Before proceeding any further, it may be as well to devote a few words to an explanation of the somewhat remarkable fact that nobody at Paris should have recognized the identity of Baron Wolff with the Count von Waldberg, who had resided for some months on the banks of the Seine previous to the fall of the empire. In the first place, as has been already stated, his personal appearance had undergone a most remarkable change during his absence in the East; and, secondly, the siege by the Germans and the subsequent insurrection of the Commune had so thoroughly disorganized the metropolitan police and judicial administrations, whose ranks were now filled by entirely new and inexperienced men that his success in concealing his real rank and station had nothing surprising in it.
On reaching St. Martin de Re, Frederick was manacled to a repulsive-looking prisoner, and was fastened to a long chain to which some sixty other convicts were attached. Escorted by gendarmes with loaded rifles, they were led down to the sea-shore and embarked on huge flat-bottomed barges or pontoons for conveyance to the ship which lay in the offing, which was to be their place of abode for the three weary months which would elapse before their arrival in New Caledonia.
The Loire was one of the small fleet of old sailing ships which have been fitted up for the transport of convicts to Noumea and to Cayenne, and which are nicknamed “Les Omnibuses du Bagne.” Steam vessels are not used for this purpose, as speed is no object, and the voyage to France's penitential colony in Australasia is effected via the Cape of Good Hope, instead of by the Suez Canal. The lower decks are divided up into a series of large iron cages, in which the convicts are imprisoned by groups of sixty. These cages are separated from each other by narrow passages, along which armed sentinels pace day and night. Once every morning, and once every afternoon, the prisoners are brought up on deck for an hour's airing when the weather is fine; but when storms prevail, they are frequently confined in the stifling atmosphere of the lower decks for whole weeks at a time. In front of every cage, hydrants are fixed, by means of which, in case of any serious disturbance, the inmates can be deluged with powerful jets of cold water, and if that prove ineffectual, then with hot water.
A heavy gale was blowing in the Bay when the Loire spread its sails to the wind and started on its long and dreary voyage.
A fortnight later the vessel cast anchor in the port of Santa Cruz, of the Canary Islands, where a stay of six days was to be made for the purpose of shipping the provisions which were to last until the arrival of the transport at its destination. While there, Frederick and three of his fellow-prisoners, who had formed part of the gang employed one night to clean the deck from the dirt occasioned by the embarkation of some eighty head of cattle and numerous sheep and poultry, took advantage of the darkness and of the rough weather which prevailed, to slip overboard. The guard-boat happened to be on the other side of the ship, and the fugitives would probably have reached land and effected their escape, had not they suddenly encountered a cutter, which was bringing off several of the ship's officers who had been dining on shore. Unfortunately for the convicts, the moon, which had been hidden until then by the clouds, shone forth for a few minutes and shed its light on the shorn heads of the swimmers. The latter immediately plunged, in order to avoid detection. But it was too late. They had already been caught sight of by the officers. The latter having hailed the watch on board the ship and called for assistance, then rounded their boat on the fugitives. Aware of the terrible punishment which awaited them if captured, the poor wretches made almost superhuman efforts to escape, and turned a deaf ear to the threats of their pursuers that they would fire on them. One by one, however, they were run down and dragged on board. Frederick alone, who was a magnificent swimmer, continued to elude the cutter by swimming under water, coming to the surface only from time to time, to take breath. Volleys of buckshot swept the spot whenever his head appeared for a moment above water; but he seemed to bear a charmed life. Suddenly, however, one of the sailors espied him, as, miscalculating his distance, he emerged on the surface within a few feet of the boat. Quick as lightning, the man raised his oar and brought it down with terrific force on Frederick's head, rendering him unconscious.
When Frederick recovered his senses, he found himself in a dark cell in the lowest part of the hold, heavily chained, and with his head covered with bandages.
FREDERICK CAPTURED WHILE ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE.