Whatever may have been the circumstances of my captivity, the painful adventures that I was destined to endure, and the innumerable varieties of incidents that were crowded into my chequered fate, I trust that one thing is evident to the reader—that the honour of the British empire, with the character of the naval service, has always been uppermost in my mind: that I have ever loyally served—
The flag that braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze.
APPENDIX
A Copy of Mr. Archibald Barklimore’s Letter to Capt. D. H. O’Brien, on his arriving in England.
14 Dean Street, Soho,
My dear O’Brien—I hasten, knowing how anxious you will be to hear from your old fellow-traveller and fellow-prisoner, to inform you of my safe arrival in London, where I have been received and welcomed by numerous friends, as if I had actually been a resuscitated creature from the other world.
When I now look around me and see the cheerful countenances of the people of Old England, blessed in security under a paternal and just Government, I cannot help contrasting them with the meagre, squalid faces of those we have left behind, groaning under the tyranny of an usurper. Nor can I, my dear friend, conceal from you that I feel a something within me which proclaims aloud the great superiority of the British nation, and makes me no longer wonder that her sons, with their daring spirit, should break through prisons, bolts, and bars, and fly to protect so sacred a home! Shall I ever forget our exploits in scaling ramparts, eluding the vigilance of sentinels and guards, and all the hairbreadth ’scapes we had to encounter, from the time we got clear of the fortress of Bitche, until you had been hoisted up in a chair, with your disabled arm (which I fear you will lose), on board the Amphion? That, my good friend, was a severe conflict, and one which I shall never forget. It was the first time I had ever set my foot on board of a British ship-of-war’s boat; and it will be, I hope, a very long time before I again volunteer to go a cruise in one upon the enemy’s coast—at all events on the coast of Dalmatia.
A very remarkable circumstance has occurred since you and I parted, and would appear more like those unnatural tales of romance, of which we read in novels, than anything founded in truth incontestable. You must recollect the miserable and destitute plight in which our unfortunate companion, poor Batley, was, when we were driven to the necessity of leaving him at Rastadt: well, he was again arrested in Würtemberg, and confined closely in a prison; whence, after some weeks, he had the good fortune to outwit his keepers, and effect his escape. The poor fellow’s funds were now nearly exhausted, and little or no hope left him of ever being able to succeed. In this forlorn state, quite desponding, and overwhelmed with anguish, his singular appearance—you know what a tall, meagre, poor-looking creature “fat Jack” was—caught the eye of a lady who happened to be passing at that moment on the road. Her benign countenance gave him courage; he advanced and accosted her in his best manner—for Jack had the manners and address of a gentleman—explained to her candidly who he was, and his deplorable situation, and earnestly begged she would assist him in prosecuting his journey to Trieste. Most fortunately for him, this lady proved to be the wife of an officer at that time in the British army. She entered fully into his distressed condition, procured him the means which enabled him to reach Vienna; thence he proceeded to Trieste, where he found your old ship Amphion ready to sail for Malta, and arrived there only, he stated, a few minutes before honest Hewson and you had quitted Malta in the Leonidas, to join Lord Collingwood.
The ship which I was in touched at Gibraltar; and on landing there, the first person I met was my long-lost friend Batley: never were two people more surprised and better pleased to catch once more a sight of each other. He immediately quitted his vessel, and engaged a passage in the same ship with me, and we arrived safe in England together.