Narrative of a Captivity and Adventures in France and Flanders

Front matter

NARRATIVE,

&c. &c.

On Stone by V. Bartholomew | Printed by C. Hullmandel

Preface

The following “Narrative” was written in the West Indies, in 1810, at the previous suggestion, and for the sole amusement, of my own family; since which, it has undergone occasional revision, both with a view of leaving to my children a memento of their father’s juvenile adventures, and also of committing it to press, should more competent judges deem such a course not to savour of presumption.

The reader, who may run through this little volume, will not fail to observe, that it could not have been published at the time it was written, without risk of injury to those to whom I was indebted for protection; and when this cause ceased to operate, in consequence of the number of years which had elapsed, I still delayed the publication, from the fear it might not be found worthy the attention of the public. At length, however, trusting in the indulgence so generally shown to one who is not an author by profession, and more especially to the liberality of my brother officers, I venture, late as it is, (but not without much diffidence) to publish this plain statement “of facts,” requesting the candid reader to bear in mind, that I make no pretensions to literary merit, my sole object being to convey the simple truth in its simplest form.

Narrative

NARRATIVE.

At the termination of the war, in the spring of 1802, I was paid off as a master’s mate of the Royal Sovereign, bearing the flag of Vice Admiral Sir Henry Harvey, K.B. In June following, I joined the Phœbe frigate; in September, captain the Hon. T. B. Capel was appointed; we were sent to the Mediterranean, and there continued until the renewal of the war in 1803. In July, the Phœbe was ordered off Toulon, to watch the enemy in that port: on our way thither, when off Civita Vecchia, two privateers were seen from the mast head, it being then a dead calm; the boats, ably manned and well armed, were dispatched in chace, under the orders of the first Lieutenant Perkins, and after five hours’ rowing, about ten P. M. came up with one of them; but from an unfortunate medley of disastrous events, we were twice repulsed with the loss of eight men killed and wounded.

Having reached our station off Toulon, on the night of the 31st of July, two armed boats under the orders of Lieutenant Tickell, with one of which I was entrusted, were sent in shore for the purpose of capturing any vessel running along the coast, that he might judge worth the risk of attack; having gained an eligible situation, under the land, near Cape Cecie, we lay upon our oars until dawn of day, when two settées were discovered standing to the westward, with a light breeze, they were instantly boarded, and carried, without resistance; they proved to be from Genoa, bound to Marseilles, with fruit and sundry merchandize. On rejoining the Phœbe, the sails of the prizes were found to be in such a tattered state, that Captain Capel judged it proper to detain them two days in order to have them repaired, when I was appointed prize master to one, and a midshipman, named Murray, to the other, having with him an assistant bro- ther officer, named Whitehurst. Our orders were to proceed the following day to Lord Nelson, then off the coast of Catalonia, and thence to Malta; unhappily for me it was otherwise ordained; for at break of day on the 4th of August, four frigates, viz. “La Corneille, (Commodore) Le Rhin, L’Uranie and La Thamise” were discovered about five miles astern; all sail was immediately crowded upon our little squadron, steering about S.S.W. with a moderate breeze from the W.N.W.; as the day broke, the Redbridge schooner hove in sight on the larboard bow upon the opposite tack, having a transport under her convoy, and, passing within hail of the Phœbe, soon after spoke me. The lieutenant recommended my tacking and following him; but as I saw that by so doing I should be running into the teeth of the enemy, and inevitably taken, in a quarter of an hour, I preferred executing my captain’s orders, by keeping my station as long as I could: to this end we cut the long boat adrift, and began to lighten the vessel by throwing the cargo overboard, and setting every yard of can- vass that could stand; but, notwithstanding all our efforts, the enemy was rapidly gaining both on myself and on the Phœbe, and escape for either appeared impossible.

Seeing the Redbridge persevere in endeavouring to cross them, it occurred to me that Captain Capel might probably have directed the lieutenant to take the prizes under his convoy, and stand to the northward, in order to create a diversion, and thereby separate the pursuing enemy; this idea was strengthened by soon after observing the weathermost open her fire upon the schooner, which immediately struck, and, together with the other settée, hove too. The time lost in exchanging the prisoners, indicating no very zealous anxiety to resume the chase, also tended to confirm my suspicion; hence, doubting whether I had not erred in neglecting the advice (for it did not amount to an order) of the lieutenant of the Redbridge, I determined on bearing up, in the hope of getting to leeward, and enticing one of the frigates after me. At this time I was about three miles on the weather bow, and the Phœbe about four, a head, of the French squadron. Scarcely were the sails trimmed, and the impossibility of escape obvious, than I determined on running the vessel athwart hawse of the headmost, in the hope of doing some mischief, and thereby facilitating the escape of the Phœbe; but this design was frustrated by our own helmsman, who, being a Frenchman, and alarmed at the enemy’s threat to sink us, disobeyed my orders in the conning of the vessel. Seeing her spring too, I ran aft, to the helm, but it was too late, our rigging just cleared the main chains of the frigate, which, to my utter astonishment, hove too, and sent a boat to take possession; thus, by a voluntary and unnecessary act, did the enemy execute that, which I had fondly hoped to effect, and which was almost the only act that could afford consolation in so painful a situation; for, notwithstanding I was myself a prisoner, I could but indulge in feelings of triumph at seeing the Phœbe walk off in the face of a superior and much faster sailing foe. As the other frigates closed, they also hove too, thus allowing the Phœbe to make one of the most miraculous escapes that occurred during the war. In the mean time the corvette captured the transport. About half an hour was occupied in removing the prisoners and dispatching the prizes to Toulon: during which period, the Phœbe was manœuvring in defiance, firing guns and making signals as if communicating with a friendly force. The chace was renewed, and an officer ordered to the mast head to look out, who reported that he saw several large sail to windward; the signal “a fleet in sight,” was immediately made to the commodore, and soon after the squadron bore up for Toulon; on approaching which, Admiral Gantheume, the commander in chief, by signal, ordered the chace to be resumed, evidently disapproving of the return; but the Phœbe was then some distance to windward. Captain Capel, seeing the irresolution and want of energy in the French squadron, about four P. M. boldly bore down, fired at them, and hauled his wind again, as if desirous of enticing them off shore; between six and seven P. M. they gave up the chace, and again made sail for Toulon, followed by the Phœbe. It is impossible to say with what discretionary power the commodore was invested, but it was nevertheless certain, from the decided advantage the French squadron had in sailing, that if they had continued the chace in either instance, the Phœbe must have been taken, for there was no friendly ship of war within many leagues. During the night the squadron lay too off the mouth of the harbour, and when day dawned, again gave chace, which was continued all day, taking care not to reach too far off shore; in the evening they bore up and lay too as before. The 6th they again stood to sea, and returning, about sunset, anchored in Toulon roads. The pleasurable feelings of curiosity which every seaman experiences on entering a port which he has never before visited, were absorbed in the recollection that I was a prisoner, cut off from my country and friends, at the breaking out of a war, when I had served nearly seven years, and had buoyed myself up with the hope that I was on the very eve of promotion; these reflections, together with the conviction that I was so guarded as to preclude a probability of escape, tended to cast a temporary gloom over my spirits, and render me indifferent to the beauties of the surrounding scenery. The following day we were separately examined before officers sent on board for the purpose, and our refusal to answer questions put to us, respecting the strength and situation of Lord Nelson, was construed into contempt, and so excited the rage of the captain of the Rhin, that he told us we were pirates; this novel information did not in the least disconcert us, for we suspected the ignorance of the man, and afterwards learnt he had been a barber; indeed, the whole tenor of his conduct evinced the dreadful convulsion which society in France must have undergone during the revolution, for such an ignorant, low-bred fellow to have risen to the command of a frigate. When, however, it was explained to him that midshipmen in the British navy never had commissions, he resumed his composure, and, on my producing Captain Capel’s written order, I was dismissed. Whitehurst and Murray underwent similar examinations, but with no better success. During the twenty-one days we were on board the Rhin, under quarantine, the Phœbe frequently hove in sight, and, as we were informed, made repeated proposals for an exchange of prisoners, but unfortunately, they were too well satisfied with such living proofs of their prowess in naval arms, to accede to them. We were occasionally permitted to take exercise in the quarantine ground, until the morning of the 26th of August, when Murray, Whitehurst, and myself, the master of the Transport and ninety men, were landed about two miles to the westward of the town; thus separating us from the officers of the schooner, consisting of Lieutenant M‘Kenzie of the Maidstone, passenger, and six midshipmen, (Lieutenant Lempriere, the commander of the schooner, having been drowned in the roads, by the upsetting of a boat). Our separation from these officers, was caused by our conduct at the mock court of inquiry; we were told that we did not deserve to be treated like our comrades, and therefore were sent with the men. On landing, we were received by a captain’s guard of infantry, who very uncourteously pushed us indiscriminately into ranks, and, forming themselves in file on each side, waited only the order to march, which was soon announced by a brace of dismal drums at the head of the escort, previous notice being given, through the medium of the interpreter, that the first who dared to wander from the ranks, would be shot. It was really ludicrous to witness the parade of triumph evinced by our commanding officer, and the readiness with which his every gesture was imitated by some of his obsequious subordinates, who liberally dealt out blows with the flat of swords upon the shoulders of any one, who, even from awkwardness, might incline out of the direct line of march. In this way we trudged along, with each a loaf of ammunition bread slung over the shoulder, and only four dollars (which Whitehurst happened to possess) amongst us; occasionally halting to rest, until about four P. M. when we were drummed in form through a village, and then retrograded, for the purpose of being drawn up in front of a large swinery, to witness the expulsion of pigs, sheep, and goats, to make room for us. In the course of an hour, the lieutenant gave us leave to dine in the village, attended by a sergeant, by which he incurred the displeasure of his brutal captain; we soon after returned to the place of confinement, where we remained smothered in dust and dirt, until the morning, when we were again mustered into ranks, and after receiving a black loaf and seven-pence halfpenny each, as five days’ pay, were drummed, as before, out of the village. Our march was through a rugged country, the scenery of which was very picturesque. The captain of the escort, generally keeping the interpreter by his side, occasionally (through him) entered into conversation with one or other of us; availing ourselves of a favourable opportunity, when apparently he was a little less morose than usual, we endeavoured to obtain permission to walk by ourselves, instead of being restricted to the ranks; but he was deaf to our request. We ceased to wonder that he should evince so little feeling for our situation, when he related story after story of the bloody deeds committed during the reign of terror, in which it seemed, by his own account, he had been a frequent and willing actor; he and the captain of the Rhin were, probably, fair specimens of the set of hardened miscreants which the revolution had produced, and served to show, that in those troublesome times, abandonment of principle and display of turpitude, no less than of talent, led the way to promotion and rank. The third night we arrived at Aix, and were confined in what appeared to have been an old convent, in the yard of which, being permitted to range, we seized the opportunity of washing our linen, and were much pleased to learn, that we were no longer to be escorted by that inhuman offspring of tumult, who had had charge of us from Toulon. He resigned us to the care of a venerable old gentleman, whose first act of kindness was to inquire, in what manner we had been treated by his predecessor, and who seemed indignantly surprised that no distinction had been made between the officers and the men. The knowledge of this unmerited and unjust severity excited his warmest sympathy, and called forth the exercise of those nobler feelings, which seemed to flow from a natural benevolence of heart, for his kindness and attentions were unbounded; whilst his affability and cheerfulness made us almost forget we were prisoners. “Voyons soyez gais,” observed this good old gentleman, “the day may come when you may think yourselves happy in having been prisoners.” Although I gave him full credit for his philosophy, and the benevolence which prompted the observation, and felt grateful for our change of treatment, yet the result proved him to be no prophet; for I have never had cause to rejoice at an event which kept me so many years back in the service; however, so it was, and I took advantage of my situation by endeavouring to learn something of the language, in occasional conversation with the interpreter; the next day’s march brought us to a dirty village, where the church was our prison for the night. On the 1st of September, we reached Tarascon, and were locked up in the tower; before the old officer took leave, he ordered the jailor to place us in a comfortable room by ourselves, and treat us as officers, though not on parole, that being contrary to the order from Toulon; in the morning he took us for a walk through the town, and in the afternoon sent a boy with us up the river, where we enjoyed a refreshing bathe; after washing and drying our linen, we reluctantly returned to prison; this was the first time since our capture that we had been without a guard, and might have easily decamped, had we been so inclined; but certainly no opportunity, however tempting, could have induced us to violate the frank and friendly confidence reposed in us by our philosophical veteran; in the evening he again visited us, and with much feeling, recommended us to the particular indulgence of his successor, who, for the sake of distinction, was dubbed the fat captain. Early the following day, we passed through the town of Beaucaire, and, arriving in the evening at Nismes, were marched to prison; but were soon permitted to go into the town, through the kind interference of some English gentlemen, here residing as “déténus.”

The next morning we breakfasted with a Mr. Walker, at whose house we had the good fortune to meet Doctor Grey, from whom we received the kindest attention; we dined with him on that day, and those who have the happiness of his acquain- tance, will best judge of the pleasure we experienced on that occasion; certainly his ravenous guests did ample justice to his genuine hospitality. During our sojourn at Nismes, the nationality of Englishmen was conspicuously shown forth in the assiduous attention of the “déténus” towards their captive countrymen; indeed, they considerably allayed the ennui and mortification of captivity, by confidently assuring us, that an exchange of prisoners had been arranged between the two governments, and that in six weeks we might rest satisfied of a happy return to the service of our country. In the full expectation of this desirable event, I availed myself of every opportunity, in the mean time, of acquiring some trifling knowledge of the French language. They also made a subscription for the men, which I distributed amongst them in equal portions.

About this time, Mr. Danderson, the master of the Transport, was kind enough to cash Whitehurst a draft for twenty pounds, by which means we fared much better. Proceeding on our journey, in two days we reached Montpellier, and were delivered into the hands of the commandant, for the night, who ordered us to be confined in the citadel. This was in so ruinous a state, that we might have decamped with little difficulty, had we known where to go or how to act; the subject was mentioned to me, but my hope of an early exchange (in which the right of being included was then understood to be forfeited by an attempt to escape), our total ignorance of the country, of the means of embarking, and of the language, induced me to think it unadvisable. Could I have foreseen what followed, I should have decided differently; nevertheless, my services were offered, but no attempt was made.

From Montpellier we proceeded to Beziers, thence to Narbonne; through Carcassone, Castelnaudary, Ville Franche, and several villages, until we arrived at Toulouse, on the 12th of September, when we were again placed at the head of the ranks, and drummed in triumph to the town hall. After remaining about an hour, surrounded by military and an immense populace, the guard was withdrawn, and we were desired to consider ourselves on parole; permission was given to take lodgings in the town, and we were further directed to apply for a passport, whenever we felt disposed to go beyond the suburbs.

The general, on being asked if our paroles were to be signed, replied, “No; a British officer values his honour too much, to render his signature necessary;” when this was repeated to us, it may easily be imagined with what patriotic importance the compliment to our national character was received; with what feelings of pride his Britannic Majesty’s midshipmen resolved to merit the eulogium of the enemy. On being told we might retire, the crowd fell back, opening a lane with a degree of civility and politeness that somewhat surprised us: we strolled up the nearest street, for all were alike to us, not knowing where to go, or what to do. To those who have never quitted their own fire sides, our situation at this moment may seem to have been desolate enough:—without friends; without experience; without any knowledge of the language of those, amongst whom the fate of war had thrown us. But sailors are not prone to despondency; and the buoyancy of youthful spirits kept us from dwelling upon present difficulties, or anticipating future troubles. There was, at any rate, a novelty in our present circumstances, which excited a pleasurable sensation, peculiar to itself, heightened, in some measure, by the knowledge that we were no longer subject to the caprice and insult of a military upstart, but enjoying, at least, a partial ray of liberty. Scarcely had we reached a cross street, when, as gazing around in the perplexity of indecision which way to turn, a gentleman came up, and, addressing us in English, volunteered his services in seeking a lodging; after rambling about some time, as if begging an entrance at every door, we found ourselves in one of the bye lanes, and here we succeeded in hiring a room at nine livres per month; the furni- ture of which consisted of a bed, not untenanted, three chairs and a table. In this hovel, Whitehurst, Murray, and myself existed three weeks; at the expiration of that period, our pay being augmented to twenty-five sols per day, we were enabled to dine at a “table-d’ hôte,” and get into a more comfortable lodging, with the additional luxury of a bed each.

Mr. Fitzsimons (the gentleman who procured us our first lodging) introduced me to a family of the name of Prevost, with whom he resided. It was from Mr. Fitzsimons that I learnt the first rudiments of the French language; but I was still more indebted to Mrs. Prevost, a most accomplished and pleasing lady, who took infinite pains to instruct me, and by whose flattering influence I was encouraged to apply so closely to my studies, that in two months I was able to make myself understood; my comrades were also studying French, and making rapid improvement; so that, stimulating each other to ardent exertion in our new pursuit, we seldom thought of amusements till the evening. Being considered as military officers, we were allowed the privilege of going to the theatre upon paying four shillings and eight-pence per month; this was not only an agreeable, but a profitable lounge, and we seldom neglected to attend. On the arrival of the officers who had been taken in the Redbridge, several of them joined our table-d’ hôte, and we mustered rather a large and merry party. With respect to society, I was more fortunate than my companions, as I frequently dined, and passed my evenings, at the Prevost’s. In the beginning of October, I received a remittance from my father, by which our means were so materially increased, that we no longer confined ourselves to short commons, but indulged in comforts to which we had long been strangers.

During our stay in this once noble capital, we past some happy days, and being in continual expectation of an exchange of prisoners, were the more anxious to acquire the language, before orders arrived to march us to the coast. The seamen were not all so patient, for several of them attempted to escape; one party of five, after marching and countermarching fourteen days, supposed they had reached the neighbourhood of the Pyrenees; when, to their utter surprise and consternation, they found themselves within a few miles of the town; thus situated, and being half starved, they despaired of getting away, and delivered themselves up. Notwithstanding this failure, several others made similar attempts, but I recollect only one individual who did not return to prison; and his success was owing to his having preserved his American passport, which he had obtained when afloat, to protect him from the impress. On the 2d of December, orders having arrived for our removal, I waited on Mrs. Prevost, to take leave; after expressing her sorrow at my departure, and the hopes she entertained of my return, she embraced me as tenderly as though I had been her own child. I left the house with gratitude and regret, joined my comrades, and, after a few necessary arrangements, bade a final adieu to Toulouse. The marching party consisted of eleven, who, being now considered on parole, had no guard; being accompanied only by one gendarme to shew the road, and take the “feuille de route;” a cart was allowed, to carry the baggage. We proceeded at discretion during three days, dined and slept at the different inns, like independent gentlemen, and enjoyed all the luxuries our limited finances would afford. On our arrival at Auch, about forty miles west of Toulouse, we hired lodgings, in different parties; six of us took up our quarters in the house of a “cidevant” nobleman, who was particularly kind on all occasions. He frequently amused us with the relation of his adventures, during the horrid times of blood and rapine; also with accounts of his subsequent travels; dwelling particularly on those in England, where he had passed some very happy days in high life. He possessed all the distinguishing qualities of the gentleman, and had all the communicative intelligence of the learned traveller, without any of that “gasconade,” that bombastic exaggeration, tending to self exaltation, for which the generality of French travellers are so famed; indeed, his every act and expression, whether flowing from head or heart, evinced that nature had bestowed upon him her choicest gifts, in bountiful profusion. During our stay at Auch, we had unrestricted liberty, and could ramble about the country at pleasure. On the 11th of December, an order arrived from Paris to send us to Verdun, and we were to set out the following day. Our finances being reduced to a very low ebb, we consulted our truly noble friend, who, not enduring the thought of our travelling such a distance, in the depth of winter, with nothing more than soldiers’ allowance, persuaded the bankers to lend me twenty pounds on a draft; this timely supply gave new vigour to our spirits, and enabled us to fortify ourselves against the inclemencies of the weather. At noon, we took leave of our worthy friend, and departed; and, arriving in the evening at Beaumont, we were very comfortably housed, yet strictly guarded. The next day, reaching Montauban, after a tedious march, we were drawn up in line, in front of the town hall, and formally inspected by the commissary, who, with much apparent politeness, enticed us into a prison by a most artful piece of duplicity, intended, no doubt, to wound our feelings; he was, however, disappointed in his hopes of annoyance, for we could not refrain from a general burst of laughter at the simple manner in which we had been entrapped. On entering a room, which had been formed by the spade, we found the barred windows but a few feet above the surface of the water; it was only on one side that we had either light or air, and this attended by the refreshing vapours of the river, and the cooling dampness of the surrounding earth, oozing salt-petre from every pore. We requested to be allowed to see the commandant, but to no effect; soon after, a lieutenant was sent to visit us, with whom we expostulated on the impropriety and hardship of our situation, observing, that in all civilized countries, officers, who had become prisoners of war, were put upon parole, and that during our travels in France, we had never, until now, experienced treatment which would have been tolerated only in the days of Robespierre. He was somewhat nettled at the remark, and told us, he was desired by the commandant, to say, that he was himself once a prisoner in England, and that, from having been confined in Dorchester castle, he had sworn to retaliate; that, exclusive of his oath, he had the most unlimited confidence in the British officers, but that he judged it prudent to have a little security also. This fellow, like his commissary, another of those “parvenus” sprung from the very dregs of the people, and actuated by pitiful motives of revenge, kept us immured in this most unhealthy hole, during the following day. On the morning of the 15th, we departed, with a different guard, and in the evening were comfortably billetted in a village. The next day, proceeding on our journey, we arrived, at a late hour, at Cahors. Thence we marched northwardly: nothing occurred worth notice, but the loss of the guards, who had fallen asleep in drunkenness; we, however, marched on without them. On the 19th, we slept at Gourdon; on the 20th, at Martel; and on the 21st, after marching over rocks and hills, in a wretched country, broke suddenly upon a most beautiful view over an extensive and rich valley, in the centre of which rises the town of Brive. Scarcely had we sat down to dinner at this place, when we were surprised by the gendarmes, who, from a state of consternation on account of the apprehended loss of their prisoners, became as much elated, when they found we were all present. On the 22nd, notwithstanding the weather was stormy, we were obliged to proceed, but, by the consent of the guards, hired mules, and got that night into Uzerches, a distance of about thirty-five miles; the next day we reached Limoges, and were conducted to the door of the prison; but there making a firm stand, in spite of the threats of the colonel, succeeded in obtaining permission from the general, to be quartered in an inn. A strong guard of veterans was, however, sent to surround the house. Here we remained the 24th; the 25th, when preparing to depart, a long bill was presented, with the expenses of the gendarmes included, and it was with much difficulty we could convince our host, that, not having invited them to guard us, we had too much urbanity to offer so gross an insult to the colonel, as to pay for his guests, and therefore desired that the demand might be made upon him; this so incensed these members of the legion of honour, that they swore it should cost us dear; however, nothing material occurred. Journeying on, and halting occasionally, as inclination urged, we ate our mournful Christmas dinner in a miserable village, where we stopped for the night. In this manner we trudged on, two days, and on the third, a dispute arose between the landlord and our commissariat department, in consequence of the nefarious impositions of the former, when the mayor interposed, and cast us, with costs.