GRAVE CONSEQUENCES OF GRAVITATION--O'BRIEN ENLISTS HIMSELF AS A
GENDARME, AND TAKES CHARGE OF ME--WE ARE DISCOVERED, AND OBLIGED TO RUN
FOR IT--THE PLEASURES OF A WINTER BIVOUAC.
It was not until noon that I awoke, when I found that O'Brien had
covered me more than a foot deep with leaves, to protect me from the
weather. I felt quite warm and comfortable; my clothes had dried on me,
but without giving me cold. "How very kind of you, O'Brien!" said I.
"Not a bit, Peter: you have hard work to go through yet, and I must take
care of you. You're but a bud, and I'm a full-blown rose." So saying,
he put the spirit-flask to his mouth, and then handed it to me. "Now,
Peter, we must make a start, for depend upon it, they will scour the
country for us; but this is a large wood, and they may as well attempt
to find a needle in a bundle of hay, if we once get into the heart of
it."
We set off, forcing our way through the thicket, for about three hours,
O'Brien looking occasionally at his pocket compass; it then was again
nearly dark, and O'Brien proposed a halt. We made up a bed of leaves
for the night, and slept much more comfortably than we had the night
before. All our bread was wet, but as we had no water, it was rather a
relief; the meat we had with us was sufficient for a week. Once more we
laid down and fell fast asleep. About five o'clock in the morning I was
roused by O'Brien, who at the same time put his hand gently over my
mouth. I sat up, and perceived a large fire not far from us. "The
Philistines are upon us, Peter," said he: "I have reconnoitred, and they
are the gendarmes. I am fearful of going away, as we may stumble upon
some more of them. I've been thinking what's best before I waked you;
and it appears to me, that we had better get up the tree, and lie
there."
At that time we were hidden in a copse of underwood, with a large oak in
the centre, covered with ivy, "I think so, too, O'Brien; shall we go up
now, or wait a little?"
"Now, to be sure, that they're eating their prog. Mount you, Peter and
I'll help you."
O'Brien shoved me up the tree, and then, waiting a little while to bury
our haversacks among the leaves, he followed me. He desired me to
remain in a very snug position, on the first fork of the tree, while he
took another amongst a bunch of ivy on the largest bough. There we
remained for about an hour, when day dawned. We observed the gendarmes
mustered at the break of day by the corporal, and then they all
separated in different directions to scour the wood. We were delighted
to perceive this, as we hoped soon to be able to get away; but there was
one gendarme who remained. He walked round the tree, looking up into
every part; but we were well concealed, and he did not discover us for
some time. At last he saw me, and ordered me to come down. I paid no
attention to him, as I had no signal from O'Brien. He walked round a
little farther, until he was directly under the branch on which O'Brien
lay. Taking up this position, he had a fairer aim at me, and levelled
his musket, saying, "_Descendez, ou je tire_." Still I continued
immovable, for I knew not what to do. I shut my eyes, however; the
musket shortly afterwards was discharged, and, whether from fear or not
I can hardly tell, I lost my hold of a sudden, and down I came. I was
stunned with the fall, and thought that I must have been wounded; and
was very much surprised, when, instead of the gendarme, O'Brien came up
to me, and asked whether I was hurt. I answered I believed not, and got
up on my legs, when I found the gendarme lying on the ground, breathing
heavily, but insensible. When O'Brien perceived the gendarme level his
musket at me, he immediately dropped from the bough, right upon his
head; this occasioned the musket to go off, without hitting me, and at
the same time the weight of O'Brien's body from such a height killed the
gendarme, for he expired before we left him. "Now, Peter," said
O'Brien, "this is the most fortunate thing in the world, and will take
us half through the country; but we have no time to lose." He then
stripped the gendarme, who still breathed heavily, and dragging him to
our bed of leaves, covered him up, threw off his own clothes, which he
tied up in a bundle, and gave to me to carry, and put on those of the
gendarme. I could not help laughing at the metamorphosis, and asked
O'Brien what he intended. "Sure, I'm a gendarme, bringing with me a
prisoner, who has escaped." When we stopped at night, my youth excited
a great deal of commiseration, especially from the females; and in one
instance I was offered assistance to escape. I consented to it, but at
the same time informed O'Brien of the plan proposed. O'Brien kept
watch--I dressed myself, and was at the open window, when he rushed in,
seizing me and declaring that he would inform the government of the
conduct of the parties. Their confusion and distress was very great.
They offered O'Brien twenty, thirty, forty Napoleons, if he would hush
it up, for they were aware of the penalty and imprisonment. O'Brien
replied that he would not accept of any money in compromise of his duty,
that after he had given me into the charge of the gendarme of the next
post, his business was at an end, and he must return to Flushing, where
he was stationed.
"I have a sister there," replied the hostess, "who keeps an inn. You'll
want good quarters and a friendly cup; do not denounce us, and I'll give
you a letter to her, which, if it does not prove of service, you can
then return and give the information."
O'Brien consented; the letter was delivered, and read to him, in which
the sister was requested, by the love she bore to the writer, to do all
she could for the bearer, who had the power of making the whole family
miserable, but had refused so to do. O'Brien pocketed the letter filled
his brandy flask, and saluting all the women, left the cabaret, dragging
me after him with a cord. We were following our route, avoiding
Malines, which was a fortified town, and at the time were in a narrow
lane, with wide ditches, full of water, on each side. At the turning of
a sharp corner we met the gendarme who had supplied O'Brien with a map
of the town of Givet, "Good morning, comrade," said he to O'Brien,
looking earnestly at him, "whom have we here?"
"A young Englishman, whom I picked up close by, escaped from prison."
"Where from?"
"He will not say; but I suspect from Givet."
"There are two who have escaped from Givet," replied he: "how they
escaped no one can imagine; but," continued he, again looking at
O'Brien, "_Avec les braves, il n'y a rien d'impossible_."
"That is true," replied O'Brien; "I have taken one, the other cannot be
far off. You had better look for him."
"I should like to find him," replied the gendarme, "for you know that to
retake a runaway prisoner is certain promotion. You will be made a
corporal."
"So much the better," replied O'Brien; "_adieu, mon ami_."
"Nay, I merely came for a walk, and will return with you to Malines,
where of course you are bound."
"We shall not get there to-night," said O'Brien, "my prisoner is too
much fatigued."
"Well, then, we will go as far as we can; and I will assist you.
Perhaps we may find the second, who, I understand, obtained a map of the
fortress by some means or another."
O'Brien observed, that the English prisoners were very liberal; that he
knew that a hundred Napoleons were often paid for assistance, and he
thought that no corporal's rank was equal to a sum that would in France
made a man happy and independent for life.
"Very true," replied the gendarme; "and let me only look upon that sum,
and I will guarantee a positive safety out of France."
"Then we understand each other," replied O'Brien; "this boy will give
two hundred--one half shall be yours, if you will assist."
"I will think of it," replied the gendarme, who then talked about
indifferent subjects, until we arrived at a small town called Acarchot,
when we proceeded to a cabaret. The usual curiosity passed over, we
were left alone, O'Brien telling the gendarme that he would expect his
reply that night or to-morrow morning. The gendarme said, to-morrow
morning. O'Brien requesting him to take charge of me, he called the
woman of the cabaret to show him a room; she showed him one or two,
which he refused, as not sufficiently safe for the prisoner. The woman
laughed at the idea, observing, "What had he to fear from a _pauvre
enfant_ like me?"
"Yet this _pauvre enfant_ escaped from Givet," replied O'Brien. "These
Englishmen are devils from their birth." The last room showed to
O'Brien suited him, and he chose it--the woman not presuming to
contradict a gendarme. As soon as they came down again, O'Brien ordered
me to bed, and went upstairs with me. He bolted the door, and pulling
me to the large chimney, we put our heads up, and whispered, that our
conversation should not be heard. "This man is not to be trusted," said
O'Brien, "and we must give him the slip. I know my way out of the inn,
and we must return the way we came, and then strike off in another
direction."
"But will he permit us?"
"Not if he can help it; but I shall soon find out his manoeuvres."
O'Brien then went and stopped the key-hole, by hanging his handkerchief
across it, and stripping himself of his gendarme uniform, put on his own
clothes; then stuffed the blankets and pillows into the gendarme's
dress, and laid it down on the outside of the bed, as if it were a man
sleeping in his clothes--indeed it was an admirable deception. He laid
his musket by the side of the image, and then did the same to my bed,
making it appear as if there was a person asleep in it of my size, and
putting my cap on the pillow. "Now, Peter, we'll see if he is watching
us. He will wait till he thinks we are asleep." The light still
remained in the room, and about an hour afterwards we heard a noise of
one treading on the stairs, upon which, as agreed, we crept under the
bed. The latch of our door was tried, and finding it open, which he did
not expect, the gendarme entered, and looking at both beds, went away.
"Now," said I, after the gendarme had gone down stairs, "O'Brien, ought
we not to escape?"
"I've been thinking of it, Peter, and I have come to a resolution that
we can manage it better. He is certain to come again in an hour or two.
It is only eleven. Now, I'll play him a trick." O'Brien then took one
of the blankets, made it fast to the window, which he left wide open,
and at the same time dissarranged the images he had made up, so as to
let the gendarme perceive that they were counterfeit. We again crept
under the bed; and as O'Brien foretold, in about an hour more the
gendarme returned; our lamp was still burning, but he had a light of his
own. He looked at the beds, perceived at once that he had been duped,
went to the open window, and then exclaimed, "_Sacre Dieu! Ils m'ont
eschappes et je ne ne suis plus corporal. Foutre! a la chasse_!" He
rushed out of the room, and in a few minutes afterwards we heard him
open the street door, and go away.
"That will do, Peter," said O'Brien, laughing; "now we'll be off also,
although there's no great hurry." O'Brien then resumed his dress of a
gendarme; and about an hour afterwards we went down, and wishing the
hostess all happiness, quitted the cabaret, returning the same road by
which we had come. "Now, Peter," said O'Brien, "we're in a bit of a
puzzle. This dress won't do any more, still there's a respectability
about it which will not allow me to put it off till the last moment."
We walked on till daylight, when we hid ourselves in a copse of trees.
Our money was not exhausted, as I had drawn upon my father for 60
pounds, which, with the disadvantageous exchange, had given me fifty
Napoleons. On the fifth day, being then six days from the forest of
Ardennes, we hid ourselves in a small wood, about a quarter of a mile
from the road. I remained there, while O'Brien, as a gendarme, went to
obtain provisions. As usual, I looked out for the best shelter during
his absence, and what was my horror at falling in with a man and woman
who lay dead in the snow, having evidently perished from the inclemency
of the weather. Just as I discovered them, O'Brien returned, and I told
him: he went with me to view the bodies. They were dressed in a strange
attire, ribands pinned upon their clothes, and two pairs of very high
stilts lying by their sides. O'Brien surveyed them, and then said,
"Peter, this is the very best thing that could have happened to us. We
may now walk through France without soiling our feet with the cursed
country."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean," said he, "that these are the people that we met near
Montpelier, who came from the landes, walking about on their stilts for
the amusement of others, to obtain money. In their own country they are
obliged to walk so. Now, Peter, it appears to me that the man's clothes
will fit me, and the girl's (poor creature, how pretty she looks, cold
in death!) will fit you. All we have to do is to practise a little, and
then away we start."
O'Brien then, with some difficulty, pulled off the man's jacket and
trowsers, and having so done, buried him in the snow. The poor girl was
despoiled of her gown and upper petticoat with every decency, and also
buried. We collected the clothes and stilts, and removed to another
quarter, where we pitched upon a hovel and took our meal. "Peter," said
O'Brien, "lie down and sleep, and I'll keep the watch. Not a word, I
will have it--down at once."
I did so, and in a very few minutes was fast asleep, for I was worn out
with cold and fatigue. Just as the day broke, O'Brien roused me; he had
stood sentry all night, and looked very haggard.
"O'Brien, you are ill," said I.
"Not a bit; but I've emptied the brandy-flask; and that's a bad job.
However, it is to be remedied."
I did not go to sleep again for some time, I was so anxious to see
O'Brien fast asleep. He went in and out several times, during which I
pretended to be fast asleep; at last it rained in torrents, and then he
laid down, and in a few minutes, overpowered by nature, he fell fast
asleep, snoring so loudly that I was afraid some one would hear us. I
then got up and watched, occasionally lying down and slumbering awhile,
and then going down to the door.