O'Brien receives his commission as lieutenant, and then we take French
leave of Givet.
If I doubted the practicability of escape when I examined the exterior,
when we were ushered into the interior of the fortress, I felt that it
was impossible, and I stated my opinion to O'Brien. We were conducted
into a yard surrounded by a high wall; the buildings appropriated for
the prisoners were built with _lean-to_ roofs on one side, and at each
side of the square was a sentry looking down upon us. It was very much
like the dens which they now build for bears, only so much larger.
O'Brien answered me with a "Pish! Peter, it's the very security of the
place which will enable us to get out of it. But don't talk, as there
are always spies about who understand English."
We were shown into a room allotted to six of us; our baggage was
examined, and then delivered over to us. "Better and better, Peter,"
observed O'Brien, "they've not found it out!"
"What?" inquired I.
"Oh, only a little selection of articles, which might be useful to us
by-and-by."
He then showed me what I never before was aware of: that he had a false
bottom to his trunk; but it was papered over like the rest, and very
ingeniously concealed. "And what is there, O'Brien?" inquired I.
"Never mind; I had them made at Montpelier. You'll see by-and-by."
The others, who were lodged in the same room, then came in, and after
staying a quarter of an hour, went away at the sound of the dinner-bell.
"Now, Peter," said O'Brien, "I must get rid of my load. Turn the key."
O'Brien then undressed himself, and when he threw off his shirt and
drawers, showed me a rope of silk, with a knot at every two feet, about
half-an-inch in size, wound round and round his body. There were about
sixty feet of it altogether. As I unwound it, he, turning round and
round, observed, "Peter, I've worn this rope ever since I left
Montpelier, and you've no idea of the pain I have suffered; but we must
go to England, that's decided upon."
When I looked at O'Brien, as the rope was wound off, I could easily
imagine that he had really been in great pain; in several places his
flesh was quite raw from the continual friction, and after it was all
unwound, and he had put on his clothes, he fainted away. I was very much
alarmed, but I recollected to put the rope into the trunk, and take out
the key, before I called for assistance. He soon came to, and on being
asked what was the matter, said that he was subject to fits from his
infancy. He looked earnestly at me, and I showed him the key, which was
sufficient.
For some days O'Brien, who really was not very well, kept to his room.
During this time, he often examined the map given him by the gendarme.
One day he said to me, "Peter, can you swim?"
"No," replied I; "but never mind that."
"But I must mind it, Peter; for observe, we shall have to cross the
river Meuse, and boats are not always to be had. You observe, that this
fortress is washed by the river on one side: and as it is the strongest
side, it is the least guarded--we must escape by it. I can see my way
clear enough till we get to the second rampart on the river, but when we
drop into the river, if you cannot swim, I must contrive to hold you up,
somehow or another."
"Are you then determined to escape, O'Brien? I cannot perceive how we
are even to get up this wall, with four sentries staring us in the
face."
"Never do you mind that, Peter, mind your own business; and first tell
me, do you intend to try your luck with me?"
"Yes," replied I, "most certainly; if you have sufficient confidence in
me to take me as your companion."
"To tell you the truth, Peter, I would not give a farthing to escape
without you. We were taken together, and, please God, we'll take
ourselves off together; but that must not be for this month; our
greatest help will be the dark nights and foul weather."
The prison was by all accounts very different from Verdun and some
others. We had no parole, and but little communication with the
townspeople. Some were permitted to come in and supply us with various
articles; but their baskets were searched to see that they contained
nothing that might lead to an escape on the part of the prisoners.
Without the precautions that O'Brien had taken, any attempt would have
been useless. Still, O'Brien, as soon as he left his room, did obtain
several little articles--especially balls of twine--for one of the
amusements of the prisoners was flying kites. This, however, was put a
stop to, in consequence of one of the strings, whether purposely or
not, I cannot say, catching the lock of the musket carried by one of
the sentries who looked down upon us, and twitching it out of his hand;
after which an order was given by the commandant for no kites to be
permitted. This was fortunate for us, as O'Brien, by degrees,
purchased all the twine belonging to the other prisoners; and, as we
were more than three hundred in number, it amounted to sufficient to
enable him, by stealth, to lay it up into very strong cord, or rather,
into a sort of square plait, known only to sailors. "Now, Peter," said
he one day, "I want nothing more than an umbrella for you."
"Why an umbrella for me?"
"To keep you from being drowned with too much water, that's all."
"Rain won't drown me."
"No, no, Peter; but buy a new one as soon as you can."
I did so. O'Brien boiled up a quantity of bees' wax and oil, and gave it
several coats of this preparation. He then put it carefully away in the
ticking of his bed. I asked him whether he intended to make known his
plan to any of the other prisoners; he replied in the negative, saying,
that there were so many of them who could not be trusted, that he
would trust no one. We had been now about two months in Givet, when a
Steel's List was sent to a lieutenant, who was confined there. The
lieutenant came up to O'Brien, and asked him his Christian name.
"Terence, to be sure," replied O'Brien.
"Then," answered the lieutenant, "I may congratulate you on your
promotion, for here you are upon the list of August."
"Sure there must be some trifling mistake; let me look at it. Terence
O'Brien, sure enough; but now the question is, has any other fellow
robbed me of my name and promotion at the same time? Bother, what can it
mane? I won't belave it--not a word of it. I've no more interest than a
dog who drags cats'-meat."
"Really, O'Brien," observed I, "I cannot see why you should not be made;
I am sure you deserve your promotion for your conduct when you were
taken prisoner."
"And what did I do then, you simple Peter, but put you on my back as the
men do their hammocks when they are piped down; but, barring all claim,
how could any one know what took place in the battery, except you, and
I, and the armourer, who lay dead? So explain that, Peter, if you can."
"I think I can," replied I, after the lieutenant had left us. And I then
told O'Brien how I had written to Captain Savage, and had had the fact
attested by the major who had made us prisoners.
"Well, Peter," said O'Brien, after a pause, "there's a fable about a
lion and a mouse. If, by your means, I have obtained my promotion, why
then the mouse is a finer baste than the lion; but instead of being
happy, I shall now be miserable until the truth is ascertained one way
or the other, and that's another reason why I must set off to England as
fast as I can."
For a few days after this O'Brien was very uneasy; but fortunately
letters arrived by that time; one to me from my father, in which he
requested me to draw for whatever money I might require, saying that the
whole family would retrench in every way to give me all the comfort
which might be obtained in my unfortunate situation. I wept at his
kindness, and more than ever longed to throw myself in his arms, and
thank him. He also told me that my uncle William was dead, and that
there was only one between him and the title, but that my grandfather
was in good health, and had been very kind to him lately. My mother was
much afflicted at my having been made a prisoner, and requested I would
write as often as I could. O'Brien's letter was from Captain Savage; the
frigate had been sent home with despatches, and O'Brien's conduct
represented to the Admiralty, which had, in consequence, promoted him to
the rank of lieutenant. O'Brien came to me with the letter, his
countenance radiant with joy as he put it into my hands. In return I put
mine into his, and he read it over.
"Peter, my boy, I'm under great obligations to you. When you were
wounded and feverish, you thought of me at a time when you had quite
enough to think of yourself; but I never thank in words. I see your
uncle William is dead. How many more uncles have you?"
"My uncle John, who is married, and has already two daughters."
"Blessings on him; may he stick to the female line of business! Peter,
my boy, you shall be a lord before you die."
"Nonsense, O'Brien; I have no chance. Don't put such foolish ideas in my
head."
"What chance had I of being a lieutenant, and am I not one? Well, Peter,
you've helped to make a lieutenant of me, but I'll make a _man_ of you,
and that's better. Peter, I perceive, with all your simplicity, that
you're not over and above simple, and that, with all your asking for
advice, you can think and act for yourself on an emergency. Now, Peter,
these are talents that must not be thrown away in this cursed hole, and
therefore, my boy, prepare yourself to quit this place in a week, wind
and weather permitting; that is to say, not fair wind and weather, but
the fouler the better. Will you be ready at any hour of any night that I
call you up?"
"Yes, O'Brien, I will, and do my best."
"No man can do much more that ever I heard of. But, Peter, do me one
favour, as I am really a lieutenant, just touch your hat to me only
once, that's all; but I wish the compliment, just to see how it looks."
"Lieutenant O'Brien," said I, touching my hat, "have you any further
orders?"
"Yes, sir," replied he; "that you never presume to touch your hat to me
again, unless we sail together, and then that's a different sort of
thing."
About a week afterwards, O'Brien came to me, and said, "The new moon's
quartered in with foul weather; if it holds, prepare for a start. I have
put what is necessary in your little haversack; it may be to-night. Go
to bed now, and sleep for a week if you can, for you'll get but little
sleep, if we succeed, for the week to come."
This was about eight o'clock. I went to bed, and about twelve I was
roused by O'Brien, who told me to dress myself carefully, and come down
to him in the yard. I did so without disturbing any body, and found the
night as dark as pitch (it was then November), and raining in torrents;
the wind was high, howling round the yard, and sweeping in the rain in
every direction as it eddied to and fro. It was some time before I could
find O'Brien, who was hard at work; and, as I had already been made
acquainted with all his plans, I will now explain them. At Montpelier he
had procured six large pieces of iron, about eighteen inches long, with
a gimlet at one end of each, and a square at the other, which fitted to
a handle which unshipped. For precaution he had a spare handle, but each
handle fitted to all the irons. O'Brien had screwed one of these pieces
of iron between the interstices of the stones of which the wall was
built, and sitting astride on that, was fixing another about three feet
above. When he had accomplished this, he stood upon the lower iron, and
supporting himself by the second, which about met his hip, he screwed in
a third, always fixing them about six inches on one side of the other,
and not one above the other. When he had screwed in his six irons, he
was about half up the wall, and then he fastened his rope, which he had
carried round his neck, to the upper iron, and lowering himself down,
unscrewed the four lower irons: then ascending by the rope, he stood
upon the fifth iron, and supporting himself by the upper iron,
recommenced his task. By these means he arrived in the course of an hour
and a half to the top of the wall, where he fixed his last iron, and
making his rope fast, he came down again. "Now, Peter," said he, "there
is no fear of the sentries seeing us; if they had the eyes of cats, they
could not until we were on the top of the wall; but then we arrive at
the glacis, and we must creep to the ramparts on our bellies. I am going
up with all the materials. Give me your haversack--you will go up
lighter; and recollect, should any accident happen to me, you run to bed
again. If, on the contrary, I pull the rope up and down three or four
times, you may sheer up it as fast as you can." O'Brien then loaded
himself with the other rope, the two knapsacks, iron crows, and other
implements he had procured; and, last of all, with the umbrella. "Peter,
if the rope bears me with all this, it is clear it will bear such a
creature as you are, therefore don't be afraid." So whispering, he
commenced his ascent; in about three minutes he was up, and the rope
pulled. I immediately followed him, and found the rope very easy to
climb, from the knots at every two feet, which gave me a hold for my
feet, and I was up in as short a time as he was. He caught me by the
collar, putting his wet hand on my mouth, and I lay down beside him
while he pulled up the rope. We then crawled on our stomachs across the
glacis till we arrived at the rampart. The wind blew tremendously, and
the rain pattered down so fast, that the sentries did not perceive us;
indeed, it was no fault of theirs, for it was impossible to have made us
out. It was some time before O'Brien could find out the point exactly
above the drawbridge of the first ditch; at last he did--he fixed his
crow-bar in, and lowered down the rope. "Now, Peter, I had better go
first again; when I shake the rope from below, all's right." O'Brien
descended, and in a few minutes the rope again shook; I followed him,
and found myself received in his arms upon the meeting of the
drawbridge; but the drawbridge itself was up. O'Brien led the way across
the chains, and I followed him. When we had crossed the moat, we found a
barrier gate locked; this puzzled us. O'Brien pulled out his picklocks
to pick it, but without success; here we were fast. "We must undermine
the gate, O'Brien; we must pull up the pavement until we can creep
under." "Peter, you are a fine fellow; I never thought of that." We
worked very hard until the hole was large enough, using the crow-bar
which was left, and a little wrench which O'Brien had with him. By these
means we got under the gate in the course of an hour or more. This gate
led to the lower rampart, but we had a covered way to pass through
before we arrived at it. We proceeded very cautiously, when we heard a
noise: we stopped, and found that it was a sentry, who was fast asleep,
and snoring. Little expecting to find one here, we were puzzled; pass
him we could not well, as he was stationed on the very spot where we
required to place our crow-bar to descend the lower rampart into the
river. O'Brien thought for a moment. "Peter," said he, "now is the time
for you to prove yourself a man. He is fast asleep, but his noise must
be stopped. I will stop his mouth, but at the very moment that I do so
you must throw open the pan of his musket, and then he cannot fire it."
"I will, O'Brien; don't fear me." We crept cautiously up to him, and
O'Brien motioning to me to put my thumb upon the pan, I did so, and the
moment that O'Brien put his hand upon the soldier's mouth, I threw open
the pan. The fellow struggled, and snapped his lock as a signal, but of
course without discharging his musket, and in a minute he was not only
gagged but bound by O'Brien, with my assistance. Leaving him there, we
proceeded to the rampart, and fixing the crow-bar again, O'Brien
descended; I followed him, and found him in the river, hanging on to the
rope; the umbrella was opened and turned upwards; the preparation made
it resist the water, and, as previously explained to me by O'Brien, I
had only to hold on at arm's length to two beckets which he had affixed
to the point of the umbrella, which was under water. To the same part
O'Brien had a tow-line, which taking in his teeth, he towed me down with
the stream to about a hundred yards clear of the fortress, where we
landed. O'Brien was so exhausted that for a few minutes he remained
quite motionless; I also was benumbed with the cold. "Peter," said he,
"thank God we have succeeded so far; now must we push on as far as we
can, for we shall have daylight in two hours." O'Brien took out his
flask of spirits, and we both drank a half tumbler at least, but we
should not in our state have been affected with a bottle. We now walked
along the river-side till we fell in with a small craft, with a boat
towing astern: O'Brien swam to it, and cutting the painter without
getting in, towed it on shore. The oars were fortunately in the boat. I
got in, we shoved off, and rowed away down the stream till the dawn of
day. "All's right, Peter; now we'll land. This is the Forest of
Ardennes." We landed, replaced the oars in the boat, and pushed her off
into the stream, to induce people to suppose that she had broken adrift,
and then hastened into the thickest of the wood. It still rained hard; I
shivered, and my teeth chattered with the cold, but there was no help
for it. We again took a dram of spirits, and, worn out with fatigue and
excitement, soon fell fast asleep upon a bed of leaves which we had
collected together.