O'BRIEN FIGHTS A DUEL WITH A FRENCH OFFICER, AND PROVES THAT THE GREAT
ART OF FENCING IS KNOWING NOTHING ABOUT IT--WE ARRIVE AT OUR NEW
QUARTERS, WHICH WE FIND VERY SECURE.
At night we arrived at a small town, the name of which I forget. Here
we were all put into an old church for the night, and a very bad night
we passed. We were afraid to lie down anywhere as, like all ruined
buildings in France, the ground was covered with filth, and the smell
was shocking. At daybreak, the door of the church was again opened by
the French soldiers, and we were conducted to the square of the town,
where we found the troops quartered. As the French officers walked
along our ranks to look at us, I perceived among them a captain, whom we
had known very intimately when we were living at Cette with Colonel
O'Brien. I cried out his name immediately; he turned round, and seeing
O'Brien and me, he came up to us, shaking us by the hand, and expressing
his surprise at finding us in such a situation. O'Brien explained to
him how we had been treated, at which he expressed his indignation, as
did the other officers who had collected round us. The major who
commanded the troops in the town turned to the French officer (he was
only a lieutenant) who had conducted us from Toulon, and demanded of him
his reason for behaving to us in such an unworthy manner. He denied
having treated us ill, and said that he had been informed that we had
put on officers' dresses which did not belong to us. At this O'Brien
declared that he was a liar, and a cowardly _foutre_, that he had struck
him with the back of his sabre, which he dared not have done if he had
not been a prisoner; adding, that all he requested was satisfaction for
the insult offered to him, and appealed to the officers whether, if it
were refused, the lieutenant's epaulets ought not to be cut off his
shoulders. The major commandant and the officers retired to consult,
and, after a few minutes, they agreed that the lieutenant was bound to
give the satisfaction required. The lieutenant replied that he was
ready; but, at the same time, did not appear to be very willing. The
prisoners were left in charge of the soldiers, under a junior officer,
while the others, accompanied by O'Brien, myself, and the lieutenant,
walked to a short distance outside of the town. As we proceeded there,
I asked O'Brien with what weapons they would fight.
"I take it for granted," replied he, "that it will be with the small
sword."
"But," said I, "do you know anything about fencing?"
"Devil a bit, Peter; but that's all in my favour."
"How can that be?" replied I.
"I'll tell you, Peter. If one man fences well, and another is but an
indifferent hand at it, it is clear that the first will run the other
through the body; but if the other knows nothing at all about it, why,
then, Peter, the case is not quite so clear: because the good fencer is
almost as much puzzled by your ignorance as you are by his skill, and
you become on more equal terms. Now, Peter, I've made up my mind that
I'll run that fellow through the body, and so I will, as sure as I am an
O'Brien."
"Well, I hope you will; but pray do not be too sure."
"It's feeling sure that will make me able to do it, Peter. By the blood
of the O'Briens! didn't he slap me with his sword, as if I were a clown
in the pantomime--Peter, I'll kill the harlequin scoundrel, and my
word's as good as my bond!"
By this time we had arrived at the ground. The French lieutenant
stripped to his shirt and trowsers; O'Brien did the same, kicking his
boots off, and standing upon the wet grass in his stockings. The swords
were measured, and handed to them: they took their distance, and set to.
I must say that I was breathless with anxiety; the idea of losing
O'Brien struck me with grief and terror. I then felt the value of all
his kindness to me, and would have taken his place, and have been run
through the body, rather than he should have been hurt. At first,
O'Brien put himself in the correct attitude of defence, in imitation of
the lieutenant, but this was for a very few seconds: he suddenly made a
spring, and rushed on his adversary, stabbing at him with a velocity
quite astonishing, the lieutenant parrying in his defence, until at last
he had an opportunity of lounging at O'Brien. O'Brien, who no longer
kept his left arm raised in equipoise, caught the sword of the
lieutenant at within six inches of the point, and directing it under his
left arm, as he rushed in, passed his own through the lieutenant's body.
It was all over in less than a minute the lieutenant did not live
half-an-hour afterwards. The French officers were very much surprised
at the result, for they perceived at once that O'Brien knew nothing of
fencing. O'Brien gathered a tuft of grass, wiped the sword, which he
presented to the officer to whom it belonged, and thanking the major and
the whole of them for their impartiality and gentlemanlike conduct, led
the way to the square, where he again took his station in the ranks of
the prisoners.
Shortly after, the major commandant came up to us, and asked whether we
would accept of our parole, as, in that case, we might travel as we
pleased. We consented, with many thanks for his civility and kindness;
but I could not help thinking at the time, that the French officers were
a little mortified at O'Brien's success, although they were too
honourable to express the feeling.
I had almost forgot to say, that on our return after the duel, the
cutter's midshipman called out to O'Brien, requesting him to state to
the commandant that he was also an officer; but O'Brien replied, that
there was no evidence for it but his bare word. If he were an officer,
he must prove it himself, as everything in his appearance flatly
contradicted his assertion.
"It's very hard," replied the midshipman, "that because my jacket's a
little tarry or so, I must lose my rank."
"My dear fellow," replied O'Brien, "it's not because your jacket's a
little tarry; it is because what the Frenchman call your _tout ensemble_
is quite disgraceful in an officer. Look at your face in the first
puddle, and you'll find that it would dirty the water you look into."
"Well, it's very hard," replied the midshipman, "that I must go on
eating this black rye bread; and very unkind of you."
"It's very kind of me, you spalpeen of the _Snapper_. Prison will be a
paradise to you, when you get into good commons. How you'll relish your
grub by-and-by! So now shut your pan, or by the tail of Jonah's whale,
I'll swear you're a Spaniard."
I could not help thinking that O'Brien was very severe upon the poor
lad, and I expostulated with him afterwards. He replied, "Peter, if, as
a cutter's midshipman, he is a bit of an officer, the devil a bit is he
of a gentleman, either born or bred; and I'm not bound to bail every
blackguard-looking chap that I meet. By the head of St. Peter, I would
blush to be seen in his company, if I were in the wildest bog in
Ireland, with nothing but an old crow as spectator."
We were now again permitted to be on our parole, and received every
attention and kindness from the different officers who commanded the
detachments which passed the prisoners from one town to the other. In a
few days we arrived at Montpelier, where we had orders to remain a short
time until directions were received from government as to the depots for
prisoners to which we were to be sent. At this delightful town we had
unlimited parole, not even a gendarme accompanying us. We lived at the
_table d'hote_, were permitted to walk about where we pleased, and
amused ourselves every evening at the theatre. During our stay there,
we wrote to Colonel O'Brien at Cette, thanking him for his kindness, and
narrating what had occurred since we parted I also wrote to Celeste,
enclosing my letter unsealed in the one to Colonel O'Brien. I told her
the history of O'Brien's duel, and all I could think would interest her;
how sorry I was to have parted from her; that I never would forget her;
and trusted that some day, as she was only half a Frenchwoman, that we
should meet again. Before we left Montpelier, we had the pleasure of
receiving answers to our letters: the colonel's letters were very kind,
particularly the one to me, in which he called me his dear boy, and
hoped that I should soon rejoin my friends, and prove an ornament to my
country. In his letter to O'Brien, he requested him not to run me into
useless danger--to recollect that I was not so well able to undergo
extreme hardship. The answer from Celeste was written in English; but
she must have had assistance from her father, or she could not have
succeeded so well. It was like herself, very kind and affectionate; and
also ended with wishing me a speedy return to my friends, who must (she
said) be so fond of me, that she despaired of ever seeing me more, but
that she consoled herself as well as she could with the assurance that I
should be happy. I forgot to say that Colonel O'Brien, in his letter to
me, stated that he expected immediate orders to leave Cette, and take
the command of some military post in the interior, or join the army, but
which he could not tell; that they had packed up everything, and he was
afraid that our correspondence must cease, as he could not state to what
place we should direct our letters.
I must here acquaint the reader with a circumstance which I forgot to
mention, which was, that when Captain Savage sent in a flag of truce
with our clothes and money, I thought that it was but justice to O'Brien
that they should know on board of the frigate the gallant manner in
which he had behaved. I knew that he never would tell himself, so, ill
as I was at the time, I sent for Colonel O'Brien, and requested him to
write down my statement of the affair, in which I mentioned how O'Brien
had spiked the last gun, and had been taken prisoner by so doing,
together with his attempting to save me. When the colonel had written
all down, I requested that he would send for the major who first entered
the fort with the troops, and translate it to him in French. This he
did in my presence, and the major declared every word to be true. "Will
he attest it, colonel, as it may be of great service to O'Brien?" The
major immediately assented. Colonel O'Brien then enclosed my letter,
with a short note from himself, to Captain Savage.
In ten days, we received an order to march on the following morning.
The sailors, among whom was our poor friend the midshipman of the
_Snapper_ cutter, were ordered to Verdun; O'Brien and I, with eight
masters of merchant vessels, who joined us at Montpelier, were directed
by the government to be sent to Givet, a fortified town in the
department of Ardennes. But, at the same time, orders arrived from
government to treat the prisoners with great strictness, and not to
allow any parole. It was exactly four months from the time of our
capture, that we arrived at our destined prison at Givet.
"Peter," said O'Brien, as he looked hastily at the fortifications and
the river which divided the two towns, "I see no reason, either English
or French, that we should not eat our Christmas dinner in England. I've
a bird's-eye view of the outside, and now have only to find out
whereabouts we may be in the inside."
I must say that, when I looked at the ditches and high ramparts, I had a
different opinion; so had a gendarme who was walking by our side, and
who had observed O'Brien's scrutiny, and who quietly said to him in
French, "_Vous le croyez possible_?"
"Everything is possible to a brave man--the French armies have proved
that," answered O'Brien.
"You are right," replied the gendarme, pleased with the compliment to
his nation; "I wish you success, you will deserve it; but--" and he
shook his head.
"If I could obtain a plan of the fortress," said O'Brien, "I would give
five Napoleons for one;" and he looked at the gendarme.
"I cannot see any objection to an officer, although a prisoner, studying
fortification," replied the gendarme. "In two hours you will be within
the walls; and now I recollect, in the map of the two towns, the
fortress is laid down sufficiently accurately to give you an idea of it.
But we have conversed too long." So saying, the gendarme dropped into
the rear.
In a quarter of an hour we arrived at the Place d'Armes, where we were
met, as usual, by another detachment of troops, and drummers, who
paraded us through the town previous to our being drawn up before the
governor's house. As we stopped at the governor's house, the gendarme
who had left us in the square, made a sign to O'Brien, as much as to
say, I have it. O'Brien took out five Napoleons, which he wrapped in
paper and held in his hand. In a minute or two, the gendarme came up
and presented O'Brien with an old silk handkerchief, saying, "_Votre
mouchoir, monsieur_."
"Merci," replied O'Brien, putting the handkerchief which contained the
map into his pocket; "_voici a boire, mon ami_;" and he slipped the
paper with the five Napoleons into the hand of the gendarme, who
immediately retreated.
This was very fortunate for us, as we afterwards discovered that a mark
had been put against O'Brien's and my name, not to allow parole or
permission to leave the fortress, even under surveillance.