The flag that braved a thousand yearsThe battle and the breeze.
The flag that braved a thousand yearsThe battle and the breeze.
The flag that braved a thousand yearsThe battle and the breeze.
As our host would not accept of any payment for what we had received, we made a present to the servant who was to guide us, and we took our leave of this good man full of gratitude for his kindness.
We conjectured that we were not more than seven leagues from Étaples, a town on the mouth of the river Canche, with a tolerably good harbour for small vessels. This put us in such good spirits that even Mr. Essel, in spite of his weakness, was determined to go that distance before daylight. We quickened our pace, and proceeded, with light hearts and full of hope.
We passed the strong town of Hesdin at midnight, and as might be supposed, we took care to keep a very respectful distance from it. At daylight on Thursday the17th, to our great mortification, we found that we were at least three leagues from Étaples. We had exerted ourselves right manfully, and had performed our allotted task; but the journey was much longer than we had supposed when we quitted the farmhouse. A bourg, or municipal town, called Nieuville, lay now immediately in our route, without our having any means of avoiding it, on account of the serpentine course of the river. Neither wood nor anything else to shelter us was in view. Our situation was most critical, and we unwillingly came to the conclusion that was obvious—pass through the town we must. Our object was to get through it before any, or at least many, of the inhabitants could be up, and by dint of a quick pace. This we happily accomplished. As soon as possible we struck across the fields; but, to our dismay, no appearance of a wood could be discovered. Even in the fields people were moving in different directions, and it was not much to our comfort that we observed many of them to be military. Surrounded by such numerous difficulties, we resolved to go into a small contiguous village, imagining that even this would be less dangerous than to remain straying and wandering in the open fields. We arrived about eight o’clock at a hut in the village; avoiding the public-house, as there are, in general, police officers, orgendarmes, lurking around such places when in the vicinity of large towns. We asked the inhabitants if they could provide us breakfast. They replied, “Yes, we can give you some milk-soup and bread.” We approved of this repast very much; and, after paying them, we requested they would have the goodness to allow us to repose ourselves for a few hours in some convenient place; but this they refused, hinting that theysuspected that we were deserters from the camp at Boulogne. We assured them, upon our words of honour, they were very much mistaken; that, on the contrary, we were going that way, but were so very much fatigued, and having a sick comrade, we wanted a little rest. After importuning them a long time, and promising a good reward, they allowed us to go into a barn-loft full of straw. We were particularly obliged to them, and perfectly contented with this apartment; but, when nearly settled, and each had got covered over with straw, to our great mortification and annoyance, the owner came, having repented of his granting permission to enter it, and insisted upon our instantly quitting his premises. All our rhetoric with this fellow was in vain. So we were compelled to quit our habitation about eleven o’clock, and walk towards another more respectable village. We inquired of a shepherd, on entering this place, if he could direct us to a public-house; and he pointed out one to us. We proceeded, but with little hopes of escaping from being discovered or arrested. However, we determined to call for a private room the moment we arrived at the cabaret, being in hopes (if we could avoid police officers in passing to a private apartment) we might stand a chance of remaining unnoticed until night. In this we succeeded; and, being supplied with refreshments, we were provided with a suitable apartment immediately. The only person in the house was a girl of about eighteen years of age, who made us a comfortable fire, and shook up two beds, that we might rest a little if we pleased. Seeing that there was no danger, we pretended to be quite at our ease, and coolly asked her where her father and mother were. She replied, “That the former was watching the sheep outsideof the village, and that the latter was gone to Étaples.” We found by her description of her father that he was the very man who had directed us to her. She asked us, “If we were not conscripts going to the camp of Boulogne?” We answered in the affirmative; and begged her not to let anybody enter our room, as we had several things to settle amongst ourselves and wished to be in private. She promised to obey us; but little did her acquiescence bring confidence or comfort, when she added that there was at that moment agendarmein the kitchen in the disguise of a peasant. This was enough to render us tremulous. But even this was not all; for she informed us that thisgendarmehad just come from Boulogne with a party, in order to procure forage for thegendarmes’ horses there. We had evidently got into a hornet’s nest, or almost within the jaws of the lion; but, preserving as much the appearance of tranquillity as possible, we informed her that we had not the least desire to see anybody but her father, with whom we wished to have some conversation. She promised to send for him as soon as her guest in the kitchen had quitted the house. The “soon” was devoutly to be wished; and glad were we when, in a short time, we were told that he had taken his departure. The girl now sent for her father; and her mother also returned. We were in great hopes that, as these people were very poor, we might be able to induce them to procure us a boat, through the medium of some of their friends, the fishermen on the coast, who might not be temptation-proof, or impervious to the influence of a fewlouis d’or. Convinced that nothing much could be accomplished without this all-powerful metal, each of us began to search in the different parts of his garments for his dueproportion. We had been obliged to take the precaution of stitching what gold coin we had in the seams of our clothes, that we might not lose it in the event of our being arrested. To our great sorrow—and, I may add, astonishment—Mr. Essel discovered that his gold coin, to the amount of £45 sterling, had slipped out of a pad which he had contrived for the purpose of concealing it, and which he had always worn round his neck in his neck-handkerchief; nor could he recollect having untied it but once since we set out, and that was at the worthy baker’s cottage, where he suspected he had left it. This baker had appeared to be an honest man, and, as I have already observed, had behaved excessively kindly to us. It was possible that the money might have been left there without our host having seen it until after our departure; but the poor fellow could have no opportunity of restoring the treasure to its right and now embarrassed owner. The loss was to us, at that moment, very distressing, but not irreparable, as we still had a tolerably good sum, and Lieutenant Essel and myself had two gold watches, sufficient, as we trusted, to inspirit the shepherd and induce him to assist us. He at length arrived; when, after taking every feasible means of enjoining secrecy, we disclosed our situation, object, and what we were, and promised to reward him very liberally, provided he could procure us a conveyance across the Channel. We were certain, we observed, that he must have a number of seafaring acquaintances on the coast, and we would make it well worth their trouble to assist us. He hesitated very much at first; but, having shown him a purse, and repeating our promises of reward, he assured us he would try every possible means, and he declared that, at all events, we wereperfectly safe under his roof, and that he would proceed to see what he could accomplish. We were greatly elated, and were almost certain of succeeding, from his not raising any obstacles. Our anxiety for this fellow’s return is not to be described: every individual that passed appeared to be somebody he had sent, or was about to bring, to agree with us for our passage. The much-wished-for moment, as we thought, at length arrived, when the old shepherd, with a demure countenance, opened our door, and, having closed it again with the utmost caution, began to inform us, “That all his search to procure a boat had been ineffectual; that the fishermen along the coast were constrained to bring their boats to Étaples and lay them up there, whence they dared not move without a passport from the commandant of the town, as well as a soldier as a guard in each boat, to prevent their having communication with the English cruisers or going without the limits. They were also under the necessity of going out and returning only in the daytime.” To our vexation and grief, the fellow added, “that we could not remain in his house any longer than the dusk of the evening, as he was obliged to return an account to the mayor of the village of every stranger that might be with him after dark, taking his passport at the same time for the mayor’s inspection;” and the fellow concluded all this anything but comfortable information and kindness by lifting up his hat, scratching his head, and saying, “I hope, gentlemen, you will reward me for my pains and for keeping counsel.” We were absolutely confounded. We stood amazed—staring at each other; and for some time were unable to utter a word. At length I broke silence, and observed, “That it was the fault of hisbetter half, whoappeared to us, from the instant we had seen her, to be a bitter, malignant creature. She, no doubt, had been consulted;” and her sour looks and conduct upon every occasion convinced us all that this opinion was well founded.
Having nothing to expect from this unfeeling and unprincipled couple, we paid them liberally for all we had had, and for all they had done, or pretended to have done; and as soon as it was dark we left their, to us, not agreeable abode. The point of departure had been a subject of altercation; for, as soon as they had received our money, they insisted upon turning us out; whilst we, for our own purposes, as resolutely maintained our right to remain until it was dark. Both of the inhospitable pair had repeatedly threatened to call in the mayor, in order to arrest us, if we remained a moment longer; but this could scarcely have been worse than running the risk of being seen in the daytime. However, darkness at length shrouded the earth, and we left this unpropitious roof with no very merciful, or, we fear, Christian feelings, towards those that drove us out.
When in the open air, we were utterly perplexed as to how we should act and as to what course we should steer. We began to imagine that what we had been told respecting the boats might be partly true. Sometimes we supposed that it would be better to proceed towards Rotterdam; at others we thought of recrossing the Canche and directing our wearisome course towards St. Valery; at others we imagined it would be better to repair to any port where we might be likely to find an American or other neutral vessel, in which we might escape; but at last we agreed unanimously to cross the river, as at allevents the safest plan for that night, and afterwards to proceed to some villages that might be close down on the sea-coast. We were thus consulting, or had just come to this conclusion, when the shepherd’s daughter made her appearance, and gently told us, “That her father had sent her to show us a house where we were sure of finding a person that would be of service to us, and who would put us across the river; which was,” she added, “by far the safest side.” We thanked the girl, who appeared the whole evening very much affected at the conduct of her parents; and she returned, begging us not to mention who had directed us—which, of course, we promised, and we kept our word. One of us was now deputed to reconnoitre. It was about ten o’clock; the house was on the side of the road, and a number of soldiers were passing on their route to the camp: this circumstance retarded our project, as we were obliged to keep within a hedge until the military had passed, and by this time it was full eleven o’clock. Then Mr. Tuthill (the deputed person) advanced; and soon returned and informed us that he had seen a man who had given him some hopes, and that he would rejoin us shortly. This was most welcome news. The person made his appearance, and told us he would direct us to a friend’s house on the other side, who would, he believed, do what we wished. Heavens! what joyful intelligence! “His boat,” he said, “would put us across as soon as she should be afloat; the tide of flood was then making, and he would return again to where we were in an hour, by which time he supposed the boat would be ready.” This put us in the highest spirits. An hour ago we were in the depths of despair; our feelings of joy were now heightened by contrast. With the vividness oflightning flashed across my mind all our past sufferings; and, from the number of dangers which we had almost miraculously escaped, it struck me that we were special favourites of Fortune, and that we were about to reap the glorious object of all our wishes. Habit, however, had taught us distrust and caution; and we shifted our situation, lest this stranger might turn out to be a false friend, or a scoundrel sent to deceive us, and we placed ourselves where we could easily discover whether he had any auxiliaries with him when he came back. At the appointed time he came to where he expected to find us, by himself, which convinced us that his intentions were more honest than we had supposed. In a few minutes we were carried to the opposite side, where he secured his boat, and guided us to the house above-mentioned, assuring us that they were people we could depend upon, and who had many friends, fishermen, on the water-side. He would not enter the cottage, or hut, but quitted us at the threshold, having received a sufficient recompense for the trouble we had given. We knocked repeatedly at the door. It began to rain very heavily; nor could we gain admittance until we had given many assurances that we were particular friends who only wished to be sheltered a few minutes from the inclemency of the night. These protestations at length gained us permission to enter.
A false direction and an appalling repulse—A bribe refused—A deluge, and shelter in a barn—A fatal resolution—Dangers of fugitives journeying by daylight—A market-day at Étaples—Passing through crowds not very convenient for runaway prisoners of war—An attempt to reach the sand-hills on the coast—A bold progress through a despicable village—The last house—Parching thirst, and begging for a draught of water—An acquiescence, or reply, in the shape of two custom-house officers—Our capture—A clever fiction well devised, better sustained, and totally defeated—Getting rid of suspicious goods—An examination before the mayor—Americanism and the American gentleman—An awkward exposure—Amittimusto Boulogne gaol—An examination of our persons and clothes—Our fate sealed, and hope destroyed.
A false direction and an appalling repulse—A bribe refused—A deluge, and shelter in a barn—A fatal resolution—Dangers of fugitives journeying by daylight—A market-day at Étaples—Passing through crowds not very convenient for runaway prisoners of war—An attempt to reach the sand-hills on the coast—A bold progress through a despicable village—The last house—Parching thirst, and begging for a draught of water—An acquiescence, or reply, in the shape of two custom-house officers—Our capture—A clever fiction well devised, better sustained, and totally defeated—Getting rid of suspicious goods—An examination before the mayor—Americanism and the American gentleman—An awkward exposure—Amittimusto Boulogne gaol—An examination of our persons and clothes—Our fate sealed, and hope destroyed.
Boththe man and woman of the house stared at us with great amazement; and, finding that we were utter strangers, they begged to know what we wanted, and why we had disturbed them so unseasonably. This reception was rather portentous and appalling; but humility becomes the unfortunate, and we humbly begged that they would make themselves quite easy, for we were absolutely come as friends in great distress, to solicit protection and assistance. This appeased them; and we proceeded to state that we were Frenchmen, who wished to be conveyed as quickly as possible into some part of Normandy or Brittany. We made them very liberal offers; but, to our dismay, they were thoroughly “temptation-proof.” Toall our bribery their hearts and minds were as cold as asbestos. The woman at last observed, “that it was true that she had a brother who was a fisherman on the sea-coast,” and our eyes glistened at what we thought was the beginning of good news; but then came the sad addenda, that his boat had been taken round to Étaples, and that when he wished to fish he was obliged to embark under the surveillance and regulations which had been described to us by the shepherd. Alas! alas! we began to fear that the shepherd was not the egregious liar we had taken him for. The woman’s story was confirmed by the husband; and both assured us that, upon our knocking at their door, they had suspected us to begendarmesin disguise. These fellows, it appeared, were frequently in the habit of practising such tricks upon their countrymen. The good old couple, however, soon insisted upon our quitting their house, and in a manner which proved that they were not accustomed to make use of much ceremony. In vain did we point out to them our miserable plight, and expatiate upon the extreme badness of the weather. We talked of the excessive darkness of the night, the torrents of rain that were pouring as if heaven and earth were coming in contact, and we entreated them to allow us to shelter ourselves in any barn, cow-house, or even pig-sty; but we might as well have appealed to an Egyptian mummy. In proportion as we were mendicant they became peremptory, and even fierce; and at last we were obliged to depart in what seemed little less than a deluge. As soon as they saw that they had got us over the threshold, some few and faint feelings of commiseration seemed to touch their obdurate breasts, and they had the charity to point out to us a direction which led to a barn, whichthey assured us was full of hay, and seldom visited, so that we could very safely remain concealed in it until the following night. They further advised us to proceed either to Dieppe or St. Valery, as the two ports at which it was most probable that we should succeed in procuring a boat.
We shortly discovered the barn, and had the good fortune to arrive at it a little before daylight. We found it full of hay, as they had stated; a most timely relief for us, being quite drenched with the incessant rain, and all over mud and dirt. Each soon found, or made, a convenient hole for himself through the hay, taking the precaution to work a good way down and to cover himself well over, lest our steps into this place should lead to a suspicion and we might be found out. We fell into a most profound sleep; nor did I awake until nine o’clock in the morning (Friday, 18th Sept.), when I heard my name called repeatedly by Mr. Tuthill. He proposed that we should quit that place immediately, and get down to the sea-side, as the day was the only time to succeed in procuring a boat, from the method they had taken of securing all vessels at night. I used the most forcible arguments I was master of to dissuade them from so rash a proceeding; and pointed out the caution we had observed in the inland parts of the country as the only thing that had ensured our success in arriving where we then were; although there had been much less danger in the interior than on the sea-coast, where there would be, of course, a strict look-out kept by custom-house officers,gardes de côte, etc. I suggested, as the better plan, to wait until night: we could, in the event of not succeeding, always make this our rendezvous, and could return to it before daylight,procuring subsistence at some lonely cottage during the night. All my rhetoric was in vain: they appeared determined to try their fortune by daylight. I then requested, at any rate, that they would wait until noon,—the usual time for the country people to dine,—as we might with the more ease get away unnoticed. This was at last agreed to; so we remained buried in the hay until the hour of noon, when, unperceived by anybody, we crept out, and, getting upon the highway, proceeded in the direction we had intended to take. We put a bold front upon disastrous affairs, and, with apparent intrepidity, we marched on. Unluckily, it was market-day at Étaples, and the road was crowded with people going to and returning from the ferry-boat. Our only plan was to walk directly through them, on the principle that no man whose object was flight and escape would walk amid crowds of enemies in open day. This was the only course that we could adopt; and, though all our calculations proved to be miserably erroneous, and our hopes fallacious, still I had nothing with which I had to reproach myself.
We kept advancing towards the sand-hills with all the appearance of carelessness and confidence, but with a quick, and, as far as we could assume appearances, a bold and firm step; and we arrived at last at a poor, sorry village, through which we had to pass. We had actually got to the very last house, when our poor friend Ashworth felt extremely exhausted, and expressed that his parching thirst obliged him to ask for a draught of water. On all such occasions every one of the party was consulted, and the majority of votes constituted the ultimatum, or decision; and whether a long train of success, or a long succession of narrow escapes, had made us vainly confident,I cannot say, but not one of us saw the slightest danger in Ashworth’s entering this house. It was impossible to suppose that so wretched a village could contain either troops orgendarmes; and as we had passed through the place without attracting any notice whatever, we did not imagine that there could be any danger in entering the last house at its extremity. The glorious sea, with all its inspirations, was before us, and we laughed at what we had undergone, for our hearts were light, and our minds were full of the glad prospects of our attaining to all our wishes.
Ashworth entered the house, and we advanced slowly, lagging and loitering for him to rejoin us. His absence appeared very long—unnecessarily so. Suspense and impatience gave way to suspicion, and suspicion was succeeded by alarm. I shall never forget my conflicting emotions—they grew stronger and stronger every moment. At length, Mr. Tuthill broke silence, and expressed a wish to go and ascertain what had detained our companion. Essel and myself remained on the side of the road, anxiously looking out. They very soon appeared; and, to our inexpressible grief and mortification, were conducted by two armed men in a uniform entirely foreign to us. These soon proved to bedouaniers, or custom-house officers, with which, at that period, the coast of France abounded; but none of them had ever fallen under our observation or cognisance. I clearly perceived that these fellows had taken both our companions into custody, from the manner in which they approached. When they had joined us, Mr. Ashworth introduced me to them as Captain Cox, of the shipFavourite, of New York—the story fixed upon in case of being stopped. We had been cast away nearMarseilles, and all hands had perished, except Florence Heath (Mr. Ashworth), mate; William Dixon (Mr. Tuthill), supercargo; and Mr. Essel (whose new name I now forget), passenger. We were bound to Barcelona. Cargo—slaves and cotton. Only the supercargo and mate could speak French. They appeared to commiserate our situation, and had not the least doubt but that what we alleged was true. “But they must take us,” they said, “to the mayor of the town, who would, no doubt, grant us passports to proceed to some seaport, whence we could take shipping for America, or any other place we pleased.” We expressed our warmest thanks for this mark of their attention; but (if they pleased) we added, “That we did not wish to put them to the inconvenience of going out of their way on our account.” They replied, “That it was entirely in their way; and it was impossible we could proceed along the coast without papers: they were only astonished how we had crossed the kingdom of France (or, more properly speaking, the empire) without being arrested. We had been much to blame in not having procured passports prior to our quitting Marseilles.” We assured them we were ignorant of its being in the smallest degree necessary, that we were born in a country where nothing of the kind was required, and where it would be deemed a very great insult to ask any person where he came from or whither he was going. We, of course, alluded to public functionaries; for we well recollected the proverbial character of the Americans for inquisitiveness, and Dr. Franklin’s story of his putting up a printed board over his apartment, whenever he arrived in an American town, so full of all particulars relating to himself as to render it impossible, as he thought, for evenAmerican curiosity to intrude upon his privacy with a question.
We of course regretted that we had not been more enlightened upon the laws and customs of “ce pays ci,” and at length we arrived at the ferry-boat, and in a few minutes found ourselves in the town of Étaples, under different circumstances and in a different company from what he had desired or expected. We still entertained hopes of escape; but, unfortunately, each of us had about his person many things most inconvenient to be inspected by Frenchdouaniers, and most unlikely to corroborate our fiction of our being shipwrecked Americans. My brains were set to work to “get to windward” of this quicksand, and I whispered to my “mate” to intimate to his unwelcome or awkward friends, that I was fatigued, and that I wished to take some little refreshment at any convenient inn before I had the honour of appearing before the mayor. Our civil conductors consented that the fatigued gentleman should take what refreshment he stood in need of, and of which, I need scarcely say, they intended to be participators. We arrived at a cabaret, were allowed to enter, were conducted into a good room, and, as if I were the most easy and indifferent gentleman that ever proceeded from America, I called authoritatively for a supply of bread and wine. During this repast we alternately had an excuse for retiring: I need not say that we took care to get rid of almost every article that might prove that our fiction had not the saving grace of probability.
We at last made the best of a very bad or unpromising case; and, putting on the appearance of unconcern and mirth, we followed our conductors. They told us that theywere under the necessity of waiting upon their captain previously to going before the mayor. He received me and my companions with politeness, and all things seemed to indicate that the interview might pass off without danger, until he politely told me that he must send for the mayor to be present at our examination. This changed the whole complexion of the case; and I am sure the effect must have been visible in most of our countenances. At length, “His Worship” arrived, not at all to our comfort; but what rendered his presence more annoying was his bringing with him “an American gentleman.” It is said that the society of a gentleman is always desirable; but the ghosts did not strike more terror into “the soul of Richard” than the reality of this American gentleman’s appearance struck terror into ours. The mayor and the American gentleman engaged us, “yard-arm and yard-arm.” Their cross-examination was worse than a raking fire. We had only to repeat our former story. At last our unlucky genius, the American gentleman, plainly stated to us that they suspected us to be Englishmen—which we had no means of disproving. The mayor added that we were to be committed to the prison of Boulogne until the authorities heard from the American consul at Paris, or until they were thoroughly convinced of the veracity of our statement. These were disastrous “untils”; and it struck me that if they waited for the alternative of them, we might remain in gaol to eternity.
The result was, what less sanguine and less interested men might have anticipated—we were to be ordered to a dungeon, under an escort ofgendarmerie. The brigadier, who seemed to have all the hundred eyes of Argus condensed into two, asked if we had been searched. The answerwas in the negative. “Search them instantly,” cried he; “and,” he added, “depend upon it they are Englishmen, who have escaped from one of the depots.” The fellows were obedient to command, and we were immediately put under as severe a scrutiny as ever man was subjected to. I was the first person to be rummaged. My pocket-book was opened, and in it were several English letters, with other papers equally calculated to disprove the veracity of my being an American captain shipwrecked at Marseilles. My resource was to say that my pocket-book belonged to a cousin who had perished with the wreck. On the others were found maps of the departments that we had gone through, with several other papers, which identified us to be what they suspected.
However, we still persisted in being Americans. They remonstrated on the folly of such an imposition, and ordered us into a dungeon, assuring us that we should be now very roughly treated, and considered as dangerous people; whereas a frank confession might cause some mitigation. After a little deliberation we clearly perceived the inutility of holding out; so we at once acknowledged who and what we were. The brigadier assured us that he had been confident from the moment he first saw us that we were English, and he would now do everything in his power to comfort us under our present embarrassments, but he had no superior officer of his corps nearer than Boulogne, where he should send us the next day; and for that night he would allow us to go to an inn to get ourselves a little in order, but with a strong escort; and we should be obliged to provide that escort with every necessary, and to pay the men six livres (five shillings) each for the night. This we readily agreed to. Oncemore we were prisoners: our state of mind was truly miserable.
At the inn we bought a new shirt and pair of stockings each, and got our old ones, which were in a sad condition, washed and mended. They supplied us with tolerably good beds, of which we were extremely anxious to take possession. After supper we were in the act of going to bed, when an order came, from the commanding officer of a camp adjacent, to conduct us to his tent—which was quickly put into execution. He appeared, in manners, the reverse of the general character of the French. He perused all my letters, which were of no consequence to any one existing except myself,—and which were never returned to me,—and declared he was certain we had emissaries on the coast, otherwise we could never have attempted so perilous a journey. This was, at least, a compliment to our daring enterprise; and when we assured him that we had had no connection whatever with the people on the coast, he replied with a “Bah!” and concluded with an “Ah! the fishermen on our coast, unfortunately, are too much attached to the English.”
Our conversation terminated, and we were taken back to our inn. Distressed as we were, we immediately retired to rest our wearied limbs. Nature was exhausted; and we sank into nature’s balm—“sweet sleep,”—too afflicted and worn out to reflect, or to care for the reflection that the dawn would see us in progress to gaol.
Our entrance into the gaol of Boulogne—Tantalising sight of Old England’s flag and white cliffs—A gaoler’s supper and a conscientious bill—Another examination—The route to Verdun—Arras—The gaoler kind, and the commandant full of indulgence—Bapaume—The baker, and inquiries for our lost money—Cambray—Cateau-Cambresis and its horrible dungeon—Landrecies—Our awkwardness in chains, handcuffs, and fetters—My dislike to them—Avesnes—Information that we were to be shot—The dungeon of Avesnes—A dungeon companion who had killed and cut up both his parents—A night of horrors and lunacy—Hirson, a town without a gaol, but with a dungeon—A supper and its consequences—The discovery of our implements of escape—Maubert Fontaine—A new dungeon and a fellow-prisoner—Reciprocal services—A novel mode of hiding pistol-barrels—Chaining prisoners to a cart—Mezières—Arrival at Verdun—Separated from my companions—Reflections on being shot—A close examination—Questioned in relation to Buonaparte—Allowed to join my old associates—Another cross-examination—A recommittal to prison—Our fate determined—The dungeon of Bitche—The Rev. Lancelot C. Lee, adétenu—His generosity.
Our entrance into the gaol of Boulogne—Tantalising sight of Old England’s flag and white cliffs—A gaoler’s supper and a conscientious bill—Another examination—The route to Verdun—Arras—The gaoler kind, and the commandant full of indulgence—Bapaume—The baker, and inquiries for our lost money—Cambray—Cateau-Cambresis and its horrible dungeon—Landrecies—Our awkwardness in chains, handcuffs, and fetters—My dislike to them—Avesnes—Information that we were to be shot—The dungeon of Avesnes—A dungeon companion who had killed and cut up both his parents—A night of horrors and lunacy—Hirson, a town without a gaol, but with a dungeon—A supper and its consequences—The discovery of our implements of escape—Maubert Fontaine—A new dungeon and a fellow-prisoner—Reciprocal services—A novel mode of hiding pistol-barrels—Chaining prisoners to a cart—Mezières—Arrival at Verdun—Separated from my companions—Reflections on being shot—A close examination—Questioned in relation to Buonaparte—Allowed to join my old associates—Another cross-examination—A recommittal to prison—Our fate determined—The dungeon of Bitche—The Rev. Lancelot C. Lee, adétenu—His generosity.
Thenext morning, the 19th Sept. 1807, at eight o’clock, ourgendarmeescort entered the inn, and, soon placing us in a cart, conducted us to Boulogne. We arrived at about two in the afternoon, and were unceremoniously handed over to a regular gaoler, a Mons. Verjuis, who gave us in custody to one of his most expert turnkeys. The fellow showed us into our apartment. Shortly after,two small sheaves of straw were sent us as substitutes for beds, and a bucket of water accompanied them, as our sole refreshment. Tuthill, astonished at this supply, asked me seriously what it could mean? I replied, that it was evidently to be our food, and that they thought straw for Englishmen a good substitute for bread!! However, complaint would only have subjected us to ridicule or insult, and without a murmur we drank our water and reposed upon our straw. We had passed many days when the straw would have been a luxury to us, and many nights and days when we would have given a stream of gold for the draught of water.
This day’s excursion had afforded us a view of that formidable flotilla which had so frequently threatened to hurl destruction upon our little island; but with what different emotions did we catch the view of the white cliffs of Dover, and behold an English frigate and lugger blockading the French port. The sight of our country, and of the triumphant flag of our glorious profession—the navy of England,—filled us with desires that were not to be realised, and with hopes in which it was tantalising and vain to indulge. I was a little relieved by a feeling of contempt at the dismantled and decaying flotilla, and by reflecting that had France had the folly to build a thousand times as many flat-bottomed boats as I then beheld, she never could have made any impression on our happy country.
However, neither sentiment nor reflection can be a substitute for food, and the keenness of our appetites soon taught us the absolute necessity of becoming acquainted with ourgood host. We began to supplicate for relief through the iron bars; and our experience of theFrench character had taught us the good policy of accompanying each supplication with an assurance that we would pay liberally for whatever we might be supplied with. At length, this man of iron bars and gratings thought proper to pay us a visit. He promised to afford us relief, and we soon got supplied tolerably well with food, and had two mattresses brought us—we still keeping our promise to pay whatever was required. It appeared that this fellow was a great acquisition to Buonaparte’s government: he had been originally a convict sentenced to perpetual imprisonment in chains; he therefore resided in a gaol, and wore small silver chains round his wrists and ankles, and thus literally conformed to his sentence, whilst he was placed in a situation under government.
On Monday the 21st we were conducted to the captain ofgendarmesto undergo another examination; and he behaved very like a gentleman. We were interrogated separately. He said that our attempt to gain our liberty was very laudable, and that he felt for our misfortunes. Our march back was to commence the next morning. He exhorted us to have fortitude and patience, and dwelt very much on the cruelty of not having an exchange of prisoners between the two countries. We returned him many thanks for his goodness, and were escorted back to our prison, where we made every necessary arrangement within our power for the next day. This was a task neither difficult nor long, for our luggage or apparel was not calculated to cause us much embarrassment.
On Tuesday, 22nd Sept., we were called betimes by the guard, and in a few minutes were once moreen route. The day was excessively wet and the roads heavy, which prevented the guards from chaining us, more especially as we had avery long march to Montreuil, which was twelve or thirteen leagues distant. About five in the afternoon we were placed in the common gaol of Montreuil, which we found a tolerably comfortable prison; but the gaoler and his wife imposed upon us in a shameful manner.
Our route was now through Hesdin and St. Pol, to Arras. The gaoler here behaved with kindness and civility to us, and (with the exception of one) was the most humane man in that situation I ever knew. And in dire necessity of his humanity were we all at this moment; but more especially myself, for so completely knocked up was I from excessive fatigue and exhaustion, by the length of this day’s journey in chains, that I found my head quite dizzy, and had actually swooned and fallen against the prison walls before the gaoler could conduct me to my cell.
The commandant was also extremely civil, and allowed us, at our own request, a chaise, with an escort of twogendarmes(whose names were Potdevin and Pasdevie), to Cambray. Having passed through Bapaume, we called at our old friend the baker’s, where Mr. Essel supposed he had lost his money. He and his children were severally examined; but we could not discover the smallest trace that might lead us to suppose he had taken it: and I must confess I believed the baker to be innocent. At Cambray we dismissed, or, rather, the Arras escort quitted us; and we were conducted to Cateau-Cambresis, where we were put into a most horrible dungeon under ground, nor could anything in our power have any effect on the flint-hearted keeper of it. We fortunately remained but twenty-four hours at this place; thence we were conducted to Landrecies, where we were permitted to stop and geta breakfast. Our landlady here shed tears at seeing us handcuffed in so cruel a manner; yet, in spite of all remonstrances and entreaties, and notwithstanding the obvious inutility of this caution or harshness, our guards would not unshackle a single wrist during the whole time, and the people of the house were literally obliged to feed us.
At about five o’clock on the 29th, we arrived at Avesnes, and were very rudely thrust into the gaol, and placed amongst the worst and lowest class of criminals that it contained. This, we were informed, was by the special order of General Wirion, who, it appeared, had sent an express to all stages on our route, desiring that we should be treated as severely and as indignantly as possible. Our guard seemed to be by no means lax in discipline, for they fulfilled their instructions both to their spirit and letter. A report, moreover, was current at this place, that we were English spies, about to be shot for having been hired to inspect the naval armaments along the French coast. This idea certainly did not procure us the sympathies of the populace, nor did it seem to soften the tempers of our conductors; and all assurances to the contrary on our part were rendered abortive by the fact of our being so heavily manacled, shackled, and loaded with chains. The conclusions from these symbols of guilt were that if we were not spies we were something even worse. What were our disgust and horror when we found that we were thrust into a horrible dungeon with a wretch that was condemned to perpetual imprisonment for having murdered and mutilated both his father and mother! I shuddered every time I beheld this monster, and could not bear his gaze upon me. I was told that the wretch hadcut both of his parents into quarters, and had buried them in a pit. Never shall I forget the joy we all felt when at daybreak we were taken from this horrible society. I expressed my astonishment that crimes so heinous should not receive the punishment of death; and then it was, and not till then, that the solution was made clear to me—the unhappy man, upon his trial, had been declared a lunatic. I reflected that, as a lunatic, he ought not to be subject to so cruel a confinement. From all I had seen of French gaols, I entertained a very low idea of the prison discipline, economy, and management of France; but the horrors of that night can never be effaced from my mind.
It was about five o’clock, on the 30th of September, that we were halted at the town of Hirson. The town is without a gaol, but it possessed a little damp, subterranean cell, or dungeon, just capable of containing the four of us. We were thrust into thiscachot, or dungeon, and, a little straw being contemptuously thrown upon us, the heavy door was closed, and we were left to the choice of meditation or slumber. We preferred the latter, but vexation made us irritable; when luckily a brigadier of thegendarmerie—who, with twogendarmes, constituted the police of the village—showed his face at the little hole in the door of the dungeon, and informed us that the gaoler’s wife would procure us some sort of refreshment, provided we would pay her, and pay her in advance. This we not only agreed to immediately, but we found our hearts bounding at the intelligence, and we most humbly and gratefully thanked this brigadier for his excessive goodness and condescension. We were soon informed that there was a kind of repast prepared for us, and that we should have permission to go out into the gaoler’s house duringthe few minutes necessary to refresh ourselves. This intelligence threw us into great confusion, as we had been unaccustomed to such an indulgence, and, in consequence, had neglected to conceal in some secret hole a number of small articles, such as files and gimlets, which we fortunately had hitherto kept in our possession. The moment they were about to open our door, one preferred keeping what tools he had about him, another slipped his in amongst the straw, and in this perplexed state the dungeon was opened and we were ordered out. At this instant I flung from me, over a high garden wall, two small files which I had concealed in my hand when the dungeon door was opened. I protest I thought the things left in the straw were best secured, as the place was excessively dark. We were now seated at table with some soup andbouilli, in great consternation, surrounded by thegendarmesand gaoler. In a few minutes the latter procured a candle and lanthorn, and informed the brigadier he was ready to attend him. He accordingly rose, and they proceeded to the miserable abode we had just quitted. An opinion of our feelings at that moment can only be formed by those unfortunate people who have experienced similar sufferings and anxiety. I can only say that our relish for the soup was not very great; we were well assured that everything left in the straw would inevitably be discovered, which most certainly would lead to a general search of our persons. The brigadier’s generosity was now sufficiently accounted for: he and his companion returned; and, as we expected, they had found every single tool, together with the stock of a double-barrelled pistol—of which I had given charge to Essel, keeping the barrels in my own possession, and another of the same description, with itsbarrels also. They made very diligent search for the barrels of Essel’s pistol-stock, but without effect. We assured them that we threw the barrels away prior to our quitting Verdun; and that we had taken the stock and lock to use occasionally instead of a tinder-box, which we had no possibility of providing. They began to search us now separately: a few things were found upon my comrades; but, fortunately for me, they did not discover upon my person my pistol, which was more complete than that which they had found, nor the barrels belonging to Essel’s pistol-stock, nor, in fact, anything whatever. Poor Ashworth was less fortunate, for out of the seams of his greatcoat they took two files. They next cut open every covered button, thinking one or all of them might contain some coin; but in this, I have no doubt, they were most mortified and chagrined to be mistaken. The brigadier could hardly convince himself that my walking-stick, which I purchased after leaving Boulogne, did not conceal a sword or dagger. He kept twisting it about and tugging at it, all in vain, and yet so suspicious was he that he chose to keep it for the night. We were reconducted to our den in a state of feeling which can scarcely be conceived. In a few minutes we endeavoured to take what repose we could.
Awaking about midnight, I began to deliberate upon the consequence of having so dangerous a “tinder-box” about me, with all its necessary materials,i.e.ammunition; and, having found what I thought was a convenient place—a hole in the dungeon wall—I deposited the barrels of Essel’s pistol therein, keeping about me still my own complete. The night went off without further disturbance.
At daylight we were again puten route—chained, handcuffed, and closely, even maliciously, watched. The day was very rainy, the roads very bad and heavy; our march was long and fatiguing; and I cannot say that our minds were in the best possible state to cheer us through our sufferings.
It was on the 1st of October, about six in the evening, that we arrived at Maubert Fontaine. Never were poor prisoners in a more miserable plight. We were saturated with rain, and covered with mud. We found that a new dungeon had been built in this village, and into it we were rudely thrust. What the old dungeon might have been, I do not know, but ourdomicileproved to me that the French could not have made much progress in the art of constructing dungeons. It was a wretched place. A boy, of about ten years old, had been confined in it for six or seven days; he belonged to the neighbouring town of Lille, and was imprisoned for having strolled from home without a passport. The poor little fellow informed us that his food had been nothing but black bread and water; and he stated, not much to my satisfaction, that our arrival had been expected for two or three days, and that we were to be searched most strictly. This boy was of the greatest service to me, and, with his assistance, I contrived to conceal my double-barrelled pistol, or, as I termed it, my tinder-box. I unscrewed the barrels, and, thrusting them into the fingers of my gloves, I kept the glove on, with the fingers bent towards the wrist, so that the pistol-barrels were mistaken for my fingers straight out. The boy helped me to conceal the stock, just as the guard entered to search us. We had nothing else about us now, except our money, which had hitherto been respected, anda small gold watch which I wore, and which they fortunately did not discover. I purchased this watch at Verdun, and wear it even to the present day. We were searched with great strictness and severity; and such were the feelings against us that the guard deprived us of all our money, and, upon our remonstrating, they replied that they would pay out of it all our expenses to Verdun, and account for the balance to General Wirion, at that depot. The reader may easily imagine with what sort of good faith the account was kept, and the amount that remained to be paid to the General. However, this night the guard provided for us, out of our money, what they called a supper; and they procured for us some straw and blankets, which were our only beds. The poor French boy felt himself perfectly happy in having, as he termed it, “something good” to eat. We gave the poor little fellow an ample share of everything that was brought to us; and if he felt the luxury of the unexpected repast, we likewise felt “the greater luxury of doing good.” The guards gaped and stared at the unusual scene; and, after muttering theirparbleusandsacrés, they shrugged up their shoulders and expressed their astonishment at our generosity. I only wished that generosity was contagious, and that our rapacious, stone-hearted temporary keepers might imbibe our feelings.
The guard visited us every hour during the night; notwithstanding which, I contrived to find an opportunity of getting rid of all the materials of my dangerous “tinder-box,” excepting the barrels.
At daybreak, 2nd October, we were handcuffed and chained to a cart, the roads having become too heavy to admit of our proceeding on foot; and here I got rid ofthe barrels, by wrapping a little straw round each and dropping them through the cart in the mud.
In the evening we arrived at Mezières gaol, and were put into the yard, after being strictly searched; nor could we procure even a dungeon until we had agreed to pay a most exorbitant price which the gaoler charged for some refreshments that he had procured for us. He very laconically observed, “I know thegendarmeshave plenty of money which they took from you. You may as well let me have part, as letthemhave all. You will not stand in need of any in a few days;” thus intimating that we were to be shot as spies, which was the general opinion everywhere.
Our treatment was pretty nearly the same throughout all the way to Verdun, where we arrived at the latter end of October. I was then separated from my companions, being considered as thechef du complot, and was thrown into a miserable dungeon, in which was another prisoner, supposed to have been a spy, and who expected to be brought to trial in a few days, and with no great confidence of being tried with a superfluous regard to justice or mercy. The universal impression that we were to be shot, with which our ears had been dinned at every resting-place upon the road, seemed confirmed by the companion with whom they placed me in this dungeon. I was certain that if only one of the party was to suffer death, that victim would be myself—not only because it is the custom in France to infer that the oldest of a party or gang is the ringleader, orchef du complot, but my conscience told me that I had really been the chief instigator to all that we had done. I made my mind up to bear the execution with a fortitude and dignity that should notdisgrace the naval service or national character of my country; I trusted in God that my death would satiate French vengeance, and that my brave companions would be allowed to escape; and finally, in the perfect resignation which I felt to my approaching fate, I was consoled by my conscience telling me that I had committed no crime that merited so sanguinary and ignominious a punishment. I laid my hand upon my heart, and felt that I had done nothing to tarnish the honour of a naval officer and a gentleman.
At daybreak a guard came to conduct me to the place of examination. Here I found Lieutenant Demangeoit, of thegendarmerie, a scrivener, and Mr. Galliers, interpreter. This Lieutenant Demangeoit was afterwards dismissed from the Emperor’s service. My examination continued two or three hours; every question and answer was noted down, and as much form and solemnity as possible were given to the proceedings. I was minutely cross-examined with respect to the pistol-stock, and was sifted over and over again, with both earnestness and cunning, as to where I had been on the days Buonaparte had passed through Verdun. I was interrogated as to what company I had been in, with whom I had breakfasted; and numberless other questions were put to me, without my being able to form the slightest idea of what they suspected or at what object they were aiming. However, it was clear that I was suspected of some offence in relation to the Emperor, and it was certain that there was a determination, if possible, to implicate me in it. Our companion Essel had on that morning given a public breakfast to several of his friends at his lodgings, which happened to be situated immediately in thethoroughfare, or most public part of the town,La Place St. Croix, and close to the windows of which Napoleon and suite must of necessity have passed. Of this circumstance I was ignorant, consequently had no invitation, which at this moment, for me, proved a fortunate event, and evidently explained the cause of this strict and scrutinising examination.
M. le Lieutenant Demangeoit appeared also particularly anxious to ascertain whether my pistols had been purchased previous or subsequent to the breakfast on the day of Buonaparte passing through Verdun. This was evidently done with the intention of, if possible, fixing upon us—but more especially upon me, to whom the articles in question belonged—the atrocious and abominable stigma of a conspiracy and premeditated design to assassinate their Emperor: for whom, however formidable my dislike might have been to thechiefof the avowed foes of my country, I entertained not the slightest feeling of personal vindictive animosity. They very much wanted to be informed by whom we had been supplied with ropes, and who had assisted us in descending the ramparts. I replied, “That, by degrees, we had procured sufficient rope for the purpose of horse-collars, and of coursetwicethe length that would have been necessary had we had a friend to assist us in descending by holding it fast; but we had to place the bight over a rock which I knew stood near the place, and then went down by the double part; after which we hauled it to us, cut it to pieces, and threw it into the Meuse.”
I went through all this raking and cross-fire of examination with patience and humility; but, the ordeal being over, I began to remonstrate at the unnecessary cruelty ofbeing separated from my companions. At last it was decided that I should be conducted to their prison,La Tour d’Angoulême, they having been removed from it to the place of examination. We were not allowed to see each other until the whole examination was over; but, in passing the guard-room in which they were locked up, I heard their voices, and vociferated to them, “Mind you stick to the old text:” a hint they very well understood. This exasperated the guard, who insisted upon knowing what I had said; but I simply replied, “That I had only said that I was very hungry and wanted my breakfast:” with which he seemed perfectly satisfied. I need not describe the joy we all felt upon being once more together.
We amused ourselves the whole night in talking over the different questions that had been put to each of us; for it had long been our practice to suggest every possible question to which we might be probably exposed, in the event of our being captured, and to agree upon the answers we should make, in order that neither equivocation nor inconsistencies might undo us. The gaoler (Monsieur Percival) supplied us, out of our own funds, with the nourishment that was permitted by the laws of prison discipline. Fire and candle were prohibited.
Some days had elapsed, when we were again conducted to be examined separately. I was the first called into court. The lieutenant (Demangeoit) informed me that there had been certain questions transmitted from the minister at Paris to be put to me, and to which it would be to my interest to give candid answers. In the first place, he was certain that we never could have kept a direct course through the long and difficult route from Verdun to Étaples without guides, especially as it appeared that wehad had neither chart nor compass. We had luckily destroyed the compass, and no chart had been found upon us, with the exception of the maps of the departments at Étaples, so I coolly replied, “That English sailors could always steer with sufficient correctness by the stars, and that when those celestial objects were visible they were never at a loss.”
When this question was disposed of, the court wished to be informed, “Whether I knew anything of the coast of France, and whether I had ever been stationed off it?” It struck me that the shipwreck of theHussarwas a pretty clear proof that there was one part of the coast, at least, of which it would appear we had but an imperfect knowledge; but, smiling at the question, I replied, “That every naval officer of England was by far better acquainted with the French coast than even with his own.” I mollified this allusion to our blockading every port of France, and triumphantly sailing round her coasts, by adding, “That we could hardly go up and down Channel without acquiring a knowledge of the northern coast of France;” and at length I left no doubt on their minds with respect to our local knowledge of it. The questions were the same to all the rest, and we were then again reconducted to our prison.
In a week we were ordered to prepare ourselves for a march to the fortress of Bitche, in Lorraine, a wretched place, well known to many of our unhappy countrymen; a place in the dreadful caverns of which many a valuable British subject had terminated his existence in all the agony that illness, despondency, and ill-usage could create. This was my transition from the expected fate of being shot. And here, in some wretchedsouterrain, we were to remain during the war; nay, they even asserted that itwas Buonaparte’s own decree. Death was preferable to such a sentence; but we were resolved to make another effort at all risks, and, if possible, to regain our liberty. Cash alone was wanting. I, however, procured a small supply through the interposition of a worthy countryman, notwithstanding the strict guard that was kept over us. My Samaritan, or friend in need, was the Rev. C. Launcelot Lee (adétenu), Fellow of New College, Oxford, from whom I had at all times received great kindness. He contrived now to assist me in my extreme distress, by giving the money to Mr. Galliers, another worthy Englishman, who had acted as our interpreter. The object was effected dexterously; for Mr. Galliers, in taking leave, at the moment of our setting out for Bitche, when surrounded by thegendarmes, cordially gave me his hand to shake, and pressed the precious treasure into mine. I was obliged to keep this act of generosity a profound secret; for, had it been discovered, it would have been of serious consequences to my two friends.