The two great figures I had seen looming through the fog while standing
in the stream, I at last made out to be two horsemen, who seemed in
search of some safe and fordable part of the stream to cross over. Their
apparent caution was a lesson by which I determined to profit, and I
stood a patient observer of their proceedings. At times I could catch
their voices, but without distinguishing what they said, and suddenly I
heard a plunge, and saw that one had dashed boldly into the flood, and
was quickly followed by the other. If the stream did not reach to
their knees, as they sat, it was yet so powerful that it tested all the
strength of the horses and all the skill of the riders to stem it;
and as the water splashed and surged, and as the animals plunged and
struggled, I scarcely knew whether they were fated to reach the bank, or
be carried down in the current. As they gained about the middle of the
stream, I saw that they were mounted gendarmes, heavy men with heavy
equipments, favorable enough to stem the tide, but hopelessly incapable
to save themselves if overturned. “Go back,--hold in,--go back! the
water is far deeper here!” I cried out at the top of my voice; but
either not hearing, or not heeding my warning, on they came, and, as I
spoke, one plunged forward and went headlong down under the water,
but, rising immediately, his horse struck boldly out, and, after a few
struggles, gained the bank. The other, more fortunate, had headed up the
stream, and reached the shore without difficulty.
With the natural prompting of a man towards those who had just overcome
a great peril, I hastened to say how glad I felt at their safety,
and from what intense fear their landing had rescued me; when one,
a corporal, as his cuff bespoke, muttered a coarse exclamation of
impatience, and something like a malediction on the service that exposed
men to such hazards, and at the same instant the other dashed boldly up
the bank, and with a bound placed his horse at my side, as though to cut
off my retreat.
“Who are you?” cried the corporal to me, in a stern voice.
“A traveller,” said I, trying to look majestic and indignant.
“So I see; and of what nation?”
“Of that nation which no man insults with impunity.”
“Russia?”
“No; certainly not,--England.”
“Whence from last?”
“From Bregenz.”
“And from Constance by Lindau?” asked he quickly, as he read from a slip
of paper he had Just drawn from his belt.
I assented, but not without certain misgivings, as I saw so much was
known as to my movements.
“Now for your passport. Let me see it,” said the corporal again.
“Just so,” said he, folding it up. “Travelling on foot, and marked
'suspected.'”
Though he muttered these words to his companion, I perceived that he
cared very little for my having overheard them.
“Suspected of what, or by whom?” asked I, angrily.
Instead of paying any attention to my question, the two men now
conversed together in a low tone and confidentially.
“Come,” said I, with an assumed boldness, “if you have quite done with
that passport of mine, give it to me, and let me pursue my journey.”
So eager were they in their own converse, that this speech, too, was
unheeded; and now, grown rasher by impunity and impatience, I stepped
stoutly forward, and attempted to take the passport from the soldier's
hand.
“Sturm und Gewitter!” swore out the fellow, while he struck me sharply
on the wrist, “do you mean to try force with us?” And the other drew his
sabre, and, flourishing it over his head, held the point of it within a
few inches of my chest.
I cannot imagine whence came the courage that now filled my heart, for
I know I am not naturally brave, but I felt for an instant that I could
have stormed a breach; and, with an insulting laugh, I said, “Oh, of
course, cut me down. I am unarmed and defenceless. It is an admirable
opportunity for the display of Austrian chivalry.”
“Bey'm Henker! It's very hard not to slice off his ear,” said the
soldier, seeming to ask leave for this act of valor.
“Get out your cords,” said the corporal; “we 're losing too much time
here.”
“Am I a prisoner, then?” asked I, in some trepidation.
“L suspect you are, and likely to be for some time to come,” was the
gruff answer.
“On what charge--what is alleged against me?” cried I, passionately.
“What has sent many a better-looking fellow to Spielberg,” was the
haughty rejoinder.
“If I _am_ your prisoner,” said I, haughtily,--“and I warn you at
once of your peril in daring to arrest a British subject travelling
peacefully--You are not going to tie my hands! You are not going to
treat me as a felon?” I screamed out these words in a voice of wildest
passion, as the soldier, who had dismounted for the purpose, was now
proceeding to tie my wrists together with a stout cord, and in a manner
that displayed very little concern for the pain he occasioned me.
As escape was totally out of the question, I threw myself upon the last
resource of the injured. I fell back upon eloquence. I really wish I
could remember even faintly the outline of my discourse; for though
not by any means a fluent German, the indignation that makes men poets
converted me into a greater master of prose, and I told them a vast
number of curious, but not complimentary, traits of the land they
belonged to. I gave, too, a rapid historical sketch of their campaigns
against the French, showing how they were always beaten, the only
novelty being whether they ran away or capitulated. I reminded them
that the victory over _me_ would resound through Europe, being the
only successful achievement of their arms for the last half-century. I
expressed a fervent hope that the corporal would be decorated with the
“Maria Theresa,” and his companion obtain the “valor medal,” for what
they had done. Pensions, I hinted, were difficult in the present state
of their finances, but rank and honor certainly ought to await them.
I don't know at what exact period of my peroration it was that I was
literally “pulled up,” each of the horsemen holding a line fastened to
my wrists, and giving me a drag forward that nearly carried me off my
feet, and flat on my face. I stumbled, but recovered myself; and now saw
that, bound as I was, with a gendarme on each side of me, it required
all the activity I could muster, to keep my legs.
Another whispered conversation here took place across me, and I thought
I heard the words Bregenz and Feldkirch interchanged, giving me to
surmise that they were discussing to which place they should repair.
My faint hope of returning to the former town was, however, soon
extinguished, as the corporal, turning to me, said, “Our orders are to
bring you alive to headquarters. We 'll do our best; but if, in crossing
these torrents, you prefer to be drowned, it's no fault of ours.”
“Do you mean by that,” cried I, “that I am to be dragged through the
water in this fashion?”
“I mean that you are to come along as best you may.”
“It is all worthy of you, quite worthy!” screamed I, in a voice of
wildest rage. “You reserve all your bravery for those who cannot resist
you,--and you are right, for they are your only successes. The Turks
beat you”--here they chucked me close up, and dashed into the stream.
“The Prussians beat you!” I was now up to my waist in water. “The Swiss
beat you!” Down I went over head and ears. “The French always--thrashed
you”--down again--“at Ulm--Auster--litz--Aspern”--nearly suffocated,
I yelled out, “Wagrara!”--and down I went, never to know any further
consciousness till I felt myself lying on the soaked and muddy road,
and heard a gruff voice saying, “Come along--we don't intend to pass the
night here!”