Part 5
One of our boats fell in with some floating spars, which were lashed together so as to form a kind of floating raft; and on turning them over, a scene presented itself that filled every soul with anguish. A young female apparently about twenty-two, with an infant fastened round her body, had been secured to the timber,--perhaps the last sad office of a tender husband, who in the affectionate solicitude of his heart, had vainly hoped to rescue them from death. They were taken on board the frigate, sewed up in a hammock, and again consigned to that element at once their destruction and their grave.
One other ship was still missing; what became of her, I never heard; but after waiting a proper time, we pursued our way to the island of St. Jago, the place of rendezvous. A succession of fine weather soon deadened the remembrance of the past, and by the time of our reaching the Cape de Verds, the “red flag at the fore” had once more gained the ascendancy. The novelties which presented themselves at Port Praya, the oranges, the cocoa-nuts, and above all, the monkeys sporting in their native cunning unrestrained among the green foliage, were delightful; whilst the waters in the bay were so clear and transparent, that fish could be distinctly seen at the depth of from thirty to forty feet swimming above the silver sand that covered the bottom.
Having refitted and watered, the anchor was once more weighed, and we again directed our course to the place of destination. At the latitude appointed, we parted from our convoy, and then were left alone. Days, weeks passed on, and no sail ever appeared in sight to change the dull monotony. It was still the same unvaried scene of sky and ocean, and not unfrequently severe and boisterous weather. At the end of five weeks, we were gratified by the sight of a ship steering towards us, and in a few hours had retaken a fine Indiaman, prize to a French frigate. No time was lost in securing her, but the irreparable devastation caused by scurvy among our crew, rendered it necessary to proceed with our recapture to Madras; and thither we hastened.
On our arrival, fresh scenes that appeared like enchantment opened upon me. The natives on their catamarans, formed of three or four logs lashed together, dashing without dismay through the tremendous surf that rolled upon the beach with everlasting roar, and the manners and habits of the people, filled my young mind with wonder and admiration. I regret that my first letter to my poor mother is not forthcoming; in fact, the worthy soul considered it such a concentration of genius and talent,--I much question whether there was not some little exaggeration in my descriptions,--that she wore it completely out by carrying it in her pocket to show to all her friends and neighbours.
We remained three years in the East Indies without anything material occurring, and then the cry was--“Huzza for old England!” But it would be an almost endless task were I to enumerate all my adventures, perilous and humorous, and sometimes a combination of both, in my strenuous endeavours to attain the “red flag at the fore.” Before my six years had expired, I had been in seven different engagements, received three wounds, (one of them severe,) been once shipwrecked, and once taken prisoner, but escaped. Storms I had weathered many; had visited the coast of Africa, South America, and New South Wales; but still I endured every thing for the sake of the “red flag at the fore.”
At the expiration of six years, I passed my examination for lieutenant and received my certificate of qualification; which, after waiting a modest time, I forwarded with a memorial to my patron, who had been elevated to the House of Peers. His answer was, that “things were materially changed since I first went to sea; the same individuals were not now in office, and he much questioned whether he could obtain my promotion; indeed he hinted that it would be better for me to quit the service, and apply myself to some other profession.” I cannot describe my disappointment and vexation. Through the representations of this man, I had given up the sweets of childhood to endure the severest hardships and privations. I had toiled unflinchingly in my duty; I had fought the battles of my country, and could show my honourable scars; and thus to have the “red flag at the fore” torn down by the hand I expected to raise me!--my pride, and every feeling of my heart, revolted against it. I was determined to persevere.
Other six years passed away, in which I was a partaker of some of the most brilliant achievements of the war, when I was honoured, after thirteen years’ servitude, with a lieutenant’s commission. But even then it was not gained by any desperate act of valour, or by those feats which are dear and precious to every British sailor’s heart; but simply by obtaining (through the present of a handsome Cashmere shawl) the interest of a fair lady, highly esteemed by the First Lord of the Admiralty. However, I got the white lapels, and that was, as Moriarty observed, “the first step up the ratlines” towards the “red flag at the fore.”
After this, things went on tolerably ill among some sharp fighting and many hard knocks. My poor mother slipped her cable for the blessed haven of eternal rest. My sister got married to a pirate, who plundered my father’s property, and then cast her adrift upon the world. The old gentleman’s gray hairs were brought with sorrow to the grave, my sister’s coffin was soon placed upon his breast, and I was left desolate.
Still the “red flag at the fore,” like a will-o’the-wisp, lured me on. I conducted one of the fire-ships at Lord Cochrane’s attack upon the French fleet in Basque Roads; had the command of a gun-boat at the storming of St. Sebastian, and was with the army at the sortie from Bayonne, in which I got a crack on the head--not big enough to jump in, to be sure, but it set my brains spinning for a month. I commanded a fast-sailing schooner charged with despatches for Wellington, when he was expected to occupy Bordeaux, and entered the Garonne in the dead of the night, lighted on my way by the flames of a French eighty-gun ship that had been set on fire to prevent her falling into the hands of the English; and having anchored in a secure position, left my vessel in a four-oared boat, passed the batteries undiscovered, and executed my orders as the brave marshal stood in the great square, with white flags and beauty greeting his arrival.
Peace came: Bonaparte was elbowed off to Elba, and the “red flag at the fore” was as far off as ever. My vessel was paid off, and after many years of activity, I entered upon a life of indolence. But as Dr. Watts very wisely observes, in one of the hymns which I was compelled to learn at school when a child,--
“Satan finds some mischief still, For idle hands to do;”--
so I e’en got married. The fair lady (she is now peeping over my shoulder) attracted my attention at church by the broad and bright ribands that graced the front of her bonnet. They reminded me of the “red flag at the fore,” and an inglorious sigh escaped. Now every body knows that a sigh is the beginning of love, for Byron says,
“Oh, love! what is it in this world of ours That makes it fatal to be loved? Ah, why With cypress dost thou wreath thy bowers, And make thy best interpreter a sigh?”
Well, but to make short of it, I got married; but no sooner had Napoleon returned from Elba, than I was again at my duty. I was sent by Sir Pulteney Malcolm, then naval commander-in-chief at Ostend, with a party of seamen to man the great guns in the army under Wellington on the plains of Waterloo, and the “red flag at the fore” once more opened on my view. It was on the very morning after the decisive battle, that between Brussels and Bruges, I met the first detachment of prisoners coming down from the field, and was ordered to take charge of them to Ostend. There were about two thousand officers and men, most of them wounded and without a single application or dressing to the mangled parts; yet their devotion to Napoleon was unabated, and with their stiffened limbs sore with laceration, and their bodies gashed and scored with sabre cuts, they still shouted, “_Vive l’Empereur!_”
The battle of Waterloo ended the war; Bonaparte was despatched to St. Helena, and all prospects of promotion are over. My noble patron has accomplished the number of his days, and no “red flag at the fore” will ever fall to my lot, unless indeed I include a certain Bardolphian tinge to the most prominent feature of my face, which has been _red at the fore_ for some years past; but excepting the half-pay of a lieutenant, a small remnant of prize-money, and a wife and seven children, I am as poor as a churchwarden’s charity-box.
THE PRISONER.
“It is thou liberty! thrice sweet and gracious goddess, whom all in public and in private worship, whose taste is grateful and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change.”
STERNE.
Twenty years had floated down the stream of time since my escape from a French prison, and my almost immediate embarkation for the East Indies with cheerful prospects and with a glowing heart. Hope and enterprise urged me on in my career, and the efforts of my industry were crowned with complete success. But ah! how dear the purchase; an Asiatic clime had undermined my constitution, and ill health had rendered me peevish and discontented; so that I determined once more to visit the land of my nativity, and I embarked in an Indiaman for that purpose.
Only those who have been long estranged from the home of their fathers, and are returning to it with ardent expectation and thrilling apprehensions--only those can tell the mingling sensations of pain and pleasure that agitate the breast, as the tall ship urges on her course--“splash, splash, along the wave,”--while the anxious mariner, day after day, calculates his distance from the shore and sighs to find it yet so far away.
At last, I trod on British ground, but how changed were all things since my departure! The authors of my being were no more; the companions of my youth were scattered upon the wide world, or numbered with the dead; while others whom I had folded in my arms at parting, and felt my cheek bedewed with their tears, now received me with distant politeness and cold reserve. No cheering heart-descriptive smile of affection welcomed my return, and I found myself alone, unfriended and unblest. Society became my aversion, and withdrawing from the world to the cottage where I first received existence, my days were passed in nurturing the melancholy that consumed my heart, and my chief gratification was to pass the hours of solitude near the tomb of my parents. There I would pour out my griefs, and pray to join them in the blissful realms of immortality; but a life like this, working upon a debilitated constitution, soon shattered my intellects, and my reason became impaired.
One lovely evening in August, I had taken my usual position, and the stillness of the hour, the serenity of the air, the surrounding scenery, teeming with the choicest blessings of nature’s store and gilded by the last rays of the setting sun, operated like enchantment on my mind; while the solemnity of the lone churchyard, spread with the turf-raised tenements of death, wrought upon my disordered imagination, and filled me with a superstitious awe. The darkening shades of twilight fell heavier on the landscape, and I gazed around with indescribable sensations, fearing my eyes might rest on some unearthly form, yet desperately wishing to know the secrets of the clay-cold prison-house.
At this moment, as the full round moon shed her pale lustre on the monumental stones, bleached by many a winter’s storm,--at this very moment, my sight fell upon a strange mysterious figure, crouched near a new-made grave. Every fibre of my heart was racked to the extreme, every nerve was strung with maddening resolve. I rushed toward the spot; but what was my horror, what were the sickening sensations of my soul, when the figure raised his pale face, and as the moon-beams fell upon it, I beheld the well-remembered countenance of one who had shared the pastimes of my boyhood, who had been my fellow-prisoner at Verdun, whose untimely death I had deplored, and whose mortal remains I had myself seen consigned to the silent grave. It spoke; the voice seemed to be the same, though mournful and sepulchral, and every faculty of my mind seemed to be suspended. Again it spoke, and recognised me,--changed as I was,--called me by name, and rising from the earth, stretched forth its hand to welcome me. I shrunk back for an instant, my brain was suddenly as if on fire, and then again was chilled to icy coldness; life seemed to tremble on the verge of eternity. I sprang forward, grasped the extended hand, and fell senseless to the earth. On again recovering, the spectre was gone, but the recollection flashed upon my mind. I hastened towards my cottage, and entered it a maniac.
Months passed away in this unhappy state;--sometimes the attendants were animated by the faint glimmerings of hope, at others they were prepared to resign me to the angel of death. However, contrary to every expectation, I slowly recovered my reason and my health, when after a careful explanation, the fancied spectre again visited me, and was received as my old, my intimate friend; in short, we had been deceived respecting his death and burial through the infamous intrigues of the commandant, Wirrion, and from his own lips I heard the following account:--
“You may remember, B----, the kindness which many of the prisoners experienced from the inhabitants at Verdun, and the tender attachments that united numbers of youthful hearts together, softening the loss of liberty, and lightening the bonds of imprisonment. Can you forget Adele,--the beautiful, blooming, innocent Adele? Do you not recollect the first time we saw her at the gathering in of the vintage, when her luxuriant auburn hair was entwined with the green leaves of the vine, and she presided as the queen of the festival? Have you forgotten the sweet voice that warbled forth such strains of harmony? Yes! you may forget, but I never can.
“From that moment I loved Adele; from that moment our hearts were firmly knit together, and every interview served to strengthen our fond regard. She was an orphan, her parents had perished in the sanguinary conflicts of the revolution, and she now resided with a widowed aunt, whose only daughter had pledged her affection to our fellow-prisoner, Robinson. Euphemia was light-hearted, gay, and full of spirit; Adele was firm, cheerful, and enthusiastic, but at times a deep melancholy overshadowed her disposition, nor would she reveal the cause.
“A few months after our first acquaintance, several officers had broken their parole and escaped, the consequence was a rigid restriction on the freedom of the rest; but still money at all times could overcome the watchfulness of the guard. One evening, Robinson and myself had bribed the _gens d’armes_ to permit our straying as far as the vineyard. We found Euphemia at the cottage, but Adele had walked to the verge of the grounds near the town, expecting our approach, and as we had been compelled to enter them by another path, she was not aware of our arrival. I immediately hastened towards the spot where I expected to find her, when a low murmuring sound followed by a faint shriek, arrested my steps. They were repeated still louder, and the sound directed me to the place from whence they proceeded. The cry of distress was enough for a British heart, and forgetting my situation as a prisoner, forgetting every thing but that some one stood in need of my assistance, I rushed forward. The shrieks continued, though fainter, and in a few seconds I reached the spot where Adele, my own sweet Adele, was struggling with a brute in human form. In an instant he was prostrate at my feet, and the fainting, innocent maiden clasped to my breast; but turning my eyes towards the wretch who thus had forfeited all pretensions to the character of man, I saw my fate was sealed,--it was the infamous, the cruel Wirrion.
“Before I could recover from my surprise, the villain had sprung upon his feet and advanced towards us; but stopping short, he gnashed his teeth, and shaking his clenched hand, exclaimed, ‘Eh bien, monsieur!’ and instantly retreated. ‘You are lost,’ cried Adele, ‘my Henry you are lost! ’tis his persecutions have made me wretched, and I did not dare to tell you, lest it might lead to dangerous consequences.’
“We ran to the cottage, related the events which had occurred, and then bidding the sweet girls farewell, with heavy, dejected spirits Robinson and I instantly returned to our quarters.
“Day after day passed on, but no public notice was taken of the transaction. No! the villain played a deeper game. Our minds were kept in a state of continued alarm by mysterious hints, rigid watchfulness, and harsh regulations; till at last, in conjunction with our faithful adherents, who sacrificed all selfish feelings to secure our safety, we projected our escape, and they prepared to supply us with every requisite for the purpose. Oppression had stirred up my spirit, and I longed once more to tread the deck in the service of my country; yet to leave Adele, whom I so fondly loved, and to leave her too exposed to such a monster,--my heart sickened at the thought.
“I was sitting in my apartment, agitated by struggles between affection and duty, reflecting that every means would be employed to shorten my days if I remained, and the many chances there were against my escape, when a lad entered and intimated that there was a peasant waiting below, who wished to deliver a message. The person was introduced, and we were left alone; but what was my surprise to find, under a peasant’s garb, my beautiful Adele. She had brought the disguises we were to assume, and came, as she said, ‘to weep her last farewell!’ Often did I declare it was impossible to leave her; and as often did she press my departure with an earnestness that surprised and distressed me.
“Every thing at last was finally arranged, and on the ensuing night, Robinson and myself were to repair to a particular spot, where, upon a concerted signal, a faithful guide would be ready to attend us. Short was our interview,--I pressed her to my heart,--we pledged our solemn troth,--and--she tore herself away.
“The following morning, Robinson received his instructions, and to avoid suspicion, we kept within doors through the remainder of the day. At dusk we sallied forth, and passed the gates just before they were closed, not without suspicion, but our disguises were so admirably contrived, as to deceive the penetrating looks of the guard. The night was dark and stormy, and it was with great difficulty we reached the suburbs near the vineyard. Here poor Robinson formed the resolution of once more seeing Euphemia; and though I pointed out the danger, yet my own heart was involuntarily attracted towards the cottage. We approached, but were compelled to abandon the design, as the _gens d’armes_ were evidently on the watch.
“We returned to the spot where our guide was to be in waiting, and made the signal; but it met with no reply, and we dreaded lest by delay we had forfeited the opportunity of escape. Crouched behind a jutting rock, after remaining some time longer in anxious suspense, we saw a figure moving at a short distance; the signal was again given, and by being answered, we knew it to be our guide. He appeared, from his stature, to be a mere lad; but the darkness of the night and a broad-brimmed hat, concealed every feature of his face. Not a word passed on either side, and we commenced our march over a rugged track winding among the rocks, that greatly impeded our progress, till we came suddenly upon the main road, and the next moment were surrounded by a troop of cavalry. They interrogated our guide, but he was silent; they addressed us, and suspecting we were betrayed through the machinations of Wirrion, I was on the point of venting my indignation on the guide, when he prevented it by answering we were peasants. The reply not satisfying the officer, and the guide preparing to pass on, he struck him a severe blow on the head with the flat of his sword; a piercing shriek followed, that wrung my soul to agony,--such a shriek as had once before fell upon my tortured ear; it was Adele,--the generous, self-devoted Adele,--and she fell into my arms breathless and bleeding.
“The officer and several of the troop alighted on discovering that our guide was a female, and every means were used to restore animation, which, after considerable exertion, proved successful; and we were informed that our condition was well known, as they had only a short time before seized the conveyance which was to carry us beyond the frontiers, and had extorted the whole plot from the driver.
“There are some situations to which human nature may be exposed, that come like a blight upon the heart, chilling every faculty, and such was my case now; an icy coldness crept through my whole frame, and a faint sick shuddering shook every nerve. Adele was still supported in my arms, but I experienced neither grief nor pleasure; her blood ran streaming down my breast, but excited neither horror nor resentment; not a single murmur escaped from my lips, yet an insupportable weight of anguish pressed heavy on my soul. I heard the curses and execrations of our captors with indifference; but when they came to force her from me, then--then my spirit was aroused,--then my dormant faculties awakened from their stupefaction, and clasping her closer to my heart, I swore to hold her there till death. The courageous girl clung round me with all the powerful strength of maddening desperation, but how futile were our efforts against the united force of such a band! we were forcibly torn from each other; I saw her tender arms pinioned with cords; I saw her mounted on one of their horses; my stupor returned, and I patiently suffered them to bind my hands. Robinson and myself were conveyed to the citadel, and put in close confinement.
“On the following morning, Wirrion came to our prison, and a ghastly smile of infernal satisfaction played upon his features. Every epithet my tongue could lavish on a villain, was poured on him. At first he shrunk back; but approaching nigher, I heard his detested voice in a half whisper muttering between his teeth, ‘Remember Adele!’ My hand was instantly writhed in the wretch’s collar, but the bayonets of the guard were presented,--nay, even pricked my breast, and the pain compelled me to quit my hold, and we were condemned to solitary confinement for breaking our parole. Oh! how many hours and days of agonized suspense followed close upon each other! and though a cheerful gleam would sometimes break upon our dreary solitude, yet the uncertainty as to what had become of those we loved, clouded the brightest moments. In vain exertions were used in our behalf; we were considered dead to the world, and all its enjoyments.