by Dean King
The gendarmes were now gathered round the spot, and in the confusion the East Indian seized a favourable opportunity and eluded his captor, getting clear away to the appointed place where Beamish was expecting us, from whom he derived the benefit intended for me. Seeing the game up, I made for the room again and was snug under the bedclothes when the jailor opened the door. Appearances are deceptive. So thought the jailor, I presume, for he approached the bed and drew off the sheets, of course discovering me habited for a journey. “Ah,” he exclaimed, “I knew you had a hand in it; I was sure that nobody thought of breaking out unless you put it into their heads.”
This little affair brought the lieutenant of the gendarmes down about the middle of the night, perhaps called from the enjoyment of a pleasant party, as he was in anything but a mild humour. I was the main object of his strictures, and he spared no pains to convince me of his displeasure. He said, “You have given us all a great deal of trouble, Mr Jackson; I have already doubled the sentries on your account, and now I must add fresh precautions. I have therefore given them strict injunctions, should you repeat to-night’s experiment, to fire at you without hesitation, and I leave it entirely at the discretion of the jailor to place you or not in the black hole.”
“And I, sir,” I retorted, “beg to inform you that I have not had my parole, and despite all your threats I am determined to escape if I can—whether your sentries fire or not.”
The jailor didn’t presume upon his authority, but allowed me to go quickly to bed. The only penalty I suffered after all was being called upon to pay for the damage done to the rotten planks. A fresh accession to our small circle in the prison of Porte Chaussée was soon made by new-comers in two relays. On arrival of the second batch we were put under orders for Bitche6.
This intelligence instilled fresh energy into me, and after dinner, on the day when it was received, I stood up and addressed them in my room as follows—they were six in number: “Gentlemen, we are all of us bound for Bitche; there is a prospect of escape if you like to take advantage of it.” A man named L’Estrange7, a lieutenant of the 71st Foot, immediately exclaimed, “I will,” I then requested the music-master to play on the piano which one of the prisoners was allowed to keep in the room, and to select the loudest piece he could choose. All hands then proceeded at my instigation to make a rope out of the sheets. It was rapidly done, and each wound a portion of it round his body beneath his clothes.
The prisoners in the adjoining room were indulging in a somewhat boisterous mirth, and so between them and the piano, upon which our friend was doing most laudable execution, we had plenty of noise.
The rope disposed of, we rang for the jailor and supplied him with the usual reason for allowing us to leave the room. We gained by this means access into the next compartment, where I had previously scented out another spot in the planks above; and we would be left here until we chose to summon the jailor to reconduct us to our own quarters, not so conveniently appointed. I arrested the conviviality for a moment to introduce the subject in contemplation, and it was gladly accepted nem. con. I then begged them to continue their jollification, and to sing and shout as if nothing was in the wind.
To prevent surprise I asked a doctor who was present, a very timid man, to watch the gratings in the door, and when the jailor or his wife approached to pop out his head and call for a jug of beer. This post he accepted, and I set to. The plank was started in a few minutes, and I was shoving away with all my heart, when I heard sundry smothered remarks on all sides, such as “Hush, hush, Jackson.” I, not dreaming of danger, merely turned my head for a moment, when lo, the poor cowardly doctor had bolted, and the jailor’s wife was calmly watching my proceedings from the deserted gratings. Down I dropped like a stone from my eminence, and tried hard to look unconcerned, with very lame results I am afraid. The jailor came and restored us to our proper places, and the question arose what should be done with the ten ropes and how account for the missing sheets, as we were to start in the morning.
The ropes were ultimately packed into two of the midshipmen’s bags, and I undertook to manage about the sheets.
The jailor took his inventory before we left, and I explained that the sheets had been sent on an emergency to the washerwoman, but as it was not probable she would return them when she knew of our departure, I honourably offered to pay for them. This honest conduct on my part raised me considerably in the estimation of the jailor, who was perfectly contented with the arrangement and took quite an affecting leave of me.
A new system was adopted for our security on the road in the march now impending, and one not at all favourable to our ideas of pleasant locomotion. We were handcuffed in pairs, and a long chain run through all the irons—thus ensuring close quarters to all. Some of the handcuffs were small and exceedingly painful. Mine were of this character, and I suffered severely.
Our journey to Bitche was accomplished in seven days. The aspect of the place was not inviting. The prison has been described as like a ship bottom upwards in a saucer. Our new quarters were good enough, considering all things. We were packed sixteen into one room with three beds, under which the fuel was stocked. During the first night a midshipman named H. Leworthy, a tall powerful young fellow, possessing also good qualities of mind as well as of body, was my bedfellow. When he awoke in the morning he began to attack me, saying, “Hallo, Jackson, have you been bunging up my eyes in your sleep? What on earth is wrong with my face?” A general cry of “bugs” was now raised. Every one was more or less affected by their visitation except me. This time, marvellous to say, for I was generally marked out as a signal victim to misfortune, I had unwittingly defied the enemy. How it was I can’t explain, because poor Leworthy was a mass of bites, and unable to see for them. We had been expecting this evil sooner or later as a sort of necessary sequence to our vermin troubles.
After an interval we were better accommodated. I had a room to myself and belonged to a mess of eight persons, all of whom were tacitly resolved to make our connections as pleasant as possible. We were divided from the other half of our fellow-prisoners by mutual consent, on account of a quarrel which had arisen between us and a man named C, who had played me a dirty trick soon after our arrival at the prison. It was the habit of those who could afford it to hire furniture from some dealer in the town, to replace that supplied by the authorities; and I sent for what articles I required as soon as a room had been placed at my service. Amongst the things was a French bedstead, and on its way to my quarters it was levied upon by Mr. C for his own use, and in spite of all representation he persisted in keeping possession of it. When this came to my ears I accused him of committing a mean, ungentlemanly action; and this caused no small indignation to himself and his friends. Upon this disagreement we split ourselves into different communities.
Some merchant captains, several midshipmen, an elderly gentleman—a détenu—named Throgmorton, a Mr Melville and myself constituted our mess.
Almost from the moment of our entrance I commenced to prepare for my escape. Economy was my first consideration, and in pursuit of it I made every sacrifice consistent with propriety. I wore the coarsest and commonest things and purchased nothing I could by reasonable means do without. My prison allowance was fifty francs a month, £2, Is. 8d., and upon this I managed to live, independently of my English pay which it was my object to save for an emergency. In drawing my quarterly bill I almost lost one-third of it in the exchange, which was, however, refunded to me eventually by the English government.
Our occupations and amusements at Bitche were limited to those of the most primitive nature. No gambling was tolerated amongst us; our principal recreations were out of doors, where we practised athletic and other games such as lay in our power to promote.
Bitche had been used as a prison for the lower class of English prisoners, but most of them had been removed before we had been sent there, and only sufficient left to perform the duties of servants. These were placed in the souterraines, where they reign
ed supreme and legislated for their community upon principles of their own, administering reward and punishment to all who deserved one or the other—but woe betide the offender whoever and whatever he might be. He was allowed no money, and was kicked, cuffed, or tossed in the blanket as the contingency required. The latter system of retribution was that most frequently adopted and most dreaded. The rank of a man was of no avail as soon as he appeared in the souterraines, and if any one with a voice amongst the men owed the visitor a grudge, master or no master, the latter was sure to pay the penalty. A man named Spillier was the presiding genius of this place, and to him were referred all questions of arbitration. When any remarkable act of justice was on the eve of consummation, he usually apprised me of the event. And if I felt inclined, as I am sorry to say I always was, to witness the spectacle, I repaired forthwith to the scene under his convoy. There was a lieutenant at Bitche who was an especial object of aversion to the underground community, and they never were so anxious to get a man into their power as they were to catch him. He was of an exclusive overbearing disposition, and in some way or other had raised their ire; but he was far too knowing to trespass on their limits, and so avoided their vengeance.
All through the winter I had my eye on a future plan of escape which I communicated to Mr. Throgmorton, inviting him to join me in the attempt. He, however, declined, and I then spoke to Lieutenant L’Estrange, and reminded him of an old understanding between us that if either had a practical view of escaping he should tell the other of it; and I had observed that he was in concert with two others in a design which I felt convinced would prove fruitless. He was surprised that I knew anything about it, but, like the plot at Verdun, it would have been manifest to any one who took the trouble to look at him.
I now submitted my scheme for his approval and offered to take him into league, as he could speak French and I could not. He was not able to decide at once, as he was pledged to a general in the British Army, a prisoner on parole at Verdun, in agreement for standing each other’s bail. He therefore wrote, and received a reply that the general gave him back his parole; so he was at liberty to act upon his own bottom.
My plan was greatly accelerated by an old acquaintance who had lately turned up in the person of the fellow who had broken his thigh at Verdun. I am considerably indebted to his ingenuity for my escape from Bitche. He cajoled the guards into selling to him some of their old clothes and equipment on the most plausible pretences; and so adroitly did he transact the business that none of them had the smallest apprehension of his real purpose. He obtained a cloak, a cocked hat, a cap and a greatcoat, and a large water-pitcher; and these were all we required with a little self-possession and management to effect our purpose.
During the latter end of February we intended to carry the project into execution. When the time came L’Estrange and I duly rigged ourselves out as became the occasion. He took the cocked hat and cloak, I, the more humble suit and the water-pot. It was then about half-past seven. Until eight the prisoners were allowed to visit the yard, and we went through a very ordinary form of leaving our room at that time. As we were descending the stairs we encountered Leworthy anathematising the sentry below because he would not let him pass according to custom. As his eye met mine he spared the obdurate official any further abuse, and laying hold of me in a playful manner shouted, “Hullo, Jackson, my boy, what are you up to?” “Hush, old fellow,” I said, sotte voce, “don’t be a fool, and let go that infernal grip of yours.” He caught at my meaning and intention at once, and seizing me by both hands said, “God bless you, old fellow—I wish I had your luck.” L’Estrange and I then gained the yard.
We had planned that I should take the lead until we gained a spot where we should be challenged. I therefore struck off boldly armed with my friendly water-jar, and passed No. 1 sentinel unmolested. Of course he would not trouble a comrade going to fetch water, and when L’Estrange followed with an easy and familiar air, his cocked hat looming above, it was not probable that the soldier would question the right of a French officer to go where he pleased. Nos. 2 and 3 and 4 were passed with similar success, and we were now at the entrance to a covered way that intercepted our purpose to get past the guard-room. Here L’Estrange was to precede me in order that he might answer the sentry’s challenge in a good accent. I entered already, and was half-way through when I stopped for him to pass on, but looking round I found him standing still at the end. “Come on,” I cried in as loud a whisper as I could, but he only replied, “I can’t,” and when I went back to him I found he could hardly move for laughing. This set me off. He was quite hysterical. We proceeded at length, and received the challenge—”Qui vive?” I waited for L’Estrange to reply “Ami,” but he never made a sound. The challenge was repeated more vigorously still: L’Estrange held his peace. On the impulse of the moment I gave the word myself, for there was no other alternative left or they would have been down on us. For once in my life I must have spoken French like a native, as the sentry passed us on. L’Estrange still followed, and we made down the slope which carried us to the covered bomb-proof passage, and left another danger behind us. The most ticklish moment was at hand. I advanced to the gate, but the sentry put his arm before me, and I thought we were lost, when L’Estrange boldly approached, spoke a word or two to the sentry, who released me, and we were free. About two or three hundred yards from the gate we passed close to the sergeant of the guard, who in the darkness gave us no heed.
The snow was now falling. All the better for us. We put our best foot foremost and rushed on in concert. We reached Sarreguemines about four o’clock. I was now in another guise, having discarded the friendly coat and cap, which I deposited in a ditch, where it must have soon been covered with snow. I appeared as a gentleman in full French costume, which I had lately procured direct from Paris, feeling sure that an imposing appearance would be more useful to me than the wretched one I had hitherto been compelled to present in like undertakings. My coat was a well-cut snuff-coloured one, buff-coloured waistcoat, pepper-and-salt breeks, and white top-boots. A man followed us, but vanished on seeing L’Estrange’s cocked hat.
We pushed through Sorbey and applied for admission at a public-house; we were taken in and shown to a large room containing two beds, covered with what I took to be huge bundles. L’Estrange jumped into bed without much premeditation, but I hesitated and sat on a chair looking dismal. There did not appear to be any sheets or blankets—nothing but that uncouth ugly lump of a thing.
“Jump into bed, man,” said L’Estrange.
“But what’s the use?” I remarked. “I am cold and tired, and there is nothing to make me warm.”
“What? Get under this quilt like me.”
“Quilt,” I ejaculated, “call that a quilt?”
“Try it,” he resumed; and I did so sulkily, and oh, the joy, my grief was turned to ecstasy—it was an eider-down quilt and as warm as could be. I had never seen such a thing in my life before.
After a capital sleep I got up and asked the landlord for horses to Metz. After breakfast we started, with an attendant on a third horse, there being two feet of snow on the ground. We had not gone far when we reached the crown of a hill and noticed a gendarme escorting an English prisoner to Verdun. This brought us to a halt; however, we put confidence in the guide, telling him that we wished to avoid the party. He at once “twigged,” and consented to follow out our views; and taking a sharp turn out of the road, he led us by a short cut to Metz. My horse was not in any trim for a long journey, and fell on his knees again and again.
On our arrival at Metz, we dismissed our guide with the horses and sought an hotel. We played our parts as travelling gentlemen and procured a voiture to Etain, a place not far from Verdun. When close to Verdun we separated, and L’Estrange, being dressed in the uniform of a French officer, walked up to the gates of the town and entered with a military baggage waggon. Not having a parole ticket I was inadmissible, and therefore remained outside depending upon L’Estrange’s
good offices with my friends at Verdun. Every officer on parole, when he leaves the town, deposits his ticket with the gate-keeper and reclaims it on return.
I hung dodging about the walls, and not long after L’Estrange’s disappearance I saw two wholesome-looking figures approach from the town. I divined them to be Englishmen at once, and when they came near accosted them. They were such, and without telling them of my position, I merely asked them if they would carry a message for me into Verdun to a friend named Conn, and say that someone was waiting for him outside. The answer I promptly received was: “Take the message yourself,” and they walked off. “Well, you’re a couple of ungracious beasts,” I grumbled to myself as they left me, and I began to cudgel my brains as to what should be done next, when I observed that they had returned and were coming back towards me. I was in no humour to come into collision with such bears, and was on the point of avoiding them when one of the two advanced and said, “Was it a meeting, sir, you desired me to promote with Mr. Conn?” Catching at his meaning I disavowed any such intention, and added that, if I was not wrong in thinking that I spoke to two English gentlemen, I would acquaint them with the reason of my former request. They directly informed me of their respective names and rank. One was a major and the other a doctor in the English Army. Upon hearing this I explained that I was a lieutenant in the English Navy just escaped from Bitche, and that having no parole ticket, I was unable to get into Verdun where my friend and former messmate was at present living, and I wished to appraise him of my neighbourhood. They redeemed their former conduct by executing my commission without further hesitation, and reappeared soon after with Conn, who was surprised and delighted to see me. We had a long chat together and arranged to meet again at night, when I was to be at a certain spot under the walls, and Conn and some friends of his would be above with a rope to hand me up. At dusk we separated, and to be secure against surprise I looked out some chance place of concealment until the time appointed for the meeting. I soon found the stunted remains of an old hedge on the common, that grew from a slight elevation, formerly, I suppose, some boundary line on a bank: behind this I lay safely concealed from all stragglers.