John Deane of Nottingham: Historic Adventures by Land and Sea

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“He forced me on; and I could not indeed help feeling the justice of his remarks.

“Assisted on by him we reached some rocks, amid which he worked his way, even though it was dark, showing that he was well acquainted with the spot. After going on for some time longer, I found that we were in front of a small cave.

“‘Go in there,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘It is large enough to contain many people; and I have stored it with food for such an emergency as this.’

“The stranger then told me that he was the Protestant pastor of the neighbouring district, and that, though compelled to quit his church, he still ministered in secret among his former flock, who supplied him with food, and warned him of the approach of danger. He had devoted himself to assisting those Protestants who, less fortunate than himself, came to that part of the coast.

“‘I am aware,’ he said, ‘that at any moment I may be discovered; and yet I feel that I am called to this work. God in His mercy has thought fit to preserve me from the hands of my persecutors!’

“Supplied with food and other necessaries by this brave and good man, I remained for several days in the cave. He had a sad account to give me of the fate of most of the fugitives who had been unable to get on board the vessel. Some were cruelly sabred by the dragoons, even though crying for quarter. Others—men, women (young and old), and children—were lifted up on their horses, and carried off at full speed to the neighbouring town, where they were thrown into the dungeons already crowded with prisoners.

“At length the good pastor considered it safe to conduct me to a lonely farm-house, where he told me I must remain till he could arrange for my passage to England. I longed to go, in the hopes of recovering my dear little Elise. Nearly a month passed before he was able to make the desired arrangements. I wished to pay the good people with whom I had lived, but they would receive no remuneration, and insisted on carrying me in a cart to the beach, where the boat was ready to receive me. A gale came on soon after we were at sea, and we were driven up the Channel till we were off the town of Yarmouth, where at length I landed. Some co-religionists of the good Mr Gournay, living in that town, hearing of my arrival, received me in their house; and from thence I came on to Norwich, where I have ever since resided. In vain I have made inquiries for my dear little Elise, greatly helped by my kind friends in this house, but no news have I received of her. You, I am told, Monsieur Deane, are likely to be constantly moving about the country, and it is possible that you may thus hear of the little girl, should she have escaped.”

“But she must have greatly grown since the time you speak of,” observed Deane: “it was fully ten years ago, was it not?”

“Ah, yes—yes!” answered Madame de Mertens; “but she cannot be so changed that I should not know her; and you may hear, among the Huguenot families, of a little orphan girl, though, I fear, alas! that there are many, many such. I will show her picture to you as I conceive her to be, and that perhaps may help you. I have drawn it often and often; for my great delight is to think of the little girl, and of my dear husband also. You would not know him though, I fear, if he survives, so greatly changed must he be by the hardships and barbarities he has gone through. Compared to his, my own fate has been fortunate, thanks to the generosity of my kind friends in this house, and to others. I have also been able to support myself by teaching, and have even had it in my power to help others of my countrymen who required assistance; but still the picture of my dear husband, in that dreadful slave-ship, is constantly coming before me; and often and often I think of my beloved child, thrown among strangers, who may too probably be of an inferior class, unable to give her instruction, or perhaps Papists, who will bring her up in a faith so contrary to that for which her father died, and those who love her suffered!”

Jack, much interested in what he heard, promised faithfully to lose no opportunity of making inquiries for the little Elise, who, however, by that time must have been fifteen years of age—a fact which her mother, when first describing her, seemed to have overlooked.