“Age?”
“Nearly nineteen.”
“Nationality, English” was added.
“What ship was that from which you landed?”
There was no reason why the question should not be answered, and he replied: “The Tartar, thirty-four guns.”
“Ah, you have made a bad evening’s business, monsieur!” the officer said. “When the ship was seen to sail in and sail away again, after firing a few shots, we felt sure that she would come back to-night, and five hundred men were brought across from the mainland to give you a hot reception. And, parbleu, we did so.”
“You did indeed,” Will said, “a desperately hot reception. I cannot tell what our loss was, but it must have been very heavy. You took us completely by surprise, which was what we had intended to do to you. Well, it is the fortune of war, and I must not grumble.”
“You will be sent to Toulon as soon as you can be moved, monsieur.”
Three other wounded officers had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and these were placed in the same room as Will. One was the third lieutenant, another the master’s mate, and the third was a midshipman. They were well treated and cared for and were very cheery together, with the exception of the lieutenant, whose wound was a mortal one, and who died two days after the fight.
A month after their reception into the hospital all were able to walk, and they were taken across in a boat to the mainland and sent to Toulon. They were all asked if they would give their parole, and though his two companions agreed to do so, [pg 275]Will refused. He was accordingly sent to a place of confinement, while the other two were allowed to take quarters in the town.