A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.
BY JAMES BARNES.
CHAPTER XIII.
A FRENCH LEAVE-TAKING.
I could well write a book describing the two months of my life that I spent as an English prisoner of war; but as this is to be a record of my adventures alone, I fear me I would take up too much time if I should allow this fact to leave my mind.
We were awakened early in the morning, and orders were given us to get our baggage ready, as we were going to be transferred from the frigate to one of the prison-ships. The order to get our "baggage" must have been a bit of sarcasm, as there was none of us who possessed a spare shirt to his back.
Our breakfast was doled out to us on the upper deck, and we hastened down the gangway. Such a multitude of bumboats and small craft I had never seen as surrounded the vessel. There was a great hubbub on all sides, and our departure, being such a small number, created little comment. A launch was waiting for us, and one by one we jumped into her stern-sheets.
I almost forgot I was a prisoner in looking about me, for it all was new. I saw more ships gathered together than I had ever seen in the whole course of my life. Some were twice as large as the 74 Plantagenet that I had seen from the deck of the Minetta.
We rowed under the stern of a great vessel pierced on one side for sixty guns.
"This is the sort of a craft," said Sutton, pointing, "that Nelson and their Admirals won battles with. She could swing the Young Eagle at her side; eh, youngster?"
And well she could, I think, for it struck me that she was more of a floating fort than a sailing craft. Sheer-hulks and vessels outfitting crowded the inner harbor, and the constant hammering, tapping, and picking of an army of calkers filled the air.
When we reached the gangway on the port side we climbed up to the tall gallery. I had to smile. We might have been royal personages making a visit, for such ceremony I have never seen equalled. We passed between two files of marines and were inspected by three different groups of officers. They asked questions, and for some time seemed to be quite confident that Sutton was an Englishman. In this belief they were somewhat shaken when they saw his tattoo decorations, however.
At last our names were taken, and we passed below into the foul-smelling air of the 'tween-decks. Five or six hundred men were confined on board this ship, and as the guards had a generous portion set apart for themselves, the prisoners were much crowded. But we were not going to be kept here long; and although the time seemed to go slowly and was certainly most tedious, only a week elapsed before we were informed that we were going to be taken to a large prison near the town of Bristol.
On the twelfth day we were landed on the dock in Plymouth, and the dry ground felt odd to our feet, I can tell you. As luck had it, Sutton, Craig, and myself were in the first draft. It took us several days to travel from Plymouth to Bristol, being closely guarded by a squadron of cavalry and a battalion of infantry on the route.
It was a bright afternoon when we arrived on the outskirts of the city, where we halted but a few minutes, and I learned that we were yet several miles from Stapleton, where the prisons were situated. Despite our fatigue, we were hastened along a broad, dusty road that led to the north.
At six o'clock we skirted the edge of a vast domain that I found, by asking, was the private estate of the Duke of Devonshire, and before we knew it we were halted in front of a long row of stone buildings, behind the barred gratings of which appeared hundreds of pallid faces. As we passed over the drawbridge spanning the deep moat, we entered the court-yard, and found ourselves with the brown sombre prison-houses on either hand.
The chatter of French sounded all about us, for the majority of the prisoners were Frenchmen taken in the wars against Napoleon. The Americans were domiciled in a building apart from the Frenchmen, and did not appear to enjoy the garrulous, half-contented spirit of the others.
Thus began two months of prison life that I shall dismiss with a few words, although, as I hinted, I could write a volume about it.
A huge prison, in which are confined some five or six thousand men (our numbers were swelled every day by new drafts of American prisoners and Frenchmen) is much like a city. We had theatrical companies, markets, and exchanges, and men quarrelled and gambled, and plied their trades or callings to some advantage. Time passed quickly, although one day was much like another. We were well guarded and fairly well fed, although clothing and foot-gear were at a premium.
My size and strength had apparently increased since I had left Belair. I stood six feet in height before I was nineteen years of age, and I afterwards added two inches more to this. In the sports, especially in foot-races and wrestling, I found myself a leader. Of course no one could live in such a community as this, even for a short time, without picking up a great deal of useful knowledge, besides imbibing much also that would serve no one in good stead except perhaps as a warning.
My knowledge of the French tongue enabled me to converse with the Frenchmen, and I whiled away many an hour by talking with them and reading a romance so smirched by constant handling as to be almost undecipherable. A small volume of Shakespeare, belonging to an ex-schoolmaster, who kindly loaned it to me, I pored over by the hour.
One day there came a little excitement in our life, and a great hallooing and huzzahing resounded through the prison. It was a reception tendered to a division of the crew of the luckless Chesapeake that was transferred from the hulks to join us. We got up an entertainment in their honor that evening.
Now to come to the evening of the 16th of September, 1813, that I can set down in this chronicle in large important letters; for on this date, by a combination of fortunate circumstances, I ceased to be a prisoner. It happened thus:
The officers attached to the military force stationed at the prison lived together in a small building at the southwest corner of the rectangle formed by the high walls. Through the building which they occupied a passage ran to a small postern-gate. On several occasions I had been over there bearing messages from the prison-keeper (I was one of the monitor officers in charge of the order of my section of the west wing). But of course I had never progressed further than the small antechamber that opened into the guard-room, where I would wait to secure an audience with the commandant or one of his subordinates.
Now on this day I was bound to see a strange condition of affairs—the orderly who generally stood at the door was missing from his post. It was past dusk, and as I pushed in I noticed that the entrance to the guard-room, usually filled with soldiers, was shut. I thought of giving a hail, but then perceiving also that the entrance into the main building was gaping wide, impelled by a sudden impulse I stepped across the threshold into the hallway. I could hear voices coming from somewhere; but a room to the right appeared to be empty; a candle was burning on top of a tall dressing-case, and there across the foot of a narrow cot lay spread the uniform of a Lieutenant; and a great bear-skin shako, with a tall plume, topped one of the bedposts.
Now I think to do what I did then took more courage than anything I have ever attempted. I gave a leap sideways into the room, and closed the door behind me. Actually panting from excitement, I tore off the rags which served me for clothing, and shaking from head to foot I donned the uniform. Luckily the clothes were made for a large man, and they fitted me to perfection. I glanced at myself in the glass as I put the towering head-gear on as a finishing-touch. I was a strange-looking object. My hair, which was long, was done sailor fashion down my back in a queue, but the locks straggled down my cheeks; and, young as I was, my appearance would have been improved by the use of a razor. But I gathered my hair on the top of my head, where it was kept by the weight of the shako, and then I stepped to the door. The voices had ceased, but I plainly perceived that some one was coming down the corridor, which was flagged with stone; the jingling of spurs echoed along the walls. Hastily I closed the door, and extinguished the light with a pinch of my fingers. It was good for me that I had done this, for whoever it was gave the door a push and thrust in his head. How he ever missed seeing me (for I could have struck him with my knee) I cannot see to this day. It was one of the general officers, and attired for duty evidently, as he carried a long sabre hitched under his arm.
"Humph! Not here," he said. "A pretty piece of business."
Then away he clanked, and I heard the slamming of a door to another apartment. I knew that probably he came from the outside, and that the way to freedom, or at least to the open air, must be in the direction from which he was walking. I stepped out into the passageway and tiptoed down it. Then thinking that cautious steps might attract notice, I changed my gait to a military stride, and swaggered along with chest out and shoulders back. My doing this was fortunate, for I went by the open entrance of a small apartment, and a young man in undress uniform sat reading a book with the aid of a small lamp. He glanced out at me, but made no comment. I had affected to yawn, and half covered my face with my hand.
Now I came to the end of the corridor, and here were three doors; the one on the left shut, the centre one partly ajar, and the one on the right closed with large bolts. Looking through the door that was open, I could perceive a man's leg stretched out on a chair as if he were resting, so I turned to the one on the left. I was about to draw the latch when from within I heard the sound of voices in conversation.
"Good for you! Now another throw," some one said. Then came the rattle of a dice-box.
There was nothing for it but to try the farther door, the one that was bolted, and to do this I had to run the risk of attracting the man's attention in the middle room. I stepped by, and giving a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw that he was asleep, with his mouth wide open and his arms folded across his chest. With trembling fingers I drew the bolt of the heavy, iron-studded door, and swung it open.
Here was another passageway much like the first, with rooms on either side and a staircase in a recess at the farther end. Good fortune still favored me. I tramped down it, and found that to go out I had evidently to ascend the steps. When I reached the foot and had placed my hand on the iron guard-rail, I almost gave a gasp of sheer fright. There standing on a little platform at the top was a grenadier, with his musket leaning against him. He had caught sight of me, however, at this same instant; the hall was dimly lighted with a flickering taper, and I was in full view.
THE MAN DREW HIMSELF ERECT, AND HIS MUSKET SNAPPED TO A PRESENT.
But to my surprise the man said nothing, but drew himself erect and his musket snapped to a present. Drawing the heavy cloak that I had thrown about my shoulders up to my nose, I hurried up the steps and returned the soldier's salute in proper manner, but with shaking fingers, as I passed him.
Here I was in the open air, and from the entrance a narrow causeway or bridge led to the top of the wall. But all danger was not over, for at the farther end stood two more red-coated gentry. One had called the attention of the other to my approach, and there they were, drawn up like two statues at attention. I should have to go between them. But the light was very dim, and only boldness could serve my purpose. So I gazed directly at them, and with a great bound of my heart in my throat, I saw that I was going to be successful. They presented arms as I brushed by.
A small flight of stairs led down the wall on the outside, and here the ditch was spanned by a foot-bridge, and on the bank stood another sentry. I had wondered why I had not been asked for a password of some sort, and now I feared that this last man would prove my downfall, and that surely I would be stopped and asked some question. I hesitated as I stood there half-way down the steps, and at this instant I noticed the sentry across the bridge bring his musket to a half-charge with a ring of his accoutrements. In the dusk I could see four or five figures approaching, and then I heard the sentry call them to halt.
I could not make out the words that followed, but it was all merely perfunctory business I recognized, as the approaching figures were officers. Now fear often gives a man a judgment and cleverness that support him in sore straits. There was but one chance, and I took it. I turned about, retraced my steps, passed the two sentries, who saluted me once more, then again the third man at the head of the stairway, and I was back in the corridor.
When I had turned the angle of the passage, I entered one of the rooms, and crouched down behind a curtain, holding my big hat in my lap. My teeth chattered so that I feared the noise would be audible, and I had been just in time, as, laughing and talking, the officers were approaching.
As I sat crouched in a corner I perceived that they had some huge joke among them. They were walking slowly, and I heard distinctly what passed.
"The idea of Tillinghast forgetting the countersign strikes me as being grand," exclaimed some one, with a guffaw at the end of the sentence.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed another. "I told you it was the author of Robinson Crusoe, Tilly."
"Why, confound it all! I always thought that he himself wrote the book," roared a deep bass.
I recognized the speaker as the junior in command of the prison. It was his clothes, by-the-way, that I had on my back at the moment.
"I think the Governor chose it for a play on words," said another. "A poor pun even for him."
"Why we should require a password at all is more than I can see," said Tillinghast. "Come down to my quarters, Carntyne. We have time for a game of whist."
They passed on. I waited a few minutes, putting two and two together, and suddenly it came to me. I had the password at the tip of my tongue! Hastily arising, I stepped outside of the room. It was but a few yards to the bottom of the stairs, and I heard the sentry humming a snatch of a tune, and keeping time to it with the stamping of his feet in a sort of a jig. I was afraid that if I approached him the way that I had done before, he might look closer, so I made believe that I was carrying on the fag end of a conversation with some one, and answered an imaginary question with a laugh (a trifle forced, I must admit).
"No, thanks," I said; "you gentlemen are too much for me. I must hasten. Eh?" (A pause.) "I shall be back by nine o'clock, but I must hurry." Then I charged up the steps as if the devil was after me. The grenadier had hardly time to salute me; and I rushed past the other two at the end of the causeway at the same pace. They made some remark after I had gone by, but I did not catch it. More leisurely I descended the steps on the outside of the wall, and crossed the little foot-bridge to where the last sentry stood. His musket barred my path, but it was a respectful attitude.
"The word, sir?" he said, slurring the usual challenge.
"Defoe," I answered. He hesitated. "Daniel Defoe," I repeated, restraining with difficulty a mad impulse to close with him and pitch him headlong into the ditch.
The response to this was a backward step on the sentry's part, and a stiff attitude of present arms. I replied with somewhat of a flourish, and hastened down the path. It led across a sort of common, bordered by twinkling lights shining from some vine-covered houses, and in the stillness I heard the sound of a fiddle played somewhere, and from another direction the voice of an infant crying at top lung. What was I to do? I had a good fund of general information, perhaps, owing to my reading, and I had made up by this time the hiatus caused by my being out of the world those two years at Belair; but I knew little or nothing of the geography of England, and to save my soul I could not have imagined which would be the best direction to take.
My one idea was to put as much space between me and the prison-yard as I could, so I walked away from it with that end in view alone. It grew very dark, and I kept to the common until I plunged through a thorny hedge and made the road. It seemed to lead straight to the northward, which was as good for me as any other point of the compass, so I hastened along as fast as my legs could carry me.
The big military hat wobbled unsteadily on my head, and I thought how difficult it would be to make any sort of a fight with such an encumbrance to quick motions. But I reasoned I would attract a great deal of attention if I should discard it, so I slung it over my back by the plume, ready to clap it on if necessary, and went forward at a dog-trot.
The villages in this part of the country were so close together that I seemed hardly to leave one before I saw the lights of another. I was evidently on the highway, however, and, strange to say, I met but a few country people walking. They looked at me rather curiously, but did not speak. Thus I had traversed some twelve miles or more before midnight, and as there was a town of some size in the distance, judging by the lights and the sounds of two separate sets of chimes striking the hour, I determined to find some place where I could rest and think over the situation.
At first glance I might pass for one of his Majesty's officers, perhaps, but I could not stand an investigation without discovery. Yet I did not despair, for I was young, and youth builds to suit its fancy. But leg-weariness began to tell on me, and crawling in behind a hedge, I rolled myself in a cloak, and must have fallen to dreaming on the instant, for I began to go over the events of the last two days, and from them my mind strayed back into the past; and among other things, of course, thoughts of Mary Tanner came into my head and drove out all else.
It seemed to me that again I was in a little garden under the shadow of a rose-bush. I could recall Mary's arch smile and the sideway glance of her eye. The imaginary conversation we held continued at great length, and then the scene changed to the sea, and I was the Captain of a ship, sailing, with a fair wind, to some country whose name I could not place, but I knew that there Mary was waiting for me.
All at once I awoke and found myself with one hand in the breast of my brilliant red coat, grasping a little leather bag that was strung around my neck with a thong, containing all that I knew of that I could claim in the way of earthly possessions. These consisted of one of the De Brienne buttons, a single gold piece with the head of King Louis on it, and a package of dried rose leaves twisted into a small bit of paper.
It was gray dawn; cocks were crowing, and the bleating of sheep sounded from near by. With wonderful swiftness the light spread, and soon I could see my surroundings. The road was but a stone's-throw away, and I pushed through the hedge and found myself standing there not knowing which way to turn; in fact, I feared it would make little matter which choice I made—north, east, south, or west. I saw nothing but ultimate recapture before me. "No matter what happens, I shall have a yarn to spin," I said, grimly, to myself, as I stretched my stiffened legs and rubbed my cold hands together to start my chilled blood going.