Every Man Will Do His Duty Read online

  Towards the conclusion of our journey I suffered acutely on one occasion from exhaustion and implored the gendarmes to let me sit down for a few minutes. They peremptorily refused. I then asked to be allowed to get something to drink as we passed a public-house, with the same result. On reaching the next prison I fairly sank to the ground and gave myself entirely up, careless what they might do. After some considerable trouble I was taken within, and the gendarme then came to me and said that he did not intend any unkindness in refusing to let me rest on the road, but he knew only too well that when a prisoner in a similar condition was allowed to halt, it was next to impossible to get him to move again.

  At the bureau at Verdun the authorities at first refused to acknowledge me as an officer at all; and well they might refuse, for my personal appearance betokened anything but a respectable caste; my boots were toeless and had not enjoyed contact with a brush for eighteen months. My trousers, despite the friendly offices of the women at Caen, had broken into instalments, and my shirt was a curiosity. My coat was a model of good ventilation, and my hair, which curled over my head, had forgotten the application of any other comb save what nature permitted me to adapt in my fingers.

  Upon being satisfied at last of my respectability, I was committed to the citadel, where I was put into a comfortable room and treated as became my rank.

  I had not been here for more than two or three days when I remarked that certain fellow-prisoners were chalking out a plan of escape. I therefore resolved to keep my weather eye upon them without exciting suspicion. My room was in a part of the building appropriated to officers of higher rank than that held by my fellow-prisoners who were in the conspiracy. In fact I had the most fortunate situation that was possible. It had struck me as being peculiar that on several occasions I had found more than one of the parties dodging about the vicinity of my compartment; and once on returning there I must have unexpectedly given an alarm, as a fellow bolted suddenly from a door which stood opposite to mine in the corridor, and in his hurry omitted to close it fast. I then took the liberty of looking, and to my astonishment discovered the whole plot. They had removed the stones from the wall on one side of the room and made an opening of quite two feet square—which led to another chamber where there was a little den with a curiously devised window.

  The place had originally been a convent, and it struck me that the cell to which I allude must have been adapted for the solitary confinement of the nuns. The window that pierced the massive wall described in its course the segment of a circle, so that the light from without was reflected but scantily into the cell. Beyond the curve of the arch it was impossible to see. The aperture, however, was of sufficient dimensions to allow the forced passage of a slight figure. So this is your game, I mentally ejaculated. Satisfied on this point, I retraced my steps, secured the door, and sought the open air. Whilst strolling about, one of the prisoners, Devonshire, a midshipman, came close to me and observed, “I think it will be a fine night?” I replied I thought it would be, and added, “And when do you go?” He affected not to understand me, but I continued more unequivocally, “I know of your intentions to escape and the means to which you have resorted for accomplishing your purpose, but let me advise you not to go so frequently to the place of your rendezvous, to be more careful when you do go, and to be quick in your movements.”

  He was now fully convinced of my acquaintance with the scheme afloat; and I proposed to profit by it also but not at the risk of compromising their success. He listened to my proposal and said he would go and refer it to his companions. He came back with a unanimous offer for me to join them in leaving together—which I joyfully accepted. There were three concerned—viz., Devonshire, Gordon, and Street. I made a fourth. Their plan had been dexterously conceived, but so far rather clumsily executed, because, had suspicion not been asleep among the officials, they must have noticed the constant visits of the confederates to a part of the establishment in which these had no business; and had they repaired thither to ascertain the reason, there was nothing in the world to prevent their seeing the breach in the wall.

  Being the eldest and the senior in rank, I took the lead, and as my room was so contiguous to the principal scene of operations, I could give very material assistance in hastening the crisis. This soon arrived. We had repeated consultations in my room; for now it was manifest that I had picked up a friend or two amongst my fellow-prisoners, and it was only natural they should spend a great deal of time with me.

  From my window we could look into a fine garden, where a noble pear-tree reared its branches above the central wall. Directly under the window was a sentry’s beat, over which one of those inconvenient gentlemen passed day and night. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to make our plans as perfect as possible to evade his vigilance at the onset, as one end of his beat went painfully close to the spot upon which we should descend upon emerging from this prison. It was therefore agreed that the selected night should be a dark one; that we should be furnished with a strong rope of twisted sheets and strong pegs; that a midshipman who was unwilling to share the risk of our exploit but yet agreeable to lending us a hand, should sit at my open window, from which the light was thrown across the sentry’s path, and play certain airs upon a flute to apprise us when the sentry was close or distant; that Gordon should then descend first; and that as soon as each one reached the ground he should, accordingly as the musician admonished, either remain immovable until the tune changed, or dart quickly across his track into the gloom beyond.

  Our stations at the pear-tree were allotted and, if the darkness served, the night appointed.

  The hour came when I had been about seven days at Verdun, and was all that could be desired. We were highly favoured, as, in addition to a darkness rivalling the shades of Erebus, a light wind, strong enough to scatter the leaves and make a noise, sprang up. On gaining the cycloidal window, Gordon’s courage, he being very juvenile, failed him, and he expressed a fear of being able to push himself through the confined space which constituted our means of egress. Thereupon Devonshire interposed and insisted on leading the way. He soon effected the desired passage. But it still remained for him to get safely into the garden without alarming the sentry. The flute began its piping melody, and the wished-for tune came wafted on the breeze. Now, however, the slower air succeeded, and we held our breaths. Anon the desired note recurred, and we knew that Devonshire’s retreat was assured. One by one the rest of us followed. This was the most anxious part of the programme, and we performed it without a fault.

  Now for the tree. Gordon took the start and his position on the wall, and we placed ourselves on the branches in a perpendicular line beneath him. The top of the wall was covered with tiles, and a portion of them had to be removed before we could fix the pegs and rope for our descent into the moat. We were still disagreeably near the sentry, and caution was the order of the night. Gordon carefully removed one tile at a time, which was handed down from one to another and deposited gently at the foot of the tree. This done, with but a few interruptions, we fixed the rope, and found ourselves on the safe side of the enemy.

  I now resigned myself to the safe guidance of my companions, as they were well acquainted with the geography of the locality, two of them having been prisoners at Verdun for some years. We soon got out of the moat and then made for the town, where an English midshipman was on the qui vive expecting us. He was at liberty on his parole and joined us before we had gone far. To his house we first repaired and remained the night. In the interval he provided us with another sanctuary in the house of a German count, where we went in the morning. We were received very graciously and put into his bedroom, where he directed us to lock the door and not open it again on any account except to himself. He had not left us long when somebody tried the door—evidently a woman by her tread. One of our number, at the moment quite oblivious to the caution, jumped up to undo the lock, but we restrained him, and the person departed. She returned, however, in a few minutes, and the
same fellow through some unaccountable impulse of madness or folly gained his end this time, and before any one could interpose, let in the applicant. The woman’s astonishment may be supposed at seeing her master’s room occupied by four questionable-looking strangers, and without saying a word she beat a retreat.

  The count’s surprise and annoyance was great on hearing of this insane contretemps, but he ordered us at once to betake ourselves through a trap-door overhead into a little cupola or look-out above the room, just large enough to hold us packed like sardines. Whatever had induced Street to act so foolhardily neither he nor any one else could explain. He was sorry for it afterwards, but the thing was done. We were left in the cupola without anything to eat or drink until night, when we disentangled ourselves and were taken to the house of a neighbour, and conducted into a large unoccupied loft—which had never been finished. It was next to the kitchen, into which we could plainly see through the seams of the partition. Here we were left to beguile ourselves as well as we could for the remainder of the day. Presently there appeared on the same scene a man and a woman, who quickly took their departure on finding themselves in the presence of strangers. This little incident gave us some apprehension, and when our friend appeared again we mentioned it to him. He shared our fears and counselled a speedy retreat to another place of refuge. We then repaired to a house where an English lieutenant on parole was lodging. On being acquainted with our wishes he came out and told us that, with every disposition to assist us, it was not in his power to take more than one of the party under his care. “You are all strangers to me, gentlemen,” he continued, “but I hear there is a lieutenant among you, and I would fain select the man to serve who is of my own rank and position in the service.” It was hereupon resolved that I should accept his offer, as the smaller the party became the better. We shook hands for the last time and separated.

  Two of the number, Street and Gordon, I afterwards heard, had reached the seashore and ventured out by themselves in a small boat and were drowned. Long after the above events Devonshire and myself met one day by accident in the streets of London. He had escaped from France about the same time as I had, he having been fully under the impression that I was dead.

  My new protector recommended me to go into the bath and amuse myself there as long as I liked—a bit of advice very necessary. My patience was not taxed much this time. The lieutenant reappeared with my old messmate Conn, who was also on parole. By them it was arranged that I should follow them at a certain distance to the abode of Thomas—like Conn a prisoner at large. But first of all he presented me with a cap that had a gold tassel. They then set out and stopped at the house, which they entered; but here an unfortunate mistake occurred. Mr. Thomas did not live in that house, they were told, but next door. Some little delay had taken place, and I was now close to their heels when they emerged and passed on to the next door. Here again they were equally disappointed, and were assured that Mr. Thomas did live in the house they had just left, but in the upper part of it. Back we went.

  These desultory movements attracted the attention of an old pensioner, who communicated his observations to a gendarme; and on hearing some heavy footsteps in the rear I had just time to conceal myself behind a glass door with a curtain across it, when my friends were accosted very civilly by the official and asked if “Mr. Jackson was there?” A woman was occupied in the room, and divining how matters stood attracted my notice, and pointed under the bed. The gendarme accepted their answer and quitted the house. Nevertheless it was thought expedient to put me elsewhere as quickly as possible. So I was called out upon the landing and handed over to a little old woman who held a key in her hand, with which she motioned me to follow her. I did so, and we got to a door which she opened, and pushing me through she locked it behind her and ran away downstairs with the key. Woman’s wit for ever, said I to myself, and I made for a huge pile of brushwood faggots filling one end of the room. They were promiscuously heaped together, and I found no difficulty in effecting a passage through them to the farthest corner, where I pulled them about to conceal any opening I had made. Here I crouched down to await the future.

  I had not been too prompt in thus installing myself. The door was opened presently and perhaps a dozen men entered. They gabbled away as only Frenchmen can, and then they made an attack upon the faggots. The pile was pretty thick or I should have suffered more than once from the points of their swords, which they thrust in here and there. One active gentleman got a well-pointed stake which he propelled through the heap, and it hit the wall disagreeably close to where I lay doubled. This apparently satisfied him, as he exclaimed in French, “He is not there,” Despite the critical aspect of affairs I could not help remarking in my mind, “What a lie.”

  I was immensely relieved when the sound of their voices and footsteps assured me of their retreat; but the relief was not permanent. They came back even in stronger numbers than before, and began a fresh inquisition upon the faggots. Fortune certainly favoured me under these ordeals, or I should have, beyond a doubt, been pinked most uncomfortably. Again I rejoiced to hear sounds of their departure. Only one remained, and then, whilst I was speculating on his motives for lagging, all my new-born hopes were scattered beyond redemption by hearing him declare that if I was anywhere in the house I was in the faggots, and he would not go until he had searched every bundle. Confound your perseverance I almost said, as the abominable old foe began to carry out his promise. I have already alluded to the cap I wore. When the gendarme had taken away most of the faggots, and had left relatively a few sticks between us, his eye suddenly caught the glitter of the gold tassel. It was all up with me: he tore down the topmost faggot and revealed your humble servant, with anything but an easy assurance displayed on his countenance.

  “Ah vous …” he cried; for the particular expression denoted by a blank there is an authority in one of Sterne’s narratives which may or may not be familiar to my reader. In reply to this salutation I crawled out, and submitted myself a third time a reluctant captive. An investigation at the bureau, of course, impended, and I was presented formally to the authorities as a fugitive prisoner. Captain F. W. Fane of the English Navy was then awaiting his papers of permission to return to England. He had commanded the Cambrian, and now the fact that he had treated some French prisoners with great kindness having come to the knowledge of the emperor, the latter had ordered his release, and he was now on the point of leaving the French country for his own. He witnessed my introduction and the company in which it was made. I made known the details of my case to him, whereupon he promised to inform a personal friend of mine at the Admiralty of my position. I am sorry to relate that he forgot to redeem this pledge. All remembrance of the poor lieutenant whom he had left in bondage in a foreign land became dissipated in the excitement and joy of recovering his own release.

  The French general examined me himself, and was anxious to ascertain how I had descended the wall of the convent. “By my hands,” I replied. This assertion he could not believe, of course, as my hands bore no marks of the friction usually sustained in such undertakings. A great many other questions were applied, to most of which I answered evasively. At the termination of these I felt dry and parched, and asked for a glass of water. I was refused somewhat abruptly, and the general turned to the gendarme, directing him in almost the same tone of voice to take me to his—the general’s—wife, and bid her give me the best bottle of wine in his cellar. I asked for my parole, promising that if I received it I should respect it; but this he explained was out of his powers to grant.

  In the course of this process a tin case was brought into the room, which invested me with anything but favourable anticipations; for Whitehurst had repeatedly terrified me with the prospect of compulsory confession elicited by those means which, of all things, I most dreaded—namely, the thumb-screws. However, there was nothing to terrible as this in store. I was merely handcuffed and led away along the ramparts of the town to the Porte Chaussée—a prison situated ove
r the gates of the town.

  1811–1812

  On arrival at my new prison I found there were three occupants, one of them being a music-master. I suspected one of the other two of being a spy, but he called himself a captain in the English Army, an old joke even in those days. Nevertheless it was largely due to the kind assistance of this friend, whom I was now misjudging, that I was enabled subsequently to make good my escape from France, as will be explained later. The third occupant was a lieutenant in the East Indian Service, and bore a despicable character. This much for my associates—so far I stuck to the music-master. While at Porte Chaussée I became acquainted with a military lieutenant outside, named George Beamish, who tendered me his good offices in attempting to escape. He visited me frequently, always bringing with him a piece of line. I was to let him know when I was prepared for action, and began my designs at once. In the planks above our heads I detected an unsound corner, and by standing on the shoulder of a companion, who in his turn was elevated upon the bed, I established a hole there one evening through which I squeezed and then fastened the line to the parapet. This having been accomplished, I went back to help the others. It was then understood that each should wait until the others had ascended, and then slip down the parapet in order. I first assisted up the East Indian and then the “military captain,” who, being stout and awkward, made a great noise getting through the hole. This scared the East Indian, who, in complete defiance of the previous arrangement, rushed to the rope and let himself down into the embrace of a gendarme. The stout party, ignorant of his companion’s mishap, quickly emulated his example, but not being an expert in the art of gymnastics, he let the rope slide through his fingers and fell heavily to the ground, breaking his thigh in the fall.