CHAPTER X.

Her husband went out of the room, and after a minute or two came back, saying that Madam was not well enough to return to the room, and begged that they would admit her excuse, and sit down to supper without her. Whether his wife had informed him of who I was, I know not; but nothing could exceed the civility of the French captain towards me during the supper. We did not, however, remain very late, as the lady of the house was indisposed.

I found out, as I walked home with another French officer, that the captain of the privateer had fallen in with the French lady on her return from Jamaica, where her son died in the hospital,and had married her; and that, moreover, unlike most French husbands, he was most ardently attached to her.

I had breakfasted the next morning, and packed up my clothes preparatory to going on board, and had just returned from a visit of leave-taking with the governor, when who should walk up into my apartment but the French captain of the privateer, accompanied by three or four French officers of the army. I perceived by his looks when he entered that he was a little excited, but I met him cordially. He began a conversation about his action with Captain Weatherall, and instead of speaking handsomely as he had done before, he used expressions which I considered offensive, and I at once took him up by observing that being under a flag of truce, it was impossible for me to notice what he said.

“No,” he replied; “but I wish we were once more on the high seas together, for I have a little debt of gratitude to pay off.”

“Well,” I replied, “you may have; and I should not be sorry to give you an opportunity, if it were possible.”

“May I inquire whether you intend to go home as a cartel, and carry your flag of truce to Liverpool?”

“No, Sir,” I replied; “I shall haul down my flag of truce as soon as I am out of gun-shot of your batteries. I understand what you mean, Sir. It is very true that your vessel carries nearly double the number of men and guns that mine does, but nevertheless I shall haul down my flag of truce, as I say I will.”

“Not if I follow you down the river, I presume?” he said with a sort of sneer.

“Follow me, if you dare,” I cried; “you will meet with your master, depend upon it.”

“Sacre!” replied he, in a passion, “I will blow you out of the water; and if I take you I will hang you for a pirate.”

“Not the last, certainly,” I said coolly.

“Look you, Sir,” he cried, shutting his fist upon the palm of his other hand, “if I take you, I will hang you; and if you take me, you may serve me in the same way. Is it a bargain, or are you a coward?”

“Gentlemen,” I said to the officers present, “you must feelthat your countryman is not behaving well. He has insulted me grossly. I will, however, consent to his terms on one condition, which is, that he will permit one of you, after he has sailed, to make known the conditions upon which we fight to his wife; and that one of you will pledge me his honour that he will impart these conditions as soon as we are gone.”

“Agree to do so—pledge yourself to do so, Xavier,” cried the French captain to one of the officers present.

“Since you wish it, certainly,” he said.

“You pledge yourself to make the conditions known to Madam, as soon as we have sailed?”

“I do, upon the honour of an officer and a gentleman,” replied he, “painful as it will be to me.”

“Then, captain,” I replied, “I agree to your conditions, and one or the other of us shall hang.”

You may suppose, Madam, that I must have been in a state of great irritation to have consented to such terms. I was so, and could not brook such insult in the presence of the French officers. Moreover, as you will observe, in my conversation I did not commit myself in any way. There was nothing dishonourable. I told him that I should haul down my flag of truce, and I also told him that he would meet with his master, which was true enough, as he would meet with the Arrow, commanded by Captain Levee, as well as with my vessel; while he thought that he would have to fight with my inferior vessel alone, and, making sure of conquest, he purposely insulted me, to make me accept such conditions as would administer to the revenge of his wife, who had evidently worked him up to act in such a manner; and I accepted them, because I hoped the fate would be his if Captain Levee joined me, and if not, I was determined that I never would be taken alive.

After I had agreed to his conditions, they all took a very ceremonious leave, and I bowed them out with great mock humility. I then bade farewell to my passengers, who lodged in the same hotel, and went down to my boat, and pulled on board. As soon as the tide served, the pilot came on board, and we got under weigh. I observed a great bustle, and a hurrying to and fro ofboats on board of the French privateer, and we had not gone above two miles down the river, before I perceived the men were aloft and lowering her sails. I told my officers that I had received a challenge from the French privateer, and had accepted it, and that we must get every thing ready for action. They were much astonished at this, as the disparity of force was so great, but they went cheerfully to their duty, as did the men, among whom the news was soon spread.

Captain Levee and I engage with the French Privateer—We come off victorious—My revenge against the French Lady—We take our Prize to Liverpool.

Captain Levee and I engage with the French Privateer—We come off victorious—My revenge against the French Lady—We take our Prize to Liverpool.

The wind was light, and we did not gain the mouth of the river till near sun-down, when the pilot left us; and as soon as we were three miles in the offing, I hauled down the flag of truce in the sight of the French privateer, who was following us close, and was not more than four miles from us. To avoid mistake, I had agreed with Captain Levee that should I be coming out after dark, I would carry a light at the peak, and this light I now hoisted. It enabled the French privateer to follow me, and appeared only as a mark of contempt towards him. I stood on in the direction where I was to find Captain Levee, and could make out the Frenchman following me, and gradually nearing me. As it became dark I made more sail to keep him further off till I had joined the Arrow, but the light at my peak pointed out to him where I was. All this seemed a mystery to my officers and men, until having run out about four leagues, I desired them to keep a sharp look-out for the Arrow.

About half-past eight o’clock we perceived her lying-to; she had furled her sails after dark, as usual. The light I bore told her who I was, and I ran close to her, and, hailing Captain Levee, desired him to prepare for action, and that I would come on board to speak to him. This, of course, created a great bustle on board of the Arrow, and I hastened on board that they might not show any lights. I then informed Captain Levee of all thathad passed, and that the Frenchman was not more than five miles from us. We agreed that I should still keep up the light, and bear away a little to draw the Frenchman to leeward of the port, and also to leeward of the Arrow;—that the Arrow should lower her sails again, so as not to be perceived until I had drawn the Frenchman past him, and that then I should commence the action under sail, and fight till the Arrow came up to my assistance. This being arranged, I hastened on board of my schooner, and keeping away four points, I waited for the coming up of my antagonist. In half an hour we could perceive him through the gloom, not more than a mile from us, under all sail, standing steadily for the light which we carried at our peak.

As I had already discovered that my little schooner sailed faster than my opponent, I allowed her to come up within a quarter of a mile of me, when I rounded to; and desiring my men to aim at his rigging, so as to dismantle him, poured in my broadside of grape and langridge, and then shifted my helm and resumed my course, putting more sail on, so as to increase my distance to what it was before. This manœuvre I executed three times with success, and I had the satisfaction of perceiving that his foretop-mast was shot away; but when I rounded-to the fourth time, he did the same, and we exchanged broadsides. The effect of his superior artillery was evident, for my rigging and sails were much damaged; happily nothing so serious as to impede our speed, and I again put before the breeze as before, and increased my distance previous to again rounding-to; for, as the water was very smooth, I knew that if I was crippled she would lay me by the board immediately, and I might be taken and hanged before the Arrow could come up to my assistance. I therefore continued a running fight at such a distance as rendered me less liable to suffer from his guns.

It is true that this distance made my guns even more ineffective, but I was decoying my Frenchman off from the land, and placing the Arrow between him and his port, so that his return would be intercepted. This continued for about an hour, when I perceived that the Frenchman had got up a new foretop-mast, and had set the sail upon it. He now ran out his bow-chasers,and continued to fire upon me with them alone, not choosing to lose ground by rounding-to, to give me a broadside; and as his canvas was all out, and I was occasionally rounding-to to dismantle him, we retained much the same distance from one another. At last a shot from his bow-chaser struck off the head of my mainmast, and my gaff came down.

This was serious. We hastened to reef the mainsail, and hoist it up again upon the remainder of the mast, but having no gaff-topsail, our speed was necessarily decreased, and the enemy appeared to be gradually closing with us. I looked out for the Arrow, but could perceive no signs of her; indeed it was too dark to see farther than half a mile. Finding that on the point of sailing we were on I had no chance, I determined to alter my course, and put my schooner right before the wind, so that I might set the square mainsail, which would give time for the Arrow to arrive; indeed at this time I was in a state of great anxiety. However, I had made up my mind not to be taken alive, and to sell my life as dearly as I could.

When the enemy perceived that we had put before the wind, he did the same, and as we were about half a mile from each other, we continued to exchange broadsides as we ran, she gradually nearing us so as to make her heavy artillery more effective. This portion of the contest continued for an hour, during which my little schooner had received much injury, and we were constantly repairing damages. At last, much to my delight, the day began to dawn, and I then discovered the Arrow about a mile and a half from us, right astern, under a press of sail.

I pointed her out to my officers and men, who were inspired with fresh courage at the sight. The enemy also perceived her, and appeared determined to bring the combat to an issue previous to her coming up, and I feared that, at all events, I might swing at the yard-arm, let the issue of the coming combat be what it might. She neared, steering a course so as to cut me off, and I continued to pour in my broadsides to cripple her if possible, as she did not now fire, but ran steadily for me, and my chances were bad.

Anxious that the Arrow should close as soon as possible, Ihauled down my square mainsail, that we might not run from her, and prepared for an obstinate resistance if boarded. At last the Frenchman was within a cable’s length, and at this critical moment the Arrow was about a mile to windward. We poured in our last broadside, and hastened to seize our pikes and cutlasses to repel the boarders, when to my satisfaction I found that one of our shot had cut his gaff in two. I immediately rounded to the wind; and as my antagonist was within pistol-shot of me, with her men all ready for the leap on board, I put my helm down, went round in stays, and crossed her so near to windward that you might have thrown a biscuit on board.

This manœuvre prevented his boarding, and I may say saved my life, for his gaff being shot away, he could not heave in stays to follow me, but was obliged to wear round after me, which increased his distance at least a cable’s length to leeward. A furious broadside, however, which he poured in, crippled me altogether. Every thing came running down upon the decks, and I was left a complete wreck; but I was to windward of him, and although he might sink me, he could not board or take possession until he had refitted his after-sail.

But now his time was come. A fresh antagonist, with equal weight of metal, was close to him, and he had to decide whether he would fight or run. Whether he conceived that running was useless, which it certainly was, or was determined to take us both or die, I know not, certain it is that he did not put his vessel before the wind, but waited with determination the coming up of the Arrow. Captain Levee passed under the Frenchman’s stern, raking him with a broadside that almost unrigged him, and then engaged him to leeward, so as to cut off all chance of his escape.

The Frenchman returned the fire with spirit, and I took my men from my guns that we might set some sail upon the vessel, for after the Arrow commenced her fire no further notice was taken of me by the Frenchman. After a contest well maintained for half an hour, the mainmast of the Frenchman went by the board, and this almost settled the question, as he could not keep his vessel to the wind, and consequently she fell off, and received a raking fire from the Arrow. At last her bowsprit wasbetween the main and fore rigging of the Arrow, and her decks were swept by the Arrow’s raking fire. I had got some sail up forward, and was anxious to be at the close of the action. I perceived that the Frenchman was attempting to board the lugger, and was pouring all his people on the forecastle, and I therefore edged down to him that I might, with my people, board him on the quarter, which would place him, as we say, between two fires. The conflict was at its highest; the French attempting and the Arrow’s crew repelling them, when I laid my schooner on her quarter, and leaped on board of her with my few remaining men. The Frenchmen turned to repel my attack, and thus weakened their party opposed to the Arrow’s men; the consequence was, that they were first beaten back, and then boarded by Captain Levee and his crew.

As soon as I had gained the deck of the Frenchman, I thought of nothing but to single out the French captain. At first I could not see him, but as his crew retreated from Captain Levee and his men, I perceived him, pale and exhausted, but still attempting to rally them. As my object was to take him alive, I rushed in advance at him, wrestled, and threw him on his back on the deck. There I held him, while the combatants fighting and retreating, tumbled over us one after another, and bruised us severely with their weight. At last the French were beaten below, and I had time to breathe; calling to two of my men, I desired them to take charge of the French captain, and as they valued their lives, not to let him escape, or destroy himself, but to take him into our vessel and guard him carefully in my cabin. Having done this, I went to Captain Levee, and we embraced.

“You did not come a minute too soon,” I said, wiping the blood from my face.

“No, indeed; and but for your clever manœuvre, you would have been beaten. Your vessel is a mere nutshell compared to this;—you did well, more than well, to maintain the combat so long. Have you lost many men?”

“We had ten sent below before we boarded; what may have followed since I do not know. I have the French captain safe in my cabin.”

“I saw the men hand him over:—well, now to repair damages, and then I will tell you what you shall do. I must send on board and help you; the Arrow has not suffered much considering, and I can spare the men. As soon as we have cleared up the decks a little, we will breakfast together, and talk the matter over.”

It required two hours before we could clear the decks of our vessels, for we had separated, and the Arrow had taken charge of the prize. Before I took the boat to go on board the Arrow, I went down into my cabin, where the French captain lay bound and watched by two of the men.

“You are prepared to pay the penalty agreed upon, Monsieur?” said I.

“I am, Sir,” he replied. “I now understand what you meant when you said that I should meet with my match. I have no one to blame but myself. I urged you to the conditions, expecting an easy and certain conquest with my superior vessel. I have fallen into my own net, and there’s an end of the matter—except that when things go wrong, a woman is certain to be at the bottom of it.”

“I am aware, Sir,” I replied, “that your wife instigated you to act as you did, or you would never have so behaved. In attempting to revenge the death of one husband, she has lost two.”

“C’est vrai,” replied the Frenchman, composedly, and I then quitted the cabin, and went on board of the Arrow.

“Well, Elrington,” said Captain Levee, “what do you intend to do with the French captain? Is he to pay the forfeit, and swing at the yard-arm?”

“I don’t like hanging a man, especially a brave man, in cold blood,” I replied. “It was all his wife’s doing, and he has confessed as much.”

“He would certainly have hanged you,” replied Levee.

“Yes, that I believe; but it would have been that he might have a quiet life at home—not from any resentment against me. Now I have no feeling of that kind to actuate me.”

“What will you do, then?”

“Not hang him, certainly; and yet I should like to punish her.”

“She deserves it,” replied Captain Levee. “Now, Elrington, will you approve of my suggestion?”

“Let me hear it.”

“It is this: they do not know that I have assisted in taking the privateer, as they have no idea that I am here. As soon as we have refitted her and your vessel, I will remain where I am. You shall run into the mouth of the Garonne, with your colours flying, and the English Jack over the French flag on board of the prize. This will lead them to suppose that you have taken the vessel without assistance. When just out of gun-shot, heave-to, fire a gun, and then swing an effigy to the yard-arm, and remain there, to make them suppose that you have hung the French captain. At nightfall you can make sail and rejoin me. That will punish her, and annoy them generally.”

“I will do so; it is an excellent device, and she will never know the truth for a long time to come.”

We remained all that day refitting; in the evening I made sail, in company with the French schooner, which was manned by Captain Levee, and stood in shore. At break of the following day I ran in, standing for the harbour, without my colours being hoisted, and then it occurred to me that I would make their disappointment greater, by allowing them first to imagine that the victory was theirs; so, when about six miles off, I hoisted French colours on the French schooner, and French colours over English on board of my own.

I continued to stand on till within two miles and a half of the batteries, and could see crowds flocking down to witness the supposed triumphant arrival of their privateer into port; when of a sudden I hauled my wind, hove-to, brailed up my sails, and changed the colours, firing a gun in bravado. Allowing them half an hour to comment upon this disappointment, I then fired another gun, and hoisted up to the yard-arm the figure of a man, composed of clothes stuffed with hay, made to represent the French captain; and having so done, I remained during thewhole forenoon, with my sails brailed up, that they might have a clear view of the hanging figure. At last we perceived a large boat, with a flag of truce coming out of the river. I remained where I was, and allowing it to come alongside, I perceived in it the French officer, who had pledged himself to give the conditions of the combat to the lady; and seated by him was the French captain’s wife, with her head sunk down on her knees, and her face buried in her handkerchief.

I saluted the officer as he came on the deck. He returned my bow, and then said, “Sir, the fortune of war has proved in your favour, and I perceive that the conditions of the issue of the combat have been adhered to on your side. Against that I have not a word to say, as my friend would have as rigidly adhered to them. But, Sir, we war not with the dead, and I have come off at the request of his miserable wife, to beg that you will, now that your revenge is satisfied, deliver up to her her husband’s body, that it may receive the rites of the Church, and Christian burial. You surely, as a brave man, will not deny this small favour to a woman whom you have twice deprived of her husband?”

“Sir,” I replied, “on condition that his lady will step on board and make the request herself, I will comply with it, but on no other terms.”

“It will be most painful, and her feelings might well have been spared such a trial as to meet your face again, and make the request in person; but as you insist upon it, I will make known your terms.”

As he went into his boat I ran down into the cabin, and desired them to cast loose the French captain, saying to him, “Sir, your wife is here requesting your body, which she believes to be swinging at the yard-arm, for I have put that trick into execution to punish her. I never intended to take your life, and I shall now do more, I shall give you not only life, but liberty—such shall be my revenge.”

The French captain stared as if confounded, but made no reply. I then went on deck, where I found the lady had been lifted up the side. They led her to me, and she fell on herknees, but the effort was too much for her, and she fainted away. I ordered her to be taken down into the cabin, and, without any explanation, desired the French officer to accompany her, not wishing to be present at the unexpected meeting. I therefore remained on deck, and ordering the men to lower down the effigy, they did so, laughing at the French seamen in the boat, who for the first time perceived, for they had not looked up before, that it was only a sham captain. I looked over the side, and told them that the captain was alive and well, and would be in the boat very soon, at which they were greatly rejoiced. In the mean time the explanation took place in the cabin, and after a few minutes the French officer came up, and expressed his satisfaction at what I had done.

“You have given a lesson, Sir, without being guilty of barbarity. Your conduct has been noble.”

He was soon followed by the French captain and his lady, who was now all gratitude, and would have kissed my hands, but I prevented her, and said, “Madam, at least now you have no occasion to hate me. If I was so unfortunate, in self-defence, as to slay your first husband, I have restored to you your second. Let us, then, part in amity.”

The French captain squeezed my hand, but said nothing. I begged they would take some refreshment, but they were too anxious to return and undeceive their friends, and requested permission to go into the boat. Of course I consented, and as the boat pulled away, the crew gave three huzzas, as a compliment to us. When they were a mile in shore, I hauled down the colours of both vessels, and made sail out to rejoin Captain Levee, which I did in the evening, and then related all that had passed.

He was much pleased with the result of the affair, and we then, having consulted, considered it advisable to run back to Liverpool with the prize, for she required so many hands to man her as to render us by no means efficient vessels. Moreover, I have omitted to state that while I was in the Garonne, the Arrow had taken two good prizes, which she had manned and sent to Liverpool. We therefore made sail to the northward, and in a weekwere again in port, with our prize. We found that the other vessels had arrived safe, and the owner was much pleased with the results of this short and eventful cruise.

I cause myself to be dismissed from my Owner’s Service—Am arrested—Conveyed to London, and confined in the Tower—Am visited by a Romish Priest, and through his interference obtain my Liberation—Set off to Liverpool, and find my Owner and Captain Levee—Their surprise—Miss Trevannion.

I cause myself to be dismissed from my Owner’s Service—Am arrested—Conveyed to London, and confined in the Tower—Am visited by a Romish Priest, and through his interference obtain my Liberation—Set off to Liverpool, and find my Owner and Captain Levee—Their surprise—Miss Trevannion.

When I called upon our owner, which I did as soon as I had dropped my anchor and furled sails, he embraced me, and then led me into the back room next to his counting-house.

“My dear Elrington,” said he, “well as you managed to get off the Jacobite gentlemen, there is a strong suspicion on the part of the government, that they were on board of your vessel, and that I was a party to their escape. Whether they will take any measures now that you have returned, I know not; they may have gained some intelligence, or they may worm out something, by their emissaries, from those who compose your crew, and if so, we must expect their vengeance. Now tell me where you landed them, and all the events of your cruise, for I have heard but little from those who brought in the prizes taken by the Arrow. Captain Levee is too busy with his own vessel and the prize to come on shore for these two hours, and I wish to talk with you alone upon this affair.”

After I had narrated all that had passed, and the manner in which the French privateer had been captured, the owner said—

“If the government spies, and there are plenty of them about, find out from your crew that you landed passengers at Bordeaux, depend upon it you will be arrested and examined, without you get out of the way till the affair has blown over. Now, the men will narrate in the taverns the curious history of this French privateer, and in so doing cannot fail to state that you were on shore in France. Now, Elrington, you have run the risk to oblige me, and I must keep you out of difficulty; and, if youfeel inclined to hide yourself for a time, I will of course pay all your expenses.”

“No,” I replied; “if they find out what has taken place, and wish to get hold of me in consequence, I think it will be better to brave it out. If I hide away, it will make them more anxious to have me, and will confirm their suspicions that I am what they are pleased to call a traitor; a reward will be offered for my apprehension, and at any time that I do appear, the reward will cause me to be taken up. If, on the contrary, I brave it out, and if I am asked, say at once that I did land passengers, at all events they will not make it high treason; so, with your leave, I will stay. I hardly need say that I shall take the whole responsibility on myself, and declare that I took them on board without your knowledge; that you may rest assured of.”

“On consideration, I think that your plan is the best,” replied my owner. “I am grateful for your offer of screening me, which I would not permit, were it not that I shall be useful to you if any mischance takes place, and, if in prison, could be of no service.”

“Then, Sir,” I replied, “the wisest course will be for you at once to dismiss me from the command of the privateer, in consequence of your having been informed that I carried passengers and landed them in France. That step will prove you a friend to the government, and will enable you, after a time, to get me out of my scrape more effectually.”

“You are sacrificing yourself, Elrington, and all for me.”

“Not so, Sir. I am only securing a friend in case of need.”

“That you certainly are,” replied my owner, squeezing my hand. “Well, it will be the best plan even for you, and so let it be.”

“Then I will now return on board, and tell the officers that I am dismissed. There is no time to be lost; and here comes Captain Levee; so for the present, Sir, farewell.”

On my return on board, I called up the officers and men, and told them that I had offended the owner, and that he had dismissed me from the command of the privateer. One of the officers inquired what I had done; and I said, before the men, thatit was for landing the passengers in France. They all condoled with me, and expressed their sorrow at my leaving them, and I believe that they were sincere. It was fortunate that I did as I had done, for I found that the government emissaries were on board at the time that I made the communication, and had already gained the information from some of my crew. I ordered my chest and bedding to be put into the boat, and as soon as they were ready, I gave up the command to the first officer, and bidding them all farewell, went down the side, and pulled on shore, repairing to my former lodgings.

I had not been there two hours before I was arrested and taken to prison. I was, however, very comfortably lodged, because I was a state prisoner, and I presume that more respect is paid to a man when he is to be drawn and quartered, and his head set above the Tower gates, then a petty malefactor. The next day I was summoned before what was called the Commission, and asked whether I had not landed some people in France? I replied immediately that I had done so.

“Who were they?” was the next inquiry.

“They stated themselves to be Roman Catholic priests,” replied I, “and such I believed them to be.”

“Why did I do so?”

“Because, in the first place, they paid me one hundred guineas each; and, in the second, because I considered them mischievous, dangerous men, conspiring against the government, and that the sooner they were out of the country the better.”

“How did I know that they were traitors?”

“All Roman priests were traitors in my opinion, and I hated them as bad as I did the French, but it is difficult to deal with a priest, and I thought that I was performing a good service in ridding the country of them.”

“Who else was privy to the affair?”

“No one; I had made the arrangement with them myself, and not an officer or man on board knew any thing about it.”

“But my owner, Mr. Trevannion, was he a party to it?”

“No, he was not; and on my return he dismissed me fromthe command of the privateer, as soon as he found out that I had landed the priests in France.”

A great many more questions were put to me, all of which I answered very cautiously, yet without apparent hesitation; and after an examination of four hours, the president of the Commission told me that I had been, by my own acknowledgment, aiding and abetting the escape of malignant traitors, and prevented them meeting their just fate on the scaffold. That, in so doing, I had been guilty of treason, and must abide the sentence of the supreme Commission in London, whither I should be sent the following day. I replied that I was a loyal subject; that I hated the French and Romish plotters, and that I had done what I considered was best; that if I had done wrong, it was only an error in judgment; and any one that said I was a traitor, lied in his throat.

My reply was taken down, and I was sent back to prison.

The following afternoon the gaoler came into my room accompanied by two persons, one of whom informed me that I was delivered over to their custody to be taken to London. I was led out, and at the door I found three horses, upon one of which I was desired to mount. As soon as I was in the saddle, a rope was passed from one leg to the other under the horse’s belly, so as to prevent my escape; and my horse was led between the other two, upon which my keepers rode, each having a hand-rein made fast from my horse’s bridle to his own. A crowd was assembled round the entrance of the gaol, and among the lookers-on I perceived Captain Levee and my owner; but of course I thought it imprudent to take any notice of them, and they did not make any recognition of me.

I hardly need say, my dear Madam, how very revolting it was to my feelings to be thus led away like a felon; but at the same time I must acknowledge the courtesy of my conductors, who apologized for being compelled to take such measures of security, and on the way showed great kindness and good-feeling.

Every thing being arranged, we proceeded on our journey; but it was late when we set off, owing to one of my conductors being sent for by the commissioner, and having to wait forletters for nearly three hours. As it may be supposed, we could not travel at speed, and we seldom went faster than a walk, which I was sorry for, as I was anxious that the journey should be over, and my fate decided as soon as possible.

Almost an hour after dark, a party of men rushed from the side of the road, and some seizing the bridles of the horses, the others threw the two conductors off their saddles by taking them by the leg and heaving them over on the other side. This was done so quickly, that the two men, who were well armed, had not time to draw out a pistol or any other weapon of defence; and as soon as they were on the ground, they were immediately seized and overpowered. The faces of the men who had thus assailed the king’s officers were blackened so as to disguise them, but from their voices I knew them to be the men and officers of the privateer. “Now then, Captain Elrington,” said one of them, “be off with you as fast as possible, and we will take care of these fellows.”

I still remained in my saddle, and although somewhat flurried with the surprise of the attack, I had had time to recover myself, and had decided upon my mode of behaviour. I felt as I had said to the owner when we consulted together, that an escape now would be only putting off the evil day, and that it was better to meet the case boldly at once; so I rose in my stirrups, and said to the men in a loud voice, “My good fellows, I am much obliged to you for your exertions in my behalf, as it proves your good-will, but I cannot and will not take advantage of them. By some mistake I am accused of being a traitor, when I feel that I am a true and loyal subject, which I have no doubt will be fully established upon my arrival in London. I cannot, therefore, take advantage of this opportunity to escape. I respect the laws of my country, and I beg you to do the same. Oblige me by releasing the two gentlemen whom you have made your prisoners, and assist them to remount their horses, for I am resolved that I will go to London and be honourably acquitted. Once more, my lads, many thanks for your kind intentions; and now I wish you farewell, and if you would do me a great favour, you will disperse peaceably, and leave us to proceed on our journey.”

The men perceived that I was in earnest, and therefore did as I requested, and in another minute I was again alone with my two keepers.

“You have behaved honourably, Sir, and perhaps wisely,” observed one of my conductors, as he was about to remount his horse. “I will not ask you who those people were, although I have no doubt but you recognized them yourself.”

“No,” I replied, “I did not. I guessed from whence they came, but I did not recognize any one individual.”

I gave this cautious answer, although I had recognized Captain Levee and one of my own officers.

“Well, Captain Elrington, you have proved to us that you may be trusted, and therefore, on your pledging your word that you will not escape, we shall have a great pleasure in removing all unpleasant precautions.”

“I certainly have proved that I would not escape, and will readily give you my assurance that I will not alter my mind.”

“That is sufficient, Sir,” replied the officer; and he then cut away the rope which bound my legs, and also look off the two leading reins attached to the other horses. “We shall now,” he said, “proceed not only more pleasantly, but more rapidly.”

My conductors then mounted their horses, and we set off at a good trot, and in an hour arrived at the place where we were to put up for the night. We found supper prepared for us, and good beds. My conductors now left me free of all restraint, and we retired to our beds. The next day we continued our journey in the same manner. My companions were pleasant and gentlemen-like men, and we discoursed freely upon every topic; no one could have imagined that I was a state prisoner.

We arrived at London on the fifth day, and I was then delivered over to the keeper of the Tower, according to the instructions that my conductors had received. They bade me farewell, and promised that they would not fail to represent my conduct to the authorities, and gave me hopes of a speedy release. I had the same idea, and took possession of the apartmentsprepared for me (which were airy and well ventilated) with almost cheerfulness.

On the third day after my arrival a Commission was sent to the Tower to examine me, and I gave the same replies as before. They were very particular in obtaining the descriptions of the persons of those whom I had landed in France, and I answered without disguise. I afterwards found out that I had done a very foolish thing. Had I misrepresented their persons, it would have been supposed that they really were four Catholic priests, but from my exact description, they discovered that I had rescued the four traitors (as they termed them) that they were most anxious to secure and make an example of; and their annoyance at this discovery had so angered them against me, that my subsequent conduct could not create any feeling favourable towards me.

Three weeks elapsed, and I was wearied of confinement. My gaoler told me that he feared my case was a bad one; and after another week had passed, he said that I was condemned as aiding and abetting treason. I must say that I little expected this result, and it quite overthrew me. I asked my gaoler what was his authority. He said that so many people had assisted and effected the escape of the rebels without one having been convicted of having so done except myself, on my own avowal, that they deemed it absolutely necessary that an example should be made, to deter others from aiding those who were still secreted in the country; and that in consequence it had been decided by the Privy Council that I should be made an example of. He told me much more which I need not repeat, except that it proved the malignant feeling that was indulged by the powers in authority against those who had assisted their defeated opponents, and I felt that I had no chance, and prepared my mind to meet my fate.

Alas, my dear Madam, I was but ill-prepared to die,—not that I feared death, but I feared what must be my condition after death. I had lived a reckless, lawless life, without fear of God or man; all the religious feelings which had been instilled into me by my good tutor (you know my family history, and I need say no more) during my youth, had been gradually sapped awayby the loose companionship which I had held since the time that I quitted my father’s house; and when I heard that I was to die, my mind was in a state of great disquiet and uncomfortable feeling. I wished to review my life, and examine myself, but I hardly knew where to begin.

All was chaos and confusion. I could remember many bad actions, but few good ones. I felt that I was like a vessel without a rudder, and without a pilot; and after hours and hours of deep thought, I would give up the task of examination in stern despair, saying to myself, “Well, if it must be so, it must.” I felt an inclination to defy that Heaven which I felt would never be opened to me. This was the case for more than a week after I heard of my condemnation, until I began to reflect upon the nature of our creed, and the terms of salvation which were offered; and, as I thought over them, I felt a dawn of hope, and I requested the gaoler to furnish me with a Bible. I read it day and night, for I expected every morning to be summoned to execution. I felt almost agony at times, lest such should be the case; but time passed on, and another fortnight elapsed, during which I had profited by my reading, and felt some contrition for my many offences, and my life of guilt, and I also felt that I could be saved through the merits of Him who died for the whole world. Day after day my faith became more lively, and my mind more at ease. One morning the gaoler came to me, and said that there was a priest who wished to see me. As I understood he was a Roman, I was about to refuse; but on consideration, I thought otherwise, and he was admitted. He was a tall, spare man, with a dark Spanish countenance.

“You are, I believe,” said he, “Captain Elrington, who effected the escape of some of our poor friends, and who are now condemned for your kind act?”

“I am, Sir,” replied I.

“I am aware,” said he, “that your profession of faith is not mine, and do not, therefore, come to talk with you on serious points, without you should wish it yourself; my object is, being indebted as we are to you for saving our friends, to offer to be of any use that I can to you, in executing any wishes, or deliveringany messages, which you may wish to give, should you suffer for your generous conduct, and you may trust any thing to me with safety, that I swear to you;” and he took a crucifix from the folds of his garment, and kissed it, as he said so.

“I thank you for your kind offer, Sir,” replied I, “but I have nothing to trouble you with. I have long quitted my family, who know not whether I am alive or dead, for reasons that I need not explain. I am under an assumed name, and it is my intention to suffer under that name, that my family may not be disgraced by my ignominious death, or be aware that I have perished on the scaffold.”

“Perhaps you are right,” replied the priest; “but let us talk upon another point; have you no friends that could exert themselves in your favour so as to procure your pardon and release?”

“None,” replied I, “except those who, I am sure, are exerting themselves to the utmost of their power, and to whom no message from me is necessary.”

“Do you know nobody at court,” said the priest, “no person of rank in the government—or I may say opposed to the government—for people now-a-days are not what they seem or pretend to be?”

“I have no knowledge of any titled person,” replied I; “when I parted with one of the gentlemen whom I landed at Bordeaux, he gave me the name of a lady of quality at Paris, desiring me, if in difficulty, to apply to him through her; but that was, if in difficulty in France; of course, she could do nothing for me in this country.”

“Have you the name of the lady?”

“Yes,” replied I; “it is on the first leaf of my pocket-book. Here it is.”

The priest read the name, and then said—

“You must write immediately a few words, acquainting her with your position. I will see the letter safely delivered before the week is over.”

“What good can she possibly do me?” replied I.

“I cannot say; but this I know, that if any thing is to be done, it will be. Write immediately.”

The priest called the gaoler, and requested writing materials, which were brought, and in a few minutes I had done as he requested.

“There, Sir, I have written to please you; but I candidly state that I consider it a useless attempt.”

“Were I of your opinion, I should not have advised you to write,” replied he. “There are wheels within wheels that you have no conception of, in these troubled times. What I most fear is, that it may arrive too late.”

The priest took his leave of me, and I was left to my own thoughts. When I considered that the address of this lady had been given to me by the very man whom they were so anxious to secure as a traitor, I at once decided that no benefit could arrive from any interference on her part; and I therefore, after a quarter of an hour, dismissed the whole subject from my thoughts, and commenced my reading of the sacred writings. The following morning, when the gaoler came in, I could not help observing to him, that as I had been condemned so many days, I felt much surprise at the delay of my execution. His reply was, that he heard that others were in custody upon the same charge, and that they waited for their convictions that we might all suffer at the same time; for the order for my execution had come on the Friday last, but had been countermanded on the afternoon of the same day. Although this satisfied me that I had no hopes of escape, yet I was pleased that I had obtained more time for preparation, and I renewed my reading with ardour. Another week passed, when the gaoler, with a solemn face, and much apparent concern, came in, and informed me that the other parties arrested had been tried before the Commission, and had been condemned, and that it was expected that the execution would take place either on the morrow or the day after. The announcement did not affect me much. I had made up my mind that I should suffer, and had to a degree weaned myself from life. I considered how all hopes of my ever enjoying the delight of family and kindred ties had flown away, and I looked with disgust upon my career as a privateer’s-man—a career of recklessness and blood, so denounced by the sacred writings which I had before me. I reflected that if I wereto leave the prison, I should have no other means of sustenance, and should probably return to my former life, and load my soul with a still heavier weight of crime, and, although I felt an occasional bitter pang at the idea of leaving the world so young—a world which I could not hate—still I was, after a few hours’ communing and reflection, resigned to my fate, and exclaimed with sincerity, “Thy will be done.” I think, Madam, you may have observed that, sinful as I was, my whole career proved that I was not a hardened sinner. Good was not driven entirely out of me, but was latent, notwithstanding all my excesses, and the bad company which had influenced me.

I now prayed, and prayed earnestly, and I thought that my prayers were heard. Such was my state of mind on the day before the one appointed for my execution, when the gaoler and one of the sheriff’s officers came into my cell, accompanied by the Roman Catholic priest whom I have before mentioned. I perceived by the countenance of the gaoler, who was a humane man, that he had no unpleasant news. The sheriff’s officer delivered to him an order for my liberation, and to my astonishment I was told by the gaoler that my pardon was signed, and that I was free. I was stupified with the intelligence, and I stood without making any reply. The priest waved his hand to them as a hint to leave the room, which they both did. As they left, my eyes followed them, and then I cast them down upon the Bible which lay before me on the table, and slipping down from the bench upon my knees, I covered up my face and prayed. My prayers were confused—I hardly knew what I said—but I knew that they were intended to be grateful to Heaven for my unexpected preservation from an ignominious death. After a time, I rose up, and perceived the priest, whose presence I had till then forgotten. He had been kneeling at the other side of the table praying with me, and I am sure for me—and he was rising up just after I had.

“I trust, Captain Elrington,” said he, after a pause, “that the peril you have been in will influence your future life; and that this severe trial will not be thrown away upon you.”

“I trust not, Sir,” replied I. “I feel that it has been good forme to have been afflicted. I believe that I have been indebted to your exertions for my deliverance.”

“No further than having seen your letter duly and speedily delivered. I could do no more, for with all will, I have no power; and that was little to do for one who so generously assisted our friends in their distress.”

“Am I then to believe that I am indebted to the interest of a French lady, residing at the court of Versailles, for my deliverance?”

“Even so—this may appear strange to you, Captain Elrington, but such is the case. Understand, that in these troubled times, the ruling monarch of this country cannot distinguish his friends from his enemies. He can only trust to professions, and they are not always sincere. There are many in the council at this time, who, if the Pretender, as he is called, had succeeded, would long before this have joined him, and who had wished him success, although they dared not venture to assist him. The interest of the lady in question with these people has prevailed over the true adherents of the Hanoverian king, and thus through this lady have you obtained your release. I state this to you in confidence; to publish what I have told you would be to betray your friends. Can I be of any further service to you? for you can leave your prison as soon as you please.”

“None, I thank you, good Sir,” replied I; “I have money more than sufficient to reward my gaoler, and to defray my expenses to Liverpool.”

“You have my best thanks and sincere wishes for your happiness. Then I will not intrude upon you any more, except to give you my address in case of need. You have made warm friends by your conduct, and if you ever require their assistance, it will not be withheld.”

The priest gave his address upon a piece of paper, and then came to me.

“Our creeds are not exactly the same, but you will not, my son, refuse my blessing?” said he, putting his hand upon my head.

“Oh, no,” said I, dropping on my knees, “I receive it all in thankfulness.”

“May God bless you, my son,” said he, with emotion—and he then quitted the cell.

What with the previous excitement when my liberation was announced, and the parting with the kind priest, my feelings were so powerful, that, as soon as I was alone, I gave vent to them in a flood of tears. As soon as I was more composed, I rose from the bench, put my necessaries into my valise, and summoned the gaoler, to whom I made a handsome present, thanking him for his kindness during my incarceration. I then shook hands with him, fee’d the turnkey who had attended upon me, and in a minute more I was clear of the Tower gates. How my heart heaved when I was once more in the open air.

I looked around me, and perceived that many men were busy in erecting a scaffolding. My heart sank as I beheld them, as I felt certain what it was for; but to verify my opinion, I turned to an old woman who had a sort of stall from which she dispensed mead to the populace, and inquired of her for what the scaffold was being erected.

“It’s for the men who are to be executed to-morrow for aiding the Jacobites to escape,” said she. “Won’t your worship take a glass of mead this morning?”

“I am not thirsty,” I replied, as I walked hastily away with my valise upon my shoulders.

A stranger to this part of London, I hardly knew where to direct my steps; I walked past the square before the Tower, until I came into a street called Catherine-street, where a tavern met my view, and into it I entered immediately, glad, as it were, to hide myself, for I felt as if all the world looked upon me as a person just discharged from prison. I obtained good entertainment there, and slept there that night. The next morning, the host having provided me two good horses, and a youngster to take them back, I set off for Liverpool, and after five days’ travel without adventure, I arrived at the town, and proceeded direct to the house of Mr. Trevannion, my owner. I took my valise off the boy’s horse, and having paid him for his attendance, Iknocked at the door, for it was late in the evening, and dark, when I arrived. The door (for it was at his private house door, which was next to the counting-house door, that I knocked) was opened; and the woman who opened it shrieked, and let drop the candle, exclaiming, “Help, oh God—a ghost, a ghost!” for it appeared that the news had arrived at Liverpool from a messenger who had been sent express after I had been condemned, stating that there was no hope, and that I was to suffer on the Monday previous; and this was the Saturday evening on which I had arrived. Mr. Trevannion’s clerk hearing a noise in the passage, came out with another candle, and seeing me, and the woman lying on the floor in a swoon, stared, staggered to the door of the room where his master was sitting, and the door being a-jar, he fell back with great force into the room, dropping under the table between Mr. Trevannion and Captain Levee, who was sitting with him, smoking, as was very often their wont. This brought out Captain Levee with one of the table-candlesticks, who, upon seeing me, ran to me, and embracing me warmly, cried out, as the clerk made his escape—

“Here is Elrington alive and well, Sir!”

At this announcement Mr. Trevannion came out, and threw himself into my arms, saying—

“I thank God for all his mercies, but above all, that I have not been the cause of your death, my dear Elrington. Come in,” he exclaimed, in a faultering voice; and as soon as he gained his seat, he laid his head down and sobbed with excitement and joy.

I followed Captain Levee into the room, and was taking a chair, when I perceived there was another person present besides Captain Levee and Mr. Trevannion, which was the daughter of the latter; that is, I presumed as much, for I knew that he was a widower, and had one daughter living, out of a family of three children. She appeared to be about seventeen years of age, and had just come from a Protestant convent, as they called establishments where young women were educated at Chester. Mr. Trevannion was still with his face covered, and not yet recovered from his burst of feeling, when this young gentlewoman came up to me, and said—

“Captain Elrington, you have behaved nobly to my father; accept my hand and my friendship.”

I was so dazzled from coming out of the dark, and so excited from what had just passed, that I was almost bewildered; but I accepted the offered hand, and bowed over it, although I declare that at the time I could not distinguish her features, although I perceived that her person was slight and elegant. As she retreated to her seat, Mr. Trevannion, who had recovered from his emotion, said—

“I thought that, at this moment, your head was exhibited over the gates of Temple-bar. The idea, as Captain Levee will tell you, has haunted me; for I felt, and should always have felt, that I was the cause of your death. God bless you, my dear Sir, and may I have an opportunity of showing you my gratitude and regard for your noble conduct towards me, and the sacrifice which you would have made. You need not tell me, for I know too well, that you took all the onus and blame of the affair upon your own shoulders, and preferred death to impeaching me.”

“My dear Elrington,” said Captain Levee, “I told our crew, and you have proved me a true prophet, that you never would peach, but die game. We were talking of you, supposing you dead, when you came in. I must tell you, that more than once Mr. Trevannion had made up his mind to deliver himself up, and acknowledge the truth, but I prevented him, as it would have been a useless sacrifice.”

“You did; but, nevertheless, it was so heavy on my conscience, that had it not been for your perseverance, and the thoughts of leaving my poor girl here an orphan in the world, I certainly should have so done, for I felt life to be a burden.”

“I am very glad that you did not, Sir,” I replied; “my life is of little value; I have no one to support, no one to love, and no one to lament me if I fall. A shot from the enemy may soon send me out of the world, and there will only be a man the less in it, as far as people are interested about me.”

“That is not the case now, at all events,” replied Mr. Trevannion; “but pray, tell us how it is that you have escaped.”

“I have not escaped,” I replied; “here is my pardon, with the sign-manual.”

“And how was it obtained?” exclaimed Captain Levee; “all intercession made through some of the strongest friends of the government was in vain, that I can assert; for you must not suppose that we have been idle down here. We did not leave London till after you were condemned, and every entreaty to see you, or to communicate by letter, was denied to us.”

“I had better, then, begin at the beginning, and state all that occurred. I will first thank you, my dear Levee, for your kind assistance, which I would not avail myself of, as I calculated (wrongly I own) that it would be wiser to remain a prisoner; and I considered that my very refusal to escape would be admitted by the government as a proof of my innocence. I did not know that I had to deal with such malignant people.”

I then commenced my narrative, which occupied the remainder of the evening, and, having received their congratulations, we had a pipe or two, and, as I was fatigued, we retired to bed. I slept little on this, I may say, first night of rest and quiet, after my liberation. I was happy, and yet perplexed. During the time of my imprisonment, it had occurred to me that the life of a privateer’s-man was not one which I could follow up with a good conscience; and I had, on my journey down to Liverpool, made up my mind that I would give it up. I knew this might annoy Mr. Trevannion, and that I should have to meet with the ridicule of Captain Levee, and I was thinking whether it were possible, in the first place, that I could give some well-grounded excuse; and, in the next, what other means of gaining my livelihood I could substitute in its stead. My restlessness induced me to get up earlier than usual, and I went out for an hour’s walk upon the wharfs. I saw my little schooner riding on the stream, and, as she gently rose, and dipped to the swell which ran in with the tide, she looked so beautiful that my resolutions were already giving way. I would look at her no longer; so I turned from the river, and walked back to the owner’s house. It was still early when I went into the eating-hall, where I found Miss Trevannion alone.


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