Every Man Will Do His Duty (52 page)

All through the winter I had my eye on a future plan of escape which I communicated to Mr. Throgmorton, inviting him to join me in the attempt. He, however, declined, and I then spoke to Lieutenant L’Estrange, and reminded him of an old understanding between us that if either had a practical view of escaping he should tell the other of it; and I had observed that he was in concert with two others in a design which I felt convinced would prove fruitless. He was surprised that I knew anything about it, but, like the plot at Verdun, it would have been manifest to any one who took the trouble to look at him.

I now submitted my scheme for his approval and offered to take him into league, as he could speak French and I could not. He was not able to decide at once, as he was pledged to a general in the British Army, a prisoner on parole at Verdun, in agreement for standing each other’s bail. He therefore wrote, and received a reply that the general gave him back his parole; so he was at liberty to act upon his own bottom.

My plan was greatly accelerated by an old acquaintance who had lately turned up in the person of the fellow who had broken his thigh at Verdun. I am considerably indebted to his ingenuity for my escape from Bitche. He cajoled the guards into selling to him some of their old clothes and
equipment on the most plausible pretences; and so adroitly did he transact the business that none of them had the smallest apprehension of his real purpose. He obtained a cloak, a cocked hat, a cap and a greatcoat, and a large water-pitcher; and these were all we required with a little self-possession and management to effect our purpose.

During the latter end of February we intended to carry the project into execution. When the time came L’Estrange and I duly rigged ourselves out as became the occasion. He took the cocked hat and cloak, I, the more humble suit and the water-pot. It was then about half-past seven. Until eight the prisoners were allowed to visit the yard, and we went through a very ordinary form of leaving our room at that time. As we were descending the stairs we encountered Leworthy anathematising the sentry below because he would not let him pass according to custom. As his eye met mine he spared the obdurate official any further abuse, and laying hold of me in a playful manner shouted, “Hullo, Jackson, my boy, what are you up to?” “Hush, old fellow,” I said,
sotte voce,
“don’t be a fool, and let go that infernal grip of yours.” He caught at my meaning and intention at once, and seizing me by both hands said, “God bless you, old fellow—I wish I had your luck.” L’Estrange and I then gained the yard.

We had planned that I should take the lead until we gained a spot where we should be challenged. I therefore struck off boldly armed with my friendly water-jar, and passed No. 1 sentinel unmolested. Of course he would not trouble a comrade going to fetch water, and when L’Estrange followed with an easy and familiar air, his cocked hat looming above, it was not probable that the soldier would question the right of a French officer to go where he pleased. Nos. 2 and 3 and 4 were passed with similar success, and we were now at the entrance to a covered way that intercepted our purpose to get past the guard-room. Here L’Estrange was to precede me in order that he might answer the sentry’s challenge in a good accent. I entered already, and was half-way through when I stopped for him to pass on, but looking round I found him standing still at the end. “Come on,” I cried in as loud a whisper as I could, but he only replied, “I can’t,” and when I went back to him I found he could hardly move for laughing. This set me off. He was quite hysterical. We proceeded at length, and received the challenge—
”Qui vive?”
I waited for L’Estrange to reply
“Ami,”
but he never made a sound. The challenge was repeated more vigorously still: L’Estrange held his peace. On the impulse of the moment I gave the word myself, for there was no other alternative left or they would have been down on us. For once in my life I must have spoken French like a native, as the sentry passed us on. L’Estrange still followed, and we made down the slope which carried us to the covered bomb-proof passage, and left another
danger behind us. The most ticklish moment was at hand. I advanced to the gate, but the sentry put his arm before me, and I thought we were lost, when L’Estrange boldly approached, spoke a word or two to the sentry, who released me, and we were free. About two or three hundred yards from the gate we passed close to the sergeant of the guard, who in the darkness gave us no heed.

The snow was now falling. All the better for us. We put our best foot foremost and rushed on in concert. We reached Sarreguemines about four o’clock. I was now in another guise, having discarded the friendly coat and cap, which I deposited in a ditch, where it must have soon been covered with snow. I appeared as a gentleman in full French costume, which I had lately procured direct from Paris, feeling sure that an imposing appearance would be more useful to me than the wretched one I had hitherto been compelled to present in like undertakings. My coat was a well-cut snuff-coloured one, buff-coloured waistcoat, pepper-and-salt breeks, and white top-boots. A man followed us, but vanished on seeing L’Estrange’s cocked hat.

We pushed through Sorbey and applied for admission at a public-house; we were taken in and shown to a large room containing two beds, covered with what I took to be huge bundles. L’Estrange jumped into bed without much premeditation, but I hesitated and sat on a chair looking dismal. There did not appear to be any sheets or blankets—nothing but that uncouth ugly lump of a thing.

“Jump into bed, man,” said L’Estrange.

“But what’s the use?” I remarked. “I am cold and tired, and there is nothing to make me warm.”

“What? Get under this quilt like me.”

“Quilt,” I ejaculated, “call that a quilt?”

“Try it,” he resumed; and I did so sulkily, and oh, the joy, my grief was turned to ecstasy—it was an eider-down quilt and as warm as could be. I had never seen such a thing in my life before.

After a capital sleep I got up and asked the landlord for horses to Metz. After breakfast we started, with an attendant on a third horse, there being two feet of snow on the ground. We had not gone far when we reached the crown of a hill and noticed a gendarme escorting an English prisoner to Verdun. This brought us to a halt; however, we put confidence in the guide, telling him that we wished to avoid the party. He at once “twigged,” and consented to follow out our views; and taking a sharp turn out of the road, he led us by a short cut to Metz. My horse was not in any trim for a long journey, and fell on his knees again and again.

On our arrival at Metz, we dismissed our guide with the horses and sought an hotel. We played our parts as travelling gentlemen and procured
a voiture to Etain, a place not far from Verdun. When close to Verdun we separated, and L’Estrange, being dressed in the uniform of a French officer, walked up to the gates of the town and entered with a military baggage waggon. Not having a parole ticket I was inadmissible, and therefore remained outside depending upon L’Estrange’s good offices with my friends at Verdun. Every officer on parole, when he leaves the town, deposits his ticket with the gate-keeper and reclaims it on return.

I hung dodging about the walls, and not long after L’Estrange’s disappearance I saw two wholesome-looking figures approach from the town. I divined them to be Englishmen at once, and when they came near accosted them. They were such, and without telling them of my position, I merely asked them if they would carry a message for me into Verdun to a friend named Conn, and say that someone was waiting for him outside. The answer I promptly received was: “Take the message yourself,” and they walked off. “Well, you’re a couple of ungracious beasts,” I grumbled to myself as they left me, and I began to cudgel my brains as to what should be done next, when I observed that they had returned and were coming back towards me. I was in no humour to come into collision with such bears, and was on the point of avoiding them when one of the two advanced and said, “Was it a meeting, sir, you desired me to promote with Mr. Conn?” Catching at his meaning I disavowed any such intention, and added that, if I was not wrong in thinking that I spoke to two English gentlemen, I would acquaint them with the reason of my former request. They directly informed me of their respective names and rank. One was a major and the other a doctor in the English Army. Upon hearing this I explained that I was a lieutenant in the English Navy just escaped from Bitche, and that having no parole ticket, I was unable to get into Verdun where my friend and former messmate was at present living, and I wished to appraise him of my neighbourhood. They redeemed their former conduct by executing my commission without further hesitation, and reappeared soon after with Conn, who was surprised and delighted to see me. We had a long chat together and arranged to meet again at night, when I was to be at a certain spot under the walls, and Conn and some friends of his would be above with a rope to hand me up. At dusk we separated, and to be secure against surprise I looked out some chance place of concealment until the time appointed for the meeting. I soon found the stunted remains of an old hedge on the common, that grew from a slight elevation, formerly, I suppose, some boundary line on a bank: behind this I lay safely concealed from all stragglers.

At the proper time I cautiously made the spot selected, where I hugged the wall with both ears open to the slightest sound. After some anxious waiting my name was pronounced in a loud whisper, twice. I answered
likewise, and felt along the wall for the rope, which I soon secured. When I tested it and found all fast, I began to ascend monkey-fashion hand over hand, but I had scarcely reached half-way when I discovered the rope itself being hauled upwards. Determined not to let go, I clung savagely to it, and up I went until my hands came into contact with the edge of the parapet, with the result that the skin of my knuckles and the backs of my hands was badly lacerated. A strong grip was then made on my collar, and I was soon standing in the presence of Conn and his confederates, two fine young fellows in the English Army named Beamish. Smarting from the injuries to my hands, I ungratefully muttered as soon as I had recovered breath, “What a damned lubberly trick to haul me up that way.” “Lubberly or not,” answered one of the Beamishes, “you ought to consider yourself devilish lucky to get up at all.” And so I did when I reflected a second, and I thanked them warmly for the good turn they had done me. Only I afterwards wished that they had been a little less zealous in the enterprise and allowed me to scale the wall in a more orthodox manner, for my hands were a frightful sight, and even to this day the marks of the midnight adventure are apparent upon them.

Conn took me direct to some quarters in the town, where I was stored away in a room next to the kitchen. I remained here about a fortnight, during which time L’Estrange came to see me. He paid his share of our late expenses, and told me that his friends, amongst them a Lord and a Baronet, had advised him not to proceed any farther with me, as they considered my ideas of escape too romantic.

L’Estrange’s secession placed me in a dilemma; but I found a new friend in J. Carslake, who was a perfect stranger to me. He was a lieutenant in the Navy, and he procured for me a passport as a Swiss clockmaker. Furthermore, he made arrangements with a man to take me a certain distance from Verdun.

When preparations had been completed I took leave of my protectors and accompanied my guide, who lowered me from the wall by means of a rope which he had brought. It had already been concerted between us that on reaching the ground I should speedily seek the shelter of a large avenue which led up to one of the entrances of the town, and that when I saw a man standing with a white handkerchief in his hand I should join him and follow his instructions. A curious coincidence now happened, which would have undone me but for a lucky bit of judgment on my part. I had entered the avenue and walked hardly one hundred yards, when I saw an
individual with a white handkerchief in his hand. It occurred to me that my supposed ally was disagreeably close to the gates of the town. Thinking this suspicious, I pushed on a while pretending not to notice him. It was well I did so, for some way ahead of this person stood another also holding a white handkerchief. I had no scruples this time, but in passing uttered a word which he answered, as previously agreed upon, and we pursued our way to his cart. In this vehicle we proceeded through the whole night.

The next morning at about breakfast-time we stopped at an inn. My guardian angel put up at a public-house where there were about one dozen gendarmes. He coolly ordered breakfast, said something to me that only required a nod of the head, said something to one of the gendarmes in a manner that all might hear him, then went out to his horse, and in due time came into his meal. It is said that “Fortune favours the brave,” for it was evident that not one of the gendarmes were aware that there was a culprit and an enemy so near to their elbows. It is true they were very busy getting ready their accoutrements and appeared to be much pressed for time.

In proceeding we passed several regiments bound for Russia. A marshal and two outriders came up, and my friend could not get out of the way for the first outrider, and the second struck the horse in the eye, which no doubt made the unfortunate animal a blinker for the rest of his life.

At Chalons he took a place for me in the diligence for Paris. When I entered it I found to my horror it was occupied by seven officers, five of them decorated with the Legion of Honour. The one by whose side I sat was a colonel; and a lady at the further end of the carriage said something to him which I could see related to me, and for which he rebuked her. When we stopped he asked me if I would join them in a bottle of wine, suggesting that if I changed places with a person who was sitting by the side of the driver, I should be more comfortable. I gladly took the hint, but found that I had changed from the frying-pan into the fire, for the guard asked me what countryman I was. I answered “Swiss.” “What canton?” On my naming Berne, he exclaimed, “Ah, my own,” but he had penetration enough to see that I was not disposed to talk, and did not trouble me more.