At about ten our progress was impeded by the river Canche. After examining it in several directions without success, we agreed to send Mr. Ashworth to a farmhouse hard by, to inquire the nearest place that we could cross; from whence he returned in a few minutes with one of the farmer’s men, who had been desired to direct him, and assured us the people were extremely civil. It appeared to him to be a good place to get a supply of provisions—we were excessively hungry,—and, as the passage across the river was immediately at the end of the farmhouse, and as they had already discovered our number, we mutually consented to put the farmer’s hospitality to the test, and, if possible, to procure what we wanted. We advanced with the man, who showed us in; and we were very kindly received by the master of the house, who conducted us into a decent back-room. The kitchen, when we first entered, was full of peasantry at supper.
The farmer’s harvest had been that day finished, or gathered in, and he was giving his labourers a feast on the occasion, which, we were told, was an immemorial custom in that part of the country, throughout which many things reminded us of our own. In fact, we were now in the midst of a French harvest-home; and, though the scene was gratifying, yet in our peculiar situation we should have been by far better pleased had we been alone. All was joy and happiness under this rustic and hospitable roof, if I except the twinges of apprehension that now and then would disturb me and my friends. Nothing, however, could surpass the attention and kindness of this good farmer. He supplied us spontaneously with everything that his house could afford. Certain it is that he took us for Frenchmen and conscripts, and thought, perhaps, that we were going to fight for the glory of France, under the eagles of the new emperor. Little did he suspect that we were English naval officers, encountering all dangers and enduring all hardships, for the sake of once more fighting under
The flag that braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze.
As our host would not accept of any payment for what we had received, we made a present to the servant who was to guide us, and we took our leave of this good man full of gratitude for his kindness.
We conjectured that we were not more than seven leagues from Étaples, a town on the mouth of the river Canche, with a tolerably good harbour for small vessels. This put us in such good spirits that even Mr. Essel, in spite of his weakness, was determined to go that distance before daylight. We quickened our pace, and proceeded, with light hearts and full of hope.
We passed the strong town of Hesdin at midnight, and as might be supposed, we took care to keep a very respectful distance from it. At daylight on Thursday the 17th, to our great mortification, we found that we were at least three leagues from Étaples. We had exerted ourselves right manfully, and had performed our allotted task; but the journey was much longer than we had supposed when we quitted the farmhouse. A bourg, or municipal town, called Nieuville, lay now immediately in our route, without our having any means of avoiding it, on account of the serpentine course of the river. Neither wood nor anything else to shelter us was in view. Our situation was most critical, and we unwillingly came to the conclusion that was obvious—pass through the town we must. Our object was to get through it before any, or at least many, of the inhabitants could be up, and by dint of a quick pace. This we happily accomplished. As soon as possible we struck across the fields; but, to our dismay, no appearance of a wood could be discovered. Even in the fields people were moving in different directions, and it was not much to our comfort that we observed many of them to be military. Surrounded by such numerous difficulties, we resolved to go into a small contiguous village, imagining that even this would be less dangerous than to remain straying and wandering in the open fields. We arrived about eight o’clock at a hut in the village; avoiding the public-house, as there are, in general, police officers, or gendarmes, lurking around such places when in the vicinity of large towns. We asked the inhabitants if they could provide us breakfast. They replied, “Yes, we can give you some milk-soup and bread.” We approved of this repast very much; and, after paying them, we requested they would have the goodness to allow us to repose ourselves for a few hours in some convenient place; but this they refused, hinting that they suspected that we were deserters from the camp at Boulogne. We assured them, upon our words of honour, they were very much mistaken; that, on the contrary, we were going that way, but were so very much fatigued, and having a sick comrade, we wanted a little rest. After importuning them a long time, and promising a good reward, they allowed us to go into a barn-loft full of straw. We were particularly obliged to them, and perfectly contented with this apartment; but, when nearly settled, and each had got covered over with straw, to our great mortification and annoyance, the owner came, having repented of his granting permission to enter it, and insisted upon our instantly quitting his premises. All our rhetoric with this fellow was in vain. So we were compelled to quit our habitation about eleven o’clock, and walk towards another more respectable village. We inquired of a shepherd, on entering this place, if he could direct us to a public-house; and he pointed out one to us. We proceeded, but with little hopes of escaping from being discovered or arrested. However, we determined to call for a private room the moment we arrived at the cabaret, being in hopes (if we could avoid police officers in passing to a private apartment) we might stand a chance of remaining unnoticed until night. In this we succeeded; and, being supplied with refreshments, we were provided with a suitable apartment immediately. The only person in the house was a girl of about eighteen years of age, who made us a comfortable fire, and shook up two beds, that we might rest a little if we pleased. Seeing that there was no danger, we pretended to be quite at our ease, and coolly asked her where her father and mother were. She replied, “That the former was watching the sheep outside of the village, and that the latter was gone to Étaples.” We found by her description of her father that he was the very man who had directed us to her. She asked us, “If we were not conscripts going to the camp of Boulogne?” We answered in the affirmative; and begged her not to let anybody enter our room, as we had several things to settle amongst ourselves and wished to be in private. She promised to obey us; but little did her acquiescence bring confidence or comfort, when she added that there was at that moment a gendarme in the kitchen in the disguise of a peasant. This was enough to render us tremulous. But even this was not all; for she informed us that this gendarme had just come from Boulogne with a party, in order to procure forage for the gendarmes’ horses there. We had evidently got into a hornet’s nest, or almost within the jaws of the lion; but, preserving as much the appearance of tranquillity as possible, we informed her that we had not the least desire to see anybody but her father, with whom we wished to have some conversation. She promised to send for him as soon as her guest in the kitchen had quitted the house. The “soon” was devoutly to be wished; and glad were we when, in a short time, we were told that he had taken his departure. The girl now sent for her father; and her mother also returned. We were in great hopes that, as these people were very poor, we might be able to induce them to procure us a boat, through the medium of some of their friends, the fishermen on the coast, who might not be temptation-proof, or impervious to the influence of a few louis d’or. Convinced that nothing much could be accomplished without this all-powerful metal, each of us began to search in the different parts of his garments for his due proportion. We had been obliged to take the precaution of stitching what gold coin we had in the seams of our clothes, that we might not lose it in the event of our being arrested. To our great sorrow—and, I may add, astonishment—Mr. Essel discovered that his gold coin, to the amount of £45 sterling, had slipped out of a pad which he had contrived for the purpose of concealing it, and which he had always worn round his neck in his neck-handkerchief; nor could he recollect having untied it but once since we set out, and that was at the worthy baker’s cottage, where he suspected he had left it. This baker had appeared to be an honest man, and, as I have already observed, had behaved excessively kindly to us. It was possible that the money might have been left there without our host having seen it until after our departure; but the poor fellow could have no opportunity of restoring the treasure to its right and now embarrassed owner. The loss was to us, at that moment, very distressing, but not irreparable, as we still had a tolerably good sum, and Lieutenant Essel and myself had two gold watches, sufficient, as we trusted, to inspirit the shepherd and induce him to assist us. He at length arrived; when, after taking every feasible means of enjoining secrecy, we disclosed our situation, object, and what we were, and promised to reward him very liberally, provided he could procure us a conveyance across the Channel. We were certain, we observed, that he must have a number of seafaring acquaintances on the coast, and we would make it well worth their trouble to assist us. He hesitated very much at first; but, having shown him a purse, and repeating our promises of reward, he assured us he would try every possible means, and he declared that, at all events, we were perfectly safe under his roof, and that he would proceed to see what he could accomplish. We were greatly elated, and were almost certain of succeeding, from his not raising any obstacles. Our anxiety for this fellow’s return is not to be described: every individual that passed appeared to be somebody he had sent, or was about to bring, to agree with us for our passage. The much-wished-for moment, as we thought, at length arrived, when the old shepherd, with a demure countenance, opened our door, and, having closed it again with the utmost caution, began to inform us, “That all his search to procure a boat had been ineffectual; that the fishermen along the coast were constrained to bring their boats to Étaples and lay them up there, whence they dared not move without a passport from the commandant of the town, as well as a soldier as a guard in each boat, to prevent their having communication with the English cruisers or going without the limits. They were also under the necessity of going out and returning only in the daytime.” To our vexation and grief, the fellow added, “that we could not remain in his house any longer than the dusk of the evening, as he was obliged to return an account to the mayor of the village of every stranger that might be with him after dark, taking his passport at the same time for the mayor’s inspection;” and the fellow concluded all this anything but comfortable information and kindness by lifting up his hat, scratching his head, and saying, “I hope, gentlemen, you will reward me for my pains and for keeping counsel.” We were absolutely confounded. We stood amazed—staring at each other; and for some time were unable to utter a word. At length I broke silence, and observed, “That it was the fault of his better half, who appeared to us, from the instant we had seen her, to be a bitter, malignant creature. She, no doubt, had been consulted;” and her sour looks and conduct upon every occasion convinced us all that this opinion was well founded.
Having nothing to expect from this unfeeling and unprincipled couple, we paid them liberally for all we had had, and for all they had done, or pretended to have done; and as soon as it was dark we left their, to us, not agreeable abode. The point of departure had been a subject of altercation; for, as soon as they had received our money, they insisted upon turning us out; whilst we, for our own purposes, as resolutely maintained our right to remain until it was dark. Both of the inhospitable pair had repeatedly threatened to call in the mayor, in order to arrest us, if we remained a moment longer; but this could scarcely have been worse than running the risk of being seen in the daytime. However, darkness at length shrouded the earth, and we left this unpropitious roof with no very merciful, or, we fear, Christian feelings, towards those that drove us out.
When in the open air, we were utterly perplexed as to how we should act and as to what course we should steer. We began to imagine that what we had been told respecting the boats might be partly true. Sometimes we supposed that it would be better to proceed towards Rotterdam; at others we thought of recrossing the Canche and directing our wearisome course towards St. Valery; at others we imagined it would be better to repair to any port where we might be likely to find an American or other neutral vessel, in which we might escape; but at last we agreed unanimously to cross the river, as at all events the safest plan for that night, and afterwards to proceed to some villages that might be close down on the sea-coast. We were thus consulting, or had just come to this conclusion, when the shepherd’s daughter made her appearance, and gently told us, “That her father had sent her to show us a house where we were sure of finding a person that would be of service to us, and who would put us across the river; which was,” she added, “by far the safest side.” We thanked the girl, who appeared the whole evening very much affected at the conduct of her parents; and she returned, begging us not to mention who had directed us—which, of course, we promised, and we kept our word. One of us was now deputed to reconnoitre. It was about ten o’clock; the house was on the side of the road, and a number of soldiers were passing on their route to the camp: this circumstance retarded our project, as we were obliged to keep within a hedge until the military had passed, and by this time it was full eleven o’clock. Then Mr. Tuthill (the deputed person) advanced; and soon returned and informed us that he had seen a man who had given him some hopes, and that he would rejoin us shortly. This was most welcome news. The person made his appearance, and told us he would direct us to a friend’s house on the other side, who would, he believed, do what we wished. Heavens! what joyful intelligence! “His boat,” he said, “would put us across as soon as she should be afloat; the tide of flood was then making, and he would return again to where we were in an hour, by which time he supposed the boat would be ready.” This put us in the highest spirits. An hour ago we were in the depths of despair; our feelings of joy were now heightened by contrast. With the vividness of lightning flashed across my mind all our past sufferings; and, from the number of dangers which we had almost miraculously escaped, it struck me that we were special favourites of Fortune, and that we were about to reap the glorious object of all our wishes. Habit, however, had taught us distrust and caution; and we shifted our situation, lest this stranger might turn out to be a false friend, or a scoundrel sent to deceive us, and we placed ourselves where we could easily discover whether he had any auxiliaries with him when he came back. At the appointed time he came to where he expected to find us, by himself, which convinced us that his intentions were more honest than we had supposed. In a few minutes we were carried to the opposite side, where he secured his boat, and guided us to the house above-mentioned, assuring us that they were people we could depend upon, and who had many friends, fishermen, on the water-side. He would not enter the cottage, or hut, but quitted us at the threshold, having received a sufficient recompense for the trouble we had given. We knocked repeatedly at the door. It began to rain very heavily; nor could we gain admittance until we had given many assurances that we were particular friends who only wished to be sheltered a few minutes from the inclemency of the night. These protestations at length gained us permission to enter.
CHAPTER VI
A false direction and an appalling repulse—A bribe refused—A deluge, and shelter in a barn—A fatal resolution—Dangers of fugitives journeying by daylight—A market-day at Étaples—Passing through crowds not very convenient for runaway prisoners of war—An attempt to reach the sand-hills on the coast—A bold progress through a despicable village—The last house—Parching thirst, and begging for a draught of water—An acquiescence, or reply, in the shape of two custom-house officers—Our capture—A clever fiction well devised, better sustained, and totally defeated—Getting rid of suspicious goods—An examination before the mayor—Americanism and the American gentleman—An awkward exposure—A mittimus to Boulogne gaol—An examination of our persons and clothes—Our fate sealed, and hope destroyed.