occurring, and then the cry was--“Huzza for old England!” But it would
be an almost endless task were I to enumerate all my adventures,
perilous and humorous, and sometimes a combination of both, in my
strenuous endeavours to attain the “red flag at the fore.” Before my
six years had expired, I had been in seven different engagements,
received three wounds, (one of them severe,) been once shipwrecked,
and once taken prisoner, but escaped. Storms I had weathered many; had
visited the coast of Africa, South America, and New South Wales; but
still I endured every thing for the sake of the “red flag at the fore.”
At the expiration of six years, I passed my examination for lieutenant
and received my certificate of qualification; which, after waiting a
modest time, I forwarded with a memorial to my patron, who had been
elevated to the House of Peers. His answer was, that “things were
materially changed since I first went to sea; the same individuals were
not now in office, and he much questioned whether he could obtain my
promotion; indeed he hinted that it would be better for me to quit the
service, and apply myself to some other profession.” I cannot describe
my disappointment and vexation. Through the representations of this
man, I had given up the sweets of childhood to endure the severest
hardships and privations. I had toiled unflinchingly in my duty; I
had fought the battles of my country, and could show my honourable
scars; and thus to have the “red flag at the fore” torn down by the
hand I expected to raise me!--my pride, and every feeling of my heart,
revolted against it. I was determined to persevere.
Other six years passed away, in which I was a partaker of some of the
most brilliant achievements of the war, when I was honoured, after
thirteen years’ servitude, with a lieutenant’s commission. But even
then it was not gained by any desperate act of valour, or by those
feats which are dear and precious to every British sailor’s heart; but
simply by obtaining (through the present of a handsome Cashmere shawl)
the interest of a fair lady, highly esteemed by the First Lord of the
Admiralty. However, I got the white lapels, and that was, as Moriarty
observed, “the first step up the ratlines” towards the “red flag at the
fore.”
After this, things went on tolerably ill among some sharp fighting and
many hard knocks. My poor mother slipped her cable for the blessed
haven of eternal rest. My sister got married to a pirate, who plundered
my father’s property, and then cast her adrift upon the world. The
old gentleman’s gray hairs were brought with sorrow to the grave,
my sister’s coffin was soon placed upon his breast, and I was left
desolate.
Still the “red flag at the fore,” like a will-o’the-wisp, lured me on.
I conducted one of the fire-ships at Lord Cochrane’s attack upon the
French fleet in Basque Roads; had the command of a gun-boat at the
storming of St. Sebastian, and was with the army at the sortie from
Bayonne, in which I got a crack on the head--not big enough to jump in,
to be sure, but it set my brains spinning for a month. I commanded a
fast-sailing schooner charged with despatches for Wellington, when he
was expected to occupy Bordeaux, and entered the Garonne in the dead of
the night, lighted on my way by the flames of a French eighty-gun ship
that had been set on fire to prevent her falling into the hands of the
English; and having anchored in a secure position, left my vessel in
a four-oared boat, passed the batteries undiscovered, and executed my
orders as the brave marshal stood in the great square, with white flags
and beauty greeting his arrival.
Peace came: Bonaparte was elbowed off to Elba, and the “red flag at the
fore” was as far off as ever. My vessel was paid off, and after many
years of activity, I entered upon a life of indolence. But as Dr. Watts
very wisely observes, in one of the hymns which I was compelled to
learn at school when a child,--
“Satan finds some mischief still,
For idle hands to do;”--
so I e’en got married. The fair lady (she is now peeping over my
shoulder) attracted my attention at church by the broad and bright
ribands that graced the front of her bonnet. They reminded me of the
“red flag at the fore,” and an inglorious sigh escaped. Now every body
knows that a sigh is the beginning of love, for Byron says,
“Oh, love! what is it in this world of ours
That makes it fatal to be loved? Ah, why
With cypress dost thou wreath thy bowers,
And make thy best interpreter a sigh?”
Well, but to make short of it, I got married; but no sooner had
Napoleon returned from Elba, than I was again at my duty. I was sent by
Sir Pulteney Malcolm, then naval commander-in-chief at Ostend, with a
party of seamen to man the great guns in the army under Wellington on
the plains of Waterloo, and the “red flag at the fore” once more opened
on my view. It was on the very morning after the decisive battle, that
between Brussels and Bruges, I met the first detachment of prisoners
coming down from the field, and was ordered to take charge of them to
Ostend. There were about two thousand officers and men, most of them
wounded and without a single application or dressing to the mangled
parts; yet their devotion to Napoleon was unabated, and with their
stiffened limbs sore with laceration, and their bodies gashed and
scored with sabre cuts, they still shouted, “_Vive l’Empereur!_”
The battle of Waterloo ended the war; Bonaparte was despatched to St.
Helena, and all prospects of promotion are over. My noble patron has
accomplished the number of his days, and no “red flag at the fore” will
ever fall to my lot, unless indeed I include a certain Bardolphian
tinge to the most prominent feature of my face, which has been _red
at the fore_ for some years past; but excepting the half-pay of a
lieutenant, a small remnant of prize-money, and a wife and seven
children, I am as poor as a churchwarden’s charity-box.
THE PRISONER.
“It is thou liberty! thrice sweet and gracious goddess, whom all in
public and in private worship, whose taste is grateful and ever will
be so, till Nature herself shall change.”
STERNE.
Twenty years had floated down the stream of time since my escape from a
French prison, and my almost immediate embarkation for the East Indies
with cheerful prospects and with a glowing heart. Hope and enterprise
urged me on in my career, and the efforts of my industry were crowned
with complete success. But ah! how dear the purchase; an Asiatic clime
had undermined my constitution, and ill health had rendered me peevish
and discontented; so that I determined once more to visit the land of
my nativity, and I embarked in an Indiaman for that purpose.
Only those who have been long estranged from the home of their
fathers, and are returning to it with ardent expectation and thrilling
apprehensions--only those can tell the mingling sensations of pain
and pleasure that agitate the breast, as the tall ship urges on her
course--“splash, splash, along the wave,”--while the anxious mariner,
day after day, calculates his distance from the shore and sighs to find
it yet so far away.
At last, I trod on British ground, but how changed were all things
since my departure! The authors of my being were no more; the
companions of my youth were scattered upon the wide world, or numbered
with the dead; while others whom I had folded in my arms at parting,
and felt my cheek bedewed with their tears, now received me with
distant politeness and cold reserve. No cheering heart-descriptive
smile of affection welcomed my return, and I found myself alone,
unfriended and unblest. Society became my aversion, and withdrawing
from the world to the cottage where I first received existence, my days
were passed in nurturing the melancholy that consumed my heart, and my
chief gratification was to pass the hours of solitude near the tomb of
my parents. There I would pour out my griefs, and pray to join them in
the blissful realms of immortality; but a life like this, working upon
a debilitated constitution, soon shattered my intellects, and my reason
became impaired.
One lovely evening in August, I had taken my usual position, and
the stillness of the hour, the serenity of the air, the surrounding
scenery, teeming with the choicest blessings of nature’s store and
gilded by the last rays of the setting sun, operated like enchantment
on my mind; while the solemnity of the lone churchyard, spread with the
turf-raised tenements of death, wrought upon my disordered imagination,
and filled me with a superstitious awe. The darkening shades of
twilight fell heavier on the landscape, and I gazed around with
indescribable sensations, fearing my eyes might rest on some unearthly
form, yet desperately wishing to know the secrets of the clay-cold
prison-house.
At this moment, as the full round moon shed her pale lustre on the
monumental stones, bleached by many a winter’s storm,--at this very
moment, my sight fell upon a strange mysterious figure, crouched near
a new-made grave. Every fibre of my heart was racked to the extreme,
every nerve was strung with maddening resolve. I rushed toward the
spot; but what was my horror, what were the sickening sensations of my
soul, when the figure raised his pale face, and as the moon-beams fell
upon it, I beheld the well-remembered countenance of one who had shared
the pastimes of my boyhood, who had been my fellow-prisoner at Verdun,
whose untimely death I had deplored, and whose mortal remains I had
myself seen consigned to the silent grave. It spoke; the voice seemed
to be the same, though mournful and sepulchral, and every faculty
of my mind seemed to be suspended. Again it spoke, and recognised
me,--changed as I was,--called me by name, and rising from the earth,
stretched forth its hand to welcome me. I shrunk back for an instant,
my brain was suddenly as if on fire, and then again was chilled to icy
coldness; life seemed to tremble on the verge of eternity. I sprang
forward, grasped the extended hand, and fell senseless to the earth. On
again recovering, the spectre was gone, but the recollection flashed
upon my mind. I hastened towards my cottage, and entered it a maniac.
Months passed away in this unhappy state;--sometimes the attendants
were animated by the faint glimmerings of hope, at others they were
prepared to resign me to the angel of death. However, contrary to every
expectation, I slowly recovered my reason and my health, when after
a careful explanation, the fancied spectre again visited me, and was
received as my old, my intimate friend; in short, we had been deceived
respecting his death and burial through the infamous intrigues of
the commandant, Wirrion, and from his own lips I heard the following
account:--
“You may remember, B----, the kindness which many of the prisoners
experienced from the inhabitants at Verdun, and the tender attachments
that united numbers of youthful hearts together, softening the loss
of liberty, and lightening the bonds of imprisonment. Can you forget
Adele,--the beautiful, blooming, innocent Adele? Do you not recollect
the first time we saw her at the gathering in of the vintage, when her
luxuriant auburn hair was entwined with the green leaves of the vine,
and she presided as the queen of the festival? Have you forgotten the
sweet voice that warbled forth such strains of harmony? Yes! you may
forget, but I never can.
“From that moment I loved Adele; from that moment our hearts were
firmly knit together, and every interview served to strengthen our fond
regard. She was an orphan, her parents had perished in the sanguinary
conflicts of the revolution, and she now resided with a widowed aunt,
whose only daughter had pledged her affection to our fellow-prisoner,
Robinson. Euphemia was light-hearted, gay, and full of spirit; Adele
was firm, cheerful, and enthusiastic, but at times a deep melancholy
overshadowed her disposition, nor would she reveal the cause.
“A few months after our first acquaintance, several officers had broken
their parole and escaped, the consequence was a rigid restriction on
the freedom of the rest; but still money at all times could overcome
the watchfulness of the guard. One evening, Robinson and myself had
bribed the _gens d’armes_ to permit our straying as far as the
vineyard. We found Euphemia at the cottage, but Adele had walked to
the verge of the grounds near the town, expecting our approach, and
as we had been compelled to enter them by another path, she was not
aware of our arrival. I immediately hastened towards the spot where I
expected to find her, when a low murmuring sound followed by a faint
shriek, arrested my steps. They were repeated still louder, and the
sound directed me to the place from whence they proceeded. The cry of
distress was enough for a British heart, and forgetting my situation as
a prisoner, forgetting every thing but that some one stood in need of
my assistance, I rushed forward. The shrieks continued, though fainter,
and in a few seconds I reached the spot where Adele, my own sweet
Adele, was struggling with a brute in human form. In an instant he was
prostrate at my feet, and the fainting, innocent maiden clasped to my
breast; but turning my eyes towards the wretch who thus had forfeited
all pretensions to the character of man, I saw my fate was sealed,--it
was the infamous, the cruel Wirrion.
“Before I could recover from my surprise, the villain had sprung upon
his feet and advanced towards us; but stopping short, he gnashed his
teeth, and shaking his clenched hand, exclaimed, ‘Eh bien, monsieur!’
and instantly retreated. ‘You are lost,’ cried Adele, ‘my Henry you are
lost! ’tis his persecutions have made me wretched, and I did not dare
to tell you, lest it might lead to dangerous consequences.’
“We ran to the cottage, related the events which had occurred, and then
bidding the sweet girls farewell, with heavy, dejected spirits Robinson
and I instantly returned to our quarters.
“Day after day passed on, but no public notice was taken of the
transaction. No! the villain played a deeper game. Our minds were kept
in a state of continued alarm by mysterious hints, rigid watchfulness,
and harsh regulations; till at last, in conjunction with our faithful
adherents, who sacrificed all selfish feelings to secure our safety,
we projected our escape, and they prepared to supply us with every
requisite for the purpose. Oppression had stirred up my spirit, and I
longed once more to tread the deck in the service of my country; yet to
leave Adele, whom I so fondly loved, and to leave her too exposed to
such a monster,--my heart sickened at the thought.
“I was sitting in my apartment, agitated by struggles between affection
and duty, reflecting that every means would be employed to shorten my
days if I remained, and the many chances there were against my escape,
when a lad entered and intimated that there was a peasant waiting
below, who wished to deliver a message. The person was introduced, and
we were left alone; but what was my surprise to find, under a peasant’s
garb, my beautiful Adele. She had brought the disguises we were to
assume, and came, as she said, ‘to weep her last farewell!’ Often did I
declare it was impossible to leave her; and as often did she press my
departure with an earnestness that surprised and distressed me.
“Every thing at last was finally arranged, and on the ensuing night,
Robinson and myself were to repair to a particular spot, where, upon a
concerted signal, a faithful guide would be ready to attend us. Short
was our interview,--I pressed her to my heart,--we pledged our solemn
troth,--and--she tore herself away.
“The following morning, Robinson received his instructions, and to
avoid suspicion, we kept within doors through the remainder of the day.
At dusk we sallied forth, and passed the gates just before they were
closed, not without suspicion, but our disguises were so admirably
contrived, as to deceive the penetrating looks of the guard. The night
was dark and stormy, and it was with great difficulty we reached the
suburbs near the vineyard. Here poor Robinson formed the resolution
of once more seeing Euphemia; and though I pointed out the danger,
yet my own heart was involuntarily attracted towards the cottage. We
approached, but were compelled to abandon the design, as the _gens
d’armes_ were evidently on the watch.
“We returned to the spot where our guide was to be in waiting, and
made the signal; but it met with no reply, and we dreaded lest by
delay we had forfeited the opportunity of escape. Crouched behind a
jutting rock, after remaining some time longer in anxious suspense, we
saw a figure moving at a short distance; the signal was again given,
and by being answered, we knew it to be our guide. He appeared, from
his stature, to be a mere lad; but the darkness of the night and a
broad-brimmed hat, concealed every feature of his face. Not a word
passed on either side, and we commenced our march over a rugged track
winding among the rocks, that greatly impeded our progress, till we
came suddenly upon the main road, and the next moment were surrounded
by a troop of cavalry. They interrogated our guide, but he was silent;
they addressed us, and suspecting we were betrayed through the
machinations of Wirrion, I was on the point of venting my indignation
on the guide, when he prevented it by answering we were peasants. The
reply not satisfying the officer, and the guide preparing to pass on,
he struck him a severe blow on the head with the flat of his sword;
a piercing shriek followed, that wrung my soul to agony,--such a
shriek as had once before fell upon my tortured ear; it was Adele,--the
generous, self-devoted Adele,--and she fell into my arms breathless and
bleeding.
“The officer and several of the troop alighted on discovering that our
guide was a female, and every means were used to restore animation,
which, after considerable exertion, proved successful; and we were
informed that our condition was well known, as they had only a short
time before seized the conveyance which was to carry us beyond the
frontiers, and had extorted the whole plot from the driver.
“There are some situations to which human nature may be exposed, that
come like a blight upon the heart, chilling every faculty, and such
was my case now; an icy coldness crept through my whole frame, and a
faint sick shuddering shook every nerve. Adele was still supported in
my arms, but I experienced neither grief nor pleasure; her blood ran
streaming down my breast, but excited neither horror nor resentment;
not a single murmur escaped from my lips, yet an insupportable weight
of anguish pressed heavy on my soul. I heard the curses and execrations
of our captors with indifference; but when they came to force her
from me, then--then my spirit was aroused,--then my dormant faculties
awakened from their stupefaction, and clasping her closer to my heart,
I swore to hold her there till death. The courageous girl clung round
me with all the powerful strength of maddening desperation, but how
futile were our efforts against the united force of such a band! we
were forcibly torn from each other; I saw her tender arms pinioned with
cords; I saw her mounted on one of their horses; my stupor returned,
and I patiently suffered them to bind my hands. Robinson and myself
were conveyed to the citadel, and put in close confinement.
“On the following morning, Wirrion came to our prison, and a ghastly
smile of infernal satisfaction played upon his features. Every epithet
my tongue could lavish on a villain, was poured on him. At first he
shrunk back; but approaching nigher, I heard his detested voice in a
half whisper muttering between his teeth, ‘Remember Adele!’ My hand was
instantly writhed in the wretch’s collar, but the bayonets of the guard
were presented,--nay, even pricked my breast, and the pain compelled
me to quit my hold, and we were condemned to solitary confinement for
breaking our parole. Oh! how many hours and days of agonized suspense
followed close upon each other! and though a cheerful gleam would
sometimes break upon our dreary solitude, yet the uncertainty as to
what had become of those we loved, clouded the brightest moments. In
vain exertions were used in our behalf; we were considered dead to the
world, and all its enjoyments.
“Among the soldiers who did duty near our prison, was an old grenadier,
and sometimes we surprised him gazing at us with deep and marked
emotion; but the moment he found himself observed, he would resume his
ferocious countenance and turn away. On a particular day of festival,
when discipline somewhat relaxed from its severity, our grenadier was
sentry over us, and having looked cautiously around, he growled out
a curse at the English prisoners, and thrust his bayonet towards the
grated bars of the window. At first, I thought he designed to stab me;
but observing something like white paper screwed up in the muzzle of
his firelock, it was instantly in my hand, and the piece withdrawn.
Hope once more played round my heart; it was a note in broken English,
expressive of sympathetic feeling, and promising assistance. The writer
had been a prisoner in England, and had shared the generous hospitality
of my countrymen; but what conveyed the greatest delight to my mind,
was assurances of the safety of the dear girls. After reading this
unexpected epistle, we looked down towards the veteran; but no effort
could again draw his attention, he continued pacing his post till
relieved, without taking the slightest notice. Means of communication
we had none, and several weeks of intense anxiety passed away without
again seeing the grenadier. Wirrion would frequently come to glut his
brutal malice, and never failed to drop some threatening hint of his
future intentions.
“One afternoon, the grenadier again appeared before our prison; but the
other sentinels were too near for him to convey any thing of which he
was possessed, though it appeared evident that such was his intention.
Recollecting the mode of receiving the last communication, I uttered a
torrent of abusive and provoking language; he seemed to understand my
meaning, and thrusting the bayonet through the bars, my hands grasped
the paper, and unfolded an affectionate yet mournful epistle from
Euphemia and Adele. The latter had been imprisoned, and every method
resorted to which was likely to effect her destruction; but, happily,
she had escaped all the machinations of the villain Wirrion. Her wound
had been healed, and she was again restored to liberty. This letter was
enclosed in a paper written on, I believe, by yourself with a pencil.”
“I remember it,” said I; “it was to give you hopes of escape, as
several had united in the cause, determined to set you at liberty; but
the commandant traversed our design. A Frenchman we entrusted, betrayed
our secret.”
“It was so,” he continued; “and from time to time the veteran supplied
us with information. By his means we were furnished with tools to cut
through the bars which confined us; but this was a work of time, and
could only be attempted at those hours when our friend was on sentry,
as the least noise of the file would have betrayed us to the man at the
next post. At last, after a sickening interval of several months, our
task was accomplished, and we waited in anxious expectation for further
instructions.