The world's heroes; a storehouse of heroic actions, golden deeds and stirring chronicles

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A COMBAT WITH POLAR BEARS

THE WORLD'S HEROE:

A STOREHOUSE OF HEROIC ACTIONS, GOLDEN
DEEDS, AND STIRRING CHRONICLES

EDITED BY

A. T. QUILLER-COUCH

ILLUSTRATED

MCLOUGHLIN BROTHERS

NEW YORK

GIFT

CONTENTS

OSS'

An Awkward Twenty Minutes,

Fights with the Flames,

Tales of the North American Indians :

I. A Chance Shot, . . .

II. A Run from a Horrible Death,
The Prison-Breaker,

The Story of the Eddystone,
An Adventure in Spain,
Mistaken :

I. A Mistaken Vengeance,
II. The Blunder of M. Festeau, .
III. The Cornish Voter,
The Raft of the "Medusa,"
Some Episodes of War :

I. A Tragedy of the Pe.mnsular War,

II. How A Fort Was Taken,

III. The Covenanter,
A Desperate Errand,

A Tiger Hunt in India,
Saved at Sea :

I. The Tale ok the "Georgian,''
II. An Adventure in the "Endymion,"
The Pirate's Apprentice,

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THE WORLD'S HEROES:

A STOREHOUSE OF

HEROIC ACTIONS, GOLDEN DEEDS, AND
STIRRING CHRONICLES.

AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES.
The Story of a Buffalo.

jHE haunts of the buffalo are in the hottest parts of Ceylon In the
neighborhood of lakes, swamps, and extensive plains, the buffalo
exists in large herds ; wallowing in the soft mire, and passing two-
thirds of his time in the water itself, he may be almost termed
amphibious. He is about the size of a large ox, of immense bone and strength,
very active, and his hide is almost free from hair, giving a disgusting appear-
ance to his india-rubber-like skin. He carries his head in a peculiar manner,
the horns thrown back, and his nose projecting on a level with his forehead,
thus securing himself from a front shot in a fatal part. This renders him a
dangerous enemy, as he will receive any number of balls from a small gun in
the throat and chest without evincing the least symptom of distress. The
shoulder is the acknowledged point to aim at, but, from his disposition to
face the guns, this is a difficult shot to obtain. Should he succeed in catching
his antagonist his fury knows no bounds, and he gores his victim to death,
trampling and kneeling upon him till he is satisfied life is extinct.

This sport would not be very dangerous in the forests, where the buffalo
could be easily stalked, and where escape would also be rendered less difficult
in case of accident ; but as he is generally met with upon the open plains, free
from a single tree, he must be killed when once brought to bay, or he will soon
exhibit his qualifications for mischief There is a degree of uncertainty in his
character which much increases the danger of the pursuit. A buffalo may
retreat at first sight with every symptom of cowardice, and thus induce a too

6 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES.

eager pursuit, when he will suddenly become the assailant. I cannot explain
his character better than by describing the first wild buffaloes that I ever saw.

I had not been long in Ceylon ; but having arrived in the island for the
sake of its wild sports, I had not been idle, and had already made a con-
siderable bag of large game. Like most novices, however, I was guilty of one
great fault. I despised the game, and gave no heed to the many tales of
danger and hair-breadth escapes which attended the pursuit of wild animals.
This carelessness on my part arose from my first debut having been extremely
lucky ; most shots had told well, and the animals had been killed with such
apparent ease that I had learnt to place an implicit reliance in the rifle. The
real fact was that I was like many others : I had slaughtered a number of
animals without understanding their habits, and was perfectly ignorant of the
sport. This is now many years ago, and it was then my first visit to the
island. Some places that were good spots for shooting in those days have
since that time been much disturbed, and are now no longer attractive to my
eyes. One of these places is Minneria Lake.

I was on a shooting trip, accompanied by my brother, whom I will desig-
nate as B . We had passed a toilsome day in pushing and dragging our

ponies for twenty miles along a narrow path through thick jungle, which half
a dozen natives in advance were opening before us with bill-hooks This had
at one time been a good path, but was then overgrown. It is now an acknow-
ledged bridle-road. At 4 p m , and eighty miles from Kandy, we emerged
from the jungle, and the view of Minneria Lake burst upon us.

It was a lovely afternoon. The waters of the lake, which is twenty miles
in circumference, were burnished by the setting sun. The surrounding plains
were as green as an English meadow, and beautiful forest-trees bordered the
extreme boundaries of the plains, like giant warders of the adjoining jungle.
Long promontaries, densely wooded, stretched far into the waters of the lake,
forming sheltered nooks and bays teeming with wild-fowl. The deer browsed
in herds on the wide extent of plain, or lay beneath the shade of spreading
branches. In some spots, groves of trees grew to the very water's edge ; in
others, the wide plains, free from a single stem or bush, stretched for miles
on the edge of the lake ; thickly-wooded hills bordered the extreme end of its
waters, and distant blue mountains mingled their dim summits with the clouds.

The village of Minneria was about three miles further on, and our coolies,
servants, and baggage were all far behind us. We had therefore na rifles or
guns at hand, except a couple of short guns, which were carried by our horse-
keepers ; for these we had a few balls For about half an hour we waited in
the impatient expectation of the arrival of our servants with the rifles. The
afternoon was wearing away, and they did not appear. We could wait no
longer, but determined to take a stroll and examine the country. We there-
fore left our horses and proceeded.

The grass was most verdant, about the height of a field fit for the scythe

AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 7

in England, but not so thick. From this the snipe rose at every twenty of
thirty paces, although the ground was dry. Crossing a large meadow, and
skirting the banks of the lake, from which the ducks and teal rose in large
flocks, we entered a long neck of jungle, which stretched far into the lake.

The principal tenants of the plain were wild buffaloes. A herd of about a
hundred was lying in a swampy hollow, about a quarter of a mile from us.
Several bulls were dotted about the green surface of the level plain, and on
the opposite shores of the lake were many dark patches, indistinguishable in
the distance ; these were in reality herds of buffaloes. There was not a sound
in the wide expanse before us, except the harsh cry of the water-fowl that
our presence had already disturbed ; not a breath of air moved the leaves of
the trees which shadowed us ; and the whole scene was that of undisturbed
nature. The sun had now sunk upon the horizon, and the air was compara-
tively cool. The multitude of buffaloes enchanted us, and with our two light
double-barrels we advanced to the attack of the herd before us.

We had not left the security of the forest many seconds before we were
observed. The herd started up from their muddy bed, and gazed at us with
astonishment. It was a fair, open plain of some thousand acres bounded by the
forest that we had just quitted on the one side, and by the lake on the other ;
thus there was no cover for our advance, and all we could do was to push on.

As we approached the herd, they ranged up in a compact body, presenting
a very regular line in front. From this line seven large bulls stepped forth,
and from their vicious appearance seemed inclined to show fight. In the mean-
time we were running up and were soon within thirty paces of them. At this
distance the main body of the herd suddenly wheeled round and thundered
across the plain in full retreat. One of the bulls at the same moment charged
straight at us ; but when within twenty paces of the guns he turned to one

side, and instantly received two balls in the shoulder, B and I having fired

at the same moment. As luck would have it, his blade-bone was broken, and
he fell on his knees ; but recovering himself in an instant, he retreated on three
legs to the water.

We now received assistance from a most unexpected quarter. One of the
large bulls, his companions, charged after him with great fury, and soon over-
taking the wounded beast, struck him full in the side, throwing him over with
a great shock on the muddy border of the lake. Here the wounded animal lay,
unable to rise, and his conqueror commenced a slow retreat across the plain.

Leaving B to extinguish the wounded buffalo, I gave chase to the re-
treating bully. At an easy canter he would gain a hundred paces, and then,
turning, he would face me ; throwing his nose up, and turning his bead on one
side with a short grunt, he would advance quickly for a few paces, and then
again retreat as I continued to approach. In this manner he led me a chase
of about a mile along the banks of the lake ; but he appeared determined not
to bring the fight to an issue at close quarters. Cursing his cowardice, I fired

8 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES.

a long shot at him, and reloading with my last spare ball, I continued the
chase.

The lake in one part stretched in a narrow creek into the plain, and the
bull now directed his course into the angle formed by this turn. I thought that
I had him in a corner, and redoubling my exertions, I gained upon him con-
siderably. He retreated slowly to the very edge of the creek, and I had gained
so fast upon him that I was not thirty paces distant when he plunged into
the water, and commenced swimming across the creek. This was not more
than sixty yards in breadth, and I knew that I could now bring him to action.

Running round the borders of the creek as fast as I could, I arrived at
the opposite side, on his intended landing-place, just as his black form reared
from the deep water and gained the shallows, into which I had waded knee-
deep to meet him. I now experienced that pleasure as he stood sullenly eyeing
me within fifteen paces. Poor, stupid fellow ! I would willingly, in my ignor-
ance, have betted ten to one upon the shot, so certain was I of his death in
another instant.

I took a quick but steady aim at his chest, at the point of connection with
the throat. The smoke of the barrel passed to one side. There he stood ; he
had not flinched ; he literally had not moved a muscle. The only change that
had taken place was in his eye ; this, which had hitherto been merely sullen,
was now beaming with fury ; but his form was as motionless as a statue. A
stream of blood poured from a wound within an inch of the spot at which I had
aimed ; had it not been for this fact, I should not have believed him struck.

Annoyed at the failure of the shot, I tried him with the left-hand barrel
at the same hole. The report of the gun echoed over the lake, but there he
stood as if he bore a charmed life ; an increased flow of blood from the wound
and additional lustre in his eye were the only signs of his being struck.

I was now unloaded, and had not a single ball remaining. It was his turn.
I dared not turn to retreat, as I knew he would immediately charge, and we
stared each other out of countenance. With a short grunt he suddenly sprang
forward, but fortunately, as I did not move, he halted ; he had, however,
decreased his distance, and we now gazed at each other within ten paces.

I began to think buffalo-shooting somewhat dangerous, and I would have
given something to have been a mile away, but ten times as much to have
had my four-ounce rifle in my hand. Oh, how I longed for that rifle in this
moment of suspense ! Unloaded, without the power of defence, with the
absolute certainty of a charge from an overpowering brute, my hand instinc-
tively found the handle of my hunting-knife, a useless weapon against such a
foe.

Knowing that B was not aware of my situation, at the distance which

separated us — about a mile — without taking my eyes from the figure before
me, I raised my hand to my mouth, and gave a long and loud whistle. This
was a signal that I knew would soon be answered, if heard. With a stealthy

AN A\VKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 9

step and another short grunt, the bull again advanced a couple of paces towards
me. He seemed aware of my helplessness, and he was the picture of rage and
fury, pawing the water, and stamping violently with his fore-foot. This was
very pleasant ! I gave myself up for lost : but, putting as fierce an expression
into my features as I could possibly assume, I stared helplessly at my mad-
dened antagonist.

Suddenly a bright thought flashed through my mind. Without taking my
eyes off the animal before me, I put a double charge of powder down the
right-hand barrel, and tearing off a piece of my shirt, took all the money
from my pouch — some small coin which I luckily had with me for paying
coolies. Quickly making them into a rouleau with the piece of rag, I rammed
them down the barrel, and they were hardly well home before the bull again
sprang forward

So quick w^as it, that I had no time to replace the ramrod, and I threw
it into the water, bringing my gun on full cock in the same instant. However,
he again halted, being now within about seven paces from me, and we again
gazed fixedly at each other, but with altered feelings on my part. I had faced
him hopelessly with an empty gun for more than a quarter of an hour, which
seemed a century. I now had a charge in my gun, which I knew, if reserved
till he was within a foot of the muzzle, would certainly floor him ; and I
waited his onset with comparative carelessness.

At this moment I heard a splashing in the water behind me, accompanied
by the hard breathing of some one evidently distressed. The next moment I

heard B 's voice. He could hardly speak for want of breath, having run

the whole way to my rescue ; but I could understand that he had only one
barrel loaded, and no bullets left.

I dared not turn my face from the buffalo ; but I cautioned B- to re-
serve his fire till the bull should be close into me, and then to aim at the
head The words were hardly uttered when, with the concentrated rage of the
last twenty minutes, he rushed straight at me.

It was the w^ork of an instant. B fired without effect. The horns were

lowered, their points were on either side of me, and the muzzle of the gun
barely touched his forehead, when I pulled the trigger, and three shillings'
worth of small change rattled into his small head.

Down he went, and rolled over with the suddenly-checked momentum of his

charge. Away went B and I, as fast as our heels would carry us, through

the water and over the plain, knowing that he was not dead, but only stunned.
There was a fallen tree about half a mile from us, whose whitened branches,
rising high above the ground, offered a tempting asylum. To this we directed,
our flying steps, and after a run of a hundred yards we turned and looked
behind us. He had regained his feet and was following us slowly. We now
experienced the difference of feeling between hunting and being hunted ; and
fine sport we must have afforded him.

FACING THE BUFFAI.O.

AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. ii

On he came, but fortunately so stunned by the collision with Her Majesty's
features upon the coin which he had dared to oppose, that he could only reel
forward at a slow canter. By degrees even this pace slackened, and he fell. We
were only too glad to be able to reduce our speed likewise ; but we had no
sooner stopped to breathe than he was up again and after us. At length, how-
ever, we gained the tree, and beheld him with satisfaction stretched powerless
on the ground, but not dead, within two hundred yards of us. We retreated
under cover of the forest to the spot at which we had left the horses, fortunate-
ly meeting no opposition from wild animals, and we shortly arrived at the
village, at which we took up our quarters, vowing vengeance on the following
morning for the defeat we had sustained.

The next morning we were up at daybreak, and returned to the battle-field
of the previous evening, in the full expectation of seeing our wounded antag-
onist lying dead where we had left him. In this we were disappointed : he
was gone, and we never saw him again.

I had now my long two-ounce and my four-ounce rifles with me, and I was
fully prepared for a deep revenge for the disgrace of yesterday. The morning
was clear but cloudy, a heavy thunder-storm during the night had cooled the
air, and the whole plain was glistening with bright drops ; the peacocks were
shrieking from the tree-tops, and spreading their gaudy plumage to the cool
breeze, and the whole face of nature seemed refreshed. We felt the same in-
vigorating spirit, as we took a long survey of the many herds of buffaloes upon
the plain, before we could determine which we should first attack.

A large single bull, which had been lying in a swampy hollow, unobserved
by us, suddenly sprang up at about three hundred yards' distance, and slowly
cantered off I tried the long two-ounce rifle at him, but taking too great an
elevation, I fired over him. The report, however, had the effect of turning
him, and instead of retreating he wheeled round, and attempted to pass be-
tween the guns and the banks of the lakes.

We were about three hundred yards from the water's edge, and he was soon
passing us at full gallop, at right angles, about midway, or a hundred and fifty
yards distant. I had twelve drachms of powder in the four-ounce rifle, and I
took a flying shot at his shoulder.

No visible effect was produced, and the ball ricocheted completely across
the broad surface of the lake (which was no more ^han a mile wide at this
part) in continuous splashes. The gun-bearers said f had fired behind him,
but I had distinctly heard the peculiar fut which a ball makes upon striking
an animal ; and although the passage of the ball across the lake appeared re-
markable, nevertheless I felt positive that it had first passed through some
portion of the animal.

Away the bull sped over the plain at unabated speed for about two hundred
paces, when he suddenly turned and charged towards the guns. On he came
for about a hundred yards, but evidently slackening his speed at every stride.

12 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES.

At length he stopped altogether. His mouth was wide open, and I could now
distinguish a mass of bloody foam upon his lips and nostrils. The ball had in
reality passed through his lungs, and making its exit from the opposite shoul-
der, had even then flown across the lake.

Having reloaded, I now advanced towards him, and soon arrived within
fifty paces. He was the fascimile of the bull that had chased us on the
previous day — the same picture of fury and determination ; and, crouching low,
he advanced a few paces, keeping his eyes fixed upon us, as though we were
already his own. A short cough, accompanied by a rush of blood from his
mouth, seemed to cause him great uneasiness, and he halted. Again we
advanced till within twenty paces of him. I would not fire, as I saw that he
already had enough, and I wished to see how long he could support a wound
through the lungs, as my safety in buffalo-shooting might in future depend
upon this knowledge. The fury of his spirit seemed to war with death ; and,
although reeling with weakness and suffocation, he again attempted to come on.
It was his last effort : his eyes rolled convulsively, he gave a short grunt of
impotent rage, and the next moment he fell upon his back, with his heels in
the air He was stone-dead, and game to the last moment.

But upon turning from the carcase before us, we observed to our surprise
that a large herd of buffaloes, that were at a great distance when we had
commenced the attack upon the bull, had now approached to within a few
hundred yards, and were standing in a dense mass attentively watching us.

Without any delay we advanced towards them ; and upon arriving within
about a hundred paces, we observed that the herd was headed by two large
bulls, one of which was the largest I had ever seen. The whole herd was
bellowing and pawing the ground. They had winded the blood of the dead
bull, and appeared perfectly maddened.

We continued to advance, and were within about ninety paces of them,
when suddenly the whole herd of about two hundred buffaloes, headed by the
two large bulls before mentioned, dashed straight for us at full gallop.

So simultaneous was the onset that it resembled a sudden charge of cavalry,
and the ground vibrated beneath their heavy hoofs. Their tails were thrown
high above their backs, and the mad and overpowering phalanx of heads and
horns came rushing forward as though to sweep us at once from the face of
the earth.

There was not an instant to be lost ; already but a short space intervened
between us and apparently certain destruction. Our gun-bearers were almost
in the act of flight ; but catching hold of the man who carried the long two-
ounce rifle, and keeping him by my side, I awaited the irrestisible onset with
the four-ounce

The largest of the bulls was some yards in advance, closely followed by his
companion, and the herd in a compact mass came thundering down at their
heels. Only fifty yards separated us ; we literally felt among them, and already

AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES.

13

experienced a sense of being overrun. I did not look at the herd, but kept
my eye upon the big bull leader. On they flew, and were within thirty paces of
us, when I took a steady shot with the four-ounce, and the leading bull
plunged head-foremost in the turf, turning a complete somersault

Snatching the two-ounce from the petrified gun-bearer, I had just time for
a shot as the second bull was within fifteen paces, and at the flash of the rifle
his horns ploughed up the turf, and he lay almost at our feet.

That lucky shot turned the whole herd When certain destruction threat-
ened us, they suddenly wheeled to their left, when within twenty paces of the
guns, and left us astonished victors of the field. We poured an ineffectual
volley into the retreating herd from the light guns, as they galloped off in
full retreat, and reloaded as quickly as possible, as the two bulls, though
floored, were still alive. They were, however, completely powerless, and a
double-barrelled gun gave each the coup de grace hy di ball in the forehead.
Both rifle-shots had struck at the point of junction of the throat and chest,
and the four-ounce ball had passed out of the hind-quarters. Our friend of
yesterday, although hit in precisely the same spot, had laughed at the light
guns.

Having cut out the tongues from the two bulls,, we turned home to breakfast.

:r '•*'

THE CHARGE OF THE J{ERD.

14

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES.

|BOUT a hundred years ago, long before James Braidwood had arisen
to organise the fire-brigades of Edinburgh and London and set
the example which has since been followed by every town in
the civilised world, late on a dark afternoon a young stableman,
John Elliot by name, was sauntering carelessly homewards down Piccadilly,
when a glare in the sky, the confused murmurs of a large crowd, and the
hurrying footsteps of pedestrians who passed him, told of a not distant fire.

Following the footsteps of the passers-by, he found himself in one of the
side streets leading off Piccadilly, and there at the end of the street, a large
house was blazing furiously. He worked his way vigorously through the
spectators, now so densely gathered as to form a living wedge in the narrow
street and block it against all traffic, and at length found himself in a position
to see clearly the ruin that had already been wrought on the burning pile.

As a matter of fact, all was pretty well over with the house. How far the
upper storeys were intact he had little means of judging ; ^but he saw that the
ceilings of the first and second floors had given way, and also that the fire
was running along the rafters of the floor above. Flames were pouring from
half a dozen windows. He turned to a man who stood next him in the
concourse, •

" The house is nearly done for," he remarked.

" Quite," replied the man. •' You see it is burned through, and it is only a
question of minutes before the roof must tumble in. The firemen do not dare
to make any further attempt. It is a dreadful business."

" What ? "

" Why, don't you know ? This is Lady Dover's house — poor old soul ! and
she is still there, in the top room. No one can save her now, but it is a
hideous death all the same."

Elliot looked about him and now understood the pallor on the upturned
faces of the crowd. He looked at the house again. The whole street was
wrapped in a crimson mist ; the falling streams of water which the firemen still
continued to direct on the blaze were hissing impotently, and seemed only to
feed the fire. In the crowd that watched there was hardly a sound, one could
almost hear men's hearts beating as they waited for the conclusion of the tragedy
which they knew to be inevitable. But further down the street, where it was
not understood that human life was at stake in the midst of this spectacle,
rose the sounds of girls laughing, men quarrelling and fighting, whistling, oaths,
and merriment. Caps were flyir.g about, and the mass was jostling and sway-
ing to and fro, as before Newgate on a Monday morning.

"Do you mean to say,'' asked Elliot, after a moment, "that the poor old
lady is up there and nobody is going to save her .''"

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 15

" What's the use ? " answered the man. " If you think it possible, better try
for yourself." But this reply was not heard, for the young stableman had al-
ready begun to push his way forward to the group of firemen that stood
watching the conflagration in despair.

He was a man of extraordinary strength, and now with a set purpose
to inspire him still further, he scattered the crowd to right and left, elbowing,
pushing, and thrusting, until he stood before the firemen and repeated his
question.

He met with the same answer. " It was impossible," they said. Everything
had been done that could be, and now there was nothing but to wait for the
end.

" But it is a question of human life," he objected.

In reply they merely pointed to the flame-points now running along every
yard of woodwork still left in the building

Elliot caught a ladder from their hands and, running forward with it,
planted it firmly against the house. He had to choose his place carefully, as
almost every one of the windows above was belching out an angry blaze.

"Which is the window where they were last seen .-' " he asked.

The fireman pointed. The crowd at length finding that a brave man was
going to risk his life, raised a cheer as they caught sight of him, and standing
on tiptoe, peered over each other's shoulders to get a better view of the work
that was forward.

" Now then," said Elliot, " don't try to stop the flames, for that is useless,
but keep the water playing on the ladder all the time "

He slipped off his shoes, and amid another cheer from the crowd, dashed up
it as quick as thought. The window to which the fireman had pointed was
clear of flames. On gaining it, Elliot sprang on to the sill and jumped down
into the room.

It was lighted brilliantly enough by the glow from the street, and through
the dense smoke that was already beginning to fill it he saw two figures.

Both were women, and for a moment the gallant man doubted that he had
come in time ; for so still and motionless were they that it seemed as if the
smoke must have already stifled them, and left them in these startling attitudes
One — a very old lady — was kneeling by the bedside, her head bent forward in
despair, her hands flung out over the counterpane. The other — a tall, heavy-
looking woman — was standing bolt upright by the window. Neither spoke or
stirred, and the kneeling woman did not even raise her head at the noise of
his entrance ; the other, with eyes utterly expressionless and awful, supported
herself with one hand against the wall, and gazed at him speechlessly. Awe-
struck by this sight, Elliot had to pause a moment before he found his speech.

" Which is Lady Dover ? " he cried at last.

The kneeling woman lifted her head, saw him, and with a cry, or rather a

i6

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES

smothered exclamation of hope, got upon her feet and ran forward to hi m
He hurried her to the window. She obeyed him in silence, for it was clear
that terror had robbed her tongue of all articulate speech. He clambered out,

"HE TURNED ON THE TOPMOST RUNfi.

turned on the topmost rung, and flinging an arm round her waist, was lifting her
out, when the other figure stepped forward and set a hand on his shoulder.
The look on this woman's face was now terrible. Something seemed working
in her throat and the muscles of her face : it was her despair struggling with
her paralysed senses for speech.

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. tf

"Me too," she at length managed to mutter hoarsely ; but the sound when
it came was, as Elliot afterwards declared, like nothing in heaven or earth.

" If life is left in me, I will come back for you," he cried.

But his heart failed him when he saw the distance he should have to go,
and still more when he noted her size. For the ladder was slippery from the
water which the firemen kept throwing upon it, and which alone saved it from
catching on fire. Moreover, the clouds of smoke in the room had thickened con-
siderably since his entrance, and it could not be many minutes now before the
floor gave way, or the roof crushed in, or both. He had felt his feet scorched
through his stockings, when he set foot on the boards.

Down in the street the crowd had increased enormously ; gentlemen from
the clubs, waiters and loungers from a distance had all gathered to look. As
Elliot descended the ladder with his burden a frantic storm of cheering broke
forth — for every soul present understood the splendid action that had just
been performed ; and the crush around the foot of the ladder of those who
pressed forward to express their admiration was terrific.

But they knew, ot course, nothing of the stout lady still left in the bed-
room ; and when Elliot, heedless of the cheers and hand-shakes that met him,
flung Lady Dover into the arms of the nearest bystander, and turned again
towards the ladder, they were utterly at a loss to understand what he could be
about.

But he kept his word. A dead hush fell again upon the spectators, as once
more the brave man dashed up the ladder, upon which the firemen had ceased
now to play. Half-way up he turned

" Keep on at the pumps ! " he called ; and then again was up to the window
and looked in. The lady had still preserved her former attitude, though leaning
now further back against the wall and panting for breath in the stifling smoke.
He put his hand out to her.

" Catch hold of my neck and hold tightly round it," he said.

But again she was speechless and helpless. Her eyes lit up as she saw him,
but beyond this she hardly seemed to understand his words. Elliot groaned,
and finding, after another trial, that she did not comprehend, boldly reached in
and grasped her round the waist.

She was heavier even than he had imagined, and for one fearful moment, as
he stood poised on the topmost rung, he thought that all was over. It seemed
impossible that they should ever reach the ground except by tumbling off the
ladder. By a superhuman effort, however, he managed to drag her out, and
then clasping her waist with one arm, whilst with the other he held on like
grim death, he hung breathless for a moment, and then began slowly to de-
scend.

Up to this point there had been no sound in the street below But now,
as the watchers saw his feet moving down the ladder, their enthusiasm broke
out in one deep sigh, followed by yells and shouts of admiration. As the young

18 FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES.

stableman slowly desecended, and finally, by God's mercy, reached the ground
with his burden, these feelings broke all bounds. Men rushed round him ;
Guineas were poured by the handful into his pockets ; and when these and
his hands were full, the gold was even stuffed into his mouth.

But, in the midst of this excitement, a sudden crash caused the spectators
to look upwards again. It was the roof of the house that had fallen in, only a
minute after Elliot had set his foot upon the ground.

The lady whom he had saved by this second brave ascent was a relative of
Lady Dover, by name Mile, von Hompesch. It is pleasant to hear that her
preserver was rewarded by the family of Lady Dover, who bestowed a pension
upon him. At a later period he w^as in the service of the first Lord Braybrooke,
and this narrative was preserved by a member of the family who had often
heard Elliot relate it. Like all brave men, he never spoke vaingloriously of
his exploit ; but always professed great gratitude for his reward, which seemed
to him considerably higher than his deserts.

Among the many heroes of the London Fire Brigade, few have left a brighter
record than Conductor Sunshine, of whose exploits one shall next be related.

In November, 1844, the conductor was summoned to a fire which had broken
out in Hatton Garden. On his arrival the following state of things met his
eye. The second floor of the house-front contained four windows, and at one
of these a man was seated, in his night-shirt, on the window-sill, with his legs
hanging over. At the other extremity of the house-front, and on the third
floor, another man was hanging to a window-ledge by his hands.

The conductor rescued the first-named man, and then turned his attention
to the second. But to save him was no easy task. To raise the third-floor
ladder was too great a risk, for more than likely it would hit the poor fellow's
hands and disengage him from his hold Conductor Sunshine therefore was
driven to try what might be done with the second-floor ladder. By placing it
tn a position as nearly vertical as was safe, and by climbing to the top, he
found that he could just touch, by reaching upwards with his arms, the dang-
ling feet of the unhappy man And in this position, too, he had himself the
scantiest of holds, and only prevented himself from falling backwards by
firmly grasping the frame of a second-floor window, his only footing being on
the topmost rung of the ladder.

Nothing was to be done therefore but to call on the man to let go his hold
and drop. Twice he shouted, but at length discovered from his silence and the
shouts of the spectators below that the man was deaf and dumb ! In despair
now of effecting a rescue, the conductor tapped him gently on the foot. The
man seemed to understand at once, and relinquished his hold on the ledge. It
will hardly be believed that Mr. Sunshine, so situated, contrived to let him slip
gradually down between himself and the wall, and catching him by the waist as
soon as his feet touched the ladder, brought him down to the ground in safety.

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 19

Here are two anecdotes of another conductor, a Mr. Chapman : —

At a fire to which he was summoned, this intrepid man crossed the roofs
of two out-buildings with his ladder, and managed to fix it upon the roof ol
a third and against the second back floor of the burning house Having res-
cued a lady from one of the windows, he had to find his way back over the
roofs of the out-buildings before he could land her in safety on tirra firma.
But the roofs were now on fire ; that is to say, the rafters underneath had ig-
nited, and the flames were now bursting up through the tiling His only pos-
sible road to safety was by planting his ladder across the blazing gulf and
creeping across it with his burden. This he did, and hardly had he touched
the solid earth before the whole of the roof which he had thus traversed fell
in with a resounding crash.

On another occasion, the fire this time being in a house in the Tottenham
Court Road, Conductor Chapman having planted his ladder against the build-
ing and effected an entrance by a second-floor window, was twice driven back
by reason of his lamp going out in the dense smoke Having taken refuge on
his ladder for a second time, and relit his lamp, he once more climbed in
and explored the place. The issue shall be given in the concise and modest
language of his own report ; —

" I called out loud, and was ansv/ered by a kind of stifled cry. I rushed
across the landing to the back room, and encountered a man, who groaned out>
* Oh, save my wife ! ' I groped about, and laid hold of a female, who fell by
me, clasping two children in her arms. I took them up and brought them to
the escape, guiding the man to follow me, and placed them all safely in the
canvas, from whence they reached the ground without any injury ; and, finally,
I came down myself, quite exhausted."

"We thought," said a bystander, 'when he jumped into the second-floor
window that we should not see him alive again : and I cannot tell you how
he was cheered when he appeared with the woman and her two children "

In the next case the hero is a Conductor Wood, who for the following
service, performed on the 29th of April, 1854, received a testimonial on vellum
in commemoration of his gallantry.

The fire took place in Colchester Street, Whitechapel. On the conductor's
arrival, it was raging throughout the back of the house, and dense columns of
smoke were issuing from every window. Upon entering the first-floor room,
part of which was actually blazing at the time, he discovered five persons — a
husband and wife, and three children — almost in a state of insensibility owing
to the appalling heat. His first thought was for the woman He took her on
his shoulders, and holding- a child by its night-clothes in his mouth, descended
the ladder. Returning up the ladder, he re-entered the room, and having di-
rected the father to escape and pointed out the proper means, he had effected
his second descent with the two remaining children, one under each arm, when
the whole building became enveloped in flames from attic to basement.

£0

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES.

After such an exploit as this, it would be thought that to add to the list
would be but to court an anticlimax. Yet the annals of the London Fire
Brigade are full of deeds, often as daring in design and astounding in
execution. But the real hero of the history of this great institution is the

" HOLDING A CHILD BY ITS NIGHT.CLOTHES IN HIS MOUTH." (p. I9).

man who first put it on an eflficient footing, and who spent all the energy of
his life, and finally life itself, in the great task ot saving his fellow-men from
this most horrible of dangers.

James Braidwood was born in Edinburgh in the last year of the last
century. His father, a builder and upholsterer of no mean report in that city,
seems to have designed his son for the profession of a surveyor. But whatever,

Fights with the flames. ±t

the reason, James Braidwood from the first took unkindly to the surveyor's
office, and soon began to turn his mind to what quickly became the absorbing
object of his life. Indeed, in his case, it would seem that a fireman as well
as a poet, nascitur, non fit One or two actions, displaying personal courage as
well as resourcefulness of a high order, having recommended him to the notice
of those in authority, he was, at the age of twenty-three, made Superintendant
of the fire-engines of the city of Edinburgh, and soon began to show his power
as a leader of men.

Almost as soon as he entered on his new office, he began to reform the
system of management, as clumsy as it was antiquated, then in vogue. But
scarcely had he set his hand to the work of reform when that series of fires
broke out which even to the present day are talked about, and discussed in
the reminiscences of the age, as the " Great Fires of Edinburgh."

The scene of the conflagration was the famous High Street, and many of
the ancient and loftiest houses in that city of lofty houses came to their end in
that one famous week. From four hundred to five hundred families were
rendered homeless, ten persons were killed, either outright or by fatal injuries,
and for some days ruin threatened the whole of the High Street, and, as some
thought, the larger part of the Old Town.

The inefficiency then displayed by the Edinburgh Fire Brigade might have
ruined a weaker man in the early days of his responsibility. But, luckily,
Braidwood had already made his voice heard in protest against the old system
of management, and the Scotch are a judicial race. Never, indeed, did a system
stand more obviously in need of reorganisation than that of the Edinburgh
Fire Brigade by the end of the week. All had gone wrong. No one could
command, for there was no one to obey. Energies were wasted in efforts the
most random, and once or twice, while the devastation spread before their
eyes the firemen turned their attention to quarrelling and recrimination,
and were with difficulty restrained from a free fight

This was more ,than enough. The city authorities and the insurance com-
panies, beside themselves with panic, lent a ready ear to young Braidwood, who
struck while the iron was hot. Together they consented, on his recomenda-
tion, to bear the expense of reorganising and maintaining an efficient brigade.
Picked men were soon found, who, though daily plying their ordinary trade,
found time to practice under the new regulations, and were regularly exercised
and inspected once a week in the early morning. The benefits of the new
system were soon appreciated, and the fame of the Edinburgh Fire Brigade
became a household word throughout the kingdom. From this it passed into a
model for every new organisation for suppressing fires, and gave the great start
to the Volunteer Fire Brigade Movement which has for many years now been
so healthy a feature in the life of our towns.

If Braidwood did much by his strength of purpose, he also did much by
the charm of his personality. Never was a man more heartily worshipped by

22 nOHTS WITH THE FLAMES.

his subordinates, in whom he inspired that confidence which has been the great
secret of every successful general. He never exposed a man unnecessarily, and
if some particularly dangerous feat called for performance, would cheerfully
undertake it himself. Thus at a fire in Edinburgh he soon brought with his
own hands out from the burning building a quantity of gunpowder, which was
known to be stored there. He entered alone, and while thousands in the street
below held their breath, coolly searched about, found and carried off first one
cask and then another of the substance which, if ignited, would have enor-
mously increased the disaster of the conflagration.

It was almost ten years after the reconstitution of the Edinburgh Fire Bri-
gade that a similar work was undertaken in London. The different insurance
companies had each its brigade, but the task of uniting them under a single
management, though often attempted, remained incomplete until Braidwood
himself had been invited to come and undertake it.

He accepted : and, as in Edinburgh, the Metropolitan Brigade under his
superintendence became an entirely new force. There was some opposition, at
first, to the rigorous discipline ; but the old firemen were soon pensioned off,
and their places supplied by men who would, and could, obey. For Braidwood
had that other great quality of great generals — he knew how to choose his
subordinates. As a rule — aad the rule is still rigorously followed under Cap-
tain Shaw — he chose sailors, not only because of their trained lightness of
foot, readiness of eye, and general activity, but also because they were ac-
customed to obedience, to irregular duty, and hardy endurance. His own con-
stitution, his incessant vigilance, and his sound judgment set the standard
which it was the ambition of every member af his corps to emulate ; and the
almost paternal kindness of his rule did perhaps more than was generally ac-
knowledged to cultivate that tradition of ready devotion and pride in their own
body which are among the brightest ornaments of the London Fire Brigade.

As at Edinburgh, too, Braidwood had not long settled to his work before
the outbreak of some memorable fires, by throwing the public into a panic,
caused his demands for reform to be listened to with ready ears. In 1834, the
second year of his superintendence, the old Houses of Parliament were burnt,
and this disaster was presently followed by a devastating fire at Mile End.

The following is an extract from the Annual Report of the Institution of
Civil Engineers for the year 1861 :

"He took great interest in the passing of Acts of Parliament for regulating
buildings in the metropolis. The wise provisions introduced through his in-
strumentality into these Acts of Parliament were continually being evaded, and
clusters of warehouses quickly rose which he saw would, if on fire, defy all his
means of extinction. In a letter to Sir W. Molesworth, First Commissioner of
Public Works, dated 10th February, 1854, on the subject of a proposed ware-
house in Tooley Street, he wrote : ' The whole building, if once fairly on fire
in one floor, will become such a mass of fire that there is no power in London

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES.

23

capable of extinguishing it, or even of restraining its ravages on every side ;
and on three sides it will be surrounded by property of immense value.'"

Now, mark the event, which so unhappily confirmed these words. The great
fire at Cotton's Wharf, Tooley Street, broke out on Saturday, June 22nd, 1861,
and continued to rage for upwards of a fortnight, destroying warehouse after
warehouse, to the extent of over two millions' worth of property. It was
discovered in open daylight, and before the flames had made much headway.
This good fortune was soon
of no service from the fact
that but little water was to
be had ; that the goods
stored at the wharf itself
and the immediate neighbor-
hood were all highly com-
bustible ; and that the iron
doors of communication had
been left open, thus at the
same time giving the flames
a path and encouraging
them by a thorough draught

Mr Braidwood was quick-
ly on the spot, and dis-
covering the gravity of
the case, summoned almost
the whole available strength
of the fire-engine establish-
ment. But he quickly fore-
saw that all hopes of saving
the warehouse and property
were idle ; and that the
very utmost that could be
done was to prevent a wide

extension of the fire. So fierce was the conflagration, that after two hour's
work the men in charge of the branch pipes began to suffer considerably from
the heat. Braidwood, always full of consideration for his men, went to give
them a word of encouragment Before this, several explosions had been
heard, in the burning warehouses, as of casks of oil or tallow; but no great
alarm at these was felt, as it was understood that the saltpetre stored at the
wharf was in buildings which had not yet been attacked by the flames.

But just as Braidwood was discharging this, which proved to be his last, act
of kindness to his men, a terrific explosion burst on the air : the lofty wall at
his back was rent, tottered, and came down with a crash, burying him in its
ruins The men near him had barely time to dart back and save themselves

DEATH OP BRAIDWOOD.

24

FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES.

from a similar fate, and a spectator who was standing by Braidwood's side
was buried with him. It is a question if a man can die better than at the
moment when he is discharging the great work of his life ; and there is no
question but that James Braidwood had the most tremendous of funeral pyres.
The fire, which had then fairly begun, was still raging fifteen days after : it
would even seem as if Braidwood, in his letter to Sir William Molesworth, had
been gifted with the power of prophesying his own death.

Our chapter shall conclude with the story of another, and in his way a very
distinguished, member of the London Fire Brigade — the dog " Chance." It
proves that the fascination of fires (and who that has witnessed a fire cannot
own this fascination'.'') extends even to the brute creation. In old Egypt,
Herodotus tells us, the cats used on the occasion of a conflagration to rush
forth from their burning homes, and then madly attempt to return again ; and
the Egyptians, who worshipped the animals, had to form a ring round to pre-
vent their dashing past and sacrificing themselves to the flames. This may,
however, be due to the cat's notorious love for home. In the case of the dog
" Chance" another hypothesis has to be searched for.

The animal formed his first acquaintance with the brigade by following a
fireman from a conflagration in Shoreditch to the central station at Watling
Street. Here, after he had been petted for some time by the men, his master
came for him and took him home. But the dog quickly escaped and returned
to the central station on the very first opportunity. He was carried back,
returned, was carried back again, and again returned.

At this point his master — "Jike a mother whose son will go to sea" —
abandoned the struggle and allowed him to follow his own course Hence-
forth for years he invariably went with the engine, sometimes upon the carriage
itself, sometimes under the horses' legs ; and always, when going uphill, run-
ning in advance, and announcing by his bark the welcome news that the fire-
engine was at hand.

Arrived at the fire, he would amuse himself with pulling burning logs of
wood out of the flames with his mouth, firmly impressed that he was rendering
the greatest service, and clearly anxious to show the laymen that he under-
stood all about the business. Although he had his legs broken half a dozen
times, he remained faithful to the profession he had so obstinately chosen.
At last, having taken a more serious hurt than usual, he was being nursed by
the firemen beside the hearth, when a " call " came. At the well-known
sound of the engine turning out, the poor old dog made a last effort to climb
upon it, and fell back — dead.

He was stuffed, and preserved at the station for some time. But even in
death he was destined to prove the friend of the brigade. For, one of the
engineers having committed suicide, the firemen determined to raffle him for
the benefit of the widow, and such was his fame that he realised ^123 los. ^d. !

25

TALES OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

I. A CHANCE SHOT.

|T ,was in 1779, when America was struggling with England for her
independence, and a division of the English redcoats were en-
camped on the banks of the Potomac. So admirably fortified was
their position by river and steep woods, that no ordinary text-book
of warfare would admit the possibility of surprising it But Washington and
his men did not conduct their campaigns by the book. " If you fight with
art/' said that general once to his soldiery, " you are sure to be defeated.
Acquire discipline enough for retreat and the uniformity of combined attack,
and your country will prove the best of engineers."

In fact, it was with a guerilla warfare, and little else, that the British had
to contend. The Americans had enrolled whole tribes of Indians in their ranks
and made full use of the Indian habits of warfare. The braves would steal like
snakes about the pathless forests, and dashing unexpectedly on the outposted
redcoats, kill a handful in one fierce charge, and then retreat pell-mell back
into their shelter, whither to follow them was to court certain death. The
Injuries thus inflicted were not overwhelming, but they were teasing for all that.
Day by day the waste went on — loss of sentinels, of stragglers, sometimes of
whole detachments, and all this was more galling from the impossibility of
revenge. In order to limit the depredations it was the custom of the British
commanders to throw forward their outposts to a great distance from the main
body, to station sentinels far into the woods, and cover the main body with a
constant guard.

One regiment was suffering from little less than a panic. Perpetually and
day after day sentinels had been missing. Worse than this, they had been sur-
prised, apparently, and carried off without giving any alarm or having time to
utter a sound. It would happen that a sentinel went forward to his post with
finger upon his trigger, while his comrades searched the woods around and
found them empty. When the relief came, the man would just be missing.
That was all. There was never a trace left to show the manner in which he
had been conveyed away : only, now and then, a few drops of blood splashed
on the leaves where he had been standing.

The men grew more and more uneasy. Most suspected treachery. It was
unreasonable, they argued, to believe that man after man could be surprised
without having time even to fire his musket. Others talked of magic, and grew
gloomy with strange suspicions of the Indian medicine-men. At any rate, here
was a mystery. Time would clear it up, no doubt ; but meanwhile the sentry
despatched to his post felt like a man marked out for death. It was worse.
Many men who would have marched with firm step to death in any familiar

26

A CHANCE SHOT.

shape, would go with pale cheeks and bowed knees to this fate of which no-
thing was known except that nothing was left of the victim.

Matters at length grew intolerable. One morning, the sentinels having been
set as usual over-night, the guard went
as soon as dawn began to break to re-
lieve a post that extended far into the
woods. The sentinel was gone ! They
searched about, found his footprints
here and there on the trodden leaves,
but no blood — no trace of struggle, no
marks of surrounding enemies. It was
the old story, however, and they had

" ' I SAW AN AMFRICAN HOG COMING DOWN THE GLADE ' "(/ 28 )

almost given up the problem by this time. They left another man at the post,

and went their way back, wishing him better luck.

" No need to be afraid," he called after them, *' I will not desert."

They looked back. He was standing with his musket ready to fly up to his

shoulder at the slightest sound, his eyes searching the glades before him.

A CHANCE SHOT. 27

There was nothing faint about Tom, they determined, and returned to the
guard-house.

The sentinels were replaced every four hours, and at the regular time the
guard again marched to relieve the post. The man was gone !

They rubbed their eyes, and searched again. But this one had disappeared
as mysteriously as his fellows. Again there was no single trace. But it was
all the more necessary that the post should not remain unguarded They were
forced to leave a third man and return,, promising him that the colonel should
be told of his danger as soon as they got back.

It was panic indeed that filled the regiment when they returned to the
guard-house and told the news. The colonel w^as informed at once. He
promised to go in person to the spot when the man was relieved, and search
the woods round about. This gave them some confidence, but they went
nevertheless with the gloomiest forebodings as to their comrade's fate. As they
drew near the spot they advanced at a run. Their fears were justified. The
post was vacant — the man gone without a sound.

In the blank astonishment that followed, the colonel hesitated. Should he
station a whole company at the post ? This would doubtless prevent further
loss ; but then it was little likely to explain the mystery ; for the hands that
had carried off three sentinels, would, it was reasonable to believe, make no
attempt to spirit away a whole company of men. And for future action as well
as to put an end to the superstitious terror of the soldiery, the vital necessity
was to clear up the mystery. He had no belief in the theory that these men
deserted. He knew them too well. He prided himself that he was thoroughly
acquainted with his own regiment, and had well-grounded reasons for pride in
his men For this reason he was the more chary of exposing a fourth brave
man where three had already been lost. However, it had to be done. The poor
fellow whose turn it was to take the post, though a soldier of proved courage
and even recklessness in action, positively shook from head to foot.

" I must do my duty, " he said to the colonel " I know that well enough ;
but for all that I should like to lose my life with a bit of credit "

There was no higher bravery than facing an indefinite terror such as this,
as the colonel was at pains to point out, but he added —

" I will leave no man here against his will."

Immediately a soldier stepped out of the ranks.

",Give me the post," he said quietly.

The colonel looked at the volunteer admiringly, and spoke some words in
praise of his courage.

" No," said the man ; I have an idea, that is all What I promise
you is that I will not be taken alive I shall give you a deal of trouble ;
because you will hear of me on the least alarm If I am given this post, I
propose to fire my piece if I hear the slightest noise If a bird chatters
or a leaf falls, my musket shall go off. Of course you may be alarmed

28 A CHANCE SMOT.

when nothing is the matter : but that's my condition, anu you must take the
chance."

"Take the chance !" said the colonel. "It's the very wisest thing you can
do You're a fellow of courage, and what's more, you're a fellow with a
head."

He shook hands with him, as did the rest of the soldiers, with faces full of
foreboding. " Come," said the man, " don't look so glum ; cheer up, and I
shall have a story to tell you when we meet again."

They left him and went back to the guard-room again. An hour passed
away in suspense. It seemed as though every ear in the regiment were on
the rack for the discharge of that musket. Hardly a man spoke, but as the
minutes dragged along the conviction gained ground that already the brave
man had followed the fate of the other three. The colonel paced up and down
in the guard-room, as anxious as any of the men. Ae looked at ^his watch
for the twentieth time. An hour and twenty minutes had gone.

Suddenly, down in the woods, the report of a musket rang out.

Colonel, officers, and men poured out of the guard-room, almost without
a word, and advanced at a double through the woods. The mystery was going
to be solved at last. Until quite close to the spot, they were forced, by the
thickness of the forest, to remain in ignorance of what had happened, and
whether their comrade was dead or alive. But they shouted, and an
answering " Halloa !" at last came back. As they turned into the glade where
the sentinel had been posted, they beheld him advancing towards them and
dragging another man along the ground by the hair of the head.

He flung the body down. It was an Indian, stone-dead, with a musket-
wound in his side

" How did it happen .>' " panted the colonel, beside himself with joy.

" Well," said the soldier, saluting, " I gave your honor notice that I should
fire if I heard the least noise That's what I did, and it saved my life ; and
it just happened in this way.

" I hadn't been long standing here, peering round till my eyes ached, when
I heard a rustling about fifty yards away. I looked and saw an American
hog, of the sort that are common enough in these parts, coming down the
glade opposite, crawling along the ground and sniffing to right and left — just
as if he'd no business in life but to sniff about for nuts under the fallen leaves
and all about the roots of the trees Boars are common enough, so I gave
him a glance and didn't take much notice for some minutes.

"But after awhile, thinks I to myself — 'No doubt the others kept their
eyes about them sharp enough, and was only took in by neglecting something
that seemed of no account ; ' so being on the alarm and having no idea wha^
was to be feared and what was not, I woke up after some minutes and deter-
mined to keep my eyes on it and watch how it passed in and out among the

A CHANCE SHOT. 29

trees. For I thought, if it comes on an Indian skulking about yonder, I may
be able to learn something from its movements. Indians are thick enough here
and to spare ; but they're not so thick as nuts, for all that.

" So I kept glancing at the hog, and then looking round and glancing again.
Not another creature was in sight ; not a leaf rustling. And then, all of a
sudden — I can't tell why — it struck me as queer that the animal was snuffling
around among the trees and making off to the right, seemingly for the thick
coppice just behind my post. I didn't want anything behind me, you may
be sure, not even a hog, and as it was now only a few yards from my coppice
I kept my eye more constantly on it, and cast up in my mind whether I
should fire or not

" It seemed foolish enough to rouse you all up by shooting a pig ! I fingered
my trigger, and couldn't for the life of me make up my mind what to do.
I looked and looked, and the more I looked the bigger fool I thought myself
for being alarmed at it. It would be a rare jest against me that I mistook a
pig for an Indian ; and this was a hog sure enough. You've all seen scores of
them, and know how they move. Well, this one was for all the world like any
other, and I was almost saying to myself that 'twas more like the average
hog than any hog I'd ever seen, when just as it got close to the thicket I
fancied it gave an unusual spring.

" At any rate, fancy or no, I didn't hesitate. I took cool aim, and directly
I did so, felt sure I was right. The beast stopped in a hesitating sort of way,
and by that I knew it saw what I was about, though up to the moment it had
never seemed to be noticing me. * An Indian's trick, for a sovereign,' thought
I, and pulled the trigger.

"It dropped over like a stone ; and then, as I stood there, still doubting if
it were a trap that I should fall into by running to look, I heard a groan —
and the groan of a man, too. I loaded my musket and ran up to it. I had
shot an Indian, sure enough, and that groan was his last.

He had wrapped himself in the hog's skin so completely, and his hands and
feet were so neatly hid, and he imitated the animal's walk and noise so cleverly,
that I swear, if you saw the trick played again, here before you, your honor
would doubt your honor's eyes. And seeing him at a distance, in the shadow
of the trees, no man who had not lost three comrades before him, as I had,
would ever have guessed. Here's the knife and tomahawk the villain had about
him. You see, once in the coppice he had only to watch his moment for
throwing off the skin and jumping on me from behind ; a dig in the back
before a man had time to fire his piece was easy work enough. After that
it's easier still to drag the body off and hide it under a heap of leaves. The
rebels pay these devils by the scalp, and no doubt if your honor looks about,
you'll find the collection our friend here has already made to-day."

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET {p. 32 )

II.

A RUN FROM A HORRIBLE DEATH.

John Glover, whom we will leave to tell his story, was kidnapped from his
home on the New River, Virginia, at the age of eight, by an Indian tribe
called the Miamecs, or Picts, and lived with them for six years. He was then
sold to a Delaware, and again transferred to a trader, of whom he was
purchased by the Shawanees With them he lived until his twentieth year,
when on the treaty of Fort Pitt he made himself known to some friends and
was induced with difficulty to give up his savage life. It was nine years after
this that the following adventure, the most thrilling in his varied life,
befel him.

" Having been a prisoner among the Indians many years, and so being Avell
acquainted with the country west of the Ohio, I was employed as a guide in
the expedition under Colonel William Crawford against the Indian towns on or
near the river Sandusky, in the year 1782. On Tuesday, the 4th of June, wc
fought the enemy near Sandusky, and lay that night in our camp The next
day we fired on each other at a distance of three hundred yards, doing little
or no execution.

" In the evening of that day it was proposed by Colonel Crawford, as I have
been since informed, to draw off with order ; but at the moment of our retreat,
the Indians — who had probably perceived that we were about to retire — firing
alarm-guns, our men broke and rode off in confusion, treading down those who
were on foot, and leaving the wounded men, who supplicated to be taken with
them. I was with some others in the rear of our troops, feeding our horses in
the glade, when our men began to break. The main body of our people had

RUNNING FROM DEATH. 31

passed by me a considerable distance before I was ready to set out. I overtook
them before I crossed the glade, and was advanced almost in front The
company of five or six men with whom I had been immediately connected, and
who were at some distance to the right of the main body, had separated from
me, and endeavored to pass a morass. Coming up, I found their horses had
stuck fast in it, and in endeavoring to pass, mine also, like theirs, became
a captive.

"I tried a long time to disengage my horse, until I could hear the enemy
just behind me and on each side, but in vain. Here, then, I was obliged to
leave him. The morass was so unstable that I was up to the middle in it,
and it was with the greatest difficulty I got across it. However, at length I
came up with the six men, who had left their horses in the same manner as I.
Two of them had lost their guns.

" We travelled that night, making our course towards Detroit, with a view
to shun the enemy, whom we conceived to have taken the paths by which the
main body of our people had retreated. Just before day we got into a second
deep morass, and were under the necestity of stopping until it w^as light to see
our way through it. The whole of this day we travelled towards the
Shawanees' towns, with a view of throwing ourselves still farther out of the
reach of the enemy.

"About ten o'clock we sat down to eat a little, having tasted nothing from
Tuesday, the day of our engagement, until this time, which was on Thursday ;
and now the only thing we had to eat was a scrap of pork for each.

" We had sat down by a warrior's path, w^hich we had not suspected, when
eight or nine Indians appeared. Running off hastily, we left our luggage and
provisions, but were not discovered by the party ; for, after skulking some time
in the grass and bushes, we returned to the place and recovered our baggage.
The warriors had hallooed as they passed, and were answered by others on our
flank.

" We set off at break of day. About nine o'clock on the third day, we fell
in with a party of the enemy, about 138 miles from Fort Pitt. They had come
upon our track, or had been on our flank and discovered us ; and then, having
got before, had waylaid us, and fired before we perceived them.

"At the first fire, one of my companions fell before me, and another just
behind me. These two had guns. There were six men in company, and four
guns : two of these had been rendered useless by the wet when coming through
the swamp the first night ; we had tried to discharge them, but could not.

" When the Indians fired, I ran to a tree : but an Indian presenting himself
fifteen yards before me, desired me to deliver myself up, adding that I should
not be hurt. My gun was in good order ; but apprehending the enemy might
discharge their pieces at me, I did not risk firing. This I had afterwards
reason to regret, when I found what was to be my fate, and that the Indian
who was before me was one of those who had just fired. Two of my companions

32 RUNNING FROM DEATH.

were taken with me in the same manner, the Indians assuring us we should
not be hurt. One of these Indians knew me, and was of the party by whom
I was taken in the last war. He came up and spoke to me, calling me by
my Indian name — Mannucothee, and upbraiding me for coming to war against
them,

" The party by whom we were made prisoners had taken some horses, but
left them at the glades we had passed the day before. From these glades they
had followed on our track. On our return, we found the horses, and each of
us rode. We were carried to a town of the Mingoes and Shawanees.

" I think it was the third day that we reached the town As we approached
t, the Indians, in whose custody we were, began to look sour, having been
kind to us before, and having given us a little meat and flour to eat, which
they had found or taken from some of our men on their retreat. The town
was small and, we were told, stood about two miles distant from the main town,
to which they meant to carry us. The inhabitants of this town came out with
clubs and tomahawks, and struck, beat, and abused us greatly. One of my
companions they seized, and having stripped him naked, blacked him with
coal and water. This was a sign that he must be burnt. The man seemed to
surmise it, and shed tears He asked me the meaning of being blacked, but I
was forbid by the enemy, in their own language, to tell him what was intended.
In English, which they spoke very easily, having bee's often at Fort Pitt, they
assured him he was not to be hurt. I knew of no reason for making him the
first object of their cruelty, unless it were that he was the oldest.

" A warrior must have gone on before to the larger town to acquaint them
with our coming and prepare them for the frolic ; for, on our coming to it, the
inhabitants came out with guns, clubs, and tomahawks. We were told we had
to run to the council-house, about three hundred yards. The man that was
black was about twenty yards before us in running the gauntlet. Him they
made their principal object ; men, women, and children beating him, and those
who had guns firing loads of powder on him, as he ran naked, putting the
muzzles of the guns to his body, shooting, hallooing, and beating their drums
in the meantime. The unhappy man had reached the door of the council-
house, beaten and wounded in a manner shocking to the sight ; for having
arrived before him, we had it in our power to view the spectacle. It was the
most horrid that can be conceived. They had cut him with their tomahawks,
shot his body black, burnt it into holes with loads of powder blown into him ;
a large wadding had made a hole in his shoulder, from whence the blood
gushed.

" Agreeably to the declaration of the enemy when he first set out, he had
reason to think himself secure when he had reached the door of the council-
house. This seemed to be his hope ; for coming up with great struggling and
endeavor, he laid hold on the door, but was pulled back and drawn away by
them Finding they intended no mercy but putting him to death, he attempted

RUNNING FROM DEATH. 33

several times to snatch or lay hold of some of their tomahawks ; but being very-
weak he could not effect it. We saw him borne off, and they were a long time
beating, wounding, pursuing, and killing him. That same evening I saw the
dead body of the man close by the council-house. It was mangled cruelly, and
the blood mingled with the powder, was rendered black. Later, I saw the
body cut to pieces, and his limbs and head, about two hundred yards on the
outside of the town, put on poles.

"That evening also, I saw the bodies of three others, in the same black
and mangled condition ; these, I was told, had been put to death the same day,
and just before we reached the town. Their bodies as they lay were black,
bloody, and burnt with powder. Two of these were Harrison and young
Crawford. I knew the visage of Colonel Harrison, and I saw his clothing and
that of young Crawford at the town. They brought horses to me, and asked
me if I ^knew them. I said they were Harrison's and Crawford's. They said
they were. The third of these men I did not know, but believe to have been
Colonel M'Clelland, the third in command on the expedition.

" The next day, the bodies of these men were dragged to the outside of the
town, and their carcases being given to the dogs, their limbs and heads were
stuck'on poles. My surviving^ companion, shortly after we had reached the
council-house, was sent to another town, and I presume he was burnt and
executed in the same manner.

"In the evening the men assembled in the council-house. This is a large
building about fifty yards in length, and about twenty-five yards wide. Its
height was about sixteen feet, the whole building being constructed of split
poles covered with bark. Their first object was to examine me, which they
could do in their own language, inasmuch as I could speak the Miamee,
Shawanee, and Delaware tongues, which I had learned during my early cap-
tivity in the last war. I found I had not forgotten these tongues, especially the
two former, being able to speak them as well as my native language.

" They began by interrogating me concerning the situation of our country ;
what were our provisions ; our numbers ; the state of the war between us and
Britain. I informed them that Cornwallis had been taken, which next day,
when Matthew Elliot, with James Girty, came, he affirmed to be a lie, and the
Indians seemed to give full credit to his declaration. Hitherto I had been
treated with some appearance of kindness, but now the enemy began to alter
their behavior towards me. However, I was not tied, and could have escaped ;
but having nothing to put on my feet, I waited some time to provide for this.
In the meantime, I was invited to the war-dances, which they usually con-
tinued till almost day ; but I could not comply with their desire, believing these
things to be the service of the devil.

"The council lasted fifteen days, from fifty to one hundred warriors being
usually in council, and sometimes more. Every warrior is admitted to these
councils, but only the chiefs, or head warriors, have the privilege of speaking.

'I STEPPED OVER THE WARRIORS AS THEY I,AY." (p. 36-)

RUNNING FROM DEATH. 35

The head warriors are accounted as such from the number of scalps they have
taken. There was one council at which I was not present. The warriors had
sent for me as usual, but the squaw with whom I lived would not suffer me to
go, but hid me under a large quantity of skins. It may have been from an
unwillingness that I should hear in council the determination respecting my-
self, that I should be burnt.

"About this time, twelve men were brought in from Kentucky, three of
whom were burnt on this day, the remainder distributed to other towns, and
all, as the Indians informed me, were burnt. On this day also I saw an Indian
who had just come into town, and he said that the prisoner he was bringing to
be burnt, and who was a doctor, had made his escape from him. I knew this
must have been Dr. Knight, who went out as surgeon to the expedition. The
Indian had a wound four inches long in his head that the doctor had given him.
He was cut to the skull.

" At this time I was told that Colonel Crawford was burnt, and they greatly
exulted over it. The day after the council I have mentioned, about forty
warriors, accompanied by George Girty, came early in the morning round the
house where I was. The squaw gave me up. I was sitting before the door of
the house ; they put a rope round my neck, tied my arms behind, stripped me
naked, and then blackened me in the usual manner. George Girty, as soon as
I was tied, cursed me, saying that now I should get what I had deserved many
years. I was led away to a town distant about five miles, to which a messenger
had been despatched, to desire them to prepare to receive me. Arriving at
this town I was beaten with clubs and the pipe ends of their tomahawks, and
was kept some time tied to a tree before a house-door. In the meanwhile, the
inhabitants set out to another town about two miles distant, where I was to be
burnt, and where I arrived about three o'clock in the afternoon.

" Here was also a council-house, part of it covered, and part of it with-
out roof. In the part of it where no cover was, but only sides built up, there
stood a post about sixteen feet in height, and in the middle of the house,
around the post, there were three piles of wood built about three feet from
the post.

" Being brought to the post, I had my arms tied behind me anew, and the
thong or cord with which they were bound was fastened to the post. A fresh
rope was put about my neck and also tied to the post about four feet above my
head During the time they were tying me, the piles were kindled and began
to flame. Death by burning, which now appeared to be my certain fate, I had
resolved to sustain with patience. The grace of God had made it less alarming
to me ; for on my way this day, I had been greatly exercised in regard to my
latter end.

" I was tied to the post as I have already said, and the flame was now
kindled. The day was clear, and not a cloud to be seen : if there were clouds
low in the horizon, the sides of the house prevented me from seeing them,

36 KUNNING FROM DEATH.

but I heard no thunder, nor observed any sign of approaching rain. Just as
the fire of one pile began to blaze, the wind rose. From the time when they
began to kindle the fire and to tie me to the post, until the wind began to blow,
about fifteen minutes had elapsed. The wind blew a hurricane, and the rain
followed in less than three minutes. The rain fell violently, and the fire,
though it began to blaze considerably, was instantly extinguished. The rain
lasted about a quarter of an hour.

" When the storm was over, the savages stood amazed, and were a long time
silent. At last one said, " We will let him alone till morning, and take a whole
day's frolic in burning him." The sun at this time was about three hours high.
The rope about my neck was now untied, and, making me sit down, they began
to dance around me. They continued dancing in this manner until eleven
o'clock at night, in the meantime beating, kicking, and wounding me with their
tomahawks and clubs.

"At last one of the warriors asked me if I was sleepy ; I answered 'Yes'
The warrior then chose out three men to take care of me. I was taken to a
block-house : my arms were tied, round my wrist, and above my elbows, so
tightly that the cord was hid in the flesh. A rope was fastened about my neck
and tied to the beam of the house, but permitting me to lie down on a board.
The three warriors were constantly harassing and troubling me, saying, ' How
will you like to eat fire to-morrow ? You kill no more Indians now.'

"I was in expectation of their going to sleep. When, at length, an hour
before daybreak, two of them lay down, the third smoked a pipe, talked to me,
and asked the same painful questions About half an hour after, he also lay
down, and I heard him begin to snore.

" Instantly I went to work ; and as my hands were perfectly dead with
the cord, I laid myself down upon my right arm, and, keeping it fast with my
fingers, I stripped the cord from my left arm over ray elbow and wrist.

" One of the warriors now got up and stirred the fire. I was apprehensive
that I should be examined, and thought it was over with me But my hopes
revived when he lay down again. I then attempted to unloose the rope about
my neck, and tried to gnaw it, but in vain, as it was as thick as my thumb
and as hard as iron, being made of buffalo-hide I wrought with it a long time
but finally gave it up, and could see no relief.

" At this time I saw daybreak. I made a second attempt, almost without
hope, pulling the rope by putting my fingers between my neck and it, and to
my great surprise it came easily untied. It was a noose with two or three
knots tied over it.

" I stepped over the warriors as they lay, and having got out of the house,
looked back to see if there was any disturbance. I then ran through the town
into a cornfield. In my way I saw a squaw with four or five children lying
asleep under a tree. Going a different way into a field I noticed my arm, which
was greatly swelled and burnt black. Having observed a number of horses in

RUNNING FROM DEATH. 37

the glade as I ran through it, I went back to catch one, and on my way found
a piece of an old rug or quilt hanging on a fence. This I took with me.

*' Having caught the horse, the rope with which I had been tied serving for
a halter, I rode off. The horse was strong and swift ; and the woods being
open and the country level, about ten o'clock that day I crossed the Sciota
river at a place about fifty miles from the town. I had ridden about twenty
miles on this side Sciota by three o'clock in the afternoon, when the horse
began to fail and could no longer go on a trot. I instantly left him and ran
on foot about twenty miles further that day, making in the whole the distance
of near one hundred miles. In the evening I heard hallooing behind me,
and for this reason did not halt till about ten o'clock at night, when I sat down,
was extremely sick, and vomited. But when the moon rose, which might have
been about two hours after, I then went on my way, and travelled till dayh^ht.

"During the night I had a path, but in the morning I judged it prucent
to forsake the path and to take a ridge for the distance of fifteen miles, in a
line at right angles to my course, putting back with a stick as I went along
the weeds which I had bent, lest I should be tracked by the enemy. I lay
the next night on the waters of the Muskingum. The nettles had been trouble-
some to me after my crossing the Sciota, as I had nothing to defend myself
but the piece of rug which I had found, and which while I rode I used
under me by way of a saddle The briars and thorns were now painful too,
and prevented me from travelling in the night until the moon appeared. In
the meantime, I was hindered Irom sleeping by the mosquitoes : even in the
day I was under the necessity of travelling with a handful of bushes to brush
them from my body.

"The second night I reached Cushakim. Next day I came to Newcomer's
Town, where I got about seven raspberries, which were the first thing I ate
from the morning in which the Indians had taken me to burn until this time,
which was now about three o'clock on the fourth day. I felt hunger very
little, but was extremely weak. I swam Muskingum river at Old Cromer's
Town, the river being about two miles wide. Having reached the bank I sat
down, and, looking back, thought I had a good start of the Indians, should
any pursue.

" That evening I travelled about five miles, and the next day came to Still-
water, a small river, in a branch of which I got two small cray-fish to eat.
Next night I lay down within five miles of Wheeling, but had not a wink
during the whole time, it being rendered impossible by the mosquitoes, which
it was my constant employment to brush away. Next day I came to Wheel-
ing, and saw a man on the island in the Ohio, opposite to that post, and, call-
ing to him, inquired for particular persons who had been in the expedition, and
told him I was Glover. At length, with great diffieulty, he was persuaded to
come over and bring me across in his canoe. Then was I safe."

'■.^yy ■ '*-7 ^^ ^ ^ X

^^-'

'. , ^^'i-f^ ■<■,

VENICK FROM THE RIVA DEGLI SCHIAVONI.
o, Ducal Palace ; 6, State Prison.

THE PRISON-BREAKER.

Venice, 1755

ASANOVA, or, as he preferred to style himself in full, John James
Casanova de Seingalt, student of the University of Padua, citizen
of Venice, wit, gambler, libertine, scholar, unbeliever, and fop,
was sleeping soundly in the early morning of July 25th, 1755,
when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and he awoke to find the chief of the
Venetian police standing at his bedside.

'• To what am I indebted for this honour ? " he asked, sitting up and rubbing
his eyes.

" To the fact," answered the officer, " that you are arrested by order of the
Tribunal of State Inquisitors. You will therefore immediately dress and follow
me, in the mean time handing over your keys and putting me in possession of
your books and papers."

"Certainly," said Casanova "I regret that my dressing usually takes a

considerable time, but if you do not mind waiting "

The officer bowed. *' My time is yours," he said, " if only you are reason-
ably quick."

Casanova called his valet, had his hair carefully dressed, and put on a silken

THE PRISON-BREAKER. 39

suit, as though bound for a ball rather than a prison. In the meanwhile, the
officer rummaged about the room, collected books — including many volumes of
the cabalistic writers — manuscripts, love-letters, and papers scribbled with verse,
while his involuntary host from time to time regarded his assiduity with a
gentle smile and inquired how he proceeded.

" I am quite ready now," said Casanova, at the end of an hour.

The police officer contemplated him grimly, and said, " I should have advised
a more serviceable suit of clothes. But since you are ready, come."

They quitted the chamber together. Outside his door, Casanova was as-
tonished to find no less than thirty policemen in waiting for him.

" You march at the head of an army," he observed.

The officer dismissed all but four of his attendants, who stepped with
Casanova into a gondolo that lay waiting, and proceeded with their prisoner to
the chiefs house. Here Casanova was kept four hours under lock and key. At
the end of this time the key turned, and the police officer again entered
the room.

"Where next.?

" To the Camerotti."

Casanova knew the Camerotti well enough by reputation. They were cells
in the State Prison that faces the Ducal Palace and is connected with it
by the Bridge of Sighs, that covered way over a narrow canal that has been
more painted and sung and written about, probably, than any other building
on earth. The cells in question were also known by the name of / Ploinbi,
from their position immediately under leaden roof of the prison ; and their
suffocating heat in summer-time was a by-word.

Casanova was led across the Bridge of Sighs, and presented, at the prison
door, to the Secretary of the Inquisition, who looked at him casually for a
moment, and said —

"It is he. Secure him carefully."

Without more to-do, the prisoner was marched upstairs, and found himself
at length in a squalid garret, about six yards long by two in breadth, and
lighted only through a skylight. " Surely," thought Casanova to himself, " they
do not intend to confine a man of my quality in such a den as this " They
did not ; he was not to get off so leniently. While he was looking about, the
goaler applied a large key to a small door in the wall, massively bound with
iron, and having a grating some eight inches square in its centre.

" What is that .**" asked Casanova, as the man was fumbling with the lock.
The fellow turned, and seeing Casanova's gaze fastened on the one piece of
furniture in the garret, laughed as at an excellent joke and explained —

" That ? Well, it's a machine. I advise you to be content and pray that
you make no nearer acquaintance with it, signor."

"A machine of torture, then.''"

" More strictly, of death. It garottes — strangles, you understand — those whose

40 THE PRISON-BREAKER.

souls, in their wisdom, the Inquisitors determine must be saved by harsher
measures only. But come, here is your room."

The small door in the wall was flung open, and Casanova passed through.
To do so he was forced to bend double, for the entrance was but three feet
and a half in height. He was looking about when he heard the door slammed
behind him. His gaoler had left him. A voice through the grating asked what
he would have to eat. Casanova was beginning to lose his appetite, and had
lost his temper some time ago, so he answered sullenly that he had not yet
.thought about what he would have. The question was not repeated. He was
left to himself, listening to the footsteps as they died away in the distance,
and the sound of door after door as the gaoler locked them between him and
liberty.

But the prisoner was not a man to be easily overwhelmed, and so in a few
moments he recovered, and began to examine his cell. It was so low that he
was forced to stoop as he groped about. There was neither bed, table, nor
chair : nothing but a shelf, on which he laid his plumed hat and rich mantle.
As for light, there was little or none, for the tiny aperture in the roof through
which it should have come was crossed with bars of thick iron, and darkened
by a heavy beam, to boot.

The heat was insupportable. It drove him to the grating for a breath of
air He peered through, and saw in the garret beyond whole droves of
rats " as large as rabbits," with twinkling eyes, running to and fro and even
coming quite close to the door. He shuddered : rats were his special aversion,
and apparently they were to be his only companions. Hour after hour dragged
away, as he leant there panting for air, and no one came near him He grew
hungry, and soon, as the full horror of his plight broke on him, burst into a
frenzy. He howled, cursed, and flung himself against the door, beating it with
his fists. He prayed and screamed to be taken before his accusers. It was no
good. He only frightened the rats, and so, as night drew on, he bound a
handkerchief round his head and flinging himself on the floor, dropped asleep.

He had slept for three hours when the tolling of the midnight bell awoke him.
He stretched out for his handkerchief, and then sat upright with a shudder. His
hand had encountered another, stiff, and cold as ice.

For a moment or two fear held him like palsy. He could not move,
could hardly even think : then, with trembling, he put out his hand again
Still the frozen fingers were there. Could they have put a corpse beside him
while he slept .-' A third time he felt, and this time, moving his left arm, he
discovered that he had been touching his own hand, which had grown stiff and
cold by his having lain on it in his sleep. But Casanova could not see the
laughable side of his discovery. It rather seemed to him that his mind was
giving way, that truth was becoming a dream to him, and these illusions were
to torment the rest of his life until he should go raving mad.

Daylight, such as it was, brought more courage. He would certainly be

THE PRISON-BREAKER. 41

liberated presently, or at least brought to trial And the morning was not far
spent when the goaler appeared and asked him if he had yet had time enough
to decide upon what to eat. Casanova Ordered a liberal supply of food. " You
had better order a bed and some furniture," said the man, " while you are
about it. For if you fancy you will be here only one night, you are vastly
mistaken "

He handed a pencil and paper to the prisoner who gave him a list of what
he wanted " Read it over to me," said the goaler. Casanova did so. " Books,
ink, paper, razors, and looking-glass ! You'll have none of these. They are
against orders. And as for the rest, you'll have to pay for them. Casanova
found three sequins in his pocket and gave them over. The gaoler retired.

At noon the food and furniture came. He was then informed that the
Secretary would send him books more fitting than those mentioned on the list.
" Convey my thanks to the Secretary," said Casanova, " for this and also for
havmg given me a room to myself: for I detest low company." The keeper
laughed. " You'll be glad enough of the lowest company before long," he said,
as he went away.

Casanova pulled his table over to the grating for the sake of the gleam of
light that filtered in from the garret, and'sat down to his meal. To eat it, he
had but an ivory spoon. But he found he had a little appetite, and could not
manage more than a mouthful of soup. He went back to his armchair and
passed the time waiting feverishly for the promised books. They did not come.
The day wore to night, and again he slept but little. Out in the garret the
rats were scampering ceaselessly, and the huge clock in St. Mark's Tower, close
by, kept him awake with its vibrating noise. In addition he was tortured with
the fleas, which almost gave him convulsions. Again the gaoler appeared in the
early morning with breakfast, ordered the cell to be swept out, and produced
two large volumes which the Secretary had sent. Casanova examined them
eagerly. One was entitled "The Mystic City of God : by Maria of Jesus, called
Agreda ; " the other was a work written by a Jesuit, and designed to teach a
peculiar veneration for the heart of the Saviour. Casanova, whose taste for
theology was of the faintest, tried for a whole week to read the former of these
two volumes, and then abandoned it for fear that his mind would give way. It
was the wild rhapsody of a young woman whose brain had evidently been turned
by ascetism and the seeing of visions, and " such a work," says Casanova, "can
upset a man's reason if, as I was, he be shut up in the Carmerotti and depressed
by melancholy and bad food."

In nine days his store of money was exhausted ; and when the gaoler, Lorenzo.
asked to whom he should apply for more, he was answered "To nobody."
Lorenzo, who made a small fortune out of the prisoners in his care, went away
greatly depressed, but returned the next morning to announce that the
Tribunal would allow fifteen shillings a week for Casanova's maintenance. This
fifteen shillings he proposed to lay out to the best advantage for the prisoner,

4*

THE PRISON-BREAKER.

keep an account, and return the balance, if any, at the end of a week. Casanova
assented. The allowance was ample enough, for the unhappy man had lost all
his appetite. The heat of the dog-days beating on the leaden roof above made
his cell a fiery furnace. All day he sat naked with perspiration streaming
from him ; next he caught the fever and kept to his bed. Lorenzo, afraid ot
losing a prisoner who paid him well, went at the end of three days for a
doctor. "You will be amazed," he told Casanova, " at the generosity of the
Tribunal. Why, you are to

have a doctor and medicines T" n • .■ s .n<* ^--^ :Si^Wll:tMYff^

without its costing you a

penny

I

The doctor came, but Casa-
nova stoutly swore that as long
as Lorenzo remained in the
cell he would not open his
lips. " I will have no wit-
nesses," he said. The gaoler,
angry at first, was at length
induced to retire. Said the
physician, "If you wish to re-
cover you must banish your
melancholy." "Very well,"
was the reply. " Quick ;
write a prescription, and take
it to the only apothecary who
can prepare the dose ! Signor
Cavalli, Secretary to the
Tribunal, is the fatal doctor,
who brought me to this by
prescribing 'The Heart of
Jesus ' and ' The Mystic City. "

The doctor lent his patient

, , T-. , 1 • » i J J J PRESENTED lO THE SECRETARY ( / 30 )

"Bocthms to read, and made ^^ ^^ '

the Secretary promise some healthier books, and Casanova's health rapidly

improved.

Another favour was granted him about this time — he was allowed to walk
in the garret whilst his cell was being cleaned. It was for eight or ten minutes
only, but he enjoyed it, and took care to reward the gaoler, in hopes of inducing
him to confer more favours. When Lorenzo, on the day this permission was
granted, came to settle the accounts, there remained a balance of some of five-
and-twenty shillings. Casanova gave it to him, telling him to get some masses
for it. " He thanked me as if he were the priest who was to say them. Every
month I repeated the gift, but never saw the receipt from any priest."

THE PRISON-BREAKER 43

The prisoner still cheated himself with hopes that the day of his liberation
was at hand, but these hopes slowly resolved themselves into despair. For
some time he calculated that October ist would he his day of freedom, as on
that day a new set of State Inquisitors came into office When it passed and
brought no change to his wretched life, for a whole week he raved about his
cell. A month after — on the 1st of November — he was gazing up at the heavy
beam that crossed the skylight, when he suddenly saw the timber bend and
shake. At the same time a tremor ran through the building, and he himself
lost his balance and fell on the floor. He knew the shock — it was an earth-
quake. In a few moments it was repeated. Regardless of his own danger, he
prayed aloud, "Another ! another, great God ! but stronger ! "

It was the same earthquake that shook Lisbon in ruins But it brought no
relief to Casanova. He had made up his mind by this time that his imprison-
ment was to last for life, and now bent all his mind on devising some means
of escape For some time the monotony of his life was varied by his having a
companion in misery. The new-comer was a youth named Maggiorino, who had
been servant in the household of a count, and was sent to prison because he
had fallen in love with the count's daughter. Casanova lent him his mattress
for the first night, and in the morning Lorenzo came and announced that a
small sum had been granted for the new prisoner's support. Casanova told him
to keep the money, adding that he himself would share provisions with
Maggiorino. Overcome with with this generosity, Lorenzo granted the donor
leave to walk for an hour every day in the corridor of the prison.

Maggiorino soon left Casanova alone again. The poor youth, who was madly
in love, was transported to another part of the prison, to a windowless dungeon
where an oil-lamp supplied all the light that was to be had. Here he remained
five years, and was then banished for ten more.

In a few days, however, Casanova had another companion. This time it was
a shabby, stooping, cadaverous creature, of about fifty, with a peculiarly malig-
nant face. On the first day the stranger fed at Casanova's expense ; on the
second, when Lorenzo asked him for money, he declared he had not a shilling.
"Oh, very well," said the gaoler, "you shall have a pound and a half of ship's
biscuit, then, and some very good water." After the gaoler had gone, Casanovo
said, " It was imprudent of you to bring no money," " I have plenty of money,
but there's no need to let these harpies know it." He was an usurer who had
been entrusted with a large sum by a certain nobleman, and had attempted to
deny the deposit. The matter had come to a trial, with the result that the
usurer was cast, and was to be held in prison until he had made restitution
and paid the costs. After spending four days in prison he was sent for by the
Secretary, and in his haste slipped on Casanova's shoes instead of his own. In
half an hour's time he returned, looking extremely downcast, took two heavy
purses out of his own shoes, and returned. Casanova saw him no more;
apparently the Secretary had been too much for the usurer.

44 THE PRISON-BREAKER.

On the 1st of January, 1756, Casanova received from a former patron, one
Bragadino, a New Year's gift of a beautiful dressing-gown lined with fox-fur, a
silken coverlet quilted with wool, and a bearskin bag to put his feet in. For
his cell in winter was as cold as in summer it was stifling. The patron added
an allowance of six sequins a month to enable Casanova to purchase books and
papers. So overcome was the unhappy prisoner with this news that, as he says,
" in the fulness of my heart I pardoned my oppressors; indeed, I was very
nearly led to abandon all thoughts of escaping, so pliant is man after suffering
has bent and abased him."

It may easily be imagined, however, that with Casanova this feeling soon
passed. He now bent his thoughts earnestly on escaping By leading his gaoler
to converse, he discovered some details in the construction of the prison that
he afterwards turned to account. But his main hope lay in the daily walk of
half an hour now allowed him in the corridor. In his walks he had discovered
two old chests lying in a corner, together with a heap of lumber. One of these
chests was locked. The other he found to contain feathers, paper and string,
and a slab of what at first he thought to be black marble. It was a smooth
piece of stone about six inches long, three inches wide, and an inch thick.
Almost without considering what use might be made of this, he slipped it into
his pocket, and, on returning to his cell, hid it beneath his shirts.

Some time after, when walking, he found his attention caught by an iron
bolt, as thick as his thumb, lying amid the lumber. It struck him that this
might be converted into a weapon of some kind. This also he concealed in his
cell ; and on discovering the supposed slab of marble, found to his joy that it
was a whetstone.

Still without definite aim in what he did, and partly to beguile his dul-
ness, Casanova now set to work to point the bolt. It was weary work, but
he toiled for two weeks, moistening the whetstone with his spittle, and rubbing
until his left hand became one large blister. At the end of this time, however,
he had turned his bolt into an excellent stiletto, and felt that something was
done, at any rate. He hid the weapon in the straw of his arm-chair, and set
to work to think on his next step.

For five days he considered, and then decided that his one chance was to
break through the floor of his cell The State cells — one of which he occupied
— were in the roof and covered with heavy leaden plates. Casanova's, with two
others, was on the western side of the prison. The sole exit was through the
prison gate, the Bridge of Sighs, and the Ducal Palace, and the key was kept
by the Secretary, to whom it was handed by the gaoler when his daily attendance
on the prisoners was over.

Casanova had found out from Lorenzo that the Secretary's room was under-
neath his cell, and also that it was open every morning. His plan, as far as
he had formed one, was to dig a hole in the floor, descend into the Secretary's
room by a rope made out of his bedclothes, hide under the table, and watch

THE PRISON-BREAKER.

45

his opportunity to break cover. But then, of course, he might meet with a
sentinel before he could gain the prison gate with the Secretary's key ; if so, he
would kill that sentinel with his dagger.

Thus far his plans were matured ; yet he could not even begin his work,
for so bitter was the cold that directly he grasped the iron his hands froze to
it. Moreover, for nineteen hours out of the twenty-four he was in utter dark-
ness, for the fogs were so thick and the skylight so obscured that even by day-

"HE HEARD THE TRAMP OF FOOTSTKPS " (/ 47 )

light he could hardly see to the other end of his cell. But at length a thought
struck him — he would contrive to manufacture a lamp to work by. He had
neither the lamp itself nor the accessories — wick, oil, flint, or tinder — but by
degrees he contrived to possess himself of all. He managed to conceal in his
bedding an earthen pipkin that was brought one day with his meals, the oil he
saved from his salad, the wick was manufactured from cotton which he took
out of his bed, and a buckle in his belt he used as a steel. He still wanted a
flint and tinder ; but these also he obtained by the following strategems. By
pretending to have the tooth-ache he induced Lorenzo to give him a piece of
flint to be steeped in vinegar and applied to his tooth. At the same time he
obtained a small quantity of sulphur as liniment for an acute irritation of the
skin which he feigned. Tinder only remained to seek. After racking his
brains for three days, he at last bethought him that he had ordered his tailor
to pad his silk waistcoat under the armpits with sponge, to prevent stains. His

46 THE PRISON BREAKER.

heart beat as he looked at his clothes, for the tailor might have neglected his
orders. He paused for minute after minute between hope and fear, and it was
not without a prayer that he at last felt under the armholes ol the vest : the
sponge was there. He poured the oil into the pipkin, set the wick in, and the
lamp was ready. Henceforward he no longer dreaded the approach of night.

He resolved to begin his labours on the first Monday in Lent But here
another obstacle occurred. He had always been eagerly anxious to have his
room swept, to keep within reasonable bounds the numbers of vermin that
tortured him. But if his room was swept every day, how could he hope to
remain undetected in his operations on the floor ? He therefore desired that
they would no longer sweep out his cell. For a week Lorenzo fell in with
this wish ; but at length, perhaps from a vague suspicion that something wrong
was going forward, he had the room cleaned and the bed moved, and even
brought in a light, on the pretence of seeing that the work had been thoroughly
done.

But in Casanova he was overmatched. Next morning the prisoner was ill in
bed, coughing as though his last hour were at hand, and declaring that the
chill had caused him to break a blood vessel in the night. For proof he held
out a handkerchief, which was indeed stained with blood — for Casanova had
cut his thumb for that purpose. " See," he cried, " how I have bled ! Please
send for a doctor at once ! ''

The doctor was sent for, heard Casanova's complaint, and declared it just.
Henceforward his room was left unscrubbed.

And now Casanova set to work. He pulled his bed out of its alcove, lit his
lamp, and commenced upon the boards with his dagger. They were sixteen
inches in breadth, and he began to bore at the seam where two of them joined.
At first the chips he dug out were no bigger than grains of wheat, but as he
got forward with his work they increased in size. He worked for six hours
at a stretch, gathered all the splinters together in a handkerchief, and flung
them behind the lumber in the corridor when he took his daily walk.

He bored through the plank and found another of equal thickness ; and a
third again below that. These three boards took him three weeks. But when
he had worked through them a still more stubborn obstacle was to be over-
come— a sort of mosaic pavement of marble, on which his stiletto could
make no impression. He remembered, however, Livy's story of Hannibal,
and how he had softened the rocks of the Alps by vinegar. He moistened,
therefore, the mortar of the mosaic with the vinegar which had been given
him, and at the end of four days was able, to his satisfaction, to work with
comparative ease on this pavement. After this came another plank, and this
was the worst of all to cut through, for by this time the hole was ten inches
deep, and it was only with great difficulty that he could use his dagger.

It was June by this time, and almost a year since his incarceration, when
one day as he lay flat on the ground, digging, with perspiration streaming

THE PRISON-BREAKER. 47

down his naked body, he was startled to hear the tramp of footsteps and
the rattling of bolts in the distance. He had only just time to blow out his
lamp, and push the bed back in its place, before Lorenzo entered. He brought
a new prisoner, who said as he entered, " Where am I ^ Where am I to be
shut up, and with whom ? What a heat, and what a smell ! " At the sound
of his voice Casanova started. The new-comer was an old friend oi his, a
Count Fanarola, a pleasant and honorable gentleman who had been committed
for some remarks he had uttered against the Tribunal. Delighted to have
such a companion, Casanova for some days almost forgot his project of escape ;
but Fanarola was soon liberated, and the work began again.

He now found that the room underneath was indeed the Secretary's, but
also discovered that his hole had been made just over an immense cross-beam,
so that he was obliged to work away towards one side Meanwhile he stopped
up with bread the puncture he had made in the Secretary's ceiling, that the
light of his lamp might not be observed.

On August the 23rd, 1756, all was ready, but he resolved to postpone his
attempt to break through until the 27th, on which day — St Augustine's Day —
the grand council would meet, so that the ante-room next the chamber, through
which he must pass, would be left empty.

It was an ill-fated piece of prudence. "On August 25th," he says, "an
event happened which even to this day makes me shudder when I recall it.
I heard the bolts drawn. A fear like death took hold of me ; my heart beat
so that my body shook with it, and almost in a swoon I dropped into my
arm-chair. Lorenzo, while yet in the garret, called through the grating to me
in a joyful tone, ' I wish you joy of the news I bring you .'"

" I fancied that he brought me news of freedom, and felt myself lost. The
hole in the floor would shut me off from liberty. In came Lorenzo and bade
me follow him. I was dressing myself, but he declared it unnecessary,
saying he was only going to transport me from my present hateful cell to
another, new and well lit, with two windows whence I could overlook Venice,
and stand upright to boot. I was nearly mad. I asked for vinegar, and bade
him thank the Secretary, but beg him to leave me where I was. Lorenzo
said, ' Are you mad, that you will not change Hell for Paradise .'' ' and giving
me his arm, issued order that my books, bed, &c., should be brought after. I
saw it was in vain to oppose further. I rose and left my cage, and with some
small joy heard him order my chair should be carried with me : my stiletto
was hidden in its straw If it had been possible that my labour on the floor
could have gone with me also !

"Leaning on Lorenzo's shoulder, while he tried by jesting to make me
joyful, I passed two long corridors, over three steps into a spacious and well-lit
hall, and then through a door at the left end of it into a corridor some twelve
feet long by ten broad. There were two windows here which gave me a wide
view of the city, but I could not rejoice as I looked. The door of my new cell

48 THE PRISON-BREAKER.

was in the corner of this corridor, and its grating faced one of the windows in
the passage, so that one imprisoned there could not only enjoy the view, but
even breathe the fresh air that came through the open window — a healing balm
to any mortal at this time of year ; but, as the reader may imagine, I did not
think of this at the time. Lorenzo left me and my chair, into which I flung
myself, and said he was going for my bed."

Casanova sat for some time in this arm-chair completely overwhelmed by the
blow. It seemed to him that with the discovery of his attempted escape the
severest of punishments would be dealt out to him. He had heard oi tlie ivells
— those silent dungeons where, beneath the waters of the lagoons, the most
hopeless of the Venetian prisoners dragged out their days — and he was thinking
of this as his probable fate when the door was flung violently open and
Lorenzo rushed into the room.

He was purple with passion, and rolled out torrent on torrent of blasphemous
oaths. " Give me the axe ! Give me the axe," he cried, " with which you have
been working ! Who made it — who gave it to you .'' Tell me his name ! I'll

have you searched ; I'll "

But here Casanova's old spirit returned. He calmly said —
*' Dear me ! what is all this ? Search by all means, if you will."
Prisoner, bed, and mattress were searched, and searched in vain. Luckily
the arm-chair was not explored.

" So you won't tell me ! " screamed Lorenzo. " I'll see if others cannot make
you confess."

" My good Lorenzo," answered Casanova, '* pray consider. Speak a word,
and I shall say that you yourself supplied me with the tools, and that you
yourself have received them back from me."

This was too much. Lorenzo howled, stamped, ran his head against the
wall, capered like a maniac, cursed until the cell echoed again, and dashed
away. When he returned Casanova's threat had had its effect. The goaler
secretly filled up the hole, and was very careful to breathe no word about it to
his masters.

He was vindictive, however. He closed all the windows and made the heat
of the place intolerable, he brought bad food, stinking water, and hard bread in
place of the usual diet, and in a hundred ways made his prisoner's life a
burden. For a week Casanova perspired and suffered in silence. Then he said
to Lorenzo —

" My good friend, when I get my liberty I shall assuredly throttle you.
Meanwhile, about that money .-' "

The gaoler again gave in ; but not before Casanova had, in the presence of
the sub-gaolers, demanded his account and accused him of cheating. After that
he seized the first opportunity to make his peace It happened that the patron
Bragadino had sent Casanova a basket of lemons and a chicken ; Lorenzo added
a bottle of good water and brought the whole to the prisoner, at the same time

THE PRISON-BREAKER.

49

ordering the windows of his cell to be opened. Casanova was appeased, told
him to divide a sequin among his underlings, and make a present to his wife
of the rest of the balance.

" But," said Lorenzo, when they were alone, " you say I gave you the tools
with which you made that hole in the floor. Well, I am not curious to know
about that. But who gave you the lamp ? " " Why you did," was the answer ;
*' you gave me oil, flint, and sulphur." " Very true ; can you prove as easily
that I helped you to break through the floor.-'" " Just as easily ; I obtained
everything from you. I will confess all, but only in the presence of the Secre-
tary." "No, no. I will inquire no further, but take your word Be silent, I
entreat you, and remember that I am a poor man with a family." Lorenzo left
the cell, holding his hands to his face.

All the same, Casanova was for the future carefully watched, and every day
the sub-goaler searched the walls and the floor of his prison with an iron bar.
But Casanova laughed at these precutions. He had a new plan. This time he
would open communications with the prisoner above, whom he would furnish
with his dagger. The hole should be made in the ceiling of his cell, and he
would ascend into the upper cell and then break out by way of the roof.

Of all mad schemes this seems at first blush the maddest. For even suppose
the prisoners to have ascended to the roof, the chances of their recapture were
still enormous. And how was the initial step to be taken — that of com-
municating with his fellow prisoner } As luck would have it, Lorenzo himself
set the scheme in motion.

The gaoler, who, according to Casanova, •' would have sold St. Mark himself
Vor a dollar," was always inclined to take it ill that his prisoner's money should
pass into any pocket but his own. One day Casanova desired him to procure
the works of Maffei. '* Dear me ! " was the answer ; " you spend a deal of money
on books. Why not borrow sometimes from the man above your head ? He,
too, reads a great deal, and no doubt your tastes have something in common."
" The very thing," said Casanova. " Why did you not suggest it before ? "

Next day a volume of Wolff's writings was brought from upstairs. On
turning over the leaves, Casanova found a loose sheet of paper among them,
containing a paraphrase in verse of a sentence of Seneca. Casanova shaped the
nail of his little finger into a sort of pen, and with some mulberry-juice con-
trived to write some verses and a catalogue of his books on the last leaf of
the tome.

With the next volume came an answer. The writer stated that he was a
monk, Marino Baldi by name, and of good family ; that he had a fellow
prisoner, one Count Andreas Asquino, of Udino, and that together they begged
to make Casanova welcome to borrow any of their books. In reply Casanova
sent an account of himself and his sufferings; and with the next book came
a long letter, and also, at the back of the binding, paper, pen, and pencil which
the two prisoners had become possessed of by bribing the sub-gaoler.

50 THE PRISON-BREAKER.

The sub-gaoler had also told the prisoners of Casanova's attempted escape,
and they were eager to know if he had any further plans. Casanova hesitated,
but finally resolved that the monk must be trusted. He put his scheme in
writing and sent it with the next volume. The monk made some objections
which were overruled, and Balbi undertook to bore through the floor if Casanova
could only manage to send up the stiletto.

How was this to be done .-' At length a plan was hit upon. Lorenzo was
directed to buy a large folio volume of a certain work, in the back of which
Casanova thought he could conceal the weapon. To his chagrin, the dagger
turned out to be two inches longer than the volume. But Casanova was equal
to this. He told Lorenzo that he desired to celebrate Michaelmas Day by
making a present to the prisoner who had lent him the books, of a plate of
macaroni, dressed with butter and Parmesan. Lorenzo answered that the
prisoner wished to borrow the great volume that had just been procured.
"Very well," said Casanova, "I will send the two presents together. Get me
the largest dish you can procure I will myself prepare the macaroni, and you
can carry it up."

While Lorenzo was going for the dish, Casanova wrapped up his stiletto in
paper and stuck it behind the binding of the folio. He was sure that if he
put the large dish on top of the book, Lorenzo would be so occupied in carrying
it safely that he would never spy the end of the steel projecting. He had
told Balbi of this, and charged him to be careful to take both dish and book
together out of the gaoler's hands. Lorenzo brought in a great pan and Casa-
nova poured the stuff out into it until it swam to the brim. He thefi set the
dish on the volume and gave the two to Lorenzo, saying, " Stretch out your
arms well and go carefully, or the butter will run over the book." '* I observed
him steadily," says the prisoner. " His eyes were riveted on the butter, which
he feared to spill. He suggested that it would be better to take the dish first
and then come back for the book. I told him that by doing so he would
rob my present of half its value. 'Very \\ ell,' he said, 'please yourself, only
it won't be my fault if the butter runs over.' I followed him with my eyes
and then heard him go cautiously upstairs ; and presently Balbi coughed three
times, which was the signal that all was well."

Balbi now began the work of digging. He was young and strong, and
though he did not work with the same restless energy that Casanova had dis-
played, he had, by the middle of October, progressed so far that only one plank
remained to be cut through. He would then have to push in the ceiling, and
this, of course, was to be left to the last moment. But once more, and when
Casanova was already beginning to exult, an obstacle arose. He heard the
outer doors opening, and had only just time to make the signal to Balbi to stop
working when Lorenzo brought in a companion — a small, shrivelled man, wear-
ing a threadbare suit and a black wig, "He is a great scoundrel, I'm afraid,''
said Lorenzo, " I'm afraid he looks it," answered Casanova. The gaoler ordered

THE PRISON-BREAKER.

5»

a mattress to be brought, and informing the new-comer that tenpence a day
was allowed for his maintenance, took his leave.

The new comrade's name was Sorodaci. He was a low informer, and-o/ic 'of
the worst scoundrels in Venice ; and found himself in prison fo- naving given
false evidence to the Tribunal. Luckily, he was incredibly • superstitious, and
Casanova worked upon his failing. He could not out off his attempt, which was

"'I OBSERVED HIM STEADILY*" ( /). 50 )

fixed for the last night in October, as on November ist the Secretary would be
absent from the prison and paying his annual visit to the villages round Venice,
and Lorenzo ussually took advantage of this absence to make merry with his
friends — to such an extent, indeed, that he never rose until late on the following
morning, and the prisoners had to wait for their breakfasts in consequence.

Casanova actually persuaded the unhappy Sorodaci that the Holy Virgin
was about to send an angel for his release. "I shall mount through the ceiling,"
said he, " and you will see me no more ; it will come, this succour, in about

52 . THE PRISON-BREAKER.

five days' time." The gross idiot at last implicitly believed that this miracle
would be worked When on the evening of the 31st the plaster gave way
and the. monk Balbi descended into their cell, he knelt and jabbered prayer after
prayer, until Tasanova had much ado to refrain from riotous laughter.

There was no cme to be lost, however ; so taking the stiletto from Balbi,
Casanova climbed into the upper cell to look about. At the first glance he
saw that the other prisoner, Count Asquino, was too old and feeble to attempt
to share in the enterprise. He was seventy years of age, and frankly owned he
had not the nerve to attempt to escape. " I have no wings," he said, *' with
which to descend from the roof, but will remain and pray for you who have
more strength and fewer fears."

On trying the roof, Casanova found it break away so easily that an hour
would suffice for making the necessary opening. He returned to his own cell,
cut up the sheets, napkins, and shirts to make a stout rope, firmly tied, and a
hundred feet in length, and then dressed himself for the escape. He and the
monk then re-ascended, and, whilst Balbi packed, Casanova attacked the roof.

At length he was able to thrust his head through the hole, and saw
to his dismay that the moon was high and clear, and would prevent the
attempt till a later hour, when St. Mark's Place below was empty. As it was, if
any in the crowd looked up, they could not fail to be observed moving about
the roof. The count lent them two sequins, which was all the money they
had : and after the moon had gone down, the two climbed up together and
out on the leads. The spy refused to accompany them : his courage failed him,
and Casanova with great readiness left him behind.

The further history of this enterprise shall be told in Casanova's own words :

"I hung the bundle of cord on Balbi's shoulder, flung his parcel over the
other, and having loaded myself, led the way. Most of my clothes I carried in
my parcel, but wore my hat on my head. I climbed and looked through the
opening. There was a mist about, but every object was visible enough. Stoop-
ing and clambering, I thrust the point of my weapon between the lead plates to
serve me as a support. Holding to this with one hand, and with the other to
the plank on which the plate had lain, I pulled myself up the roof Balbi
followed, grasping my sash behind. I was like a beast of burden, and had to
drag as well as carry ; and in this way I had to ascend the steep and slippery
side of the roof.

" We were halfway up this perilous place, when Balbi asked me to stop,
saying that one of his bundles had fallen off and had probably been arrested
by the gutter below. I had a mind at first to give him a thrust that would
send him after it, but Heaven restrained mc ; and mercifully, for the punish-
ment would have fallen on me, for his help was necessary to me. When I
heard that the bundle held his black gown, a couple of shirts, and a manuscript,
I consoled him as well as I could. He sighed and followed, still clinging tQ
my sash.

THE PRISON-BREAKER. ^3

*' I climbed over some sixteen of these lead plates, and then reached the
ridge of the roof, on which I set myself astride. The monk imitated me. Our
backs were turned towards the island of St. Georgio Maggiore, and about
two hundred paces in front rose the cupola of St Mark's. Here we took
off our bundles, and Balbi stuck the rope between his legs ; but on laying his
hat upon his right knee, it rolled off down the roof and tumbled over into the
canal. He held it a bad omen, and lamented that he had now lost hat, gown,
shirts, and papers ; but I advised him to be thankful that it had fallen to the
right and not to the left, or it would have given the alarm to the sentinel in the
arsenal below.

" I looked about me a little, and then, ordering Balbi to sit still until I
returned, began to clamber forward along the ridge, my stiletto in my hand.
For an hour I climbed thus, seeking for a hold for the rope : but all the places
below were enclosed, and there were insurmountable difficulties in the way of
getting to the canonica on the far side of the church. Yet everything must be
risked, and I must not allow myself to dwell upon the danger.

** About two-thirds of the w^ay down the slope of the roof, I noticed a dormer
window, which I judged would lead to some passage in the dwelling-houses
outside the limits of the prison. Probably at daybreak some of the doors lead-
ing out of it would be open : and even if any one met us and discovered we were
escaping prisoners, I made up my mind tbat he should find it difficult to
detain us.

" With one leg stretched out tow^ards this window I let myself slide down
gently until I reached the little roof of it, and set myself there. I next leaned
over, and by feeling, found it to be a window, with small circular panes of
glass behind a grating. To work through this, a file was needed, and I had a
stiletto only.

" Sorely dejected, I knew not what step to take next, when I was recalled
to myself by the clock of St. Mark's striking midnight. Its note announced
the morning of All Saints' Day, and called on me to act and promised me
success. Lying flat on my stomach, I reached over and struck time after
time with my dagger at the grating, in hopes of forcing it in. In a quarter
of an hour I had smashed four of the wooden squares, and my hand clutched
the framework of the window ; the panes of glass were quickly broken in, for
I did not mind cutting my hand.

"My next step was to climb back to the ridge of the roof and rejoin my
companion. I found him in a fury, and cursing me roundly for having left
him alone for two hours. He had made up his mind that I had tumbled
off the roof, and was on the point of returning to his cell. ' What are you going
to do ? ' he asked. ' That you will soon see,' I answered and packing up his
bundle he followed me.

" We reached the roof of the dormer window, and then I told him what
I had done, and what I intended. It would be easy enough for the first man.

54

THE PRISON-BREAKER.

as the second would hold the rope, But how would the second fare in his
turn ? He might break his leg in leaping down from the window-sill to the
floor within, for we had no idea of the height of the room. Balbi promptly-
proposed that I should let him go first. I just contrived to conceal my anger
at his selfishness, and proceeded to grant him his wish. Having tied the
rope round him, I set myself astride of the window-roof and let him down,
making him rest his elbow on the roof whilst he inserted his legs into the hole
which I had made. I then laid myself prone on the ridge, and bade him be
satisfied that I would keep a firm hold on the rope.

" He wriggled in and came safely down to the floor, untied himself, and I
drew the rope back. But as I did so I measured and found that the space
between the window-ledge and the floor was ten times my arm's length. To
jump this was impossible.

" Balbi called to me to throw him the rope, but I took care not to follow
his advice. In despair I clambered up to the main roof again and there found
a cupola, somewhat beyond the part of the ridge which I had traversed. It led
me to a stage covered with lead plates, and having a trap-door in it covered
with shutters. A tub of fresh lime was standing here, and a fairly long ladder.
On this I seized, and, tying my rope to one of the rungs, climbed back to the
roof, pulling the ladder after me.

" It was twelve times the length of my arm, and I meant, if I could, to thrust
it in at the dormer window and use it to join my companion. It was now
that I missed Balbi's help. I lowered the ladder down to the gutter below,
so that one end stood in the gutter and the other leant against the window.
I then pulled, at it with the rope, and endeavoured to get the end in at the
window, but in vain. It would not catch in the window-frame, but always
came sliding over the edge of the roof

" Matters were desperate Day would come and find me still struggling,
and bring Lorenzo too. I resolved to slide down the roof to the gutter, and
work the ladder in from below. I did so. The gutter gave me a resting-
place as I lay at full length and pushed. At last I managed to push it a foot
into the window, and this took much of its weight off me. But it was necessary
to thrust it in yet two feet more. I should then be able to climb back to the
window-roof and pull it completely in by the rope. To do this I had to rise to
my knees, and as I did so they slipped off the gutter and I lay with my legs
dangling in air, and my chest and elbows only preventing my fall

" I put forth all my strength to pull myself up and back to the gutter.
Luckily the ladder gave me no trouble, for it was now three feet in at the
window, and did not move. I tried to raise my right knee up to the gutter, and
had almost succeeded when I was taken with a paralysing and torturing cramp !

"It was a horrible moment. For two minutes I hung motionless and in
agony. At length the pain abated, and I succeeded in lifting one knee after
another up to the gutter again. I rested a few minutes to breathe, and then

'FOR TWO MINUTES I HUNG IN AGONY"' (P. 54>

56 THE PRISON-BREAKER.

pushed the ladder still further in at the window. My next step was to return
to the window-roof and draw the ladder right in. Balbi caught it and made it
fast : then, after throwing in my bundle and rope, I lowered myself in at the
window, and sliding down the ladder, stood by my companion.

" We shortly congratulated each other, and proceeded to inspect the dark
room in which we found ourselves. After some time we found a window, the
latch of which I raised, and passed through into a spacious hall. In this hall
we felt round the walls, and presently came on a window, the sash of which I
flung up, and by the light of the stars looked down into a fearful abyss No
descent could be made here with our rope. I returned to one of the arm-
chairs, and flinging myself into it, was seized with such an overwhelming desire
to sleep, that if I had been told it was death, I must still have given way to it.
I cannot describe the strength of the feeling.

" In three hours' time the monk awoke me. He complained that to sleep
at such a time and in such a place was unutterable folly. I agreed with him,
but at the same I felt refreshed and ready now for new work. We groped
about until we came on a large iron door, and opposite to it a smaller one
with a keyhole ; into this I thrust the pomt of my dagger, crying, * Heaven
grant that it be not a cupboard ! '

¥ " After a trial or two the lock yielded, and entering a small chamber we
found a table with a key on it. We tried it on the first key-hole we could
discover ; it opened the lock, and we stood in cupboards filled with papers. It
was the archive chamber. We passed up a few steps, opened a glass door, and
entered the Chancery of the Doge. I now knew where I was, but I reflected
that if we let ourselves down from the windows, we should probably drop among
a perfect maze of courtyards, whence egress would be impossible. So I caught
up an instrument used for piercing parchments to afiix the seals, and giving it
to Balbi, told him to work away with it upon the next door, which was locked,
whilst I helped with my stiletto,

" We bored away, not caring for the noise, until we had made a tolerably
big hole. But the splinters menaced our clothes when we attempted to creep
through ; and the hole was five feet from the ground, for I had picked the
place where the panel was thinnest. I pulled up a chair, and the monk getting
on it, stuck his arms and head through the aperture, while I pushed the rest
of him through into the next room. Its darkness did not frighten me, for I
knew where wc were, and flung my bundle after him. The rope I now left
behind As there was no one to help me, I set a chair on the top of two
others, and clambered through as far as my loins ; after this I bade Balbi pull
me with all his force, and disregarded the pain of the splinters which tore my
flesh. We then hurriedly stole down two flights of stairs and came to the
passage leading to the Royal Stairs, as they are called ; but here we were pulled
up. The gates here as well as those beyond were shut with four broad doors,
to force which would have demanded a siege-engine.

THE PRISON-BREAKER. 57

"I sat myself down by Balbi, quite calmly, and told him that my work was
finished, and the rest Heaven and fortune would help us accomplish. ' To-
day,' I added, ' is All Saints' Day, and to-morrow All Souls'. No one, there-
fore, is likely to come here. If any one does, he will open the gate, in which
case I will deliver myself, and you must follow ; if nobody, then I will stay here
and die of hunger, for I have done all I can.'

" Balbi flew into a furious rage. I kept my temper, however, and now set
about dressing myself. Though Balbi looked like a rustic, his dress, at any rate,
was free from the rents and bloodstains that disfigured mine. I pulled off my
stockings and found deep wounds on either foot, which I owed to the gutter
and the lead roof. Tearing my handkerchief into strips, I bandaged the wounds
and tied them round with some thread which I had about me. I donned my
silk dress, arranged my hair, put on my silk stockings and shirt with lace
ruflfles, and flung my cast-off clothes into a chair. I looked like a dishevelled
rake. Balbi tossed my handsome mantle over his shoulders and looked for all
the world as if he had stolen it.

"I now drew near to a window and leaned out into the daylight. As I
learned some years after in Paris, a lounger below spiedme, and, going to the
porter of the palace, informed him that some one was up there, doubtless
locked up by mistake. The fellow came to release us. I heard the sound of
footsteps ascending the stairs towards us, and peering through a chink, saw
only one old man with a bunch of keys in his hand.

" I whispered to Balbi to be silent, and concealing my dagger in my clothes,
stood close to the door so that I could reach the stairs with one spring. The
key turned and the door was pushed open. So amazed was the old man to
see us, that I was able to pass him quickly and silently. The monk followed
at my heels. I walked at a moderate pace, straight for the Grand Staircase.
Balbi would have turned into the church on the right ' for sanctuary,' as he
said, forgetting that in Venice there was no such sanctuary for State criminals
and capital offenders. At length, however, he followed me.

" I expected no safety in Venice, and knew that I was in peril until I had
passed the frontier I stood now before the Royal Gate of the Ducal Palace :
without looking at a soul, which is the best way to escape observation, I
hurriedly crossed the Piazzetta, reached the canal, and jumped into the first
gondola I found.

"We looked back. No gondola was in pursuit of us. It was a glorious day,
lit up with the early beams of a delightful sun. I thought on the dangers I
had passed, on my abode of yesterday, on all the chances that had so wonder-
fully favoured me ; and as I did so, I silently thanked God for his mercy.
Borne down by many emotions I burst into tears, which eased my heart of the
burden of joy that had almost crushed it."

58

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

ijOME fourteen miles to the south-west of Plymouth, England, and in a
line with Start Point and the Lizard, there rises, from the depths of
the billowy Channel, a ledge of rocks. At low water the jagged
points of this dismal reef can be seen above the waves, like the teeth
of some hungry wolf; with the rise of the tide, the long ridges are covered, and
the spot can only be known by the swirl and rush of the currents.

For at no time do these cease, and when the wind is blowing stiffly from the
south-west they seem to focus and concentrate all its fury. At such a time the
neighbourhood of the reef is destruction to the bravest ship, and the boiling
seas have a secure prey. Their fury is incredible ; " mountainous " is no mere
figure of speech when applied to their height and volume ; and even when the
wind falls and the waters sink, there remains a grim assurance that what the
reef has done it will do again, in the ceaseless clash of currents, tossing and
washing around, that have given it the name of the Eddystcme.

Lying, as it does, not only full in the water-way towards the port and
arsenal of Plymouth, but also in ambush for all vessels sailing in or out of the
crowded Channel, it has been the terror of navigators since England began to
be a commercial nation. And for centuries the erection of a lighthouse upon
the dreary ledge was acknowledged to be an urgent want Yet tiie task of
building it was held so dangerous, and the difficulties of firm censtruction so
forbidding, that until 1696 no one seriously undertook the task.

Even in 1696, the man who came forward might well have been considered
mad In many respects he would be held so nowadays. His name was Henry
Winstanley, and to the strangeness of his undertaking he united a strangeness
of character that gives his story all the air of a romance In figure he was tall
and lean, in face cadaverous, with that peculiar type of feature which men have
agreed to fasten on Don Quixote, And indeed, in many respects, Henry
Winstanley would seem to have resembled the noble knight of La Mancha.
He, too, was a chivalrous and patriotic gentleman — he had been led to under-
take the task simply through grief at the loss of life which the Eddystone
occasioned .year by year — and is described to us as one of those fantastic
natures which live in perpetual conflict with the commonplace, and struggle
with every weapon of imagination and invention to make life tolerable by mak-
ing it mysterious. The weapon of Winstanley was a deep scientific knowledge,
and nimble inventive faculty. Of the direction in which it was exercised, some
idea may be gained in the following manner : —

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 59

Suppose yourself invited by Winstanley to spend a few nights at the old
Essex manor-house where the solitary student had immured himself. All went
well until your host showed you to your room and left you for the night. You
made a step or two over the worn carpet and caught your foot against an old
slipper. You kicked it aside, and to your horror and amazement a whita,
sheeted ghost rose from the floor and fixed its glaring eyes on your face.
Startled almost out of your wits, you took a hasty step back from the apparition
and sank into a chair. Immediately, and from behind, a pair of arms clasped
you about the neck and held you fast. By this time fairly distraught, you
struggled violently, flung yourself free, and dashed from the room and the
house. The hall door was open, and through it you fled into the antique
garden, between the trim hedges of box and yew, and finally found yourself
standing on a neatly-kept lawn of turf, at the end of which a trellised arbour
invited you to sit and collect your senses. Scarcely had you dropped upon the
rustic seat when the bench rose with you into the air, floated out of the
arbour, over the neighbouring hedge, and deposited you gently in an artificial
lake beyond !

By such devices as this, Winstanley occupied his leisure and endeared
himself to his friends. But at length the idea of erecting a lighthouse on the
Eddystone reef turned his invention to a worthier channel. Even in this,
however, his whimsical fancy asserted itself. The design gave one the impression
rather of a Chinese pagoda than a lighthouse. It began, soberly enough, in a
circular tower, but the summit was finished off with galleries, and the whole
was ornamented with chains and cranes like a London warehouse !

The work was begun in the summer of 1696 — for it was only in summer
that men could venture on that dreary reef. The first year was spent in ex-
cavating twelve deep holes in the solid rock, and sinking in each a solid bar
of iron to hold the superstructure firm. All this was done but slowly, for al-
though it was summer, the violence of the sea often prevented labour for a fort-
night at a time ; and even when the wind abated it was difficult to find a land-
ing on the largest rock, which was the one Winstanley had chosen ; for the reef
points to the north-east, and the rocks spread their inclined sides to the roll of
the Atlantic billows, and as they continue in this shelving direction for many
fathoms below the surface, the "ground swell" thus occasioned renders the
utmost caution necessary for the advancing boat.

The second summer was spent in erecting a solid and circular mass of
masonry, fourteen feet in diameter, and clamping it securely around the iron
bars. Twelve feet was the height to which the work rose this year. In the
third summer, as the masonry rose above the assault of the waves, the work
went on more briskly. The base was enlarged by two feet, and the super-
structure carried up to a height of sixty feet

" Being all finished" — so writes the engineer — "with the lantern and all the
rooms that were in it, we ventured to lodge in the work. But the first night

to THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

the weather became bad, and so continued, that it was eleven days before any
boats could come near us again ; and not being aquainted with the height of
the sea's rising, we were almost drowned with wet, and our provisions in as bad
a condition, though we w^orked day and night as much as possible to make
shelter for ourselves. In this storm we lost some of our materials, although
we did what we could to save them ; but the boat then returning, we all left
the house to be refreshed on shore. And as soon as the weather did permit, we
returned and finished all, and put up the light on the 14th of November,
1698 : which being so late in the year, it was three days before Christmas be-
fore we had relief to go on shore again, and were almost at the last extremity
for want of provisions. But, by good Providence, then two boats came with
provisions and the family that was to take care of the light, and so ended the
year's work."

Next year the base of the tower was greatly strengthened, and the rest of
the fabric finished off. Round the lantern ran an open gallery, so wide that
we are assured it was possible, when the sea ran high, for a six-oared boat to
be lifted up on the crest of the waves and driven through it ! It was not likely
that a tower so constructed could long hold out against the tearing seas of the
Eddystone, but to Winstanley at least is due the credit of discovery that a
lighthouse was possible on this reef, and therefore this first erection merits the
description given to it as " one of the most laudable enterprises which any
heroic mind could undertake," for it filled the breast of the mariner with
new hope.

Whatever the doubts that existed in some minds, Winstanley, at any rate,
was confident in the stability of his structure. In the month of November,
1703, it was found that the fabric stood in want of some repairs, and its archi-
tect travelled down to Plymouth to superintend their performance. As he was
stepping into the boat, we are told, that was to convey him and his workmen
to the reef, one of the friends expressed the opinion that his trip was likely
to be a dangerous one ; " for " said he, " one day or other your lighthouse will
assuredly be overset."

Winstanly replied —

" I, its designer, am at any rate so very well assured of its strength, that I
should only wish to be there in the greatest storm that ever blew under hea-
ven, to see if it could loosen one joint or beam."

He was taken at his word. For while he and his workmen were engaged
upon the rock, there happened that dreadful storm that raged most violently
upon the 26th of November, 1703, throughout the night — a storm which, by all
accounts that have been handed down to us, has never been paralleled in the
havoc it wrought upon the shores of Great Britain. When, next morning, the
men of Plymouth hurried from their beds, and looked out towards the Eddy-
stone, the seas were still raging about the rock, but the lighthouse was there
no longer ! The waves had swallowed it with its architect.

'•*

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

6l

It is of this terrible storm that Gay writes in his Trivia : —

' ' So when fam'd Eddystone's far-shooting ray,
That led the sailor through the stormy way,
Was from its rocky height by billows torn,
And the high turret in the whirlwind borne.
Fleets bulged their sides against the craggy land,
And pitchy ruins blackened all the strand."

When the rock was inspected, nothing was found standing but the large

winstanley's lighthouse.

irons which had held the building to the bed of rock ; the stones, the wood-
work, the inhabitants had vanished. There was only discovered of the whole,
a piece of an iron chain so fast jammed into a chink of the rock that it could
never be disengaged until cut out in 1756.

The following is an extract from a book published in 1704, soon after Win-
stanley's death, and entitled " The Storm " : —

62 THE STOR7 OF THE EDDYSTONE.

" Of the loss of the lighthouse called the Eddystone at Plymouth, we have
never heard any particulars other than this : that at night it was standing, and
In the morning all the upper part of the gallery was blown down and all the
people in it perished ; and by a peculiar misfortune, Mr. Winstanley, the
contriver of it ; a person whose loss is very much regretted by such as knew
him, as a very useful man to his country. The loss of that lighthouse is also
a considerable damage ; as 'tis very doubtful whether it will ever be attempted
again ; and as it was a great securitie to the sailors, many a good ship having
been lost there in former times. It is very remarkable that, as we are informed,
at the same time the lighthouse above said was blown down, the model of it
in Mr. Winstanley's house at Littlebury in Essex, above two hundred miles
from the lighthouse, fell down and was broke to pieces. At Plymouth they
felt a full porportion of the storm in its utmost fury. The Eddystone has
been mentioned already : but it was a double loss, in that the lighthouse had
not been long down when the WincJielsea, a homeward-bound Virginiaman, was
split upon the rock where that building stood, and most of her men drowned."

But the attempt was to be made again, and before the conclusion of Queen
Anne's reign. A certain Captain Lovet, having obtained a lease of the rock
from the Brethren of the Trinity House, determined to replace Winstanley's
structure. To this end he engaged as his architect one John Rudyard, who
combined a taste for designing with the occupation of a silk-mercer on Ludgate
Hill. Of this Rudyard (or Ludyard, as he is variously known) little is told us,
and we hear nothing of the reasons which led Captain Lovet to make this
choice. But whatever they were, they were justified by the new edifice, which
was a strong though graceful structure, circular and simple, so as to offer the
least resistance to wind and wave

To obtain his foundation, Rudyard parcelled out the surface of the rock
into seven slightly unequal divisions of height, and in these he bored thirty-six
holes, of a depth varying from twenty to thirty inches. Each hole at the top
was six inches square, and after gradually narrowing to five inches, expanded
at the bottom to nine inches by three. Into these sockets Rudyard inserted
strong bolts of iron, in weight from two to five hundredweight. These held
fast the lowest course of squared oak timbers, laid lengthwise on the lowest of
the seven stages, until the course was on a level with the next step or stage
just above it. Then a course of beams was laid transversely, raising the height
to that of the third stage, and so on, the layers being laid alternately along
and across, until a foundation of solid timber was raised, two courses higher
than the highest point of the rock itself

The structure was of timber combined with courses of Cornish granite, so
far as the basement went : first two courses of timber, then five courses of
granite, then two more of timber, and so on — the whole being secured with iron
bolts and cramps. On this substructure, which atttained a height of sixty-three
feet, were four storeys of timber capped by an octagonal lantern, ten feet six

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 63

inches in diameter. The total height was ninety-two feet ; the stone employed
was two hundred and seventy tons, and the base measured twenty-three feei:
across. The work was finished in 1709.

It lasted long. For nearly half a century it continued to keep the vessels
off the deadly reef, and then it perished by a fate which its constructor could
not have foreseen, and under circumstances to the full as tragic as those sur-
rounding the death of Winstanley.

On the 2d of December, 1775, it was standing, to all appearance, as firm
as ever. Some trifling repairs had been made in the course of the sumnicr,
but the workmen engaged had finished their work by the 22d of August, and
had returned to shore. Since then the relieving boat had paid many visits to
the rock, and found all well. Indeed, only the morning before (December ist)
it had been and landed stores, when the light-keepers made no manner of com-
plaint. All was right, they said, except that one or two bricks in the kitchen
fireplace had been loosened by a late storm.

There were three light-keepers in the tower at the time. At about two
o'clock in the morning, the one whose turn it was to watch entered the
lantern, as usual, to snuff the candles, and found the whole place in a smoke.
To let the smoke escape he ran to the door leading to the balcony and flung
it open. Immediately a flame burst forth from the inside of the cupola. He
shouted to his comrades, but they were fast asleep in bed, and could not hear
him. The fellow, now thoroughly alarmed, bethought him of the leather buck-
ets always kept in the lighthouse, and the tub of water that stood in the lantern,
and attempted to extinguish the flame by throwing water from the balcony
upon the coating of lead which covered the cupola.

At last his cries awakened his comrades, and they hurried up to assist. He
encouraged them to fetch up water from the sea in the leather buckets. But
to do this they had to descend full seventy feet, and reascend with each pair
of buckets ; and when we reckon the quantity that must needs be spilt in such
a hurry and scramble, it may be imagined that the work of extinguishing the
fire would go on but slowly.

Indeed, the flames gathered strength with every moment. The poor stream
of water, which the unfortunate man had to throw full four yards higher than
his own head, was of little service. He was fighting every inch, however, when
his labours were cut short by a remarkable accident.

He was looking upward and straining his eyes to mark the direction and
success of the water thrown. In such an attitude the mouth is naturally a
little open. At that moment a quantity of lead, molten by the heat, suddenly
poured down in a silvery cascade from the roof and fell, not only on the man's
head and face and shoulders, but over his clothes ; and a part of it even made
its way between his neck and his collar, horribly scalding his throat and
shoulders. From this moment the poor fellow felt convinced, from the violent
internal sensation that accompanied his other agonies, that a quantity of lead

64 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

had dropped into his mouth, passed down his throat, and settled in his body.
But of this there will be more to tell presently.

" As every attempt " — says Smeaton in his "Narrative" — "had proved in-
effectual, and the rage of the flames was increasing, it is not to be wondered
that the terror and dismay of the three men increased in proportion ; so that
they all found themselves intimidated, and glad to make their retreat from that
immediate scene of horror into one of the rooms below, where they would find
themselves precluded from doing anything, for had they thrown ever so much
water there, it could not have extinguished the fire that was burning abo\e
them, nor indeed produce any other effect than of running down into the
rooms below ; and thence, finally, through the staircase back again into the sea
They seem, therefore, to have had no other recourse or means of retreat than
that of retiring downwards from room to room, as the fire advanced over
their heads."

Early that morning the fire was perceived by some of the Cawsand fishermen,
and intelligence carried to a Mr. Edwards, of Rame, in that neighbourhood — "a
gentleman of some fortune and more humanity." He immediately sent out a
fishing-boat and men to the relief.

Mr. Edwards' boat reached the reef at about ten o'clock in the morning.
By this time the fire had been burning eight hours, and the three keepers
were not only driven from all the rooms and the staircase, but to avoid the
falling of timber, red-hot bolts, and other debris, had been driven to hide
themselves in a hole or cave on the east side of the rock under the iron ladder,
where, in a state of stupor, they awaited deliverance. Had the tide been high,
even this slight shelter would have been denied them.

The wind was easterly, not blowing very fresh, but sufficiently hard to make
a landing at the proper landing-place (which is upon the east side of the rock)
quite impracticable. How were the men to be taken off.'* for the ground-swell
on the western side would allow of no landing upon its slippery surface. At
length an expedient was hit upon. Having a small boat with them, they
moored their principal boat, by a grapnel, to the westward, coming as near the
rock as they durst. Then, launching their small boat, they rowed it towards
the rock, veering out a rope, which they had fastened to the large boat, till
they were near enough to throw a small coil of rope upon the rock. The
men on the rock caught it, bound it round their waists, and jumping into the
sea, were towed into the small boat and thence delivered into the large one.

At this point we may again take up the words of the *' Narrative " : — "As
they found that it was out of their power to do any further service, this boat
hastened to Plymouth to get the men relieved. No sooner, however, were they
set on shore than one of them made off, and has never since been heard of:
which would, on the first blush, induce one to suppose there was something
culpable in the man ; and if it had been a house on shore, one would have been
tempted to suspect he had been guilty of some foul play. But the circumstance

XHB BURNING LIGHTHOUSE.

66 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE

of its being a lighthouse, situated so as to afford no retreat in the power of its
inhabitants seems to preclude the possibility of its being done wilfully, as he
must know he must perish, or be in extreme danger of so doing at least, along
with the rest. I would therefore rather impute his sudden flight to that kind
of panic which sometimes on important occasions seizes weak minds, making
them act without reason, and in so doing commit actions the very reverse in
tendency of what they mean them to have, and of which they have afterwards
reason to repent. The man already described to have suffered so much by the
molten lead was sent to his own house at Stonehouse, a village near the place
where they landed.

" It was not long after the alarm was made at Cawsand that the dreadful
news reached Plymouth ; and as, from the composition of the structure, it was
thought that a considerable part of it might be saved, at least of the founda-
tion, endeavours were not wanting for that purpose ; for Mr. Alderman Tolcher,
the agent and collector of the duties, who was a perfect enthusiast for the wel-
fare of the lighthouse, and his son, Mr. Joseph Tolcher, immediately went out to
sea : Both gentlemen were ever, but then more than ever, indefatigable in their
endeavours for its preservation. When they came there, alas ! what could
they do ? There was no landing, except at the imminent hazard of their lives ;
and if landed they could not do anything. They could therefore only have
the supreme mortification to behold that after the rooms and all the upper
works were totally destroyed, the fire was rapidly communicating itself to the
solid ; and there being many beds of solid timber above all the stone, their con-
nection with those below, by means of the mast and stairs in the well-hole, and
by the upright timbers on the outside, would not suffer a doubt to remain that,
after such a mass of fire was generated above, it would gradually communicate
itself to the beds of timber interposed between those of stone, and by that
means consume the whole.

"The late worthy Admiral West, who then lay with a fleet in Plymouth
Sound, on hearing of the accident, immediately sent out a sloop, properly
manned, with a boat and an engine therein, which also carried out Mr. Jessop,
the surveyor. This vessel also arrived early in the day on which the fire
happened. In endeavouring to make a landing of the engine, on the west side,
it being then about low water, the boatmen and engine were at once tossed
upon the rock by the wave, which on its retreat left them thereon ; and before
the engine was got out of the boat another wave came, set them afloat, and
swept them back again to their former situation. British tars are not dismayed
with small matters ; however, this accident sufficiently taught them to be
thankful to escape with their lives, and to make no further attempt to land ;
yet they, notwithstanding, tried to play the engine from the boat ; but the
agitation of the sea near the rock was such that they very soon broke the
engine-pipe. And so ended this well-meant expedition, in a total dis-
appointment."

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 67

In fact, the lighthouse was burnt to the rock ; indeed, before very long the
interposed beds of timber heated the granite courses in their turn, until the
whole became one huge mass of red-hot matter. It was not until the 7th, five
days from the outbreak of the fire, that the joint action of wind, wave, and
fire completed the catastrophe, and left no other relics of Rudyard's structure
than the bare iron cramps and branches that still stood upright from
the rock.

To return to Hall, the unhappy man whom the lead had scalded. On his
arrival ashore he still persisted in his story that some of the liquefied metal
had passed down his throat. The doctors roundly declared this impossible, and
began to think that the terrors of the fire had rendered the man a mono-
maniac. But he grew rapidly worse, and after lingering twelve days, ex-
pired at last in terrible convulsions, A post-mortem examination proved the
truth of his strange assertion, for in the stomach was found a flat, oval-shaped
piece of lead, seven ounces and five drachms in weight.

So perished the second Eddystone Light. But before we leave Rudyard's
lighthouse, we may mention a story or two connected with it.

It appears that for some time after the establishment of the lighthouse, two
men only at a time attended to it ; indeed, the duty required no more, for
beyond keeping the windows of the lantern clean — and, in general, the rooms —
there was nothing to attend to but the alternate watch of four hours each, to
snuff and renew the candles, each man at the end of his watch taking care to
call and arouse the other. It happened, however, that one of the men was
taken ill and died, and although the survivor hoisted a distress-signal, the
weather was so bad that no boat could approacli the rock to relieve him. Thus
placed, the man found himself in an awkward dilemma. He might dispose of
the body by tumbling it into the sea, but how if he were charged with
murdering his comrade .'' This apprehension led him for some time to let the
dead body lie, in hopes that the boat might be able to land and relieve him. By
degrees the body became so offensive that it was not in his power, without help,
to get rid of it. It was near a month before the relief party could effect a
landing, and then only at hazard of their lives. They found the body, of
course, in a hideous state of decomposition, and the survivor utterly worn out
with want of sleep and the other horrors of his plight. After this a third man
was employed — a regulation which not only provided against accidents, but also
afforded the light-keepers a seasonable relief ; for in summer, in their turns,
they were allowed each to go on shore and spend a month among their friends
and acquaintances.

Here is another story of the time Avhen two men only kept watch : — Certain
visitors who had seized the opportunity of a still summer day to come and
look at the lighthouse, observed to one of the men that it must be very cosy
and comfortable to live in such a state of retirement. "Yes," said the fellow,
"very comfortable indeed, if we could only have the use of our tongues. But

68 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

it is now a full month since my comrade and I have spoken to each other."
And we are assured that he spoke the truth. It seems that the pair would
seldom stay in a room together. If one sat above, the other was found below ;
and their very meals were solitary, each, like a brute, carrying off his food and
growling over it in a corner alone. And yet there was no lack of candidates
when the lightkeeper's post fell vacant. Smeaton relates an anecdote to
show how widely the opinions of men may differ concerning the nature of
seclusion. A certain cobbler who had obtained the post, and was being carried
out to the rock by the relief boat, was asked : " How comes it that you, who
can earn your hali-crown and three shillings a day in making shoes, should
choose to be a light-keeper, with a pay of but £2i, a year, which is scarce ten
shillings a week.?" "Why, 'tis just this," answered the shoe-maker: "I've
got tired of confinement."

Though two light-houses had disappeared off the Eddystone reef, the
Trinity House Corporation lost little time in trying again. They were fortunate
in the selection of their architect — one John Smeaton, a maker of mathematical
instruments, and a promising engineer. Smeaton at the time was thirty-two
years of age, a man prompt, patient, full of resource, and absolutely indefatig-
able in the face of difficulty. The Trinity Board has been fortunate in its
servants, but never has it had a brighter inspiration than that which led it to
put the construction of the new Eddystone Light into this man's hands.

Almost as soon as he began to examine the task before him, Smeaton came
to the conclusion that the two former buildings had lacked weight ; and that,
even if spared by fire, Rudyard's lighthouse could not much longer hnve held
out against the storms of the Channel. Consequently his first care was to design
a building so massive that the sea should give way to it ; and as a further
consequence he determined to employ stone only, He adopted Rudyard's con-
ception of a cy«zV<a:/ building, but proposed to enlarge the diameter considerably.
The type which he kept before him throughout was that of an oak-tree, which
neither bends nor is broken before the tempest. Further, whereas his two
predecessors had lost much valuable time owing to the difficulty of landing on
the reef, Smeaton proposed to moor a vessel within a quarter of a mile of his
scene of operations, sufficiently large to accommodate his workmen, so that
instead of wasting hours in voyaging to Plymouth and back, they might be
able to seize every opportune moment.

The work began in the autumn of 1756 — less than a year after the fire — with
the transport of stone and other materials to the rock, in shaping them, and in
cutting out the steps or stages to receive the foundations.

In June, 1757, the building began. The first stone, in weight two tons and
a quarter, was laid on the 12th, and the first course, of four huge stones, was
finished on the following day. This small number of stones was, of course,
due to the fact that the sloping rock itself afforded the major part of the
foundation. The second course, containing thirteen granite blocks, was laid

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

69

by the 30th; the third, containing- twenty-five blocks, by the lith of July;
the fourth, of thirty-three blocks, by the 31st. On the nth of August the sixth
course was completed, and the structure rose above high-watermark. The
blocks were ingeniously dovetailed together, so as to form, to all intents and
purposes, one uninterrupted ring of stone.

From this time Smeaton might regard his chief difficulties as surmounted,
and above the reach of
the waves the work went
on merrily. Unfortun-
ately it came near to be-
ing interrupted by an
accident to its engineer.

Smeaton had superin-
tended the laying of the
foundations with the
most tireless care ; and
now in a moment of
elation he could not de-
ny himself a stroll upon
the platform thus erected
above the waves. As
luck would have it, how-
ever, he made a false
step, falling over the
brink of the masonry on
to the sloping rocks of f
the western side. It
was low water at the
time, and having re-
ceived no serious injury
he was able to scramble
up again. He had dis-
located his thumb, how-
ever ; but this, as no
doctor was near, he reset himself, and quietly returned to his work as if nothing
had happened,

The year's work was finished on September 30th, with the laying of the
ninth course.

On the I2th of May, 1758, Smeaton and his workmen returned to the reef,
and to their great delight found that the storms of the winter had scarcely hurt
their work. The cement (made of the lime of Watchet, whence it had been
brought in cider- casks, since the proprietors would not allow it to be exported
in Its crude state) had become as hard as the stone itself, and the foundation

"HE MADE A FALSE STEP.'

70 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE.

seemed unshakable. Rapid progress was made, and the twenty-fourth course
was laid by September, as it was all-important to be able to show a light during
the tempests of the coming winter. Preparations for setting up a temporary
lantern were almost completed, when on October loth the work was inter-
rupted by a quarrel between the Trinity House Corporation and the lessee of
the rock. This quarrel was not patched up until well into the following year,
when on July 5th the work was started again. On the 17th of August the
main column of the lighthouse was completed, consisting of forty-six courses,
and rising to a height of seventy feet On the last stone set above the lantern
the masons carved the two words LAVS DEO ("Praise be to God !"), the most
fitting superscription for a work so bravely and modestly done. Soon after the
iron balcony and the lantern itself were put in place, and on the i6th of
October once more the merciful light shone out above the Eddystone reef.

For more than century and a quarter it continued to shine from Smeaton's
tower. The designer himself had spoken, indeed, of a " possible perpetuity"
for his work. It has won its perpetuity, but not as the speaker expected
perhaps.

From 1870 onwards, reports from time to time reached the Brethren of the
Trinity House that certain tremors and oscillations had been noticed by the
light-keepers in Smeaton's tower. In consequence, steps were taken to
strengthen the whole upper portion of the building with iron ties ; the outer
joints, too, were repointed with Portland cement, some of the courses re-bolted,
and the projection of the cornice, which was found to catch the upward stroke of
the waves, reduced by five inches.

Still, however, the oscillations were felt from time to time, especially during
the sou'-westerly gales, and it became evident that the stability of the tower
was failing. Accordingly, in 1877, Admiral Sir Richard Collinson, the Deputy
Master, and some of the Elder Brethren of the Trinity House accompanied by
their engineer, Mr. James N. Douglas, made a searching inspection of the tower
and rock.

The inspections showed that the weakness lay, not in Smeaton's tower, but
in the rock itself, which was being slowly undermined by the waves. Indeed, a
large wedge had already been detached, which had thrown a severe strain upon
the rest of the foundation. The tower itself was strong enough to stand,
perhaps, for another century.

On realising the extent of the mischief, the Brethren decided that immediate
steps should be taken to build a new tower on another and more stable
foundation. The fate of Winstanley's tower had been terrible enough ; but
another such catastrophe would be infinitely more calamitous, as the number of
passing vessels had vastly increased.

Many careful surveys were made, and a base for the new lighthouse was at
length found on a rock some forty yards distant from the old tower, in a

THE STORY OF THE EDDY STONE. 71

south-south-cast direction. There was but one drawback ; the top of the
selected rock was only just above the level of low water, and the foundations
had therefore to be laid below that level. The difficulty, however, could be
overcome, and the task of designing a worthy successor to Smeaton's light was
placed in the hands of Mr. J. N. Douglass, the engineer who had conducted
the first inspection.

Again the Brethren were most fortunate in the man of their choice. The
first landing on the rock was made on the 17th of July, 1878, and five others
before the month was out. The actual work on the rock commenced on July 23d.
The operations of the season were entirely successful, only a few small stones
being carried away by the sea, and were prolonged until December 21st, when
labour was suspended for the winter.

The most perilous time, of course, was that during which the men worked
below the low-water level. They could never spend more than three consecutive
hours upon the rock ; in other words, their stay was limited to the interval
betAveen three-quarters ebb and three-quarters flood. On the 19th of August,
1879, the foundation-stone was laid ; and the second season closed on
December 19th, with eight courses laid.

The winter was severe, and when on February 25th, 1880, the first visit for
the year was made, there was much apprehension lest the storms should have
wrought havoc with the work ; but it was found that, beyond the loss of the
iron jib of the landing-crane, no damage had been done. The building went
on briskly, and the tower rose above the level of high water. Henceforward, a
longer time could be spent upon the rock, and the result was that the season
closed with the laying of the thirty-eigth course.

On the first of June, 1882, H. R. H. the Duke of Edinburgh laid the top
stone of Douglass's tower.

The main idea of Smeaton's structure was preserved, but the improvements
upon it were numerous. Smeaton's tower contained but 988 tons of masonry.
The new tower held 4,668 tons. The stones were 2,171 in number, containing
63,020 cubic feet, — a mass in itself probably sufficient to withstand the tempest ;
but to make everything safe each stone is dovetailed above, below, and on all
sides, to the stones adjoining, and is in addition securely cemented. Smeaton's
tower contained four rooms in addition to the lantern ; in the new lighthouse
there are nine, each more commodious than any in the old building. The light
in the new tower can be seen at a distance of seventeen and a half miles,
exceeding by four and a half miles the distance at which the light in
Smeaton's tower was visible.

Four keepers are attached to the lighthouse, but three only are kept on duty
at a time. Each man has six weeks at the rock, followed by a fortnight ashore ;
and every fortnight, if the weather permits, the relief boat goes out to the
Eddystone, taking with her the man who has been keeping holiday, and
bringing back the man who has kept his six weeks of watch.

72

THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE

The old building was taken carefully to pieces, and has since been re-erected
on Plymouth Hoe. There it may honorably realise that " possible perpetuity "
of which Smeaton dreamed. But the true perpetuity of that man's work will
be found in the tower which Douglass has erected — that is, in the outgrowth,
under worthy hands, of the magnificent type which he bequeathed. A future
generation may in turn build another tower ; but should the new Eddystone
Lighthouse fall short of perfection in the eyes of another age, the criticism will
yet allow that the progress has been on the road to perfection ; and meanwhile
the light on the Eddystone reef will shine unquenched and beneficent.

THE NEW EDDYSTONE I IGHTHOUSE,

73

AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

HE following narative, which treats of an adventure in one of the
wildest districts of Spain, we have the permission of Mr. Murray to
extract from " The Bible in Spain," by George Borrow :

In order to direct my course to the Asturias, I crossed the bay
from Coruna to Ferrol, whilst Antonio with our remaining horse followed by
land, a rather toilsome and circuitous journey, although the distance by water
is scarcely three leagues. At Ferrol I waited two or three days for the arrival
of Antonio, and still he came not ; late in the evening, however, as I was look-
ing down the street, I perceived him advancing, leading our only horse by the
bridle. He informed me that about three leagues from Coruna, the heat of the
weather and the flies had so distressed the animal that it had fallen down in a
kind of fit, from which it had been only relieved by copious bleeding, on which
account he had been compelled to halt for a day upon the road. The horse was
evidently in a very feeble state, and had a strange rattling in its throat, which
alarmed me at first. I however administered some remedies, and in a few days
deemed him sufficiently recovered to proceed.

We accordingly started from Ferrol, having first hired a pony for myself,
and a guide who was to attend us as far as Rivadeo, twenty leagues from
Ferrol, and on the confines of the Asturias, The day at first was fine ; but ere
we reached Novales, a distance of three leagues, the sky became overcast, and
a mist descended, accompanied by a drizzling rain. The country through which
we passed was very picturesque. At about two in the afternoon we could
descry through the mist the small fishing-town of Santa Marta on our left,
with its beautiful bay. Travelling along the summit of a line of hills, we
presently entered a chestnut forest, which appeared to be without limit. The
rain still descended, and kept up a ceaseless pattering among the broad
green leaves.

" This is the commencement of the autumnal rains," said the guide. " Many
is the wetting that you will get, my masters, before you reach Oviedo."

" Have you ever been as far as Oviedo .-• " I demanded,

" No, he replied, " and only once to Rivadeo, the place to which I am now
conducting you ; and I tell you frankly that we shall soon be in wildernesses
where the way is hard to find, especially at night, and amidst rain and waters.
I wish I were fairly back to Ferrol, for I like not this route, which is the
worst in Galicia, in more respects than one ; but where my pony's master goes,
there must I go too ; such is the life of us guides "

iw^^ew^fewms^

74 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

I shrugged my shoulders at this intelligence, which was by no means
cheering, but made no answer. At length, about nightfall, we emerged from
the forest, and presently descended into a deep valley at the foot of lofty hills.

" Where are we now ? " I demanded of the guide, as we crossed a rude
bridge at the bottom of the valley down which a rivulet, swollen by the rain,
foamed and roared.

" In the valley of Coisa Doiro," he replied ; "and it is my advice that we
stay here for the night, and do not venture among those hills, through which
lies the path to Viviero ; for as soon as we get there, adios ! I shall be
bewildered, which will prove the destruction of us all."

" Is there a village nigh ? "

" Yes ; the village is right before us, and we shall be there in a moment."

We soon reached the village, which stood amongst some tall trees at the
entrance of a pass which led up amongst the hills. Antonio dismounted, and
entered two or three of the cabins, but presently came to me saying —

" We cannot stay here, tnon maiire, without being devoured by vermin :
we had better be amongst the hills than this place ; there is neither fire
nor light in these cabins, and the rain is streaming through the roofs."

The guide, however, refused to proceed. " I could scarcely find my way
amongst these hills by daylight," he cried surlily, " much less at night, 'midst
storm and bretima'' We procured some wine and maize bread from one of the
cottages. Whilst we were partaking of these, Antonio said —

" Mon viaitrc, the best thing we can do in our present situation is to hire
some fellow of this village to conduct us through the hills to Viveiro. There
are no beds in this place, and if wc lie down in the litter in our damp clothes,
we shall catch a tertia of Galicia. Our present guide is of no service; we
must therefore find another to do his duty."

Without waiting for a reply, he flung down the crust of broa which he
was munching, and disappeared. I subsequently learned that he went to the
cottage of the alcade, and demanded, in the Queen's name, a guide for the
Greek Ambassador, who was benighted on his way to the Asturias. In about
ten minutes I again saw him, attended by the local functionary, who, to my
surprise, made me a profound bow, and stood bareheaded in the rain.

" Mis excellency," shouted Antonia, " is in need of a guide to Viveiro. People
of our description are not compelled to pay for any service which they may
require ; however, as his excellency has bowels of compassion, he is willing to
give three pesetas to any competent person who will accompany him to Viveiro,
and as much bread and wine as he can eat and drink on his arrival."

" His excellency shall be served," said the alcade ; " however, as the way is
long and the path is bad, and there is much bretitna amongst the hills, it
appears to me that, besides the bread and wine, his excellency can do no less
than offer {owx pesetas to the guide who may be willing to accompany him to
Viveiro ; and I know no one better than my own son-iii-l.iw, Juanito."

AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

75

" Content, Senor Alcalde," I replied ; " produce the guide, and the extra
peseta shall be forthcoming, in due season."

Soon apeared Juanito, with a lantern in his hand. We instantly set forward.
The guides began conversing in Gallegan.

'^ Moil inaitre," said Antonio, " this new scoundrel is asking the old one what
he thinks we have in our portmanteaus." Then, without awaiting my answer,
he shouted — " Pistols, ye
barbarians ! Pistols, as

you shall learn to your
cost, if you do not cease
speaking in that gibberish
and converse in Castilian."

The Gallegans were
silent, and presently the
first guide dropped behind,
whilst the other with the
lantern moved before.

"Keep in the rear,"
said Antonia to the former,
" and at a distance : know
one thing, moreover, that
I can see behind as well as
before. Mo7i matt re,'' said
he to me, " I don't suppose
these fellows will attempt
to do us any harm, more
especially as they do not
know each other ; it is well
however, to separate them,
for this is a time and place
which might tempt any one
to commit robbery and
murder too,"

The rain still continued to fall uninterruptedly, the path was rugged and
precipitous, and the night was so dark that we could only see indistinctly the
hills which surrounded us. Once or twice our guide seemed to have lost his
way ; he stopped, muttered to himself, raised his lantern on high, and would
then walk slowly and hesitatingly forward. In this manner we proceeded
ior three or four hours, when I asked the guide how far we were from
Viveiro.

" I do not know exactly where we are, your worship," he replied, " though I
believe we are in the route. We can scarcely, however, be less than two mad
leagues from Viveiro."

ON THE WAY.

'TTSTTTrrT^rrTr-

76 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

*' Then we shall not arrive there before morning," interrupted Antonio, "for
a mad league of Galicia means at least two of Castile ; and perhaps we are
doomed never to arrive there, if the way thither leads down this precipice."

As he spoke, the guide seemed to descend into the bowels of the earth.
" Stop," said I ; " where are you going .'' "

"To Viveiro, Senor," replied the fellow ; "this is the way to Viveiro, there
is no other ; I now know where we are "

The light of the lantern shone upon the dark red features of the guide, who
had turned round to reply, as he stood some yards down the side of a dingle
or ravine overgrown with thick trees, beneath whose leafy branches a frightfully
steep path descended. I dismounted from the pony, and delivering the bridle
to the other guide, said —

" Here is your master's horse ; if you please you may lead him down that
abyss, but as for myself, I wash my hands of the matter."

The fellow, without a word of reply, vaulted into the saddle, and with a
" Vamos, Perico ! " to the pony, impelled the creature to the descent. " Come,
Senor," said he with the lantern, " there is no time to be lost, my light will be
presently extinguished, and this is the worst bit in the whole road." I thought
it very probable that he was about to lead us to some den of cut-throats,
where we might be sacrificed ; but, taking courage, I seized our own horse by
the bridle, and followed the fellow down the ravine amidst rocks and brambles.
The descent lasted nearly ten minutes, and ere we had entirely accomplished it,
the light in the lantern went out, and we remained in total darkness.

Encouraged, however, by the guide, who assured us there was no danger, we
at length reached the bottom of the ravine ; here we encountered a rill of
water, through which we were compelled to wade as high as the knee. In the
midst of the water I looked up and caught a glimpse of the heavens through
the branches of the trees, which all around clothed the shelving sides of the
ravine, and completely embowered the channel of the stream : to a place more
strange and replete with gloom and horror, no benighted traveller ever found
his way. After a short pause we commenced scaling the opposite bank, which
we did not find so steep as the other, and a few minutes' exertion brought us
to the top.

Shortly afterwards the rain abated, and the moon arising cast a dim light
through the watery mists ; the way had become less precipitous, and in about
two hours we descended to the shore of an extensive creek, along which we
proceeded till we reached a spot where many boats and barges lay with their
keels upward upon the sand. Presently we beheld before us the walls of Viveiro,
upon which the moon was shedding its sickly lustre. We entered by a
lofty and seemingly ruinous archway, and the guide conducted us at once
to the posada.

Every person in Viveiro appeared to be buried in profound slumber ; not
so much as a dog siluted us with his bark. After much knocking we

AN ADVEN'iURE IN SPAIN. 77

were admitted into the posada, a large and dilapidated edifice. We had
scarcely housed ourselves and horses when the rain began to fall with much
thunder and lightning. Antonio and I, exhausted with fatigue, betook our-
selves to flock beds in a ruined chamber, into which the rain penetrated
through many a cranny, whilst the guides ate bread and drank wine till
the morning.

When I arose I was gladdened by the sight of a fine day. Antonio forth-
with prepared a savoury breakfast of stewed fowl, of which we stood in much
need after the ten-league journey of the preceding day. I walked out to view
the town, which consists of little more than one long street, on the side of a
steep mountain thickly clad with forest and fruit trees. At about ten we
continued our journey, accompanied by our first guide, the other having returned
to Coisa Doiro some hours previously.

Our route throughout this day was almost constantly within sight of the
Cantabrian Sea, whose windings we followed. The country was barren, and in
many parts covered with huge stones ; cultivated spots, however, were to be
seen, where vines were growing. We met with but few human habitations.
We, however, journeyed on cheerfully, for the sun was once more shining in full
brightness, gilding the wild moors, and shining upon the waters of the distant
sea, which lay in unruffled calmness

At evening-fall we were in the neighbourhood of the shore, with a range
of well-covered hills on our right. Our guide led us towards a creek bordered
by a marsh, but he soon stopped, and declared that he did not know whither
he was conducting us.

"J/(?;/ ;;/^//r^," said Antonio, " let us be our own guide; it is, as you see,
of no use to depend on this fellow, whose whole science consists in leading
people into quagmires "

We therefore turned aside, and proceeded along the marsh for a considerable
distance, till we reached a narrow path which led us into a thick wood, where
we soon became completely bewildered On a sudden, after wandering about a
considerable time, we heard the noise of water, and presently the clack of a
wheel. Following the sound, we arrived at a low stone mill, built over a brook ;
here we stopped and shouted, but no answer was returned.

" The place is deserted," said Antonio ; "here, however, is a path, which, if
we follow it, will doubtless lead us to some human habitation."

So we went along the path, which in about ten minutes brought us to the
door of a cabin, in which we saw light. Antonio dismounted and opened
the door. "Is there any one here who can conduct us to Rivadeo .'' " he
demanded.

" Senor," answered a voice, " Rivadeo is more than five leagues from here,
and, moreover, there is a river to cross."

"Then to the next village," said Antonio.

"I am a vecino of the next village, which is on the way to Rivadeo," said

; Hkii-^ W- ■•ijK"' 'V. liViii.i '■ J fjt^

78

AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

another voice, " and I will lead you thither, if you will give me fair words and,
what is better, fair money."

A man now came forth, holding in his hand a large stick. He strode
sturdily before us, and in less than half an hour led us out of the wood In
another half-hour he brought us to a group of cabins situated near the sea :
he pointed to one of these, and having received a peseta, bade us farewell.

CROSSINO THE F07,.

The people of the cottage willingly consented to receive ns for the night ;
it was much more cleanly and commodious than the wretched huts of the
Gallegan peasantry in general. The ground floor consisted of a keeping-room
and stable, whilst above was a long loft, in which were some neat and comfort-
able flock beds. I observed several masts and sails ol boats. The family
consisted of two brothers, with their wives and families ; one was a fisherman,
but the other, who appeared to be the principal person, informed me that he
had resided for many years in service ^t Madrid, and, having amassed a small
sum, he had at length returned to his native village, where he had purchased
some land which he farmed. All the family used the Castilian language in

AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

79

their common discourse, and on inquiry I learned that the Gallegan was not
much spoken in that neighbourhood. I have forgotton the name of this village,
which is situated on the estuary of the Foz, which rolls down from Mondonedo.
In the morning we crossed this estuary in a large boat, with our horses, and
about noon arrived at Rivadeo.

"Now, your worship," said the guide who had accompanied us from Ferrol,
'•I have brought you as far as I bargained, and a hard journey it has been ; I
therefore hope you will suffer Perico and myself to remain here to-night at
your expense, and to-morrow we will go back ; at present we are both sorely
tired."

"I never mounted a better pony than Perico," said I, "and never met with
a worse guide than }-ourself. You appear to be perfectly ignorant of the coun-
try, and have done nothing but bring us into difficulties. You may, however,
stay here for the night, as you say you are tired, and to-morrow you may
return to Ferrol, where I counsel you to adopt some other trade " This was
said at the door of the posada of Rivadeo.

" Shall I lead the horses to a stable ?" said the fellow.

" As you please," said I.

Antonio looked after him for a moment, as he was leading the animals
away, and then, shaking his head, followed slowly after. In about a quarter
of an hour he returned, laden with the furniture of our horse, and with a smile
upon his countenance.

''A/on maitrc,'' said he, "I have throughout the journey had a bad opinion
of this fellow, and now I have detected him ; his motive in requesting per-
mission to stay was to purloin something from us. He was very officious in
the stable about our horse, and I now miss the new leathern girth which secured
the saddle, and which I observed him looking at frequently on the road. He
has by this time doubtless hid it somewhere ; we are quite secure of him,
however, for he has not yet received the hire for the pony nor the gratuity for
himself."

The guide returned just as he concluded speaking. Dishonesty is always
suspicious. The fellow cast a glance upon us, and probably beholding in our
countenances something which he did not like, he suddenly said, " Give me
the horse and my own propi no for Perico, and I wish to be off instantly."

"How is this.?" said I; "I thought you and Perico were both fatigued,
and wished to rest here for the night. You have soon recovered from your
weariness "

" I have thought over the matter," said the fellow, "and my master will be
angry if I loiter here ; pay us, therefore, and let us go."

" Certainly," said I, " if you wish it. Is the horse-furniture all right .'"

" Quite so," said he ; " I delivered it all to your servant."

" It is all here," said Antonio, "with the exception of the leathern girth."

" I have not got it," said the guide.

8o AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN.

" Of course not," said I ; "let us proceed to the stable ; we shall perhaps find
it there."

To the stable we went, which we searched through ; no girth, however, was
forthcoming. " He has got it buckled round his middle beneath his pantaloons,
vion inaitre" said Antonio, whose eyes were moving about like those of a lynx ;
" I saw the protuberance as he stooped down. However, let us take no notice:
he is here surrounded by his countrymen, who, if we were to seize him, might
perhaps take his part. As I said before, he is in our power, as we have not
paid him."

The fellow now began to talk in Gallegan to the bystanders (several persons
having collected), wishing the Denho to take him if he knew anything of the
missing property. Nobody, however, seemed inclined to take his part ; and
those who listened only shrugged their shoulders. We returned to the portal of
the Posada, the fellow following us, clamoring for the horse-hire and t\\Q piopina.
We made him no answer, and at length he went away, threatening to apply to
thejusticia ; in about ten minutes, however, he came running back with the
girth in his hand.

" I have just found it," said he, " in the street : )Our servant dropped it "

I took the leather and proceeded very deliberately to count out the sum to
which the horse-hire amounted, and having delivered it to him in the presence
of witnesses, I said, " During the whole journey you have been of no service
to us whatever ; nevertheless you have fared like ourselves, and have had all
you could desire to eat and drink. I intended, on leaving us, to present you,
moreover, with a propina of two dollars ; but since, notwithstanding our kind
treatment, you endeavoured to pillage us, I will not give you a cuarto ; go,
therefore, about your business."

All the audience expressed their satisfaction at this sentence, and told him
that he had been rightly served, and that he was a disgrace to Galicia. Two
or three women crossed themselves, and asked him if he was not afraid that
the Denho, whom he had invoked, would take him away. At last a respectable-
looking man said to him, " Are you not ashamed to have attempted to rob
two innocent strangers .? "

" Strangers ! " roared the fellow, who was by this time foaming with rage ;
"innocent strangers ! Carracho ! they know more of Spain and Galicia too than
the whole of us. Oh, Denho ! that servant is no man but a wizard, a mnniro
Where is Perico } "

He mounted Perico, and proceeded forthwith to another posada. The tale
however, of his dishonesty had gone before him, and no person would house
him ; whereupon he returned on his steps, and seeing me looking out of the
window of the house, he gave a savage shout, and shaking his fist at me^
galloped out of the town ; the people pursuing him with hootings and revilings.

"HE WAS PEERING FORWARD."

MISTAKEN.

I — A MISTAKEN VENGEANCE. Jamaica, 1830

T was a warm evening in Jamaica. The low windows of the planter's
house were thrown open to admit what small amount of fresh
breeze might be straying in the air. Through these shafts of
light were flung across the broad verandah ; and through them also
came the noise of many voices talking together, the clink of glasses, and every
now and again the fragments of some uproarious chorus. It was evident that,
within, Mr. Scott, the owner of the house, was making merry with his friends.

Outside on the verandah, it was dark enough between the patches of light ;
and in this darkness, by the shadow of one of the pillars, crouched the figure
of a man — of a negro.

He had dropped on hands and knees, and was peering forward to catch a
glimpse of the room inside, though obviously careful not to thrust his head
too far into the light. From his position he could hear every word that was
spoken inside the room ; and indeed, as the sounds of merriment floated out
on the windless night, it was plain that the drinkers had little care whether
they were heard or not. He could see also the flushed faces of one or two

m

82 MISTAKEN.

and the backs of others as they leant forward and went through the ceremony
of taking wine together.

Suddenly at the end of the table the voices grew louder yet, and the kneeling
figure could see a redfaced gentleman pause in the act of singing a bacchanalian
stave and drop his jaw to listen. The hidden witness bent further forward and
strained his ears.

" You did, sir!"

" I deny it."

*' I say, sir, that I heard you with my own ears ! "

" And I say, sir, that you lie ! "

There was the sound of a falling chair, a volley of oaths, a crash of glass,
and the company leapt to their feet and sprang forward to part the combatants.
The man on the verandah lost his caution now and stepped almost up to the
window. He saw, held apart by their friends, the host of the evening, Mr.
Scott, and his friend, Mr. Wilson. The forehead of the former had a nasty
cut beside the left temple, and from this wound the blood was running down
his face and mingling with the wine that Wilson had discharged, glass and all
in his face.

The two men could with difficulty be held apart. They were both flown
with wine, and a trifle thick of speech ; but the last half-minute had sobered
them a little. As soon as the din of expostulation and entreaty had somewhat
subsided, Scott wiped his face in his handkerchief, and said —

" You shall give me satisfaction for this."

" Whenever you please."

"This night, then."

" This moment, if you will."

" Stop, stop, gentlemen ! " interposed the most sober of the guests. " If you
must fight over a trifling quarrel, at least let the matter be conducted decentl}-
and in order. To-morrow you may both come to your senses and be heartily
ashamed of this "

" Do you hint that I am drunk, sir ?*' interrupted Wilson savagely.

" No, no ; but surely you can wait to conduct an affair like this is an ordinary
manner. To morrow at least your heads will be cooler "

"Cooler.?"

" Yes, for taking aim. To rush off and fly at each other at once, like two
fighting niggers, is unheard of. Let me suggest, too, that these arrangements
are best left to friends, and should not be settled by principals."

" Oh, certainly," said Scott ; " I have no objection to putting this in the hands
of seconds. I insist only that the matter shall be settled this night."

" And I also insist on this," added Wilson ; " the moon is already risen. In
half an hour there will be plenty of light by which to despatch the business."

" Will you act for me, Mr. Chambers ? " said Scott, addressing the sober man
»vho had been interceding on behalf of order.

mSTAKEN. 83

Mr. Chambers bowed, and Wilson asked a similar favour of a Mr. Rayner,
and the two seconds arranged the preliminaries on the spot. Muskets were
fixed upon as the weapons, and a lawn at the back of the house as the place
of meeting. The combatants would have to fire by the light of the moon ; but
with men who have had no great practice, a musket in a dim light is more
deadly than a pistol at noonday. So far the arrangements had been made, when
Chambers said to Rayner—

" This public manner of settling preliminaries is a trifle vulgar, is it not .''
Would you mind stepping out on the verandah with me, where we can be alone
together ? "

" Upon my word," laughed Wilson, " we are becoming mighty ceremonious.
It seems to me that when two men wish to kill each other, you take a deal of
trouble to let them do it."

Nevertheless, the two seconds stepped out of the open window on to the
verandah. As they did so. Chambers caught the other by the arm —

" Hulloa ! What's the matter ? "

" I thought 1 saw some one disappear in the shadow there, by the corner of
the house "

"Some servant, perhaps, attracted by the noise of the quarrel inside. I don't
wonder at it. There was row enough made to be heard a mile off"

" Great nonsense ! "

" Great nonsense, as you say. To-morrow morning, if they would be content
to sleep upon it as you suggested, they would be heartily ashamed of them-
selves. Such good friends, too as Scott and Wilson ! What was it all about .''
I'll be hanged if I know."

"I'll be hanged if I know, either. Upon my word, what with the noise and
the chattering, I really forgot to ask ; less than a trifle, I dare say."

" It could not be more. They were excellent friends all the evening, until
the wine got in them. But it's too late now ; I suppose we must let the two
fools try to kill each other."

" I suppose so."

" I hope to heaven they do each other no mischief The worst of it is, this
quarrel has sobered them ; they are getting cooler every minute."

" Why not prevent it ? "

" Prevent it ! What do you mean ? You agreed a moment since that the
quarrel had gone too far, and now you say "

" And now I say what I called you out to tell you. It is clear — you agree
with me — that to let one of these men kill the other would be a sin. Then why
not load the muskets with a blank charge ? "

"We should be detected."

" Two-thirds of the company are drunk. The men themselves are drun.^
Who is to wonder if they fail to kill each other ? And even if the tricV were
discovered later, to-morrow we should have the two fools round to thank us

84 MISTAKEN.

" I have a mind to do as you say."

"That's right. We shall have the loading of the guns ; and this night I
hope to go to sleep with a quiet conscience."

The matter was arranged. Twenty minutes later, on the lawn encircled with
shrubs behind the planter's house, the company had gathered to see the two
angry men wipe out their difference. On the open lawn, where the principals
stood, the moon shone brightly enough. The shrubbery around was dark, and
the figures of the spectators could scarcely be discerned against the black
foliage. The ground was measured out, the muskets loaded, and now the two
stood facing each other, with the moonlight shining vividly along the barrels
of their weapons. The seconds stood aside, and Mr. Chambers gave the word —

"Fire!"

Out upon the night rang the explosion. Almost before the flash had come
and gone, one of the figures staggered a step — two steps — forward, flung up
his hands as he dropped his musket, and with a piercing cry fell npon his
face. It was Mr. Wilson.

" Admirable acting, upon my soul ! " muttered Chambers to himself, as he
strolled up to the group around the fallen man.

" He has fainted," he said quietly.

" Fainted ! Good heavens, man, what are you talking about .'' He is dead !''

It was true. The unfortunate man, as the}' tried to lift him up, fell back limp
and lifeless in their arms. At Ihis moment Mr. Scott came up He was ghastly
white, and thoroughly sober now.

" I have not killed him ? Tell mc — some one — that I have not killed him.
For God's sake lift him up and let him tell me that he is not dead !"

" He will never speak again," said one.

" That is absurd," interrupted Chambers : " he is faint, I tell you,"

"Faint.?"

" Yes, I will tell you why. Rayner and I loaded the muskets. We put in no
bullets, only powder. He cannot be killed."

" See here," said a man who was bending over the body ; " look at this.
Here is blood — the man is dead. Merciful heavens ! " he cried, turning the
body over, "it is in the back. He is shot in the back ! "

"In the back ?"

"Some other hand than Scott's fired this shot," screamed Chambers, leaping
to his feet. " Scott couldn't have shot him in the back — it's impossible : and
his gun was loaded with blank charge, I tell you. Search the bushes, every-
body ! "

They did not need this exhortation. One and all, they were completely
sober now, and into the bushes they rushed to clear up this mystery. Hardly
had they taken a step when they heard a rustling in the thicket ahead of
them, and Rayner, who was first, caught sight of a figure stealthily creeping
away in the shadow.

MISTAKEN.

8S

" There ho is ! There's the murderer ! Catch him, all of you ! "

The man, finding himself detected, stopped, and straightening himself up,

came towards them. He was a negro.

" Yes, I did it," he said, and pointed to a

carbine which he still grasped in his hand

They fell upon him, seized him, and dragged

him forward into the moonlight beside the

body of the murdered man. He made no

resistance, but, as he stepped out on the

lawn, turned his face upon the man who held

him by the right shoulder. It was Scott.

" You ' " The
ftllow's jaw had
dropped, and
his face was
ashen — ''You ! "
h e repeated ;
" I thought it
was you — that

I Who is

it ^ " he cried —
" Who is it that
I killed?"
They stood
a r c u n d him
now in a cir-
cle, as he bent and examined his victim. Presently he lifted up his face and
turned to Scott.

" I thought it was jw^" he said ; " I meant it to be you. Look here : you've
caught me, and I shall be hanged for this ; but you may as well hear my tale.

" 'THERE HE IS.

86 M. FESTEAUE BLUNDER.

I thought you — Scott, there — were the man I covered when I pulled the trigger.'*

"The fellow is mad," said Scott. "Why, in heaven's name, man, what harm
have I ever done to you ? I never saw your face before in my life."

" Likely not. But I've seen yours. Do you remember, last week, riding
into Kingston ? "

" Certainly. It was last Tuesday."

"Right : it was last Tuesday. On your way you passed a gibbet, on w^hich
a coloured man was hanging. Do you remember what you did as you passed
that gibbet .'' You have forgotten, I dare say ; but 1 remember, for I was on the
other side of the hedge and watched you. You rode up to the gibbet — curse
you, and all your kind ! — and what did you do .-• You white men must be
playful with men of colour, even after they are dead and hanged. You grinned,
you did, and stuck a pipe in the dead man's mouth for sport, and rode away
grinning at your joke. It was a pretty joke, was it not ? — and a safe one, no
doubt. ' Niggers' — and dead ' niggers ' too — are a quiet lot. Here is your pipe
— do you see ? I was that dead man's brother ; and I was watching his body
to see that it took no harm, for I know you and your kind — curse you ! — will
have your little jokes. And I loved my brother — which seems a strange thing
in a ' nigger' you think ; and this night I meant to shoot you. I was listening in
the verandah to-night. I heard quarreling ; I heard \\ here you were going to
fight ; I ran home and loaded my carbine and came back in time But the
darkness played me a trick. I have shot the wrong man ; and now )ou may
hang me. But I tell you the only thing I am sorry for is that I did not shoot
you as well ! "

II.— THE BLUNDER OF M. FESTEAU. Paris, 1700.

One gusty autumn night, towards the middle of the last century, in a little
monastery in the Upper Gevaudan, a monk lay dying.

The wind shrieked and whistled in the pines outside the narrow window ;
but witiiin the little cell itself the silence was broken only by the laboured
breathing of the sick man For the monastery was a home of silence, and
even the brown-robed Father Martin, who had administered the last sacrament
and was now kneeling at the bedside in prayer, had not spoken a word for the
last quarter of an hour. He was a very old man. this Father Martin, and had
much ado, from rheumatism, to get down on his knees, or having got down to
get up. Presently the dying brother opened his eyes, somewhat wearily, as if
this dying were but a tedious affair, and spoke —

" Father Martin."

" My son."

The sick monk was near seventy years of age, but the elder called him by
this title, as he had done for more years than he could well count.

" Do you remember the day I came to this place — almost fifty years ago ? "'

M. FESTEAU'S BLUNDER. 87

" I remember it well. It was a spring morning, and I had been out about
the garden ; I was hurrying in to sing my office when I saw you at the gate :
a young man, bent and footsore, but with every gift upon you to enjoy in the
outer world. I remember that we young brothers speculated on your story, but
you never told it."

" Not even in confession did I ever tell it all. And yet it is simple enough :
listen."

" My son, it will exhaust your strength."

"I am dying surely enough, and that will make little difference. One may
be wearied even by silence — if that silence last lor fifty years. Listen again."

The monk's tone was low and laboured at first — so low that Father Martin
had to strain his ears to catch the whisper that was almost drowned by the wind
in the pines outside. And the dying man's story was this : —

" I was a surgeon, once, in Paris. To a certain extent I was famous in my
profession ; for, though young, I was looked upon as a clever and rising man.
One day I was called in to attend a young lady of noble family, a Mademoiselle
Villacerfe, who had sprained her ankle in a fall from her horse That young
lady — how shall I describe her ? "

" Do not describe her," advised Father Martin, who, for all his sixty years in
the cloister, foresaw what was coming.

" She was an angel on earth, my father ; she is now an angel in heaven "

" Poor thing !" sighed the elder, with more relevency to his own sympathy
than to the actual words.

" You will remember, my father, that she was of noble birth, and I was but
a surgeon. And though, by the time that I paid my third visit, I was
passionately in love, I remembered this as well, and recognised that my case was
hopeless. Nevertheless, I continued to love her ; perhaps, after a lifetime spent
in this place, such words as these may seem hard to believe."

" I assure you, no," said the other.

" Worse than all, I suspected — indeed, after awhile I knew — that my love
was returned ; by what small signs I learnt this I cannot tell you. I only know
that I was convinced of it. But she knew as well as I the barrier that lay be-
tween her blood and mine ; and so we never spoke a word of what was nearest
our hearts. She was young, and doubtless her relatives planned for her in time
an honourable match. At the end of a fortnight she was cured, and after that
I only saw her at rare intervals, when she passed me in the streets — never to
speak to — not once.

" Two years passed in this way, and I noticed with a selfish joy that she
was still unmarried. Perhaps her relatives were yet hesitating about the most
suitable match ; perhaps, as I perferred to believe, there was some difficulty on
her part. When I saw her in passing, there was not a sign to show that she
more than barely remembered my once having been of service to her. And yet,
somehow, in my heart I was sure that she loved me. It was a vain thing to

88 M FESTEAU'S BLUNDER.

pride myself upon, but I did so, nevertheless. Two years passed, as I have
said, and she was still Mademoiselle Villacerfe, when by a slight indisposition
she was forced to keep to her room. The iamily physician saw her, and advised
that she should be bled ; and I was the surgeon sent for to perform that duty.

"What my feelings were when I received the message I will not attempt to
paint. At first, so frightened was I, so insecure of myself, that I had a mind
to decline to attend, and to send another in my place. Would to heaven that
I had ! But at length I summoned up courage to go.

" That my face as I entered the room betrayed the tumult in my soul, I can-
not disbelieve. She did not seem to notice it, however, but bade me welcome
in a cheerful voice. It was the voice of an angel, my father ! I took her hand,
and as I felt her pulse my own hand trembled violently ; I hardly dared to ask
the few ordinary questions put by a doctor ; I could not trust myself to speak.
I think she must have known this, for when my hand trembled she seemed to
notice nothing, but continued to talk quite cheerfully to put me at my ease.

" Her illness had made her more charming than ever : it softened her
features and gave her that expression of weakness, of reliance on another, which
men do not dislike in a woman Have you noticed this, my father?"

" Possibly. But continue, my son."

" I prepared for the operation by turning back that part of the loose dress
that covered her arm. As I pressed the vein to render it more prominent,
her attendant, who stood beside me and had been observing my face, re-
marked—

" ' Surely M. Festeau is unwell to-day. Had not Mademoiselle better defer
the operation, seeing that he appears out of sorts .-' *

" Her mistress took no notice of this except to answer —

"' I confide myself entirely to M Festeau, who is and has been my very
good friend, and who I am sure would never do me an injury.'

" What I stammered in answer I do not know. It seemed to me that some
hidden meaning lay beneath her words. My hand shook sadly. And then — I
can hardly speak, even now, of what happened then."

" Go on, my son."

" My father, the next thing I remember was that I saw the red blood spurting
and knew what I had done. I started back crying —

" ' I am of all men the most unfortunate ! I have opened an artery instead
of a vein ! '

" I strove with all my knowledge to remedy the evil that I had done. And
if I cannot describe to you my distraction, I can still less describe her composure.
It was wonderful — wonderful. In three days the state of her arm had grown so
serious that I, as well as the other surgeons, saw that we must amputate it.
She never reproached me once. Had she done so, I might, perhaps, have
borne it better. She never spoke one peevish word, but even tenderly desired
that I should not be absent from any consultation on the treatment of her case ;

M. FESTEAU'S BLUNDER.

89

and what is more, she cowed the bitter words and black looks of her friends in
my presence.

" Her arm was amputated. Alas ! It was no good. In less than twenty-
four hours appeared symptoms which I knew, fatally enough, numbered her
hours on earth. She read her doom in our faces, and entreated us to tell her
the truth. Our anguish was a sure answer. She caused her will to be made
and prepared quite fearlessly for death.

^- ... '-<-^ " \

"FATHER MARTIN

WAITED FOR THE NEXT WORD

" A few hours before she died, she sent to say that she wished to see me.
No criminal stepping to the scaffold can suffer as I suffered then. I stood before
her bed. She was sinking fast, but had still strength enough to pronounce
these words, every one of which has remained in my heart to this hour : —

" 'My friend, I cannot express my concern for the sorrow with which I see
you overwhelmed, although you tried to hide it from me. I am leaving this
life ; to all intents I have already left it ; and so what should I do but think
and act as one who has no further concern with it ,'' At this moment, trust me.

9«>

THE CORNISH VOTER.

I feel no anger, no resentment. I do not look on you as one by whose mistake
I have lost my life ; rather have you hastened my knowledge of a glorious
immortality. But the world may look upon the accident, which for your sake
alone I call unfortunate, and mention it to your disadvantage. And so I have
provided in my will against anything you may have to dread from prejudice
and misrepresentation,'

"These were her words, my father ; but her look, how shall I describe it?
Can you wonder now at the fifty years I have passed in this place ? That she
should have died by the hand of that poor wretch who, of all others, loved her
the most — and whom she loved, my father ! For as I am sure of forgiveness
I know "

Father Martin, kneeling by the bedside, waited for the next word. When,
after a second or two, none came, he looked up, and rising to his feet, covered
the dead brother's face.

III.— THE CORNISH VOTER.

During one memorable election, long before the first Reform Bill was passed,
the borough of Grampound, in Cornwall, was in a ferment. This magnificent
constituency numbered thirteen voters, all told ; and as the result of a public-
house quarrel, it was extremely doubtful whether the Ministerial or the Opposi-
tion candidate would be elected. In fact, as the time drew near, it began to be
evident that the voice of one John Pascoe would form quite an appreciable
fraction in what Mr. Carlyle calls the "national palaver." For, the side issue of
a decayed right of pasturage having been started by some astute Whig in
competition with the affairs of the nation at large, constituents ranged them-
selves on either side, and John, who simply couldn't understand the pasturage
question, though it had been explained to him a dozen times at great length
by each of the dozen voters, found himself at the end of it in the possession of
no convictions and an enviable casting-vote.

John — or Jan, as he preferred to be called (for like most great men he was
modest) — was not puffed up unduly with this proud possession. Indirectly he
found it of the greatest use as a passport to free beer. He drank every day
at the expense of each voter and both the candidates with frank impartiality,
and listened to their arguments, with attention, merely drawing his sleeve across
his mouth when the pint mug was drained ; or (if the speaker were too deeply
occupied with his logic) turning it upside-down and drumming with it ab-
stractedly on the table. Nay, more, whereas the twelve fellow-constituents
could not feast him together, as well from the dangers of an overheated discus-
sion as from a local prejudice against sitting down thirteen at table, the two
opposing factions feasted him on alternate days and carried him home on alter-
nate nights. In short, not a day passed without Jan's being the nucleus of a
political demonstration.

THE CORNISH VOTER. 91

On the whole he liked the life, and said so with pleasing frankness.
Naturally, however, his enjoyment of the passing hour was tempered with some
consideration that all things have an end. The day was drawing near when
he would have to decide on the gentleman to represent him in Parliament ;
and meanwhile, if the truth must be told, when he seemed to be listening to his
advisers, he was really considering with which party he could make the most
advantageous terms.

Some days before the election, the Ministerial candidate had an inspiration.
He wrote a letter and sent it to Lord Newcastle.

This nobleman and minister, besides being '* eaten up with zeal for the House
of Hanover," was remarkable among his contemporaries for his reckless profusion
in promises. It is said that he particularly prided himself on being able to
read with the naked eye the wants of the various persons who attended his
levees, before they had time to utter a syllable. The duke read his candidate's
letter ; considered ; found that it was necessary to hold the borough of Gram-
pound ; cursed ; packed up his things, and determined to interview John Pascoe
in person.

He did so. For one whole day John Pascoe hob-nobbed with a duke, and
before evening emptied more pint pots than next day he could well count. He
was reminded, however, to go to the poll ; and within a few hours it was known
that the Ministerial cause had won a zealot and the Grampound election

The duke left early next morning, but not before he had seen John again ;
poured forth acknowledgments and promises ; called him his dearest (and,
perhaps, his oldest) friend ; swore that he would consider himself for ever in
his friend's debt ; that he would serve him by night and day ; and wanted to
know if John could suggest a wish that needed fulfilment.

John suggested more beer.

It was brought, and the duke pressed him to name a further desire.

John would have liked a permanant casting-vote : but this seemed im-
practicable. So he scratched his head, thanked the duke for his kindness, and
said that he would like William his son-in-law to have the post of Super-
visor of Excise in those parts, if his Grace would say a good word to the
Commissioner. .

" Certainly. Do I understand the post is vacant } "

John admitted that it was " not azackly vacant." But the present supervisor
was old and infirm, and not likely to live much longer.

" Then you wish the reversion .-' "

John intimated that he wanted " nowt o' the sort, but just the super-
visorship."

" Ah, that is what I mean. My dear friend, why ask for such a trifling em-
ployment } Your relative shall have it the moment it is vacant."

John admitted that this would make him the friend of the Government for
life, but doubted astutely.

9r THE CORNISH VOTER.

" How be I to make sure ? For I reckons in Lunnon 'tes another matter \vi'
you great folks. Down here 'tes glasses all round an' hail fellow — well met ;
but up there ef a cat wants to look at a king she must have her eyes about."

" The very instant the man dies," said the prime Minister, " you must set
out post-haste for London ; drive straight to my house, by night or by day,
sleeping or waking, dead or alive — pound at my door : I will leave word with
my porter to show you upstairs at once, and the post shall be disposed of as
you wish — I promise you,"

The duke drove away, never thinking to see John Pascoe again — at least
not until the next contested election. But John, possibly from having less to
think about, was more mindful, A few months afterwards the supervisor died,
and the Cornish voter, relying on his Grace's word, promptly started for London
by the mail ; and arriving late at night at the metropolis, drove straight to the
duke's house, and ascending the steps, knocked loudly at the door.

Now it so happened that on this particular night the Duke of Newcastle
had been sitting up, anxiously expecting despatches from Madrid. For at the
very time when Grampound was lamenting its late Supervisor of Excise, Europe
was hourly expecting the death of the King of Spain ; and it was of the
utmost importance that the British minister should hear the intelligence as
soon as possible after his Majesty's decease. Shortly after midnight, however,
the duke grew very sleepy and finally retired to bed, leaving strict orders with
his porter to sit up, as he was hourly expecting a messenger of the greatest
importance. "When he comes," said the duke, "show him up to my room at
once : do you hear ? — at once."

The duke went off to bed ; the porter settled himself comfortably in his
chair. The duke was already asleep and dreaming, the porter nodding drowsily,
when a stout ash stick rattled at the front door, and continued vigor-
ously until the porter threw back the bolts. On the threshold stood John
Tascoe.

" Es the Dook o' Newcas'le inside .-'"

" Yes," answered the porter, *' and in bed ; but he left special orders that
whenever you came you should go up to him directly."

" God bless 'un for a proper gen'l'm'n ! " John Pascoe nodded at the porter
triumphantly. " Never tell me that great folks don't keep their word ! "

The porter led the way, and John followed, soliloquising —

"' Any time, night or day, asleep or awake, dead or alive' — that's business !
Bless 'un for a true friend, I say. But I knawcd he wadn' desayve me, Et goes
to my heart to wake 'un, too ; for precious little sleep he gets, I warrant."

His Grace's door was opened and John was ushered in.

"Hullo !" cried the duke, starting up, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awake
from dreaming of the King of Spain, " Hullo ! Is he dead ? ''

*• Iss, my lord : dead as nails," said John ; and thought to himself, " Why I do
believe he's been a-dreamin' of me. He knawed me to once""

" THE PrKE TORE ASIDE THE CURTAIN.' (p. 94-)

94 THE CORNISH VOTER.

"When did he die?"

" Day afore yestiddy, at ha'f arter two azackly by the town clock."

" The day before yesterday ! You have come all that way since the day
before yesterday ? " cried the minister, wondering at the possibility of hearing
news from Madrid in so short a space of time.

John smiled, and opined that " It were smartish work."

"How did he die?"

" Powerful hard, my lord ; powerful hard. You see, three weeks agone come
Michelmas Day he tuk to hes bed, and they kept 'un goin' 'pon milk an' a
power o' doctor's stuff, an' stuck a blister roun' by the back o' his ear ; but
'twarn't no use, an' he's a-gone, an' I hopes you'll let my son-in-law William
succeed him, 'cos he's a steady young man, es William, an'

" Succeed him ! Succeed the King of Spain ? Are you drunk, or mad, or
am I dreaming ? Where are the despatches ?"

The duke leapt up in bed, tore aside a curtain to see more clearly, and
instead of the courier he expected, beheld John Pascoe, bowing and scraping,
hat in hand, and smiling away with the extremest good-humour.

There was a pause as the situation dawned upon the minister, At first he
cursed very heartily and profusely ; but as the absurdity of the circumstances
overcame his chagrin, he lay back in the bed and had to give way to his
laughter. John, though entirely puzzled, laughed from sympathy ; and next
day went back to Grampound with the appointment in his pocket.

95

of them.

THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

T the general peace of 1814, France regained the African settlements
which extended from Cape Blanco to the mouth of the Gambia ; and
on the 17th of June, 1816, the frigate Medusa, of 44 guns, with three
other vessels, sailed from the port of Rochefort to take possession
There is no need to recount the history of the voyage. M. de Chau-
mareys, who commanded the frigate, was a commander who added obstinacy
to absolute incompetence; and his crew consisted of four hundred men, the
greater number of whom were ready to mutiny on the slightest provocation
The result was that the frigate, after parting company with her three consorts,
ran upon the bank of Arguin, on the north of the Senegambian coast, where,
after two days spent in vain attempts to get her off, a storm arose which broke
her back. The rudder was unshipped, and as it still held to the stern chains,
became a battering-ram, which ruinously crashed on the doomed vessel with
every fresh wave ; and to make matters yet worse, a mutiny broke out at the
most critical moment, and all order on board was completely lost.

Consequently the crew took to the boats in the utmost confusion. As the
boats were not sufficient to contain all the crew, a raft was rigged up which
they calculated to carry one hundred and fifty persons. But in a hurry it
was most inadequately provisioned. Of wine, indeed, it had more than enough,
but not a single barrel of biscuit. A bag containing twenty-five pounds of
biscuit was thrown from the vessel at the moment of departure, but its contents
were reduced to pulp by the salt water, and this was all the food upon which
the hapless navigators of the raft had to rely.

The embarkation was a disorderly scramble. Two hundred and thirty
persons were stowed away in the six boats ; and a hundred and twenty-nine
soldiers and officers, with twenty-nine sailors and passengers, and one woman,
found a place on the raft. Seventeen men were abandoned on the wreck, most
of them too drunk to be moved. At the last moment M. Correard, an engineer
who should have gone in one of the boats, but heriocally refused to desert his
men on the raft, called to one of the officers that he would not start unless
the raft were supplied with charts and instruments The officer answered that
they were all provided, and that he himself was coming on board the raft to
navigate her. M. Correard never set eyes on this man again.

The boats pushed off on the morning of July 15th, the coast being then
not fifteen leagues distant. It was settled that they should take the raft in tow.

96 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

and so they started. But after rowing two leagues, the cowards in the boats
began to take counsel. It washard work pulling that raft, and really it was
a question if such trouble need be taken. Presently a cry arose, " Let's leave
them " — " Let go the tow-rope ; " and, after a minute or so, one boat actually
did so. The captain made no effort to reprove the action, and the infection of
cowardice spread. One by one the boats sent the tow-rope adrift. "Well,
well," they said, " we can easily say that it broke."

At first the wretched men on the raft could not believe the fact that their
eyes witnessed. They imagined that the boats must have seen some vessel on
the horizon, and were hastening for succour. But at length the ghastly truth
broke on them, and in their frantic indignation, mad with fear, they swore to
cut to pieces whomsoever of their comrades they overtook. There was little
chance of accomplishing their threat. Death — imminent death — stared them
in the face. Their floating death-bed was but twenty metres in length, and
seven in breadth, and of this, so flimsy was the construction, only the centre was
safe — a space that barely afforded standing-room for twenty men. It had been
rigged up from the masts and yards of the Medusa. The groundwork was solid
enough, and had been securely lashed together : but the breast-work was frail,
and two-thirds of the raft liable to constant submersion. And what happened
on this awful voyage shall be told in the words of a survivor : —

"When the boats disappeared, the dismay was terrible. Thirst and famine,
with all their terrors, rose before our eyes and appalled us ; and the sea already
washed the half of our bodies. The soldiers gave themselves up to despair;
seeing death before them, they broke out into groans and lamentations ; nor
could anything we said at first avail to calm them. But at length by showing
a firm countenance we brought back some tranquillity, and then began to look
about for charts, the compass, and the anchor, which, from what had been
said to us when we quitted the frigate, we imagined to be on board. Alas !
We had none of them !

" The want of a compass in particular dismayed us ; and we broke out into
yells and cries for vengeance. All at once, M. Correard remembered that one
of his workmen carried a small compass, and asked the man for it. ' Yes, yes,'
said he, ' I have it with me.' The news transported us with joy ; for the first
time we began to dream of safety. It was about the size of a crown-piece,
and far from correct ; but no one who has not been in our case can imagine
with what joy we looked upon it. Alas ! and alas ! It was given to the com-
mander of the raft, and in a few hours we lost it. It fell between the interstices
of our raft, and we lost it for ever. Henceforward we had nothing to guide us
but the rising and setting of the sun.

"We had all left the frigate without breaking our fast, and now we began
to be very hungry. So we mixed our biscuit-paste with a little wine and dis-
tributed it. This was our first meal, and the best we had the whole time we
were on the raft. Our rations of wine we now fixed at three-quarters of a pint

THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

97

a day. We shall say no more of the biscuit — the first distribution consumed
that. But we still hoped. The day passed over very quietly, for we sat and
talked of the means of saving ourselves. We never doubted that we should
be saved ; and we kept up the spirits of the soldiers promising them vengeance
upon the cowards who had deserted us.

*' M. Coudin, who commanded our raft, being unable to move, M. Savigny

the young surgeon

caused the pole of

one of the frigate's

masts to be cut in

two, and on this h(

the maintop-gallant

shrouds and stays we made ' j"-

out of the disused tow-rope.

This sail of ours trimmed pretty well, but

was of very little use, as it only served

when the wind came from behind, and our the boats rowing away

raft kept always aslant — perhaps from the excessive length of the cross-pieces

which projected on either side.

" In the evening we prayed hopefully to heaven — and one consoling thought
still pleased our imaginations We conjectured that the boats had sailed for
the Isle of Arguin, and once there would lose no time in returning to our
assistance. This idea, which we tried to inspire generally, put a stop to the

98 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

clamour of the soldiers and sailors. The night came on, and with it the wind
freshened and the sea rose considerably. What a fearful night it was ! At every
shock of the sea the people pitched against each other, rolling this way and
that. M. Savigny, with a few who yet retained their wits, contrived to fasten
some ropes to pieces of the raft. The men took hold of them, and so held on
when the great waves came washing over. At midnight the weather grew worse
and worse. The seas lifted us and dashed us down upon the raft again with
every billow, the cries of the people mingled with the roar of the waters ; and
to add to the horror, the night was pitch-black.

"At one time we thought we descried lights in the distance, and made
signals by burning some charges of powder, and even letting off some pistol-
shots ; for we had taken the precaution to hang gunpowder and pistols at the
mast-head. But we were mistaken, after all ; it was but the white and phos-
phorescent gleam of the breakers. So throughout the night we fought on
against death, holding fast by the ropes, rolled by the waves from the back to
the front, from the front to the back, and sometimes flung over into the sea,
suspended between life and death, doomed, yet still fighting for life. So we
fared until daybreak — with no sound in our ears but the howling of sea and
wind, but shrieks and groans, oaths, sobbings, farewells, and vows to God.

" About seven in the morning the storm abated a little. But as the day
dawned, what a sight was revealed in the sickly light! Ten or twelve poor
wretches, their legs entangled in the lattice-work of the raft, had broken their
limbs, and so perished horribly. There they were, hanging out into the waters.
At breakfast we called the roll and missed twenty men. We will not swear
that this was the exact number missing, for we found afterwards that some of
the soldiers, in order to have more than their rations, answered twice and even
thrice. We were so many crowded together that it was impossible to prevent
these abuses.

"Amid these horrors there was yet room for tears. Two young men had
discovered their aged father trampled into insensibility beneath the feet of the
soldiers. By the most assiduous care they had restored him to life, and were
now holding him in their arms. At the same time two lads and a baker took
a final farewell of their friends and flung themselves overboard to be drowned.
Already the minds of these people were giving way. Some fancied they saw
land, others that they descried vessels bearing down to save us ; and both
announced their discoveries with loud cries and clapping of hands. Now, if
ever, the boats would be coming back to help us. As the day grew sunny
and warm, we sat with our eyes on the horizon, expecting every moment to
perceive a sail.

" The minutes passed into hours, but no help came. As night again drew
on, despair indeed weighed on us ; and now the soldiers began to grow
mutinous, and to yell with fury at their officers As the darkness came down,
the sky became murky with thick clouds ; the wind, too, which all day had

THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 99

been rather high, rose in fresh fury, and the sea, swelling up, drove the raft
impetuously before it. Mountains of water covered us at every moment, and
broke violently in our midst. We were obliged to keep to the centre, the
more solid part of the raft, and those who could not get there perished almost
to a man. Fore and aft the waves dashed them, sweeping them overboard in
spite of all their resistance. And at the centre the crowd was such that many
were stifled by the weight of their comrades, who tumbled upon them at every
moment. The officers clustered round the mast, calling to the men to move
this way or that ; for the wave which took us nearly athwart, gave our raft a
position almost perpendicular, so that to balance it we were obliged to run to
the side tossed up by the sea.

" And now the soldiers and sailors indeed gave themselves up for lost.
Convinced that they would be swallowed up, they wished only to die drunk,
and so drown the horror of dying. We had not strength to oppose them
They fell upon a cask that stood in the centre of the raft, staved in one end,
and filling their tin cups, drank until the salt water rushed in and spoiled the
wine . Inflamed with drink and crazed with terror, they swore to rid themselves
of their officers, who, said they, would not join in their design of destroying
the raft. An axe was called for, and the cry was to cut the ropes and perish
all together. A Malay soldier, of giant stature and hideous features, now
advanced to the edge of the raft with a boarding-axe, and began to cut at the
cords. We advanced to hinder him ; he threatened to kill the officer that in-
terrupted him, struck out right and left with his fist, and overthrew all who
opposed him. A sabre-blow cut him over as his axe was lifted ; but had there
been half a dozen like him, our doom would have been sealed.

" The subaltern officers and passengers now rushed to arms. The mutineers
drew their sabres or got out their knives and advanced upon us. One lifted
his sword, and though we were but twenty against a hundred and more, he
instantly fell, pierced with wounds. Still they threatened us, and showing a
front bristling with sabres and bayonets, retreated to the back of the raft
Here one of them, pretending to rest against the breastwork, began with his
knife to hew at the ropes. We rushed upon him. A soldier tried to defend
him, and threatened one of our officers with his knife. Indeed, he attempted
to stab him, but only pierced his coat ; and the officer, turning round, pitched
him and his comrade headforemost into the sea.

"After this there were no more half-measures. The fight spread. Some
one cried, * Lower the sail ! ' and instantly a crowd of madmen flung themselves
on the yards and shrouds, cut the stays, and toppled over the mast. In its
fall it nearly broke the thigh of a captain of foot, and stretched him senseless.
The mutineers seized him and flung him into the sea ; we, perceiving it, saved
him and set him on a barrel. Again the villains laid hold of him, and were
going to cut out his eyes with a penknife, when, driven beyond endurance,
we charged them furiously. With drawn gabres we hacked them down, and

100 THE RArr OF THE "MEDUSA."

many atoned for a mad hour with the loss of their lives. Several of the
passengers behaved with admirable coolness and courage.

" M. Correard, roused from a kind of trance by the curses of the wounded
and the cries of ' Aux armes ! Aux armes, comarades ! ' *A nous ! ' ' Nous somvies
perdus /' jumped to his feet, assembled his workmen in the fore part of the
raft, and stood on the defensive. Every moment they were attacked by drunken
men armed with knives, sabres, bayonets, and clubbed carbines ; and at length
were driven to use their arms without reserve, especially as many of their
adversaries, falling into the sea, swam round to the fore part of the raft, climbed
up, and took them in the rear.

" During this combat, one of the workmen, named Dominique, joining the
rebels, was hurled over into the sea. Immediately M. Correard, forgetting the
treachery of the man, jumped in after him at the place where the voice of
the wretch had just been heard calling ' A moi !' and seizing him by the hair
contrived to drag him on board again Dominique had received several sabre-
wounds, which we found, notwithstanding the darkness and tumult, and
contrived to bind up. Nevertheless, as soon as he was recovered, this wretch
rejoined the pack of mutineers, and directly after was cut down by us and
fell dead.

" At the moment when we had finished dressing the wounds of Dominique,
another voice was heard. It was that of the one poor woman who was on
the raft with us. She was a sutler, and had been thrown into the sea
together with her husband, who defended her with great courage. There she
struggled for life, frantically invoking our Lady of Laux. M. Correard, in
despair at seeing the two unfortunates perish, seized a large rope, tied it round
his waist, and a second time threw himself into the sea, whence he was so
happy as to rescue her, whilst her husband was at the same time saved by the
chief workman, Lavillette. We seated these two poor people upon dead bodies,
with their backs against a barrel. In a icw minutes they recovered their
senses. The first thought of the woman was to inquire the name of him who
had saved her : and doubtless thinking that words could not express her
gratitude, she felt in her pocket and produced a small packet of snuff — it was
all she had in the world. This she pressed on M. Correard, who handed it to
a poor sailor ; and this fellow subsisted upon it for four days. Nor is it easy
to describe the joy of the sutler and her husband on finding themselves safe
again in each other's arms. 'You do well to save me,' said the delighted old
woman to the workmen ; ' I was in all the Italian campaigns ; for twenty-four
years I followed the Grand Army ; I feared not death ; I helped the wounded,
I brought them brandy, whether they had money or not. In battle, at times,
I lost some of my debtors. But the survivors always paid me double ; so I,
too, shared in every victory.'

" The mutineers now let us alone for awhile, some of them falling at owr
feet and asking pardon, which was granted. But at midnight, soon after we

i-HE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

101

had returned to our post at the centre of the raft, they broke out again, and
bein^ now more sober, were also more dangerous. They attacked us, and we
charged in our turn, so that the raft was quickly covered with dead bodies.
Those who had no arms attempted to tear us with their teeth, and some among
us were cruelly bitten. M. Savigny was bitten in the legs and shoulder. Our
clothes were pierced in many places by knives and sabres. Four of the
mutineers seized a workman and were going to toss him into the sea ; one of

*' ' AUX AEMES ! AUX ARJIES ! * ''

them was biting him cruelly in the sinew above the heel, and the others were
beating him with sabres and clubbed carbines. His cries made us fly to his
aid, and again Lavillette distinguished himself in the rescue. In a moment or
two, however, they had seized another, Sous-Lieutenant Lozach, whom they
mistook for Lieutenant Danglas, the object of their especial hatred, on account
of some harshness which he had shown them when in garrison at the Isle of
Rhe. Poor Lozach was with difficulty rescued, and now the cry was all for
'Danglas! Danglas!' They saw him everywhere, and furiously and without
cessation demanded his head, although M. Danglas was in the boats, and leagues
away from us. They seized M. Coudin, who was holding in his arms a sailor-
boy, only twelve years old, and resting against a barrel. The pair with the
barrel were heaved overboard. Nevertheless, M. Coudin held on to his burden,
and seizing the raft, pulled himself back. It was a dreadful night.

iMjiifiMvm^iiMivvW/r.pgg

--■.■-.-.■W^^^.

■Mir .is» -Ml ■ ^.

102 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

" But though we resisted the mutineers, let it not be thought that we
preserved our reason unimpaired. An irresistible lethargy fell upon one, in which
pictures of the most lovely woodland and all delightful scenes passed before
the mind. If men gave way to this, presently they became furious, or calmly
drowned themselves, saying that ' they were going for assistance, and would
soon return.' Some would rush with drawn sabres among their comrades, and
demand bread or the wing of a fowl. Others called for hammocks, or saw
imaginary ships passing ; others again saw a harbour and a gorgeous city that
seemed to rise out of the air. M. Correard fancied himself travelling over the
plains of Lombardy. One of the officers said, ' I know the boats have deserted
us, but never fear. I have sent a carrier-pigeon to the governor, and it will
be all right.' When we awoke in the morning, we could scarcely believe but
that the horrors of the mutiny also were but a part of our dreams.

'•But daylight told us the truth. Over sixty men had perished in the
mutiny, at least a fourth part of whom had drowned themselves in despair.
We of the loyal party had lost only two, and neither of them officers. Many
were wailing aloud and shedding tears at the rigour of our fate. But a new
misfortune was soon discovered : the rebels had thrown into the sea two of the
wine-casks, and both the casks of water. One of these latter, indeed, we re-
covered ; but the sea-water had got into it, and it was quite spoiled. We had
only one cask of wine left, and as we were now above sixty in number, we at
once put ourselves on a half-allowance.

"At daybreak the sea grew calm, and once more we set up our mast.
Whether it were illusion or not, we fancied we saw a line of shore in the dis-
tance, and felt the burning air of the Sahara upon our cheeks. It is very likely
that we were not far distant from it, for the wind from sea had blown violently ;
but in the sequel we spread the sail indifferently to every breeze that blew, so
that one day we approached the coast, and on the next ran into the open sea.

" When the mast was set up, we distributed the wine, amid the curses of
the soldiers, who accused us as the cause of their tortures. We, however, though
we had not tasted food for forty-eight hours, bore up bravely. Courage alone
made us act. We collected tags from the men and bent them into hooks for
fishing ; but the currents carried them under the raft, where they were
entangled. We bent a bayonet to catch sharks ; but a shark bit it, and
straightened it. We tried to eat sword-belts and cartouch-boxes ; some gnawed
their linen, others the pieces of leather in their hats ; but it was little good^
though we managed to swallow some morsels.

".The day was calm and fine ; but no assistance came. And during the
night that followed, ten or twelve more of our number died We gave their
bodies to the sea for a grave, and with eyes that made one shudder to look
into them, hungrily watched their gradual disappearance beneath the waves.

" Again the day was fine, and about four in the afternoon some consola-
tion came to us. A large shoal of flying-fish passed under the raft and were

THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 108

entangled in great numbers between its interstices. The men caught near on
two hundred, and threw them into an empty cask after opening them and
devouring the milt at once. This food seemed delicious to us ; but a man would
have wanted a thousand. Yet we thanked God for this goodness.

" An ounce of gunpower had been found in the morning, and dried in the
sun during the day ; a steel, some gun-flints and tinder were also found. With
infinite trouble we managed to set fire to some pieces of dried linen, which we
put on a barrel that the sea-water might not extinguish the flame. Here we
dressed some fish, but so little that we all craved for more. The officers ate
human flesh on this day, for the first time. The others had begun on the day
before. Our barrel soon took fire, and the powder and tinder were also
consumed. But our meal gave us fresh strength, and the night that followed,
being calm, might even have appeared happy, had it not been signalised by a
new massacre.

" Some Spaniards, Italians, and negroes, who had remained neutral in the first
mutiny, now conspired, under a Piedmontese sergeant, to fall on us during the
night and throw us all into the sea. The negroes, tempted by a bag containing
fifteen hundred francs and some other valuables, which was hung on to the mast,
had assured the rest of these wretches that the coast was close at hand, and
promised them that once on shore, they could guide them to a place of safety
The sailors, however, remained faithful to us, and discovered the plot. The first
signal for combat was given by a Spaniard who, posting himself behind the
mast, crossed himself, invoking God with one hand, and drew his knife with the
other. This man the sailors overpowered and threw into the sea Immediately
an Indian, a servant of one of the officers, caught up a boarding-axe, wrapped
himself in a piece of canvas, and flung himself after his comrade. The
mutineers rushed forward to avenge their comrades, and a wild and desperate
fight followed. Soon again the raft was piled with dead bodies, and slippery
with blood. The old cries were resumed, and again the mutineers shrieked for
the head of Lieutenant Danglas ; again the poor sutler woman was tossed over-
board, and again rescued. At length the mutineers were driven back and
cowed, and the officers dropped almost at once upon the bloody timbers and
fell asleep.

"The fifth day rose upon us, and found but thirty left, and of these not
above twenty could stand or walk. The salt water had almost entirely
excoriated our lower extremities. We were covered with wounds and bruises,
which, irritated by the salt waters, wrenched from us the most piercing cries.
We had no more wine than was sufficient for four days, and there was not
above a dozen fish left. 'In four days,' said we, ' we shall be in want of every-
thing, and death will be certain.'

" On the seventh day, two soldiers slipped behind our only barrel of wine.
They had bored a hole in it, and were drinking by means of a reed. We had
all sworn that any man found tampering with this wine should be put to death ;

Hp^nas

«i .- - - - « .^ «^^w^.«*^ -^ m -M m <M

104 THE RAFT OF THE " MEDUSA."

this law we now put into execution, and the two trespassers were hurled into
the sea.

" This same day died the boy Leon, whom M. Coudin had rescued. His
sweet face, his pretty voice, and the bravery he had shown ( for he had already,
through only twelve years old, been through a campaign in the East Indies),
all made him the darling of the regiment. He died away at first, like a lamp
that goes out for want of nourishment. We gave him all our care, but in vain-
He went mad at last, running continually from one side of the raft to the
other, calling for his mother, for water, and for food. In this state he trod
heedlessly over the feet and legs of his companions in misfortune, in such
sort that often they would yell with anguish. Yet they seldom cursed,
and never menaced him ; and at last he died, quite quietly, in the arms of
M. Coudin.

" We were thus but twenty-seven in number, and of these all but fifteen
were covered with wounds and were delirious. Yet they had their share in the
distribution of provisions, and might, before their death, consume thirty or forty
bottles of wine, which were of inestimable value to us. We debated therefore —
and God knows in what despair — and at length resolved to throw the sufferers
into the sea. Among these were the sutler woman and her husband. She had
a broken thigh, and the man was cruelly wounded in the head. Three soldiers
and a sailor were the appointed executioners. The rest of us hid our faces
and wept as the hideous task was done. Afterwards we threw overboard all
arms except one sabre only, which might be of service for cutting a rope or
shaping a spar.

"There was now scarcely sufficient food to last us for six days, and these
were the most wretched that can be imagined. On the ninth day a new event
happened which for awhile diverted our despair. All at once a white butterfly,
of the species so common in France, appeared, to the joy of every one, fluttering
over our heads, and settled on the sail. We hailed the little creature as the
harbinger of news that land was near, and we snatched at this hope in a kind
of delirium of joy. Some of the soldiers watched it with feverish c}'es, and
would have fought for it as food ; but the rest declared that no harm should
be done it, swearing that it was God's messenger. Next day we saw more
butterflies, and some sea-birds. These latter we tried to allure towards us ; but
all our trouble was vain. We also employed ourselves in raising a kind ol
platform in the centre of the raft out of some planks which we loosened from
the lore part. Upon this we placed all the effects which we could collect. On
this platform the waves still broke over us indeed, but less violently. Here we
sometimes passed the hours in telling stories to each other. The old soldiers
who had fought under Napoleon had a store of exploits to relate ; and the
dauntless Lavillette was the foremost at this amusement. We were prepared to
die, it will be seen, but also to meet death with resignation.

" At this time a raging thirst, redoubled in the daytime by the beams of

THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA,"

105

the burning sun, consumed us incessantly. We tried to quench its pangs by-
drinking sea-water. M Griffon, the governor's secretary, continually did so. He
would drink ten or twelve glasses in succession ; but by this means our thirst
was only stayed for a moment, and then became more severe. One officer found

"THE WRECK OF 'LA MEDUSA.

by chance a little lemon, and tried to keep it to himself; but the rest fought
for it, and would have killed him had he not yielded. We also disputed over
some dirty cloves, which had been discovered in a little bag. At another time
we came on two small phials of tooth-water. The lucky possessor kept them
carefully, and made much ado about pouring one or two drops of this liquid into
the hollow of a comrade's hand. The stuff produced a delightful sensation in
the mouth. Some of us found pieces of pewter, and with these strove to keep
our tongues cool. Misfortune, in fact, made us ingenious. It also made the
smallest agreeable sensation a supreme happiness. Thus we were for ever

^ — ^ M' :M di

,«. v^^J**^,^ "^ '^

106 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA."

passing from hand to hand a small phial which had once contained attar of
roses, and would inhale with delight the perfume still clinging about it. A few
took their wine through quills ; in our state the smallest quantity often produced
intoxication.

"On the tenth day five of the men declared that they would drown them-
selves. It was all we could do to dissuade them, and it seemed as though a
fresh mutiny would arise, when suddenly the raft was surrounded by a shoal
of sharks, and we all flew to beat off the intruders. With our only remaining
sabre Lavilette struck at these monsters time after time, but for a long while
they were only beaten off to return again.

" Three days passed in unspeakable anguish. So heartily did we despise life
that many of us did not fear to bathe in sight of the sharks around. A kind of
polypus was often driven in great numbers on the raft, and when their long
arms clung to our naked bodies they caused us the most cruel sufferings. Yet
some of us could indulge in pleasantries. One man said —

" 'If the brig is sent to look for us, God give her the eyes of Argus' —
alluding to the brig that had sailed with them from Rochefort. We always
expected that this would be the vessel sent to look for us, as we talked of her
continually.

"During the i6th, as we thought ourselves to be near land, eight of the
most determined of us resolved to build a small raft and row for the coast.
We took a strong spar and nailed boards across it at small intervals ; in front
we fixed a little mast and sail. We intended to provide ourselves with oars
made out of barrel-staves. When our machine was finished, it remained to
make a trial of it. A sailor, wanting to pass from the front to the back of it,
finding the mast in his way, set his foot on one of the crossboards ; the weight
of his body made it upset, and this accident proved to us the risk of our enter-
prise. We let the new raft drift away, and determined to await death in our
present situation.

" The morning of July 17th rose pure and cloudless. We had now been
twelve days on the rait, and we had just prayed to Almighty God — as we
always did before dividing the wine — and each man was tasting with delight
the small portion that was to last him through the day, when a captain of
infantry looking towards the horizon, suddenly descried a ship.

'• ' The brig ! ' he cried. ' Look ! the brig ! '

" A great shout of joy broke from us. Wc could sec that she was a brig,
though only the tips of her masts were visible. We straightened some hoops
of casks, and tied to them handkerchiefs of different colours. A man, assisted
by us all together, mounted to the top of the mast and waved these little flags.
For above half an hour we hung between hope and fear. ' It is growing larger I '
cried one. ' No,' another would wail, * it is going away fiom us ! ' And then,
all at once, the brig disappeared.

" Wc sank upon the raft and cave way at last. All was lost now, and we

THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 107

said to ourselves, 'When all the wine is gone, and our strength gone too, we
will wrap ourselves up as well as we can, and laying ourselves down on our
platform, wait for death.' We made a small tent out of the sails still left to
us ; and when this was put up we all lay down under it, so that we might
not see what was passing around us, and be deluded again by false hope. We
agreed to inscribe on a board the account of our adventures, sign it, and fasten
it to the mast, so that if ever the raft with our corpses upon it should be picked
up, the French Government and our families should learn our fate. We then
tried to sleep off the agony of our minds.

" We had lain thus for some time, when the master-gunner, who had feebly
lifted up the flap of the sail, looked out. We were awakened by a scream of
joy. We looked. His face was transfigured ; his hands were stretched towards
the sea ; he scarcely breathed. All he could manage to whisper was —

' ' ' Saved ! See, the brig is close upon tis ! '

" Yes, there she was, at most half a league from us. Her white sails were
spread, and she steered directly for us. We embraced each other ; we wept
for joy ; we knelt and prayed and gave God thanks aloud. We seized hand-
kerchiefs and waved them to the brig ; even those whose feet were so sorely
wounded that they could not stand, crawled to the edge of the raft to bathe
their eyes in the sight of the deliverers.

" Straight before the wind came the brig, and the white flag of France flew
from its fore-masthead. We knew then that it must be the Argus, and we
thanked God for that, too : that our rescuers were of our own country. She
came near and lay-to on our starboard, within half a pistol-shot. Her crew,
ranged on the deck and in the shrouds, waved handkerchiefs and fired pistols
to announce the good tidings. A boat was immediately hoisted out ; an ofiicer
of the brig, one M. Lemaigre, stepped into it and took the command. Nothing
could exceed the tenderness he showed. And in a short time we were all on
board the Argus. Pity was painted on every face, and compassion drew tears
from all who cast eyes on us."

Here our tale may end. But the visitor to the Louvre in Paris will see
on its walls a picture by Gericault, ghastly and wild in colouring, but fascinating
for all that. It represents a raft, half submerged by the sea, piled with a
jumble of dead bodies and living men, some raving, some abandoned to gloomy
despair, but all emaciated and wasted with suffering. On a barrel, a negro is
frantically waving to a distant brig, and around him a mass of half-naked
men cling and point and struggle to look towards deliverance The picture's
name is "The Wreck oi La Meduse\" it was painted in a studio crowded
with corpses, for no living man could serve as model for one of those awful
figures ; and it tells one of the most shameful stories in the history of France.

w^immmimmmmmm

i& ^ ^ A ^

"A YOUNG WOMAN WHOM THE SOLDIERS WEEK DRAGGING BEFORE THEIR

LIEUTENANT." (/. IO9 )

SOME EPISODES OF WAR.

I. A TRAGEDY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.

URING the war in Spain a French regiment had been sent out from
Burgos against a guerilla party under the Marquis of Villa Campo,
with orders to treat the Spaniards with the most rigorous severity,
especially the inhabitants of Arguano, a little village near the
famous forest of Covelleda, whose deep shades, intersected only by narrow foot-
paths, were the resort of banditti and guerillas. A principal feature of the whole
Spanish war was the celerity with which the French movements were notified
to the native chiefs, and the difficulty experienced in procuring a spy or guide ;
while these when found proved almost uniformly treacherous

The battalion in question had to march through a frightful country, climbing
rugged rocks and crossing frozen torrents, always in dread of unforeseen and
sudden dangers. They reached the village, but perceived no movement —
heard no noise. Some soldiers advanced, but saw nothing — absolute solitude
reigned.

The officer in command, suspecting a ambush, ordered the utmost circum-
spection. The troops entered the street, and arrived at a small opening where
some sheaves of wheat and Indian corn and a quantity of loaves were still

A TRAGEDY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.

109

smoking on the ground, but consumed to a cinder, aud swimming in floods ot
wine, which had streamed from leathern skins that had evidently been purposely-
broached, as the provisions had been burnt, to prevent their falling into the
hands of the French.

No sooner had the soldiers satisfied themselves that, after all their toils and
dangers, no refreshment was to be obtained, then they roared with rage — but
no vengeance was within reach ! All the inhabitants had fled ! — fled into the
forest, where they might defy pursuit.

Suddenly cries were heard issuing from one of the deserted cottages, amongst
which the soldiers had dispersed themselves in hopes of discovering some food
or booty ; they proceeded from a young woman holding a child a year old in
her arms, whom the soldiers were dragging before their lieutenant.

"Stay, lieutenant," said one of them ; "here is a woman we have found
sitting beside an old one who is past speaking : question her a little."

She was dressed in the peasant costume of the Soria and Rioja mountains,
and was pale, but not trembling.

" Why are you alone here ? " asked the lieutenant in Spanish.

" I stayed with my grandmother, who is paralytic, and could not follow the
rest to the forest," replied she haughtily, as if vexed at being obliged to drop
a word in presence of a Frenchman ; " I stayed to take care of her."

" Why, have your neighbours left the village .''"

The Spaniard's eyes flashed fire ; she fixed on the lieutenant a look of
strange import, and answered, ** You know very well. Were they all not to be
massacred .-' "

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. " But why did you burn the bread
and wheat, and empty the wine-skins ? "

" That you might find nothing. As they could not carry them off, there was
no alternative but burning them."

At this moment shouts of joy arose, and the soldiers appeared carrying a
number of hams, some loaves, and, more welcome than all, several skins of
wine — all discovered in a vault, the entrance of which was concealed by the
straw that the old woman was lying on. The young peasant darted on
them a look of infernal vengeance, while the lieutenant, who had pondered
with anxiety on the destitute and sinking condition of his troops, rejoiced for a
moment in the unexpected supply. But the recent poisoning of several cisterns,
and other fearful examples, putting him on his guard, he again interrogated
the woman.

" Whence come these provisions ?"

" They are the same as those we burnt ; we concealed them from our
friends,"

" Is your husband with the brigands yonder ? "

" My husband is in heaven," said she, lifting up her eyes ; " he died for the
good cause — that of God and King Ferdinand."

'«..«,-« Mjtm^^M

M W^-iTM^i

no A TRAGEDY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.

" Have you any brother amongst them ? "

" I have no longer a tie, except my poor child ;" and she pressed the infant
to her heart. The poor litt'ie creature was thin and sallow, but its large black
eyes glistened as they turned to its mother.

" Commander,'' exclaimed one of the soldiers, "pray order division of the
booty, for we are hungry and devilish thirsty ! "

" One moment, my children. Listen," said he, eyeing the young woman
with suspicious inquisition ; "these provisions are good, I hope .'"'

"How should they be otherwise ?" replied the Spaniard contemptuosly ;
" they were not for you."

" Well, here's to thy health, then, Demonia," said a young sub-lieutenant,
opening one of the skins, and preparing for a draught ; but his more prudent
commander still restrained him.

" One moment. Since this wine is good, you will not object to a glass ? "

" Oh dear, no, as much as you please ; " and accepting the mess-glass offered
by the lieutenant she emptied it without hesitation.

" Huzza ! huzza 1 " shouted the soldiers, delighted at the prospect of drinking
without danger.

" And your child will drink some also ? " said the lieutenant ; "he is so pale,
it will do him good."

The Spaniard had herself drunk without hesitation, but in holding the cup
to her infant's lips her hand trembled ; the motion was, however, unperceived,
and the child also emptied his glass.

Thereupon the provisions speedily disappeared, and all partook both of food
and wine. Suddenly, however, the infant was observed to turn livid ; its features
contracted, and its mouth, convulsed with agony, gave vent to piteous shrieks.
The mother, too, though her fortitude suppressed all complaint, could scarcely
stand, and her distorted features betrayed her sufferings.

" Wretch i " exclaimed the commandant, " thou hast poisoned us ! "

" Yes," she said, with a ghastly smile, falling to the ground beside her child,
already struggling with the death-rattle — " yes, I have poisoned you. I knew
you would fetch the skins from their hiding-place ; was it likely you would leave
a dying creature undisturbed on her litter } Yes, yes, you will die, and die in
perdition, while I shall go to heaven."

Her last words were scarcely audible, and the soldiers at first did not com-
prehend the full horror of their situation ; but as the poison operated, tlie
Spaniard's declaration was legibly translated in her convulsed features. No
power could longer restrain them ; in vain their commander interposed ; they
repulsed him, and, dragging their expiring victim by the hair to the brink of
the torrent, threw her into it, aft»r lacerating her with more than a hundred
sabre-strokes. She uttered not a groan. As for the child, it was the first victim.

Twenty-two men were destroyed by this exploit, which cannot be called
otherwise than heroic. The commandant himself escaped by a miracle.

I )A 1 \^\ .w

"•YES, I HAVE POISONED YOU'" (p. no).

* ^4 «■•«'■'«'> a"-' A**"'^*^'«-« J*. .« « m

'k i^ 'M M ^

112 HOW A FORT WAS TAKEN.

II. HOW A FORT WAS TAKEN.

In 1756 Admiral Watson, having sailed with the squadron and the King's
troops from Fort St. David, in the East Indies, to the assistance of Calcutta,
stopped at Mayapore, on the banks of the Ganges, where the enemy had a
place of considerable strength, called the Bougce Fort, which it was necessary
to secure before he proceeded on his expedition.

The action began with a brisk cannonade from the squadron, which soon
silenced the cannon of the fort ; but the garrison not offering to surrender, and
continuing to discharge fire-arrows and small-arms, it was determined in a
council of sea and land officers that Colonel Clive should endeavour to take it
by assault. For this purpose, at five in the evening, the Admiral landed an
officer, two midshipmen, and about forty sailors from each ship, under the
command of Captain King, to assist Clive in storming the fort ; which he in-
tended doing just before daylight, under the cover of two twenty-four pounders
close to the ditch. In the meantime the colonel had given directions that the
whole army (the necessary guards excepted), and the detachment from the
ships, should rest on the ground, in order to recover themselves as much as
possible from the great fatigues they had undergone the preceding day.

All was now quiet in the camp. We on board the ships, that lay at their
anchors at but a small distance from the shore, had entertained thoughts of
making use of this interval to refresh ourselves also with an hour or two of
sleep, when suddenly a loud and universal acclamation was heard from the
shore ; and soon after, the account was brought to the Admiral that the fort
had been taken by storm.

This was a joyful piece of news, and the more so as it was quite unexpected ;
but when the particular circumstances that ushered in this success were
related, our exultation was greatly diminished, because we found that the
discipline so indispensably necessary in all naval exploits had been entirely
disregarded in the present instance, and therefore could not help looking upon
the person who had the principal hand in this victory rather as an object of
chastisement than of applause.

The case was this : — During the tranquil state of the camp, one Strahan, a
common sailor, belonging to the Kent, having just received his allowance of
grog, found his spirits too much elated to think of taking any rest. He
therefore strayed by himself towards the fort, and imperceptibly got under
the walls. Being advanced thus far without interruption, he took it into his
head to scale a breach that had been made by the cannon of the ships :
and having fortunately reached the bastion, he there discovered several
Moors sitting upon the platform, at whom he flourished his cutlass and
then fired his pistol, and, having given three loud huzzas, cried out, *' The
place is mine ! "

*.'' it>

HOW A FORT WAS TAKEN.

"3

<»

The Moorish soldiers immediately attacked him, and he defended himself
with incredible resolution ; but in the encounter he had the misfortune to have
the blade of his cutlass cut in two, about a foot from the hilt. This, however,
did not happen until he was warmly supported by two or three other sailors
who had accidentally straggled to the same part of the fort on which the other
had mounted. They, hearing Strahan's cries, immediately scaled the breach

' 'THE PLACE IS MINe! ' "

likewise, and with their triumphant shouts roused the whole army, who,
taking the alarm, presently fell on pell-mell, without order and without discipline,
following the example of the sailors.

This attack, though made in such confusion, was followed with no other ill-
consequence but the death of the worthy Captain Dougall Campbell, who was
unfortunately killed by a musket bullet from one of our own pieces in the
general confusion. Captain Coote commanded the fort for that night, and at
daybreak the fort saluted the Admiral.

Strahan, the hero of this adventure, was soon brought before the Admiral,
who, notwithstanding the success that had attended it, thought it necessary to
show himself displeased with a measure in which the want of all naval

i 'ti « ^'i'^^^^^l^^m^m^M'J^JU^J^J^■'"

114 THE COVENANTER.

discipline so notoriously appeared. He there-fore angrily inquired into the
desperate step which he had taken —

" Strahan, what is this that you have been doing ? "

The sailor made his bow, scratched his head with one hand, and, twirling
his hat in the other, replied, " Why, to be sure, sir, it was I who took the
fort ; but I hope, your honour, as how there was no harm in it."

The Admiral with difficulty refrained from smiling at the simplicity of
Strahan's answer, and having expatiated largely on the fatal consequences that
might have attended his irregular conduct, with a severe rebuke dismissed
him, but not before he had given Strahan some distant hints that at a proper
opportunity he would be certainly punished for his temerity. Strahan, amazed
to find himself blamed where he expected praise, had no sooner gone from the
Admiral's cabin than he muttered to himself, '' If I am flogged for this here
action, I'll never take another fort by myself as long as I live."

The novelty ot the case, the success of the enterprise, and the courageous
spirit which he had displayed, pleaded strongly with the Admiral on behalf of
the offender, and yet at the same time the discipline of the service required
that he should show him outwardly some marks of his displeasure. This the
Admiral did for some little time, but afterwards, at the intercession of some
officers (which intercession the Admiral himself prompted them to make), he
most readily pardoned him. And it is not improbable that, had Strahan
been proper qualified for the office of boatswain, the Admiral, before the
expedition had ended, would have promoted Strahan to that station in one of
His Majesty's ships ; but, unfortunately for this brave fellow, the whole tenor
of his conduct, both before and after the storming of the fort, was so very
irregular as to render it impossible for the Admiral to advance him.

Strahan subsequently served in every one of Admiral Pocock's engagements
in the West Indies, and afterwards, in consequence of a wouud, became a
pensioner to the Chest at Chatham. '• At present," says the writer of the above
account, which is taken from the Naval Chronicle "he acts as a sailor in
one of the guardships at Portsmouth, and says that his highest ambition
is to be made cook of one of Hio Majesty's capital ships ! "

ra.— THE COVENANTER.

Our next episode is taken from " Peden's Life," and the scene is laid in
Scotland, at the date of Bothwell Brigg and the merciless persecution of the
Covenanters by Graham of Claverliouse.

'• One morning, in those evil days, a man of the name of John Brown,
having performed the worship of God in his family, was going with a spade
in his hand to make ready some peat-ground. The mist being very dark,
he knew not where he was, till the bloody Claverhouse compassed him with
three troops of his horse, brought him to his house, and there examined him.

THE COVENANTER. 115

"John Brown, though a man of stammering speech, yet answered him
both distinctly and solidly, which made Claverhouse examine those whom he
had taken to be his guides through the moors, if they had heard him
preach. They answered, * No, no, he was never a preacher.' To which
he replied, ' If he has never preached, meikle has he prayed in his time.' He
then said to John, ' Go to your prayers, for you shall immediately die.'

"When he was praying, Claverhouse interrupted him three times. One time
that he interrupted him he was praying that the Lord would spare a remnant,
and not make a full end in the day of His anger. Claverhouse said, ' I gave you
time to pray, and you are begun to preach.' He turned on his knees and said,
' Sir, you know neither the nature of prayer nor preaching, that call this
preaching ;' and then continued without confusion.

" His wife standing by, with her children in her arms, he came to her and
said, ' Now, Marion, the day is come that I told you would come when I first
spoke to you of marrying me.' She said, * Indeed, John, I can willingly
part with you.' Then he said, * This is all I desire ; I have no more to do but
to die.'

" He kissed his wife and bairns, and wished purchased and promised
blessings to be poured upon them, and gave them his blessing. Claverhouse
ordered six soldiers to shoot him. The most part of the bullets came upon his
head, which scattered the brains upon the ground. Then said Claverhouse to
the hapless widow, * What thinkest thou of thy husband now, woman.'' To
which she answered, ' I thought ever much of him, and now as much as
ever.' He said, ' It were but justice to lay thee beside him.' She replied, • If
ye were permitted, I doubt not your cruelty would go that length ; but how
will ye mak answer for this morning's work ? ' ' To men,' said he, * I can be
answerable ; and for God, I will take Him in mine own hand.'

** Claverhouse mounted his horse and left her with the corpse of her dead
husband lying there ; she set the bairn on the ground, and gathered his brains,
and tied up his head, and straightened his body, and covered him with her
plaid, and sat down and wept over him. It being a very desert place, where
never a victual grew, and far from neighbours, it was some time before any
friends came to her. The first that came was a very fit hand, that old singular
Christian woman in the Cummerhead, named Elizabeth Menzies, three miles
distant, who had been tried with the violent death of her husband at Pentland,
afterwards of two worthy sons — Thomas Weir, who was killed at Drumclog ;
and David Steele, who was suddenly shot afterwards when taken. The said
Marion, sitting upon her husband's grave, told me that before this she could
see no blood but she was in danger to faint ; and yet she was helped to be a
witness to all this without either fainting or confusion, except, when the shots
let off, her eyes were dazzled. His corpse was buried at the end of the house
where he was slain."

^ '4'^ '1 & 4k A i^ m JSf j^"^

xz6

A DESPERATE ERRAND

THE ADVENTURE OF GRIZEL COCHRANE.

T Edinburgh, almost under the shadow of the spire of St. Giles's, in
the pavement between that old cathedral church and the County
Hall, the passer-by will mark the figure of a heart let into the
causeway, and know that he fs standing on the "Heart of Mid-
lothian," the site of the old Tolbooth. That gloomy pile vanished in the
autumn of 1817 ; as Mr. Stevenson says, "the walls are now down in the dust ;
there is no more squalor carceris for merry debtors, no more cage for the old
acknowledged prison-breaker ; but the sun and the wind play freely over the
foundations of the gaol ;" this place, "old in story and name-father to a noble
book.'' The author of that same " noble book " possessed himself of some
memorials of the keep he had rendered so famous, securing the stones of the
gateway, and the door with its ponderous fastenings to decorate the entrance of
his kitchen-court at Abbotsford. And this is all that is left.

But in the summer and autumn of 1685 the Tolbooth held prisoners enough,
notwithstanding the many gloomy processions that were from time to time
walking to the axe and halter in the Grassmarket ; and in a narrow cell, late
one August evening, two persons were sitting of whom this story shall treat.
These two were Sir John Cochrane, of Ochiltree, and his daughter Grizel — here
on the saddest of errands, to visit her father in prison and help in his prepara-
tions for death.

For Sir John, a stout Whig, had been one of the leaders of Argyle's
insurrection ; had been beaten with his troops by Lord Ross at Muirdykes;
had disbanded his handful of men, and f^ed for hiding to the house of his
uncle, Mr. Gavin Cochrane, of Craigmuir ; had been informed against by his
uncle's wife, seized, taken to Edinburgh ; had been paraded, bound and bare-
headed, through the streets by the common executioner ; and then on the 3d
of July flung into the Tolbooth to await his trial for high treason. And now
the trial, too, was over, and Sir John was condemned to die.

As he now sat, with bowed head, on the bench of his cell, it was not the
stroke of death that terrified him — for Sir John was a brave man — but tha
parting with his children, who would through his rashness be left both orphaned
and penniless ( for the Crown would seize his goods ), and chiefly the parting
with his daughter, who had been his one comfort in the dark days of waiting
for the King's warrant of execution to arrive.

Between his apprehension and his trial no friend or kinsman had been

A DESPERATE ERRAND.

117

allowed to visit him ; but now that his death was assured, greater license had
been granted. But, anxious to deprive his enemies of a chance to accuse his
sons, he had sent them his earnest entreaties and commands that they should
abstain from using this pcrmisson until the night before his execution. They
had obeyed ; but obedience of this sort did not satisfy the conscience of his
daughter Grizel. On the very night of his condemnation he heard the key
turn in his door ; thinking it could only be the gaoler, he scarcely lifted his
eyes But next moment a pair of soft arms were flung round his neck, and
his daughter weeping on his breast. From that day she had continued to visit
him ; and now as she sat beside him, staring at the light already fading in
the narrow pane, both father and daughter knew that it was almost the last time.

Presently she spoke —

" And this message — tell me truly, have you any hope from it ? "

It was an appeal made by Sir John's father, the Earl of Dundonald, to
Father Peters, the King's confessor, who often dictated to him, as was well
known, on matters of State. But in the short time left, would there be time
to press this appeal, and exert that influence in London which alone could stay
the death-warrant ?

" There is no hope in that quarter," said Sir John.

Grizel knew that he spoke only what was her own conviction, and her
despair.

" Argyle is dead these three days," pursued her father, " and with him men
of less consequence than I. Are they likely to spare me — a head of the rising >
Would they spare any man now, in the heat of their revenge ?"

"Father," said Grizel suddenly, "could you spare me from your side for a
few days .'' "

Sir John looked up. He knew by her manner that she had formed some
plan in her mind ; he knew, too, from her heart, that nothing but a chance of
winning his safety could take her from him now, of all times.

" My child," he said, " you are going to attempt something."

She nodded, with a brighter face than she had worn for many days.

" And what you would attempt," he went on, " is an impossibility."

" Nothing is impossible to a true heart," she said.

" And who will help you .'' "

" No one." She was standing before him now, and in the twilight he could
see her eyes lit up with hope, her figure upright, and as if full of a man's
strength.

" My girl, you will run into danger — into blame. They will not spare you,
and: — do you know the characters of those men whom you would have to sue .-* "

She bent and kissed him.

" I am a Cochrane, my father."

Early next morning, before the world was up, Grizel Cochrane was mounted

M <M "^^ ifii ^ ^ .^ >^^.^*^.Ar

m 1

^^ m

ii8 A DESPERATE ERRAND.

on horseback and riding- towards the border. She had dressed herself — this girl
of eighteen — as a young serving-woman, and when she drew rein at a wayside
cottage, for food and drink, professed herself journeying on a borrowed horse to
visit her mother's house, across the Tweed,

By noon Edinburgh was some leagues behind, but she pressed on through

that day and most of the
following night. On the
second day after leaving
Edinburgh she crossed the
Tweed, and came in safety
to the home of an old
nurse, on the English side,
four miles beyond the
town of Berwick.

" Gude sakes ! " cried
the old woman, who was
standing at her cottage
door and was rather
astonished to find the
horsewoman draw rein,
leap to the ground, and
plant a kiss on either cheek
— " Gude sakes ! if it isna
Miss Grizel I "

" Quickly, into the

house ! " commanded her

young mistress ; "I have

somewhat to tell that

will not wait an hour."

She knew the old nurse was to be trusted, and therefore told her story and

her secret. "Even now," she said at the end of her story, "the postman is

riding from London with the warrant in his bag. I must stop him and make

him give it up to me, or my father's head is the penalty."

" But what use to talk o' this, when the postman is a stout rider, and
armed to boot .-^ How is a mere girl, saving your presence, to do this at all ?"
"Look here."

Grizel uuroUed a bundle which she had brought on her saddle-crutch from
Edinburgh ; it held a horseman's cloak and a brace of pistols.

" Now," said she, " where are the clothes of Donald, my foster-brother .'' He
was a slight lad in times syne, and little doubt they'll fit me."

For this was indeed the brave girl's plan : — In those times the mail from
London took eight days on its journey to Edinburgh ; by possessing herself of
the warrant for her father's death and detaining it, she could count on the

"SHE PULLKD OUT THE I'lSI'OLS" (/. I20).

A DESPERATE ERRAND.

119

delay of sixteen or seventeen days at least before application could be made
for a second, and that signed and sent to the Scotch capital. By this delay,
time enough would be won for her friends in London to use all their influence
to quash the sentence.

It was a mad scheme ; but, as she had said, nothing is impossible to a true
heart. She had possessed herself, too, of the minutest information with regard
to the places where the postmen rested on their journey. One of these places,
she knew, was a small inn kept by a widow on the outskirts of the little town
of Belford. There the man who received the bag at Durham was accustomed
to arrive at about six in the morning, and take a few hours' sleep before
going on with his journey. And at Belford, Grizel Cochrane had determined
to meet him.

Taking leave of her faithful nurse, she rode southwards again, and, timing
her pace, drew up before the inn at Belford just an hour after the postman
had come in from the south and disposed himself to sleep.

The mistress of the inn had no ostler, so Grizel stabled her horse with her
own hands, and striding into the inn-parlor, demanded food and drink.

" Sit ye down, then," answered the old woman, "at the end of yon table,
for the best I have to give you is there already. And be pleased, my bonny
man, to make as little noise as may be ; for there's one asleep in that bed that
I like ill to disturb."

She pointed to the victuals on the board, which were indeed the remains
of the sleeping man's meal. Grizel sat down before them, considered to herself
while she played with a mouthful or two, and then asked —

•' Can I have a drink of water ?"

" 'Deed," answered the hostess, "and are ye a water-drinker.? 'Tis but an
ill-custom for a change-house."

" Why, that I know ; and so, when I put up at an inn, 'tis my custom always
to pay for it the price of stronger drink, which I cannot take."

" Indeed — well, that's fairly spoken ; and, come to think of it, 'tis but just.'
The landlady brought a jug of water and set it on the board.

" Is the well where you got this water near at hand .-* " said Grizel, pouring
out a glass and sipping at it ; *' for if 'tis no trouble to fetch some fresh for
me, I will tell you this is rather over-warm and flat. Your trouble shall be
considered in the lawing," added she.

" 'Tis a good step off," answered the dame ; " but I cannot refuse to fetch
for so civil, discreet a lad — and a well-favored one, besides So bide ye here,
and I'll be as quick as I maun. But for any sake take care and don't meddle
with the man's pistols there, for they are loaded, the both ; and every time I
set eyes on them they scare me out of my senses, almost."

She took up a pitcher and went out to draw the water. No sooner was
Grizel left alone than, starting up, she waited for a moment, listening to the
footsteps as they died away in the distance, and then crept swiftly across the

jAf wi. -r....

I20 A DESPERATE ERRAND.

floor to the place where the postman lay asleep. He lay in one of those close
wooden bedsteads, like cupboards, which were then common in the houses of
the poor, and to this day may be seen in many a house in Brittany. The door
of it was left half-open, to give the sleeper air, and from this aperture the noise
of his snoring issued in a way that shook the house.

Nevertheless, it seemed to the girl that he must be awakened by the
creaking of the floor under her light footfall. With heart in mouth she stole
up to the bedstead, and gently pulling the door still wider ajar, peeped in, in
the hope of seeing the mail-bag and being able to pounce upon it.

She saw it, indeed ; but to her dismay, it lay beneath the shaggy head of
its guardian — a giant in size. The postman used his charge as a pillow, and
had flung himself so heavily across it as to give not the faintest hope that
any one could pull it away without disturbing its keeper from his nap. Nothing
could be done now. In those few bitter moments, during which she stood
helplessly looking from the bag which contained the fatal warrant to the
unconscious face of the man before her, Grizel made up her mind to
another plan.

She turned to the table, caught up the postman's holsters, and pulled out
thr pistols of which the old woman had professed herself in such terror.
Quickly drawing and secreting the charges, she returned them to their cases,
with many an anxious look over her shoulder towards the bedstead, and took
her seat again at the foot of the table.

Hardly had she done so when she heard the old woman returning with the
pitcher. Grizel took a draught, for her throat felt like a lime-kiln, and having
settled her bill, much to the landlady's satisfaction, by paying for the water the
price of a pot of beer, prepared to set off. She carelessly asked and ascertained
how much longer the other guest was likely to sleep.

" By the noise he makes he intends sleeping till Doomsday," she said,
laughing.

" Ay, poor man ! his is a hard life," said the hostess ; " and little more than
half an hour more before he must be on the highway again,"

Grizel laughed once more, and, mounting her horse, set off at a trot along
the road southward, as if continuing her journey in that direction.

Hardly had she got beyond the town, however, when turning the horse's
head she galloped back, making a circuit around Bclford and striking into the
high road again between that place and Berwick. Having gained it, she walked
the horse gently on, awaiting the coming up of the postman.

Though all her mind was now set on the enterprise before her, she could
not help a shiver of terror as she thought on tiie chance of her tampering
with the pistols being discovered, and their loading replaced. But she had
chosen her course, and now she must go through with it. She was a woman,
after all ; and it cannot be wondered that her heart began to beat quickly as
her ear caught the sound of hoofs on the road behind her, and, turning, she saw

A DESPERATE ERRAND.

I2t

ihe man on whose face she had been gazing not an hour before, trotting briskly
towards her — the mail-bags (there were two — one containing the letters direct

"'THAT MAIL I MUST AND WILL HAVE. CHOOSE, THEN*" ( /. 122).

from London, the other those taken up at the different post-offices on the
road) strapped one on each side of his saddle in front, close to the holsters.
At the last moment her nerve came back, and as he drew near she saluted

A a- ^ &'^:j^^'J^^^j^ .

:M ' ■£

122 A DESPERATE ERRAND.

him civilly and with perfect calmness, put her horse into the same pace with
his, and rode on for some way in his company.

The postman was a burly, thick-set man, with a good-humored face. You
may be sure that Miss Cochrane inspected it anxiously enough, and was relieved
to find that it did not contain any vast amount of hardy courage.

The man was well enough inclined for conversation, too, and as they rode
had a heap of chat, which it seemed a pity to interrupt. At length, however,
when they were about half-way between Belford and Berwick, Grizel judged
now or never was the time. Pulling her horse's rein gently so as to bring
her close to her company, she said in a low but perfectly determined voice —

" Friend, I have taken a fancy for those mail-bags of yours, and I must
have them ; therefore take my advice, and deliver them up quietly, for I am
provided for all hazards. I am mounted, as you see, on a fleet horse ; I carry
fire-arms ; and, moreover, I am allied with those who are stronger, though not
bolder, than I. You see that wood, yonder .-'" she continued, pointing to one
about a mile off, with an accent and air meant to corroborate her bold words.
" Then take my advice : give me up your bags, and speed back the road you
came for the present, nor dare to approach that wood for at least two or three
hours to come."

The postman, whose eyes had been growing rounder and rounder during
this speech from the stripling beside him, pulled up and looked at her in dumb
amazement for some moments.

" If," said he, as soon as he found his tongue, "you mean, young master, to
make yourself merry at my expense, you are heartily welcome. I can see a
joke, I trust, as well as another man ; so have your laugh out, and don't
think I'm one to take offence at the words of a foolish boy. But if," and here
he whipped a pistol from his holster and turned the muzzle on her face —
"ify'are mad enough to think seriously of such a business, then I am ready
for you."

They had come to a stand now, in the middle of the road ; and Grizel felt
an ugly sinking at the heart as she looked at the mouth of the pistol, now
not a yard from her cheek. Nevertheless she answered, very quietly and
coolly —

" If you have a doubt, dismiss it ; I am quite in earnest."

The postman, with his hand on the trigger, hesitated.

" Mcthinks, my lad, you seem of an age when robbing a garden or an old
woman's fruit-stall would befit you better, if so be you nmst turn thief, than
taking His Majesty's mails upon his highway from a stout and grown man.
So be thankful, then, you have met with one who will not shed blood if he
can help it, and go your way before I am provoked to fire."

"Sir," said Grizel, "you are a worthy man ; nor am I fonder of bloodshed
than you ; but if )-ou will not be persuaded, what shall I do .'' For I have
said — and it is truth — that mail I must and will have. Choose, then ; '' and

A DESPERATE ERRAND 123

with this she puiied out a pistol from under her cloak, and, cocking it, presented
it in his face.

" Nay, then, your blood be on your own head," cried the postman, and
raising his pistol again he pulled the trigger ; it flashed in the pan. Dashing
the weapon to the . ground, he pulled out the other in a moment, and aiming
it in Grizel's face, fired — with the same result. In a furious passion he flung
down this pistol, too, sprang from his horse, and dashed forward to seize her.
She dug her spurs into her horse's flank and just eluded his grasp. Meanwhile
the postman's horse, frightened at the noise and the struggle, had moved
forward a pace or two. The girl saw her opportunity, and seized it in the same
instant Another dig with the spurs, and her own horse was level with the
other ; leaning forward she caught at the bridle, and calling to the pair, in
an instant was galloping off along the highway, leaving the postman helplessly

itarmg.

She had gone about a hundred yards with her prize, when she pulled up
to look back. Her discomfited antagonist was still standing in the middle of
the road, apparently stupefied with amazement at the unlooked-for turn which
affairs had taken. Shouting to him to remember her advice about the wood,
she put both the horses to their speed, and on looking back once more was
gratified to find that the postman, impressed with the truth of her mysterious
threat, had turned and was making the best of his way back to Belford.

On gaining the wood to which she had pointed, Grizel tied the postman's
horse to a tree, at a safe distance from the road, and set about unfastening the
straps of the mail-bags. With a sharp penknife she ripped them open, and
searched for the Government despatches among their contents. To find these
was not difficult, owing to their address to the Council in Edinburgh, and
of the imposing weight of their seals. Here she discovered, not only the
warrant for her father's death but also many other sentences inflicting punish-
ment in varying degrees on the unhappy men who had been taken in the
late rising. Time was pressing ; she could not stop to examine the warrants,
but, quickly tearing them in small pieces, placed them carefully in her bosom.

This done, and having arranged all the private papers as far as possible as
she had found them, Grizel mounted her horse again and rode off. The
postman's horse and the mail-bags, she imagined, would soon be found, from
the hints which she had given to the man about the wood — and this after-
wards proved to be the case. She now set her horse at a gallop again, and
did not spare whip or spur until she reached the cottage of her nurse, where
her first care was to burn, not only the warrant for her father's death, but
the remainder of the sentences on his fellow-prisoners. Having satisfied herself
that all trace of the obnoxious papers was now consumed, she put on again
her female garments, and was once more the gentle and unassuming Miss
Grizel Cochrane.

It w^as high time, however, to be making her way northwards again ; ac-

124 A DESPERATE ERRAND

cordingly she left her pistols and cloak to be concealed by the nurse, and again
set forward on her journey. By avoiding the high-road, resting only at the
most sequestered cottages — and then but for an hour or so — and riding all
the while as hard as she might, she reached Edinburgh in safety early next
morning.

It remains only to say that the time thus won by this devoted girl was
enough to gain the end for which she strove. Instigated by a bribe of ,£5,000
from Lord Dundonald, Father Peters plied the ear of King James so importu-
nately that at length the order was signed for Sir John Cochrane's pardon.

The state of public affairs rendered it prudent for many years that this
action of Grizel Cochrane's should be kept secret ; but after the Revolution,
when men could speak more freely, her heroism was known and applauded.
She lived to marry Mr. Ker, of Morriston, in Berwickshire, and doubtless w^as
as good a wife as she had proved herself a daughter.

\t

135

A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA

4

•V2S

"GOOTUL, April ^ist.
NOTORIOUS old man-eating tigress, with four cubs, that has be(

the terror of the neighbourhood for some months back, was mark(
down this morning, and almost the whole population of the villaj
turned out to assist in her destruction. As she had the charact
of extreme ferocity, unusual precautions were taken in beating her up, ai
volleys of blank cartridge, with flights of rockets, W'ere thrown into every thii
place, far in advance of the beaters.

" The tigress was soon afoot, and our assistant mahout, who was posted (
a tree to look out, held up five fingers to telegraph, while he shook wi
agitation on beholding the whole family passing close under him. (
reaching the edge of the cover where we were posted, the tigress left her cu
behind, walked out into the plain, and boldly looked the elephant in the fac
laying her ears back, growling savagely, and curling up her whiskered lips wi
a look of indescribable ferocity. Every hair on her back stood erect, her loi
tail switched from side to side like that of an enraged cat, and her glowii
eyes were fixed upon us with a look of fiendish malignity. I never saw a mo
perfect representation of an incarnate fiend ; and I remained for some second
with my rifle poised, studying the magnificent picture which the scene presente
and feeling a sort of reluctance to put an end to it by firing the first shot.

" Every tree and rock was crowded with spectators, watching with anxio
looks anil beating hearts the issue of our contest with their deadly foe. Tl
wild yells of the beaters, the hissing of the rockets, and the rattle of fire-arir
had given place to an ominous silence, like that which precedes the outbre;
of a hurricane ; and no sound was heard save an occasional low, deep grov
which might well be compared to distant thunder that heralds the approachii
tempest. The tigress, in the attitude I have described, and our noble elepha
with his trunk carefully coiled up between his tusks, stood face to face, like tv
combatants who have just entered the lists and scan each other with jealo
looks before venturing to engage in mortal combat.

"The elephant took one step forward, and the tigress, uttering a hoar:
growl, drew herself together as if about to spring. It was now time to ac
and the report of our rifles was answered by an e.xulting shout from tl
spectators, as the tigress, hit in the point of the shoulder, rolled over, tearir
up the earth with her claws in many a fruitless effort to regain her footin
She at last succeeded in doing so, and slunk back into cover. This sh
decided her fate ; and to prevent any accident occurring to mar the spo

126 A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA.

we anticipated when she was brought to close quarters, we ordered the spec-
tators and beaters to betake themselves to trees, where they would be fairly out
of reach.

" ' Anak' was now walked into the thicket, but we had hardly proceeded
twenty yards, when that harsh grating roar that makes the blood curdle,
followed by a despairing shriek, gave us dread warning that some unfortunate
beater had disregarded our caution, and fallen a victim to his temerity. A wild
cry of rage and execration arose from the assembled multitude, many of whom,
from their elevated positions, were enabled to witness the tragedy. But so far
from being awed by the fate of their companion, it was with some difficulty
that we prevented them from rushing in, sword in hand, and hewing the
tigress in pieces, although they well knew in so doing many lives must have
been sacrificed.

" Every exertion was now made to hurry the elephant to the spot. The
maho7it plied his iron goad, and the sagacious brute crashed his way through
the tangled brushwood to the scene of blood. The tigress, enraged by the pain
of her wounds, and roused to madness by the taste of blood, rushed out
and charged the elephant with determined bravery. Our large friend \vith the
trunk did not like it, and wheeling round with a scream of alarm, he shuffled
off at his best trot, jolting the howdah to such a degree that we found it im-
possible to fire, although the tigress was giving chase, open-mouthed, and close
at his haunches.

''ThQ mahoiit at last succeeded in checking his pace to a certain degree,
and just as the tigress was about to spring on his croup, I took a snap shot, and
hit her. This made the savage old beast rather faint, and she lay down to
recover her breath. After some trouble, we succeeded in stopping the elephant,
and coaxed him into returning to stand another charge.

"The tigress lay perfectly still till we were within ten yards, when she
started up with a loud roar and made at us more savagely than ever. She
had hardly got upon her legs, however, when she was knocked over by a volley
from four barrels and completely doubled up.

" The elephant, whose nerves appeared to have been shaken by the first
charge, again turned tail. On returning, after having reloaded, we found the
tigress lying with her head between her paws, ready to receive us. We fired
at her as she was in the act of springing on the elephant's trunk, and a
lucky shot between the eyes rolled her over, dead.

" The fall of this noted tigress was hailed with shouts of triumph by the
amateurs who had watched the whole proceeding from their perches ; and a poor
little herd-boy, whose brother had been devoured a few days before by the tigress
and her cubs, was the first to descend and exult over the prostrate man-eater.

"As the cubs were described as not being larger than a pointer dog, we
commenced a hunt for them on foot, armed with swords ; but the little brutes
had concealed themselves so effectually that we could not find them.

A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA. 12?

" The poor little herd-boy whose brother had been killed was twice before
attacked by this same tigress ; but a herd of fine large buffaloes which he
tended, headed by a sagacious old bull, came at his call and drove her off. He
was close to his brother when she seized him, and actually saw the tigress with
her four cubs feeding off the body. Unfortunately, on this occasion, the
buffaloes were grazing at some distance ; had they heard the boy's cries, or
seen the tigress, they would probably have charged, and beaten her back, for
they had been seen to attack her in a body several times when she ventured
into the open plain ; and the boy said he never feared a tiger so long as his
cattle were near him.

" The natives begged to be allowed to carry home the tigress after their
own fashion, and she was accordingly handed over to them to be dealt with as
they saw fit.

" Having carefully singed off the whiskers, with various superstitious cere-
monies, they placed the body of the tigress, ornamented with garlands of
flowers, upright on a cart, drawn by eight bullocks, and in this state dragged
her in procession through the village, preceded by a band of native musicians
and followed by a crowd of men, women, and children, exulting over the
remains of a deadly foe, and invoking blessings on our heads for having rid them
of her dreaded presence.

" Killing a tiger is at all times a satisfactory exploit. But the death of a
brute like this, such a pest while living, so game in her last moments, is
indeed a glorious victory. Were it not for the melancholy fate of the unfortunate
beater, I should say this is the most satisfactory day's sport I have yet seen in
India. An acccident of this sort is always a sad damper to one's feelings of
triumph ; but we have at least the satisfaction of thinking that it was
occasioned entirely by the poor fellow's own imprudence ; and that by ridding
the country of this dreadful scourge, we have probably been the means of
saving many human lives at the expense of one."

♦<A SPLENDID BUT AWFUL SCENE I'RESENIEU ITSELF'

SAVED AT SEA

I — THE TALE OF THE " GEORGIAN

T was barely a fortnight since I had received my commission, in the

year 1807, as junior lieutenant of H.M.S. D , then on the India

station ( a vacancy having occurred in her under some puzzling
circumstances, unnecessary to describe here, which the Admiralty
decided on as bringing the appointment within their jurisdiction ), and along

SAVED AT SEA. 129

with it a letter from Lord himself, containing a civil hint that if I intended

remaining in the service, and looked for future promotion, the sooner I was off
the better ; a postscript added that as Ihe Warren Hastings (Company's ship)
was appointed to carry out stores to St. Helena, and sailed in eight days, he
had kindly engaged a passage for me, thinking I should be " rather hurried " on
having such short notice to quit, and might not have time to see about it myself.
So, as there was no help for it, I sent my traps down to the ship, and joined
her myself at Northfleet Hope on the day after. We thence proceeded to the
Downs, and anchored in company with a fleet of about forty sail of West

Indiamen and five transports, under convoy of H.M.S. A , waiting for more

moderate weather and a favourable shift of wind.

Wishing to finish some letters, I left the cuddy rather early, and instead of
" dowsing my glim " when the master-at-arms came round at four bells, I sent
him up with a message to the officer of the deck, and continued writing away
in my cabin long after every one else had turned in, with the exception of the
anchor watch, whose quick heavy tramp on deck formed a sweet accompaniment
to the peppering of the rain against the sash, until, pen in hand, I fell into a
sound sleep, whence I was aroused by the sudden report of a gun upon the
larboard quarter, which I immediately concluded to be the commodore making
daylight, supposing that the fleet was no longer wind-rode, but had swung to

the ebb ; for when I came below, the A was lying on our starboard bow.

I was mistaken, however ; the gale was harder than before, and it wanted at
least five good hours of the time.

"Ready with the gun, there, for'ard — Fire! — Hand up the engine from
below ! — Call the captain ! — Pipe both cutters away ! " were the orders I heard
loudly issuing on board of us, followed by a rush up the hatchway ladders and
overhead, as if a man had fallen overboard.

" Hook the yard tackles ! — Turn the hands up ! — Out large cutter ! " thundered
forth the skipper, who was coming out from under the awning just as I reached
the top of the companion ; and in a very short time the boat was swinging in
mid-air, much to the discomfiture of the various live stock in the launch, if
one might judge from the Dutch concert they were kicking up at being with
so little ceremony unroofed.

I sprang into the hammock nettings, and looked around. A splendid but
an awful scene presented itself Broad on our larboard quarter lay the Georgian
transport ; the whole of one side, from the brake of the forecastle to the gang-
way, enveloped in a large sheet of flame, extending as high as her maintop,
and casting round a dazzling glare ; while the blue lights that were continually
burning throughout the fleet served to heighten the effect, by rendering all
our countenances as ghastly and spectral as though we had been inhabitants
of another world, suffered to burst the confines of the grave, and summoned,
during the warring of the elements, to gaze on the misery of the helpless
wretches whose fearful shrieks sounded appallingly, as they reached us at

SMBD AT

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132 SAVED AT SEA.

had anything happened to capsize her bottom upwards, and cant us out, it would
have been but poor fun to know that she swam while we ourselves were sinking.

The lower rigging of the Indiaman was crowded as high, nearly, as the
futtock-shrouds. The eyes of all were intently fixed upon us ; and above two
hundred voices shouted in a breath, " Give v(^ay, my fine fellows! Give w-ay
shipmates — for your lives, give way ! "

But there was one on board that ship who, regarding our progress, shud-
dered at every wave that reared and threatened to overwhelm us and blast her
own fond hopes We saw her form bending over the hammock nettings, her
hands raised to heaven, and heard her voice through the roaring of the gale
as she fervently exclaimed, in a tone that I shall never forget to my dying
hour, " Bless ye, bless ye ! The Father o' the fatherless preserve ye in His
mercy ! Bless ye, bless ye ! " And had not another and a mightier Hand been
stretched forth upon the waters, vain w ould have been the courage or seaman-
ship of the best among us, officer or man.

There being six hands in the cutter besides Driver and O'Kasey, I let the
latter take the bow-oar, and, coiling up my legs, stowed myself away in the head-
sheets as comfortably as circumstances w'ould allow. When within a couple of
ships' lengths of the transport, we saw her mainmast, which was more than half
burned through, and entirely unsupported — the standing rigging being already
consumed or now burning — went with a tremendous crash; its scathed and
scorched topmast, entirely bare of rigging, save a mass of burning cordage just
below the cross-trees ( the flames of which were extinguished in their passage
through the air), was still on-end ; as the spar fell with its head aft, bearing a
little to the larboard hand, it regularly cut under the mizzen-topsail-yard,
shattering the top, striking the crossjack-yard with such violence as to carry
away the slings and bear it down by the run athwart the deck, and,
breaking through the old chafed and worn mizzen-rigging, like so much pack-
thread, it lighted on the taffrail ( which was ground and crushed in an instant
level with the deck), and there rested quietly, with its head projecting some
few feet over the stern. Not ten seconds after, a pale blue phosphoric light,
similar to that which sometimes settles on the flying-jibboom end or mast-
heads of ships within the tropics, sailed flickering along above the deck, and,
gradually descending as it travelled aft, finally took up its station on the main-
topmast-head, and. remaining stationary there, shone steadily out, as if to direct
us where to pull.

We were now rapidly ncaring the Georgian, and Driver, who was steering,
sang out to me to stand by with the boat-hook, and stave off floating pieces
of the wreck, lest we might get a hole knocked in the cutter's bows, at the
same time remarking she was pretty full of water as she was.

"Sure, thin, sor, hadn' we better be afther takin' out the plug and Icttin
it all rin.-*" exclaimed one of the men, a countryman of O'Kasey's, actually
putting his hand down and feeling for the cork.

SAVED AT SEA.

iii

" Lave that plug alone ! " hastily roared the choleric old chap.

It required a quick eye and steady hand on the part of our coxswain
to avoid a bumping match, in which case we should most inevitably have come
off second-best ; but he handled the cutter beautifully, although more than
once she was very nearly thrown broadside-on to the sea, which I thoroughly
expected was going to make a clear
breach over all, and send us to Davy
Jones at once. O'Kasey volunteered
to board the transport, if the boat's
head were brought right underneath
the fallen spar, so that he could
scramble up by the tangled maze ot
rigging which remained. I agreed
to follow him. He kicked off his
shoes ; I tried to do the same with
mine ; but they were originally a
tight fit, and from being successively
soaked, scorched, and wetted again,
stuck to my feet as though they had
been nailed on, and, something like
the negro's pig, the more I pulled the
more they wouldn't come. "I'll cut'
em for you," said O'Kasey, and
suiting the action to the word he
succeeded in divesting me of these
dangerous appendages, at the
expense of having the point of the
knife run about half an inch into my
great toe. It was no time to stand
upon trifles, however.

" There you are, boys — ^jump while
you may, and catch like cats," was the exhortation we received from Driver.

O'Kasey shut his eyes, and, stepping to the gunwale, bounded lightly off like
a Dublin harlequin ; but I kept mine wide open, and, singling out a rope, made
a desperate spring upwards. One convulsive clutch, a strenuous exertion of my
arms, and I was astride the spar and on the transport's deck in the course of
half a minute.

A great oversight had been undoubtedly committed by us all, in not
ascertaining as to where there existed the greatest probability of finding the
child, before we left the ship. Luckily, we espied it under the lee of one of
the carronades, where it had been left and forgotten in the hurry of the
moment, wrapped in a blanket, unhurt by the fall of the mast, and soundly
sleeping amid the roaring of a gale which blew loud enough to wake the dead.

" 'HOULD THE BABBY, THIN ! ' "

134 SAVED AT SEA.

" Can you swim ?" said O'Kasey to me.

"Yes."

" Arrah, hould the babby, thin ! "

" Can you ? "

" Divvle a sthroke ! " replied he, and running out to the mast-head he fear-
lessly flung himself overboard, trusting to the men in the cutter to pick him up-

I looked round for a grating to lash the child to, in case of anything
happening to myself, but none was to be found ; and as I was nearly scorched
to death with the flames, and suffocated with the smoke, I lost no time in
following the young Irishman's example ; and, providentially, we were all three
hooked out and hauled into the cutter without any material damage.

How we ever got near the Indiaman again, God knows. Even as it was,
we fetched a good half-cable's length astern of her. The other ships were still
farther to windward, so she was our only chance, and a very poor one, too — at
least, I thought so.

The men were terribly winded ; the boat was half-full of water, which, of
course, made it so much the heavier to pull. It was perfectly impossible to
bale any of it out, for the biggin was anywhere but where it ought to have
been ; and as to hats — it was a matter of thankfulness that the hair itself was
not blown off our heads.

In this dilemma the same bright idea again struck the acute Irishman, and
laying his oar across for a moment he addressed himself to Driver with " The
plug y'r honour!" But the chief mate was still inexorable ; and, instead of
making any headway, we could now barely hold our own.

Captain S had, however, provided against such an emergency on board

the Indiaman. Some coir rope was stopped with a bit of spun-yarn to the life-
buoy, having a spare end of from ten to fifteen fathoms long, the rest being
coiled clear away on the hen-coops in readiness for veering. The lanyard of the
buoy was then cut — sufficent scope of stray line being first paid out to allow
it to reach the water and drift away without checking — when it came floating
down to us in glorious style. The end of the coir, which was floating on the
surface, and waving about like a snake, was easily caught hold of, and a pretty
severe turn taken with it round one of the hawsers. A hawser, which was then
sent down to us by means of a snatch-block, with a couple of double-headed
shots slung to the hook to keep it steady and accelerate its progress in travel-
ling, was also made fast, and the end on board ( of which there was barely
enough) being brought to the capstan, " Heave ho ! " was the word, and away
went the cutter, foaming and flashing through the waves.

Had not the boat been well and strongly built, she would have been torn
and riven, as O'Kasey expressed it, "into smithereens ;" for long before we
were under ship's stern, the water was up to the rowlocks, and more than
once we were literally dragged right under a sea, but — thanks to the lockers —
with no further damage than a few good salt-water duckings ; and at last we

SAVED AT SEA. 135

had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing the child run up to the driver-boom
end in a basket, and restored alive to the arms of its mother, who was craning
over the taffrails in almost frantic ecstasy.

Thank God ! The deck of the Warren Hastings was soon once more
beneath our feet ; and wet and exhausted as I was, I neither stayed to hear

the fine speech Captain S had prepared for us on the occasion, nor the

flattering encomiums of the lady passengers — many of whom were up in the
cuddy at the time, shedding tears enough to float a jolly-boat ; but staggering
down to my cabin, after fortifying the inward man, I rubbed the outward dry,
and, stripping the sheets off my cot, turned in between the blankets and fell

fast asleep, just as the morning-gun of the A boomed over the water,

announcing to the fleet that daylight had already broke.

II. AN ADVENTURE IN THE " ENDYMION.

On the 13th of October, 181 1, we were cruising in the Endymion, off the north
of Ireland, in a fine clear day succeeding one in which it had almost blown a
hurricane. The master had just taken his meridian observation, the officer of
the watch had reported the latitude, the captain had ordered it to be made
twelve o'clock, and the boatswain, catching a word from the lieutenant, was in
the full swing of his " Pipe to dinner ! " when the captain called out —

"Stop ! stop ! 1 meant to go about first."

" Pipe belay ! Mr. King," smartly ejaculated the officer of the watch, addressing
the boatswain ; which words, being heard over the decks, caused a sudden
cessation of the sounds peculiar to that hungry season The cook stood with
a huge six-pound piece of pork uplifted on his tormentors, his mate ceased to
bale out the pea-soup, and the whole ship seemed paralysed. The boatswain,
having checked himself in the middle of his long-winded dinner-tune, drew a
fresh inspiration, and dashed off into the opposite sharp, abrupt, cutting sound
of the " Pipe belay ! " the essence of which peculiar note is that its sounds
should be understood and acted on with the utmost degree of promptitude.

There was now a dead pause of perfect silence all over the ship, in ex-
pectation of what was to come next. All eyes were turned to the chief.

"No ; never mind, we'll wait," cried the good-natured captain, unwilling to
interfere with the comforts of the men ; " let them go to dinner ; we shall tack
at one o'clock, it will do just as well."

The boatswain, at a nod from the lieutenant of the watch, at once re-com-
menced his merry " Pipe to dinner" notes; upon which a loud, joyous laugh
rang from one end of the ship to the other. This hearty burst was not in the
slightest degree disrespectful ; on the contrary, it sounded like a grateful
expression of glee at the prospect of the appoaching good things which, by this
time, were finding their speedy course down the hatchways.

136 SAVED AT SEA.

Nothing was now heard but the cheerful chuckle of a well-fed company,
the clatter of plates and knives, and the chit-chat of light hearts under the
influence of temperate excitement.

When one o'clock came, the hands were called "About ship ! " But as the
helm was in the very act of going down, the look-out-man at the fore-topmast
head called out —

" I see something a little on the lee-bow, sir ! "

** Something ! What do you mean by ' something ' ? " cried the first lieutenant,
making a motion to the quarter-master at the con to right the helm again.

" I don't know what it is, sir," cried the man ; "it is black, however."

" Black ! Is it like a whale ? " asked the officer, playing a little with his duty_

" Yes, sir,'' cried the the look-out-man, unconscious that Shakespeare had been
before him, " very like a whale ! "

The captain and the officer exchanged glances at the poor fellow aloft having
fallen into the trap laid for him, and the temptation must have been great to
have inquired whether it were not " like a weasel ; " but this might have been
stretching the jest too far ; so the lieutenant merely called to the signal mid-
shipman, and desired him to skull up to the mast-head with his glass, to see
what he made of the look-out-man's whale.

"It looks like a small rock," cried young " Skylark" as soon as he reached
the top-gallant-yard and had taken the glass from his shoulders, across which
he had slung it with a three-yarn fox.

"Stuff and nonsense !" replied the officers, "there are no rocks hereabouts ;
we can but just see the top of Muckish, behind Tory Island. Take another
spy at your object, youngster ; the mast-head-man and you will make it out
to be something by-and-by, between you, I dare say."

" It's a boat, sir ! " roared out the boy. " It's a boat adrift, two or three
points on the lee-bow."

" Oh-ho ! " said the officer, "that may be, sir," turning with an interrogative
air to the captain, who gave orders to keep the frigate away a little that this
strange-looking affair might be investigated. Meanwhile, as the ship was not
to be tacked, the watch was called, and one half only of the people remained
on deck. The rest strolled, sleepy, below ; or disposed themselves in the sun
on the lee gangway, mending their clothes, or telling long yarns.

A couple of fathoms of the fore and main sheets, and a slight touch of the
weather topsail and topgallant braces, with a check on the bow-lines, made the
swift-footed Endymion spring forward, like a greyhound slipped from the
leash. In a short time we made out that the object we were in chase of was,
in fact, a boat. On approaching a little nearer, some heads of people became
visible, and then several figures stood up, waving their hats to us. We brought
to, just to windward of them, and sent a boat to see what was the matter.

It turned out as we supposed ; they had belonged to a ship which had
foundered in the recent gale. Although their vessel had become water-logged,

'SEVERAI, FIGURES STOOP U^" (p. 136.)

IjS SAVED AT SEA.

they had contrived to hoist their long-boat out, and to stow in her twenty-
one persons, some of them seamen and some passengers ; of these, two were
women, and three children. Their vessel, it appeared, had sprung a leak in
middle of the gale, and, in spite of all their pumping, the water gained so fast
upon them that they took to baling as a more effectual method After a time,
when this resource failed, the men, totally worn out and quite dispirited, gave
it up as a bad job, abandoned their pumps, and actually lay down to sleep. In
the morning the gale broke ; but the ship had filled in the meantime, and was
falling fast over her broadside. With some some difficulty they disentangled the
long-boat from the wreck, and thought themselves fortunate in being able to
catch hold of a couple of small oars, with a studding-sail-boom for a mast, on
which they hoisted a fragment of their main-hatchway tarpaulin for a sail.
One ham and three gallons of water were all the provisions they were able to
secure ; and in this fashion they were set adrift on the wide sea The master
of the ship, with two gentlemen who were passengers, preferred to stick by the
vessel while there was any part of her above water. This, at least, was the
story told us by the people we picked up

The wind had been fair for the shore when the long-boat left the wreck,
and though their ragged sail scarcely drove them along, their oars were only
just sufficient to keep the boat's head the right way Of course they made
but slow progress ; so that when they rose on the top of a swell, which was
still very long and high in consequence of the gale, they could only just discover
the distant land, Muckish, a remarkable flat-topped mountain on the north-
west coast of Ireland, not very far from the promontory called the Bloody
Foreland.

There appeared to have been little discipline among this forlorn crew, even
when the breeze was in their favour ; but when the wind chopped round, and
blew off shore, they gave themselves up to despair, laid in their oars, let the sail
flap to pieces, gobbled up all their provisions, and drank out their whole stock of
water. Meanwhile the boat, which had been partially stove, in the confusion of
clearing the ship, began to fill with water ; and, as they all admitted afterwards,
if it had not been for the courage and patience of the women under this sharp
trial, they must have gone to the bottom.

As it was both cold and rainy, the poor children, who were too young to
understand the nature of their situation, or the inutility of complaining, in-
cessantly cried out for water, and begged that more clothes might be wrapped
round them. Even after they came to us the little things were still crying,
" Oh ! do give us some water" — words which long sounded in our ears. None
of these women were by any means strong — on the contrary, one of them
seemed to be very delicate ; yet they managed to rouse the men to a sense of
their duty by a mixture o<" reproaches and entreaties, combined with the
example of that singular fortitude which often gives more than masculine
vigour to female minds in seasons of danger. How long this might have lasted

SAVED AT SEA. 139

I cannot say ; but probably the strength of the men, however stimulated,
must have given way before night, especially as the wind freshened, and the
boat was driving further to sea. Had it not been for the accident of the officer
of the forenoon watch on board the Endymion being unaware of the captain's
intention to tack before dinner, these poor people, most probably, would all
have perished.

The women, dripping wet, and scarcely capable of moving hand or foot,
were lifted up the side, in a state almost of stupor ; for they were confused
by the hurry of the scene, and their fortitude had given way the moment all
high motive to exertion was over. One of them, on reaching the quarter-deck,
slipped through our hands, and falling on her knees, wept violently as she
returned thanks for such a wonderful deliverance ; but her thoughts were
bewildered, and, fancying that her child was lost, she struck her hands
together, and leaping again on her feet, screamed out, " Oh ! where's my bairn
— my wee bairn .-' "

At this instant a hugh quarter-master, whose real name or nickname ( I
forget which) was Billy Magnus, and who was reported to have no fewer tlian
five wives, and goodness knows how many children, appeared over the gangway
hammocks, holding the missing urchin in his immense paw, where it squealed
and twisted itself about, like Gulliver between the finger and thumb of the
Brobdignag farmer. The mother had just strength enough left to snatch
her offspring from Billy, when she sank down flat on the deck, completely
exhausted.

By means of a fine blazing fire, and plenty of hot tea, toast, and eggs, it
was easy to remedy one class of these poor people's wants ; but how to rig
them out in dry clothes was a puzzle, till the captain bethought him of a
resource which answered very well. He sent to several of the officers for their
dressing-gowns ; and these, together with supplies from his own wardrobe, made
capital gowns and petticoats — at least, till the more fitting drapery of the ladies
was dried. The children were tumbled into bed in the same compartment, close
to the fire ; and it would have done any one's heart good to have witnessed
the style in which the provisions vanished from the board, while the women
wept, prayed, and laughed, by turns.

The rugged seamen, when taken out of the boat, showed none of these
symptoms of emotion, but running instinctively to the scuttle-butt, asked
eagerly for a drop of water. As the most expeditious method of feeding and
dressing them, they were distributed among the different messes, one to each,
as far as they went. Thus they were all soon provided with dry clothing, and
with as much to eat as they could stow away ; for the doctor, when consulted,
said they had not fasted so long as to make it dangerous to give them as much
food as they were disposed to swallow. With the exception of the ham devoured
in the boat, and which, after all, was but a mouthful apiece, they had tasted
nothing for more than thirty hours ; so that, I suppose, better justice was never

X40

SAVED AT SEA.

done to His Majesty's beef, pork, bread, and other good things, with which our
follows insisted on stuffing the new-comers, till they fairly cried out for mercy
and begged to be allowed a little sleep.

Possibly some of as were more disposed to sympathise with the distress of
these people when adrift in their open boat on the wide sea, from having
ourselves, about a month before, been pretty much in the same predicament.
It always adds, as any one knows, greatly to our consideration for the difficulties
and dangers of others, to have recently felt some touch of similar distress in
our own persons. This maxim, though it is familiar enough, makes so little
impression on our ordinary thoughts, that when circumstances occur to fix our
attention closely upon it we are apt to arrive as suddenly at the perception of
its truth as if it were a new discovery.

"'ARE ANY OF YOU MARRIED MEN?' "

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

The Narrative of Philip Ashton.

M Friday, the 15th of June, 1722, after being out some time in a
schooner with four men and a boy, off Cape Sable, I stood in for Port
Rosa, designing to lie there all Sunday. Having arrived about four
in the afternoon, we saw, among other vessels which had reached
the port before us, a brigantine, supposed to be inward bound from the West
Indies. We had not remained more than three or (our hours at anchor when a
boat from the brigantine came alongside, with four hands, who leaped on deck,
and suddenly drawing out pistols and brandishing cutlasses, demanded the
surrender both of ourselves and our vessel. All remonstrance was vain; nor,
indeed, had we known who they were before boarding us, could we have made
any effectual resistance, being only five men and a boy, and were thus under the
necessity of submitting at discretion. We were not single in misfortune, as
thirteen or fourteen fishing vessels were in like manner surprised the same
evening.

When carried on board the brigantine, I found myself in the hands of Nee
Low, an infamous pirate, whose vessel had two great guns, four swivels, and
about forty-two men. I was strongly urged to sign the articles of agreement
among the pirates, and to join their number, which I steadily refused, and

142 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

suffered much bad usage in consequence. At length we were conducted along
with five of the prisoners to the quarter-deck ; and Low, coming up to us
with pistol in his hands, louldly demanded, "Are any of you married men?"
This unexpected question, added to the sight of the pistols, struck us all
speechless. We were alarmed least there was some secret meaning in his words,
and that he would proceed to extremities ; therefore none could reply.

In a violent passion he cocked a pistol, and clapping it to my head, cried
out, " You dog ! why don't you answer ? " swearing vehemently at the same time
that he would shoot me through the head. I was sufficiently terrified by his
threats and fierceness ; but rather than lose my life in so trifling a matter I
ventured to pronounce, as loud as I durst speak, that I was not married.
Hereupon he seemed to be somewhat pacified, and turned away. It appeared
that Low was resolved to take no married men whatever, which often seemed
surprising to me, until I had been a considerable time with him. But his own
wife had died lately, before he became a pirate, and he had a young child at
Boston, for whom he entertained such tenderness that at every lucid interval
from drinking and revelling, on mentioning it I have seen him sit down and
weep plentifully. Thus I concluded that his reason for taking only single men
was probably that they might have no ties such as wives and children to divert
them from his service and render them desirous of returning home.

The pirates, finding force of no avail in compelling us to join them, began to
use persuasion instead. They tried to flatter me into compliance by setting before
me the share I should have in their spoils, and the riches which I should become
master of; and all the time eagerly importuned me to drink along with them.
But I still continued to resist their proposals ; whereupon Low, with equal fury
as before, threatened to shoot me through the head ; and though I earnestly
entreated my release, he and his people wrote my name and those of my
companions in their books.

On the 19th of June the pirates changed the Privateer, as they called their
vessel, and went into a new schooner belonging to Marblehead, which they had
captured. They then put all the prisoners whom they designed sending home
on board of the brigantine, and sent her to Boston. This induced me to make
another unsuccessful attempt for liberty ; but though I fell on my knees before
Low he refused to let me go.

Thus I saw the brigantine depart with all the captives, excepting myself and
seven more. A short time before she departed I had nearly effected my escape ;
for a dog belonging to Low being accidentally left on shore, he ordered some
hands in a boat to bring it off. Thereupon two young men, captives, both
belonging to Marblehead, readily leaped into the boat ; and I, considering that
if once I could get on shore, means might be found of effecting my escape,
endeavored to go along with them. But the quarter-master, called Russel,
catching hold of my shoulder, drew me back.

As the young men did not return, he thought I was privy to the plot ; and

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 143

with the most outrageous oaths snapped his pistol at me on my denying all
knowledge of it. The pistol missing fire, however, only served to enrage him
the more. He snapped it three times again and as often it missed fire ; on
which he held it overboard, and then it went off. Russel on this .drew his
cutlass, and was about to attack me with the utmost fury, when I leaped down
into the hold and saved myself.

Off St. Michel's the pirates took a large Portuguese pink, laden with wheat,
coming out of the road ; and finding her a good sailer, and that she carried
fourteen guns, transferred their company into her. It afterwards became
necessary to carreen her, whence they made three islands, called the Triangles,
lying about forty leagues to the eastward of Surinam. In heaving down the
pink, Low had ordered so many men to the shrouds and yards that the
ports, by her heeling, got under water, and, the sea rushing in, she over-set.

Low, with the doctor, was in the cabin at the time, and as soon as he
observed the water gushing in, he leaped out of one of the stern ports, while
the doctor attempted to follow him ; but the violence of the sea repulsed the
latter, and he was forced back into the cabin. Low, however, contrived to
thrust his arm into the port, and, dragging him out, saved his life. Meanwhile
the vessel completely over-set ; her keel turned out of the water, and as the
hull filled, she sank in the depth of about six fathoms. The yard-arms
striking the ground, forced the masts somewhat above the water.

As the ship over-set, the people got from the shrouds and yards upon the
hull ; and as the hull went down, they again resorted to the rigging, rising a
little out of the sea. Being an indifferent swimmer, I was reduced to great
extremity, for along with other light lads I had been sent up to the maintop-
gallant yard ; and the people of a boat who were now occupied in preserving
the men, refusing to take me in, I was compelled to attempt reaching the
buoy. This I luckily accomplished, and, as it was large, secured myself there
until the boat aproached.

I once more requested the people to take me in, but they still refused, as
the boat was full. I was uncertain whether they designed leaving me to perish
in this situation ; however, the boat, being deeply laden, made way very slowly,
and one of my own comrades, captured at the same time with myself, calling
to me to forsake the buoy and swim towards her, I assented, and reaching
the boat, was drawn on board by him. Two men, John Bell and Zana Gourdon,
were lost in the pink. Though the schooner in company was very near at
hand, her people were employed mending their sails under an awning, and
knew nothing of the accident until the boat full of men got alongside.

The pirates having thus lost their principal vessel, and the greatest part of
their provisions and water, were reduced to great extremities for want of the
latter. They were unable to get a supply at the Triangles ; nor, on account of
calms and currents, could they make the Island of Tobago. Thus they were
forced to stand for Grenada, which they reached after being on short allowance

144 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

for sixteen days together. Grenada was a French settlement ; and Low on
arriving, after having sent all his men below, except a sufficient number to
manoeuvre the vessel, said he was from Barbadoes, that he had lost the water
on board, and was obliged to put in there for a supply.

The people entertained no suspicion of his being a pirate ; but afterwards
supposing him a smuggler, thought it a good opportunity to make a prize of
his vessel. Next day, therefore, they equipped a large sloop of seventy tons
and four guns, with about thirty hands, as sufficient for the capture, and came
alongside, while Low was quite unsuspicious of their design. But this being
evidently betrayed by their number and actions, he quickly called ninety men on
deck, and, having eight guns mounted, made an easy prey of the French sloop.

Provided with these two vessels, the pirates cruised about in the West Indies,
taking seven or eight prizes, and at length arrived at the island of Santa Cruz^
where they captured two more. After lying there for some days we sailed for
the Spanish American settlements. The pirates descried two large ships about
half-way between Carthagena and Portobello, which proved to be the Mermaid,
an English man-of-war, and a Guineaman. We approached in chase, but, dis-
covering the man-of-war's great range of teeth, immediately put about, and made
the best of our way off.

The man-of-war then began the pursuit ; and I confess that my terrors were
now equal to any that I had previously suffered ; for I concluded that we should
certainly be taken and that I should no less certainly be hanged for company's
sake — so true are the words of Solomon, "a companion of fools shall be
destroyed." But the two pirate vessels, finding themselves outsailed, separated ;
and Farrington Spriggs, who commanded the schooner in which I was, stood in
for the shore. The Mermaid, observing Low's sloop to be the larger of the
two crowded all sail, and continued gaining still more — indeed, until her shot
flew over the vessel ; but one of the sloop's crew showed Low a shoal which he
could pass, and in the pursuit the man-of-war grounded. Thus the pirates escaped
hanging on this occasion. Spriggs and one of his chosen companions, dreading
the consequences of being captured and brought to justice, laid their pistols
beside them in the interval, and pledging a mutual oath in a bumper of liquor,
swore, if they saw no possibility of escape, to set foot to foot and blow out
each other's brains. But standing towards the shore they made Pickeroon Bay
and escaped the danger.

Next we repaired to a small island called Utilla, about seven or eight leagues
to leeward of the island of Roatan, in the Bay of Honduras, where the bottom
of the schooner was cleaned. There were now twenty-two persons on board, and
eight of us engaged in a plot to overpower our masters and make our escape.
Spriggs proposed sailing for New England in quest of provisions, and to increase
his company ; and we intended, on approaching the coast, when the rest had
indulged freely in liquor and fallen sound asleep, to secure them under the
hatches and then deliver ourselves up to Government.

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 145

Although our plot was carried on with all possible privacy, Spriggs had
somehow or other got intelligence of it, and having fallen in with Low on the
voyage, went on board his ship to make a furious declaration agaiust us. But
Low made little account of his information, otherwise it might have been fatal
to most of our number. Spriggs, however, returned raging to the schooner, ex-
claiming that four of us should go forward to be shot ; and to me in particular
he said, "You dog, Ashton, you deserve to be hanged up to the yard-arm for
designing to cut us off." I replied that I had no intention of injuring any
man on board, but I should be glad if they would allow me to go away
quietly. At length this flame was quenched, and through the goodness of God
I escaped destruction.

Roatan Harbor, like all about the Bay of Honduras, is full of small islands,
which pass under the general name of " Keys ;" and having got in there, Low,
with some of his chief men, landed on a small island which they called "Port
Royal Key." There they erected huts, and continued carousing, drinking, and
firing, while the different vessels of which they now had possession were repairing^

On Saturday, the 9th of March, 1723, the cooper and six hands were going
ashore in the long-boat for water ; and on their coming alongside of the
schooner, I requested to be of the party. The cooper hesitated. I urged that
I had never hitherto been ashore, and thought it hard to be so closely confined
when every one besides had the liberty of landing when there was occasion.
Low had before told me that I should go home when he did, and swore that
I should never previously set my foot on land. But now I considered, if I
could possibly once get on terra Jirma, though in ever so bad circumstances,
I should count it a happy deliverance, and resolved never to embark again.

The cooper at length took me into the long-boat. Low and his chief people
were on a different island from Roatan, where the watering-place lay. My only
clothing was an Osnaburg frock and trousers, a milled cap, but neither shirt,
shoes, stockings, nor anything else.

When we first landed, I was very active in assisting to get the casks out
of the boat, and in rolling them to the watering-place. Then, taking a hearty
draught of water, I strolled along the beach, picking up stones and shells. On
reaching the distance of musket-shot from the party, I began to withdraw
towards the skirts of the woods. In answer to a question by the cooper as to
whither I was going, I replied, " For cocoa-nuts," as some cocoa-trees were just
before me ; but as soon as I was out of sight of my companions I took to my
heels, running as fast as the thickness of the bushes and my naked feet
would admit.

Notwithstanding I had got considerable way into the woods, I was still so
near as to hear the voices of the party if they spoke loudly, and I therefore
hid in a thicket where I knew they could not find me. After my comrades
had filled their casks, and were about to depart, the cooper called out to me to
accompany them ; however, I lay snug in the thicket, and gave him no answer,

146 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

though his words were plain enough. At length, after hallooing, I could hear
them say to one another, " The dog is lost in the woods and cannot find the
way out again." Then they hallooed once more, and cried, " He has run away
and won't come to us ; " and the cooper observed that had he known my
intention, he would not have brought me ashore.

Satisfied of their inability to find me among the trees and bushes, the cooper
at last, to show his kindness, exclaimed, " If you do not come away presently
I shall go off and leave you alone." Nothing, however, could induce me to
discover myself ; and my comrades, seeing it vain to wait any longer, put off
without me.

Thus I was left on a desolated island, destitute of all help, and remote from
the track of navigators ; but compared with the state and society I had quitted,
I considered the wilderness hospitable, and the solitude interesting.

When I thought the whole were gone, I emerged from my thicket and
came down to a small run of water, about a mile from the place where our
casks were filled, and there sat down to observe the proceedings of the
pirates. To my great joy, in five days their vessels sailed, and I saw the
schooner part from them to shape a different course. I then began to reflect
on myself and my present condition. I was on an island which I had no means
of leaving; I knew of no human being within many miles; my clothing was • t

scanty, and it was impossible to procure a supply ; I was altogether destitute
of provisions, nor could I tell how my life was to be supported. This melancholy
prospect drew a copious flood of tears from my eyes ; but as it had pleased
God to grant my wishes in being liberated from those whose occupation was the
devising mischief against their neighbors, I resolved to account every hardship
light. Yet Low would never suffer his men to work on the Sabbath, which
was more devoted to play ; and I have even seen some of them sit down to
to read in a good book.

In order to ascertain how I was to live in time to come, I began to range
over the island, which proved ten or eleven leagues long. But I soon found
that my only companions would be the beasts of the earth and the fowls of the
air ; for there were no indications of any habitations on the island, though
every now and then I found some shreds of earthenware scattered in a lime-
walk, said by some to be the remains of Indians formerly dwelling here.

The island was well watered, full of high hills and deep valleys. Numerous
fruit-trees, such as figs, vines, and cocoanut, are found in the latter ; and I
found a kind larger than an orange, oval-shaped, of a brownish color without
and red within. Though many of these had fallen under the trees, I could
not venture to take them until I saw the hogs feeding with safety, and then
I found them very delicious fruit.

Stores of provisions abounded here, though I could avail myself of nothing
but the fruit ; for I had no knife or iron implement, either to cut up a
tortoise on turning it, or as weapons wherewith to kill animals. Nor had I

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

147

any means of making a fire to cook my capture, even if I were successful.
Sometimes I entertained thoughts of digging pits and covering them over with
small branches of trees, for the purpose of taking hogs and deer ; but I wanted
a shovel and every substitute for the purpose, and I was soon convinced that
my hands were insufficient to make a cavity deep enough to retain what
should fall into it. Thus I was forced to rest satisfied with fruit, which was
to be esteemed very good provision for any one in my condition.

■I FOUND NEARLY A HUNDRKD AND FIFTY TORTOISE'S EGGS."

In process of time, while poking among the sand with a stick in quest o'
tortoise's eggs — which I had heard were laid in the sand — part of one came up
adhering to it ; and on removing the sand I found nearly a hundred and fifty,
which had not lain long enough to spoil. Therefore, taking some, I ate them,
and strung others on a strip of palmetto, which, being hung up in the sun,
became thick and somewhat hard, so that they were more palatable. After all,
they were not very savory food ; yet, having nothing but what fell from the
trees, I remained contented. Tortoises lay their eggs in the sand in holes about
a foot or a foot and a half deep, and smooth the surface over them, so that
there is no discovering where they lie. According to the best of my obser-
vation, the young are hatched in eighteen or twenty days, and then immediately
take to the water.

148 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

Many serpents are on this and the adjacent islands ; one, about twelve or
fourteen feet long, is as large as a man's waist, but not poisonous. When lying
at length, they look like old trunks of trees covered with short moss, though
they usually assume a circular position. The first time I ever saw one of these
serpents, I had approached very near before discovering it to be a living
creature ; it opened its mouth wide enough to have received a hat, and breathed
on me. A small black fly creates such annoyance that, even if a person pos-
sessed ever so many comforts, his life would be oppressive to him, unless for
the possibility of retiring to some small Key destitute of wood and bushes,
where multitudes are dispersed by the wind.

To this place, then, was I confined during nine months without seeing a
human being. One day after another was lingered out, I know not how, void
of occupation or amusement except collecting food, rambling from hill to hill,
and gazing on sky and water. Although my mind was occupied by many
regrets, I had the reflection that I was lawfully employed when taken, so that
I had no hand in bringing misery on myself. I was also comforted to think that I
had the approbation and consent of my parents in going to sea ; and I trusted
that it would please God, in His own time and manner, to provide for my return to
my father's house. Therefore I resolved to submit patiently to my misfortune.

It was my daily practice to ramble from one part of the island to another,
though I had a more special home near the waterside. Here I built a hut, to
defend me against the sun by day, and heavy dews by night. Taking some
of the best branches that I could find fallen from the trees, I contrived to fix
them against a low hanging bough, by fastening them together with split
palmetto-leaves ; next I covered the whole with some of the largest and most
suitable leaves that I could get. Many of these huts were constructed by me,
generally near the beach, with the open part fronting the sea, to have the
better look-out and the advantage of the sea-breeze, which both the heat and
the vermin required. But the insects were so troublesome that I thought of
endeavoring to get over to some of the adjacent Keys, in hopes of enjoying
rest. However, I was, as already said, a very indifferent swimmer ; 1 had no
canoe, nor any means of making one. At length, having got a piece of bamboo,
I ventured, after frequent trials with it under my breast and arms, to put off
for a small Key about a gunshot distant, which I reached in safety.

My new place of refuge was only about three or four hundred feet in circuit,
lying very low and clear of wood and brush ; from exposure to the wind it was
quite free of vermin, and I seemed to have got into a new world, where I lived
infinitely more at case. Hither I retired, therefore, when the heat of the day
rendered the insects most obnoxious. Yet I was obliged to be much on Roatan,
to procure food and water ; and at night, on account of my hut. When swim-
ming backward and forward between the two islands, I used to bind my frock
and trousers about my head ; and if I could have carried over wood and leaves
whereof to make a hut, I should have passed more time on the smaller one..

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 149

Yet these excursions were not unattended with danger Once, I remember,
when I was passing from the larger island, the bamboo, before I was aware,
slipped from under me, and the tide or current set down so strong that it was
with great difficulty I could reach the shore. At another time I was swimming
over to the small island when a shovel-nosed shark struck me in the thigh just
as my foot could reach the bottom, and grounded itself, from the shallowness
of the water ( as I suppose ), so that its mouth could not get round toward me.
The blow I felt some hours after making the shore. By repeated practice I at
length became a pretty dexterous swimmer, and amused myself by passing from
one island to another among the Keys.

I suffered very much from being barefoot, so many deep wounds being made
in my feet from traversing the woods, where the ground was covered with sticks
and stones, and on the hot beach, over sharp broken shells, that I was scarce
able to walk at all. Often when treading with all possible caution, a stone or
shell on the beach, or a pointed stick in the woods, would penetrate the old
wound, and the extreme anguish would strike me down, as suddenly as if I
had been shot. Then I would remain for hours together, with tears gushing
from my eyes from the acuteness of the pain. I could travel no more than
absolute necessity compelled me in quest of subsistence ; and I have sat, my
back leaning against a tree, looking out for a vessel during a complete day.

Once, while I sat faint from such injuries, as well as smarting under the
pain of them, a wild boar rushed towards me. I knew not what to do, for I
had not strength to resist his attack ; therefore, as he drew nearer, I caught
the bough of a tree, and half suspended myself by means of it. The boar tore
away part of my ragged trousers with his tusks, and then left me. This, I
think, was the only time that I was attacked by any wild beast ; and I
considered myself to have had a very great deliverance.

As my weakness continued to increase, I often fell to the ground insensible,
and then, as also when I laid myself to sleep, I thought I should never wake
again or rise in life. Under this affliction, I first lost count of the days of
the week ; I could not distinguish Sunday, and as my illness became more
aggravated I bcame ignorant of the month also. All this time I had no healing
balsam for my feet, nor any cordial to revive my drooping spirits. My utmost
efforts could only now and then procure some figs and grapes Neither had I
fire ; for though I had heard of a way to procure it by rubbing two sticks
together, my attempts in this respect, continued until I was tired, proved
abortive. The rains having come on, attended with chill winds, I suffered ex-
ceedingly. While passing nine months in this lonely, melancholy and iiksome
condition, my thoughts would sometimes wander to my parents, and I reflected
that, notwithstanding it would be consolatory to myself if they knew where I
was, it might be distressing to them. The nearer my prospect of death, which
I often expected, the greater my penitence became.

Some time in November, 1723, I descried a small canoe approaching with

ISO THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

a single man ; but the sight excited little emotion. I kept my seat on the
beach, thinking I could not expect a friend, and knowing that I had no enemy
to fear, nor was I capable of resisting one.

As the man approached, he betrayed many signs of surprise. He called me
to him, and I told him he might safely venture ashore, for I was alone and
almost expiring. Coming close up, he knew not what to make of me ; my
garb and countenance seemed so singular that he looked wild with astonish-
ment. He started back a little, and surveyed me more thoroughly, but,
recovering himself again, came forward, and, taking me by the hand, expressed
his satisfaction at seeing me.

This stranger proved to be a native of North Britain ; he was well advanced
in years, of a grave and venerable aspect, and of a reserved temper. His name
I never knew ; he did not disclose it, and I had not inquired during the
period of our acquaintance. But he informed me he had lived twenty-two
years with the Spaniards, who now threatened to burn him, though I know
not for what crime ; therefore he had fled hither as a sanctuary, bringing his
dog, gun, and ammunition, as also a small quantity of pork, along with him.
He designed spending the remainder of his days on the island, where he
could support himself by hunting. I experienced much kindness from the
stranger ; he was always ready to perform any civil offices, and assist me
in whatever he could, though he spoke little. He also gave me a share
of his pork.

On the third day after his arrival, he said he would make an excursion in
his canoe among the neighboring islands, for the purpose of killing wild hogs
and deer, and wished me to accompany him. Though my spirits were somewhat
recruited by his society, the benefit of the fire which I now enjoyed, and
dressed provisions, my weakness and the soreness of my feet prevented me ;
therefore he set out alone, saying he would return in a few hours. The sky
was serene, and there was no prospect of any danger during a short excursion,
seeing he had come nearly twelve leagues in safety in his canoe ; but when he
had been absent about an hour, a violent gust of wind and rain arose, in
which he probably perished, as I never heard of him more. Thus after having
the pleasure of a companion almost three days, I was reduced to my former
lonely state as unexpectedly as I had been relieved from it.

Yet through God's goodness I was myself preserved, from having been
unable to accompany him, and I was left in better circumstances than those in
which he had found me ; for now I had about five pounds of pork, a knife, a
bottle of gunpowder, tobacco-tongs and flint, by which means my life could be
rendered more comfortable. I was enabled to have fire, extremely requisite at
this time, being the rainy months of winter ; I could cut up a tortoise, and
have a delicate broiled meal. Thus by the help of the fire and the dressed
provisions, through the blessing of God I began to recover strength, though the
soreness of my feet remained. But I had, besides, the advantage of being able

ATTACKED BY THE WII,D BOAR. (p. 149.)

152 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

now and then to catch a dish of cray-fish, which when roasted proved good
eating. To accomplish this I made up a small bundle of old broken sticks,
resembling pitch-pine or candle-wood, and having lighted one end, waded, with
it in my hand, up to my waist in water. The cray-fish, attracted by the
light, would crawl to my feet, and lie directly under it, when, by means of a
forked stick, I could toss them ashore.

Between two and three months after the time of losing my companion, I
found a small canoe while ranging along the shore. The sight of it revived
my regret for his loss, for I judged that it had been his canoe, and from
being washed up here, a certain proof of his having been lost in the tempest ;
but on examining it more narrowly I satisfied myself that it was one which I
had never seen before.

Master of this little vessel, I began to think myself admiral of the neigh-
bouring seas, as well as sole possessor and chief commander of the islands.
Profiting by its use, I could transport myself to the places of retreat more
conveniently than by my former expedient of swimming. In process of time
I projected an excursion to some of the larger and more distant islands, partly
to learn how they were stored or inhabited, and partly for sake of amusement.

Laying in a stock of figs and grapes, therefore, as also some tortoise to eat,
and carrying my implements for fire, I put off to steer for the island of
Bonacco, which is about four or five leagues long, and situated five or six from
Roatan. In the course of the voyage, observing a sloop at the east end of
the island, I made the best of my way to the west, designing to travel down
by land, both because a point of rocks ran far into the sea, beyond which I
did not care to venture in the canoe, as was necessary if I wished to come
ahead of the sloop, and because I wished to ascertain something concerning
her people before I was discovered. Even in my worst circumstances I never
could brook the thought of returning on board of any piratical vessel, and
resolved rather to live and die in my present situation.

Hauling up the canoe, and making it fast as well as I was able, I set out
on the journey. My feet were yet in such a state that two days and the
best parts of two nights were occupied in it. Sometimes the woods and bushes
were so thick that it was necessary to crawl half a mile together on my hands
and knees, which rendered my progress very slow. When within a mile or two
of the place where I supposed the sloop might lie, I made for the water-side, and
approached the sea gradually, that I might not too soon disclose myself to
view ; however, on reaching the beach, there was no appearance of the sloop,
whence I judged that she had sailed during the time spent by me in travelling.

Being much fatigued with the journey, I rested myself against the stump of
a tree, with my face towards the sea, where sleep overpowered me ; but I had
not slumbered long before I was suddenly awakened by the noise of firing.

Starting up in affright I saw nine " periaguas," or large canoes, full of men,
firing upon me from the sea, whence I soon turned about, and ran among

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 153

the bushes as fast as my sore feet would allow, while the men, who were
Spaniards, cried after me, " O Englishman, we will give you good quarter."

However, my astonishment was so great, and I was so suddenly roused from
sleep, that I had no self-command to listen to their offers of quarter, which, it
may be, at another time in my cooler moments I might have done. Thus I
made into the woods, and the strangers continued firing after me, to the number

"I SAW NINE CANOES."

of one hundred and fifty bullets at least, many of which cut small twigs oflF
the bushes close by my side.

Having gained an extensive thicket beyond reach of the shot, I lay close
several hours, until, observing by the sound of their oars that the Spaniards
were departing, I crept out. I saw the sloop under English colors sailing
away with the canoes in tow, which induced me to suppose she was an
English vessel which had been at the Bay of Honduras, and taken <-here by
the Spaniards.

Next day I returned to the tree where I had been so nearly surprised,
and was astonished to find six or seven shot in the trunk, within a foot or
less of my head. Yet through the wonderful goodness of God, though having
been as a mark to shoot at, I was preserved.

154 THE PiRATE'S APPRENTICE.

After this I travelled to recover my canoe at the western end of the island,
which I reached in three days, but suffering severely from the soreness of my
feet and the scantiness of provision. This island is not so plentifully stored
as Roatan, so that during the five or six days of my residence I had difficulty
in procuring subsistence, and the insects were, besides, infinitely more numerous
and harassing than at my old habitation. These circumstances deterred me
from further exploring the island, and having reached the canoe very tired and
exhausted I put off for Roatan, which was a royal palace to me compared
with Bonacco, and arrived at night in safety. Here I lived, if it may be called
living, alone for about seven months after losing my North British companion.
My time was spent in the usual manner, ranging among the islands.

Some time in June, 1724, while on the same Key whither I often retreated
to be free from the annoyance of insects, I saw two canoes making for the
harbor. Approaching nearer, they observed the smoke of a fire which I had
kindled, and at a loss to know what it meant, they hesitated to advance.

What I had experienced at Bonacco was still fresh in my memory, and
loth to run the risk of such another firing I withdrew to my canoe, lying
behind the Key, not above a hundred yards distant, and immediately rowed
over to Roatan. There I had places of safety against an enemy, and sufficient
accomodation for any ordinary number of friends. The people in the canoes
observed me cross the sea to Roatan, the passage exceeding a gunshot
over, and being as much afraid as I was of Spaniards, approached very cautiously
towards the shore

I then came down to the beach, showing myself openly, for their conduct
led me to think that they could not be pirates, and I resolved, before being
exposed to the danger of their shot, to inquire who they were. If they proved
such as I did not like, I could easily retire.

But before I spoke they, as full of apprehension as I could be, lay on
their oars and demanded who I was and whence I came ; to which I replied
that I was "an Englishman and had run away from pirates" On this the}-
drew somewhat nearer, inquiring who was there besides myself. I assured
them in return that I was alone. Next, according to my original purpose,
having put similar questions to them, I heard that they had come from the
Bay of Honduras. Their words encouraged me to bid them row ashore, which
they did accordingly, though at some distance, and one man landed, whom I
advanced to meet.

But he started back at the sight of a poor, ragged, wild, forlorn, miserable
object so near him. Collecting himself, however, he took me by the hand, and
we began embracing one another — he from surprise and wonder, and I from a
sort of ecstasy of joy. When this was over, he took me in his arms, and
carried me down to the canoes, where all his comrades were struck with astonish-
ment at my appearance ; but they gladly received me, and I experienced great
tenderness from them.

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 155

I gave the strangers a brief account of my escape from Low, and my lonely
residence for sixteen months, all excepting three days, the hardships I had
suffered, and the dangers to which I had been exposed. They stood amazed
at the recital. They wondered I was alive, and expressed much satisfaction at
being able to relieve me. Observing me very weak and depressed, they gave
me about a spoonful of rum to recruit my fainting spirits ; but even this small
quantity, from my long disuse of strong liquors, threw me into a violent
agitation, and produced a kind of stupor, which at last ended in privation
of sense. Some of the party, perceiving a state of insensibility come on, would
have administered more rum, which those better skilled among them prevented,
and after lying a short time in a fit, I revived.

Then I ascertained that the strangers were eighteen in number, the chief
of them, named John Hope, an old man, called Father Hope by his companions,
and John Ford, and all belonging to the Bay of Honduras. The cause of their
coming hither was an alarm at a threatened attack by the Spaniards from the
sea, while the Indians should make a descent by land and cut off the bay ;
thus they had fled for safety. On a former occasion the two persons above
named had for the like reason taken shelter among these islands, and lived
four years at a time on a small one named Barbarat, about two leagues from
Roatan. There they had two plantations (as they called them ) ; and now they
brought two barrels of flour, with other provisions, fire-arms, dogs for hunting,
and nets for tortoises, and also an Indian woman to dress their provisions.

Their principal residence was a small Key, about a quarter of a mile round,
lying near to Barbarat, and named by them the "Castle of Comfort," chiefly
because it was low and clear of wood and bushes, so that the free circulation
of the wind could drive away the pestiferous mosquitoes and other insects.
Hence they sent to the surrounding islands for food, water, and materials to
build two houses, such as they were, for shelter.

I had now the prospect of a much more agreeable life than what I had
spent during the sixteen months past ; for, besides having company, I was
treated by the strangers, after their way, with a great deal of civility. They
clothed me, and gave me a large wrapping-gown as a defence against the
nightly dews until their houses were covered ; and there was plenty of provi-
sions. Yet, after all, they were bad society ; and as to their common conversa-
tion, there was little difference between them and pirates. However, it did not
appear that they were engaged in any such evil design as rendered it unlawful
to join them, or be found in their company. In process of time, and with the
assistance afforded by my companions, I gathered so much strength as some-
times to be able to hunt along with them. The islands abounded with wild
hogs, deer, and tortoise ; and different ones were visited in quest of game.
This was brought home, where, instead of being immediately consumed, it was
hung up to dry in the smoke, so as to be a ready supply at all times. I now
considered myself beyond the reach of danger from an enemy, for, independent

156 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE.

of supposing that nothing could bring any one here, I was surrounded by a
number of men with arms constantly in their hands ; yet at the very time
that I thought myself most secure, I was very nearly again falling into the
hands of pirates.

Six or seven months after the strangers joined me, three of them, along
with myself took a four-oared canoe for the purpose of hunting and killing
tortoise on Bonacco During our absence the rest repaired their canoes, and
prepared to go over to the Bay of Honduras, to examine how matters stood
there, and bring off their remaining effects in case it were dangerous to
return ; but before they had departed we were on our voyage homewards,
having a full load of pork and tortoise, as our object was successfully
accomplished.

While entering the mouth of the harbor in a moonlight evening, we saw a
great flash, and heard a report, much louder than that of a musket, proceed
from a large periagua which we observed near the " Castle of Comfort."

This put us in extreme consternation, and we knew not what to consider ;
but in a minute or two we heard a volley from eighteen or twenty small arms
discharged towards the shore, and also some returned from it. Satisfied that
an enemy, either Spaniards or pirates, was attacking our people, and being
intercepted from them by periaguas lying between us and the shore, we thought
the safest plan was trying to escape. Therefore taking down our little mast
and sail, that they might not betray us, we rowed out of the harbor as fast
as possible, towards an island about a mile and a half distant, trusting to
retreat undiscovered. But the enemy having either seen us before the sail was
lowered, or hearing the noise of the oars, follow with all speed in an eight-or
ten-oared periagua. Observing her approach, and fast gaining on us, we rowed
with all our might to make the nearest shore. However, she was at length
enabled to discharge a swivel, the shot from which passed over our canoe ;
nevertheless, we contrived to reach the shore before being completely within the
range of small arms which our pursuers discharged on us while landing.

They were now near enough to cry aloud that they were pirates, and not
Spaniards, and that we need not dread them, as we should get good quarter,
thence supposing that we should be the easier induced to surrender. Yet
nothing could have been said to discourage me more from putting myself in
their power. I had the utmost dread of a pirate, and my original aversion was
now enhanced by the apprehension of being sacrificed for my former desertion.
Thus concluding to keep as clear of them as I could, and the Honduras
Bay men having no great inclination to do otherwise, we made the best of our
way to the woods.

Our pursuers carried off the canoe and all its contents, resolving, if we
would not go to them, to deprive us as far as possible of all means of subsisting
where we were. But it gave me, who had known both want and solitude, little
concern, now that I had company, and we had arms among .is to procure
provisions, and also fire wherewith to dress it.

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 157

Our assailants were some men belonging to Spriggs, my former commander,
who had thrown off his allegiance to Low, and set up for himself at the head
of a gang of pirates, with a good ship of twenty-four guns and a sloop of
twelve, both at present lying in Roatan Harbor. He had put in for fresh
water, and to refit, at the place w^here I first escaped, and, having discovered
my companions at the small island of their retreat, sent a periagua full of men
to take them. Accordingly they landed and took all prisoners, even to a child
and the Indian woman. They killed a man after landing, and throwing him
into one of the canoes containing tar, set it on fire and burnt his body in it.
Then they carried the people on board of their vessels, where they were
barbarously treated. One of them turned pirate, however, and told the others
that John Hope had hid many things in the woods ; therefore they beat him most
unmercifully to make him disclose his treasure, which they carried off with them.

After the pirates had kept these people five days on board of their vessels,
they gave them a flat of five or six tons to carry them to the Bay of
Honduras, but no kind of provision for the voyage ; and further, before
dismissal, compelled them to swear that they would not come near me and
my party, who had escaped to another island. While the vessels rode in the
harbor, we kept a good look-out, but were exposed to some difficulties from
not daring to kindle a fire to dress our victuals, lest our residence should be
betrayed. Thus we lived for five days on raw provisions. As soon as they
sailed, however, Hope, little regarding the oath extorted from him, came and
informed us what had passed ; and I could not, for my part, be sufficiently
grateful to Providence for escaping the hands of the pirates, who would have
put me to a cruel death.

Hope and all his people, except John Symonds, now resolved to make their
way to the Bay. Symonds, who had a negro, wished to remain some time,
for the purpose of trading with the Jamaica men on the main But thinking
my best chance of getting to New England was from the Bay of Honduras, I
requested Hope to take me with him. The old man, though he would have
gladly done so, advanced many objections, such as the insufficiency of the
flat to carry so many men seventy leagues ; that they had no provisions for
the passage, which might be tedious, and the flat was, besides, ill-calculated
to stand the sea ; as also that it was uncertain how matters might turn out
at the Bay. Thus he thought it better for me to remain, yet rather than that
I should be in solitude he would take me in. Symonds, on the other hand,
urged me to stay and bear him company, and gave several reasons why I
should more likely obtain a passage irom the Jamaica men to New England
than by the Bay of Honduras.

As this seemed a fairer prospect of reaching my home, which I was ex-
tremely anxious to do, I assented, and having thanked Hope and his companions
for their civilities I took leave of them and they departed. Symonds was
provided with a cannon, firearms, and two dogs in addition to his negro, by

158 THE PIIIATE'S APPRENTICE.

which means he felt confident of being able to provide all that was necessary
for our subsistence. We spent two or three months after the usual manner,
ranging from island to island, but the prevalence of the winter rains precluded
us from obtaining more game than we required.

When the season for Jamaica traders approached, Symonds proposed re-
pairing to some other islands to obtain a quantity of tortoise-shell, which he could

ISLANDS IN THK BAY OF HONDURAS

exchange for clothes and shoes, and being successful in this respect we next
proceeded to Bonacco, which lies nearer the main, that we might thence take
a favorable opportunity to run over. Having been a short time at Bonacco,
a furious tempest arose and continued for three days, when we saw several
vessels standing in for the harbor.

The largest of them anchored at a great distance, but a brigantine came
over the shoals opposite to the watering-place, and sent her boat ashore with
casks. Recognising three people who were in the boat by their dress and
appearance for Englishmen, I concluded they were friends, and showed myself
openly on the beach before thenii

THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 159

They ceased rowing immediately on observing me, and after answering
their inquires of who I was, I put the same question, saying they might
come ashore with safety. They did so, and a happy meeting it was for me.
I now found that the vessels were a fleet under convoy of the Diamond
man-of-war, bound for Jamaica ; but many ships had parted company in the
storm.

The Diamond had sent in the brigantine to get water here, as the sickness
of her crew had occasioned a great consumption of that necessary article.

Symonds, who had kept at a distance, lest the three men might hesitate to
come ashore, at length approached to participate in my joy, though at the same
time testifying considerable reluctance at the prospect of my leaving him The
brigantine was commanded by Captain Dove, with whom I was acquainted,
and she belonged to Salem, within three miles of my father's house. Captain
Dove not only treated me with great civility, and engaged to give me a passage
home, but took me into pay, having lost a seaman, whose place he wanted me
to supply. Next day, the Diamond having sent her longboat ashore with
casks for water, they were filled ; and after taking leave of Symonds, who shed
tears at parting, I was carried on board the brigantine.

We sailed, along with the Diamond, which was bound for Jamaica, in the
latter end of March, 1725, and kept company until the 1st of April. By the
providence of Heaven we passed safely through the Gulf of Florida, and reached
Salem Harbor on the ist of May, two years ten months and fifteen days
after I was first taken by the pirates, and two years and nearly two months
after I made my escape from them on Roatan Island. That same evening I
went to my father's house, where I was received as one risen from the dead.

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