considerably that the leak became very serious. At length we got into deep water, and let go our bower anchors, to prevent being dashed to pieces on the immense rocks ahead. We got our top-gallant yards and masts on deck, and used every possible means to lighten the ship. The greater part of the crew were kept at the pumps; whilst the remainder, with the officers, were employed in staving the water-casks in the hold, in shoring the ship up, as the ebb tide was making and she was inclining to starboard, and in doing all that was deemed expedient to the safety of the ship. All was unavailing. The carpenter reported that she was bilged; and we could distinctly hear the rocks grinding and working through her as the tide fell.
At daylight Mr. Weymouth (the master) was sent to sound for a passage amongst the rocks, on the supposition that we might be able to buoy the ship through, but he returned without success; though, had he accomplished it, from the state the ship was in, there could have been little hope of getting her out. A division of the seamen and marines, with their respective officers, was then ordered to take possession of the island, that in the last extremity there might be an asylum secured for the men and officers. The rest of the crew remained at the pumps, but with no success, as the leak kept gaining upon them. The islandwas taken without any opposition, the only people on it being a few distressed fishermen and their families.
About 11A.M.we began to land the crew, no hopes remaining of being able to save our ship. However, the remainder of the people kept still working at the pumps, waiting the return of the boats. At noon, the flood making strongly, and we fore-reaching withal, Captain Wilkinson gave directions to let go the sheet-anchor, which was immediately done. Strong gales from S.W.
February 9th.—By about 1P.M.everybody was safely landed, with two or three pigs and some biscuit, which were the only subsistence we had secured. Captain Wilkinson and Mr. Weymouth came in the last boat. At about 1.30P.M.Lieutenant Pridham, with Messrs. Carey, Simpson, and Thomas (three warrant-officers), and myself, were ordered by the captain to return to the ship, to cut her masts away, and destroy everything we could possibly get at. On our arrival on board, the water was nearly square with the combings of the lower deck. At about 3.30P.M.we quitted her, having executed with the greatest accuracy the duty we were ordered upon: the wind still increasing, left us but little hope of her hanging together for the night.
We joined the officers and crew in a small church; and this was the only place on the island where we could conveniently take up our residence. The weather was excessively inclement during the night. At daylight, discovering the ship still apparently whole, Captain Wilkinson despatched Mr. Pridham and Mr. Mahoney (master’s mate), with a party of men, to destroy her by fire. The other officers and people were employed in equippingthirteen fishing-boats, which belonged to the inhabitants,[3]for the purpose of transporting the ship’s company, either to our fleet off Brest or to England, as circumstances might admit. Mr. Pridham and his party returned, and the report of the ship’s guns announced the execution of the duty they had been sent upon.
On the 10th, at about 1.30P.M., our boats were in readiness, it then blowing hard from the S.W. We all embarked in them. I had the honour to command one, with twenty-five men; Captain Wilkinson, with the master, leading in the barge, which was the only ship’s boat in company. We made sail out of the little creeks in which the boats had been moored, the sea running excessively high, and at about two the barge hauled up to the N.W. We all, of course, followed. About 2.30 or 3 o’clock in the afternoon we bore up again. Several of the boats were in distress, being very badly found, having neither sails, rigging, nor ground tackling that could be at all trusted to. Lieutenants Pridham and Lutwidge (who remained prisoners of war until the peace of 1814), and Lieutenant Barker (who was afterwards killed in a duel at Verdun), were to keep ahead, as no other boat had compasses. At about five, in a very severe squall with rain, we lost sight of the barge. Everybody in our boat was of opinion that she had been upset; and at 5.30P.M., it blowing extremely hard, with a heavy shower of rain, we lost sight of all the boats. At about six we observed St. Matthew’s Light[4]on the weather bow. Thewind now chopped round to the N.W., in a very heavy squall, which carried away our mainmast in the step[5]and fore-tye, and very nearly swamped us, having almost filled the boat with water. We chipped the heel of the mainmast, restepped it, and rove the main-tye and halliards forward, which enabled us to set the foresail, and keep scudding before the wind to Rock Fort, with the expectation of falling in with some of the other boats; but in this we were disappointed. At eleven we determined to anchor at the bottom of Bertheaume Bay, though with very little or no hope of riding long, our only ground tackling being a small grapnel and a very few fathoms of one inch and a half rope.
We providentially succeeded in bringing up, though we were, unfortunately, too near the shore and most miserably situated: the weather tide, running strongly against a violent gale from the N.W., occasioned such a sea as to bury us frequently in its abyss.
At 2A.M., the sea breaking in a most terrific manner over us, and finding that we were driving and almost touching abaft, expecting every second to be dashed on the rocks astern of us, we hauled in briskly on the grapnel rope, hoisted the foresail and wore round, paying out the grapnel rope just hauled in, until we brought it right over the quarter, which enabled us to get our grapnel on board with ease; then we stood over to the Camaret Bay side, in the hope of falling in with some little haven to shelter us, or with one of the other boats; but we were disappointed in either expectation.
At about 4.30A.M., finding we advanced towards BrestHarbour considerably, we resolved to try the grapnel once more; although we were not in the smallest degree sheltered from the inclemency of the weather, and were placed immediately under a fort, which we distinguished by its lights, that enabled us to see the sentinels on their posts walking to and fro. We made, if possible, worse weather here than at our former anchorage, with the exception that the grapnel held. At 7.30A.M.the wind and weather became more inclement than on the preceding night. Not a boat of ours was in sight, every minute we expected to be hailed by the fort, and not a soul amongst us could speak a word of French. We were almost perishing and starved from the fatigue and sufferings of the night, the few provisions we had being totally destroyed by the salt water. Seeing no alternative but the pain and mortification of delivering myself and my boat’s crew prisoners of war, I came at length to that resolution. Accordingly I ordered all the small arms in my boat to be hove overboard, and at eight cut the grapnel rope, and ran into Brest Harbour under the foresail.
Imagining that the boat’s crew and myself might be better received and treated on board the commander-in-chief’s ship than in a private vessel, I went alongside theAlexandre, which ship bore his flag, and I surrendered myself and my crew as prisoners of war.
A kind reception by the enemy—Our shipmates all prisoners—Consolations under misfortunes—Prisoners sent to the hospital at Brest—Robbery by a French seaman—Running the gauntlet—Dilemma of wearing or giving up a sword—Kindness of the French nuns—Orders to march into the Interior—Wounded pride and hard fare—Bad faith of the Minister of Marine—The march begins for Verdun—Arrival at Landernau—Aristocratic differences in rates of pay or allowances amongst republicans—Landiviziau—An illustration of equality—Morlaix to Rennes—Prisoners and vermin—Vitré—English dogs at a French inn—Laval—A spectacle for the mob—Alençon—Difficulties increased—Part of the crew separated from their officers—Our arrival at Rouen—An honest gaoler and his amiable wife—A moderate bill for gaol fare—Bons garçonsin a prison—Our arrival at Amiens—English sympathy for suffering countrymen.
A kind reception by the enemy—Our shipmates all prisoners—Consolations under misfortunes—Prisoners sent to the hospital at Brest—Robbery by a French seaman—Running the gauntlet—Dilemma of wearing or giving up a sword—Kindness of the French nuns—Orders to march into the Interior—Wounded pride and hard fare—Bad faith of the Minister of Marine—The march begins for Verdun—Arrival at Landernau—Aristocratic differences in rates of pay or allowances amongst republicans—Landiviziau—An illustration of equality—Morlaix to Rennes—Prisoners and vermin—Vitré—English dogs at a French inn—Laval—A spectacle for the mob—Alençon—Difficulties increased—Part of the crew separated from their officers—Our arrival at Rouen—An honest gaoler and his amiable wife—A moderate bill for gaol fare—Bons garçonsin a prison—Our arrival at Amiens—English sympathy for suffering countrymen.
Iwas not disappointed in my expectations, for I was received with the utmost civility. Every attention was paid to me, and I was provided with a suit of dry clothes. They got me instantly (of which I never before stood more in need) a warm draught, and gave each of my men a glass of liquor, and ordered breakfast for them, with everything else that was necessary to recruit exhausted nature, and to console them under their sufferings and misfortunes. The poor fellows were in a most deplorable state, shivering and shaking like aspen leaves; some of them were so worn out with fatigue, hunger, and the extreme severity of theweather that they could scarcely articulate when spoken to. The French officers informed me also, that the whole of the boats, except mine and one other, from the extreme violence of the weather, had been obliged to make for Brest, and had arrived in the night; whilst they added that they had been under the greatest apprehensions for our safety, as it was not supposed possible, from the size of the boats and the manner they were found, that they could exist through the severity of the night. Lieut. Barker, Mr. Nepean, a midshipman, and now a commander, and Mr. Carey, the boatswain (who afterwards died at Verdun), came on board, from the other French ships-of-war in which they were prisoners, to congratulate me on my extraordinary escape and safe arrival. We were, however, under the strongest and most painful apprehensions that Mr. Robert James Gordon, the midshipman who commanded the boat which had not yet arrived, had perished with his companions.
The next day, the 11th, at 2P.M., we were all sent on shore to the hospital at Brest, which was the place assigned to us, as each individual was more or less unwell from the hardships he had undergone.
To mark the character of the French seamen and of their naval service, I must here relate that a small leathern trunk or valise, in which I had saved a change of linen, etc., had been taken out of one of our marines’ hands, by a French sailor who spoke a little English, under the pretence of saving him the trouble of carrying it down the ship’s side; whilst the scoundrel, instead of putting it into the boat, handed it in through one of the lower-deck ports. Our marine, who remained on the ship’s gangway, had construed the transaction into an act of kindness, and concludedthat the trunk had been safely deposited in the boat which was to carry us on shore; nor was the theft discovered until upon our landing, when the humble, though to me invaluable, property could not be found. I immediately communicated the fact to the officers who conducted us, and they instantly sent on board an order to search for the valise. In fact, they appeared excessively hurt that such an act of villainy should have been committed by one of their crew. They assured me that the perpetrator should be severely punished, and that my little portmanteau should be safely returned. I despaired of this very much, though I entertained little doubts of the first part of the promise being faithfully kept. In the meantime, these officers conducted us to the hospital, and insisted upon my wearing my sword all the way. The captain had refused to receive it on board, observing that I had been unfortunately wrecked, and not taken in fight, and, consequently, that I had no right to lose my sword; and he further remarked, that, in his opinion, we ought to be returned to our native country, and should not be considered as prisoners; but he added that the gaoler on shore would deprive me of my side-arms, which was afterwards the case.
On our arrival at the hospital, or rather prison (as we were closely watched and guarded), the gaoler took away my sword, and appeared very much enraged at my not allowing him to take my belt; this, I observed to him, could do no mischief. I now had the inexpressible happiness of shaking hands with all the officers, excepting Mr. Thomas (carpenter), who was unfortunately drowned in attempting to land in Bertheaume Bay, and Mr. Gordon (midshipman), who, I was very much pleased to hear, wassafe at Conquêt, where he had effected a landing. We expected him and his boat’s crew round to Brest the following day.
On the 14th we had the pleasure of seeing him and his crew safely arrived; they spoke very handsomely of the treatment they had received at Conquêt and on the march. I now received part of the things that were in the valise, and the thief, I was informed, had run the gauntlet.
We were very well used during our stay here, and were attended byreligieuses, or old nuns, which is a general custom in all the French hospitals. They were the most attentive nurses I ever beheld: constantly on the alert; visiting their patients; administering relief wherever it might be wanted; and always solacing the dejected.
On the 18th we received information that we should commence our march towards our depot on the following morning; and accordingly, on the 19th, we were ready at a moment’s notice. At about eight o’clock we were all drawn up in the hospital yard. Mr. Mahoney and myself (being the senior midshipmen) took our stations, as we were accustomed, next to the lieutenants; but, to our great surprise, on the names being called over, we were moved, together with Mr. Carey, the boatswain, and Mr. Simpson, the gunner,[6]and placed next to the seamen. At the same time, each of us was offered a loaf of brown bread for the day’s subsistence, which we declined. We demanded of the French officers an explanation of this extraordinary conduct, and they informed us that we were of a class (master’s mates) different from any in theirnavy, and that they had, therefore, ranked us asadjutants, orsous-officers, and they insisted that they could not make any alteration. Lieut. Pridham now interfered in our behalf. It appeared he had been made acquainted, on the preceding night, that we should be thus ranked; but not being versed in the regulations and titles of the French military service, he had supposed that an adjutant was equal to a rank between a midshipman and a lieutenant in our navy; and this, of course, he thought our proper place. After remonstrating for a long time against the impropriety of our being degraded to the ranks and put among the people, the officer agreed to go to the Minister of Marine[7]to have the business, as he termed it, arranged. He shortly returned; the Minister of Marine was out, but we received an assurance from his head clerk or secretary that the mistake should be rectified the moment he returned, and that a courier would be despatched after us to the next stage with anotherfeuille de route. Thus far reconciled, we commenced our forced march—and, as we were informed, for Verdun, in Lorraine,—although our crew appeared quite indignant at this insult or disrespect offered to their officers, and refused to move until we persuaded them to be obedient.
At about seven in the evening we arrived at our first stage, the small and miserable village of Landernau, about twenty miles N.E. of Brest. I anxiously expected every moment the arrival of the courier, so little was I then acquainted with the nature of French promises and with the French character. Here, as a great favour, we were permitted to mix with the officers. Our allowance waseleven sous, or 5½d. per diem; whilst the youngest midshipman or volunteer had fifty. The allowance to the men, I believe, was only five sous.
At daylight, on the 20th, we commenced our march, rather more dejected than the day before. In the evening we arrived at Landiviziau, a distance of five or six leagues from Landernau, than which it was much smaller. Here we halted for the night, and the people were placed in stables, barns, etc. At daybreak, on the 21st, we commenced our march towards Morlaix. At about two in the afternoon, at four or five miles’ distance from the town, we were met by a captain ofgendarmerieand twogendarmes, who, we understood afterwards, came out to escort us into that place. They had not long joined us when I happened to discover one of our ship’s boys lifting his hand to strike a young midshipman. I immediately ran up and chastised the youngster with a switch I fortunately had in my hand; but mark my amazement! when I beheld this blustering captain ofgendarmeriefoaming at the mouth, and riding up towards me at full speed, with his sword drawn. He appeared to be in a very great rage, swore vehemently, and wielded his sword repeatedly over my head. As I did not understand a syllable of what he spoke, but was certain it must be abusive language, from the passion he put himself into, I, parrot-like, repeated his own expressions as well as I could; which irritated him to such a degree, that had not the officer of infantry who was escorting us, and our own officers, interfered, I do not know to what length he might have carried the outrage. The officer of infantry expostulated with him on the impropriety of drawing his sword upon a naked prisoner, who could not even understanda word that he said. He declared, and persisted in it, that I spoke as good French as he did; that we were all prisoners alike; that we were now in a country where every man enjoyed liberty; and he would take care that whilst we were with him we should not tyrannise over one another; or, in other terms, that the officers should be on an equality with the men. I observed that some of the crew understood him, and that they explained his meaning to others, which seemed to please them extremely.
We had not, however, marched more than a mile when a circumstance took place which gave us all a fine specimen of the liberty boasted of in this land of republicanism and equality. A poor man, who appeared to be at least seventy years of age, happened to be conducting a cart along the road, and as he was approaching us this lover of liberty called to him to turn his horses aside until we had passed; but the poor unfortunate old man not hearing, and continuing his way, this brute rode up to him, and beat and mauled him so unmercifully that the seamen literally hissed him, and asked repeatedly, “If that were the liberty he had so much vaunted about a few minutes before?”
At about five in the afternoon we arrived at Morlaix. Our people were lodged and treated for the night much as usual; but the officers, including myself and Mr. Mahoney, were allowed to go to a tavern. On inquiry I found that this redoubtable captain of thegendarmeriehad been a weaver before the Revolution, and by his perfidy had got advanced to the rank he held. I was informed that he visited our people in the night, and used his utmost exertions to make them turn traitors and enter into the French service. Most glad am I to say that he found allhis efforts fruitless; and to the honour of our country be it related, that every proposal he made, every temptation he offered, was treated with disdain.
On the 22nd, about eight, we again commenced our route, and, after a long march, arrived at a small village, Belle-Isle-en-Terre, where we remained for the night, disagreeably situated, the village being excessively poor and small, the people extorting double prices for everything; however, this I have since found to be almost general throughout France.
On the 23rd, at the usual hour, about eight, we recommenced our route towards Guingamp, where we arrived tolerably early. It is a spacious town, and appeared well peopled. We rested here during twenty-four hours, and were pretty well treated. The country, though late in the season, appeared beautiful. It is very fertile, and yet the peasantry seemed excessively poor and distressed.
On the 25th, at daylight, we recommenced our march towards St. Brieux, the last town on the sea-coast that we had to touch at, and we arrived at about four o’clock. We were very closely guarded, which certainly was necessary, as the town was only a mile and a half from the sea, and it was the intention of a great number to slip their fetters; however, this proved impossible. We had another guard ordered, which we all regretted, as the officer who had conducted us from Brest to this place was a perfect gentleman, and preserved the utmost moderation towards the prisoners—who were not, by the bye, at all times very well behaved. I here planned an escape, but could not accomplish it.
At daylight, on the 26th, we recommenced our route with our new guard. About ten, in passing close to thesea, we were halted; the guard loaded their pieces, examined their locks, and did everything to intimidate us and overawe any desire to resist them. They appeared to be alarmed lest we should attempt to escape, though they were nearly as many as their prisoners in number. It would have been a desperate business, and no vessels were near in which 300 men could be embarked; but the bare possibility of our escape had nearly induced us to run the risk.
About five we arrived at Lamballe, and on the 27th, at eight, we were put upon our march for Rennes. We arrived at our place of destination on the 29th. The officers were allowed to go to a tavern, but we who were still ranked asadjutantswere conducted to the common gaol; and, notwithstanding a number of representations and remonstrances conveyed to the general commandant of the town, we were kept in confinement until the 2nd of March, having had at Rennes what was styled a day’sséjour. Much rather would I have continueden route, as in this gaol we were associated with malefactors and criminals of every denomination, and, in despite of every effort, we found ourselves covered with vermin. We had at length another guard placed over us, joined our officers, and were very much pleased at being once more in the pure air.
We were now put upon our forced route to Vitré, where we arrived at about eight o’clock on the evening of 2nd March, having on this day walked the distance of nearly ten leagues, or about twenty-five English miles. At this town we met with but sorry treatment under our mortification and distresses. We had great difficulty to gain admittance into any inn, and still greater to procurerefreshments of any sort. Upon remonstrating with the landlord about our miserable supper, and at the exorbitant price he charged for it, he retorted by calling us “English dogs,” and told us that we ought to be glad to get anything, and that the officers and public authorities were to blame for not placing us in a stable, or in some other place better appropriated to such brutes than an inn. If he had his will, he added, he would very soon treat us as such dogs deserved. In this strain he continued—a strain much less to our annoyance than his bad supper and extravagant charges. This specimen of the national feeling of France, at this period of excitement, shows that the French thought well of English bulldogs, at least with respect to their digesting a long bill of fare. The river Vilaine runs through Vitré, and the town seems supplied abundantly with fish.
At daylight, on the 3rd of March, we quitted ourpoliteandhospitablehost, and were marched towards Laval, a tolerably large town on the Mayenne, renowned for its linen manufactories. We arrived about five in the evening, and were kept some time in the market-place, as aspectaclefor the inhabitants, before we were shown to our respective places for the night. Some of the people who could speak English came to inform us that our gracious sovereign, George the Third, had been dead several days and that the result would be a general peace. We spurned at their intelligence, and, much to their annoyance, assured them that we did not give them the smallest credit.
From Laval we passed through Préz-en-Paille, a very small town, to Alençon, where we arrived on the evening of the 5th, and were allowed to rest for twenty-four hours. Never was rest more needful to the desponding and weary.We had now marched many days through bad roads during an inclement season, and under all the feelings that deprive the traveller of the elasticity of spirits which supports bodily health, and enables him to conquer all difficulties, to undergo all fatigues, and to disregard all privations. Hitherto our whole ship’s company, with their officers, had been kept together, but now even this consolation was to be destroyed. At Alençon the high-road branches off in two directions, the one leading to Paris through Versailles, the other striking off to the N.E. to Seéz, Bernay, and Rouen. Unhappily the French rulers had ordered that what they termed “the officers” should travel to their journey’s end by the former route, whilst the crew should proceed to their destined place of imprisonment by the road through Rouen. Here the mistake as to my rank by the Minister of Marine most seriously affected me. I was not to be included in the grade of officer. The lieutenants, midshipmen, and other officers were therefore ordered to march on the road to Paris, whilst I and Mr. Mahoney, with the boatswain and gunner, asadjutants, or no officers, were ordered to proceed with half of the ship’s company by the road through Rouen to Charlemont, or Givet, in the department of the Ardennes.
I confess this separation grieved me extremely. Parting with my messmates and friends in a foreign country, together with the insult and injustice of being placed in an inferior rank to my brother officers, could not fail of producing the depression so natural to any honourable mind. The feeling was reciprocal on the part of my brother officers, and we separated with regret, they on the Paris route, and I and my companions on the more dreary road of the north.
Leaving Alençon, we passed through Seéz and Bernay, and at length arrived at Rouen, at about two in the afternoon of the 12th. The hardships we underwent were inconceivable.
This large and splendid city, with its magnificent cathedral and manufactures, and with the beautiful scenery that surrounds it, might excite expectation and joy in the approaching traveller, but no such sensations can be roused in him who has been exhausted in a prison, worn out by fatigue, disgusted by ill usage, and who has the prospect only of a long confinement.
Upon our arrival at Rouen we were all put into the common gaol, and it was of a character to give us not a very favourable idea of prison management or discipline in France. But I cannot pass over a circumstance that had happened before our arrival. Trivial as it is in one respect, it still illustrates the French character with respect to impositions in inns, even in the provincial towns or small villages.
About nine in the morning of the day on which we entered Rouen, we were halted at a village on the banks of the Seine, in order to procure refreshment, and yet all we could get were eggs and bread. But if an egg is to be eaten with a spoon, the spoon must bear some proportion to the egg: here, however, we were supplied with pewter spoons of no ordinary dimensions. I observed to the French officer who had us in custody, that smaller spoons would be more convenient; and, as he could not deny a truth so palpable, he asked the old lady of the house if she had any. She replied in the affirmative, and, with alacrity, opened a large coffer, and taking thereout six silver tea-spoons, placed them on the table. With thesespoons we ate our eggs, and, having finished our poor repast, we called for our bill; but what was the surprise of us poor and exhausted prisoners when, in our wretchedness, we found that the old hag had charged us—what in a French village is not a trifle—a penny each for the use of her silver spoons! Even the French officer was quite amazed, and asked her what she could mean by such a demand. The old mercenary creature, who proved herself a compound of extortion and nationality, replied withsang froid, “You see, sir, these Englishmen are so particular that they cannot even eat like other people. My spoons have not been out of my chest for a number of years, and I am determined they shall pay for the trouble they have put me to.” The officer in charge ought to have resisted the imposition, but he made no such attempt; and, being defenceless, we paid our pennies, and respectfully wished thehonest old ladya good morning.
I had another opportunity in Rouen of witnessing French shrewdness. I observed a number of brigs and small craft laid up in the river, in a dismantled and totally neglected state, and I could not help expressing, to one of the Frenchmen confined with us, my astonishment that those vessels should not have been equipped and sent to sea upon some commercial venture. “And where, sir,” replied the Frenchman, “would be the use of the attempt when the English would have the vessels before they had completed one voyage?” This was unanswerable.
The prospect down the Seine was grand and beautiful. My view, however, was now changed to one of a very different character. The transition from the delightful scenery, with Nature’s freshness and exhilaration, to themiseries of a common gaol, was rapid, and much increased, in this instance, by the gloomy countenance of the gaoler and his dear companion of a wife. They exhibited to us a perfect specimen of matrimonial concord, for both cordially agreed in accosting us in very antipathetic terms; and they were still more matrimonially harmonious in their assurances that if we did not instantly pay fortwonights’ lodgings we should be placed in cells not of the best description and with culprits of the very worst. We could not entertain the slightest suspicion of the veracity of these worthy people, nor could we conceive a doubt that we were under the dominion of absolute and irresponsible power; and, notwithstanding we knew that what these kind people had said was a law, we took the liberty of asking why they demanded payment fortwo nights; and in matrimonial concord they replied, “That we were going to enjoyone day’srest in the gaol, and that the officer who had escorted us had assured them of the fact.” There was no resisting such logic, nor could we maintain the position that the French Government ought to provide for its prisoners of war; and we were reduced to the necessity of paying for the comfort of a two-nights’ lodging in gaol which we had the happiness of occupying for only one whole day.
This French officer, whose name, to the best of my recollection, was Galway, lived with us in all the small towns through which we passed, professing a great deal of friendship for us, whilst we were paying his expenses, and repeatedly declaring that he would prevent our being confined in the gaol of Rouen—would be himself responsible for us on account of our gentlemanly conduct, and by that means enable us to remain at an inn. But, alas! so shallowwas this honourable gentleman’s memory that he even forgot to leave us our last day’s allowance, or prisoner’s money, of eleven sous, or fivepence halfpenny sterling, and did not recollect to give to his successor in power over us the certificate he had received from our officers, stating our rank, and explaining the unfortunate mistake that had been made upon this subject at Brest. His keeping the point of honour, and of honesty and duty, would have been of material service to us; but I suppose that he did not even recollect, after he had disposed of us, that there was a gaol in the city, for we never saw him or heard of him after we had been placed under bars and bolts.
It was now that we came into terms with our host and his rib, and paid them a sum, equal to two shillings each, for the two nights’ lodging. This pleased them so much that they were convinced that we were officers and gentlemen; and they conducted us, with a great deal of respect and politeness, into an apartment in which there were two prisoners and three beds. Two of the beds were assigned to us. Our room-mates, we soon discovered, were debtors. The landlady very charitably observed that she was certain that we must be faint and in want of refreshment; and she kindly added that she would send us some bread and a bottle of good wine for the present, and would procure us,pauvres enfans!a comfortable dinner in about an hour’s time; and then she and her husband, after a thousand curtsies and bows, withdrew, not forgetting to turn the key in the door and to take it with them. We all agreed that this was a considerate, charitable, good woman; but much more did we extol her when we saw the bottle of wine and loaf of bread. The man who brought it was a smart, active turnkey, who said, “Mistress is very busy incooking dinner for the English captains. I have had the pleasure of waiting very frequently on British officers in this prison—they were very extravagant, and liked to live very well,” etc. But this conversation did not by any means suit his present guests; so we made signs to the fellow to be off. He quitted us, taking the same precaution that his master had done. Our finances were ebbing fast, and we began to fear the dinner which was preparing for us would not help to relieve them. I have already observed that we had fivepence halfpennyper diemallowed us; but we were very frequently cheated even of that miserable pittance, and had we not each procured a little cash at Morlaix on our private bills, we should certainly have perished of want. The table was now prepared with a cloth, a rare decency in a common gaol, and in a short time dinner appeared, with two bottles of wine. It consisted of a little fresh fish and a small joint of boiled mutton. The dishes were cleared in a short time, without the smallest hope of a second course. We were anxious to ascertain what the generous good dame could or would demand for thissumptuousrepast, and inquired of our active waiter, who went to his mistress; and forthwith she very kindly replied, “not to make ourselves uneasy, it would be time enough the next day.” We accordingly waited until the next day; but were determined to have nothing more until we knew what we were in debt.
Our fellow-prisoners were particularly polite and attentive to us, and gave us a hint that we were greatly deceived in our opinion of the landlady; which we easily perceived the next morning when we insisted upon hearing how much we had to pay for what she called dinner and wine. She very coolly informed us, fifteen shillings! We imaginedit might have been about seven. However, it was in vain to attempt to explain; we paid the bill, and were resolved to be more circumspect.
At about eleven o’clock some French naval officers came to inspect our people, and gave some of them pieces of money, with an intention to induce them to enter the French service. This I saw, as it was publicly done in the gaol-yard, and I happened to be looking out of the window at the time. I desired them to be particular in what they were about. One man, a Dane (Hendrick Wilson, a very fine fellow, upwards of six feet high, who had been taken by us and had volunteered into our service), replied, “We will take what money they choose to give us, sir, and that shall be all they will gain by coming here.”
On the morning of the 14th, about eight o’clock, a guard of cuirassiers rode into the yard. The gaoler was very expeditious in giving us notice that they came to conduct us on our march; so the bills were paid, and everything settled to this man’s and his good dame’s satisfaction. We were then conducted down into the yard and joined by the people. The gaoler observed to the French officer and cuirassiers that we weredes bons garçons. This officer appeared to be a very affable, good kind of person, of the true old French school before the character of the inhabitants had been demoralised by the Revolution. He informed us that Mr. Galway, his predecessor, had left him no certificates; but he assured us that with him it should make no difference. All matters being arranged, we commenced our march towards Amiens, where we arrived, after a fatiguing march through the towns of Neufchâtel and Aumâle, on the 16th of March.
Our humane officer was as good as his word. In the small villages between Rouen and Amiens he always took us to an inn and dined with us himself; but in Amiens he could not prevent our being put into the gaol. He, however, came frequently to see us, and remained with us for some time. Understanding that there was an Englishman, a Mr. S. Pratt, who kept an eating-house in this city, we sent to inform him that there were some of his countrymen, prisoners of war in the gaol, who wished to speak to him; but the only answer we received was that he wasbusy. However, he sent Mrs. Pratt, who even shed tears at seeing the distressed condition of her poor, dear countrymen.
This benevolent Christian appeared overpowered by the kindness so natural to her sex, and by a generosity, for the display of which she possessed a peculiar eloquence, she assured us that “if she had it in her power she would give all the seamen shoes and stockings, of which they stood so much in need, and a good dinner—that she would; but, at all events, she would go and instantly get a good dinner for us, poor, dear creatures! for we must be famished.” To this she added a great many similar tender expressions.
She took acordial leaveof each of us, and said that she would not come again until late in the evening, for fear of her visits being noticed; but she assured us that an excellent dinner should be sent as soon as possible to her poor, dear countrymen. In about an hour we received a small roasted leg of mutton, without any vegetables, with two knives and forks, a little salt in a paper, and two bottles of very inferior wine. We expected to have the opportunity in the evening of expressing to the lady inperson our sense of the excellence of the dinner; but she never came near her “dear, dear countrymen!” She took care, however, to send her man with the bill, the charges of which exceeded those of the gaoler’s wife at Rouen!
Departure from Amiens—Arrival at Albert—Our French officers delicacy and liberality—A civic feast at Bapaume—Effects of champagne on French aldermen—A separation from our kind conductor—A new escort—A forced march to Cambray—Pitiable state and severe sufferings of the seamen—Entrance into Cambray—Imprisonment—Landrecies, Avesnes, Hirson—A billet upon the inhabitants—Rocroy—A brutal landlord—The robbery and abuse of prisoners—Givet—Charlemont—A description of the fortifications—An escape of prisoners—A fruitless pursuit—Generosity of the French commandant—Private lodgings—A Jacobin landlady—Exhausted funds—The 4th of June—Honours done to King George the Third’s birthday—Roast beef and plum pudding—French terrors of insurrection—The difference between taking off and only touching hats in saluting men in authority—Good news—A joyful departure in a cart for Verdun.
Departure from Amiens—Arrival at Albert—Our French officers delicacy and liberality—A civic feast at Bapaume—Effects of champagne on French aldermen—A separation from our kind conductor—A new escort—A forced march to Cambray—Pitiable state and severe sufferings of the seamen—Entrance into Cambray—Imprisonment—Landrecies, Avesnes, Hirson—A billet upon the inhabitants—Rocroy—A brutal landlord—The robbery and abuse of prisoners—Givet—Charlemont—A description of the fortifications—An escape of prisoners—A fruitless pursuit—Generosity of the French commandant—Private lodgings—A Jacobin landlady—Exhausted funds—The 4th of June—Honours done to King George the Third’s birthday—Roast beef and plum pudding—French terrors of insurrection—The difference between taking off and only touching hats in saluting men in authority—Good news—A joyful departure in a cart for Verdun.
Atlength the destined hour arrived for our leaving this celebrated city and for pursuing our forced and cheerless marches to the place of our imprisonment. Accordingly, at about eight in the morning of the 17th of March, St. Patrick’s day, a day of great festivity in my native isle, we were puten route, and we arrived at the little town of Albert, in the department of the Somme, at five in the afternoon. Here we were halted for the night. The next morning our kind officer astonished us by a most elegant breakfast, consisting of everything that the small town could supply. We had made it a point never to allowhim to pay any of his personal or table expenses when he conducted us to an inn, and his breakfast was given, I suppose, much to his honour, as a complimentary requital.
From Albert we marched to Bapaume, a small fortified town in the department of Pas de Calais. The inhabitants boast that it has never been taken, even though the Duke of York was so close to it in 1793. The road was excessively dirty and bad. Our men were so exceedingly weak this day, the weather being very severe, and raining so incessantly, that our good officer made some of his cuirassiers take three or four of their prisoners behind on their horses. It was about four in the afternoon when we arrived. The officer took us to a tavern. We, dripping wet, were shown into a spacious apartment, where a large table was laid out, and a number of genteel-looking citizens were sitting round a stove that was fixed in the centre of the room. They did not appear to take the smallest notice of us, nor to make place even for the officer, who was wet to the skin. However, he took the liberty of requesting they would allow him to approach, which they did with seeming reluctance. We now endeavoured to dry ourselves, and get into the best plight we could; having ordered, at the same time, something for dinner, or rather supper, as it was about seven o’clock. We were given to understand that it was the election day for a new mayor, in consequence of which the aldermen and civic officers had ordered a dinner; which being served up, left us in full possession of the stove, a circumstance that pleased us greatly.
Those gentlemen did not, in point of appetite, appear to deviate from their namesakes in a certain great metropolis, although I could not perceive that they had anyturtle soup; champagne appeared to be the only wine they relished. Our supper was placed on a small table near the stove; and those gentlemen, as they became inspired with the generous juice of the grape, condescended to become more familiar with the English prisoners and the officer that had them in charge. They insisted upon our touching glasses, and even on our drinking champagne with them; and in the course of the evening these very people, who, on our arrival, had not vouchsafed to treat us with common civility, or even humanity, became so exceedingly hospitable, cordial, and pressing as to prove an absolute annoyance. They even lavished in their cups a number of encomiums upon the “noble nation” to which we belonged. “What a great pity it is,” they cried, “that Englishmen and Frenchmen are not unanimous! They would then carry everything before them, and conquer the whole world.”
We were now doomed to suffer a sad mortification and misfortune. The friendly officer who had conducted us from Rouen with so much humanity, and, I may say, delicacy, now informed us that he was superseded, and was no longer to be our guard or escort. He even added that he had applied to be allowed to conduct us to our place of final imprisonment, and, to his mortification, had received a refusal. He appeared very much hurt at the disappointment, and left us for the night with much emotion, assuring us that we should not leave the town without bidding each other farewell.
At daylight, on the 19th of March, a sergeant awakened us, with the unwelcome news that he had brought a guard of dragoons to conduct us to Cambray. We were obliged to get up immediately, and to make the best arrangementswe could for our unpleasant journey. Our old officer and friend, as we considered him, made his appearance. He spoke of us with much warmth of good-nature, and recommended us very strongly to the kind consideration of the sergeant. He then took an affectionate farewell of each individual, and literally shed tears at parting from us. Much did we regret his loss. He was tender-hearted and compassionate, and reflected honour on the nation that gave him birth, and even upon Nature herself. Under this excellent man, with the indulgence he bestowed upon us, and with the confidence he reposed in our honour, not one of us would have taken an advantage of even the most favourable opportunity of escape. Each would have felt it a disgrace to the character of our country, and a proof of an individual badness of heart and insensibility to honour.
At half-past eight o’clock we had to commence our march to Cambray. All the elements seemed to combine with every circumstance to make us feel our altered condition. It was a most severe morning, bitterly cold, and the north-east wind blowing fiercely in our teeth. It hailed and rained violently and without intermission. Our poor crew were half-starved, miserably clad, and without shoes or stockings, and some of them even without shirts. They were in rags and tatters. With starved stomachs and broken spirits, they were forced upon this long march to the cheerless bourn of a gaol. Under the new escort of dragoons we pursued our march to Cambray, where we arrived about four in the afternoon, in a truly pitiable state. We were a mass of dirt and filth, exhausted, and without that alone which can make nature endure extreme difficulties—the prospect of ameliorationor relief. The consciousness of the merits of the past we had, but of prospects of the future we were miserably destitute.
In this state we were marched through Cambray, the gaze of the people, who rejoiced to see a procession of English captives. They felt an extraordinary exultation at witnessing prisoners of a country that had been so proud and so triumphant. After passing this ordeal we were lodged in the citadel.
If in the first part of the captivity I and my companions had been degraded and subjected to hardships as private seamen, here I had my retribution, for we were all four now called captains; and, in virtue or honour of our rank, we were,pro tempore, allowed accommodation in the canteen. This was, in fact, an increase of misery, for our poor seamen were put into the dungeons, orsouterrains.
It was only by our strenuous exertions that we could procure for the poor fellows some fresh straw, for which we paid an exorbitant price, for their miserable repose. In this straw they enjoyed what warmth they could, making it into ropes, and twisting it round their exhausted limbs and bodies, after refreshing themselves with a sort of soup which we provided for them, and paid for also dearly. This was what the French calledsoupe grasse, and was made in the following manner:—They fill a large pot, ormarmite, with water. When it begins to boil, they throw one or two handfuls of salt into it, according to the quantity of water, chop up some cabbage or herbs, which they also put in, and, last of all, a ball of hog’s lard, kitchen-stuff, dripping, or any other grease they may have. They then allow it to boil until thematerials are well done. It is afterwards served up in soup-plates or dishes, into which has been previously put bread, cut into very thin slices. The charge is twopence, and sometimes more, for each plateful. I saw our landlady at Seéz, a village near Rouen, after she had cooked us some beef-steaks, put all the gravy into the pan, fill it up with water, and after she had kept the pan boiling for some minutes, pour the whole contents into a large pot of water which she had boiling on the fire, previously prepared with salt and herbs: this she served out as soup to our poor seamen, at a most exorbitant price.
We remained at Cambray until the 21st, when a severe frost, with snow, set in; and we had to march, with the wind and snow and hail at intervals right in our faces, to Landrecies, at a distance of nearly six British leagues. Our people were there put into the gaol, and we were allowed thehonourof stopping at the Palais National tavern. They were very fair here in their demands. At daylight, on the 22nd, we commenced our route to Avesnes, in the Pays-Bas, where we arrived at about four. They put us all indiscriminately into the town gaol. About five the town major came to speak with us, and obtained us permission to go to a certain inn, which he pointed out, and where we were egregiously imposed on. The men were left in the gaol. The 23rd we had another guard of dragoons, under the command of a sergeant, to escort us to our depot. At about three we arrived at a poor little village called Hirson, where, having no gaol, they billeted both ourselves and the seamen upon the inhabitants. I and my companions were quartered at a collar-maker’s house. The poor people were extremely civil, and providedus with tolerably good beds. We paid them for every necessary with which they supplied us.
The next morning (the 24th) we had to take our leave of the collar-maker and his family, and were put upon our march to the village of Maubert Fontaine, which was by far more poor and miserable than even Hirson. Here we were again billeted upon the inhabitants; and quarters in private houses were so preferable to confinement in a gaol that the difference easily reconciled us to the smallness of the town. The people with whom we were placed were very great impostors, and extorted double prices for everything with which they supplied us.
On the next morning (the 25th), however, we parted from these unfeeling knaves, and were put upon our march to Rocroy, in the Ardennes. The distance was short, and we arrived early; and our people were immediately put into the common gaol. My companions and I exerted all the interest and rhetoric that we could muster to be allowed, as officers, to go to an inn; and the request at last was conceded. Here we rested twenty-four hours, and had the misfortune to find our landlord a most consummate scoundrel, who took advantage of every opportunity—or, rather, made opportunities—both to defraud and insult us. The next morning, at our departure, he presented us with an account of a sum-total or gross amount of his demand, without condescending to specify a single item in detail. We expostulated with him upon the nature of his bill and upon its enormous amount, and wished to know how he could possibly make it so great; for, in fact, we had been particularly economical, as our funds were getting very low. The impostor flatly refused any explanation whatever, but peremptorily insisted upon immediate payment,bestowing upon us insulting and provoking epithets, in numbers and of a character that brought conviction to our minds that he had no ordinary talents for this species of assault and battery. We were obliged to submit to all his furious and disgusting abuse; and, what in our situation was still worse, we were compelled to pay the bill, or rather the no bill, for it was an extortion without a bill. To the great disgrace of the French military character, I must repeat that in no instance did the officer in charge of us protect us from these gross impositions, which were rendered more shameful and cruel from our helpless condition.
The demand being satisfied, and the torrent of abuse digested with as little bile as possible, we took our leave of Rocroy; and, turning our backs upon our host, the dragoons put us upon our march on the road to the little village of Fumez, on the Meuse, so famous for its slate quarries, where we arrived early in the day, and were all of us billeted upon the inhabitants, whom we found extremely civil and obliging.
We were now but one stage from Givet, with its citadel of Charlemont, and at eight o’clock the next morning, the 28th of March, we commenced our last day’s journey.
At three in the afternoon we entered Givet, or Charlemont, our place of destination, and thus did we terminate our distressing march from Brest, a distance, by thedétourwe had gone, of nearly 700 miles, performed in thirty-nine days, including resting-days, through inclement weather, bad roads, and under every circumstance calculated to destroy life, or to embitter it whilst it lasted.
Givet is a fortified town in the department of Ardennes and bishopric of Liège, divided by the Meuse. That portion on the south side of the river is called Little Givet.This town is commanded by a very strong fort and citadel (Charlemont), built upon an immense rock: the fortifications were constructed by Vauban. A communication between Great and Little Givet is kept up by means of a pontoon bridge: the centre boats are placed so as to be hauled out occasionally to admit vessels to pass up and down, which frequently happens. The people appeared very much disposed to be friendly with us; but we were kept so very close and strict that it was impossible to form any acquaintance. Every necessary of life is cheap in this town: their beer is tolerably good. Wine is rather dear, as there are very few vineyards in the neighbourhood.
Our prisoners at the commencement were confined in this place; but when they became numerous they were moved down to the horse-barracks, from a dread, I suppose, of their revolting some day and taking possession of citadel, town, and all. Had they once possession of one, the other would be entirely at their mercy and disposal. During our stay at this depot, four of the seamen escaped from their prison, two of whom belonged to our late frigate. On their being missed the following morning, parties ofgendarmeson horseback were despatched by the commandant to search for them in all directions, with strict orders to mutilate, and, in fact,not to bring them back alive; “that it might prove an example” (using his own expression) “to the rest of the prisoners.” However, fortunately for those poor fellows, they escaped their pursuers—at least for that time. They were afterwards taken at Dunkirk as they were about to embark in an open boat. The commandant was also frequently in the habit of riding into the prison-yard, and taking his pistols out of the holsters, examiningthe priming in order to terrify us. This he did generally in the evening, and the prisoners could not refrain from laughing at such foolish conduct.
Upon our arrival here, we found, as prisoners of war, the crews of theMinerveand theShannon, frigates that had been commanded by Captains Jahleel Brenton and Gower, who, with their officers, were at Verdun. There were also in confinement a number of English seamen that had been captured in merchant vessels. We were immediately visited by a Mr. Bradshaw, one of Captain Brenton’s clerks, sent here by him, who was permitted to reside in the town, in order that he might act as that officer’s commissary.[8]Mr. Bradshaw introduced me and my companions to Captain Petervin, of thegendarmerie, who was commandant of the prisoners of war. A Jersey man, named Goree, was employed as interpreter, and he explained to Captain Petervin our rank in the English service; but the captain, though unwilling to put us under close imprisonment, seemed at a loss what to do with us, as we had been sent to him as private seamen. He hesitated, and for a long time remained undecided; but at last he consented that we might go to La Tête de Cerf tavern that night. To La Tête de Cerf we joyfully proceeded with Mr. Bradshaw, after giving Monsieur le Commandant a thousand thanks for his condescension. We found that we had been sent to a very decent tavern, the first in the town, which convinced us that the captain of thegendarmerieentertained a favourable opinion of theEnglishadjutants. We justified his acuteness by ordering a good dinner. Mr. Bradshaw dined with us, and exhilarated our drooping spirits by assurances that the commandant would be induced to permit us to lodge in the town. We ordered an additional bottle of wine on the strength of this good news, and passed the evening as cheerfully as possible under the recollection of past sufferings, and with the dismal prospect of a long imprisonment, apart from the glorious services which our profession was then rendering to our country.
The next day the commandant received us with the politeness for which his countrymen had at one time been so proverbial. We explained through our interpreter the excessive injustice and cruelty of being sent to the seamen’s depot, and treated differently from our brother officers. He sympathised with us in all we said, assuring us that he would send off a despatch to General Wirion at Verdun (who was commander-in-chief over the British prisoners) and state the case to him. At the same time, he advised us to write to our commanding officer, and promised to have our letter forwarded. He desired us to remain quietly at our tavern, and assured us that he would do everything in his power to alleviate our distresses. We gave him our best thanks, took our leave, and returned to the Tête de Cerf.
Upon an overhauling of our finances, we had the mortification to find that we could not remain many days at a tavern, not having a farthing allowed us for our subsistence; the fivepence halfpennyper diemending at the moment we arrived at the depot. Mr. Bradshaw could not render us any pecuniary assistance without Captain Brenton’s permission; consequently our situation wasbecoming every moment worse and worse. As lodgings, we were informed, were excessively cheap in the town, we concluded that we had better apply to the commandant for leave to hire a couple of rooms, with cooking utensils, etc., than continue any longer as we were. However, we dreaded that he might order us into the barracks with the seamen if we began so early to demand favours. We therefore agreed to be extremely economical and to wait a few days longer. Those days being expired, we made the intended application, and with success. He approved of our plan, and gave us a written permission to walk about the town. This he did entirely upon his own responsibility, and assured us that he relied upon our honour not to go without the limits of the town; adding that if we abused this indulgence we would be severely punished. We declared our intentions were not to cause him the smallest trouble or uneasiness, and we were particular in the observance of our promise.
The same day we hired two rooms at Madame de Garde’s, the widow of aci-devantgeneral. She provided us with two beds for us four, cooking utensils, and everything necessary for housekeeping, and at a very moderate price. We acquainted Mons. le Commandant of our success, who congratulated us, but, at the same time, appeared sorry that we lodged with this old lady, observing that she wasune Jacobine, and of theold school. All persons at this time who were known to be attached to the English were reprobated as Jacobins; and I need not say that we liked the old dame the better for this information, though we took care to disguise our feelings and to conceal the fact. Ourménagecommenced the following morning. We took the daily cooking and different duties by rotation; but weresoon able to get rid of these unpleasant services, for we procured permission for an infirm old man named Allen, who had been our captain’s steward, to live with us as our cook and servant. Our dishes were certainly not very varied or exquisite: soup andbouilli, with vegetables, constituted our daily fare; and even this, we apprehended, would soon be beyond our rapidly decreasing finances.
All April and May had dismally passed and no answers to our letters had been received from Verdun. Our rent was in arrear, and our purses at the point of exhaustion. We solicited Mr. Bradshaw to grant us the sailor’s allowance of a pound of meat eachper diem; but even this he could not do without the authority of Captain Brenton. This, however, was received from Verdun by return of post. The pound of meat proved of very material service to the pooradjutants, and they were most thankful to their humane chief, Captain Brenton.
At length arrived the glorious 4th of June, the birthday of our sovereign, George the Third; and for this one day at least were our sufferings forgotten and our sorrows cast to the wind. We were resolved, if possible, to make some demonstration in honour of the day; and at last, low as were our pecuniary circumstances, we did contrive to give a birthday dinner to the commandant and to the paymaster of the depot. From this latter officer, whose name was Payne, we had received many civilities.
The day altogether passed off very agreeably until about sunset, when the time arrived for locking the seamen up in the different wards of the gaol. They now gave three tremendous cheers, which flowed from the heart, in commemoration of the day that gave birth to their gracious sovereign; and, as the last cheer stunned and terrified theastounded Frenchmen, they hauled in the colours of different nations that they had kept all day streaming out of each window, taking care to have the French tri-coloured flag under all, which was never noticed by either commandant or guards. The enthusiastic cheers of nearly a thousand men made a most powerful noise: it was music to our ears as we sat at table, our lodgings being contiguous. The commandant, who was greatly alarmed, imagined that the seamen had revolted and had actually got out of prison: so great was this officer’s hurry that he made but one step from the top of the stairs to the bottom. We had some little trouble in getting him on his legs again, and were greatly rejoiced in finding that he had received no injury from this step, or rather fall—assuring him there was no foundation whatever for his fears. However, he would be convinced in person: he therefore went to the prison, and was rejoiced to find everything perfectly tranquil.
Being returned, he observed that the English weredes braves gens, and he would drink another glass of wine in commemoration of King George’s birthday. The national dish, roast beef with plum pudding, which we had made ourselves, was not forgotten upon this occasion.Monsieurliked the well-done or outside part of the former extremely; but the latter neither of our guests would touch for a long time. At last, by dint of persuasion, they condescended to taste it; and so sudden was the transition made upon them by that taste that we had some pains to secure ourselves a part, though it was a pretty sizable pudding. They exclaimed as they gulped it down, “Sacré bleu, comme il est bon!”—“Ma foi, oui!” repeated each alternately. We felt highly pleased at the sight, and laughed heartily.
At a late hour, or rather, in regard to the morning, an early one,Messieurstook their leave, evidently in great spirits, and we retired to rest.
Since our arrival at this depot, several of the stoutest and apparently most healthy of our men had died of a fever supposed to have been caught in some of the gaols on the road. Our poor servant, Allen, was seized with it, and expired in a few days. With respect to comforts, our prisoners were badly off; but the French medical officers at Givet were certainly humane and attentive.
In the latter part of June, to our surprise and chagrin, the commandant appeared much altered in his manner towards us. We were unable to imagine what could be the cause of so sudden and total a change. Mr. Bradshaw, however, informed us that he had observed to him, “that the English officers” (as he was kind enough to style us) “were excessively proud.”
“I never meet them,” said he, “but I take my hat off, whilst they only lift theirs to me.”
Certain it is, that, with all mankind, a slight or insult, real or imaginary, intended or casual, produces more rancour than an injury. By the accidental hurry or carelessness of using a wafer instead of sealing-wax to a letter, the Prime Minister of England, at a crisis of the country, for a time lost the support of one of the wealthiest and most influential dukes of the political world.
But our commandant’s anger was not soon appeased. He one night sent a guard ofgendarmesto take us from our lodgings to the guard-house, for being in the streets after nine o’clock, when it was scarcely dark at that time of the year, and although we had no regular time prescribed by him to be indoors. In the guard-house we remained, ona cold pavement, all night, at a loss to know of what we had been guilty. Our guards assured us that it was merely the caprice of the commandant. At noon Mr. Bradshaw visited us, but without affording any hopes of release. The commandant had informed him that we were confined for not answering a sentinel on his post who had hailed or challenged us. This we positively denied, as we had not passed a single sentinel that night. Monsieur Brasseur, the second in command, then came to visit us, and expressed great sorrow at seeing us thus confined without any cause. He waited on the commandant, became responsible for our conduct, and had us removed to our lodgings, where we were commanded to confine ourselves until “further orders.”
Our excellent landlady received us with the greatest joy imaginable, bathed us with her tears, and had refreshments ready for us, though she had sent us a very good breakfast to the guard-house, and was herself very poor. In three days we were once more liberated; but henceforth we were always confined whenever a religious procession or public ceremony took place, and which at this particular time was very frequent. Our chief amusement was a game at billiards, and a walk round the ramparts, or rather ruins. We frequently met with military officers at the billiard-table, who always behaved with the strictest politeness, and made us an offer of the table the moment we entered the room, which, of course, we declined until they had finished.
From the commandant’s conduct of late, we were constantly under apprehensions of being closely confined with the sailors: he appeared more inveterate against me than any of the rest. However, about the 10th or 12th ofJuly we received a letter from our commanding officer at Verdun, stating that General Wirion had at last sent an order for Mr. Mahoney and myself to be conducted to the Verdun depot. The commandant received the order by the same post. Mr. Bradshaw had also a letter from Captain Brenton, who had kindly and considerately directed him to supply us with cash to enable us to proceed. All this intelligence arriving at the same time, nearly overwhelmed us with joy; but the two other poor fellows that were to remain—the boatswain and gunner—were not only disconsolate at the inequality of their fate, but full of apprehensions that as soon as we had left them the offended commandant would become both more mean and cruel in his severity.
At last, on the 16th of July, we were to leave Givet for Verdun. Mr. Mahoney had a bad foot, and a cart was therefore provided, in which I had the privilege of riding. Everything was at length settled for our departure, and we had previously been permitted to see our ship’s company—a pleasure of which we had been deprived for some weeks. This scene was sadly interesting, and we left the brave fellows with reciprocal good wishes. We took an affectionate farewell of our two shipmates and of our good landlady, and began our route to Verdun, under the escort of twogendarmes.