Conjectures of the prisoners as to my country and
crimes--Inferences from my chains that I had committed murder--Mr.
Ashworth and Mr. Tuthill, with Mr. Baker, rejoin me--Lieutenant
Essel dashed to pieces in attempting to descend the ramparts of
Bitche--My grief at his death--The immense height of the
ramparts--My horrible dungeon--Its revolting state of
filth--Interview with the commandant--An application to be allowed
to take the air granted for two hours a day--Meditations upon an
escape--Our efforts baffled--A Christmas night in a
dungeon--Reminiscences of home and friends--A sentinel firing on
his prisoners--I am removed to a cell with fifty prisoners--Again
removed to a higher cell with only twelve--Improved condition--Hear
of a scheme of the prisoners below to effect their escape--Contrive
to join them--Stratagem to drown the noise of
working-tools--Successful undermining--Noise in opening the third
door--Sentinels alarmed--The guards enter--Search, and discover our
engineering--Fury of the French officers--Mr. Brine, answering to
the name of O’Brien, is captured instead of me--I escape from the
dungeon and regain my own cell--Feign illness, and avoid suspicion.
As soon as I could collect my scattered senses and compose my distracted
mind, I found that I was stared at from all sides by my unhappy
countrymen, who at that moment happened to be out of their
_souterrains_, on their permission to take those few gasps of fresh air
that were essential to their being able to exist for the rest of the day
in their noxious dungeons. I could hear some of these poor fellows
questioning whether I was a British subject. “He must have been at the
head of some banditti!” said one. “He looks like it,” observed another.
“Perhaps,” remarked a third, “he is the captain of the soldiers he is
chained to.” “Very likely,” rejoined another. “At all events,” said a
fifth, “whether he is an Englishmen or a foreigner, it is clear he is
not a prisoner of war, for they never would load a prisoner of war of
any nation so heavily with chains.” In this opinion, and in this alone,
did they all agree; and I was set down by universal consent as some
daring criminal that had committed one, or even a host of atrocious
crimes. At length some of my old friends saw and recognised me. “Good
heavens!” exclaimed one, “it is our old friend O’Brien.” “But why such
chains, and with such a gang?” was the reply. None dared approach to ask
a question; and, as I afterwards found, the general inference was, that,
in my attempt to escape, I had killed some officer or soldier who had
opposed me, and that I was led here thus secured preparatory to my trial
and execution for murder.
But it was not many minutes before my old friends and companions,
Ashworth and Tuthill, found means to get at me.
I was never more thunderstruck in my life, for I had flattered myself
that they had effected their escape, and had been happy in the thought,
which had worked itself into my mind as a fact, that they had arrived
safely in England. Mr. Baker, of the merchant service, and in a short
time all my old companions, surrounded me, except poor Lieutenant Essel;
and on my anxiously inquiring for him, to my great grief was I informed
that he had been dashed to pieces in endeavouring to get over the walls,
in a fresh attempt to escape. Mr. Ashworth and Tuthill told me that
they had been arrested or recaptured about two hours after they had
parted from me in the wood. It had, in fact, been so suddenly surrounded
by soldiers and peasantry that it was impossible to escape from it. They
added that they never had been able to account for my getting clear. The
other prisoners had not taken advantage of the diversion we had made in
their favour, but had remained in the waggon.
The melancholy intelligence of my poor fellow-sufferer Essel’s violent
death was an additional pang to my misfortunes and anguish. I was
anxiously asking the particulars, when the guard came up, and angrily
drove my friends to their respective dungeons for daring to communicate
with me. I, with the Corsicans, was most unceremoniously conducted to a
different part of the fortress, called La Grosse Tête.
I shall not attempt to describe the fortress of Bitche. To give a minute
detail of its strength, _souterrains_, etc., would fill a volume. At
this moment it is sufficient for me to say that it is reckoned one of
the strongest fortifications of France, and is built on the summit of an
immensely high rock, out of which all its subterranean caves are
hollowed. It has, on one side, three ramparts. The first is from 90 to
100 feet high; the second, from 40 to 50; and the third, from 25 to 30,
with redoubts, entrenchments, and all contrivances of military
engineering, almost innumerable.[24] As I surveyed these stupendous
heights and depths, it appeared to me a physical impossibility to
escape from it, and I was filled with despair. Nothing but madness could
entertain a thought of attempting to escape. Being now arrived at the
wretched dungeon I was to inhabit, my handcuffs and chains were taken
off, and the Corsican deserters were conducted to the condemned cells.
They were, I believe, soon afterwards shot. A dismal dungeon was
unlocked, in which it seemed that I was doomed to be entombed alive.
Solitude appeared to me dreadful, and I looked upon a “living death” as
my final lot; but I found in the dungeon Mr. Worth, midshipman, and a
Captain Brine of the merchant service. The latter was one of those who
came from Verdun with me. They were on a door, which they had managed to
unhinge, and which lay as a platform to keep them out of the excrement
and wet, that were more than ankle deep: they had a little straw and a
blanket. They informed me, they had been companions of the unfortunate
Essel in the late attempt to get over the ramparts. Six of them had
broken out of their cave, had got a rope made of sheets, and were on the
point of lowering themselves down, when they were discovered and the
alarm given, which made four of them clap on the rope together, though
only strong enough to lower one at a time, or two at most; the rope, in
consequence, broke. One was dashed to pieces, and the three others--I
think their names were Nason, Potts, and Adams--so severely mangled and
bruised that little hopes were at first entertained of their recovery;
Worth and Brine were soon seized by the guards on the embrasure. The
others were then improving fast, and they expected them in the dungeon
in a few days, as soon as the surgeon had reported them well enough;
after which they would have to remain in this receptacle of filth for
thirty-one days, which was the usual time of being buried alive in the
first and most horrible gradation of our captivity. It was fifty deep
stone steps under ground, for I have often counted them, and the most
dark and intricate passages led from it to the gaoler’s house, who had
the watching and superintending of the prisoners, in conjunction with a
guard.
I had not been more than half-an-hour in this dismal and filthy abode,
when a _gendarme_ came, and desired _le nouveau arrivé_ to follow him. I
imagined it was to liberate me (that is to say, from this dungeon), and
to place me with my companions, Messrs. Ashworth and Tuthill, in one of
the caves, which was deemed a kind of indulgence, they having a bed and
fire allowed in the latter; but I was greatly in error.
I followed my guide through all the before-mentioned passages, and at
last arrived at the gaoler’s house; where I was accosted, in the
following words, by a man who wore a leathern cap and frock-coat:--
“You, sir, are the person who has given us so much trouble, and been the
cause of the _gendarmes_ having been transported to the galleys.”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“You are, sir, and merit the greatest severity that can be inflicted.”
This induced me to request to be informed what he meant.
“I mean, sir,” revociferated he, “that you deserve the severest
punishment, for not resting quietly with your guards, and for being
accessory to the punishment of them.”
I replied, “I was conscious that I had only done my duty in endeavouring
to escape from slavery, tyranny, and oppression, and every other cruelty
that could be invented.”
I showed him the marks I then had on my wrists and different parts of my
body, expressing very warmly at the same time my detestation of a
country that could countenance such treatment.
“Pray,” said he, “do you know who you are thus accosting?”
“I really do not.”
“Then, sir, I would have you to know, that I am commandant over all the
prisoners confined in this fort; that I have very great power invested
in me, and could place you, in a moment, where you would never be seen
or heard of.”
I replied, “That I was not aware he was commandant--I had not the
smallest doubt with regard to his power--was far from having a wish to
give him the least offence--that I was entirely in his power--he could
therefore act by me as he thought proper.”
He listened with great attention; became quite soft and mild; was
extremely sorry, but could not avoid punishing me. He accordingly
ordered me to be conducted back to the dungeon I had just left. My
companions procured me something to eat; and I absolutely felt happy,
although in so miserable a place, at being with my own countrymen: I had
nothing now to fear but the guillotine, or slavery in the galleys.
Thus, my mind being a little at ease, and my spirits somewhat recruited,
I gathered together a few of the scattered straws, laid myself down on
the platform that had been contrived by my comrades in adversity, and
fell fast asleep. When I awoke, the night was far advanced. My
companions, by some means or other, had procured a flint, tinder-box,
and candle, and we struck a light. They were anxious to have an account
of my adventures, with which I indulged them, and they in return
narrated to me their misfortunes and sufferings. In this manner did I
pass my first night in this horrible dungeon.
There were three, and but three, livres of my money still remaining, and
with this, by dint of bribery, we procured some brandy from the gaoler.
This stimulus we found very necessary, for the effluvium from this
noxious and pestiferous place was as strong, and almost as offensive, as
that of the last dungeon at Niederbronn, in which I had been confined
with the Corsican soldiers. We had recourse also to smoking tobacco,
which to a great degree mitigated the effects of the fetidity of this
revolting place, although it made me very sick. I now received secret
intelligence, that a Madame B--l--a--d, in the little town of Bitche,
had lately received, through the medium of my worthy friend, the Rev.
Launcelot C. Lee, an order to supply my pecuniary wants to a certain
extent; and I need not say how much this considerate and humane act of
generosity and kindness had exhilarated my drooping spirits.
I could not help expressing to my comrades my astonishment at the
immense strength and security of our dungeons. They surpassed anything I
had ever seen, or anything I had ever formed an idea of; and it seemed
to me wonderful how men could ever imagine and construct such places for
the torment and slow destruction of their fellow-creatures.
It was some time the next day before we could obtain anything whatever
to recruit exhausted nature, although our cries on the gaoler’s name, La
Roche, had been re-echoed a thousand times from the bottom of our cell.
We had taken it by turns to call out, but all of us were nearly worn
out, when the fellow came to the bars of the small hole that admitted
air; and after soliciting and praying, flattering and appealing, to all
his good qualities (Heaven forgive us for our hypocrisy!), the rogue
agreed to give us some refreshment. This he passed through the triple
bars of the hole, as he was not entrusted with the keys of the door, and
whatever he brought we eagerly devoured.
I inquired of my companions if they were never permitted to breathe
fresh air; and, to my sorrow, they replied that as yet they had never
enjoyed that indulgence. It appeared to me an impossibility to exist
many days in such a place without it. I told my fellow-sufferers that I
thought it would be advisable to solicit the indulgence by a joint
letter to the commandant, stating our situation--at the same time
requesting immediate death, if it were his intention to deprive us of
health, and so cause us to linger away, and terminate a miserable
existence by degrees.
This application had the desired effect, and we were allowed to breathe
the air every day, between the hours of eleven and one. On this the
first day, whilst respiring the air, which proved to us a relief beyond
expression, I was informed by one of the _gendarmes_, that on the day
after I had escaped, their commanding officer had issued strict orders
to the men of his corps, who had been despatched to scour the woods and
the country in search of me, that, in the event of their _finding_ me,
they were to scar and disfigure me with their sabres _au front et au
visage_, and to mutilate me in such a manner as would prove an example
to deter, in future, any British prisoner of war from attempting to
escape. This circumstance I heard frequently repeated afterwards by
others of the same corps.
Upon my putting the question to them, whether, in the event of falling
in with me, they would have actually put in execution those injunctions,
some made an evasive reply and hesitated; while others, more candid,
acknowledged that they would have been obliged to obey their orders _à
la lettre_,--and that, of course, they would have been directed to
state, in justification of such conduct, that they had no alternative,
as I would not surrender, but resisted most desperately. No entreaty
whatever could procure us any more cleanliness. We were literally worse
off than pigs or dogs.
We now again began to devise and meditate upon plans for escaping. One
proposed undermining the dungeon. I saw no prospect whatever of
succeeding in this point. I, however, was willing to try every means to
regain my liberty. Hammers and chisels with great difficulty were
procured, and we carried them always about us, as the dungeon was
ransacked every day in our absence. We hung an old coat up against that
part of the rock which we intended to begin upon. Rope was necessary to
descend the ramparts after we had got out of the dungeon; we
accordingly, through some friends, who had obtained permission to come
and see us, contrived to purchase some stout linen for shirts (which we
really much wanted), and from the shoemakers amongst the prisoners we
got, now and then, a ball of twine. We procured needles, bees’-wax,
etc., by degrees, and made a rope of four or five fathoms for each,
which we _marled_ with the remainder of the twine, and passed tight
round our bodies underneath the shirt. Our working time commenced
immediately on being locked up after breathing the fresh air. Night
would not do, as it would be necessary to have candle-light, and we
might have been seen through the bars by our sentinels.
The undermining business was found impracticable, and was consequently
dropped. Having a rope, we flattered ourselves we might, some day whilst
allowed to breathe the fresh air, be able to elude the vigilance of the
sentinels and scale the walls. However, this proved to be a plan so
difficult to accomplish that it was abandoned, and our only hope was
that we might have an opportunity of using the rope when we should be
liberated from our present dungeon and placed in another _souterrain_ or
apartment of the fortress.
Christmas night came, but without either Christmas cheer, etc., or
cheerfulness. We were reflecting upon our miseries without anything to
soothe them. The tune of “Oh, the roast beef of Old England!” would
occur to us, and visionary plum-puddings and rich sirloins would torment
the imagination. All the hospitality, mirth, and good-heartedness that
are displayed in our native isles on this festivity were vividly before
us in recollections. “_Nessun maggior dolor che ricordarsi del tempo
felice nella miseria_,” was now fully verified. Intense thought and
intense feelings overcame the frame, and I at length fell into a
profound sleep. In a short time I was suddenly roused by my friends and
violently dragged into a corner of my cell. Upon my inquiring what this
meant, I was informed that the sentinel had burnt priming through the
bars at Mr. Worth, and had snapped his musket again before I was
apprised of it; if it had gone off, the ball must have passed through my
body, as I was point-blank opposite the bars. The fellow had desired Mr.
Worth to put his candle out, and he had refused, upon which the
unfeeling wretch (perhaps intoxicated), without saying a word more, had
twice snapped his piece at him--a summary method of enforcing orders. We
soon placed ourselves where he could not hit us, even if his musket
should go off. The candle was still burning, and this fiery though
non-firing sentinel was obliged to turn suppliant, and to beg us to put
it out. All the time of his supplication he kept his piece levelled at
the candle. We had had an abundance of experience with reference to the
character of such rascals, and carefully kept out of his way. At
midnight he was relieved, and we made known his conduct to the corporal
of the guard, who rebuked him severely, and gave us permission to keep
our candle burning. What was the harm? We could hatch no treasons, and
contrive no stratagems, by a rushlight; nor were we in danger of setting
fire to a damp, vaulted, stone dungeon.
This fellow’s conduct, however, had been so outrageous that we
determined to report him to the commandant the next day, and we
endeavoured to compose ourselves for the remainder of the night,
thanking Providence that, by his musket missing fire, we had escaped his
murderous intentions.
Accordingly, during the time we were out, I made what had happened known
to the _maréchal de logis_, Monsieur Mitchell, who was second in
command. I pointed out to him the inhumanity of this wretch, in
endeavouring to deprive poor prisoners of war of their lives, who had
been placed already in the most horrible state imaginable, for having an
inch of candle burning on Christmas night. He replied with a vast deal
of _sangfroid_, “But his piece did not go off; none of you were hurt;
and where is the use of taking any more notice of it?”
_23rd January 1808._--We were, at length, conducted from the dungeon to
a miserable hole under ground, to which I descended by thirty steep
stone steps, where Messrs. Tuthill and Ashworth, with fifty of our
countrymen, were already buried alive. Here I remained, planning and
scheming everything possible to effect my escape, but in vain. I,
however, wore the rope constantly round me; yet the guards were so
watchful that I had very little hopes of ever being able to make the
intended use of it.
This continued during the months of February, March, April, May, and
June; at the expiration of which the commandant had the kindness to
allow me to go up into a small room, where there were already twelve
more. This indulgence, he had the courtesy to say, was in consequence of
my good conduct. Messrs. Tuthill, Ashworth, and Brine were of the
number. The latter wore his rope as I did, and was the only person of
the party, then in the room, who knew I had one. We became daily more
intimate from this confidence in each other; and after a vast number of
fruitless endeavours, on the 17th of July 1808 the term of our slavery
appeared to be drawing to a conclusion: I was on that day told in
confidence by one of the seamen--a young Irishman, whose name I
forget--that a party had thoughts of breaking out that night from the
_souterrain_; that he was one of them; and he informed me who the rest
were. I began to regret having ever left the cave. However, I imagined
there was a probability of getting down to them for the night. I
accordingly waited upon the heads of this party during their time for
breathing the air, and, without intimating my motives, I requested that
they would allow me to visit them in the cave, or _souterrain_, that
evening. They stared, and the oddness of the request made them suspect
that I had a knowledge of their designs. Knowing their complete
confidence in me, I did not hesitate to tell them the truth. With
everything complimentary in their opinions of me, they still refused to
comply with my request; for they assured me that they could not deviate
from their fixed plan, and that was, that none of those upstairs were to
be admitted below. The motive of this was a dread to excite suspicion,
for it was necessary to obtain permission from the _maréchal de logis_
for us to go to the lower cell, and even asking it might put the
authorities on the _qui vive_. Greatly did I feel mortified at my
exclusion from the enterprise. At the usual hour, six in the evening,
they were made to descend, in order to be locked up, but as they went
below I told them that I did not despair of joining them that evening.
After their doors had been locked, I had observed that it was the habit
of the _maréchal de logis_ to quit the fortress for some time, and this
night I anxiously watched his departure. At about half-past six I saw
him go out; at seven it was our turn to be locked up. The interval was
to me momentous--no time was to be lost. Never was I in a greater state
of anxiety. At last I went boldly up to the _gendarme_ on guard, whose
name was Buché, and told him that I had been invited to celebrate the
anniversary of an old friend’s birth-night in the _souterrain_, and
that he would oblige me greatly by allowing me to descend. He hesitated.
“Nay, my kind Monsieur Buché,” I said most civilly, “what apprehensions
can you possibly be under? Am I not by far more secure in the
_souterrain_ than in the cell upstairs?” This well-timed observation
satisfied him, and I received his permission to descend.
I immediately apprised Messrs. Tuthill, Brine, and Ashworth, of my
success, when they also persuaded the guard to let them join in
celebrating the birth-night. I was afraid that their application would
create suspicion, and prevent even my joining the party; but I was glad
to find that the very reverse was the case. My celebrity for stratagems
in effecting escapes was unhappily so great that any request I might
make immediately conjured up a host of confused suspicions; but when
poor Monsieur Buché found so many wishing to celebrate the birth-night,
he concluded that there really was a birth-night to celebrate, although
it might have struck a more sapient brain that it was rather an
absurdity for men to celebrate anything who had scarcely sufficient food
to put in their mouths.
However, it was not our business to be too curious, and I descended with
my companions. As we approached the cave, my ears were struck with the
din of merriment, which was artfully assumed in order to prevent the
sentinels hearing the noise of chisels, saws, and other tools, that I
concluded were hard at work. Some were singing or shouting, others
dancing, others were making their dogs howl and bark, and by no gentle
means; and the deception was so admirably kept up that the gaoler and
guards might have supposed that there was a boisterous saturnalia
celebrating amongst their prisoners. Before seven we were in the midst
of these “merry fellows,” and our guard locked us all in together,
laughing that we English could make ourselves so happy upon little or
nothing. We had taken a few necessaries with us for the night, which
could not be observed, in our pockets.
Our friends received us with open arms, and admired our perseverance. I
found they were getting on rapidly; the miners were very active. One
door was already forced. The second door was an immense iron one; it was
impossible to break through it; the miners had therefore worked away the
earth and rock under it. It was half-past ten before we got a hole large
enough for a small man to creep through, which enabled him to force the
bolts and bars at the opposite side and to open the door. This man,
whose name was Daly, was afterwards a navy agent, and lived at
Greenwich: he escaped from Verdun with, I believe, Dr. Clarke, and
landed safely in England. The principal obstacles were now removed in
every one’s opinion, and there remained but two slight doors more to
impede our advancing to a subterraneous passage that led out of the
fort. This was a very intricate communication, and we had to feel our
way to those slight doors, as it was dangerous to have candle-light.
Some unfortunate English prisoners, owing to treachery amongst
themselves, had been sabred in the same passage years before, in a vain
attempt to escape during the night. How valuable would a dark-lanthorn
have been now! Everybody, except the few that were appointed to force
the doors, were preparing for their escape. It was nearly midnight. Our
over-eagerness in forcing the third door shot the bolt back, which
caused a noise that was overheard by the sentinels outside. This
occasioned a general alarm to be instantly beat--all hopes were at an
end. “What unfortunate wretches!” were the only words that could be
heard, everybody endeavouring to get to his respective place before the
guards entered. Those who were all over dirt tried to strip and hide
their clothes; the confusion was great in all parts of the cave; the
running against one another, mistaking each other’s beds, and clothes,
etc., was quite ludicrous. The visitors were, of all others, worst off:
their friends, whom they came to spend the evening with, had no beds to
offer them. The doors were now opening, the guards entering, and I, who
was all over dirt, was rambling about without being able to find any
place to creep into. By accident I stumbled over a bed, and I instantly
crawled under the blankets, with my boots and all my clothes on. The
guards passed close by me, even before I had settled myself; but they
were too intent upon reaching the spot from whence they imagined they
had heard the noise. In our cave, at this time, everything was silent.
You might have heard a pin drop. Every prisoner seemed fast asleep, and
one or two were even snoring. By the guard’s light, as they passed, I
found that I had got into the bed of a servant, an American named
Clarke. He was so intolerably intoxicated (they managed that night to
get some _snique_, or brandy, smuggled in) that I was a long time before
I could rouse him; and when he was awake, I had as much difficulty in
making him understand who I was, and why I had got into his bed. I
dreaded lest the stupefied fellow might utter some ejaculation that
might expose everything. Fortunately, however, as soon as he was able to
understand what I said, he desired me to cover my face, and assisted me
to conceal myself as well as he could. It afterwards appeared that he
had gone to bed fully aware of the part he was to play the next morning,
and that he had got a little drunk to give him courage for his
enterprise; and as in drunkenness a little always leads to more, he had
at last got very drunk, under the delusion that he would recover himself
before the time of decamping arrived. This is the common self-deception,
I believe, of all incipient drunkards.
On discovering that the first door had been opened, the commanding
officer of the searching party said, with a sneer, “That he would give
us weeks to get through the next;” meaning the ponderous, massive iron
door which I have already described. On advancing a few paces, one of
the guards proclaimed, with a horrid oath, that even the iron door had
been forced. This put the officer in a furious passion, and he swore
outrageously against the “_sacrés coquins, les Anglais_,” uttering a
tirade of oaths upon his resolution to discover the chiefs of such a
horrible conspiracy. “Where are the visitors?” cried he, in a furious
voice. “Where are those who, I understand, prevailed on the _gendarmes_
to be admitted to the cell? They must be the authors of this horrible
business, or complot.”
Passion is never rational, or it would have taught this officer that
those who had been admitted as visitors for only one evening could not
have been the authors of a plot that must have been in active operation
for many days, or weeks, or even months.
The infuriated officer called over the muster-roll of the visitors, and
Tuthill, Ashworth, and O’Brien resounded from his angry lungs. I was too
old a sailor to notice the first call. The first two officers were so
indiscreet as to answer. They thought that as they were stripped and in
bed they could escape suspicion. But far different was the result. They
were ordered to get up, put on their clothes, and, under very rough
usage, they were about to be conducted to what had been my former
habitation--the dungeon. Again did the enraged officer repeat my
name--O’Brien. Poor Mr. Brine answered to the call; and he was, without
ceremony, ordered to dress, and compelled to join the other two. Again
did the name of O’Brien resound from the lips of the enraged officer;
but Mr. O’Brien had no more inclination to answer to the call than he
had had at first. The drunken servant had sufficiently recovered himself
to understand the whole scene, and he played his part with great tact. I
remained under the bed-clothes, whilst he sat up with his knees so
raised as to prevent the possibility of discovering me. He protested
that he was alone in bed; and appearances favouring his assertion, the
guards did not trouble him, but passed on to the next bed. For my part,
I saw no prospect of escaping, as the searchers were well aware of my
being below, and I was frequently on the point of jumping up and joining
my comrades, who were now put on march for the dungeon. The intoxicated
servant shrewdly observed, “That it would be time enough to join that
party when I was discovered, and that I ought to wait patiently the
result.” I found a good deal of reason in what he said, and remained
quiet. There were three or four more ringleaders (as they called them)
discovered by the clay and soil found about their garments, and the
whole were escorted to the direful dungeon. The doors were then locked,
sentinels being placed on those that had been broken open. I expected
that the guards would return to search for another set of ringleaders,
and I remained full of anxiety waiting their arrival. In the meantime, I
was of opinion that it would be as well to take my boots and clothes
off. I accordingly stripped, and concealed those that were full of earth
and dirt in different parts of the _souterrain_. Some time elapsed, yet
no return of the guards disturbed me. I composed myself as well as I
could: my bedfellow left me in full possession, and I fell into a
profound sleep.
When I awoke it was daylight. The usual hour for allowing the prisoners
to breathe the fresh air had arrived; but the doors were not opened as
before: and they were soon informed that they would be kept locked down,
until they thought proper to deliver up the names of all those who had
intended to escape on the preceding night. The prisoners laughed at such
a proposition, since there was nothing more certain than that all who
had been capable of walking would have embraced so excellent an
opportunity of regaining their liberty. On second consideration, it was
agreed to give only the names of those already in the dungeon, they
being certain of punishment. The commandant would not credit the
assertion of so small a number of names, and the _souterrain_ was kept
locked. At all events, I was sure of being missed from my room, as there
was no possibility of getting back to it. At eleven o’clock they
generally mustered us--the _gendarme_ who gave us permission to go down
was in confinement, and it appeared that he had not given the correct
names in the beginning, and had not been interrogated particularly
afterwards, which accounted for the mistake between my name and Mr.
Brine’s. However, the moment which left me no hope or possibility of
avoiding detection was quickly approaching.
At nine o’clock, the commandant, Monsieur Clement, and all the other
officers of the garrison, descended in order to ascertain the havoc that
the English prisoners had made in the engineering of the fortification.
They found, of our tools, only an old piece of a saw, one solitary
hammer, and a few chisels, and they all expressed their astonishment at
our having made such great progress through such massive obstructions in
so short a time, and with such few and bad implements. During this
investigation I had a great deal of difficulty to conceal myself; and,
although I succeeded, I knew that eventually it could not be of any use,
for that when eleven o’clock arrived my fate would be decided.
At about ten o’clock, a load of wood came for the prisoners. Permission
was then asked to have the doors opened, that they might come up and
fetch it. This was denied, and the prisoners in the rooms above were
ordered to throw the wood down to those in the dungeon, through the air
holes, but, fortunately for me, the billets were too large to pass
through the gratings. Our guards were therefore obliged to open the
_souterrain_, and allow a certain number of the prisoners to ascend, in
order to fetch the wood down. A strict guard was placed at the door.
I contrived to get some clean clothes down, which were conveyed to me
through the bars, and I concerted a plan with one of my fellow-prisoners
that were bringing the wood down, a very respectable and well-conducted
man, a serjeant of marines of H.M.S. _Magnificent_. He was to make a
particular sign, by putting his hand on the back part of his head, when
the guard’s eyes were off the door; which he did, and at that instant I
glided, or rather jumped out.
The sentinels seized me, and desired me to descend again instantly. I
asked why they did not allow me to come up, since they had just now
permitted me to go down? I told them that I did not belong to the
_souterrain_, and that I had descended merely out of curiosity to see
what the prisoners had been about the last night. I reminded those who
had been in the habit of mustering the room to which I belonged, of
their mistake, and asked them how they could possibly suppose that I
belonged to the _souterrain_? They looked at me, appeared convinced, and
seemed surprised that they could not recollect my having passed them in
my descent, begged my pardon, and allowed me to pursue my way. I reached
my own apartment, where, in a few seconds, I was indisposed, and snug in
bed. Thus did I avoid being sent to the galleys: for, after my
reiterated attempts to escape, one more detection would have consigned
me to that horrible fate.
There was no danger of my being now discovered, until the _gendarme_,
who granted me the permission, should be liberated. In the afternoon I
obtained leave to go to the dungeon, to see my poor comrades and condole
with them. They were much rejoiced at my good fortune, but feared my
trick would soon be found out. Eight days passed on: I frequently paid
those poor fellows a visit during the time. The _gendarme_ Buché was
then released, and I was obliged to keep constantly in the room when he
was on duty; and, when he came to muster us, I was covered over in bed.
They never called the names: to count heads was their method, which
suited me admirably. Five more days had passed away in a similar manner,
when we received orders to prepare for a general review, which usually
takes place once a month.
_4th August._--On this day we were all placed in ranks and minutely
inspected. It appeared to my friends and myself that I could not avoid
discovery on this occasion, as all the _gendarmes_ attended. There was
no exception or excuse of sickness to be made; if a prisoner was able to
crawl he must attend, and frequently they were carried. I took my
station in the ranks, expecting in a few minutes to be lodged with my
old companions in limbo.
The _gendarme_, whom I had so long avoided, riveted his eyes upon me. I
had received information that he was going to make known to the
commandant Clement, or to General Maisonneuve, that I had importuned him
more than the rest, and was the person who prevailed on him to let any
down. He was astonished at seeing me, having been informed that I was in
the dungeon with the others. Shortly afterwards he passed me, and I saw
him go and speak to both the above-mentioned officers: I was then
confident he had completed the business. The review took place; every
one was inspected, and some were asked several questions. I was passed
over with very little notice. I could not account for it, yet was of
opinion that they would have said something on the subject had they been
made acquainted with it. Glad was I when we were all dismissed and the
officers allowed to retire. My escape was to me unaccountable, but not
on that score the less welcome; I was, however, so confounded at my good
fortune that I had forebodings that some latent mischief was held in
reserve.
Whilst I was pacing to and fro, in an awkward dilemma, the _gendarme_
Buché approached and accosted me in these words:--
“By what miracle have you escaped from the dungeon? How, in the name of
all wonders, have you got up from the _souterrain_? I have seen you
walking about some days, although perhaps you did not see me.”
There was no mistaking his meaning, but, full of apprehensions as I was,
I resolved to put on a face of wonder at his thus presuming to address
me, and to persevere in an assertion of my ignorance of all he alluded
to.
“Pray, sir,” I replied, “and why should I be put in the dungeon?”
“My God!” he exclaimed, astonished at my effrontery, “were you not the
very person that was chiefly the occasion of my letting you and your
three companions down to visit your friends, and to celebrate the
anniversary of a birthday, as you called it?”
“You must certainly, sir, have made a mistake; it was not me,” I
rejoined with an air of offended innocence.
The man was not to be browbeaten or imposed upon in this way. He stuck
to his text, and insisted that I was the culprit; but, to my great
relief, he added that he had no desire to see me punished, for, as his
punishment was over, mine could afford him no alleviation. I was glad to
find one human being so devoid of the spirit of revenge; and yet the
fellow added that he would have told the general and commandant of me,
had not his wife persuaded him--_Anglicè_, ordered and compelled
him--not to do it. Perhaps the lady might have had some peccadilloes on
the part of her husband to resent, and was not over-grieved at the
punishment into which I had betrayed him.
I still preserved my dignified composure, and assured him that he should
lose nothing by his indulgence, and for what he had suffered in
consequence of it, for I knew the generosity of the _gentleman_ on
whose account he had been put into confinement.
At this he could retain his countenance no longer, and he burst out into
a horse-laugh in my face. I was obliged to throw off the mask. He shook
me by the hand, and we became such good friends that he even took me to
the dungeon that afternoon, to see my unfortunate companions. Nothing
could astonish them more than my appearing with this man, whom they
imagined it morally impossible to appease, as his indulgence to me had
led to his disgrace and punishment. I gave them an account of all that
had happened, and of the dialogue that had that day taken place between
him and me, upon which they all congratulated me, and styled me the most
fortunate prisoner of the fortress.