The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Adventures During the Late War, by Donat Henchy O'Brien This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license Title: My Adventures During the Late War A narrative of shipwreck, captivity, escapes from French prisons, and sea service in 1804-14 Author: Donat Henchy O'Brien Editor: Charles Oman Release Date: September 8, 2015 [EBook #49911] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY ADVENTURES DURING THE LATE WAR *** Produced by MWS, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Biography of The Author Contents. List of Illustrations (In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] clicking on this symbol , or directly on the image, will bring up a larger version of the illustration.) Footnotes. Some typographical errors have been corrected; a list follows the text. M Y A D V E N T U R E S D U R I N G T H E L A T E W A R 1804-14 London Edward Arnold, 1902. MY ADVENTURES DURING THE LATE WAR A NARRATIVE OF SHIPWRECK, CAPTIVITY ESCAPES FROM FRENCH PRISONS, AND SEA SERVICE IN 1804-14 BY DONAT HENCHY O’BRIEN CAPT. R.N. Edited by CHARLES OMAN FELLOW OF ALL SOULS COLLEGE AND DEPUTY PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD NEW EDITION, ILLUSTRATED {i} {iii} WITH A PREFACE, NOTES, AND BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR LONDON EDWARD ARNOLD 1902 All rights reserved. PREFACE While engaged during the last ten years in the task of mastering the original authorities for the history of the Napoleonic wars, I have had to peruse many scores of diaries, autobiographies, and journals of the British military and naval officers who were engaged in the great struggle. They vary, of course, in interest and importance, in literary value, and in the power of vivid presentation of events. But they have this in common, that they are almost all very difficult to procure. Very few have been reprinted; indeed, I believe that the books of Lord Dundonald, Kincaid, John Shipp, Gleig, and Mercer are well nigh the only ones which have passed through a second edition. Yet there are many others which contain matter of the highest interest, not only for the historical student, but for every intelligent reader. From among these I have made a selection of ten or a dozen which seem to me well worth republishing. Among these is the present volume—the narrative of the three escapes of Donat O’Brien from French captivity, and of his subsequent services in the Mediterranean during the last years of the great French war. I imagine that no prisoner—not excluding Baron Trenck himself—ever made three such desperate dashes for liberty as did this enterprising Irish midshipman. It is fortunate that he found the leisure, and had the skill, to narrate all his adventures. He had a talent for minute description, a wonderful memory, and a humorous way of looking on the world which will remind the reader of the spirit of Captain Marryat’s naval heroes. It is not, I think, generally known that O’Brien’s escapes actually suggested to Marryat a great part of the plot of one of his best known books—Peter Simple. In that excellent romance the narrator (it will be remembered) actually escapes from Givet in company with an Irish naval officer, and goes through a hundred perils before reaching safety. It was a strange liberty to take with a living comrade, that Marryat actually names Peter Simple’s comrade O’Brien, and utilises many touches from the real Donat’s adventures to make his tale vivid. In the end the fictitious O’Brien plays a great part in the story and marries the hero’s sister. What the retired captain thought, or said, on finding himself thus liberally dealt with in a novel is not recorded. But I fancy that he must have considered it hard that Peter Simple should be reprinted some thirty times, while his own most interesting book never saw a second edition. It is now very rare: in ten years of systematic searching of second-hand book shops, in quest of old military and naval autobiographies, I have only come on three copies of the work. I trust that by this edition it may be brought once more to common knowledge. The reader will find in it a most wonderful study of the life of a hunted man, “a sort of Nebuchadnezzar living on cabbage stalks,” as O’Brien styles himself, during his miserable lurking in the cliffs of the Vosges. Almost as interesting is the sketch of the gloomy existence of the thousand “refractory” British prisoners in the souterrains of the rock-fortress of Bitche. French writers have often denounced the Portsmouth pontoons, on which so many of their compatriots were forced to dwell. But they compare favourably with the underground dungeons in which Napoleon confined O’Brien and many another British sailor. In strong contrast with this part of the story is the short narrative of life in Verdun, where the détenus on parole seem to have been allowed as much, and even more, liberty than was good for them. Roulette tables and race meetings were demoralising luxuries for men suffering from enforced idleness. From other sections of O’Brien’s narrative the reader may obtain curious side-lights on many features of the Napoleonic régime in France— the ubiquity of the gendarme and his natural prey, the escaped conscript, the bare and squalid life of the peasantry, the estrangement between the military caste and the bourgeoisie. There are also glimpses of Germany during the existence of the Rheinbund, when the people were united in a sort of tacit conspiracy against the governments who had made themselves the tools of Bonaparte. Not least interesting are the final chapters, in which O’Brien, free at last, shows us how British naval ascendency was maintained in the Adriatic, and helps us to realise the truth of the saying that “wherever a boat could float Bonaparte’s power found its limit.” It was to no purpose that he called himself king of Italy, annexed Dalmatia and Illyria, and established his brother-in-law at Naples: three or four British frigates, based on the island stronghold of Lissa, dominated the whole seaboard, ransacked every estuary, and destroyed whatever naval force was sent against them—even though it was on paper twice their own strength. Hoste’s battle of 13th March 1811 was, as far as mere disparity of numbers goes, a victory that can be compared to St. Vincent alone among all the long list of British successes at sea. I have ventured to cut short O’Brien’s narrative at the end of the Napoleonic war. It went no further in his own first draft, which (as I have stated in the succeeding biographical note) was compiled before 1815. When he published his two-volume book, in 1839, he subjoined to his narrative of captivity and naval service three long chapters, detailing his visits and rambles in England and Ireland during the years of his middle age, his cruise to Brazil and Chile in 1818-21, and his continental tour with his wife in 1827. In these 150 pages there is so little matter to interest either the historical student or the general reader, that I have thought it well to omit them. For O’Brien, as for so many other British soldiers and seamen, “the joy of eventful living” ended in 1815. For this excision, and for certain other small cuttings, I think that I may appeal with a clear conscience for the pardon that editors are wont to demand. C. OMAN. Oxford, September 1902. {iv} {v} {vi} {vii} {viii} {ix} BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR Donat Henchy O’Brien was born in County Clare during the month of March 1785. Of his odd combination of names, the first was one common in the sept of the O’Briens since the earliest ages: it has nothing to do with St. Donatus, as the casual reader might suppose, but represents the old Erse Donough or Donoght.[1] His second name came from his mother, a Miss Henchy, sister of Counsellor Fitz-Gibbon Henchy, a Dublin lawyer of some repute in his day. Of Donat’s father we find nothing more in O’Byrne’s Naval Biography than the characteristically Hibernian statement that “he was descended from one of the ancient monarchs of Ireland.” Donat O’Brien entered the navy on 16th December 1796, when only eleven, starting even younger than the average of the midshipmen of those hard days. Apparently he owed his introduction to the service to Captain (afterwards Rear-Admiral) Edward Walpole Brown, whom he styles “his early patron.” His first vessel was the Overyssel (64), a Dutch line-of-battle ship which had been seized in Cork Harbour in 1795, where it was lying when Holland was forced to yield to France and to become her subservient ally. In this vessel he served for three years, under Captains Young and Bazely, mainly in the North Sea squadron. He was present in her at the surrender of the Dutch fleet in the Texel on 30th August 1799, during the futile campaign of the Duke of York. Later in the same year the Overyssel was engaged in the blockading of three Dutch men-of-war which had run into the port of Goeree. While in charge of an old merchant ship, which was to be sunk at the mouth of the harbour, for the more effectual shutting in of the fugitives, O’Brien was in great peril. The vessel was overset in a sudden gale, and he had a narrow escape from drowning, being saved at the last moment by a boat of the Lion cutter. From the Overyssel O’Brien passed in December 1801 to the Beschermer (54), another Dutch prize,[2] commanded by Captain Alexander Frazer. He was in her but a few months, as she was laid up in Ordinary at Chatham when the long negotiations for an accommodation with France were seen to be coming to a successful conclusion. In the spring of 1802, when the Peace of Amiens had been signed, O’Brien sailed in the Amphion, a 32-gun frigate, where he again had Captain Frazer as his chief. During the short suspension of hostilities the frigate was first cruising in British waters to suppress smuggling, and then engaged in a short cruise to Lisbon. In January 1803 O’Brien completed his six years of service as a midshipman, and went up to London to pass his lieutenant’s examination. This being accomplished with success, he returned for a short time to the Amphion, but was in a few months moved, as a master’s mate, to the Hussar, a new 38-gun frigate commanded by Captain Philip Wilkinson. The name Hussar was unlucky: the last ship that had borne the name, a 28-gun frigate, had been lost by shipwreck off the French coast on 27th December 1796, the greater part of her crew being made prisoners. Her successor was to have precisely the same fate less than a year after she had been put into commission. She sailed from Spithead in May 1803, immediately after the rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and was cruising in the North Atlantic and in the Bay of Biscay during the first months of the war. During the winter the Hussar was ordered to join Sir Edward Pellew’s squadron off the coast of Spain, and was lying with him in Ares Bay, near Ferrol, when she was ordered home with despatches. Captain Wilkinson was told to communicate on the way with the Channel Fleet, which was lying off Cape Finisterre, under Admiral Cornwallis, engaged in the blockade of Brest. It was this diversion into French waters which caused the loss of the Hussar. On 8th February 1804 she ran ashore on the Saintes rocks, and became a total wreck. The majority of the crew struggled ashore and fell into the hands of the French. Here Donat O’Brien’s own narrative begins. He may be left to tell the tale of his own misfortunes and adventures from February 1804 till October 1813. Suffice it to say that he was a prisoner at Givet from 28th March till 16th July 1804. He was then transferred to Verdun, where he lay interned till the August of 1807, when he made his first dash for liberty in company with three other naval officers—Lieutenant Essel and two midshipmen named Ashworth and Tuthill. After making their way through countless dangers as far as Étaples on the coast of Picardy, they were seized by douaniers when actually in sight of the sea and the English cruisers in the Channel. Their status being soon discovered, they were sent back to prison, after an Odyssey which had lasted from the 28th of August to the 18th of September 1807. After recapture O’Brien and his companions were told off for confinement in the mountain-fort of Bitche, a bleak fastness in the Vosges, appropriated to refractory or undesirable prisoners of war. While on their journey thither, escorted by mounted gendarmes, the prisoners had a chance of escape—they made a sudden dash for a neighbouring wood and ran for their lives. In their flight they soon lost sight of each other, and, while the others were recaptured, O’Brien got away. He made for the nearest neutral frontier, that of Austria, and nearly reached his goal. After passing the Rhine, crossing the Black Forest, and working far into Bavaria, he was arrested on suspicion at Lindau on the Lake of Constance. It was soon discovered that he was an escaped English prisoner, and the Bavarian Government sent him back under escort to France. His second futile attempt to escape had covered the period from 15th November to 30th November 1807. His two desperate dashes for freedom secured O’Brien a place in the most miserable subterranean casemate of Bitche. Nevertheless, after a year’s captivity this undaunted master’s mate once more escaped—this time in company with a midshipman named Hewson, a dragoon officer named Batley, and a surgeon named Barklimore. Having constructed a rope, they let themselves down from the three concentric walls of Bitche, a height of 200 feet in all, and got clear away. This time fortune was with O’Brien. He and two of his companions (the third, Captain Batley, fell ill at Rastadt and had to be left behind) crossed South Germany in safety, and reached the Austrian frontier not many miles from Salzburg. The local officials politely acquiesced in a transparent fiction by which the fugitives pretended to be Americans, and allowed them to proceed to Trieste, where they were picked up by a boat of the Amphion, one of O’Brien’s old ships. The third voyage of this much-travelled man had lasted from 15th September to 7th November 1808. We need not linger over his service in the Mediterranean on the Amphion, Warrior, and Bacchante. Suffice it to say that he became a lieutenant on 29th March 1809, and was promoted to the rank of commander on 22nd January 1813. He had seen much service during these four years, and had once been severely wounded in an unsuccessful attempt to board and capture a Venetian trabaccolo off Trieste. The most important action in which he was engaged was Commodore Hoste’s victory off Lissa on 13th March {x} {xi} {xii} {xiii} 1811. On being promoted to the rank of commander, O’Brien had to return to England, no ship being available for him in the Mediterranean. He arrived at Portsmouth on 4th October 1813, and took for some months a well-earned holiday. He was in hopes of seeing service against the Americans, but the times were unpropitious. Both the Napoleonic and the American wars were coming to an end, and, like so many other energetic naval and military men, O’Brien found himself placed on half-pay in 1814. He only had one more turn of service afloat, in command of the Slaney, a 20-gun sloop, which cruised on the South American station from 1818 to 1821. The rest of his life—he was still only thirty-six years of age—was spent in enforced retirement: in the thirties and forties the navy was kept low, and there was little prospect of work for the half-pay captain. On 28th June 1825 O’Brien married Hannah, youngest daughter of John Walmsley of Castle Mere, Lancashire, by whom he became the father of a large family, seven children in all. Two years after, he took his wife for a long tour round northern France, to show her the places of his imprisonments and escapes. It was this revisiting of old scenes that caused him to write the book which we have here reprinted. But he did not publish it till 1839, when it appeared, dedicated by permission to the young Queen Victoria. He had, however, already put out long before a shorter narrative of his escape, from which the two-volume book of 1839 was expanded. It had appeared in the Naval Chronicle for the years 1812-15, in the strange form of sixteen “Naval Bulletins” addressed to no less a person than the Emperor Napoleon. The dedication of this original draft deserves reproduction—it runs as follows:— “As your Imperial Majesty has long delighted in the compilation of endless Bulletins, as they are styled, in which truth and candour are never suffered to appear, it may perhaps amuse you, during some of these pauses which occasionally occur in your systematic destruction and humiliation of your fellow-creatures, to be enabled to hear a little truth, and to trace the manner in which such a humble individual as myself bade defiance to your persecutions, and has at length returned to his duty as a naval officer, notwithstanding all the dungeons, fetters, and insults which distinguished your reign of despotism.” The last of the “Naval Bulletins” appeared in the same number of the Naval Chronicle as a narrative by Henry Ashworth, one of the companions of O’Brien’s first escape. From this, an incomplete story, which Ashworth did not survive to finish, certain parts of O’Brien’s tale can be corroborated and expanded. O’Brien was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral on 8th March 1852. He survived five years more, and died on 13th May 1857 at Yew House, Hoddesdon, in his seventy-third year. The not very flattering portrait of him which we have reproduced as our frontispiece was drawn by J. Pelham and engraved by J. Brown for the book of 1839. CONTENTS PAGE Preface v Biography of Captain O’Brien ix CHAPTER I The Hussar Frigate is sent home with Despatches, and wrecked on the Saintes—Efforts to save the Ship—Attempt to escape in the Boats foiled by bad Weather—A Surrender to the Enemy Page 1 CHAPTER II A kind Reception by the Enemy—Our Shipmates all Prisoners—Consolations under Misfortunes—Prisoners sent to the Hospital at Brest—Robbery by a French Seaman—Running the Gauntlet—Dilemma of wearing or giving up a Sword—Kindness of the French Nuns—Orders to march into the Interior—Wounded Pride and Hard Fare—Bad Faith of the Minister of Marine—The March begins for Verdun—Arrival at Landernau—Aristocratic Differences in Rates of Pay or Allowances amongst Republicans—Landiviziau—An Illustration of Equality—Morlaix to Rennes—Prisoners and Vermin—Vitré—English Dogs at a French Inn—Laval—A Spectacle for the Mob—Alençon—Difficulties increased—Part of the Crew separated from their Officers—Our Arrival at Rouen—An honest Gaoler and his amiable Wife—A moderate Bill for Gaol Fare—Bons Garçons in a Prison—Our Arrival at Amiens—English Sympathy for suffering Countrymen Page 7 CHAPTER III Departure from Amiens—Arrival at Albert—Our French Officer’s Delicacy and Liberality—A Civic Feast at Bapaume—Effects of Champagne on French Aldermen—A Separation from our kind Conductor—A New Escort—A forced March to Cambray —Pitiable State and severe Sufferings of the Seamen—Entrance into Cambray—Imprisonment—Landrecies, Avesnes, Hirson —A Billet upon the Inhabitants—Rocroy—A brutal Landlord—The Robbery and Abuse of Prisoners—Givet—Charlemont— A Description of the Fortifications—An Escape of Prisoners—A fruitless Pursuit—Generosity of the French Commandant— Private Lodgings—A Jacobin Landlady—Exhausted Funds—The 4th of June—Honours done to King George the Third’s Birthday—Roast Beef and Plum Pudding—French Terrors of Insurrection—The Difference between taking off and only touching Hats in saluting Men in Authority—Good News—A joyful Departure in a cart for Verdun {xiv} {xv} {xvii} {xviii} Page 26 CHAPTER IV Our Arrival at Verdun—A joyful Reception—General Wirion—His Indulgence towards the Prisoners—The Meetings of old Shipmates and Friends—Mental Employment the best Antidote against Ennui and Dissipation—Restiveness at Confinement— Anxiety to be again in the Active Service of Old England—Meditations upon an Escape—Contrivances to avoid a Breach of Parole or any Breach of Honour—Three Comrades or Compagnons de Voyage—Scaling Ramparts—A Descent of Seventy- two Feet—The Open Country—The March commences—Flying by Night, and hiding in Woods by Day—Heavy Rains, Dismal Roads, and Swampy Beds, with Bad Fare and Good Hearts—Leaping a Moat—A Dislocated Knee—The March resumed, and pursued lamely—The Town of Neuville—Extreme Sufferings from Thirst—Water at length procured, Anguish allayed, and the Escape proceeded upon with renewed Spirits Page 43 CHAPTER V The Journey pursued—A Bivouac in a Wood—Dangers of being Shot—Making free with an Orchard—Crossing the Oise—A Mode of obtaining Provisions—A Cabaret and a Village Fête—Kindness of the Peasantry—Petit Essigny—Wringing drenched Garments, and Drying them over fading Embers—A miserable Landlord—A Change of Quarters—Luxuries of a Hay-loft—A Samaritan of a Hostess—Wretched Sufferings of Mr. Essel—Resort to another Village—A kind Landlord— Sympathies for Deserters—“A Fellow-feeling makes Men wondrous Kind”—The Luxuries of a Clean Bed—Resort to another Village—A motherly Hostess—A lucky Road-acquaintance—Virtue and Happiness in humble Life—The charitable Baker— Dangers from Sportsmen to Gentlemen hiding in Woods—Mr. Essel’s Illness disappearing—Increased Speed not always safe to Fugitives—Coldness of the Weather—An hospitable Farmer—A French Harvest-home—Hesdin—Neuville—Étaples— Turned out of a Straw Bed—A new Inn, with a Gendarme in Disguise in the Kitchen—Bribing a Landlord—No Boat to be had—An old Shepherd too cunning for a young Lieutenant and Midshipmen—Extreme Difficulties—High Hopes— Despondency and Resources Page 63 CHAPTER VI A False Direction and an Appalling Repulse—A Bribe refused—A Deluge, and Shelter in a Barn—A fatal Resolution—Dangers of Fugitives journeying by Daylight—A Market-day at Étaples—Passing through Crowds not very convenient for runaway Prisoners of War—An Attempt to reach the Sand-hills on the Coast—A Bold Progress through a Despicable Village—The last House—Parching Thirst, and begging for a Draught of Water—An Acquiescence or Reply in the shape of two Custom- house Officers—Our Capture—A clever Fiction well devised, better sustained, and totally defeated—Getting rid of suspicious Goods—An Examination before the Mayor—Americanism and the American Gentleman—An awkward Exposure—A Mittimus to Boulogne Gaol—An Examination of our Persons and Clothes—Our Fate sealed and Hope destroyed Page 90 CHAPTER VII Our Entrance into the Gaol of Boulogne—Tantalising Sight of Old England’s Flag and white Cliffs—A Gaoler’s Supper and a conscientious Bill—Another Examination—The Route to Verdun—Arras—The Gaoler kind, and the Commandant full of Indulgence—Bapaume—The Baker, and Inquiries for our lost Money—Cambray—Cateau-Cambresis and its horrible Dungeon—Landrecies—Our Awkwardness in Chains, Handcuffs, and Fetters—My Dislike to them—Avesnes—Information that we were to be Shot—The Dungeon of Avesnes—A dungeon Companion who had killed and cut up both his Parents—A Night of Horrors and Lunacy—Hirson, a Town without a Gaol, but with a Dungeon—A Supper and its Consequences—The Discovery of our Implements of Escape—Maubert Fontaine—A new Dungeon and a Fellow-prisoner—Reciprocal Services —A novel Mode of hiding Pistol-barrels—Chaining Prisoners to a Cart—Mezières—Arrival at Verdun—Separated from my Companions—Reflections on being Shot—A close Examination—Questioned in relation to Buonaparte—Allowed to join my old Associates—Another Cross-examination—A Recommittal to Prison—Our Fate determined—The Dungeon of Bitche— The Rev. Lancelot C. Lee, a détenu—His Generosity Page 100 CHAPTER VIII Our Departure from Verdun for Bitche—Mars-la-Tour, Metz, and Sarrelouis—I receive a useful Present from Mr. Brown— Sarreguemines—A last Chance—A mounted Guard—Thoughts of an Escape—Calculations upon a Chase in a Wood between Horse-soldiers and Prisoners on Foot—Attempt resolved upon—Signal given—Flight from the Prison Caravan to the Wood—French Pursuit—A Prisoner recaptured—My Escape from the Wood into another—My Companions, I fear, less fortunate—My Concealment—A swampy Bed and a stormy Sky, with a Torrent of Rain, for a Canopy—A prospective Flight of nearly 800 Miles—The Misery of a fruitless Search for lost Companions—Feeding on Haws, and herding with Quadrupeds and Vermin—A Hut discovered—Hunger compels me to enter—A Compromise, a Bribe, Female Advocacy, and an Escape —On the Road to the Rhine—A Preparation to sell Life dearly—A narrow Escape—Living on Cabbage-Stalks and raw Turnips—Bad Feet and worse Health—A lonely House near a Wood—Strong Temptations to Enter—A brutal Host, extreme Danger, and a narrow Escape—Bad Specimens of Human Nature {xix} {xx} {xxi} Page 116 CHAPTER IX An inclement Season—A Retreat in a Cavern-Somnambulism—The Discovery of a Shepherd’s Hut—A Traveller put out of a wrong Road—Swimming in a Winter’s Night—Passing through a Mill—A suspicious Traveller may be an honest Man—A Lorraine Cottage seen through a Fog—Dangers from over-kind People—Repugnance to be introduced to a Mayor or any other good Society—Concealment in a hollow Willow—An honest Fellow-traveller of fugitive Reminiscences—An ingenious Fiction—A Perspective of Strasbourg Page 131 CHAPTER X The Banks of the Rhine—Contemplations on crossing the River irregularly—Difficulties of finding a legal Passage—Mistaking two armed Officers for two harmless Fishermen—An appeal to Feelings, and a national Assurance of Patriotism—Cattle crossing the Bridge of Kehl—An Intermixture with the Cattle, and a Passage over the Rhine—Joy of being out of France—A Progress towards Friburg—Contrast between a warm Featherbed and bivouacking in the Mud—An innocent Landlord clever at a Guess—An Escape round Friburg—A Night’s Rest—En route to Constance—A Village Inn—A Countryman for a Waiter, and a long Gossip upon Personal Histories and Native Places—The Inconsistencies of Superstition and Hunger—My Approach to Constance—Effects on the Mind produced by its magnificent Scenery and beautiful Lake—Crossing a Branch of Lake Constance—Leaving the Kingdom of Würtemberg and entering the Kingdom of Bavaria—A Night’s rest in a Bavarian Village—La route to Lindau—Outmarching an Enemy—The Gate to Lindau—Successfully passing the Sentinels—Elation of Spirits—An awkward Querist—Unsuccessful Invention—A Capture—Examination and Imprisonment—Bitter Reflections upon my cruel Destiny Page 146 CHAPTER XI A fresh Incarceration—Stripping a Prisoner naked a more effectual detainer than Chains and Padlocks—Hopes of Escape prove delusive—Gaol Surgery and Gaol Diet—A timely Loan of Books—A short Visit from a Swiss Captive—Orders to prepare for a Return to France—A heavy Chain and huge Padlock—The Mob at Lindau—Leave-taking between a Prisoner and the Gaoler and Gaoler’s Wife—the Road to France—Going to Bed in Chains—Strict Watching—Chances of a Rescue— Anticipations of the Horrors of Bitche—Commiseration of my Guards—Crossing the Bridge of Kehl—A Surrender to the French Gendarmes—Captivity in the Military Gaol of Strasbourg—A kind Gaoler and as kind a Wife—His Gratitude for English Kindness when a Prisoner of War—Examined by the Police—Affectionate leave-taking of the honest Gaoler and his Wife—On the Road to Bitche heavily chained to Eleven Corsicans going to suffer Military Execution—The horrible Dungeon of Niederbronn—A revolting Night’s Confinement—Dreadful Sufferings of two of the Corsican Soldiers—Distant Prospects of Bitche—Anticipations of a cruel Confinement—Arrival at the Fortress Page 174 CHAPTER XII Conjectures of the Prisoners as to my Country and Crimes—Inferences from my Chains that I had committed Murder—Mr. Ashworth and Mr. Tuthill, with Mr. Baker, rejoin me—Lieutenant Essel dashed to Pieces in attempting to descend the Ramparts of Bitche—My Grief at his Death—The immense Height of the Ramparts—My Horrible Dungeon—Its revolting State of Filth—Interview with the Commandant—An Application to be allowed to take the Air granted for Two Hours a Day —Meditations upon an Escape—Our Efforts baffled—A Christmas Night in a Dungeon—Reminiscences of Home and Friends —A Sentinel firing on his Prisoners—I am removed to a Cell with Fifty Prisoners—Again removed to a higher Cell, with only Twelve—Improved Condition—Hear of a Scheme of the Prisoners below to effect their Escape—Contrive to join them— Stratagem to drown the Noise of Working-tools—Successful Undermining—Noise in Opening the Third Door—Sentinels alarmed—The Guards enter—Search and discover our Engineering—Fury of the French Officers—Mr. Brine, answering to the name of O’Brien, is captured instead of me—I escape from the Dungeon and regain my own Cell—Feign Illness, and avoid Suspicion Page 191 CHAPTER XIII A Trial at Metz—English Officers sentenced to the Galleys—Forging and using false Passports—The Consequences—A new Scheme of Escape—A favourable Night but unfavourable Sentinels—A Farewell Dinner—Another Attempt at Escape—A Descent of Ramparts by a Rope—Concealment in a Ditch—Rolling down a Glacis—An Adieu to the Mansion of Tears— Making towards the Rhine—Concealment in a Wood—Refuge in a Vineyard—Shooting a Fox—Disturbed in our Lair—A Flight and its Dangers—The Banks of the Rhine—Passing the River—A Joyful Escape into neutral Territory—Prospective Comforts of an Inn, and Refreshment Page 215 CHAPTER XIV {xxii} {xxiii} Refreshments at a Village Inn—The Town of Rastadt—A civil Traveller—Good Accommodation—Baden—Awkward Rencontre with a Royal Party—An Alarm about Passports—A Genteel Inn dangerous to Fugitive Travellers—The Advantages of a Drunken Landlord—The Town of Hornberg—To Kriemhieldsach, after passing the Black Forest—Banditti—The Murder of a French General—A German Inn and a rustic Dance—The Town of Tütlingen—A Concealment of Eight Days—Vain Attempts to smuggle Passports—Progress of our Journey—Crossing the Iller—Leaving Würtemberg and entering Bavaria—The Progress of our Flight—Kaufbeuern—An inquisitive Landlord and frightened Guests Page 232 CHAPTER XV Leaving Kaufbeuern on the Left Hand—Crossing the Wardach and the Lech—A welcome Ferry-boat—The Town of Weilheim— A long and exhausting March—The Soporific of Fatigue—The Ferry over the River Inn—Frightened at a Soldier—A false Alarm—Crossing the River—The Town of Reichenhall—Our Approach to the Bavarian Frontiers—The Increase of Dangers —Passing Barriers with Success—A Supposition that we were in the Austrian Dominions—A woeful Miscalculation and a narrow Escape from its fatal Consequences—An unexpected Demand for Passports—An Evasion—The Bavarian and Austrian Confines—Our extreme Danger—Anticipating the Galleys—A Track through a Wood at the foot of a Mountain—A Flight—The Boundary passed, and the Fugitives in the Emperors Dominions—Soldiers in Ambush—The Fugitives captured— Feigning to be Americans from Altona—Rage of the Bavarian Guard at being outwitted Page 247 CHAPTER XVI Our Arrival at Salzburg—The Director of Police—Perseverance in our Tale of being Americans—Suspected of being Spies— Austrian Feelings favourable towards England and Englishmen—Confession of the Truth—Treated well as English Officers— An excellent Inn—A kind Governor—Great Civility—Despatches from Vienna—Passports ordered for us—A Remittance of Money from Vienna—Passports for Trieste—Our Journey—German Students and Dog Latin—Clagenfurt—Laibach— Banditti—A Mountain Scene—An Irish Watch-fire—Arrival at Trieste—Ecstasies at beholding the Gulf and the English Frigate in the Offing—Our Embarkation—Picked up by the Amphion’s Boat—An old Friend and Shipmate—Discovering an Enemy —A desperate and unsuccessful Fight—The Killed and Wounded—Shot through the Right Arm—Valour of Lieut. G. M. Jones—His Wound—Excessive Kindness of the Amphion’s Captain and Officers—The Spider Brig—Corfu—Malta—Sir Alexander Ball—Unexpected Meeting with old Friends escaped from Bitche—Promoted to a Lieutenancy in the Warrior (a seventy-four)—The Glories of the Naval Service opened to me Page 263 CHAPTER XVII Receiving a Lieutenancy—Lord Collingwood’s Kindness—Joining the Warrior—An unexpected Supply of Dollars—An Accident at Sea—Capture of Ischia and Procida—Expedition against the Ionian Isles—Joining the Amphion—Captain Hoste’s Activity in the Adriatic—Commodore Dubourdieu and his Squadron at Ancona—Chasing the Enemy—A Wild-goose Pursuit— Success at Last—A glorious Battle and a splendid Victory—Details of the Action at Lissa—My Return to England—Interview with the First Lord of the Admiralty—A Visit to Ireland—A Solicitation from Captain Hoste to Join the Bacchante as First Lieutenant—Revisiting the Mediterranean—Provoking the Enemy—They provoking us—A Capture—Unhappy Loss of Prizes —An inexplicable Accident—Extraordinary Explosion of a French Frigate—A Flag of Truce—Venice—Corfu—Capture of Flotilla Page 287 CHAPTER XVIII Capture of General Bordé and his Staff—A gallant Boarding Exploit—A horrible Murder by Italian Prisoners of War—Success of our Navy—A Balance of Accounts—My Promotion—Quitting the Bacchante—Pain of leaving old Friends and brave Shipmates—The Plague at Malta—Captain Pell gives me a Passage Home—An ineffectual Chase and a narrow Escape— Stratagems of the Enemy—Toulon—Gibraltar—The English Channel—Ingenious Device of Captain Pell, resulting in the curious Capture of a French Privateer—Arrival in England—A kind Reception by the First Lord of the Admiralty—An Official Promise—“Hope deferred maketh the Heart sick”—A Return to London—The Peace of 1814—Its Consequences—Half- Pay and an End to all Adventures Page 331 Appendix— Letter of Barklimore to O’Brien Page 339 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Portrait of Captain O’Brien Frontispiece {xxiv} {xxv} {xxvii} PAGE Map showing the Lines of O’Brien’s Three Escapes xxviii Escape from the Gendarmes near Sarreguemines 118 Cutting out the Enemy’s Vessels at Port Lema 314 Capture of a French Flotilla off Otranto 328 CHAPTER I The Hussar Frigate is sent home with despatches, and wrecked on the Saintes—Efforts to save the ship—Attempt to escape in the boats foiled by bad weather—A surrender to the enemy. It was on Monday, the 6th February 1804, that the Hussar made sail from Ares Bay in Spain, being bound for England with despatches, from our commodore Sir Edward Pellew, and with orders first to communicate with our Channel Fleet off Brest. We had a fresh breeze from the S.W.; and on the succeeding day (Tuesday, 7th) the wind and weather were nearly the same. At noon, to the best of my recollection, we were in lat. 46° 50´, Ushant bearing N. 37° E., distant 113 or 114 miles. On Wednesday (8th) the wind and weather were the same, and we were steering, as nearly as I can recollect, N.E. by E., and running nine knots an hour. Every heart was elated with the joyful expectation of being safely moored in a few hours in the land of liberty. Some were employed in writing to their friends and relatives; but, alas! how frail and delusive are the hopes of man! How differently had our lot been decreed! The happy arrival, with many, never took place. With all the others it was long delayed; and the vicissitudes and miseries we were doomed to suffer will amply appear in the subsequent pages.[Pg -498] It was upon this fatal Wednesday, at about 10.45 P.M., whilst steering this course of N.E. by E., and running at the rate of about seven knots an hour, in dark and hazy weather, the Hussar struck upon the southernmost point of the Saintes. We beat over an immense reef of rocks, carried away our tiller in several pieces, unshipped the rudder, and, from the violence of beating over the reef, we damaged the ship’s bottom so considerably that the leak became very serious. At length we got into deep water, and let go our bower anchors, to prevent being dashed to pieces on the immense rocks ahead. We got our top-gallant yards and masts on deck, and used every possible means to lighten the ship. The greater part of the crew were kept at the pumps; whilst the remainder, with the officers, were employed in staving the water-casks in the hold, in shoring the ship up, as the ebb tide was making and she was inclining to starboard, and in doing all that was deemed expedient to the safety of the ship. All was unavailing. The carpenter reported that she was bilged; and we could distinctly hear the rocks grinding and working through her as the tide fell. At daylight Mr. Weymouth (the master) was sent to sound for a passage amongst the rocks, on the supposition that we might be able to buoy the ship through, but he returned without success; though, had he accomplished it, from the state the ship was in, there could have been little hope of getting her out. A division of the seamen and marines, with their respective officers, was then ordered to take possession of the island, that in the last extremity there might be an asylum secured for the men and officers. The rest of the crew remained at the pumps, but with no success, as the leak kept gaining upon them. The island was taken without any opposition, the only people on it being a few distressed fishermen and their families. About 11 A.M. we began to land the crew, no hopes remaining of being able to save our ship. However, the remainder of the people kept still working at the pumps, waiting the return of the boats. At noon, the flood making strongly, and we fore-reaching withal, Captain Wilkinson gave directions to let go the sheet-anchor, which was immediately done. Strong gales from S.W. February 9th.—By about 1 P.M. everybody was safely landed, with two or three pigs and some biscuit, which were the only subsistence we had secured. Captain Wilkinson and Mr. Weymouth came in the last boat. At about 1.30 P.M. Lieutenant Pridham, with Messrs. Carey, Simpson, and Thomas (three warrant-officers), and myself, were ordered by the captain to return to the ship, to cut her masts away, and destroy everything we could possibly get at. On our arrival on board, the water was nearly square with the combings of the lower deck. At about 3.30 P.M. we quitted her, having executed with the greatest accuracy the duty we were ordered upon: the wind still increasing, left us but little hope of her hanging together for the night. We joined the officers and crew in a small church; and this was the only place on the island where we could conveniently take up {xxviii} {1} {2} {3} our residence. The weather was excessively inclement during the night. At daylight, discovering the ship still apparently whole, Captain Wilkinson despatched Mr. Pridham and Mr. Mahoney (master’s mate), with a party of men, to destroy her by fire. The other officers and people were employed in equipping thirteen fishing-boats, which belonged to the inhabitants,[3] for the purpose of transporting the ship’s company, either to our fleet off Brest or to England, as circumstances might admit. Mr. Pridham and his party returned, and the report of the ship’s guns announced the execution of the duty they had been sent upon. On the 10th, at about 1.30 P.M., our boats were in readiness, it then blowing hard from the S.W. We all embarked in them. I had the honour to command one, with twenty-five men; Captain Wilkinson, with the master, leading in the barge, which was the only ship’s boat in company. We made sail out of the little creeks in which the boats had been moored, the sea running excessively high, and at about two the barge hauled up to the N.W. We all, of course, followed. About 2.30 or 3 o’clock in the afternoon we bore up again. Several of the boats were in distress, being very badly found, having neither sails, rigging, nor ground tackling that could be at all trusted to. Lieutenants Pridham and Lutwidge (who remained prisoners of war until the peace of 1814), and Lieutenant Barker (who was afterwards killed in a duel at Verdun), were to keep ahead, as no other boat had compasses. At about five, in a very severe squall with rain, we lost sight of the barge. Everybody in our boat was of opinion that she had been upset; and at 5.30 P.M., it blowing extremely hard, with a heavy shower of rain, we lost sight of all the boats. At about six we observed St. Matthew’s Light[4] on the weather bow. The wind now chopped round to the N.W., in a very heavy squall, which carried away our mainmast in the step[5] and fore-tye, and very nearly swamped us, having almost filled the boat with water. We chipped the heel of the mainmast, restepped it, and rove the main-tye and halliards forward, which enabled us to set the foresail, and keep scudding before the wind to Rock Fort, with the expectation of falling in with some of the other boats; but in this we were disappointed. At eleven we determined to anchor at the bottom of Bertheaume Bay, though with very little or no hope of riding long, our only ground tackling being a small grapnel and a very few fathoms of one inch and a half rope. We providentially succeeded in bringing up, though we were, unfortunately, too near the shore and most miserably situated: the weather tide, running strongly against a violent gale from the N.W., occasioned such a sea as to bury us frequently in its abyss. At 2 A.M., the sea breaking in a most terrific manner over us, and finding that we were driving and almost touching abaft, expecting every second to be dashed on the rocks astern of us, we hauled in briskly on the grapnel rope, hoisted the foresail and wore round, paying out the grapnel rope just hauled in, until we brought it right over the quarter, which enabled us to get our grapnel on board with ease; then we stood over to the Camaret Bay side, in the hope of falling in with some little haven to shelter us, or with one of the other boats; but we were disappointed in either expectation. At about 4.30 A.M., finding we advanced towards Brest Harbour considerably, we resolved to try the grapnel once more; although we were not in the smallest degree sheltered from the inclemency of the weather, and were placed immediately under a fort, which we distinguished by its lights, that enabled us to see the sentinels on their posts walking to and fro. We made, if possible, worse weather here than at our former anchorage, with the exception that the grapnel held. At 7.30 A.M. the wind and weather became more inclement than on the preceding night. Not a boat of ours was in sight, every minute we expected to be hailed by the fort, and not a soul amongst us could speak a word of French. We were almost perishing and starved from the fatigue and sufferings of the night, the few provisions we had being totally destroyed by the salt water. Seeing no alternative but the pain and mortification of delivering myself and my boat’s crew prisoners of war, I came at length to that resolution. Accordingly I ordered all the small arms in my boat to be hove overboard, and at eight cut the grapnel rope, and ran into Brest Harbour under the foresail. Imagining that the boat’s crew and myself might be better received and treated on board the commander-in-chief’s ship than in a private vessel, I went alongside the Alexandre, which ship bore his flag, and I surrendered myself and my crew as prisoners of war. CHAPTER II A kind reception by the enemy—Our shipmates all prisoners—Consolations under misfortunes—Prisoners sent to the hospital at Brest —Robbery by a French seaman—Running the gauntlet—Dilemma of wearing or giving up a sword—Kindness of the French nuns —Orders to march into the Interior—Wounded pride and hard fare—Bad faith of the Minister of Marine—The march begins for Verdun—Arrival at Landernau—Aristocratic differences in rates of pay or allowances amongst republicans—Landiviziau—An illustration of equality—Morlaix to Rennes—Prisoners and vermin—Vitré—English dogs at a French inn—Laval—A spectacle for the mob—Alençon—Difficulties increased—Part of the crew separated from their officers—Our arrival at Rouen—An honest gaoler and his amiable wife—A moderate bill for gaol fare—Bons garçons in a prison—Our arrival at Amiens—English sympathy for suffering countrymen. I was not disappointed in my expectations, for I was received with the utmost civility. Every attention was paid to me, and I was provided with a suit of dry clothes. They got me instantly (of which I never before stood more in need) a warm draught, and gave each of my men a glass of liquor, and ordered breakfast for them, with everything else that was necessary to recruit exhausted nature, and to console them under their sufferings and misfortunes. The poor fellows were in a most deplorable state, shivering and shaking like aspen leaves; some of them were so worn out with fatigue, hunger, and the extreme severity of the weather that they could scarcely articulate when spoken to. The French officers informed me also, that the whole of the boats, except mine and one other, from the extreme violence of the weather, had been obliged to make for Brest, and had arrived in the night; whilst they added that they had been under the greatest apprehensions for our safety, as it was not supposed possible, from the size of the boats and the manner they were found, that they could exist through the severity of the night. Lieut. Barker, Mr. Nepean, a midshipman, and now a commander, and Mr. Carey, the boatswain (who afterwards died at Verdun), came on board, from the other French ships-of-war in which they were prisoners, to congratulate me on my extraordinary escape and safe arrival. We were, however, under the strongest and most painful apprehensions that Mr. Robert James Gordon, the midshipman who commanded the boat which had not yet arrived, had perished with his companions. The next day, the 11th, at 2 P.M., we were all sent on shore to the hospital at Brest, which was the place assigned to us, as each {4} {5} {6} {7} {8} individual was more or less unwell from the hardships he had undergone. To mark the character of the French seamen and of their naval service, I must here relate that a small leathern trunk or valise, in which I had saved a change of linen, etc., had been taken out of one of our marines’ hands, by a French sailor who spoke a little English, under the pretence of saving him the trouble of carrying it down the ship’s side; whilst the scoundrel, instead of putting it into the boat, handed it in through one of the lower-deck ports. Our marine, who remained on the ship’s gangway, had construed the transaction into an act of kindness, and concluded that the trunk had been safely deposited in the boat which was to carry us on shore; nor was the theft discovered until upon our landing, when the humble, though to me invaluable, property could not be found. I immediately communicated the fact to the officers who conducted us, and they instantly sent on board an order to search for the valise. In fact, they appeared excessively hurt that such an act of villainy should have been committed by one of their crew. They assured me that the perpetrator should be severely punished, and that my little portmanteau should be safely returned. I despaired of this very much, though I entertained little doubts of the first part of the promise being faithfully kept. In the meantime, these officers conducted us to the hospital, and insisted upon my wearing my sword all the way. The captain had refused to receive it on board, observing that I had been unfortunately wrecked, and not taken in fight, and, consequently, that I had no right to lose my sword; and he further remarked, that, in his opinion, we ought to be returned to our native country, and should not be considered as prisoners; but he added that the gaoler on shore would deprive me of my side-arms, which was afterwards the case. On our arrival at the hospital, or rather prison (as we were closely watched and guarded), the gaoler took away my sword, and appeared very much enraged at my not allowing him to take my belt; this, I observed to him, could do no mischief. I now had the inexpressible happiness of shaking hands with all the officers, excepting Mr. Thomas (carpenter), who was unfortunately drowned in attempting to land in Bertheaume Bay, and Mr. Gordon (midshipman), who, I was very much pleased to hear, was safe at Conquêt, where he had effected a landing. We expected him and his boat’s crew round to Brest the following day. On the 14th we had the pleasure of seeing him and his crew safely arrived; they spoke very handsomely of the treatment they had received at Conquêt and on the march. I now received part of the things that were in the valise, and the thief, I was informed, had run the gauntlet. We were very well used during our stay here, and were attended by religieuses, or old nuns, which is a general custom in all the French hospitals. They were the most attentive nurses I ever beheld: constantly on the alert; visiting their patients; administering relief wherever it might be wanted; and always solacing the dejected. On the 18th we received information that we should commence our march towards our depot on the following morning; and accordingly, on the 19th, we were ready at a moment’s notice. At about eight o’clock we were all drawn up in the hospital yard. Mr. Mahoney and myself (being the senior midshipmen) took our stations...