LATER RECORDS
Perpetual attempts to escape from Bitche--Brutal measures of
oppression--Many casualties from accident and murderous assault by
guards--Fresh attempt at escape by Captain Ellison and
comrades--The majority of the party captured--All taken back to
Bitche--Again committed to the _cachot_, then to the Grosse
Tête--They escape through the floor above and descend to the outer
ramparts--Painful pilgrimage to the Rhine, which they cross--They
land in Baden and finally arrive at the Austrian frontier--They are
passed on to Trieste where they take ship for Malta and
England--Mr. Boys, a young naval officer, escapes with others from
Valenciennes--Returns to the Dutch coast with a sloop of war to
assist in bringing off other prisoners still waiting for
rescue--Last words about Verdun--Reforms under a new governor of
high character--The invasion of the Allies in 1813-14 breaks up the
war depots--Prisoners are withdrawn into the interior to be finally
released on the abdication of Napoleon.
As the winter approached, a fresh attempt at escape, this time from
Bitche, was undertaken by Mr. Seacombe Ellison and his comrades. After a
careful reconnaisance of the lay of the land, it was resolved to break
through on the far side of the barracks they occupied. After collecting
and secreting the usual materials--gimlets, pick-locks and ropes--they
eventually got through a door of communication leading on to the
ramparts. It was the 8th of December, a dark night, blowing hard with
sleet and snow. The door passed, they descended a flight of stairs into
the yard and after cautiously ascertaining that the coast was clear,
they crossed to the outer wall, where it overlooked the steep incline
leading to the main gate. Their rope was affixed to a heavy stone
brought on purpose; it was lowered on the far side, and crowding into
the embrasure, the first to descend were on the point of climbing out
when a couple of the French soldiers came up to the next embrasure and
stood there talking for a time, but they presently disappeared, having
discovered nothing. As soon as their backs were turned the drop was made
by all, but in such haste that everyone’s hands were terribly lacerated
by the rope. It seemed unlikely that any further descent was possible,
but when all were lowered and the incline reached, it was seen that the
drawbridge was down; all crossed it and proceeded on a dreary journey
beset with enemies, the wind howling in their ears, the sleet beating
their faces and the blood trickling from their finger ends.
The prisoners now broke up into parties and made for the town, on
reaching the outskirts of which they heard the gun announcing their
escape. They pressed on by any road that offered until they reached the
first wood, where they lay down to rest and await daylight, which came
about five o’clock, when they could examine their appearance and the
effect of the night’s adventures. The sight beggared description.
“I was the only one,” says Ellison, “who had the use of my fingers,
having escaped with merely two large blisters, one on the inside of my
fore-finger and the other on the inside of the middle one, both on the
right hand: but my companions were in a dreadful state; some of their
fingers were stripped to the bone and none of them had a sound finger on
either hand. Here was a situation! No plasters, no bandages, no comforts
of any sort, save a bladder of brandy that I had secured--exposed to the
elements, with no covering but the leafless trees and the canopy of
heaven. My task was an arduous one, for I had to do almost everything
for them; and began by cutting off the laps of their shirts and binding
up their fingers, which I did as well as my materials would permit,
having neither needles, nor thread, nor pins, nor anything save the
linen to keep the cold from their wounds; in fact, we were starving both
within and without. K. had charge of a ham which he was carrying down
the wall in his teeth, but unfortunately he lost it and we found
ourselves with only a piece of a loaf and the brandy. I had a new pair
of shoes and a pair of warm stockings in my pockets, which I put on,
expecting that they would have warmed my feet; but in that I was sadly
deceived, for they became much colder afterwards than they were before
and were so benumbed that I was almost uncertain during the whole day
whether I had any feet at all. I never since suffered anything like it
however wet or cold the weather. In the middle of the day the sun came
out, which by melting the snow on the trees over our heads did not add
to our comfort.
“At the edge of dark, when we were about quitting our retreat, a curious
scene took place. Some of us found great difficulty in rising we were so
benumbed; we stretched out first one limb and then another, until we
were able to set our bodies in motion, and after we had so done, it was
some time before the circulation of the blood was restored. Leaving the
wood, we saw a cottage, and hunger being importunate we went up to it. A
man was standing at the door, who told us he had nothing for himself but
potatoes. We asked him the road to Strasburg, which he pointed out and
telling us we had chosen bad weather for our journey, bade us good
night. The road we were on was bad--in many places knee deep in
mud--poor K. often crying out, ‘O Ellison, put up my shoe heel;’ and I
exerting my patience as often put it up; until at last I inadvertently
used one of my wounded fingers which tore off the blister, and then I
could not help showing some of the infirmity of my disposition. We
passed a number of foundries, which illuminated our way; and about
eleven o’clock came to the small town of Niederbrun which we at first
took for a straggling village. While considering how to proceed one of
our companions was suddenly seized with violent pain and lay motionless
in the middle of the road. What was to be done? If we left him there the
consequence would have been certain death; for it had then begun to
freeze. It was agreed that two of us should go into the town to
reconnoitre. Dacres and I volunteered and found all quiet; returning, we
went up to a window in which was a light and where we saw a tailor at
work; he came to us, but not understanding a word of French and we not
much of his provincial dialect, we were not able to obtain any
information. He pointed out to us a wine house. ‘Are there any
gensdarmes?’ we asked. ‘Nicht the gensdarmes, nichts the gensdarmes,’
was his reply. We bade him good night but staid a little to watch his
motions.
“After seeing him resume his work, we returned and found our companion
something better. We promised if he would exert himself we would stop at
the first lonely wine house we came to. He arose; and when we arrived
opposite the house which the tailor had shown us we held a consultation
if it would be safe to enter and concluded it would not. After walking
about two miles farther we came to a solitary house and seeing a light
still burning, went in and found the landlord a civil fellow,
understanding French. He asked no questions, and at our request brought
us some supper. When he observed me cutting the meat for the others, he
asked, ‘What is the matter with your hands?’ We answered that we were
conscripts, escaped from one of the Flemish fortresses and had maimed
them descending the walls. Although we were nearly famished when we
entered the house, the heat of the stove made the room so oppressively
hot that it turned us all sick and destroyed our appetites. He was sorry
for our situation and told us we were seven leagues from the Rhine. This
surprised us, to find that after walking a night and a half we had only
shortened our distance nine miles. He directed us to a neighbouring
village, where, he said, we were sure to find a faithful guide. Seeing
that he took such an interest in our welfare, we asked if he could not
provide us one. He replied, ‘There is one belonging to the village; I
will go and see if he be at home.’ He soon returned with a smart looking
young man who said if we would walk at a quick pace he would have us
across the Rhine before daylight. After making a bargain with him and
paying our worthy landlord, we started. The idea of being so soon out of
Napoleon’s grasp inspired us all with renewed vigour, especially the
invalid, and we marched with spirit. In a short time we passed round the
ramparts of Haguenau. Our guide then left the road, going through woods
and across marshes. The moon now rose beautifully bright and the frost
had been so intense that we walked, where the water was shallow, over
the ice. Occasionally I served out a little brandy, and although heated
with walking my hands became so benumbed during the operation that I
could scarcely tie the bladder up again. Proceeding onward we came to a
small rivulet where K., miscalculating the width and losing sight of the
French proverb, ‘_Il faut retirer pour mieux sortir_,’ made a spring and
reached the opposite side; but the weight of his body being behind the
perpendicular of his heels he could not keep his standing and leaped
backwards up to the middle in water. He was soon in a dreadful state,
his wounded hands smarting with cold and his pantaloons frozen stiff as
boards.
“As the day approached, the sky became overcast; a cold easterly wind
sprung up, and we felt as if it went straight through us; our guide
discovered that he had missed his way; and the bleak dreary scene around
us was altogether dispiriting. There was no wood in sight; and if there
had been the cold was so intense that we could not have borne it. At a
little distance was a village upon approaching which we came to a barn
where two men were thrashing by candle light. We offered them a crown
each, and they promised to conceal us until night. Then mounting upon
the straw we covered ourselves all over and regained some little heat.
Our guide became troublesome, wanting his pay. We told him he had not
fulfilled his contract and therefore ought not to expect it. Finding we
could not pacify him we promised to double the sum as soon as he should
put us into a boat. With this he appeared contented and we lay
unmolested until about half-past three, when we were discovered by a
man and a woman who caught hold of us and said we were thieves. We
replied that we were honest men. ‘Then,’ said they, ‘you shall not be
molested; therefore make no resistance; it will be in vain as the whole
village is aroused. Come with us into the adjoining house.’ We did so
and there found the mayor and a posse of villagers. We went to the
opposite side of the room and had no sooner faced about than the good
woman pointed with her finger to another door. We took the hint and
bolted.
“They chased us for a little distance, but we soon lost sight of our
pursuers. A little before dark we entered a wood which our fear caused
us to penetrate so far that we had great difficulty to find our way out
again. I had run with my shoes in my hand by which means I bruised one
of my feet and scratched the ankle, which afterwards laid me up. Having
regained the road, almost famishing for lack of food and perishing with
cold, we proceeded at the best pace we were able and had not gone far
ere we found ourselves so close to a man on horseback that we could not
escape him. He passed us a few yards and returning, entered into
conversation. K., seeing that he was armed, went up to him and said,
‘You are a gendarme.’ ‘No,’ said the man, ‘I am not; I am a _douanier_,’
(custom-house officer). K. said, ‘I do not believe it; you are a
gendarme and I will tell you plainly that we are Englishmen and if you
attempt to obstruct or betray us we will murder you.’ The man again
protested he was a _douanier_. ‘Then, can you get us across the Rhine?’
we asked. ‘Yes, if you will remunerate me according to the risk, for I
am,’ said he, ‘a poor man, with a wife and a large family and a little
ready money will be a great help.’ ‘What is your demand?’ ‘Fifteen
louis.’ ‘That is too much, we will give you ten.’ ‘I will not undertake
the business for anything less, seeing I run the risk of losing my
situation, and being sent to the army. Give me only my price and I will
brave the danger and have you over in half an hour.’ The man acted his
part so well and made so hard a bargain that we began to waver. The
proposal was almost irresistible in our painful state; we therefore held
a parley and put it to the vote, when K., Dacres and B. were for it; and
away they marched alongside of the man, some of them with their hands
upon the horse. In a little time we crossed a bridge and coming to a
house near it the fellow called out, ‘_Tuez-moi ces coquins-ci_’ (kill
me these rascals)--and drawing his sword, made a cut at K. Then from
behind the house started out twenty or thirty armed men, some mounted,
some on foot, and told us to surrender.
“A-d-n and myself having been rather more suspicious than our
companions, had kept a little behind and ran back in different
directions. I passed the end of the bridge and heard my pursuers, horse
and foot, scamper over it; by and by the horns were sounding in every
direction. I kept on a narrow path that led me on to a common, upon
which I rambled about for several hours and then found myself close to
the place where we had been attacked. I again took the narrow path
recollecting that I had seen a small bridge on my right. I went over it
and soon found myself on the borders of the Rhine, the current making a
tremendous noise. I proceeded along its banks until I came to a lone
house with a light in the window; I was going softly up to observe who
was inside, when I was set upon by two dogs; I ran and directly
afterwards came to a place where two boats were chained and was in the
act of stooping to cast one of them loose when two men who had been
lying in ambush suddenly sprang up, collared me and asked where I was
going. I replied, across the river, and if they would assist me I would
give them three louis. They said it was too late that night, they would
take me to my companions and we might cross together in the morning.
Whilst this was passing, three gensdarmes came up who marched me off to
a village where I found the male inhabitants armed with pitchforks,
staves, etc., keeping guard over the prison in which were secured my
unfortunate companions, all the gensdarmes having been away in search of
A-d-n and myself. In about two hours the former was brought in; he had
lain in a ditch upon the ice until he could scarcely move and was taken
as soon as he crawled out. Being all secured, we were left in charge of
the jailer, the peasantry still keeping guard outside.”
Once more the disappointed prison-breakers were marched back in great
physical suffering and still more sore at heart, trudging painfully
along mile after mile and exposed to all the weathers, to reach their
dismal night’s lodgings, drenched to the skin and starved from want of
food. A rough reception met them at Bitche from the indignant commandant
who bitterly upbraided them for abusing his lenity by breaking their
parole, and laying him open to censure in attempting their escape. No
parole had been given, as a matter of fact, but the commandant was
pleased to say so, and thought it warranted his committing them to the
underground _cachot_ although all were better fitted to become patients
in a hospital. While the hurts were still unhealed they were called upon
to proceed to Metz to appear as witnesses at a court-martial, held upon
a gendarme supposed to have connived at their escape. They chivalrously
refused to incriminate him, and drew down a reproof from the president
of the court, who declared that the English would say anything to screen
a man who had rendered them a service. But the gendarme had a wife
living at Bitche and when they returned to the fort she was their firm
friend.
Now with undefeated perseverance they cast about to contrive some fresh
means of escape. Confinement in the _cachot_ was ended, and all ten in
number were lodged above ground in a small room in the Grosse Tête.
After examination of their surroundings they found that in a room in an
upper story a window projected and was constantly left open as the room
was used to dry the linen from the laundry. If they could gain this room
above they might lower themselves to the ground on the far side of the
first rampart, but within the mortar battery mentioned. Of what lay
beyond they could form no idea. The number of walls remaining, their
weight, the nature of the ditches, whether wet or dry, their width,
whether there was any egress, the number of sentries if any,--all this
was a mystery. Nevertheless they meant to take all risks and trust to
the unknown if they could but succeed in the first step,--that of
breaking prison.
An essential preliminary was to provide rope to enable them to scale the
walls. The usual well known devices were adopted. Everything that could
serve was utilised. Sheets, blankets and shirts were torn into shreds
and woven into a cord which was covered with linen to save the hands in
slipping down it. Money was raised on bills given to an old lady in the
town; Ellison, the leader of the enterprise, was in possession of a
gimlet and a saw, invaluable instruments for penetrating doors and
barriers. Food was laid in; bread and beefsteaks were brought up from
the town below and three quarts of brandy carried in bladders. When all
was prepared, the first dark stormy night was chosen for the attempt and
the first step was to pile the mattresses on top of each other so as to
give access to the ceiling in order to break into the room above. The
floor was of oak battens so hard that the saw broke in two pieces, but
the largest was fitted into a fresh handle by these resourceful sailors,
the work proceeded, and after nine hours of toilsome labour, the passage
through was completed. It was said that when the commandant entered the
room the next morning, upon seeing the hole in the ceiling, he lifted up
his hands and exclaimed, “The devil himself could not prevent the escape
of an Englishman.”
Daylight was at hand, and when it broke they could see their way down,
see also the sentry ensconced in his box thinking more of shelter than
of keeping a good look out. In the course of a few minutes all of the
party went down and were safely landed at the bottom of the second
rampart where they thought themselves free of the fort. But alas, fifty
yards distant was a third rampart apparently of a great height, part of
the rope had been left behind at the second rampart, and there was not
enough left to reach the bottom of this third obstacle in safety. All
went down, however, dropping the last twelve feet without accident
except to one who broke his leg and had to be left behind. They were now
in the ditch and they ran along it until they reached a flight of steps
which led up to the glacis. At the top they had a full view of the
whole country and, pointing for the distant mountains, gained the
shelter of a wood where they were securely ensconced when the signalling
gun fired.
What followed was an exact repetition of the adventures encountered in
previous attempts; lying by till nightfall, a weary tramp under pouring
rain along roads knee deep in mud, skirting villages and single houses
to take refuge and seek rest in some friendly wood. A more useful friend
was met, a villager who, although he said,--“You are from Bitche, I
heard the gun yesterday morning,”--gave them food and found them a
guide. They were now in the mountains of the Voges, walking parallel to
the river Rhine, ten or twelve miles distant. One of the party was taken
exceedingly ill and they were detained to attend on him. A couple of
woodsmen next came upon the scenes and brought them wine and hot soup,
and the sick man was so far restored as to be able to continue the
arduous climb across the steep mountain country. A succession of guides
to whom they were obliged to trust, fearing treachery all the time, got
them at last to the river bank where they made a last halt in a wood,
while a guide went in search of a boat to ferry them across. The best he
could find was a species of raft made of five boards, but even now he
would not allow the fugitives to embark until they had met his
peremptory demand for more money. With freedom so near at hand, they
would have given any sum to complete their escape and were soon half way
across the river. When they landed it was on the territory of Baden,
about fifteen miles below Strasburg and on neutral ground. This was the
seventh day after their departure from Bitche, but the whole distance
traversed was only forty miles.
Their situation was still precarious, for although they were out of the
immediate grip of France, Napoleon’s authority was felt in neighbouring
countries and the people of Baden were expected to arrest all vagabonds
who carried no passports and could not satisfactorily account for
themselves. Still the Duchy of Baden was safer than that of Wurtemburg
where there was an officious police. Moreover, the French invasion of
Austria was imminent and the French armies would soon traverse this
country, calling to strict account any who had succoured the enemies of
France. Still they held on, facing many dangers, till they crossed the
Danube, not far from Ulm, and next the Iller which brought them to
Bavarian territory; then by the road from Memmingen to Munich, enduring
terrible fatigue and suffering many vicissitudes. The Bavarian police
were very inquisitive and disbelieved their story. This was at the
Austrian frontier and yet it seemed certain that they must be detained
on the Bavarian side. Yet they were allowed to pass despite their
improbable story and their suspicious appearance,--their worn and
weather-beaten countenances; their ragged clothes, their whole aspect
that of disreputable tramps and vagrants.
Austria was at the time the ally of England, and the fugitives
fearlessly entered the guard house and claimed the protection of the
Austrian government. They were politely but not too cordially received
and passed on under escort and delivered up at the police office at
Salzburg, having thus accomplished their escape after a toilsome and
harassing march of twenty-two days through by-ways and hedges, beset by
enemies on every side, exposed to the inclemency of a severe winter and
all the painful consequences attendant on light purses. From Salzburg
they eventually proceeded to Trieste where they found an Austrian brig
on the point of sailing for Malta, which, after twenty days on the
voyage, they reached, and stood once more on British soil.
I have thought the foregoing escapes sufficiently interesting to deserve
a detailed account. They are typical of numbers attempted with various
results and are inserted to show the undaunted spirit animating the
breasts of prisoners of war, chafing at their long and seemingly
hopeless captivity. Another which exhibits much the same features, if
anything more strongly developed, may also be quoted here to complete
the record. It is a narrative of about the same date, which has come
down to us, giving the thrilling personal adventures of a young British
naval officer in his escape from Valenciennes. This was Mr. Edward Boys,
at the time a master’s mate and afterwards commander, who was taken by
the French off Toulon in a recaptured prize. With other prisoners, he
made the painful pilgrimage across France from the Mediterranean to the
north-eastern frontier, and in due course reached Verdun, having
travelled a great part of the way on foot or pony back, and having spent
five months on the road. His account of Verdun tallies almost exactly
with that given in the preceding pages. He bears witness to the
oppressive misgovernment of the military authorities, the extortions
practised, the encouragement given to vice, the dissoluteness and
depravity prevailing among prisoners and civilian _détenus_, the public
gaming tables, the general looseness of morals, the debauchery and
drunkenness culminating too often in despair and suicide. It is
unnecessary to recapitulate the many atrocities perpetuated in this
remote corner of a great country where for a long time all restraints
were withdrawn and a small gang of dishonourable villains were permitted
to bring shame and disgrace upon France.
Mr. Boys ate out his heart in captivity for nearly five years without
making any attempt to escape, although a few of his comrades and
intimate friends succeeded in getting away. Meanwhile the question of a
general exchange of prisoners had been mooted more than once, but
without result. The British Government would not admit that the
_détenus_ were “prisoners of war” and refused to give up French
soldiers and sailors as the equivalent of these unjustly detained
civilians (albeit ill-used Englishmen). By this time the French forces
were seriously depleted and Napoleon was experiencing increasing
difficulty in filling his ranks, which the exchange of war prisoners
would have appreciably assisted.
The future looked black and hopeless. Imprisonment threatened to be
absolutely endless when a rift broke through the clouds and a change in
the situation seemed to favour the chance of escape. General Wirion, who
was still in the ascendant, was at enmity with the town of Verdun and
out of spite strongly recommended that the depot of prisoners should be
removed bodily to Metz. Napoleon, however, owed Metz a grudge for not
supporting him when he sought the suffrages of the city to endorse his
assumption of the Imperial Crown, and he refused to help it at the
expense of Verdun. Wirion, foiled in this direction, decided to injure
Verdun by reducing its numbers. He transferred new arrivals elsewhere;
he banished all he could condemn as offenders to Bitche, and finally
made a great sweep out of the midshipmen on the plea that they were
_trés mauvais sujets_ and that Verdun was too weak to hold them. All of
these youngsters, including Mr. Boys, were put under orders to proceed
to other prisons, Valenciennes, Givet and Sarrelouis, the two first on
the northern, the third on the eastern frontier of France.
“The northern expedition being ready,” says Boys, “we were placed two
and two upon bundles of straw in five wagons and set out escorted by the
greater part of the horse gendarmerie of the district, aided by the
infantry.... Four horse gensdarmes formed the van and four the rear
guard, one on each side of every wagon, and twenty foot soldiers in
files, with others in each carriage, made up the escort, the commander
bringing up the rear on his charger. Whenever the road passed by a wood,
which frequently occurred, we were halted to give the infantry time to
occupy its skirts; two gensdarmes on each side were posted midway while
the rest displayed their pistols somewhat ostentatiously by way of
intimidation. I have been thus minute in detailing the strength and
manner of the escort, not only to contrast it with similar detachments
in England, where twice the number of prisoners with infinitely greater
facilities of escape might be safely entrusted to the car of a
sergeant’s guard, but also to show how fully persuaded Wirion was that
some of us would make the attempt.”
All along the route the prisoners except when put upon their honour were
on the alert to jump out of their wagons and run away, but no
opportunity offered until they were safely lodged in the fortress of
Valenciennes, which was reached on the 17th August, 1808. The _trés
mauvais sujets_ were lodged apart in a small house within the citadel
where fourteen hundred seamen also occupied barracks crowded into the
space of an acre, and no one was suffered to go beyond these limits.
Escape from this citadel appeared quite impossible. It was enclosed by a
wet ditch, merely one foot of water lying over six feet of mud, and to
swim across was out of the question. The citadel had two gates, one to
the south and one to the north, with a strong guard at both. There was
another sally port in the western rampart leading into an outwork,
thence into a garden, and opening at length into the country.
For months Mr. Boys waited, reconnoitering his ground and vainly seeking
to persuade some of his comrades to join him in his bold adventure. It
seemed too hazardous and difficult of execution and the officers to whom
he opened his mind one and all declined to become concerned in the
enterprise. His desire got wind and became common gossip, so much so
that it reached the ears of the secret police, a very active and
inquisitive agency in all the French prisons, and Boys was closely
watched. To disarm suspicion he sent for all his heavy baggage and his
greyhounds which had been left at Verdun, and seemed determined to make
his home at Valenciennes. These hounds were of much assistance to him in
planning his escape. The gensdarmes were sportsmen and borrowed the dogs
but they would not work without their master, so Boys was suffered to
take part in drawing the neighbourhood and thus learned much of the lay
of the land outside the fortress. He decided now not to attempt
departure by the northern sally port but resolved to climb into the
upper citadel and scale the eastern fortifications. Companions still
hesitated to join him, but he began his preparations notwithstanding.
Tools, provisions, a map of the surrounding country,--all were laid in,
secretly obtained through a friend living in the town. A rope was still
wanting, but he bought up all the skipping lines of the French children
who were much given to this diversion, and it attracted no suspicion,
and he soon had length enough to lower him from the top of the
breastwork to the drawbridge leading to the upper citadel. The number of
courses of bricks in the wall had been counted and an approximate
calculation made. The same good friend in the town arranged to have iron
handles fixed to a pair of steel boat-hooks, which were to be used as
picklocks. A second rope was required and secured by a stratagem. There
was a draw-well in the midshipmen’s yard with a worn and nearly
unserviceable rope which was rendered utterly useless by hacking at the
straw. A subscription was opened and a new rope supplied which would be
ready for use at the supreme moment.
At length fresh overtures made to other prisoners led to the grudging
assent of two midshipmen to join in the expedition, a third after long
hesitation also agreed, and a fourth youngster becoming possessed of the
secret immediately proposed himself, thus making up a party of five. The
projected escape, although surrounded with difficulties, did not seem
impracticable. It meant scaling the inner wall, ascending the parapet
unseen by lynx-eyed sentinels and patrols ever on the alert, to chop
down two ramparts each forty-five feet in height, to cross two
drawbridges and force two or more doors with ponderous locks. The
obstacles to be surmounted might well have daunted the stoutest hearts,
yet these brave spirits chafing at their prolonged confinement, losing
sea service, and precluded from taking part in the war, were willing to
face them, resolved to surmount and persevere with unflinching constancy
to the bitter end.
The 15th November was chosen for the enterprise, a dark and stormy
night, a fresh wind blowing and not a star to be seen; the leaves were
falling in abundance, raising a rustling noise on the stones which
deadened the sound of footsteps. The fugitives met in the common room to
bid adieu to their comrades remaining behind, who seeing them equipped
for the road, knapsack on back and rope slung on the shoulder of one of
them, were disposed to jeer and laugh at their boast that they meant to
be at home within ten days’ time. But they entered into the spirit of
the thing and next morning at the regular muster when their comrades
were missing answered for them, “_Partis pour l’Angleterre_” (started
for England).
The start was made at 8 P. M. Every fugitive carried a clasp knife and a
small packet of fine pepper, the first for defence if attacked, the
latter to be thrown into the eyes of their assailants to cover retreat.
Boys and another were to go first to fix ropes and open doors, the rest
to follow after an interval of a quarter of an hour; if the leaders were
shot the rest could retire in safety; if they in their turn were
detected, the others ahead might still gain the open country. All drew
their stockings over their shoes to deaden the sound of their movements.
Those ahead carried the rope and a couple of stakes on which to fasten
it. They surmounted the first wall, passed through a garden, crossed a
road and silently climbed the bank at the back of the north guardroom on
their hands and feet. They were now at the highest point and in danger
of being seen by some of the many sentries, but these for shelter from
the bitter wind nestled close inside their boxes carefully crying aloud
every quarter of an hour, “_Sentinelle prenez garde à vous_,” the French
equivalent for “all’s well.”
The stakes, one of them a poker, were driven into the earth on the
slant, one behind the other, and the eyelet hole of the draw-well rope
slipped over, the other end being dropped into the giddy abyss till it
touched the drawbridge below. Boys, who was the first to descend, was
three parts down when a brick fell, struck against the side and
rebounded on to his chest. This luckily he caught between his knees and
carried along without noise. Then he crossed the bridge and waited for
Hunter, who descended with equal care and silence. Opposite was the
entrance to the ravelin, an arched passage ending in a massive door,
securely bolted, against which the picklock was useless, and failure
seemed imminent unless they reascended by the rope and tried elsewhere.
They thought of dropping into the canal and floating along on their
backs--an impossible feat, “there being too little water to swim and too
much mud to ford it.” Then a bright idea came to them, to undermine a
passage under the door and with their pocket knives they slowly and
painfully effected this, being reinforced at the work by the arrival of
their companions.
Creeping through the aperture, they followed the passage till they met
the drawbridge at the end. It was raised but there was room to climb
over and pass to the far side by the _garde-fous_ or bars serving as
rails for the bridge. A second arched passage led under the ravelin and
ended in another great door which, luckily for them, had been left
unlocked by the gensdarmes. They were now in the upper citadel and all
that remained was to lower themselves over the last rampart and so down
to the crown of the glacis. Two narrow escapes ensued: the stake on the
cope of the parapet holding the rope gave way, and Boys would have
fallen fifty feet had he not caught and held himself by the long grass.
One of the others nearly lost himself but Boys took his weight upon arm
and shoulder and saved him. They were now free of the fort, having
accomplished a perilous and laborious work in less than four hours.
It is needless and would be wearisome to follow their progress in
detail. They crossed the glacis, gained the high road and were brought
to a stop by the closed gates of a walled town; entering the ditch they
discovered a subterranean passage and found a secure asylum among the
rubbish of some old works. The map told them when daylight came that
this was part of the fortifications of Tournay, and after a long rest,
feeling they were quite safe for the time being, they fared forth at
dusk making for Courtrai and reached it next morning, having now
traversed twenty-five miles of the whole distance of sixty that had
interposed between them and the sea coast on starting. But the river Lys
was in front of them and could not be passed at this fortress town; it
was necessary to follow its downward course by the right bank as far as
Deynze where they lay in a wood until they mustered up courage to enter
the town. Here they gave themselves out as conscripts marching to Ghent
and found both food and shelter at a low public house. At four o’clock
in the morning, rested and fortified with supplies, they crossed the
river and took the direct road to Bruges, twenty miles distant, with
only ten miles to the coast at Blankenberg, hard by Ostend.
They found a solitary public house on the third night close to
Blankenberg, kept by a woman well disposed to the English, who
recognised and befriended them, sending them on after a good supper and
unlimited gin. Their emotion was intense on reaching the sea which they
had last left at the Mediterranean, and they rather hastily imagined
their troubles at an end. But it was an impossible task to launch a boat
from that flat beach, although many lay on the shore, and rather
despairingly they returned to the kind soul at the cabaret with whom
they soon bargained to be put across the channel. She agreed to find a
boat and a crew to man it at the price of one hundred pounds. Meanwhile
she gave them shelter while negotiations were opened with the local
fishermen, which began on the 2nd January, 1809, and were continued in
the teeth of innumerable contretemps and disappointments for nearly five
months. The Flemish seafaring folk were afraid to act, deterred by the
close watch set on all boats and the penalties that hung over all who
ventured to assist fugitive prisoners. There was endless haggling about
terms, great distrust of the methods of payment suggested, suspicion was
always rife of treachery in the agents employed, and unexpected
difficulties arose as to the choice of a place of embarkation, but at
last the island of Cadsand opposite Flushing was chosen and the party
made a last halt concealed in the ruins of the fortress of L’Ecluse.
Patrols constantly on the alert must be eluded and all movements
screened, but at last on the night of the 8th of May news came that the
boat was close at hand. At ten o’clock with the weather fierce, the
night dark, they marched down to the beach and as soon as the patrol
passed, the private signal was made and answered. The boat glided
silently inshore with muffled oars; they rushed in and in an instant
were safe afloat; each seized an oar and vigorously applying his utmost
strength they soon reached beyond the range of shot.
At daybreak the boat was under canvas going free, by three o’clock the
white cliffs of England were in sight, and by five they landed at
Ramsgate. The luck had turned for Mr. Boys. He was well received at the
Admiralty, immediately passed, promoted lieutenant and appointed to H.
M. S. _Arachne_ which sailed soon afterwards for Flushing. The
expedition to Walcheren was at that time in full swing, and although it
was fruitless, the presence of the fleet in those waters was likely to
benefit the escaped prisoners still detained on the Dutch coast. Mr.
Boys was sent for the purpose of bringing them off. He was unfortunately
called away to other duty, but the rescue was effected of several
officers who had assisted Boys to escape from Valenciennes.
A few last words about Verdun. The scandals caused by the misgovernment
of Wirion and Courcelles were summarily checked by the removal of the
chief offenders. Any repetition of them was quite prevented by the
appointment of an upright, honourable soldier, Col. Baron de Beauchène,
to the chief command. He announced his firm intention of putting an end
to all oppression in these words: “It will afford me real pleasure to
render the prisoners under my care as happy as they have been miserable
under others. I have served against the English in Spain, and am not
ignorant of their generous conduct towards my countrymen. In return I
ought to show all possible lenity,”--and he did. Captain Boys speaks of
him as the fountain of “justice and equity.” He did not live long but
died after a few days’ illness “respected and lamented by every one.”
Nearly the whole body of the English in Verdun attired in full uniform
attended the funeral. After Baron de Beauchène, a commandant of the
Courcelles stamp was in power but was speedily superseded by Major de
Meulan, a gallant soldier, honourable and just.
The depots on the north-eastern frontier were hurriedly broken up as the
tide of invasion rolled forward, and the prisoners were hurried
southward to Blois. There were more than twenty thousand, and they might
have rendered some signal service by joining forces with the allies. But
they were incapable of taking decided action. Most of them had grown
gray in captivity, extending for many over eleven years, had lost all
energy, and passed a mere animal existence indifferent to change and
callous to the chances offered to regain freedom. Their minds no longer
responded to any outside stimulus, but were torpid and inactive. Many
had grown so accustomed to prison life and were so broken by its
hardships that any exertion seemed distasteful. They marched from prison
to prison and, unlike the ardent souls whose adventures have been
described, no one made an effort to escape.