And then—well, you can imagine how the Englishmen and Austrians yelled, and how the poor Frenchmen beat a hasty flight for their homes. Fortunatus Wright had had a sweet revenge. He laughed long and hard, while the Frenchmen said, “Curse heem! He ees a devil! A thousand curses upon the head of thees Wright! Sapristi!” And they did not open any more bottles of wine for their supposedly great captain from Marseilles.
As for Fortunatus Wright, he continued to harass the French and get into trouble, as the following anecdote well shows.
Not long after his famous battle, he was travelling in Italy with introductions to many of the nobility, and arrived—one day—before the city gates of Lucca. Here was stationed a guard, and a sentinel scrutinized him with great care and deliberation.
Fortunatus Wright grew impatient.
“Can I not go by?” said he. “My passports are correct!”
“No! No!” answered the soldier. “I no likea zose peestols in your belta. You must deeliver them to me before you can go to ze ceety.”
The English sea-captain said nothing, but the color rose in his cheeks. In an instant he raised one of his pistols and pointed it at the head of the astonished sentry.
“The first man that endeavors to take my weapons from me,” he yelled, “does so at the cost of his life!”
The guardsman was flabbergasted.
“Corporal of the Guard! Post Number Two!” he shouted, presenting his musket at the same instant, and pointing it at the head of the irascible Captain Wright.