by Dean King
During his absence the landlady reappeared and began to ask me some questions with great volubility. My knowledge of French was extremely limited, and I could trust myself with no confidence to any expressions in that language but the word “Out,” and that I kept on using at all hazards, whenever she looked inquiringly after a speech. I must have put it in a wrong place more than once, as she testified by her manner, and what might have happened I can’t say if Whitehurst had not made his appearance on the scene. She turned to him, and, as he told me, pronounced me to be English. He vociferated to the contrary, and maintained that I was purely German; but it would not do—the good woman was not born yesterday, and knew an Englishman when she saw one. At last she declared she had no desire to betray us, and if we trusted her we should be kindly treated. So Whitehurst, with my consent, made a clean breast of it. Upon this she recommended us to sign her visitors’ book, putting any fictitious names we liked, and then she advised our going to St. Malo to a house where the owners, whom she knew, would do the best in their power for us.
In the evening, therefore, we resumed our flight, and were supplied by our good landlady with horses, which carried us to the place in question. Here we were conducted to a spacious room and locked in. Our meals were brought to us by a servant in regular succession next day, and at night we left again on horseback. We were told by our kind friends that we should not meet with similar attentions after we had got beyond Brittany. This intelligence was proved true at our next attempt to find a resting-place, for we were refused admission by the landlord, who declared he would not betray us: this was at Avranches. Our guide then took us to the house of two poor women, sisters, who gained their livelihood by keeping an infants’ school. They found a man who engaged to take us to Granville, whither we accordingly proceeded. There I lost no time in looking up the Danish captain, whom I found in bed suffering from dropsy. He was glad to see me and renewed his former offer of assistance. I mentioned Whitehurst, and he declined to have anything to do with him. I left him and returned next evening with Whitehurst, hoping that he might mollify the Dane and induce him to alter his determination, assuring him that no offence had ever been intentionally offered, which I quite believe to be correct; but no, the Dane remained obdurate, and under no condition whatever would listen to any proposal on Whitehurst’s behalf.
A ludicrous mischance happened on this occasion. A vessel full of slops was standing on a chair near the bed, and the Dane asked me if I would oblige him by emptying it out of the window. Misfortune never comes singly, they say, and an illustration of this adage was at hand. Whitehurst, in order to ingratiate himself with the captain, seized the same, rushed to the window, and without looking before him flung the contents into the street below. “Que le diable vous emporte!”shrieked a loud voice at the moment the act was committed, and a figure rushed into the house fresh from the untoward splashing. The mistress of the establishment, who was, it may be recorded, a very pretty woman, ran out to learn the cause of the uproar and met the furious intruder on the landing, who saluted her with the angry question, “Is it you that threw that infernal stuff out of the window just now?” With all the natural readiness of a Frenchwoman’s wit, she perceived her ground at once, and assuming a most penitent mien, hoped that monsieur was not injured. He was not proof (what Frenchman is?), even under the aggravations of such an indignity, against the seductions of a pretty face; and bowing with a smile, he answered, “No hurt, madam, could proceed from so fair a hand.” We learnt when he had gone that the sufferer was no less a personage than the governor of the town. Poor Whitehurst’s attempt to propitiate the invalid had only augmented his aversion. He anathematised his clumsiness, and declared that such a man could only bring his friends into trouble, and he subsided into a stronger fit of contumacy than before. He still declared his wish to serve me, but of this I could no longer hear. I impressed upon his mind that to Whitehurst I was entirely indebted for having got to Granville at all, with my ignorance of the French language; but it was all to no purpose, and we took leave of each other for ever.
In this predicament we left Granville, getting over the walls of the town by means of a rope, and retraced our steps to the schoolmistresses at Avranches. We stopped at a farmhouse before it dawned, and as well as we could in the dark we took a survey of the place. There was a hayloft open above some buildings, and we contrived to get up into it. We found it a capacious loft, half-filled with trusses of straw loosely packed. Between these we crawled, and got as far to the rear as possible. A dog was chained in the chambers below and scented out our intrusion at once. The noise he made gave us some apprehension, especially as he continued barking furiously till the whole household at the farm was astir. They did not appear to discover the cause of his excitement, and he therefore got a correction pretty often. Worse than the dog, however, was the sudden advent of a girl, who commenced peering about amongst the sheaves for eggs; however, she confined her search to a safe distance from us, and finally left, singing to herself, without a suspicion of our presence.
We remained as usual, shunning the face of man at daylight, and when all was quiet, again descended and pushed on to Avranches, where we arrived in the forenoon. We did not so much fear travelling by day through the town as through the country. In the former we were not likely to be much noticed. The two old ladies received us again with pleasure, and I believe were really glad to see us. They turned us into the same room and sent for the guide who had taken charge of us before. We had been without food for thirty-six hours this trip. We were assured by our friends that our safety had been more than once committed by them into the hands of some patron saint selected by them, and to render the goodwill of his saintship more certain they had sold a pair of stockings we had left behind, and honestly recompensed the treasury of the Church with the proceeds.
As early as we could manage to do so, we took leave of our kind friends, God bless them, and set off on horseback for Caen in Normandy. Our guide provided us with a new friend in Normandy, by trade a baker, who proved faithful in all things. He took us to a neighbour who lived in the suburbs and placed us under his protection. This step was a politic one on his part. The second man had a son who was a prisoner in England, and he would aid our escape if possible in the hope that we might be of service to him in a corresponding way by exerting ourselves on behalf of the son. Here we lived in strict and often painful seclusion for nearly fourteen months. Twice only during this long seclusion did I venture out. The first occasion was to see Napoleon enter the town, and in the concourse of eager spectators there was little probability of my coming to grief. The other opportunity occurred at the instance of a priest, the only brother of our hostess, an Abbé Martin, somewhat distinguished in his generation, who obtained a passage for us on board a drogher5 bound for Dieppe. The captain of this vessel took us as a mere speculation in the hope that if his boat were captured by any English cruiser he might be released on our account.
Our good genius was absent, and no English vessel was even seen. We returned perforce with the captain and resumed our old life.
Whitehurst had an advantage over me: he could leave the house with less risk, from his perfect knowledge of the French tongue. It had been a scheme of mine for a considerable period to secure a boat from the shore one night and make boldly across the Channel for England. I fretted in this constrainment and was ready for any resource that could be devised for escape; but Whitehurst opposed me, and the worthy padre shook his head when it was mentioned. I was out-voted. Nevertheless, as month after month rolled by and brought no improvement in our condition, my plan was at last reluctantly adopted. Whitehurst made a preliminary examination of the coast and the position and number of the boats. He ascertained one important and very satisfactory piece of information—namely, that no men were allowed to sleep on board any of the vessels or boats. The news of itself was sufficient encouragement to our enterprise. We had to wait until the wind and tide had become jointly auspicious, and then we sallied
forth under cover of the darkness with a sheet for a sail and began our excursion. After a nine-mile walk we arrived at the beach and saw a boat not far from the shore, so we stripped to our shirts and trousers and swam out to it. It was flat-bottomed and about twelve feet long. The painter was cut and we moved off, and shortly after came alongside a good-sized fishing craft. This took my fancy, and I suggested an immediate change. Whitehurst, by constitution an objector, refused to entertain my proposal. Another, nearly as favourable to our needs, came in view, and I resumed my solicitation without avail. Then a third “all cut and dried” for our very purpose. Mast and sails all ready for a start. This I could not stand, so with a growl and an oath at Whitehurst for his pains, I pulled a hard stroke that brought us into contact with the coveted prize. We had hardly touched the boat’s side when, to our dismay, up jumped half a dozen Frenchmen. We pulled away for our lives. There was a spanking breeze from the south, and we hoisted our sheet and sped away as fast as a flat-bottomed boat under difficulties could go. Our sail was a lamentable resource, and took her through the water not much faster than we could have rowed. We still had the oars at liberty, as the spars for the sail were lying in the boat when we took her, so I took them in hand, and Whitehurst steered. We were quite in sight when morning broke, and had the satisfaction of seeing the boat we had disturbed get away and follow in pursuit. It was only a question of a few hours; at about eleven o’clock they were close on our heels, and a few moments later I was being hauled into the fishing boat under a salute of as many fists as could get at me. The captain of her came to my rescue, and ordered them to desist, and I was passed aft. Whitehurst came after the saving clause had been introduced by the captain, and so was allowed to go aboard peacefully. It was late in the afternoon when we landed, and a crowd of people received us on the shore. We were led up to a respectable-looking house just as we were, with our wet shirts and trousers on, anything but a reviving spectacle. The first question put to us on getting ashore again was, “Where are your clothes?” Our reply explained a mystery which had hung over a heap of clothes discovered that morning early, unclaimed, by the edge of the sea.
Whitehurst was placed at the head of a table presided over by a functionary, when the apartment rapidly filled to excess, all anxious to have a stare at that fine-looking man. When our nationality was revealed it seemed to cause some regret at our misfortunes, the women especially showing great sympathy. What with one thing and another, in the crush I was gradually squeezed into a corner, where I awaited my turn. Whitehurst being asked in the course of examination whom his companion was, and having replied, “Lieutenant de Vaisseau,” all eyes were directed to myself, and the women now began in earnest to bestir themselves into more active demonstrations of kind feeling. One of them got a needle and thread, and applied herself on the spot to the rents in my shirt, while another devoted herself in a like manner to anything else you may like to mention. Our discarded garments from the “sea-beach shore” were brought to light, and ere we left the room of justice our appearance was quite à la mode.
The examination concluded, we were removed to prison at Caen, and there taken before the governor, where, to our almost irrepressible joy, we found the padre. I was ordered to appear first, and the padre was called upon to interpret. The ordeal was a stiff and unpleasant one. I refused to admit that I knew the names of any of the places at which we had stayed or the names of those who had given us assistance. This put the governor at last out of patience, and he made the padre ask me, “Do you mean to say that you are the second lieutenant of an English frigate, and that you do not know any of the places in France at which you have stayed during the last fourteen or fifteen months?” I maintained an obstinate denial, and the padre evidently put a word in to my credit, as I was presently dismissed without further criticism. Whitehurst must have come in for a double share of interview, as the governor kept him a very long while in his presence. Our stay here was not prolonged, and short as it was we managed to conciliate our keeper, because he despatched us from Caen as “English prisoners” enfenille de route, and not as “deserters,” which would have subjected us to the inconvenience of chains. We were ordered to the prison at Verdun, the questionable celebrity of which had reached us already.
1811
On the following day our long march commenced. Owing to our lengthy confinement we had become bad walkers, and could scarcely keep up with the convicts who formed the companions of our march. Indeed by the time we had reached our first halt, Whitehurst and I were completely done up.
There was no inn this time for accommodation, but a square unsightly building containing one door and one window, the latter defying all hope. There was only one room for convicts and the rest of us, twelve in number, but plenty of space and very little straw. Two sides were boarded like a guard-house for the purpose of sleeping on; the floor was composed of stoneflags; a large round tub devoted to sanitary purposes stood in one corner. One principal feature in the place contributed in no small degree to our felicity. The boards provided for our repose were almost concealed under a cloak of vermin of the vilest description. This prevented us, tired as we were, from entertaining any idea of sleep, and so we determined to remain standing. But nature was not to be superseded. I began to fail in my strength, and finally was obliged to declare to Whitehurst that vermin or no vermin I must lie down, and down I went. I was aroused by Whitehurst after a slight rest. “For goodness sake, Jackson,” he said, “get up, you’re literally swarming with lice.” Up I jumped and tried to shake off the pests, while the convicts, enjoying our misery, laughed and joked heartily. They were not so dainty in their tastes and seemed to care nothing for these filthy hosts.
In the morning we were brought round to the front of the prison and supplied with large kids of soup and a horn and a wooden spoon for each. The latter, however, happened to be short in number, and we were glad to obtain for ourselves in any way we could some of this slush, which really was fitter for pigs than men. At the time we partook of this soupe as though it were a luxury, so keenly do hardships and deprivation whet the appetite. This meal being over, the gendarmes marshalled us, and we began another weary march.
We continued thus, marching from prison to prison, until we reached, where we received a pleasant surprise at finding ourselves at last in a jail which was the very picture of cleanliness. Our joy met with a repulse, however, because we were left to ourselves, Whitehurst and I, for such a weary length of time that we began to fear that we had been forgotten, and hunger now made us feel the neglect more acutely. There was nothing in our cell of any description, with the exception of what we stood in. The jailor eventually came, and food and other things followed: everything corresponding with the place and being delightfully clean. We were an exception to the prevailing rule, I grieve to say, having still about our persons many a living memorial of our late prison experiences.
It sounds revolting and nasty to an English ear to describe such a condition, but do what we would we found it impossible to keep the enemy under. Every fold and crease in our garments boasted a colony of those hideous little crawlers; and what we expelled during the day when we had an opportunity, was repaid sevenfold during the night. We could obtain no change of clothes and had to make the best of it. Here at least we might do execution with some prospect of success so long as we were permitted to remain, and we commenced a crusade without delay.
A few days’ rest at———and our prospects darkened. More dirty prisons awaited us; and in one where we were incarcerated for a week, another kind of plague revealed itself. Instead of lice, we had to war against a larger and more elastic foe. The room alloted to us and the others was capacious, full of dirty beds, and alive with fleas. Variety may be charming, but I confess I shrank from the contact of those ravenous little vampires, and would have almost preferred the infliction to which we had already become habituated.
Whitehurst was as loath as myself to encounter them, but necessity deprived us of any choice in the matt
er, so we braced up our energies to fresh herculean tasks. In the morning we easily procured brooms and a bucket and access to a pump, when to the amazement of our fellow-prisoners, who appeared in succession resentful, bewildered, and finally tickled beyond endurance, we doused about the water and rubbed and scrubbed until we almost flooded the apartment. We repeated this for three mornings, and succeeded in getting a night’s uninterrupted rest before we left, our idle companions deriving an unappreciated benefit from our labours.
This idea of cleanliness was quite an abstract one with them, and nothing contributed more to excite their mirth than the daily practice observed by Whitehurst and myself of alternately pumping cold water over each other. A Russian amongst them afforded a slight exception to the rest, and was more averse to dirt; he was an amusing fellow, and would scrape off his living tormentors whenever we were on the eve of quitting a prison and solemnly dedicate them to the next occupier.
The masters of the prisons were as indulgent as their limited powers would permit them to be. The custom of waiting in ranks for the turn of the spoon, when articles of this description were scarce, was an ordeal as unpleasant as any to which we were subjected; and on some occasions it was positively insupportable—the spoon bearing unmistakable signs of its transit through a dozen abominable stages.
The soup was always brought out into the middle of the yard, contained in a great kid or tub, and the rush made at it resembled the conduct of a pack of hounds rather than a gang of human beings. I never see a number of hungry pigs being fed now, but the spectacle recalls to my mind the scene in the prison yard. Fastidious persons suffering from delicate stomachs would derive a salutary cure after a few months’ experience such as we encountered. The vicissitudes of our march from Caen to Verdun were extended over a period of two months, the length of our detention at the intermediate prisons varying with circumstances.