Our friend Barklimore was now seized with a very severe fit of fever, and it behoved us to be very circumspect in Bavaria, lest we should be obliged to quit our sick companion. The stimuli of danger and necessity enabled him the next morning to attempt the day’s fatigue. We walked very slowly in consideration of his illness.
At night we slept at a village; and not only were the people civil, but our landlady got our shirts washed for us, and dried by the next morning. This was not a slight task, considering how long we had worn them. We were much annoyed, however, by the landlord. He was in the last stage of consumption, and the short remainder of his life seemed to be devoted to inquisitiveness. In vain did we tell him we were French travellers going to Kaufbeuern, where we had many friends. His “whys” and “wherefores,” and his “what-thens” and “where-nexts” were most inconvenient to travellers in our suspicious circumstances. We assured him that from Kaufbeuern we should, in all probability, proceed to Saltzburg, but nothing would satisfy his curiosity; and whilst his wife was in the act of contributing to the refreshing of our bodies by washing our shirts, he was tormenting our minds by questions, one-tenth of which had we answered, or at least answered honestly, we should infallibly have seen ourselves in a few days on the high road to Bitche.
CHAPTER XV
Leaving Kaufbeuern on the left hand—Crossing the Wardach and the Lech—A welcome ferry-boat—The town of Weilheim—A long and exhausting march—The soporific of fatigue—The ferry over the river Inn—Frightened at a soldier—A false alarm—Crossing the river—The town of Reichenhall—Our approach to the Bavarian frontiers—The increase of dangers—Passing barriers with success—A supposition that we were in the Austrian dominions—A woeful miscalculation and a narrow escape from its fatal consequences—An unexpected demand for passports—An evasion—The Bavarian and Austrian confines—Our extreme danger—Anticipating the galleys—A track through a wood at the foot of a mountain—A flight—The boundary passed, and the fugitives in the Emperor’s dominions—Soldiers in ambush—The fugitives captured—Feigning to be Americans from Altona—Rage of the Bavarian guard at being outwitted.
It was on the 8th of October (1808) that we took leave of our consumptive and inquisitive landlord, and left Kaufbeuern on the left hand in passing. If his lungs, throughout life, had been as actively employed in asking questions as they had been whilst we were with him, the only wonder is that they had lasted him so long. We crossed the Wardach, and directed our course towards Schöngau. At about six in the evening it began to snow so very hard that we took shelter in an adjacent village for the night. It was small, and suited us very well. At the public-house there was a shoemaker at work for the family, and they had the kindness to allow him to repair our shoes.
The next morning we proceeded on our journey, though the weather was very severe, snowing, and blowing right in our faces. Barklimore was much better, and we did not deem it prudent to remain long in one place. At noon, finding an excellent halting-house, in consequence of the severity of the weather, and being wet to the skin, we stopped at it: this little public-house supplied us with a large blazing fire. We dried our clothes, got refreshed, and went to bed early. At daybreak we recommenced our journey; and, at about eleven, we saw Schöngau, which appeared to be a very strong place, and consequently to us a place of danger. We could discover no possibility of crossing the Lech without passing close by, if not through it. We consulted what was best to be done, and, without hesitation, decided upon turning to the left and keeping on the banks of that river, until we could find some other place to cross over. We accordingly continued to the northward about eight miles, when we perceived a ploughman at work with some strong horses in an adjacent field. It immediately struck me that, by mounting, we might be able to swim over the river on the back of the horses. I accordingly made the proposal to the ploughman, and endeavoured to strike a bargain. The stupid lout took all as a joke, and laughed me to scorn; but when he found that I was really in earnest, he considered me little less than mad to entertain such an idea. At last, after incessantly repeating the word schiff, he pointed to a ferry-boat on the opposite side. On this we came close down to the river; and, after waving and making signals for some time, we had the satisfaction of seeing a man put off in a boat. Notwithstanding that, from the late heavy falls of rain, the flood was very strong, he conducted himself across in a very masterly style, and then ferried us over in a manner equally satisfactory. We joyfully paid him his usual fare, which was about one penny, and by eight at night we had retraced our steps on the opposite bank by a distance of eight miles, for the purpose of regaining the high road. Weilheim was the next large town in our route, but we halted at a small village. We were dreadfully knocked up, and having obtained refreshment, we went to bed, and found that the best soporific on earth was fatigue. Not all “the drowsy syrups of the world” could “medicine us to a more sweet sleep” than the long and dreary march we had taken.
In the morning we proceeded on our journey, and by ten we made a circuit round Weilheim, with its castle, crossed the Amper, and directed our course for Tötz. At night we sought shelter in a peasant’s hut, at the foot of the lofty range of mountains that separate Bavaria from the Tyrol.
At eleven the next morning we discovered the town of Tötz, in a valley on the Amper. In general, the sight of a town is gratifying to a traveller, and gratifying in proportion to its size. In our case the reverse was the fact; and every town was an object of alarm, and especially if it were of any considerable magnitude or population. Tötz appeared a place difficult to pass. We turned to the southward, and after marching many a dreary league over mountains, and through forests and morasses, we luckily discovered a bridge, which we crossed without any interruption. I observed on the river a number of floats and rafts which were admirably constructed, and they were adroitly steered with the stream, which was excessively rapid. Even this semblance of an approach to nautical affairs filled my mind with thoughts of my profession, and gave gladness to my heart. Having passed the bridge, we were enticed to enter a public-house, where we procured some fish, bread, and beer for dinner. There were a number of both sexes intoxicated in this house; they all appeared to be employed in conducting the timber down the river, and reminded me of Billingsgate and Wapping ballast-heavers. Although it rained excessively hard, we were under the necessity of proceeding. Barklimore got a lift in a waggon for three or four miles, and the waggoner declined receiving payment for it. I must, in justice to continental inhabitants, observe that this feature of disinterestedness is frequent on the Continent; how far it may be common in our own country I leave to every man’s experience.
On the 12th, at daylight, we recommenced our route towards Neubeuern, and in the evening, at eight, we stopped for the night at a small village, where the inn was very decent, and we were well entertained. In the morning we parted from these good folks, but who were apparently not very partial to the French.
At eleven we espied Neubeuern. It is a fort, situated on the side of a hill, on a branch of the river Inn; we were on the opposite side to it, and were very much confused and at a loss how to get across. There appeared a small town also, which I suppose bore the same name. We approached the banks of the river, and discovered a ferry-boat on the opposite side. On each bank sheers were erected, with a stay or rope from one side to the other, to which the ferry-boat was made fast with a long rope and traveller to traverse upon the stay. It was constructed in such a manner, that (let the current be however rapid) one man was sufficient to conduct the ferry-boat across. There was, on our side, a shed with seats for passengers to rest themselves, and wait for their conveyance. In this place we found an old man, who, from his garb and apron, we supposed to be either a hatter or dyer. He spoke no other language than German; he lived (as he made us understand) in the opposite village, and was actually a hatter by trade. He informed us that the ferryman was getting his dinner, and would not attend until after one o’clock. We inquired whether the fortress was strong, although, whether strong or weak, it was evidently strong enough to capture us, and to keep us in durance vile. The answer was, that it contained “only a few veterans,” a species of force we particularly objected to; for, although we could get to windward of raw recruits, it was not easy to impose upon old campaigners. This hatter seemed to measure the inside of our heads, and his inquisitive disposition was very far from agreeable to us, under our awkward circumstances. He at last asked us if we were going to Saltzburg. This was a convenient question, for our answering in the affirmative gave us the plausible opportunity of inquiring how far Saltzburg was off. “Fifteen leagues” was the reply, and I need not say that not one of us felt his heart rebound at the news that he was so far from this point towards his journey’s end.