Peter Simple

by Frederick Marryat

I could not help thinking that O’Brien was very severe upon the poor lad, and I expostulated with him afterwards. He replied, “Peter, if, as a cutter’s midshipman, he is a bit of an officer, the devil a bit is he of a gentleman, either born or bred; and I’m not bound to bail every blackguard-looking chap that I meet. By the head of St. Peter, I would blush to be seen in his company, if I were in the wildest bog in Ireland, with nothing but an old crow as spectator.”

We were now again permitted to be on our parole, and received every attention and kindness from the different officers who commanded the detachments which passed the prisoners from one town to the other. In a few days we arrived at Montpelier, where we had orders to remain a short time until directions were received from government as to the depôts for prisoners to which we were to be sent. At this delightful town we had unlimited parole, not even a gendarme accompanying us. We lived at the table d’hôte, were permitted to walk about where we pleased, and amused ourselves every evening at the theatre. During our stay there, we wrote to Colonel O’Brien at Cette, thanking him for his kindness, and narrating what had occurred since we parted I also wrote to Celeste, enclosing my letter unsealed in the one to Colonel O’Brien. I told her the history of O’Brien’s duel, and all I could think would interest her; how sorry I was to have parted from her; that I never would forget her; and trusted that some day, as she was only half a Frenchwoman, that we should meet again. Before we left Montpelier, we had the pleasure of receiving answers to our letters: the colonel’s letters were very kind, particularly the one to me, in which he called me his dear boy, and hoped that I should soon rejoin my friends, and prove an ornament to my country. In his letter to O’Brien, he requested him not to run me into useless danger—to recollect that I was not so well able to undergo extreme hardship. The answer from Celeste was written in English; but she must have had assistance from her father, or she could not have succeeded so well. It was like herself, very kind and affectionate; and also ended with wishing me a speedy return to my friends, who must (she said) be so fond of me, that she despaired of ever seeing me more, but that she consoled herself as well as she could with the assurance that I should be happy. I forgot to say that Colonel O’Brien, in his letter to me, stated that he expected immediate orders to leave Cette, and take the command of some military post in the interior, or join the army, but which he could not tell; that they had packed up everything, and he was afraid that our correspondence must cease, as he could not state to what place we should direct our letters.

I must here acquaint the reader with a circumstance which I forgot to mention, which was, that when Captain Savage sent in a flag of truce with our clothes and money, I thought that it was but justice to O’Brien that they should know on board of the frigate the gallant manner in which he had behaved. I knew that he never would tell himself, so, ill as I was at the time, I sent for Colonel O’Brien, and requested him to write down my statement of the affair, in which I mentioned how O’Brien had spiked the last gun, and had been taken prisoner by so doing, together with his attempting to save me. When the colonel had written all down, I requested that he would send for the major who first entered the fort with the troops, and translate it to him in French. This he did in my presence, and the major declared every word to be true. “Will he attest it, colonel, as it may be of great service to O’Brien?” The major immediately assented. Colonel O’Brien then enclosed my letter, with a short note from himself, to Captain Savage.

In ten days, we received an order to march on the following morning. The sailors, among whom was our poor friend the midshipman of the Snapper cutter, were ordered to Verdun; O’Brien and I, with eight masters of merchant vessels, who joined us at Montpelier, were directed by the government to be sent to Givet, a fortified town in the department of Ardennes. But, at the same time, orders arrived from government to treat the prisoners with great strictness, and not to allow any parole. It was exactly four months from the time of our capture, that we arrived at our destined prison at Givet.

“Peter,” said O’Brien, as he looked hastily at the fortifications and the river which divided the two towns, “I see no reason, either English or French, that we should not eat our Christmas dinner in England. I’ve a bird’s-eye view of the outside, and now have only to find out whereabouts we may be in the inside.”

I must say that, when I looked at the ditches and high ramparts, I had a different opinion; so had a gendarme who was walking by our side, and who had observed O’Brien’s scrutiny, and who quietly said to him in French, “Vous le croyez possible?”

“Everything is possible to a brave man—the French armies have proved that,” answered O’Brien.

“You are right,” replied the gendarme, pleased with the compliment to his nation; “I wish you success, you will deserve it; but—” and he shook his head.

“If I could obtain a plan of the fortress,” said O’Brien, “I would give five Napoleons for one;” and he looked at the gendarme.

“I cannot see any objection to an officer, although a prisoner, studying fortification,” replied the gendarme. “In two hours you will be within the walls; and now I recollect, in the map of the two towns, the fortress is laid down sufficiently accurately to give you an idea of it. But we have conversed too long.” So saying, the gendarme dropped into the rear.