I need not dwell on the pleasure we felt this morning at beholding the gulf of Trieste, and the ships and vessels lying in the harbour, amongst which was a Russian squadron, consisting of four sail of the line, one frigate, and a store-ship. We also discovered a ship at anchor some leagues out, which, to our very great satisfaction, we were informed was his Britannic Majesty’s frigate the Unité, Captain Campball, who, they said, blockaded that port. This was the most welcome news imaginable. We were now certain of being able to join our native flag; how did my heart pant to be afloat on the ocean, and under the English standard! Compared to that summit of liberty, even my present security and recent freedom of travelling seemed to me as slavery.
We waited on the Director of police, who received us with great politeness, and had us conducted to the first tavern in the town; requesting that we would still say we were Americans. A Borea, or N.E. wind, which in the Adriatic is most violent, was then setting in: he assured us it would be impossible to get embarked until the gale abated, but that he would render us every assistance in due time. There was a gentleman named Danolan (who had formerly been the English vice-consul) then in town. We waited on him, and he proved in every sense of the word a real friend; he engaged to get us embarked, supplied us with cash, and offered us to remain at his house if we wished: his wife was equally polite and attentive. The inclemency of the weather was the only thing at this moment that prevented our happiness being complete.
We returned to the tavern, and passed our moments as comfortably as possible under existing circumstances; dined at the table d’hôte with the Russian officers of the squadron, who at first, I imagine, supposed that we actually were Americans, but afterwards, from a number of insinuations thrown out by them, and the marked attention they paid us, I became confident that they had discovered what we were.
Notwithstanding the severity of the weather, Hewson and myself ascended an adjacent height, when our breasts expanded and our minds glowed at the sight of the Adriatic. Our concealment in woods, and terrors at towns, our swampy beds, drenched backs, and starved stomachs, were most pleasurable reminiscences, when we felt that they had led us to the “high top gallant of our joy,” and that we now saw our glorious element, with a little frigate under old England’s flag, blockading the port, and keeping the whole line of coast in awe. The marine of this coast, I verily believe, thought that they might as easily fight the devil himself as attempt to compete with an English squadron.[33] Let us reflect upon this immense distance from the arsenals and resources of England, and then shall we see that never had a nation established such an irresistible superiority over all enemies, as England had consummated by her naval triumphs, and by her naval economy and management. Thrice happily did we hail our glorious country, as we saw her flag triumphant on the wave.
On Monday night, the 7th November, the weather became moderate, the English frigate got under weigh, and I feared that she might be quitting her station. So anxious was I to be once more on a quarter-deck, that it never occurred to me that the blockade could not be raised, and, that if she left, another must resume the station. We repaired to our friend Mr. Danolan, who assured us that he had provided all things for our departure; and, by his arrangement, by half-past eight we had embarked, and in a short time we were clear of the harbour. However, a few minutes before we embarked I put into the post-office a letter directed to my friends Tuthill and Ashworth, in the real German character, giving them a minute detail of the course we had taken, and all particulars relative to our successes, which they fortunately received, and which afterwards enabled them to escape.
We rowed towards the point where I had calculated we should find the English frigate; but, to our mortification, we were disappointed. When the moon was up we weighed, and stood out for her; but, to the grief of my heart, we could not fall in with her. I concealed all the tortures of my mind, lest I should afflict my comrades.
We kept rowing in different directions, on a sort of forlorn hope, until daybreak, when we observed a man-of-war’s boat pulling right down for us. It ran alongside of us, and asked in English what we were. I sprang up at hearing the English language, and, with inexpressible joy, saw that it was a British ship-of-war’s boat. I answered that we were three British subjects who had escaped from a French prison. Having been informed that it was the Amphion’s boat, I assured the officer we should be very happy to quit our present conveyance, and take a passage with him to the frigate. He replied, “The ship is at present at a considerable distance off; I shall not return until eight o’clock.” I answered that that was of little consequence; two of us belonged to the navy, and we would willingly take a cruise along the coast with him, if he had no objection. “Very well,” was his rejoinder. So we paid our boatmen, dismissed them, and had the happiness of being once more under our proper colours, and on our own element.
Upon turning round, and looking at the officer who commanded the boat, how excessive were my surprise and joy when I instantly recognised Lieutenant Jones, an old friend and shipmate of 1802. I immediately made myself known to him, and this excellent fellow exultingly expressed his gladness that he should have been the officer that had had the good fortune of picking us up.
I was astonished at finding that the Amphion, instead of the Unité frigate, was the ship lying at anchor off Trieste. Lieutenant Jones cleared the point up by stating that the Amphion had arrived only that night, and that his Majesty’s ship L’Unité had weighed and stood lower down the gulf. Strange was it that my old ship and friend should arrive on the very night that the weather favoured our embarkation from Trieste.
This morning, November the 8th, 1808, I shall never forget. We felt in perfect security, and were amusing ourselves by narrating anecdotes of our escape, recalling to mind the horrors of the “Mansion of Tears,” and in indulging hopes in favour of our friends within its walls, when at eight o’clock our amusement was put an end to by the discovery of two strange sail under Capo d’Istria. We took them for enemy’s merchant-vessels, stealing along shore. Lieutenant Jones made directly towards them. One we soon perceived was full of men, and was endeavouring to separate from the other, and to pull closer in shore. She had the appearance of a row-boat, whilst her companion was larger, and was rigged like a trabaccolo, or schooner, under Venetian colours. We concluded that the greater part of the crew had abandoned her, and were endeavouring to get on shore in the row-boat.