“If we arrive at St. Nicholas we shall do well,” replied O’Brien; “but I have a little money left, and I’ll not see a comrade want a supper or a bed who is going to serve his country. You can repay me when we meet at Flushing.”
“That I will, with thanks,” replied the Frenchman, “and so will Jaques, here, if you will trust him.”
“With pleasure,” replied O’Brien, who then entered into along conversation, by which he drew out from the Frenchmen that a party of conscripts had been ordered to Flushing, and that they had dropped behind the main body. In about an hour we arrived at St. Nicholas, and after some difficulty obtained entrance into a cabaret. “Vive la France!” said O’Brien, going up to the fire, and throwing the snow off his hat. In a short time we were seated to a good supper and very tolerable wine, the hostess sitting down by us, and listening to the true narratives of the real conscripts, and the false one of O’Brien. After supper the conscript who first addressed us pulled out his printed paper, with the route laid down, and observed that we were two days behind the others. O’Brien read it over, and laid it on the table, at the same time calling for more wine, having already pushed it round very freely. We did not drink much ourselves, but plied them hard, and at last the conscript commenced the whole history of his intended marriage and his disappointment, tearing his hair, and crying now and then. “Never mind,” interrupted O’Brien, every two or three minutes; “buvons un autre coup pour la gloire!” and thus he continued to make them both drink, until they reeled away to bed, forgetting their printed paper, which O’Brien had some time before slipped away from the table. We also retired to our room, when O’Brien observed to me, “Peter, this description is as much like me as I am to old Nick; but that’s of no consequence, as nobody goes willingly as a conscript, and therefore they will never have a doubt but that it is all right. We must be off early to-morrow, while these good people are in bed, and steal a long march upon them. I consider that we are now safe as far as Flushing.”
Chapter Twenty Four.
What occurred at Flushing, and what occurred when we got out of Flushing.
An hour before day-break we started; the snow was thick on the ground, but the sky was clear, and without any difficulty or interruption was passed through the towns of Axel and Haist, arrived at Terneuse on the fourth day, and went over to Flushing in company with about a dozen more stragglers from the main body. As we landed, the guard asked us whether we were conscripts. O’Brien replied that he was, and held out his paper. They took his name, or rather that of the person it belonged to, down in a book, and told him that he must apply to the état major before three o’clock. We passed on, delighted with our success, and then O’Brien pulled out the letter which had been given to him by the woman of the cabaret who had offered to assist me to escape, when O’Brien passed off as a gendarme, and reading the address, demanded his way to the street. We soon found out the house, and entered.
“Conscripts!” said the woman of the house, looking at O’Brien; “I am billeted full already. It must be a mistake. Where is your order?”
“Read,” said O’Brien, handing her the letter.