O'Brien parts company to hunt for provisions, and I have other company
in consequence of another hunt--O'Brien pathetically mourns my death and
finds me alive--We escape.
The ensuing morning we looked out anxiously for the promised assistance,
for we were not very rich in provisions, although what we had were of a
very good quality. It was not until three o'clock in the afternoon that
we perceived a little girl coming towards us, escorted by a large
mastiff. When she arrived at the copse of trees where we lay concealed,
she cried out to the dog in Dutch, who immediately scoured the wood
until he came to our hiding-place, when he crouched down at the
entrance, barking furiously, and putting us in no small dread, lest he
should attack us; but the little girl spoke to him again, and he
remained in the same position, looking at us, wagging his tail, with his
under jaw lying on the snow. She soon came up, and looking underneath,
put a basket in, and nodded her head. We emptied the basket. O'Brien
took out a napoleon and offered it to her; she refused it, but O'Brien
forced it into her hand, upon which she again spoke to the dog, who
commenced barking so furiously at us, that we expected every moment he
would fly upon us. The girl at the same time presented the napoleon, and
pointing to the dog, I went forward and took the napoleon from her, at
which she immediately silenced the enormous brute, and laughing at us,
hastened away.
"By the powers, that's a fine little girl!" said O'Brien; "I'll back her
and her dog against any man. Well, I never had a dog set at me for
giving money before, but we live and learn, Peter; now let's see what
she brought in the basket." We found hard-boiled eggs, bread, and a
smoked mutton ham, with a large bottle of gin. "What a nice little girl!
I hope she will often favour us with her company. I've been thinking,
Peter, that we're quite as well off here, as in a midshipman's berth."
"You forget you are a lieutenant."
"Well, so I did, Peter, and that's the truth, but it's the force of
habit. Now let's make our dinner. It's a new-fashioned way though, of
making a meal, lying down; but however, it's economical, for it must
take longer to swallow the victuals."
"The Romans used to eat their meals lying down, so I have read,
O'Brien."
"I can't say that I ever heard it mentioned in Ireland, but that don't
prove that it was not the case; so, Peter, I'll take your word for it.
Murder! how fast it snows again! I wonder what my father's thinking on
just at this moment."
This observation of O'Brien induced us to talk about our friends and
relations in England, and after much conversation we fell fast asleep.
The next morning we found the snow had fallen about eight inches, and
weighed down our upper blanket so much, that we were obliged to go out
and cut stakes to support it up from the inside. While we were thus
employed, we heard a loud noise and shouting, and perceived several men,
apparently armed and accompanied with dogs, running straight in the
direction of the wood where we were encamped. We were much alarmed,
thinking that they were in search of us, but on a sudden they turned off
in another direction, continuing with the same speed as before. "What
could it be?" said I, to O'Brien. "I can't exactly say, Peter; but I
should think that they were hunting something, and the only game that I
think likely to be in such a place as this are otters." I was of the
same opinion. We expected the little girl, but she did not come, and
after looking out for her till dark, we crawled into our hole and supped
upon the remainder of our provisions.
The next day, as may be supposed, we were very anxious for her arrival,
but she did not appear at the time expected. Night again came on, and we
went to bed without having any sustenance, except a small piece of bread
that was left, and some gin which was remaining in the flask. "Peter,"
said O'Brien, "if she don't come again to-morrow, I'll try what I can
do; for I've no idea of our dying of hunger here, like the two babes in
the wood, and being found covered up with dead leaves. If she does not
appear at three o'clock, I'm off for provisions, and I don't see much
danger, for in this dress I look as much of a boor as any man in
Holland."
We passed an uneasy night, as we felt convinced, either that the danger
was so great that they dared not venture to assist us, or, that being
over-ruled, they had betrayed us, and left us to manage how we could.
The next morning I climbed up the only large tree in the copse and
looked round, especially in the direction of the farm-house belonging to
the woman who had pointed out to us our place of concealment; but
nothing was to be seen but one vast tract of flat country covered with
snow, and now and then a vehicle passing at a distance on the Middelburg
road. I descended, and found O'Brien preparing for a start. He was very
melancholy, and said to me, "Peter, if I am taken, you must, at all
risks, put on your girl's clothes and go to Flushing to the cabaret. The
women there, I am sure, will protect you, and send you back to England.
I only want two napoleons; take all the rest, you will require them. If
I am not back by to-night, set off for Flushing to-morrow morning."
O'Brien waited some time longer, talking with me, and it then being past
four o'clock, he shook me by the hand, and, without speaking, left the
wood. I never felt more miserable during the whole time since we were
first put into prison at Toulon, till that moment, and, when he was a
hundred yards off, I knelt down and prayed. He had been absent two
hours, and it was quite dusk, when I heard a noise at a distance: it
advanced every moment nearer and nearer. On a sudden, I heard a rustling
of the bushes, and hastened under the blanket, which was covered with
snow, in hopes that they might not perceive the entrance; but I was
hardly there before in dashed after me an enormous wolf. I cried out,
expecting to be torn to pieces every moment, but the creature lay on his
belly, his mouth wide open, his eyes glaring, and his long tongue
hanging out of his mouth, and although he touched me, he was so
exhausted that he did not attack me. The noise increased, and I
immediately perceived that it was the hunters in pursuit of him. I had
crawled in feet first, the wolf ran in head foremost, so that we lay
head and tail. I crept out as fast as I could, and perceived men and
dogs not two hundred yards off in full chase. I hastened to the large
tree, and had not ascended six feet when they came up; the dogs flew to
the hole, and in a very short time the wolf was killed. The hunters
being too busy to observe me, I had in the meantime climbed up the trunk
of the tree, and hidden myself as well as I could. Being not fifteen
yards from them, I heard their expressions of surprise as they lifted up
the blanket and dragged out the dead wolf, which they carried away with
them; their conversation being in Dutch, I could not understand it, but
I was certain that they made use of the word "_English_." The hunters
and dogs quitted the copse, and I was about to descend, when one of them
returned, and pulling up the blankets, rolled them together and walked
away with them. Fortunately he did not perceive our bundles by the
little light given by the moon. I waited a short time and then came
down. What to do I knew not. If I did not remain and O'Brien returned,
what would he think? If I did, I should be dead with cold before the
morning. I looked for our bundles, and found that in the conflict
between the dogs and the wolf, they had been buried among the leaves. I
recollected O'Brien's advice, and dressed myself in the girl's clothes,
but I could not make up my mind to go to Flushing. So I resolved to walk
towards the farmhouse, which, being close to the road, would give me a
chance of meeting with O'Brien. I soon arrived there and prowled round
it for some time, but the doors and windows were all fast, and I dared
not knock, after what the woman had said about her husband's inveteracy
to the English. At last, as I looked round and round, quite at a loss
what to do, I thought I saw a figure at a distance proceeding in the
direction of the copse. I hastened after it and saw it enter. I then
advanced very cautiously, for although I thought it might be O'Brien,
yet it was possible that it was one of the men who chased the wolf in
search of more plunder. But I soon heard O'Brien's voice, and I hastened
towards him. I was close to him without his perceiving me, and found him
sitting down with his face covered up in his two hands. At last he
cried, "O Pater! my poor Pater! are you taken at last? Could I not leave
you for one hour in safety? Ochone! why did I leave you? My poor, poor
Pater! simple you were, sure enough, and that's why I loved you; but,
Pater, I would have made a man of you, for you'd all the materials,
that's the truth--and a fine man, too. Where am I to look for you,
Pater? Where am I to find you, Pater? You're fast locked up by this
time, and all my trouble's gone for nothing. But I'll be locked up too,
Pater. Where you are, will I be; and if we can't go to England together,
why then we'll go back to that blackguard hole at Givet together.
Ochone! Ochone!" O'Brien spoke no more, but burst into tears. I was much
affected with this proof of O'Brien's sincere regard, and I came to his
side and clasped him in my arms. O'Brien stared at me, "Who are you, you
ugly Dutch frow?" (for he had quite forgotten the woman's dress at the
moment), but recollecting himself, he hugged me in his arms. "Pater, you
come as near to an angel's shape as you can, for you come in that of a
woman, to comfort me; for, to tell the truth, I was very much distressed
at not finding you here; and all the blankets gone to boot. What has
been the matter?" I explained in as few words as I could.
"Well, Peter, I'm happy to find you all safe, and much happier to find
that you can be trusted when I leave you, for you could not have behaved
more prudently; now I'll tell you what I did, which was not much, as it
happened. I knew that there was no cabaret between us and Flushing, for
I took particular notice as I came along; so I took the road to
Middelburg, and found but one, which was full of soldiers. I passed it,
and found no other. As I came back past the same cabaret, one of the
soldiers came out to me, but I walked along the road. He quickened his
pace, and so did I mine, for I expected mischief. At last he came up to
me, and spoke to me in Dutch, to which I gave him no answer. He collared
me, and then I thought it convenient to pretend that I was deaf and
dumb. I pointed to my mouth with an Au--au--and then to my ears, and
shook my head; but he would not be convinced, and I heard him say
something about English. I then knew that there was no time to be lost,
so I first burst out into a loud laugh and stopped; and on his
attempting to force me, I kicked up his heels, and he fell on the ice
with such a rap on the pate, that I doubt if he has recovered it by this
time. There I left him, and have run back as hard as I could, without
anything for Peter to fill his little hungry inside with. Now, Peter,
what's your opinion? for they say that out of the mouth of babes there
is wisdom; and although I never saw anything come out of their mouths
but sour milk, yet perhaps I may be more fortunate this time, for,
Peter, you're but a baby."
"Not a small one, O'Brien, although not quite so large as Fingal's
_babby_ that you told me the story of. My idea is this.--Let us, at all
hazards, go to the farmhouse. They have assisted us, and may be inclined
to do so again; if they refuse, we must push on to Flushing and take our
chance."
"Well," observed O'Brien, after a pause, "I think we can do no better,
so let's be off." We went to the farmhouse, and, as we approached the
door, were met by the great mastiff. I started back, O'Brien boldly
advanced. "He's a clever dog, and may know us again. I'll go up," said
O'Brien, not stopping while he spoke, "and pat his head: if he flies at
me, I shall be no worse than I was before, for depend upon it he will
not allow us to go back again." O'Brien by this time had advanced to the
dog, who looked earnestly and angrily at him. He patted his head, the
dog growled, but O'Brien put his arm round his neck, and patting him
again, whistled to him, and went to the door of the farmhouse. The dog
followed him silently but closely. O'Brien knocked, and the door was
opened by the little girl: the mastiff advanced to the girl, and then
turned round, facing O'Brien, as much as to say, "Is he to come in?" The
girl spoke to the dog, and went indoors. During her absence the mastiff
lay down at the threshold. In a few seconds the woman who had brought us
from Flushing, came out, and desired us to enter. She spoke very good
French, and told us that fortunately her husband was absent; that the
reason why we had not been supplied was, that a wolf had met her little
girl returning the other day, but had been beaten off by the mastiff,
and that she was afraid to allow her to go again; that she heard the
wolf had been killed this evening, and had intended her girl to have
gone to us early to-morrow morning; that wolves were hardly known in
that country, but that the severe winter had brought them down to the
lowlands, a very rare circumstance, occurring perhaps not once in twenty
years. "But how did you pass the mastiff?" said she; "that has surprised
my daughter and me." O'Brien told her, upon which she said "that the
English were really '_des braves_.' No other man had ever done the
same." So I thought, for nothing would have induced me to do it. O'Brien
then told the history of the death of the wolf, with all particulars,
and our intention, if we could not do better, of returning to Flushing.
"I heard that Pierre Eustache came home yesterday," replied the woman;
"and I do think that you will be safer there than here, for they will
never think of looking for you among the _casernes_, which join their
cabaret."
"Will you lend us your assistance to get in?"
"I will see what I can do. But are you not hungry?"
"About as hungry as men who have eaten nothing for two days."
"_Mon Dieu! c'est vrai._ I never thought it was so long, but those whose
stomachs are filled forget those who are empty. God make us better and
more charitable!"
She spoke to the little girl in Dutch, who hastened to load the table,
which we hastened to empty. The little girl stared at our voracity; but
at last she laughed out, and clapped her hands at every fresh mouthful
which we took, and pressed us to eat more. She allowed me to kiss her,
until her mother told her that I was not a woman, when she pouted at me,
and beat me off. Before midnight we were fast asleep upon the benches
before the kitchen fire, and at daybreak were roused up by the woman,
who offered us some bread and spirits, and then we went out to the door,
where we found the horse and cart all ready, and loaded with vegetables
for the market. The woman, the little girl, and myself got in, O'Brien
leading as before, and the mastiff following. We had learnt the dog's
name, which was "_Achille_," and he seemed to be quite fond of us. We
passed the dreaded barriers without interruption, and in ten minutes
entered the cabaret of Eustache; and immediately walked into the little
room through a crowd of soldiers, two of whom chucked me under the chin.
Whom should we find there but Eustache, the pilot himself, in
conversation with his wife, and it appeared that they were talking about
us, she insisting, and he unwilling to have any hand in the business.
"Well, here they are themselves, Eustache; the soldiers who have seen
them come in will never believe that this is their first entry if you
give them up. I leave them to make their own bargain; but mark me,
Eustache, I have slaved night and day in this cabaret for your profit;
if you do not oblige me and my family, I no longer keep a cabaret for
you."
Madame Eustache then quitted the room with her husband's sister and
little girl, and O'Brien immediately accosted him. "I promise you," said
he to Eustache, "one hundred louis if you put us on shore at any part of
England, or on board of any English man-of-war; and if you do it within
a week, I will make it twenty louis more." O'Brien then pulled out the
fifty napoleons given us by Celeste, for our own were not yet expended,
and laid them on the table. "Here is this in advance, to prove my
sincerity. Say, is it a bargain or not?"
"I never yet heard of a poor man who could withstand his wife's
arguments, backed with one hundred and twenty louis," said Eustache
smiling, and sweeping the money off the table.
"I presume you have no objection to start to-night? That will be ten
louis more in your favour," replied O'Brien.
"I shall earn them," replied Eustache. "The sooner I am off the better,
for I could not long conceal you here. The young frow with you is, I
suppose, your companion that my wife mentioned. He has begun to suffer
hardships early. Come, now, sit down and talk, for nothing can be done
till dark."
O'Brien narrated the adventures attending our escape, at which Eustache
laughed heartily; the more so, at the mistake which his wife was under,
as to the obligations of the family. "If I did not feel inclined to
assist you before, I do now, just for the laugh I shall have at her when
I come back, and if she wants any more assistance for the sake of her
relations, I shall remind her of this anecdote; but she's a good woman
and a good wife to boot, only too fond of her sisters." At dusk he
equipped us both in sailor's jackets and trowsers, and desired us to
follow him boldly. He passed the guard, who knew him well. "What, to sea
already?" said one. "You have quarrelled with your wife." At which they
all laughed, and we joined. We gained the beach, jumped into his little
boat, pulled off to his vessel, and, in a few minutes, were under weigh.
With a strong tide and a fair wind we were soon clear of the Scheldt,
and the next morning a cutter hove in sight. We steered for her, ran
under her lee, O'Brien hailed for a boat, and Eustache, receiving my
bill for the remainder of his money, wished us success; we shook hands,
and in a few minutes found ourselves once more under the British
pennant.