"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."
SHAKESPEARE.
As the reader may have before now occasionally heard comments upon the
uncertainty of the moon and of the sea, and also, perhaps of human life,
I shall not venture any further remarks upon the subject; for were they
even new, I should never have the credit of them. This is certain, that
instead of finding themselves, as they anticipated to be in the next
twenty-four hours, safely moored in the port of Plymouth, Newton and his
comrades found themselves, before that time had elapsed, safely locked
up in the prison of Morlaix. But we must not proceed so fast.
Although the _Estelle_ had squared her mainyard as a signal of
submission, the privateer's men, as they ranged their vessel alongside,
thought it advisable to pour in a volley of musketry; this might have
proved serious, had it not been that Newton and his crew were all down
below, hoping to secure a few changes of linen, which, in a prison,
might prove very useful. As it was, their volley only killed the
remaining French prisoner, who remained on deck, over-joyed at the
recapture, and anticipating an immediate return to his own country; by
which it would appear that the "_L'homme propose, mais Dieu dispose_" of
France, is quite as sure a proverb as the more homely "Many a slip
between cup and lip" of our own country.
The boat of the privateer was sent on board: a dozen men, with their
cutlasses flourishing over their heads, leapt on the deck of the
_Estelle_, and found nobody to exercise their valour upon, except the
body of their departed comrade; upon which they shouted for the "Sacré's
God dams" to "monter." Newton and the rest obeyed the summons, with their
bundles in their hands; the latter they were soon relieved of by their
conquerors, who, to prove that it was not out of "_politesse_" that
they carried their effects, at the same time saluted them with various
blows with their cutlasses upon their backs and shoulders. Newton, who felt
that resistance would only be an excuse for further aggression, bore with
philosophy what he could not prevent, and hastened into the boat. The
convicts also took their share with patience--they had been accustomed to
"many stripes." Roberts and Williams, in spite of the remonstrances of
Newton, with all the reckless spirit or English, sailors, would not submit
so quietly. The first object which attracted Roberts' attention, as he came
up the ladder, was the body of the remaining French prisoner.
"What! Johnny, so you're gone! Didn't I tell you that your turn would
come next? I say, my hearties, you keep all your bullets for your
friends," continued Roberts, addressing the privateer's men.
A few "sacrés" and "f----s" was the reply, as one of them attempted to
twitch his bundle out of his hand.--"Hold fast there, old chap, don't
take what you never paid for."
A scuffle now ensued; which ended in Roberts, who found that he could
not retain possession, shying his bundle at the foremost man, with such
force as to lay him on the deck.--"Well, if you will have it, take it,"
cried Roberts.
"The beggars have chopped my fingers," growled Williams. "I say,
Mounseer, don't make quite so free with that iron of yours, or I'll
smash your top-lights."
"I wish I had three on 'em on Point Beach, one up and one down. I'd
sarve you out, you d--d frog-eating sea-cooks!" said Roberts, squaring
at the privateer's men with clenched fists.
This obstreperous conduct produced a shower of blows with the backs of
the cutlasses. Williams, in a rage, wrenched a cutlass from one of the
Frenchmen, and laid about him; while Roberts, with his fists, rushed
within their guards, and laid two of them at his feet. At last they were
overpowered and thrown into the boat, bleeding profusely from various
cuts which they had received in the unequal scuffle. The privateer's
people then shoved off and rowed on board of the schooner.
As soon as Newton and the other Englishmen were up the side, they were
pushed aft; their persons were then searched, and every part of their
apparel, which appeared to be of good materials, or little worn, was
taken from them. Collins, the convict, was a good prize; he had put on
shirt over shirt, stocking over stocking, and trousers over trousers,
that the Frenchmen began to wonder if ever they should arrive at the
"inner man." At last, he was uncased, an old pair of trousers thrown to
him, and he was left without any other garment, shivering in the cold.
Newton, who still retained his waistcoat and shirt, took off the former,
and gave it to the convict, who whispered as he thanked him, "I don't
care a fig, they have left me my old hat." As soon as the recapture was
manned, the privateer bore up for the French coast, and before morning
anchored in the rocky harbour of Morlaix. At daylight, the prisoners,
who had received no refreshment, were handed into a boat, and on their
landing, conducted by a party of _gens d'armes_ to the prison. During
their progress to their place of confinement Collins excited the
amusement of the bystanders, and the surprise of his fellow-prisoners,
by walking with his hands and arms raised in a certain position. After
they had been locked up, he went to the barred window, and continued the
same gestures to the people who were crowded about the prison, most of
whom continued their mockery. Newton, who came forward to the window to
request a little water for Roberts and Williams, who wished to quench
their thirst and wash their wounds, which had not been dressed, inquired
of Collins his reasons for so doing. "It is for your benefit as well as
mine," replied Collins; "at least I hope so. There are freemasons in all
countries."
A few minutes afterwards, one of the people outside came forward, and
pointed out to the sentry that the prisoners were making signs for
water. The _gendarme_, who had paid no attention to Newton, listened to
the appeal of his countryman, who, upon the grounds of common humanity,
persuaded him to allow them such a necessary boon. The water was
brought, and, as the man walked away, a sign, unperceived by all but
Collins, gave him to understand that his appeal had been understood.
"All's right," said Collins to Newton, as he quitted the grating. "We
have friends without, and we have _friends_ within." In about an hour
some bread was brought in, and among those who brought it Collins
perceived the person who had answered his signal; but no further
recognition took place. At noon the door of the prison was again
unbarred, and a surgeon came to dress the wounded men. He was
accompanied by two or three others, deputed by the governor of the town
to obtain intelligence, and the new acquaintance of Collins appeared as
interpreter. While the surgeon dressed the wounds of Roberts and
Williams, which, although numerous, were none of any importance, many
questions were asked, and taken down when interpreted. Each prisoner was
separately interrogated; Collins was one of the first examined. The
questions put and answers given were carefully intermixed with more
important matter. The person who acted as interpreter spoke English too
well for a Frenchman: apparently he was a Dane or Russian, who was
domiciliated there. He commenced with--
"No one understands English but me--but they are suspicious: be
careful.--What is your name?"
"John Collins."
"Comment?" said the French amanuensis, "John Co--lin. _C'est bien;
continuez._"
"What is your rank--_and in your Lodge_?"
"Common seaman--_master_," answered Collins, adroitly.
"Comment?" said the party with his pen.
"Matelot," replied the interpreter.
"Demandez-lui le nom du bâtiment."
"What is the name of your ship?--_how can we assist you?_"
"_Terpsichore--a boat, with provisions._"
"Comment?"
"Frégate croiseur _Terpsichore_."
"Does she sail well?--_at what time?_"
"_To night, with a guide._"
"Que dit-il?"
"Elle marche bien avec le vent large."
"Demandez-lui la force."
"What number of guns?--_how can you get out?_"
"Thirty-six guns.--_I have the means._"
"Trente-six canons."
"Trente-six canons," repeated the Frenchman, writing; "c'est
bien--alors, l'équipage."
"How many men?--_I will be here at dark._"
"Two hundred and seventy men; but many away in prizes."
"Deux cents soixante-dix hommes-d'équipage; mais il y a beaucoup dans
les bâtimens pris."
Newton and the others were also interrogated, the names taken down, and
the parties then quitted the prison.
"Now, if we make a push for it, I think we may get off," said Collins to
Newton and the rest, after the door had closed. "I never saw the prison
in England which could hold me when I felt inclined to walk out of it;
and as for their bars, I reckon them at about an hour's work. I never
travel without my little friends;"--and Collins, taking off his old hat,
removed the lining, and produced a variety of small saws made from
watch-springs, files, and other instruments. "Then," continued he, "with
these, and this piece of tallow stuck outside my hat, I will be through
those bars in no time. French iron ar'n't worth a d--n, and the sentry
sha'n't hear me if he lolls against them; although it may be just as
well if Thompson tips us a stave, as then we may work the faster."
"I say, Bill," observed Hillson, "who is your friend?"
"I don't know--he may be the governor; but this I do know, for the
honour of freemasonry, we may trust him and all like him; so just mind
your own business, Tom."
"He said he would be here at dark," observed Newton.
"Yes,--I must prepare--go to the grating, some of you, that they may not
look in upon me."
This unexpected prospect of deliverance created an anxious joy in the
breasts of the prisoners; the day appeared interminable. At last, the
shades of night set in, and a clouded sky with mizzling rain raised
their hopes. The square in front of the prison was deserted, and the
sentinel crouched close against the door, which partially protected him
from the weather. In a few minutes a person was heard in conversation
with the sentinel. "He must be coming now," observed Collins in a low
tone; "that must be one of his assistants who is taking off the
attention of the _gens d'arme_."
"Make no noise," said a voice in a whisper, at the outside of the bars.
"I am here," replied Collins, softly.
"How can you get out of the prison?"
"Get the sentry out of the way when we leave off singing; the bars will
then be removed."
"Everything is prepared outside. When you get out, keep close under the
wall to the right. I shall be at the corner, if I am not here."
The freemason then retired from the grating.
"Now, Thompson, not too loud, there's no occasion for it; two of us can
work."
Thompson commenced his song; Newton took a small saw from Collins, who
directed him how to use it. The iron bars of the prison yielded like wood
to the fine-tempered instruments which Collins employed. In an hour and a
half three of the bars were removed without noise, and the aperture was
wide enough for their escape. The singing of Thompson, whose voice was
tolerably good, and ear very correct, had not only the effect of preventing
their working being heard, but amused the sentinel, who remained with his
back to the wall listening to the melody.
Their work was so far accomplished. Thompson ceased, and all was silence
and anxiety; in a few minutes the sentinel was again heard in
conversation, and the voices receded, as if he had removed to a greater
distance.
"Now, brother," said the low voice under the aperture.
In a minute the whole of the prisoners were clear of the walls, and
followed their guide in silence, until they reached the landing-place.
"There is the boat, and provisions sufficient," said the freemason, in a
low tone; "you will have to pass the sentries on the rocks: but we can
do no more for you. Farewell, brother; and may you and your companions
be fortunate!" So saying, their friendly assistant disappeared.
The night was so dark, that although close to the boat, it was with
difficulty that its outlines could be discerned. Newton, recommending
the strictest silence and care in entering, stepped into it, and was
followed by the rest. Roberts, whose eyesight was a little affected from
the wounds in his head, stumbled over one of the oars.
"_Qui vive?_" cried out one of the sentries on the rock.
No answer was made; they all remained motionless in their seats. The
sentry walked to the edge of the rock and looked down; but not
distinguishing anything, and hearing no further noise, returned to his
post.
For some little while Newton would not allow them to move: the oars were
then carefully lifted over the gunnel, and their clothes laid in the
rowlocks, to muffle the sound; the boat was pushed from the
landing-place into the middle of the narrow inlet. The tide was ebbing,
and with their oars raised out of the water, ready to give way if
perceived, they allowed the boat to drift out of one of the narrow
channels which formed the entrance of the harbour.
The rain now beat down fast: and anxious to be well clear of the coast
before daylight, Newton thought they might venture to pull. The oars
were taken by him and Collins; but before they had laid them three times
in the water, one of the sentries, hearing the noise, discharged his
musket in the direction.
"Give way, now, as hard as we can," cried Newton; "it's our only
chance."
Another and another musket was fired. They heard the guard turned out;
lights passing on the batteries close to them, and row-boats manning.
They double-banked their oars, and, with the assistance of the ebb-tide
and obscurity, they were soon out of gun-shot. They then laid in their
oars, shipped their mast, and sailed away from the coast.
It was nine o'clock in the evening when they started, and at daylight
the French coast was not to be seen. Overjoyed at their escape, they
commenced an attack upon the provisions and a small keg of wine; and
perhaps a more joyful breakfast never was made. The sun rose in vapour,
the sky threatened, but they were free and happy. The wind freshened, and
the boat flew before the gale; the running seas topping over her stern and
forcing them continually to bale her out; but all was joy, and freedom
turned their "danger to delight." They passed several vessels at a
distance, who did not observe them; and before sunset the English coast was
in sight. At ten o'clock the double lights on the Lizard were on their
starboard bow. They hauled up upon the larboard tack with the ebb-tide, and
having passed the Lizard, kept away for Mount's Bay, to avoid the chance of
falling in with any of the king's vessels, and being again impressed. At
daylight they ran in under St Michael's Mount, and once more stepped upon
English ground. Here, as by previous agreement, they divided the
provisions, and took farewell of each other.
"Good-bye, gentlemen," said Collins; "allow me to observe that, for
once, you may think yourselves fortunate in having been placed in my
very respectable company!"