The first thing that the Barclays did, after reporting themselves,
was to settle themselves in a lodging--no very easy thing to find,
for the town was crowded with troops, and prisoners. However, as
they were able to pay a higher sum than the great majority of
French officers, in their position, they had no very great
difficulty in finding a place to suit them. The rooms were
purposely taken in a large house, with a staircase common to a
number of families living on different floors; so that anyone going
in or out would be less likely to be noticed than in a smaller
house. They were also careful in choosing rooms so placed that they
could go in and out of the door on to the staircase, without being
noticed by the people with whom they lodged.
Ralph's arm was now extremely painful, the long march having
inflamed the wound. He had, therefore, on reporting himself, begged
that a surgeon might attend him; and had also asked, as a great
favor, that his servant--the hussar Doyle--might be allowed to
remain with him; stating that, in that case, he would pay for his
lodgings and provide him with food. As the prison in which the
private soldiers were confined was, at the time, crowded; the
request was complied with.
For the next week Ralph suffered greatly with his arm, and had to
keep his room. After that the inflammation subsided; and in another
fortnight he was able to dispense, for the first time since he
received his wound, with a sling. In the meantime he had made the
acquaintance of the people with whom he lodged; who were very kind
to their wounded lodger, and whose hearts he completely won by
being able to chat to them in their native tongue, like one of
themselves. The family consisted of a father, who was away all day
at the railway station, where he was a clerk; the mother, a
garrulous old woman; and a daughter, a pretty blue-eyed girl of
about Ralph's age, who assisted her mother to wait upon them. She
had a lover, away as a soldier in the army besieging Paris; and the
thought that he might be wounded, or taken prisoner, made her very
pitiful to the young officers.
Ralph Barclay had--for some days--been intending to sound her as to
her willingness to aid them when she, herself, began it one day.
She had cleared away their dinner, and was standing--as she often
did--talking with them, when she lowered her voice, so as not to be
overheard by her mother in the next room:
"I wonder you don't try to get away. Lots of French officers have
done so."
"That is just what we are thinking of, Christine. We have only been
waiting till my arm was out of a sling, and we want you to help
us."
"How can I help you?" the girl asked.
"In the first place, you can buy us clothes. It would excite
suspicion if we were to buy them, ourselves. Percy and I were
thinking of going as girls--not pretty girls, of course, like you,
Christine--but great, rough peasant girls."
Christine laughed, and colored
"You would be too tall," she said.
"We should be rather tall," Ralph said, ruefully. "We have grown so
horribly, in the last few months. Still, some women are as tall as
we are."
"Yes, some women are," Christine said, "but men look after them and
say, 'What big, gawky women!' and you don't want to be looked
after. If people did so, they would see that you didn't walk one
bit like a woman, and that your shoulders were very wide, and your
arms very strong, and--
"Oh no! It wouldn't do at all. I must think it over.
"I suppose you want that great blue-coated bear to go?" and she
nodded at Tim Doyle who--not being able to speak a word of her
language--was always indulging in the most absurd pantomime of love
and devotion; causing screams of laughter to the merry German girl.
"Yes, Tim must go too, Christine."
"Ha, ha!" laughed the girl. "Fancy him as a woman."
"What is she saying about me, Mister Percy?"
"She says you would make a very pretty woman, Tim."
"Tare and ages, Mister Percy," Tim said, taking it quite seriously,
"how could I do it, at all? I'd have to shave off all my beautiful
beard and mustaches and, even then, I doubt if you would mistake me
for a woman."
The boys screamed with laughter, and translated the Irishman's
speech to Christine; who laughed so that her mother came into the
room.
"Look here, children," she said, smiling, "I don't want to know
what you are talking about. If anything of any sort happens, I may
be asked questions; and I don't want to have to tell stories. I
can't help hearing, if you leave the door open, and laugh
so--indeed, all the neighborhood might hear it; so please shut the
door, in future."
So saying, she again went back to her work in the next room.
"Goodbye, I'm going, too," Christine said. "I will think it over,
by tomorrow morning, and tell you what you are to do."
The next morning, the boys were very anxious to hear Christine's
proposals; for although they had quite made up their minds to try
their own plan, if hers was not feasible, still they felt that,
with her knowledge of the country, she was likely, at any rate, to
give them good advice.
Until she had cleared away breakfast, Christine said nothing. Then
she took out her knitting, and sat against the window.
"Now," she began, "I will tell you what I have thought of. It would
be easy enough, if it was not for him. He's so big, and so red, and
he doesn't speak German.
"Oh dear, he's very tiresome!" and she shook her head at Tim; who
smiled, laid his hand on his breast, and endeavored to look
affecting.
Christine laughed.
"The only thing I can think of, for him, is that he shall go out as
a Jew peddler; with one of their broad hats, and a tray of little
trinkets. He might pass, if none of the soldiers took it into their
heads to buy."
The proposition was translated to Tim Doyle.
"Is it me, your honor--me, Tim Doyle, a good Catholic, and come of
honest people--that's to turn myself into a haythin Jew?" the
Irishman burst out, with great indignation. "It was bad enough that
I should be made into a woman, but a haythin Jew! I put it to your
honors, it's nayther sinsible nor dacent."
The boys went off in screams of laughter. Christine laughed for a
moment, too, when they translated Tim's speech to her; and then
looked indignant that the proposition, which had cost her so much
thought, should be so scornfully rejected.
Tim saw the look, and at once went on, persuasively:
"Sure now, darlint Miss Christine, don't be angry wid me, out of
your bright blue eyes! But is it raisonable--is it natural to ask a
Christian man to make a haythin Jew of himself? Would you like it,
yourself?"
When the boys could stop laughing, they translated Tim's appeal.
"Did you ever see such an absurd man?" she said, laughing. "As if
it could make any difference to his religion. Tell him I am a good
Catholic, too, but I should not mind dressing up as a Jewess."
"Sure, thin, darlint," Tim exclaimed, when her speech was
translated, "I will go as a Jew, directly, if you'll go with me and
be my Jewess."
Christine laughed, blushed, shook her head and said, "Nonsense!"
upon hearing Tim's proposition.
"But seriously, Christine," Ralph said, "the objection which you
mention to the Jew pedlar's disguise is important. Full as the
streets are of soldiers looking about, he could hardly hope to go
from here through the streets, and out at the gate, without someone
asking him about the contents of his box."
Christine allowed--a little pettishly, at the failure of her
plan--that it certainly was likely.
"The real difficulty is to get outside the gate," Ralph said,
thoughtfully. "After that, I should have no fear."
"What are you thinking of doing, then?" Christine asked.
"I was thinking of dressing Percy, and myself, in the clothes of
young peasants; and putting Tim into something of the same sort,
with a great bandage round his face. Then I should say that we were
two lads, from some place near the frontier, who had come here to
meet our uncle; who had had his jaw shattered, in battle. That
would explain Tim's not being able to talk at all; and as to looks,
he is red enough for a German, anywhere."
"Yes," Christine said, "that would do, very well; but of course,
you would be liable to be asked for papers."
"Of course," Ralph said, "but we must risk something."
"I have an idea," Christine said, suddenly, clapping her hands. "I
have some cousins living at Wiesbaden. These are three boys, and I
am sure they would do anything for me. I will go out to Wiesbaden,
tomorrow, and ask them to lend me their papers, just for one day.
Wiesbaden is not your way, at all; but for that very reason you
would get out more easily there, and be less likely to be
suspected, or followed. You could cross the Rhine somewhere near
Saint Goar.
"I shall have to tell some sad stories to my cousins, and coax them
a great deal. Still, I daresay I shall succeed; and then you can go
boldly across the bridge, and into the railway station, and take a
ticket for Wiesbaden. You can have an envelope, ready directed, and
put the papers into the post there."
"The very thing, Christine. You are a darling!" Ralph exclaimed,
catching her by the waist and kissing her, before she had time to
think of resistance.
"I shan't do anything at all for you," Christine said, laughing and
blushing, "if you misbehave in that way."
"I couldn't help it, Christine--not even if your mother had been
looking on.
"And now, about our clothes."
"I couldn't buy them," Christine said. "I never could go into a
shop and buy men's clothes."
The thing was so evident that, for a moment, the boys' looks fell.
Then Christine said, coloring very much:
"There is a box, in my room, of Karl's things. He is my cousin, you
know; and he was working as a gardener, here, till he had to go out
in the Landwehr--so, of course, he left his things here, for us to
take care of. He is about your size. I will take out one suit--it
won't hurt it--and you can put it on, and go out into the town, and
buy the things for all three of you."
"Capital!" the boys exclaimed. "It couldn't be better."
Ten minutes afterwards, Ralph went down the stairs and out into the
street, dressed as a German laborer in his best suit. He was a
little uneasy, at first; but no one noticed him, and he was soon in
a shop, haggling over the price of a peasant's coat--as if the
matter of a thaler, one way or other, was a thing of vital
importance to him. He bought the three suits at three different
shops--as he thought that it would look suspicious, if he were to
get them all at the same--and in an hour was back again. An hour
afterwards, Christine started for Wiesbaden.
The Barclays had reason to congratulate themselves that they had
not longer deferred their preparations for escape; for when
presenting themselves, as usual, that afternoon at the roll call,
they were told that they must hold themselves in readiness to leave
for one of the eastern fortresses, upon the following evening; as
another large batch of prisoners, from Metz, was expected to arrive
upon the following day.
In the evening, Christine returned from Wiesbaden; which is distant
only a quarter of an hour, by rail, from Mayence.
"I have got them," she said, "but if you only knew the trouble I
have had! What a bother boys are, to be sure!"
"Especially cousins--eh, Christine?"
"Especially cousins," Christine said, demurely.
After thanking her very warmly for her kindness, the Barclays
started out, and bought a variety of things which they thought
might be useful. They also bought a pretty gold watch and chain, to
give to Christine as a parting present.
The next morning they answered, as usual, to their early roll call;
and then, returning at once to their lodgings, changed their
clothes for those which Ralph had purchased. It was agreed that
they should not say goodbye to Christine's mother; in order that,
whatever she might suspect, she might be able to say that she knew
nothing of any idea, on the part of her lodgers, to make their
escape. Then Christine herself came in, to say goodbye; and went
half wild with delight, at the present. Then she said goodbye,
kissed the boys--without any affectation of objecting to it--and
then went to a window, to watch if they went safely down the
street.
The boys had no uneasiness, whatever, upon their own account--for
they had before passed so easily, among the Prussian troops, that
they felt quite confident in their disguise--but they were
uncomfortable as to Tim, whose inability to answer questions would
have at once betrayed them, had anyone addressed him. They had not
ventured to bandage up his face, as if wounded; as he would have
naturally, in that case, had a military pass. As the best thing
they could think of, they had shoved a large lump of cotton into
one of his cheeks--which gave him the appearance of having a
swelled face--and had instructed him to frequently put his hand up
to it, as if in great pain. Tim had plenty of shrewdness, and acted
his part admirably.
They passed across the bridge of boats, without question; and into
the railway station, which is just opposite its end. Here soldiers
and other officials swarmed; but the three walked along carelessly,
the two boys chatting together in German, Tim walking with his hand
up to his face, and giving an occasional stamp of pain. He sat down
with Percy on a seat in the station, while Ralph went to the little
window where tickets were being delivered. There were a good many
people waiting and, when it came to Ralph's turn, and he put the
papers in at the window, and asked for three third-class tickets to
Wiesbaden, the clerk scarcely glanced at them; but handed the
tickets over, without a question.
They then went into the third-class waiting room, and sat down.
There were a good many peasants, and others there; and when the
doors opened for them to go on to the platform, and enter the
carriages, they saw it was hopeless to try and get a carriage to
themselves. They did, therefore, the best they could; putting Tim
next to the window, while Percy sat next to, and Ralph opposite to
him. The rest of the compartment was filled with country people.
"He seems in great pain," a good-natured peasant woman said, to
Ralph; as Tim rocked himself backwards and forwards, in his
anguish.
"Yes, he is very bad," Ralph said.
"Toothache?" asked the woman.
"Worse than that," Ralph said, gravely, "an abscess in the jaw. He
has just been to the hospital."
"Poor fellow!" the woman said. "Why does he not poultice it?
"I should advise you to poultice," she said, addressing Tim.
Tim gave a grunt--which might have meant anything--and Ralph said,
in a whisper:
"Don't talk to him. Poor uncle, he is so bad tempered, now, it puts
him in a rage if anyone speaks to him; because it hurts him so, to
answer. At ordinary times, he is very good tempered; but now, oh!"
and Ralph made a little pantomime, to express the extreme badness
of Tim's temper.
"You are not of Wiesbaden, are you?" the woman asked. "I do not
know you by sight."
"No," Ralph said; "we are from Holzhausen, a village some eight
miles upon the other side of Wiesbaden."
"Ah!" the woman said, "I have a sister living there; surely you
must know her. She is the wife of Klopstock, the carpenter."
"Surely," Ralph said, "she is my neighbor; everyone knows her. She
is very like you."
"Well now, you are the first person who has ever said that," the
woman said, surprised. "I am so short, and she is so tall."
"Yes, she is tall--very tall," Ralph said, very gravely; "but there
is something about the expression of your eyes which reminds me of
Mrs. Klopstock.
"Yes, the more I look at you, the more I see it," and Ralph looked
so earnestly, at the woman, that Percy had the greatest difficulty
in preventing himself going off into a shout of laughter.
"I wonder I have never seen you, at Holzhausen," Ralph continued.
"Well," the woman said, "it is years since I have been there. You
see, it is a long way, and my sister often comes into Wiesbaden,
and I see her; but in truth, her husband and I don't get on very
well together. You know his temper is--" and she lifted up her
hands.
"Yes, indeed," Ralph said. "His temper is, as you say, terrible.
Between ourselves, it is so well known that we have a saying, 'As
bad tempered as Klopstock the carpenter.' One can't say more than
that--
"But we are at Wiesbaden. Good morning."
"Good morning. I hope your uncle's tooth will be better, ere long."
"I hope so, indeed, for all our sakes," Ralph said. "He is as bad
as Klopstock, at present."
So saying, they got out of the train and walked into the town. When
they had separated from the crowd, Percy could restrain himself no
longer, and went off into a scream of laughter.
"What is it, Mister Percy?" Tim asked, opening his lips for the
first time since they had left the house.
"Oh, Tim, if you had but heard!" Percy said, when he recovered his
voice. "Do you know you are as bad tempered as Klopstock, the
carpenter?"
"Sure, I never heard tell of him, Mister Percy; and if I have been
bad tempered, I haven't said much about it; and if the carpenter
had a wad of cotton as big as a cricket ball in one cheek, as I
have, it's small blame to him if he was out of temper."
Both the boys laughed, this time; and then Ralph explained the
whole matter to Tim, who laughed more heartily than either of them.
"Which way shall we go, Ralph?"
"I looked at the map, the last thing before starting, Percy; and I
noticed that the road went out past the gambling place. I dare not
take out the map again, to look at the plan of the town--it would
look too suspicious--so let us wander about, till we find the
place. It has large grounds, so we cannot miss it."
They were not long in finding the place they were looking for.
There was no mistaking it; with its long arcades leading up to the
handsome conversation rooms, its piece of water, and its
beautifully laid-out grounds.
"I should like to go in, and have a look at it," Percy said. "I can
hear the band playing, now."
"So should I," Ralph said, "but time is too precious. They will
find out at the muster, this afternoon, that we are missing and, as
we answered this morning, they will know that we cannot have got
far. We had better put as many miles between us as we can.
"First of all, though, let us put those papers Christine got us
into the envelope, and drop them into that post box. We should not
do badly, either, to buy three dark-colored blankets before we
start. It is terribly cold; and we shall want them, at night."
They therefore turned up into the town again; and then Ralph
separated from the others, and went in and bought the blankets. Ten
minutes later they were walking along, at a steady pace, from the
town. Each carried a stick. The boys carried theirs upon their
shoulder; with a bundle, containing a change of clothes and other
articles, slung upon it. Tim carried his bundle in one hand, and
walked using his stick in the other. When a short distance out of
the town, they stopped in a retired place; and put some strips of
plaster upon Tim's cheeks, and wrapped up his face with a white
bandage. It was, as he said, "mighty uncomfortable," but as he was
now able to dispense with the ball of cotton in his mouth, he did
not so much mind it.
The day was bitterly cold, for it was now the beginning of the
second week of November; but the party strode on, full of the
consciousness of freedom. They met but few people, upon their way;
and merely exchanged a brief good day with those they did meet.
They had brought some bread and cold meat with them, from Mayence;
and therefore had no need to go into any shops, at the villages
they passed.
They did not dare to sleep in a house, as it was certain that some
official would inquire for their papers; and therefore, when it
became dark, they turned off from the road and made for a wood, at
a short distance from it. Here they ate their supper, laid a
blanket on the ground, put the bundles down for pillows, and lay
down close together, putting the other two blankets over them.
"It's mighty cold," Tim said, "but we might be worse."
"It's better than a prison in Pomerania, by a long way," Ralph
answered. "By the look of the sky, and the dropping of the wind, I
think we shall have snow before morning."
At daybreak, next morning, they were up; but it was some little
time before they could start, so stiffened were their limbs with
the cold. Ralph's prognostication as to the weather had turned out
right, and a white coating of snow lay over the country. They now
set off and walked, for an hour, when they arrived at a large
village. Here it was agreed they should go in, and buy something to
eat. They entered the ale house, and called for bread, cheese, and
beer.
The landlord brought it and, as they expected, entered into
conversation with them. After the first remarks--on the sharpness
of the weather--Ralph produced a tin of portable soup, and asked
the landlord if he would have it heated, for their uncle.
"He cannot, as you see, eat solid food," Ralph said; "He had his
jaw broken by a shell, at Woerth."
"Poor fellow!" the landlord said, hastening away with the soup.
"Are you going far?" he asked, on his return.
"To Saint Goar," Ralph said.
"But why does he walk?" the landlord asked. "He could have been
sent home, by train."
"Of course he could," Ralph said. "We walked over to see him, and
intended to have walked back again; but when the time came for us
to start, he said he would come, too. The surgeon said he was not
fit to go. Uncle had made up his mind to be off and, as the surgeon
would not give him an order, he started to walk. He says it does
not hurt him so much as the jolting of the train, and we shall be
home to breakfast."
An hour later they arrived at Saint Goarshaus. They were now quite
out of the track which prisoners escaping from Mayence would be
likely to take, and had not the slightest difficulty in getting a
boat to cross the Rhine.
"How beautiful the river is, here," Percy said.
"Yes it is, indeed," Ralph answered. "I believe that this is
considered one of the most lovely spots on the whole river. I can't
say that I think that that railway, opposite, improves it."
They landed at Saint Goar, and tramped gaily on to Castellan, and
slept in a barn near that village.
The next morning they were off before daybreak and, eight miles
farther, crossed the Moselle at Zell. They left the road before
they arrived at Alf; for they were now approaching the great road
between Coblentz and the south, and might come upon bodies of
troops upon the march, or halting; and might be asked troublesome
questions. They therefore struck upon a country lane and, keeping
among the hills, crossed the main road between Bertrich and
Wittlech; and slept in a copse, near Dudeldf. They had walked
five-and-thirty miles, and were so dead beat that even the cold did
not keep them awake.
Next morning they got a fresh supply of bread and cheese, at a tiny
village between Dudeldf and Bittburg and, leaving the latter place
to the left, made straight for the frontier, across the hills. The
road to the frontier ran through Bittburg; but they were afraid of
keeping to it, as there were sure to be troops at the frontier.
Several times they lost their way; but the pocket compass and map,
which they had brought with them, stood them in good stead and,
late in the evening, they arrived at the stream which forms the
frontier. It was, fortunately, very low; for the cold had frozen up
its sources. They had, therefore, little difficulty in crossing
and, tired as they were, gave a cheer upon finding themselves in
Luxembourg.
They tramped along merrily, until they came to a cottage; where
they boldly entered, and were received with the greatest kindness,
and hospitality. The Luxembourg people at once feared and hated
Prussia, and were delighted to do anything in their power for the
escaped prisoners. The peasant made a blazing fire, and some hot
coffee; and the tired travelers felt what a blessing it was to sit
down without listening, every moment, for the step of an enemy.
The peasants told them, however, that they were not yet altogether
safe for that, owing to the complaints of Prussia, both the Dutch
and Belgian Governments were arresting, and detaining, escaped
prisoners passing through their territories. After some discussion
the boys agreed that, next morning, they should dress themselves in
the change of clothes they had brought--which were ordinary
shooting suits--and should leave their other clothes behind; and
then walk as far as Spa, twenty miles to the north. They would
excite no suspicion in the minds of anyone who saw them arrive; as
they would merely be taken for three Englishmen, staying at one of
the numerous hotels there, returning from a walk. Their feet
however were so much swollen, the next morning, that they were glad
to remain another day quiet in the cottage; and the following day
they started, and walked gaily into Spa.
After strolling about the place, some time, they went to the
railway station at the time the evening train started for Brussels;
asked for tickets--in very English French--and, at eleven o'clock
at night, entered Brussels. Here their troubles were over. A good
night's rest, in a good hotel, completely set them up again and,
the next morning, they left by train for Dunkirk.
There they reported themselves to the French officer in command;
and received permission to go on board a Government steamer which
was to leave, the next morning, for Cherbourg.