Since our arrival at this depot, several of the stoutest and apparently most healthy of our men had died of a fever supposed to have been caught in some of the gaols on the road. Our poor servant, Allen, was seized with it, and expired in a few days. With respect to comforts, our prisoners were badly off; but the French medical officers at Givet were certainly humane and attentive.

In the latter part of June, to our surprise and chagrin, the commandant appeared much altered in his manner towards us. We were unable to imagine what could be the cause of so sudden and total a change. Mr. Bradshaw, however, informed us that he had observed to him, “that the English officers” (as he was kind enough to style us) “were excessively proud.”

“I never meet them,” said he, “but I take my hat off, whilst they only lift theirs to me.”

Certain it is, that, with all mankind, a slight or insult, real or imaginary, intended or casual, produces more rancour than an injury. By the accidental hurry or carelessness of using a wafer instead of sealing-wax to a letter, the Prime Minister of England, at a crisis of the country, for a time lost the support of one of the wealthiest and most influential dukes of the political world.

But our commandant’s anger was not soon appeased. He one night sent a guard of gendarmes to take us from our lodgings to the guard-house, for being in the streets after nine o’clock, when it was scarcely dark at that time of the year, and although we had no regular time prescribed by him to be indoors. In the guard-house we remained, on a cold pavement, all night, at a loss to know of what we had been guilty. Our guards assured us that it was merely the caprice of the commandant. At noon Mr. Bradshaw visited us, but without affording any hopes of release. The commandant had informed him that we were confined for not answering a sentinel on his post who had hailed or challenged us. This we positively denied, as we had not passed a single sentinel that night. Monsieur Brasseur, the second in command, then came to visit us, and expressed great sorrow at seeing us thus confined without any cause. He waited on the commandant, became responsible for our conduct, and had us removed to our lodgings, where we were commanded to confine ourselves until “further orders.”

Our excellent landlady received us with the greatest joy imaginable, bathed us with her tears, and had refreshments ready for us, though she had sent us a very good breakfast to the guard-house, and was herself very poor. In three days we were once more liberated; but henceforth we were always confined whenever a religious procession or public ceremony took place, and which at this particular time was very frequent. Our chief amusement was a game at billiards, and a walk round the ramparts, or rather ruins. We frequently met with military officers at the billiard-table, who always behaved with the strictest politeness, and made us an offer of the table the moment we entered the room, which, of course, we declined until they had finished.

From the commandant’s conduct of late, we were constantly under apprehensions of being closely confined with the sailors: he appeared more inveterate against me than any of the rest. However, about the 10th or 12th of July we received a letter from our commanding officer at Verdun, stating that General Wirion had at last sent an order for Mr. Mahoney and myself to be conducted to the Verdun depot. The commandant received the order by the same post. Mr. Bradshaw had also a letter from Captain Brenton, who had kindly and considerately directed him to supply us with cash to enable us to proceed. All this intelligence arriving at the same time, nearly overwhelmed us with joy; but the two other poor fellows that were to remain—the boatswain and gunner—were not only disconsolate at the inequality of their fate, but full of apprehensions that as soon as we had left them the offended commandant would become both more mean and cruel in his severity.

At last, on the 16th of July, we were to leave Givet for Verdun. Mr. Mahoney had a bad foot, and a cart was therefore provided, in which I had the privilege of riding. Everything was at length settled for our departure, and we had previously been permitted to see our ship’s company—a pleasure of which we had been deprived for some weeks. This scene was sadly interesting, and we left the brave fellows with reciprocal good wishes. We took an affectionate farewell of our two shipmates and of our good landlady, and began our route to Verdun, under the escort of two gendarmes.

CHAPTER IV

Our arrival at Verdun—A joyful reception—General Wirion—His indulgence towards the prisoners—The meetings of old shipmates and friends—Mental employment the best antidote against ennui and dissipation—Restiveness at confinement—Anxiety to be again in the active service of Old England—Meditations upon an escape—Contrivances to avoid a breach of parole or any breach of honour—Three comrades, or compagnons de voyage—Scaling ramparts—A descent of seventy-two feet—The open country—The march commences—Flying by night, and hiding in woods by day—Heavy rains, dismal roads, and swampy beds, with bad fare and good hearts—Leaping a moat—A dislocated knee—The march resumed, and pursued lamely—The town of Neuville—Extreme sufferings from thirst—Water at length procured, anguish allayed, and the escape proceeded upon with renewed spirits.