IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
THE night passed slowly to the two prisoners confined in the narrow
space of the sloop’s cuddy. No one came to speak to them, and as hour
after hour went by first one and then the other dropped off to sleep.
When Henry awoke it was broad daylight, and the sloop was bounding along
at a rapid rate of speed. Through the one narrow window of the cuddy he
saw that they were passing a shore filled with waving grass and dotted
here and there with low trees.
“We are going down the St. Lawrence, that is certain. But to where?”
In vain he asked the question of himself, and then of Silvers. The
sharpshooter merely shrugged his shoulders.
“I know nothing of these parts, lad,” he said. “We must take what
comes.”
At noon they received a scanty meal and a drink of lukewarm water. A
sailor served this, and as he could talk French only they learned
nothing from him.
It was nightfall when the sloop’s trip came to an end. Cramped and
stiff, the prisoners were made to march ashore, to where was located an
old convent, now fallen mostly to decay. Some soldiers were quartered
here, and the prisoners were turned over to a guard and promptly put
into what had once been the cell of a monk.
“Worse and worse,” said Henry. “What do you think will happen next?”
Again Silvers shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know, lad, unless they march us out to be shot.”
“Would they do that? They did not catch us in French territory.”
“As we are in their power they can do with us as they please.”
Early in the morning the pair were aroused by the roll of a drum. Some
of the soldiers were getting ready to march away, and the prisoners were
told that they were to march with them.
“To where?” asked Henry.
“To Montreal, and perhaps to Quebec,” said the officer addressed, who
could speak excellent English. Henry wanted to ask more questions, but
the officer had no time to listen to him.
By eight o’clock the soldiers were on the march, with the two prisoners
in their midst. The way was along the river trail, past many pretty
farms and handsome French estates, many of which, however, were now
abandoned. At one point in the road they came upon several ladies on
horseback, who stared in wonder at the prisoners.
“They seem to think we are wild beasts,” laughed Silvers. He bowed
politely, but the ladies turned and rode away.
It will be unnecessary to go into the details of the weary march that
followed the tramp along the river trail. For four days the prisoners
were kept on the road. Montreal was passed, with only a faraway glimpse
of its large cathedral and its seminary, and then the course was almost
straight for Quebec.
So far the prisoners had been treated fairly well, but now came a change
in the command; and they were given food that was hardly fit to eat.
“We can’t stand this very long,” was Henry’s comment, as he threw away a
moldy crust that it was impossible to swallow. “I’d choke on such
stuff.”
The officer in charge of them saw the crust thrown away, and came up
shaking his fist at them.
“Zat ees ze best you vill git,” he cried. “Of you no eat zat, you
starve!”
“All right, we’ll starve then,” replied Henry recklessly.
“Bah! you think you are ze brave boy, eh? Ze English za be all grand
cowards!” And the Frenchman went off in disgust.
“He’s a cheerful dog,” muttered Silvers.
The next day the fare was even worse, and both of the prisoners were on
the point of open rebellion. At night the French officer brought in an
aged Englishman to talk to them. The Englishman was a Canadian settler.
“They are bound to make you talk,” said the Englishman. “If you will
tell all you know they will treat you better.”
“Tell what?” asked Silvers.
“Tell all the plans of the English soldiers.”
“But we know very little,” put in Henry.
“The French captain thinks you know a great deal. He says the man who
captured you, Jacques Volnier, is certain one of you is a noted spy.”
“He must mean me,” said Silvers. “If so, he is much mistaken. I am
nothing but a plain soldier.”
“And so am I,” added Henry.
“I am willing to believe that, for your faces are honest ones,” said the
old Englishman. “But you know how suspicious these Frenchmen are.”
“How come you here?” asked Henry.
“It is a long story. Years ago I married a young lady whose parents
lived not far from Quebec. When they died, they left her the farm and
all its fine buildings. We moved to this place and have been here ever
since. I am seventy-three years old, and so far I have refused to take
either side in this struggle.”
“Did they send you here to bribe us?”
The old man drew himself up.
“They could not do that. They asked me to talk to you, that is all. I am
afraid if you will tell them nothing it will go hard with you.”
“We cannot tell what we do not know,” said Silvers.
“That is true.”
The old man asked them their names, and in return said his name was
Peter Merton. He said he had a son, who had left home at the beginning
of the war, and what had become of his offspring he did not know.
“I have an idea he joined the English army,” he said. “If so, I
sincerely trust that no harm comes to him.”
The old Englishman remained with them for the best part of an hour. He
told them that the camp was located not far from the north bank of the
St. Lawrence, a few miles above Quebec.
“I cannot tell you what General Wolfe is now doing,” he said. “We get
very little news.”
“I heard some cannon firing last night,” said Henry.
“Oh, yes, we get plenty of that. But very little damage is done. I do
not believe that General Wolfe really means to demolish Quebec.” And in
this surmise the old man was correct.
When the old man was leaving, he shook hands with them. As he did this
he pressed into the hand of each a piece of gold money.
“You may find it useful,” he whispered. And before they could protest he
was gone.
“He is certainly a good-hearted fellow,” said Henry.
“He might have helped us to escape,” said Silvers, as he slipped the
gold piece in his pocket.
“No, I think he was too old for that,” returned Henry, and then glancing
on the ground he uttered a low cry, for there lay a small and
exceedingly sharp dagger.
“He dropped that, and most likely on purpose,” exclaimed the
sharpshooter. “I’ll keep it, for it may come in handy,” and he placed
the dagger in his bosom.
Henry and Silvers had been confined for the night in an old house. Two
sleepy French soldiers were on guard. As one of them came in to see that
they were up to no mischief Silvers motioned to him.
“Do you talk English?” he asked.
“Verra little,” answered the soldier, who was of the peasantry and
exceedingly stupid.
“We are hungry, and want something to eat and to drink,” went on
Silvers, and pointed to his mouth.
At this the soldier shrugged his shoulders.
“We will pay for whatever you get us,” went on the sharpshooter, showing
the gold coin. “You buy us something, and keep half the money.”
The eyes of the peasant opened widely at sight of the gold coin, the
like of which he had not seen for months, for his pay as a soldier was
but a few francs per week.
“I no—you——” he stammered.
For reply Silvers made a motion as to cut the coin in half. Then he
pointed to the soldier’s pocket and then to his own mouth and to Henry’s
mouth. The peasant comprehended and a dull smile overspread his
features. He went out to consult the other soldier on guard.
A few minutes later the fellow came back and took the gold coin. Then,
regardless of army regulations, he left his gun with his companion and
stole away in the darkness.
“He has gone for the food,” whispered Silvers to Henry. “Now the
question is, shall we wait for him to get back, or make a dash for
liberty?”
“Let us try for liberty,” exclaimed the young soldier eagerly. “If we
can only get away, I am sure we can find something to eat somewhere.”
“I have a plan,” said the sharpshooter. “Do you see yonder chimney?”
“Of course.”
“We might pretend to run away and hide in that. Then, when the soldiers
disperse to hunt for us, we can cut sticks and off.”
This plan was agreed to, and having examined the chimney and found out
how they could secrete themselves inside, they both peeped out at the
single guard, who was walking up and down, humming to himself.
“Now!” cried Silvers, and they made a racket as if climbing through a
side window, letting the sash fall with a crash. Then both ran to the
chimney and hid with all possible speed.
The guard gave a cry in French and came running up. One glance showed
him the empty room and his eyes strayed to the window.
“Gone!” he muttered, in his native tongue. “And through yonder window!
Oh, the artful rascals! But I shall catch them, or shoot them down!”
He made off, and they heard him start to give the alarm. But then he
thought of his companion and the gold piece. If the commanding officer
heard of how the one guard had gone off there would be trouble ahead for
both. He ran around wildly, at length taking a road leading to the river
bank.
“Now is our chance,” said Henry, and dropped out of the chimney, covered
with soot and as black as a negro. Rushing outside, he caught up the gun
belonging to the guard who had gone for the food. As he did this Silvers
drew the dagger he had picked up, and thus armed the pair started for
the nearest patch of woodland, several hundred feet away.
But the alarm was now general, in spite of the guard’s effort to keep
the affair quiet, and they heard calls from several directions.
“If we get away it’s going to be a tight squeeze,” said Silvers.
“We must get away,” cried Henry. “Come on,” and he set off at a faster
pace than ever.
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