I go away on service, am wounded and taken prisoner with O'Brien--
Diamond cut diamond between the O'Briens--Get into comfortable quarters
--My first interview with Celeste.
And now I have to relate an event, which, young as I was at the time,
will be found to have seriously affected me in after life. How little do
we know what to-morrow may bring forth! We had regained our station, and
for some days had been standing off and on the coast, when one morning
at daybreak, we found ourselves about four miles from the town of Cette,
and a large convoy of vessels coming round a point. We made all sail in
chase, and they anchored close in shore, under a battery, which we did
not discover until it opened fire upon us. The shot struck the frigate
two or three times, for the water was smooth, and the battery nearly
level with it. The captain tacked the ship, and stood out again, until
the boats were hoisted out, and all ready to pull on shore and storm the
battery. O'Brien, who was the officer commanding the first cutter on
service, was in his boat, and I again obtained permission from him to
smuggle myself into it.
"Now, Peter, let's see what kind of a fish you'll bring on board this
time," said he, after we had shoved off: "or may be, the fish will not
let you off quite so easy." The men in the boat all laughed at this, and
I replied, "That I must be more seriously wounded than I was last time,
to be made a prisoner." We ran on shore, amidst the fire of the
gunboats, who protected the convoy, by which we lost three men, and made
for the battery, which we took without opposition, the French
artillery-men running out as we ran in. The directions of the captain
were very positive, not to remain in the battery a minute after it was
taken, but to board the gunboats, leaving only one of the small boats,
with the armourer to spike the guns, for the captain was aware that
there were troops stationed along the coast, who might come down upon us
and beat us off. The first lieutenant, who commanded, desired O'Brien to
remain with the first cutter, and after the armourer had spiked the
guns, as officer of the boat he was to shove off immediately. O'Brien
and I remained in the battery with the armourer, the boat's crew being
ordered down to the boat, to keep her afloat, and ready to shove off at
a moment's warning. We had spiked all the guns but one, when all of a
sudden a volley of musketry was poured upon us, which killed the
armourer, and wounded me in the leg above the knee. I fell down by
O'Brien, who cried out, "By the powers! here they are, and one gun not
spiked." He jumped down, wrenched the hammer from the armourer's hand,
and seizing a nail from the bag, in a few moments he had spiked the gun.
At this time I heard the tramping of the French soldiers advancing, when
O'Brien threw away the hammer, and lifting me upon his shoulders, cried,
"Come along, Peter, my boy," and made for the boat as fast as he could;
but he was too late; he had not got half way to the boat, before he was
collared by two French soldiers, and dragged back into the battery. The
French troops then advanced, and kept up a smart fire: our cutter
escaped, and joined the other boat, who had captured the gun-boats and
convoy with little opposition. Our large boats had carronades mounted in
their bows, and soon returned the fire with round and grape, which drove
the French troops back into the battery, where they remained, popping at
our men under cover, until most of the vessels were taken out; those
which they could not man were burnt.
In the meantime, O'Brien had been taken into the battery, with me on his
back; but as soon as he was there, he laid me gently down, saying,
"Peter, my boy, as long as you were under my charge, I'd carry you
through thick and thin; but now that you are under the charge of these
French beggars, why let them carry you. Every man his own bundle, Peter,
that's fair play, so if they think you're worth the carrying, let them
bear the weight of ye."
"And suppose they do not, O'Brien, will you leave me here?"
"Will I lave you, Peter! not if I can help it, my boy; but they won't
leave you, never fear them; prisoners are so scarce with them, that they
would not leave the captain's monkey, if he were taken."
As soon as our boats were clear of their musketry, the commanding
officer of the French troops examined the guns in the battery, with the
hope of reaching them, and was very much annoyed to find that every one
of them was spiked. "He'll look sharper than a magpie before he finds a
clear touch-hole, I expect," said O'Brien, as he watched the officer.
And here I must observe, that O'Brien showed great presence of mind in
spiking the last gun; for had they had one gun to fire at our boats
towing out the prizes, they must have done a great deal of mischief to
them, and we should have lost a great many men; but in so doing, and in
the attempt to save me, he sacrificed himself, and was taken prisoner.
When the troops ceased firing, the commanding officer came up to
O'Brien, and looking at him, said, "Officer?" to which O'Brien nodded
his head. He then pointed to me--"Officer?" O'Brien nodded his head
again, at which the French troops laughed, as O'Brien told me
afterwards, because I was what they called an _enfant_, which means an
infant. I was very stiff, and faint, and could not walk. The officer who
commanded the troops left a detachment in the battery, and prepared to
return to Cette, from whence they came. O'Brien walked, and I was
carried on three muskets by six of the French soldiers--not a very
pleasant conveyance at any time, but in my state excessively painful.
However, I must say, that they were very kind to me, and put a great
coat or something under my wounded leg, for I was in an agony, and
fainted several times. At last they brought me some water to drink. O
how delicious it was! I have often thought since, when I have been in
company, where people fond of good living have smacked their lips at
their claret, that if they could only be wounded, and taste a cup of
water, they would then know what it was to feel a beverage grateful. In
about an hour and a half, which appeared to me to be five days at the
least, we arrived at the town of Cette, and I was taken up to the house
of the officer who commanded the troops, and who had often looked at me
as I was carried there from the battery, saying, "_Pauvre enfant_!" I
was put on a bed, where I again fainted away. When I came to my senses,
I found a surgeon had bandaged my leg, and that I had been undressed.
O'Brien was standing by me, and I believe that he had been crying, for
he thought that I was dead. When I looked him in the face, he said,
"Pater, you baste, how you frightened me: bad luck to me if ever I take
charge of another youngster. What did you sham dead for?"
"I am better now, O'Brien," replied I, "how much I am indebted to you:
you have been made prisoner in trying to save me."
"I have been made prisoner in doing my duty, in one shape or another. If
that fool of an armourer hadn't held his hammer so tight, after he was
dead, and it was of no use to him, I should have been clear enough, and
so would you have been! but, however, all this is nothing at all, Peter;
as far as I can see, the life of a man consists in getting into scrapes,
and getting out of them. By the blessing of God, we've managed the
first, and by the blessing of God we'll manage the second also; so be
smart, my honey, and get well, for although a man may escape by running
away on two legs, I never heard of a boy who hopped out of a French
prison upon one."
I squeezed the offered hand of O'Brien, and looked round me; the surgeon
stood at one side of the bed, and the officer who commanded the troops
at the other. At the head of the bed was a little girl about twelve
years old, who held a cup in her hand, out of which something had been
poured down my throat. I looked at her, and she had such pity in her
face, which was remarkably handsome, that she appeared to me as an
angel, and I turned round as well as I could, that I might look at her
alone. She offered me the cup, which I should have refused from any one
but her, and I drank a little. Another person then came into the room,
and a conversation took place in French.
"I wonder what they mean to do with us," said I to O'Brien.
"Whist, hold your tongue," replied he; and then he leaned over me, and
said in a whisper, "I understand all they say; don't you recollect, I
told you that I learnt the language after I was kilt and buried in the
sand, in South America?" After a little more conversation, the officer
and the others retired, leaving nobody but the little girl and O'Brien
in the room.
"It's a message from the governor," said O'Brien, as soon as they were
gone, "wishing the prisoners to be sent to the gaol in the citadel, to
be examined; and the officer says (and he's a real gentleman, as far as
I can judge) that you're but a baby, and badly wounded in the bargain,
and that it would be a shame not to leave you to die in peace; so I
presume that I'll part company from you very soon."
"I hope not, O'Brien," replied I; "if you go to prison, I will go also,
for I will not leave you, who are my best friend, to remain with
strangers; I should not be half so happy, although I might have more
comforts in my present situation."
"Pater, my boy, I am glad to see that your heart is in the right place,
as I always thought it was, or I wouldn't have taken you under my
protection. We'll go together to prison, my jewel, and I'll fish at the
bars with a bag and a long string, just by way of recreation, and to
pick up a little money to buy you all manner of nice things; and when
you get well, you shall do it yourself, mayhap you'll have better luck,
as Peter your namesake had, who was a fisherman before you. There's
twice as much room in one of the cells as there is in a midshipman's
berth, my boy; and the prison yards, where you are allowed to walk, will
make a dozen quarter-decks, and no need of touching your hat out of
respect when you go into it. When a man has been cramped up on board of
a man-of-war, where midshipmen are stowed away like pilchards in a cask,
he finds himself quite at liberty in a prison, Peter. But somehow or
another, I think we mayn't be parted yet, for I heard the officer (who
appears to be a real gentleman, and worthy to have been an Irishman
born) say to the other, that he'd ask the governor for me to stay with
you on parole, until you are well again." The little girl handed me the
lemonade, of which I drank a little, and then I felt very faint again. I
laid my head on the pillow, and O'Brien having left off talking, I was
soon in a comfortable sleep. In an hour I was awakened by the return of
the officer, who was accompanied by the surgeon. The officer addressed
O'Brien in French who shook his head as before.
"Why don't you answer, O'Brien," said I, "since you understand him?"
"Peter, recollect that I cannot speak a word of their lingo; then I
shall know what they say before us, and they won't mind what they say,
supposing I do not understand them."
"But is that honest, O'Brien?"
"Is it honest you mean? If I had a five-pound note in my pocket, and
don't choose to show it to every fellow that I meet--is that dishonest?"
"To be sure it's not."
"And a'n't that what the lawyers call a case in pint?"
"Well," replied I, "if you wish it, I shall of course say nothing; but I
think that I should tell them, especially as they are so kind to us."
During this conversation, the officer occasionally spoke to the surgeon,
at the same time eyeing us, I thought, very hard. Two other persons then
came into the room; one of them addressed O'Brien in very bad English,
saying, that he was interpreter, and would beg him to answer a few
questions. He then inquired the name of our ship, number of guns, and
how long we had been cruising. After that, the force of the English
fleet, and a great many other questions relative to them; all of which
were put in French by the person who came with him, and the answer
translated, and taken down in a book. Some of the questions O'Brien
answered correctly, to others he pleaded ignorance; and to some, he
asserted what was not true. But I did not blame him for that, as it was
his duty not to give information to the enemy. At last they asked my
name, and rank, which O'Brien told them. "Was I noble?"
"Yes," replied O'Brien.
"Don't say so, O'Brien," interrupted I.
"Peter, you know nothing about it, you are grandson to a lord."
"I know that, but still I am not noble myself, although descended from
him; therefore pray don't say so."
"Bother! Pater, I have said it, and I won't unsay it; besides, Pater,
recollect it's a French question, and in France you would be considered
noble. At all events, it can do no harm."
"I feel too ill to talk, O'Brien; but I wish you had not said so."
They then inquired O'Brien's name, which he told them; his rank in the
service, and also, whether he was noble.
"I am an O'Brien," replied he; "and pray what's the meaning of the O
before my name, if I'm not noble? However, Mr Interpreter, you may add,
that we have dropped our title because it's not convanient." The French
officer burst out into a loud laugh, which surprised us very much. The
interpreter had great difficulty in explaining what O'Brien said; but as
O'Brien told me afterwards, the answer was put down _doubtful_.
They all left the room except the officer, who then, to our
astonishment, addressed us in good English. "Gentlemen, I have obtained
permission from the governor for you to remain in my house, until Mr
Simple is recovered. Mr O'Brien, it is necessary that I should receive
your parole of honour that you will not attempt to escape. Are you
willing to give it?"
O'Brien was quite amazed; "Murder an' Irish," cried he; "so you speak
English, colonel. It was not very genteel of you not to say so,
considering how we've been talking our little secrets together."
"Certainly, Mr O'Brien, not more necessary," replied the officer,
smiling, "than for you to tell me that you understood French."
"O, bother!" cried O'Brien, "how nicely I'm caught in my own trap!
You're an Irishman, sure?"
"I'm of Irish descent," replied the officer, "and my name, as well as
yours, is O'Brien. I was brought up in this country, not being permitted
to serve my own, and retain the religion of my forefathers. I may now be
considered as a Frenchman, retaining nothing of my original country,
except the language, which my mother taught me, and a warm feeling
towards the English wherever I meet them. But to the question, Mr
O'Brien, will you give your parole?"
"The word of an Irishman, and the hand to boot," replied O'Brien,
shaking the colonel by the hand; "and you're more than doubly sure, for
I'll never go away and leave little Peter here; and as for carrying him
on my back, I've had enough of that already."
"It is sufficient," replied the colonel. "Mr O'Brien, I will make you as
comfortable as I can; and when you are tired of attending your friend,
my little daughter shall take your place. You'll find her a kind little
nurse, Mr Simple."
I could not refrain from tears at the colonel's kindness: he shook me by
the hand; and telling O'Brien that dinner was ready, he called up his
daughter, the little girl who had attended me before; and desired her to
remain in the room. "Celeste," said he, "you understand a little
English; quite enough to find out what he is in want of. Go and fetch
your work, to amuse yourself when he is asleep." Celeste went out, and
returning with her embroidery, sat down by the head of the bed: the
colonel and O'Brien then quitted the room. Celeste then commenced her
embroidery, and as her eyes were cast down upon her work, I was able to
look at her without her observing it. As I said before, she was a very
beautiful little girl; her hair was light brown, eyes very large, and
eyebrows drawn as with a pair of compasses; her nose and mouth were also
very pretty; but it was not so much her features as the expression of
her countenance, which was so beautiful, so modest, so sweet, and so
intelligent. When she smiled, which she almost always did when she
spoke, her teeth were like two rows of little pearls.
I had not looked at her long, before she raised her eyes from her work,
and perceiving that I was looking at her, said, "You want--something--
want drink--I speak very little English."
"Nothing, I thank ye," replied I; "I only want to go to sleep."
"Then--shut--your--eye," replied she smiling; and she went to the
window, and drew down the blinds to darken the room. But I could not
sleep; the remembrance of what had occurred--in a few hours wounded, and
a prisoner--the thought of my father and mother's anxiety; with the
prospect of going to a prison and close confinement, as soon as I was
recovered, passed in succession in my mind, and, together with the
actual pain of my wound, prevented me from obtaining any rest. The
little girl several times opened the curtain to ascertain whether I
slept or wanted anything, and then as softly retired. In the evening,
the surgeon called again; he felt my pulse, and directing cold
applications to my leg, which had swelled considerably, and was becoming
very painful, told Colonel O'Brien, that, although I had considerable
fever, I was doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances.
But I shall not dwell upon my severe sufferings for a fortnight, after
which the ball was extracted; nor upon how carefully I was watched by
O'Brien, the colonel, and little Celeste, during my peevishness and
irritation, arising from pain and fever. I feel grateful to them, but
partiqularly [sic] to Celeste, who seldom quitted me for more than
half-an-hour, and, as I gradually recovered, tried all she could to
amuse me.