The True story bookAndrew Lang, Henry Justice Ford








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THE TRUE STORY BOOK


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MONTEZUMA greets THE SPANIARDS


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iRUE STORY BOOK
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. THE
TRUE STORY BOOK
EDITED BY
ANDREW LANG

LONDON
LONGMANS, GEE EN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16"' STREET
1893
All rights reserved
f


PIZUC IIBKAHY


DEDICATION
TO FRANCIS McCUNN
You like the things I used to like,
The things I'mfond of still,
The sound of fairy wandsthat strike
meninto beasts at will;
The cruel stepmother, the fair
Stepdaughter, kind andleal,
The bull and bear so debonair.
The trenchant fairy steel.
You love the world where brute and fish
Converse with man and bird,
Wheredungeons open at a wish,
And seas dry at a word.
That merry world to-day we leave,
We list an oiver-true tale,
Of hearts thatsore for Charlie grieve,
When handsome princes fail.
Of gallant races overthrown,
Of dungeons ill to climb,
there'sno such talc of trouble known,
In all the fairy time.
There Montezuma still were king.
There Charles would wear the crown,
And there the Highlanders would ding
The Hanoverian down:


DEDICATION
In Fairyland the rightfulCause
Is never long a-winning,
In Fairyland the fairy laws
Are prompt to punish sinning:
For Fairyland's the land of joy,
And this the world of pain,
So back to Fairyland, my boy,
We'll journey once again!


INTRODUCTION
It is not without diffidence that the editor offers The TrueStory Book to children. We have now given them three
fairy books, and their very kind and flattering letters to the
editor prove, not only that they like the three fairy books, but
that they clamour for more. What disappointment, then, to
receive a volume full of adventures which actually happened
to real people! There is not a dragon in the collection, nor
even a giant; witches, here, play no part, and almost all the
characters are grown up. On the other hand, if we have no
fairies, we have princes in plenty, and a sweeter young prince
than Tearlach (as far as this part of his story goes) the
editor flatters himself that you shall nowhere find, not in
Grimm, or Dasent, or Perrault. Still, it cannot be denied
that true stories are not so good as fairy tales. They do not
always end happily, and, what is worse, they do remind a
young student of lessons and schoolrooms. A child may fear
that he is being taught under a specious pretence of diversion,
and that learning is being thrust on him under the disguise
of entertainment. Prince Charlie and Cortes may be asked
about in examinations, whereas no examiner has hitherto set-
questions on 'Blue Beard,' or 'Heart of Ice,' or 1 The Red Etin of Ireland.' There is, to be honest, no way of getting
over this difficulty. But the editor vows that he does not
mean to teach anybody, and he has tried to mix the stories


X
INTRODUCTION
up so much that no clear and consecutive view of history can
possibly be obtained from them ; i moreover, when history
does come in, it is not the kind of history favoured most by
examiners. They seldom set questions on the conquest of
Mexico, for example.
That is a very long story, but, to the editor's taste, it is
simply the best true story in the world, the most unlikely,
and the most romantic. For who could have supposed that
the new-found world of the West held all that wealth of
treasure, emeralds and gold, all those people, so beautiful
and brave, so courteous and cruel, with their terrible gods,
hideous human sacrifices, and almost Christian prayers?
That a handful of Spaniards, themselves mistaken for chil-
dren of a white god, should have crossed the sea, should have
found a lovely lady, as in a fairy tale, ready to lead them to
victory, should have planted the cross on the shambles of
Huitzilopochtli, after that wild battle on the Temple Crest, should have been driven in rout from, and then recaptured,
the Venice of the West, the lake city of Mexico—all this is as
strange, as unlooked for, as any story of adventures in a new
planet could be. No invention of fights and wanderings in
Noman's land, no search for the mines of Solomon the king,
can approach, for strangeness and romance, this tale, which is
true, and vouched for by Spanish conquerors like Bernal
Diaz, and by native historians like Ixtlilochitl, and by later
missionaries like Sahagun. Cortes is the great original of
all treasure-hunters and explorers in fiction, and here no
feigned tale can be the equal of the real. As Mr. Prescott's
admirable history is not a book much read by children (nor
even by 'grown-ups' for that matter), the editor hopes
children will be pleased to find the ' Adventures in Anahuac'
in this collection. Miss Edge worth tells us in Orlandino how
much the tale delighted the young before Mr. Prescott wrote


INTRODUCTION
xi
that excellent narrative of the world's chief adventure. May
it please still, as it did when the century was young!
The adventures of Prince Charlie are already known, in
part, to boys and girls who have read the Talesof a Grand-
father, for pleasure and not as a school book. But here Mrs.
McCunn has treated of them at greater length and more
minutely. The source, here, is in these seven brown octavo
volumes, all written in the closest hand, which are a treasure
of the Advocates' Library in Edinburgh. The author is Mr.
Forbes, a bishop of the persecuted Episcopalian Church in
Scotland. Mr. Forbes collected his information very carefully,
closely comparing the narratives of the various actors in the
story. Into the boards of his volumes are fastened a scrap of
the Prince's tartan waistcoat, a rag from his sprigged calico
dress, a bit of his brogues- a twopenny treasure that has been
wept and prayed over by the faithful. Nobody, in a book for
children, would have the heart to tell the tale of the Prince's
later years, of a moody, heart-broken, degraded exile. But,
in the hills and the isles, bating a little wilfulness and fool-
hardiness, and the affair of the broken punch-bowl, Prince
Charles is a model for princes and all men, brave, gay, much-
enduring, good-humoured, kind, royally courteous, and con-
siderate, even beyond what may be gathered from this part of
the book, while the loyalty of the Highlanders (as in the case
of Mackinnon, flogged nearly to death) was proof against tor-
ture as well as against gold. It is the Sobieski strain, not the
Stuart, that we here admire in Prince Charles; it is a piety, a
loyalty, a goodness like Gordon's that we revere in old Lord
Pitsligo in another story.
Many of the tales are concerned with fighting, for that is
the most dramatic part of mortal business. These English
captives who retake a ship from the Turks, these heroes of
the Shannon and the Chesapeake, were doubtless good men and


xii
INTRODUCTION
true in all their lives, but the light of history only falls on
them in war. The immortal Three Hundred of Thermopylae
would also have been unknown, had they not died, to a man,
for the sake of the honour of Lacedasmon. The editor con-
ceives that it would have been easy to give more' local colour'
to the sketch of Thermopylae: to have dealt in description of the
Immortals, drawn from the friezes in Susa, lately discovered
by French enterprise. But the story is Greek, and the Greeks
did not tell their stories in that way, but with a simplicity
almost bald. Yet who dare alter and ' improve ' the narrative
of Herodotus? In another most romantic event, the finding
of Vineland the Good, by Leif the Lucky, our materials are
vague with the vagueness of a dream. Later fancy has
meddled with the truth of the saga. English readers, no
doubt, best catch the charm of the adventure in Mr. Rudyard Kipling's astonishingly imaginative tale called 1 The Best Story
in the World.' For the account of Isandhlwana, and Rorke's Drift, ' an ower-true tale,' the editor has to thank his friend
Mr. Rider Haggard, who was in South Africa at the time of
the disaster, and who has generously given time and labour to
the task of ascertaining, as far as it can be ascertained, the
exact truth of the melancholy, but, finally, not inglorious, busi-
ness. The legend of ' Two Great Cricket Matches ' is taken,
in part, from Lillywhite's scores, and Mr. Robert Lyttelton's
spirited pages in the' Badminton ' book of Cricket. The second
match the editor writes of ' as he who saw it,' to quote Caxton
on Dares Phrygius. These legends prove that a match is
never lost till it is won.
Some of the True Stories contain, we may surmise, traces
of the imaginative faculty. The escapes of Benvenuto
Cellini, of Trenck, and of Casanova must be taken as the
heroes chose to report them; Benvenuto and Casanova have
no firm reputation for veracity. Again, the escape of Caesar


INTRODUCTION
xiii
Borgia is from a version handed down by the great Alexandre
Dumas, and we may surmise that Alexandre allowed it to
lose nothing in the telling; he may have ' given it a sword
and a cocked hat,' as was Sir Walter's wont. About Kaspar
Hauser's mystery we can hardly speak of 'the truth,' for
the exact truth will never be known. The depositions of the
earliest witnesses were not taken at once; some witnesses
altered their evidence in later years; parts of the records of
Nuremberg are lost in suspicious circumstances. The Duchess
of Cleveland's book, Kaspar Hauser, is written in defence of
her father, Lord Stanhope. The charges against Lord Stan-
hope, that he aided in, or connived at, the slaying of Kaspar,
because Kaspar was the true heir of the House of Baden—are
as childish as they are wicked. But the Duchess hardly allows
for the difficulties in which we find ourselves if we regard
Kaspar as absolutely and throughout an impostor. This, how-
ever, is not the place to discuss an historical mystery; this
'true story ' is told as a romance founded on fact; the hypo-
thesis that Kaspar was a son and heir of the house of Baden
seems, to the editor, to be absolutely devoid of evidence.
To Madame Von Piatt Stuart the author owes permis-
sion to quote the striking adventures of her father, or of her
uncle, on the flooded Findhorn. The Lays of the Deer
Forest, which contain this tale in the volume of notes, were
written by John Sobieski Stuart, and by Charles Edward
Stuart, and the editor is uncertain as to which of those
gentlemen was the hero of these perilous crossings of the
Highland river. Many other good tales, legends, and studies
of natural history and of Highland manners may be found in
the Lays of the Deer Forest, apart from the curious interest
of the poems. On the whole, with certain exceptions, the
editor has tried to find true stories rather out of the beaten
paths of history; the narrative of John Tanner, for instance(


xiv
INTRODUCTION
is probably true, but the book in which his adventures were
published is now rather difficult to procure. For 'A Boy
among the Bed Indians,' 'Two Cricket Matches,' 'The
Spartan Three Hundred,' 'The Finding of Vineland the
Good,' and 'The Escapes of Lord Pitsligo,' the editor is
himself responsible, as far as they do not consist of extracts
from the original sources. Miss May Kendall translated or
adapted Casanova's escape and the piratical and Algerine tales.
Mrs. Lang reduced the narrative of the Chevalier Johnstone,
and did the escapes of Caesar Borgia, of Trenck, and Cervantes,
while Miss Blackley renders that of Benvenuto Cellini. Mrs.
McCunn, as already said, compiled from the sources indicated
the Adventures of Prince Charles, and she tells the story
of Grace Darling; the contemporary account is, unluckily,
rather meagre. Miss Alleyne did 'The Kidnapping of the
Princes,' Mrs. Plowden the ' Story of Kaspar Hauser.' Miss
Wright reduced the Adventures of Cortes from Prescott,
and Mr. Rider Haggard has already been mentioned in con-
nection with Isandhlwana.
Here the editor leaves The True Story Book to the indul-
gence of children, explaining, once more, that his respect for
their judgment is very great, and that he would not dream of
imposing lessons on them, in the shape of a Christmas book.
No, lessons are one thing, and stories are another. But
though fiction is undeniably stranger and more attractive
than truth, yet true stories are also rather attractive and
strange, now and then. And, after all, we may return once
more to Fairyland, after this excursion into the actual worka-
day world.


-
CONTENTS
PAGE
A Boy among the Red
Indians .... 1
Casanova's Escape . . . 16
Adventures on the Findhorn . 29
The Story of Grace Darling . 41
The 'Shannon' and the
'Chesapeake' . . .48
Captain Snelgrave and the
Pirates 52
The Spartan Three Hundred. 64
Prince Charlie's Wanderings. 68
Two Great Matches . . 105
The Story of Kaspar Hauscr. 113
An Artist's Adventure . . 122
The Tale of Isandhlwana and
Rorke's Drift . . .132
How Leif the Lucky found
Yineland the Good. . . 153
The Escapes of Cervantes . 101
PAGE
The Worthy Enterprise of
John Foxe . . . . 168
Baron Trenck . . . 176
The Adventure of John
Rawlins 186
The Chevalier Johnstone's
Escape from Cidloden . 1<J3
The Adventures of Lord Pit-
sligo 207
The Escape of CaesarBorgia
from the Castle of Medina
del Campo .... 213
The Kidnapping of the Princes 219
The Conquest of Montezuma's
Empire 224
Adventures of Bartholomew
Portugues, a Pirate . . 326
The Return of the French
Freebooters . . . . 330
PLATES
Montezuma greets the Spaniards .
The Findhorn . . To face 36
Grace Darling . . „ 44
'Some of the Pirates
. . . had thrown
several Buckets of
Claret upon him . „ 60
The Ball hit the
Middle Stump . „ 108
Frontispiece
He prepared to attack
the Sentry . . To face 126
Montezuma greets the
Spaniards. . . „ 270
Cork's in the Temple
of Huitzilopochtli . „ 276
Montezuma assailed
by Missiles . . „ 296





A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
THE earliest event of my life which I distinctly remember (says
John Tanner) is the death of my mother. This happened when
I was two years old, and many of the attending circumstances
made so deep an impression that they are still fresh in my memory.
I cannot recollect the name of the settlement at which we lived,
but I have since learned it was on the Kentucky River, at a con-
siderable distance from the Ohio.
My father, whose name was John Tanner, was an emigrant
from Virginia, and had been a clergyman.
When about to start one morning to a village at some distance,
he gave, as it appeared, a strict charge to my sisters, Agatha
and Lucy, to send me to school; but this they neglected to do until
afternoon, and then, as the weather was rainy and unpleasant, I insisted
on remaining at home. When my father returned at night, and
found that I had been at home all day, he sent me for a parcel of
small canes, and flogged me much more severely than I could
suppose the offence merited. I was displeased with my sisters for
attributing all the blame to me, when they had neglected even to
tell me to go to school in the forenoon. From that time, my
father's house was less like home to me, and I often thought and
said, ' I wish I could go and live among the Indians.'
One day we went from Cincinnati to the mouth of the Big
Miami, opposite which we were to settle. Here was some cleared
land, and one or two log cabins, but they had been deserted on
account of the Indians. My father rebuilt the cabins, and inclosed
them with a strong picket. It was early in the spring when we
arrived at the mouth of the Big Miami, and we were soon engaged
in preparing a field to plant corn. I think it was not more than
ten days after our arrival, when my father told us in the morning,
that, from the actions of the horses, he perceived there were
Indians lurking about in the woods, and he said to me, 'John, you
B


2
A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
must not go outof the house to-day.' After giving strict charge to
my stepmother to let none of the little children go out, he went to
the field, with the negroes, and my elder brother, to drop corn.
Three little children, besides myself, were left in the house with
my stepmother. To prevent me from going out, my stepmother
required me to take care of the little child, then not more than a
few months old; but as I soon became impatient of confinement, I
began to pinch my little brother, to make him cry. My mother,
perceiving his uneasiness, told me to take him in my arms and
walk about the house; I did so, but continued to pinch him. My
mother at length took him from me to nurse him. I watched
my opportunity, and escaped into the yard; thence through a small
door in the large gate of the wall into the open field. There was a
walnut-tree at some distance from the house, and near the
side of the field where I had been in the habit of finding some of
the last year's nuts. To gain this tree without being seen by my
father and those in the field, I had to use some precaution. I
remember perfectly well having seen my father, as I skulked
towards the tree; he stood in the middle of the field, with his gun
in his hand, to watch for Indians, while the others were dropping
corn. As I came near the tree, I thought to myself, 'I wish I
could see these Indians.' I had partly filled with nuts a straw hat
which I wore, when I heard a crackling noise behind me; I looked
round, and saw the Indians; almost at the same instant, I was
seized by both hands, and dragged off betwixt two. One of them
took my straw hat, emptied the nuts on the ground, and put it on
my head. The Indians who seized me were an old man and a
young one; these were, as I learned subsequently, Manito-o-geezhik,
and his son Kish-kau-ko.
After I saw myself firmly seized by both wrists by the two
Indians, I was not conscious of anything that passed for a con-
siderable time. I must have fainted, as I did not cry out, and I
can remember nothing that happened to me until they threw me
over a large log, which must have been at a considerable distance
from the house. The old man I did not now see; I was dragged
along between Kish-kau-ko and a very short thick man. I had
probably made some resistance, or done something to irritate this
last, for he took me a little to one side, and drawing his tomahawk,
motioned to me to look up. This I plainly understood, from the
'expression of his face, and his manner, to be a direction for me to
look up for the last time, as he was about to kill me, I did as he


A BOY AMONG THEREDINDIANS 8
directed, but Kish-kau-ko caught his hand as the tomahawk was
descending, and prevented him from burying it in my brains.
Loud talking ensued between the two. Ivish-kau-ko presently raised

L yell: the old man and four others answered it by a similar yell,
and came running up. I have since understood that Ivish-kau-ko
complained to his father that the short man had made an attempt
n 2


4
A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
to kill his little brother, as he called me. The old chief, after re-
proving him, took me by one hand, and Kish-kau-ko by the other
and dragged me betwixt them, the man who had threatened to
kill me, and who was now an object of terror to me, being kept at
some distance. I could perceive, as I retarded them somewhat in
their retreat, that they were apprehensive of being overtaken ; some
of them were always at some distance from us.
It was about one mile from my father's house to the place
where they threw me into a hickory-bark canoe, which was con-
cealed under the bushes, on the bank of the river. Into this they
all seven jumped, and immediately crossed the Ohio, landing at the
mouth of the Big Miami, and on the south side of that river.
Here they abandoned their canoe, and stuck their paddles in the
ground, so that they could be seen from the river. At a little
distance in the woods they had some blankets and provisions con-
cealed; they offered me some dry venison and bear's grease, but
I could not eat. My father's house was plainly to be seen from
the place where we stood; they pointed at it, looked at me, and
laughed, but I have never known what they said.
After they had eaten a little, they began to ascend the Miami,
dragging me along as before.
It must have been early in the spring when we arrived at Sau-ge-
nong, for I can remember that at this time the leaves were small,
and the Indians were about planting their corn. They managed to
make me assist at their labours, partly by signs, and partly by the
few words of English old Manito-o-geezhik could speak. After
planting, they all left the village, and went out to hunt and dry
meat. When they came to their hunting-grounds, they chose a
place where many deer resorted, and here they began to build a
long screen like a fence; this they made of green boughs and small
trees. When they had built a part of it, they showed me how to
remove the leaves and dry brush from that side of it to which the
Indians were to come to shoot the deer. In this labour I was
sometimes assisted by the squaws and children, but at other times
I was left alone. It now began to be warm weather, and it hap-
pened one day that, having been left alone, as I was tired and thirsty,
I fell asleep. I cannot tell how long I slept, but when I began to
awake, I thought I heard someone crying a great way off. Then
I tried to raise up my head, but could not. Being now more awake?
I saw my Indian mother and sister standing by me, and perceived
that my face and head were wet. The old woman and her


A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
5
daughter were crying bitterly, but it was some time before I per-
ceived that my head was badly cut and bruised. It appears that,
after I had fallen asleep, Manito-o-geezhik, passing that way, had
perceived me, had tomahawked me, and thrown me in the bushes;
and that when he came to his camp he had said to his wife, ' Old
woman, the boy I brought you is good for nothing; I have killed
him; you will find him in such a place.' The old woman and her
daughter having found me, discovered still some signs of life, and
had stood over me a long time, crying, and pouring cold water on
my head, when I waked. In a few days I recovered in some
measure from this hurt, and was again set to work at the screen,
but I was more careful not to fall asleep; I endeavoured to assist
them at their labours, and to comply in all instances with their
directions, but I was notwithstanding treated with great harshness,
particularly by the old man, and his two sons She-mung and two- tash-e. While we remained at the hunting camp, one of them put
a bridle in my hand, and pointing in a certain direction motioned
me to go. I went accordingly, supposing he wished me to
bring a horse: I went and caught the first I could find, and in this
way I learned to discharge such services as they required of me.
I had been about two years at Sau-ge-nong, when a great council
was called by the British agents at Mackinac. This council was
attended by the Sioux, the Winnebagoes, the Menomonees, and
many remote tribes, as well as by the Ojibbeways, Ottawwaws, &c.
When old Manito-o-geezhik returned from this council, I soon
learned that he had met there his kinswoman, Net-no-kwa, who, not-
withstanding her sex, was then regarded as principal chief of the
Ottawwaws. This woman had lost her son, of about my age, by death;
and,having heard of me, she wished to purchase me to supply his place.
My old Indian mother, the Otter woman, when she heard of this,
protested vehemently against it. I heard her say, ' My son has
been dead once, and has been restored to me; I cannot lose him
again.' But these remonstrances had little influence when
Net-no-kwa arrived with plenty of whisky and other presents.
She brought to the lodge first a ten-gallon keg of whisky, blankets,
tobacco, and other articles of great value. She was perfectly
acquainted with the dispositions of those with whom she had to
negotiate. Objections were made to the exchange until the con-
tents of the keg had circulated for some time; then an additional
keg, and a few more presents, completed the bargain, and I was
transferred to Net-no-kwa. This woman, who was then advanced


6
A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
in years, was of a more pleasing aspect than my former mother.
She took mo by the hand, after she had completed the negotiation
with my former possessors, and led me to her own lodge, which
stood near. Here I soon found I was to be treated more indul-
gently than I had been. She gave me plenty of food, put good
clothes upon me, and told me to go and play with her own sons
We remained but a short time at Sau-ge-nong. She would not
stop with me at Mackinac, which we passed in the night, but ran
along to Point St. Ignace, where she hired some Indians to take
care of me, while she returned to Mackinac by herself, or with one
or two of her young men. After finishing her business at
Mackinac, she returned, and, continuing on our journey, we arrived
in a few days at Shab-a-wy-wy-a-gun.
The husband of Net-no-kwa was an Ojibbeway of Red River,
called Taw-ga-we-ninne, the hunter. He was seventeen years
younger than Net-no-kwa, and had turned off a former wife on
being married to her. Taw-ga-we-ninne was always indulgent and
kind to me, treating me like an equal, rather than as a dependent.
When speaking to me, he always called me his son. Indeed, he
himself was but of secondary importance in the family, as every-
thing belonged to Net-no-kwa, and she had the direction in all
affairs of any moment. She imposed on me, for the first year,
some tasks. She made me cut wood, bring home game, bring
water, and perform other services not commonly required of the
boys of my age; but she treated me invariably with so much kind-
ness that I was far more happy and content than I had been in the
family of Manito-o-geezhik. She sometimes whipped me, as she
did her own children: but I was not so severely and frequently
beaten as I had been before.
Early in the spring, Net-no-kwa and her husband, with their
family, started to go to Mackinac. They left me, as they had
done before, at Point St. Ignace, as they would not run the risk of
losing me by suffering me to be seen at Mackinac. On our return,
after we had gone twenty-five or thirty miles from Point St.
Ignace, we were detained by contrary winds at a place Gold man, a point running out into the lake. Here we en-
camped with some other Indians, and a party of traders. Pigeons
were very numerous in the woods, and the boys of my age, and the
traders, were busy shooting them. I had never killed any game,
and, indeed, had never in my life discharged a gun. My mother
had purchased at Mackinac a keg of powder, which, as they thought


A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
7
it a little damp, was here spread out to dry. Taw-ga-we-ninne
had a large horseman's pistol; and, finding myself-somewhat em-
boldened by his indulgent manner toward me, I requested per-
mission to go and try to kill some pigeons with the pistol. My
request was seconded by Net-no-kwa, who said, 'It is time for our
son to begin to learn to be a hunter.' Accordingly, my father, as
I called Taw-ga-we-ninne, loaded the pistol and gave it to me, say-
ing, ' Go, my son, and if you kill anything with this, you shall
immediately have a gun and learn to hunt.' Since I have been a
man, I have been placed in difficult situations; but my anxiety for
success was never greater than in this, my first essay as a hunter, I had not gone far from the camp before I met with pigeons,
and some of them alighted in the bushes very near me. I cocked
my pistol, and raised it to my face, bringing the breech almost in
contact with my nose. Having brought the sight to bear upon the
pigeon, I pulled trigger, and was in the next instant sensible of a
humming noise, like that of a stone sent swiftly through the air, I found the pistol at the distance of some paces behind me, and
the pigeon under the tree on which he had been sitting. My face
was much bruised, and covered with blood. I ran home, carrying
my pigeon in triumph. My face was speedily bound up; my pistol
exchanged for a fowling-piece; I was accoutred with a powder-
horn, and furnished with shot, and allowed to go out after birds.
One of the young Indians went with me, to observe my manner
of shooting. I killed three more pigeons in the course of the
afternoon, and did not discharge my gun once without killing.
Henceforth I began to be treated with more consideration, and was
allowed to hunt often, that I might become expert.
Game began to be scarce, and we all suffered from hunger.
The chief man of our band was called As-sin-ne-boi-nainse (the
Little Assinneboin), and he now proposed to us all to move, as the
country where we were was exhausted. The day on which we
were to commence our removal was fixed upon, but before it
arrived our necessities became extreme. The evening before the
day on which we intended to move my mother talked much of all
our misfortunes and losses, as well as of the urgent distress under
which we were then laboring. At the usual hour I went to sleep,
as did all the younger part of the family; but I was wakened
again by the loud praying and singing of the old woman, who con-
tinued her devotions through great part of the night. Very early
on the following morning she called us all to get up, and put on


8
A BOY AMONG THE REDINDIANS
Our moccasins, and be ready to move. She then called Wa-me-
gon-a-biew to her, and said to him, in rather a low voice, 'My son,
last night I sung and prayed to the Great Spirit, and when I slept,
there came to me one like a man, and said to me, " Net-no-kwa,
to-morrow you shall eat a bear. There is, at a distance from the
path you are to travel to-morrow, and in such a direction " (which
she described to him), " a small round meadow, with something like
a path leading from it; in that path there is a bear." Now, my
son, I wish you to go to that place, without mentioning to anyone
what I have said, and you will certainly find the bear, as I have
described to you.' But the young man, who was not particularly
dutiful, or apt to regard what his mother said, going out of the
lodge, spoke sneeringly to the other Indians of the dream. 'The
old woman,' said he, 'tells me we are to eat a bear to-day; but I
do not know who is to kill it.' The old woman, hearing him, called
him in, and reproved him; but she could not prevail upon him to
go to hunt.
I had my gun with me, and I continued to think of the conver-
sation I had heard between my mother and Dis respecting her dream. At length I resolved to go in search of the
place she had spoken of, and without mentioning to anyone my
design, I loaded my gun as for a bear, and set off on our back track.
I soon met a woman belonging to one of the brothers of Taw-ga-
we-ninne, and of course my aunt. This woman had shown little
friendship for us, considering us as a burthen upon her husband,
who sometimes gave something for our support; She had also often
ridiculed me. She asked me immediately what I was doing on the
path, and whether I expected to kill Indians, that I came there
with my gun. I made her no answer; and thinking I must be not
far from the place where my mother had told Wa-me-gon-a-biew to
leave the path, I turned off, continuing carefully to regard all the
directions she had given. At length I found what appeared at
some former time to have been a pond. It was a small, round,
open place in the woods, now grown up with grass and small
bushes. This I thought must be the meadow my mother had
spoken of; and examining around it, I came to an open space in the
bushes, where, it is probable, a small brook ran from the meadow;
but the snow was now so deep that I could see nothing of it. My
mother had mentioned that, when she saw the bear in her dream,
she had, at the same time, seen a smoke rising from the ground, I was confident this was the place she had indicated, and I watched


A BOY AMONG THE REDINDIANS 9
long, expecting to see the smoke; but, wearied at length with waiting,
I walked a few paces into the open place, resembling a path, when
I unexpectedly fell up to my middle in the snow. I extricated
myself without difficulty, and walked on; but, remembering that I
had heard the Indians speak of killing bears in their holes, it
occurred to me that it might be a bear's hole into which I had
fallen, and, looking down into it, I saw the head of a bear lying
close to the bottom of the hole. I placed the muzzle of my gun
nearly between his eyes and discharged it. As soon as the smoke
cleared away, I took a piece of stick and thrust it into the eyes and
into the wound in the head of the bear, and, being satisfied that he
was dead, I endeavoured to lift him out of the hole; but being
unable to do this, I returned home, following the track I had made
in coming out. As I came near the camp, where the squaws had
by this time set up the lodges, I met the same woman I had seen
in going out, and she immediately began again to ridicule me.
'Have you killed a bear, that you come back so soon, and walk so
fast?' I thought to myself, ' How does she know that I have killed
a bear?' But I passed by her without saying anything, and went
into my mother's lodge. After a few minutes, the old woman said,
1 My son, look in that kettle, and you will find a mouthful of beaver
meat, which a man gave me since you left us in the morning. You
must leave half of it for Wa-me-gon-a-biew, who has not yet
returned from hunting, and has eaten nothing to-day.' I accordingly
ate the beaver meat, and when I had finished it, observing an
opportunity when she stood by herself, I stepped up to her, and
whispered in her ear, ' My mother, I have killed a bear.' 'What do
you say, my son?' said she. 'I have killed a bear.' 'Are you
sure you have killed him?' 'Yes.' 'Is he quite dead?' 'Yes.'
She watched my face for a moment, and then caught me in
her arms, hugging and kissing me with great earnestness, and
for a long time. I then told her what my aunt had said
to me, both going and returning, and this being told to her
husband when he returned, he not only reproved her for it, but
gave her a severe flogging. The bear was sent for, and, as being
the first I had killed, was cooked all together, and the hunters of
the whole band invited to feast with us, according to the custom
of the Indians. The same day one of the Crees killed a bear and
a moose, and gave a large share of the meat to my mother.
One winter I hunted for a trader called by the Indians Aneeb,
which means an elm-tree. As the winter advanced, and the


10
A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
weather became more and more cold, I found it difficult to procure
as much game as I had been in the habit of supplying, and as was
wanted by the trader. Early one morning, about mid-winter, I
started an elk. I pursued until night, and had almost overtaken
him; but hope and strength failed me at the same time. What

clothing I had on me, notwithstanding the extreme coldness of the
weather, was drenched with sweat. It was not long after I turned
towards home that I felt it stiffening about me. My leggings were
of cloth, and were torn in pieces in running through the bush. I
was conscious I was somewhat frozen before I arrived at the place
where I had left our lodge standing in the morning, and it was now


A BOY AMONG THE REDINDIANS
11
midnight. I knew it had been the old woman's intention to move,
and I knew where she would go; but I had not been informed she
would go on that day. As I followed on their path, I soon ceased
to suffer from cold, and felt that sleepy sensation which I knew
preceded the last stage of weakness in such as die of cold. I re-
doubled my efforts, but with an entire consciousness of the danger
of my situation ; it was with no small difficulty that I could prevent
myself from lying down. At length I lost all consciousness for
some time, how long I cannot tell, and, awaking as from a dream,
I found I had been walking round and round in a small circle not
more than twenty or twenty-five yards over. After the return of
my senses, I looked about to try to discover my path, as I had
missed it; but, while I was looking, I discovered a light at a dis-
tance, by which I directed my course. Once more, before I reached
the lodge, I lost my senses; but I did not fall down; if I had, I
should never have got up again; but I ran round and round in a
circle as before. When I at last came into the lodge, I immediately
fell down, but I did not lose myself as before. I can remember
seeing the thick and sparkling coat of frost on the inside of the
pukkwi lodge, and hearing my mother say that she had kept a
large fire in expectation of my arrival; and that she had not thought
I should have been so long gone in the morning, but that I should
have known long before night of her having moved. It was a
month before I was able to go out again, my face, hands, and
legs having been much frozen.
There is, on the bank of the Little Saskawjewun, a place which
looks like one the Indians would always choose to encamp at. In
a bend of the river is a beautiful landing-place, behind it a little plain,
a thick wood, and a small hill rising abruptly in the rear. But
with that spot is connected a story of fratricide, a crime so un-
common that the spot where it happened is held in detestation, and
regarded with terror. No Indian will land his canoe, much less
encamp, at 'the place of the two dead men.' They relate that
many years ago the Indians were encamped here, when a quarrel
arose between two brothers, having she-she-gwi for totems.' One
drew his knife and slew the other; but those of the band who were
present, looked upon the crime as so horrid that, without hesitation
or delay, they killed the murderer, and buried them together.
As I approached this spot, I thought much of the story of the
two brothers, who bore the same totem with myself, and were, as I
1 The totem is the crest of the Indians.


12
A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
supposed, related to my Indian mother. I had heard it said that,
if any man encamped near their graves, as some had done soon
after they were buried, they would be seen to come out of the
ground, and either re-act the quarrel and the murder, or in some
other manner so annoy and disturb their visitors that they could
not sleep. Curiosity was in part my motive, and I wished to be
able to tell the Indians that I not only stopped, but slept quietly
at a place which they shunned with so much fear and caution.
The sun was going down as I arrived; and I pushed my little
canoe in to the shore, kindled a fire, and, after eating my supper,
lay down and slept. Very soon I saw the two dead men come and
sit down by my fire, opposite me. Their eyes were intently fixed
upon me, but they neither smiled nor said anything. I got up
and sat opposite them by the fire, and in this situation I awoke.
The night was dark and gusty, but I saw no men, or heard any
other sound than that of the wind in the trees. It is likely I fell
asleep again, for I soon saw the same two men standing below the bank
of the river, their heads just rising to the level of the ground I had
made my fire on, and looking at me as before. After a few minutes,
they rose one after the other, and sat down opposite me; but now
they were laughing, and pushing at me with sticks, and using
various methods of annoyance. I endeavoured to speak to them,
but my voice failed me; I tried to fly, but my feet refused to do, their office. Throughout the whole night I was in a state of agita-
tion and alarm. Among other things which they said to me, one
of them told me to look at the top of the little hill which stood
near. I did so, and saw a horse fettered, and standing looking at
me. 'There, my brother,' said the ghost, ' is a horse which I give
you to ride on your journey to-morrow; and as you pass here on
your way home, you can call and leave the horse, and spend
another night with us.'
At last came the morning, and I was in no small degree pleased
to find that with the darkness of the night these terrifying visions
vanished. But my long residence among the Indians, and the
frequent instances in which I had known the intimations of dreams
verified, occasioned me to think seriously of the horse the ghost had
given me. Accordingly I went to the top of the hill, where I dis-
covered tracks and other signs, and, following a little distance,
found a horse, which I knew belonged to the trader I was going to
see. As several miles travel might be saved by crossing from this
point on the Little Saskawjewun to the Assinneboin, I left the


A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS 13
canoe, and, having caught the horse, and put my load upon him,
led him towards the trading-house, where I arrived next day. In
all subsequent journeys through this country, I carefully shunned
'the place of the two dead'; and the account I gave of what I had
seen and suffered there confirmed the superstitious terrors of the
Indians.
I was standing by our lodge one evening, when I saw a
good-looking young woman walking about and smoking. She
noticed me from time to time, and at last came up and asked me
to smoke with her. I answered that I never smoked. 'You do
not wish to touch my pipe; for that reason you will not smoke
with me.' I took her pipe and smoked a little, though I had not
been in the habit of smoking before. She remained some time, and
talked with me, and I began to be pleased with her. After this we
saw each other often, and I became gradually attached to her.
I mention this because it was to this woman that I was after-
wards married, and because the commencement of our acquaintance
was not after the usual manner of the Indians. Among them it
most commonly happens, even when a young man marries a
woman of his own band, he has previously had no personal
acquaintance with her. They have seen each other in the village;
he has perhaps looked at her in passing, but it is probable they
have never spoken together. The match is agreed on by the old
people, and when their intention is made known to the young
couple, they commonly find, in themselves, no objection to the
arrangement, as they know, should it prove disagreeable mutually,
or to either party, it can at any time be broken off.
I now redoubled my diligence in hunting, and commonly came
home with meat in the early part of the day, at least before night.
I then dressed myself as handsomely as I could, and walked about
the village, sometimes blowing the Pe-be-gwun, or flute. For
some time Mis-kwa-bun-o-kwa pretended she was not willing to
marry me, and it was not, perhaps, until she perceived some abate-
ment of ardour on my part that she laid this affected coyness
entirely aside. For my own part, I found that my anxiety to take
a wife home to my lodge was rapidly becoming less and less. I
made several efforts to break off the intercourse, and visit her no
more; but a lingering inclination was too strong for me. When'
she perceived my growing indifference, she sometimes reproached
me, and sometimes sought to move me by tears and entreaties; but
I said nothing to the old woman about bringing her home, and


14
A BOY AMONG THE RED INDIANS
became daily more and more unwilling to acknowledge her publicly
as my wife.
About this time I had occasion to go to the trading-house on
Red River, and I started in company with a half-breed belonging
to that establishment, who was mounted on a fleet horse. The dis-
tance we had to travel has since been called by the English settlers
seventy miles. We rode and went on foot by turns, and the one
who was on foot kept hold of the horse's tail, and ran. We passed
over the whole distance in one day. In returning, I was by myself,
and without a horse, and I made an effort, intending, if possible, to
accomplish the same journey in one day; but darkness, and
excessive fatigue, compelled me to stop when I was within about ten
miles of home.
When I arrived at our lodge, on the following day, I saw Mis-
kwa-bun-o-kwa sitting in my place. As I stopped at the door of
the lodge, and hesitated to enter, she hung down her head; but
Net-no-kwa greeted me in a tone somewhat harsher than was
common for her to use to me. 'Will you turn back from the door
of the lodge, and put this young woman to shame, who is in all
respects better than you are? This affair has been of your seeking,
and not of mine or hers. You have followed her about the village
heretofore; now you would turn from her, and make her appear
like one who has attempted to thrust herself in your way.' I was, in
part, conscious of the justness of Net-no-kwa's reproaches, and in
part prompted by inclination; I went in and sat down by the side
of Mis-kwa-bun-o-kwa, and thus we became man and wife. Old
Net-no-kwa had, while I was absent at Red River, without my
knowledge or consent, made her bargain with the parents of the
young woman, and brought her home, rightly supposing that it
would be no difficult matter to reconcile me to the measure. In
most of the marriages which happen between young persons, the
parties most interested have less to do than in this case. The
amount of presents which the parents of a woman expect to receive
in exchange for her diminishes in proportion to the number of
husbands she may have had.
I now began to attend to some of the ceremonies of what may
be called the initiation of warriors, this being the first time I had
been on a war-party. For the first three times that a man accom-
panies a war-party, the customs of the Indians require some peculiar
and painful observances, from which old warriors may, if they
choose, be exempted. The young warrior must constantly paint


A BOY AMONG THE REDINDIANS 15
his face black; must wear a cap, or head-dress of some kind; must
never precede the old warriors, but follow them, stepping in their
tracks. He must never scratch his head, or any other part of his
body, with his fingers, but if he is compelled to scratch he must
use a small stick; the vessel he eats or drinks out of, or the knife
he uses, must be touched by no other person.
The young warrior, however long and fatiguing the march,
must neither eat, nor drink, nor sit down by day; if he halts for a
moment, he must turn his face towards his own country, that the
Great Spirit may see that it is his wish to return home again.
It was Tanner's wish to return home again, and after many
dangerous and disagreeable adventures he did at last, when almost
an old man, come back to the Whites and tell his history, which, as
he could not write, was taken down at his dictation.'
1 From Tanner's Captivity. New York, 1830.


16
CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
IN July 1755 Casanova di Seingalt, a Venetian gentleman, who,
by reason of certain books of magic he possessed, fell under the
displeasure of the Church, was imprisoned by order of the Inquisi-
tion in a cell in the ducal palace.
The cell in which he was, imprisoned was one of seven called
1 The Leads,' because they were under the palace roof, which was
covered neither by slates nor bricks, but great heavy sheets of
lead. They were guarded by archers, and could only be reached
by passing through the hall of council. The secretary of the In-
quisition had charge of their key, which the gaoler, after going the
round of the prisoners, restored to him every morning. Four of the
cells faced eastward over the palace canal, the other three westward
over the court. Casanova's was one of the three, and he calcu-
lated that it was exactly above the private room of the inquisitors.
For many hours after the gaoler first turned the key upon
Casanova he was left alone in the gloomy cell, not high enough for
him to stand upright in, and destitute even of a couch. He laid
aside his silk mantle, his hat adorned with Spanish lace and a
white plume—for, when roused from sleep and arrested by the In-
quisition, he had put on the suit lying ready, in which he intended
to have gone to a gay entertainment. The heat of the cell was
extreme: the prisoner leaned his elbows on the ledge of the grating
which admitted to the cell what light there was, and fell into a
deep and bitter reverie. Eight hours passed, and then the complete
solitude in which he was left began to trouble him. Another hour,
another, and another; but when night really fell, to take Casanova's
own account,
'I became like a raging madman, stamping, cursing, and utter-
ing wild cries. After more than an hour of this furious exercise,
seeing no one, not hearing the least sign which could have made
me imagine that anyone was aware of my fury, I stretched myself


CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
17
on the ground. . . . But my bitter grief and anger, and the hard
floor on which I lay, did not prevent me from sleeping.
'The midnight bell woke me: I could not believe that I had
really passed three hours without consciousness of pain. Without
moving, lying as I was on my left side, I stretched out my right
hand for my handkerchief, which I remembered was there. Grop-
ing with my hand—heavens ! suddenly it rested upon another hand,
icy cold 1 Terror thrilled me from head to foot, and my hair rose:
I had never in all my life known such an agony of fear, and would
never have thought myself capable of it.
'Three or four minutes I passed, not only motionless, but be-
reft of thought; then, recovering my senses, I began to think that
the hand I touched was imaginary. In that conviction I stretched
out my arm once more, only to encounter the same hand, which,
with a cry of horror, I seized, and let go again, drawing back my
own. I shuddered, but being able to reason by this time, I
decided that while I slept a corpse had been laid near me—for I
was sure there was nothing when I lay down on the floor. But
whose was the dead body? Some innocent sufferer, perhaps one
of my own friends, whom they had strangled, and laid there that I
might find before my eyes when I woke the example of what my
own fate was to be? That thought made me furious: for the third
time I approached the hand with my own: I clasped it, and at the
same instant I tried to rise, to draw this dead body towards me,
and be certain of the hideous crime. But, as I strove to prop my-
self on my left elbow, the cold hand I was clasping became alive,
and was withdrawn—and I knew that instant, to my utter aston-
ishment, that I held none other than my own left hand, which,
lying stiffened on the hard floor, had lost heat and sensation entirely.'
That incident, though comic, did not cheer Casanova, but gave
him matter for the darkest reflections—since he saw himself in a
place where, if the unreal seemed so true, reality might one day
become a dream. In other words, he feared approaching madness.
But at last came daybreak, and by-and-by the gaoler returned,
asking the prisoner if he had had time to find out what he would
like to eat. Casanova was allowed to send for all he needed from
his own. apartments in Venice, but writing-implements, any metal
instruments whatever, even knife and fork, and the books he men-
tioned, were struck from his list. The inquisitors sent him books
which they themselves thought suitable, and which drove him, he
said, to the verge of madness.
C


18
NESCAPE
He was not ill-treated—having a daily allowance given him to
buy what food he liked, which was more than he could spend.
But the loss of liberty soon became insupportable. For months he believed that his deliverance was close at hand; but when Novem-
ber came, and he saw no prospect of release, he began to form pro-

jects of escape. And soon the idea of freeing himself, however wild
and impossible it seemed, took complete possession of him.
By-and-by he was allowed half an hour's daily promenade in
the corridor (galetas) outside his cell—a dingy, rat-infested place,
into which old rubbish was apt to drift. One day Casanova noticed
a piece of black marble on the floor—polished, an inch thick and


CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
19
six inches long. He picked it up stealthily, and without any
definite intention, managed to hide it away in his cell.
Another morning his eyes fell upon a long iron bolt, lying on
the floor with other old odds and ends, and that also, concealed in
his dress, he bore into his cell. When left alone, he examined it
carefully, and realised that if pointed, it would make an excellent
spontoon. He took the black marble, and after grinding one end
of the bolt against it for a long while, he saw that he had really
succeeded in wearing the iron down. For fifteen days he worked,
till he could hardly stir his right arm, and his shoulder felt almost
dislocated. But he had made the bolt into a real tool; or, if
necessary, a weapon, with an excellent point. He hid it in the
straw of his armchair so carefully that, to find it, one must have
known that it was there; and then he began to consider what use
he should make of it.
He was certain that the room underneath was the one in which
on entering he had seen the secretary of the Inquisition, and which
was probably opened every morning. A hole once made in the
floor, he could easily lower himself by a rope made of the sheets
of his bed, and fastened to one of the bed-posts. He might hide
under the great table of the tribunal till the door was opened, and
then make good his escape. It was probable, indeed, that one of
the archers would mount guard in this room at night; but him
Casanova resolved to kill with his pointed iron. The great diffi-
culty really was that the hole in the floor was not to be made in a
day, but might be a work of months. And therefore some pretext
must be found to prevent the archers from sweeping out the cell,
as they were accustomed to do every morning.
Some days after, alleging no reason, he ordered the archers not
to sweep. This omission was allowed to pass for several mornings,
and then the gaoler demanded Casanova's reason. He answered,
that the dust settled on his lungs, and made him cough, and might
give him a mortal disease. Laurent, the gaoler, offered to throw
water on the floor before sweeping it; but Casanova's arguments
against the dampness of the atmosphere that would result were
equally ingenious. Laurent's suspicions, however, were roused,
and one day he ordered the room to be swept most carefully, and
even lit a candle, and on the pretence of cleanliness, searched the
cell thoroughly. Casanova seemed indifferent, but the next day,
having pricked his finger, he showed his handkerchief stained with
blood, and said that the gaoler's cruelty had brought on so severe a
c2


20
CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
cough that he had actually broken a small blood-vessel. A doctor
was sent for, who took the prisoner's part, and forbade sweeping
out the cell in future. One great point was gained; but the work
could not begin yet, owing to the fearful cold. The prisoner would
have been forced to wear gloves, and the sight of a worn glove
might have excited suspicion. So he occupied himself with another
stratagem—the creation, little by little, of a lamp, for the solace of
the endless winter nights. One by one, the gaoler himself, unsus-
pectingly, brought the different ingredients: oil was imported in
salads, wick the prisoner himself made from threads pulled from
the quilt, and in time the lamp was complete.
The very unwelcome sojourn of a Jewish usurer, like himself
captive of the Inquisition, in his cell, forced Casanova to delay his
projects of escape till after Easter, when the Jew was imprisoned
elsewhere.
No sooner had he left than Casanova, by the light of the lamp
constructed with so much difficulty, began his task. Drawing his
bed away, he set to work to bore through the plank underneath,
gathering the fragments of wood in a napkin—which the next
morning he contrived to empty out behind a heap of old cahier books
in the corridor—and after six hours' labour, pulling back his bed,
which concealed all trace of it from the gaoler's eyes.
The first plank was two inches thick; the next day he found
another plank beneath it, and he pierced this only to find a third
plank. It was three weeks before he dug out a cavity large enough
for his purpose in this depth of wood, and his disappointment was
great when, underneath the planks, he came to a marble pavement
which resisted his one tool. But he remembered having read of a
general who had broken with an axe hard stones, which he first
made brittle by vinegar, and this Casanova possessed. He poured
a bottle of strong vinegar into the hole, and the next day, whether
it was the effect of the vinegar or of his stronger resolution, he
managed to loosen the cement which bound the pieces of marble
together, and in four hours had destroyed the pavement, and found
another plank, which, however, he believed to be the last.
At this point his work was once more interrupted by the
arrival of a fellow-prisoner, who only stayed, however, for eight
days. A more serious delay was caused by the fact that unwittingly
a part of his work had been just above one of the great beams that
supported the ceiling, and he was forced to enlarge the hole by one-
fourth. But at last all was done. Through a hole so thin as to be


CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
21
quite imperceptible from below he saw the room underneath.
There was only a thin film of wood to be broken through on the
night of his escape. For various reasons, he had fixed on the
night of August 27. But hear his own words:
'On the 25th,' writes Casanova, 'there happened what makes
me shudder even as I write. Precisely at noon I heard the rattling
of bolts, a fearful beating of my heart made me think that my last
moment had come, and I flung myself on my armchair, stupefied.
Laurent entered, and said gaily:
'" Sir, I have come to bring you good news, on which I con-
gratulate you!"
'At first I thought my liberty was to be restored—I knew no
other news which could be good; and I saw that I was lost, for
the discovery of the hole would have undone me. But Laurent
told me to follow him. I asked him to wait till I got ready.
1 " No matter," he said, "you are only going to leave this dismal
cell for a light one, quite new, where you can see half Venice through the two windows; where you can stand upright; where ''
'But I cannot bear to write of it—I seemed to be dying. I
implored Laurent to tell the secretary that I thanked the tribunal
for its mercy, but begged it in Heaven's name to leave me where I
was. Laurent told me, with a burst of laughter, that I was mad,
that my present cell was execrable, and that I was to be transferred
to a delightful one.
'" Come, come, you must obey orders," he exclaimed.
'He led me away. I felt a momentary solace in hearing him
order one of his men to follow with the armchair, where my
spontoon was still concealed. That was always something! If my
beautiful hole in the floor, that I had made with such infinite pains,
could have followed me too—but that was impossible! My body
went; my soul stayed behind.
'As soon as Laurent saw me in the fresh cell, he had the arm-
chair set down. I flung myself upon it, and he went away, telling
me that my bed and all my other belongings should be brought to
me at once.'
For two hours Casanova was left alone in his new cell, utterly
hopeless, and expecting to be consigned for the rest of his life to
one of the palace dungeons, from which no escape could be possible.
Then the gaoler returned, almost mad with rage, and demanded
the axe and all the instruments which the prisoner must have em-
ployed in penetrating the marble pavement. Calmly, without


22
CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
stirring, Casanova told him that he did not know what he was
talking about, but that, if he had procured tools, it could only
have been from Laurent himself, who alone had entrance to the cell.
Such a reply did not soften the gaoler's anger, and for some
time Casanova was very badly treated. Everything was searched;
but his tool had been so cleverly concealed that Laurent never
found it. Fortunately it was the gaoler's interest not to let the
tribunal know of the discovery he had made. He had the floor of
the cell mended without the knowledge of the secretary of the
Inquisition, and when this was done, and he found himself secure
from blame, Casanova had little difficulty in making peace with
him, and even told him the secret of the lamp's construction.
Fortunately, out of the tribunal's allowance to the prisoner
enough was always left, after he had provided for his own needs,
for a gift—or bribe, to the gaoler. But Laurent did not relax his
vigilance, and every morning one of the archers went round the
cell with an iron bar, giving blows to walls and floor, to assure
himself that there was nothing broken. But he never struck the
ceiling, a fact which Casanova resolved to turn to account at the
first opportunity.
One day the prisoner ordered his gaoler to buy him a particular
book, and Laurent, objecting to an expense which seemed to him
quite needless, offered to borrow him a book of one of the other
prisoners, in exchange for one of his own. Here at last was an
opportunity. Casanova chose a volume out of his small library,
and gave it to the gaoler, who returned in a few minutes with a
Latin book belonging to one of the other prisoners.
Pen and ink were forbidden, but in this book Casanova found a
fragment of paper; and he contrived, with the nail of his little
finger, dipped in mulberry juice, to write on it a list of his library
—and returned the volume, asking for a second. The second came,
and in it a short letter in Latin. The correspondence between the
prisoners had really begun.
The writer of the Latin letter was the monk Balbi, imprisoned
in the Leads with a companion, Count Andre Asquin. He
followed it by a much longer one, giving the history of his own life,
and all that he knew of his fellow-prisoners. Casanova formed a
very poor opinion of Father Balbi's character from his letters; but
assistance of some kind he must have, since the gaoler must needs
discover any attempt to break through the ceiling, unless that
attempt was made from above. But Casanova soon thought of


CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
23
a plan by which Balbi could break through his ceiling, undis-
covered.
'I wrote to him,' he relates, ' that I would find some means of
sending him an instrument with which he could break through the
roof of his cell, and having climbed upon it, go to the wall
separating his roof from mine. Breaking through that, he would
find himself on my roof, which also must be broken through.
That done, I would leave my cell, and he, the Count, and I
together, would manage to raise one of the great leaden squares
that formed the highest palace roof. Once outside that, I would
be answerable for the rest.
'But first he must tell the gaoler to buy him forty or fifty
pictures of saints, and by way of proving his piety, he must cover
his walls and ceiling with these, putting the largest on the ceiling.
When he had done this, I would tell him more.
1I next ordered Laurent to buy me the new folio Bible that was
just printed; for I fancied its great size might enable me to conceal
my tool there, and so send it to the monk. But when I saw it, I
became gloomy—the bolt was two inches longer than the Bible.
The monk wrote to me that the cell was already covered according
to my direction, and hoped I would lend him the great Bible which
Laurent told him I had bought. But I replied that for three or
four days I needed it myself.
'At last I hit upon a device. I told Laurent that on Michaelmas
Day I wanted two dishes of macaroni, and one of these must be
the largest dish he had, for I meant to season it, and send it, with
my compliments, to the worthy gentleman who had lent me books.
Laurent would bring me the butter and the Parmesan cheese, but I
myself should add them to the boiling macaroni.
'I wrote to the monk preparing him for what was to happen, and
on St. Michael's Bay all came about as I expected. I had hidden
the bolt in the great Bible, wrapped in paper, one inch of it showing
on each side. I prepared the cheese and butter; and in due time
Laurent brought me in the boiling macaroni and the great dish.
Mixing my ingredients, I filled the dish so full that the butter
nearly ran over the edge, and then I placed it carefully on the
Bible, and put that, with the dish resting on it, into Laurent's
hand, warning him not to spill a drop. All his caution was
necessary: he went away with his eyes fixed on his burden, lest
the butter should run over; and the Bible, with the bolt projecting
from it, were covered, and more than covered by the huge dish.


24
CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
His one care was to hold that steady, and I saw that I had
succeeded. Presently he came back to tell me that not a drop of
butter had been spilt.'
Father Balbi next began his work, detaching from the roof one
large picture, which he regularly put back in the same place to
conceal the hole. In eight days he had made his way through the
roof, and attacked the wall. This was harder work, but at last he
had removed six and twenty bricks, and could pass through to
Casanova's roof. This he was obliged to work at very carefully, lest
any fracture should appear visible below.
One Monday, as Father Balbi was busy at the roof, Casanova
suddenly heard the sound of opening doors. It was a terrible
moment, but he had time to give the alarm signal, two quick
blows on the ceiling. Then Laurent entered, bringing another
prisoner, an ugly, ill-dressed little man of fifty, in a black wig, who
looked like what he was, a spy of the Inquisition.
Casanova soon learned the history of Soradici—for this was the
spy's name—and when his new companion was asleep he wrote to
Balbi the account of what had happened. For the present, evi-
dently the work must be given up, no confidence whatever could
be placed in Soradici. Yet soon Casanova thought of a plan of
making use even of this traitor.
First he ordered Laurent to buy him an image of the Virgin
Mary, holy water, and a crucifix. Next he wrote two letters,
addressed to friends internee—letters in which he made no com-
plaint, but spoke of the benevolence of the Inquisition, and the
blessing that his trials had been to him. These letters, which, even
if they reached the hands of the secretary, could do him no possible
harm, he entrusted to Soradici, in case he should soon be set free;
exacting the spy's solemn oath, on the crucifix and the image of the
Virgin, not to betray him, but to give the letters to his friends.
Soradici took the oath required of him, and sewed the letters
into his vest. None the less, Casanova felt confident that he would be
betrayed, and this was exactly what happened. Two days after the
spy was sent for to the Secretary, and when he returned to the cell,
his companion soon discovered that he had given up the letters.
Casanova affected the utmost anguish and despair. He flung
himself down before the image of the Virgin, and demanded ven-
geance on the monster who had ruined him by breaking so solemn
a pledge. Then he lay down with his face to the wall, and for the
whole day uttered no single word to the spy, who, terrified at his


NESCAPE
25
companion's prayer for vengeance, entreated his forgiveness. But
when the spy slept he wrote to Father Balbi and told him to go on
with his work the next day, beginning at exactly three o'clock, and
working four hours.
The next day, after the gaoler had left them, bearing with him
the book of Father Balbi in which the prisoner's letter was con-
cealed, Casanova called his companion. The spy, by this time, was
really ill with terror; for he believed that he had provoked the
wrath of the Virgin Mary by breaking his oath. He was ready to
do anything his companion told him to do, and weak enough to
credit any falsehood.
Casanova put on a look of inspiration, and said:
'Learn that at break of day the Holy Virgin appeared to me, and
commanded me to forgive you. You shall not die. The grief that
your treachery caused me made me pass all the night sleepless,
since I knew that the letters you had given to the secretary would
prove my ruin—and my one consolation was to believe that in three
days I should see you die in this very cell. But though my mind
was full of my revenge—unworthy of a Christian—at break of day
the image of the Blessed Virgin that you see moved, opened her
lips, and said: "Soradici is under my protection: I would have
you pardon him. In reward of your generosity I will send one of
my angels in figure of a man, who shall descend from heaven to
break the roof of the cell, and in five or six days to release you.
To-day this angel will begin his work at three o'clock, and will
work till half an hour before the sun sets, for he must return to me
by daylight. When you escape you will take Soradici with you,
and you will take care of him all his life, on condition that he quits
the profession of a spy for ever." With these words the Blessed
Virgin disappeared." At first even the spy's credulity would hardly be persuaded that
Casanova had not dreamed; but when at the appointed hour the
sound of the angel working in the roof was really to be heard, when
it lasted four hours, and ceased again as foretold, all his doubt van-
ished, and he was ready to follow Casanova blindly. The thought
of once more betraying him never entered his mind; he believed
that the Blessed Virgin herself was on the side of his companion.
The angel would appear, Casanova told him, on the evening of
October 31. And at the hour appointed Father Balbi, not looking
in the least like an angel, came feet foremost through the ceiling.
Casanova embraced him, left him to guard the spy, and himself


26
CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
ascending through the roof, crossed over into the other cell" and
greeted the monk's fellow-prisoner, Count Andre, who had all this
time kept their secret, but, being old and infirm, had no desire to fly
with them.
The next thing was to return into the garret above the two cells,
and set to work to break through the palace roof itself. Most of
this task fell to Casanova, till he reached the great sheet of lead sur-
mounting the planks, and there the monk's help was necessary.
Uniting their strength, they raised it till an opening was made wide
enough to pass through. But outside the moonlight was too strong,
and they would have been seen from below had they ventured on
the roof. They returned into the cell and waited. Casanova had
made strong ropes by tying together sheets, towels, and whatever
else would serve. Now, since there was nothing to be done till the
moon sank, he sat down and wrote a courteous letter to the Inquisi-
tion, explaining his reasons for attempting to escape.
The spy, too cowardly to risk his life in so daring a venture, and
beginning to see that he had been imposed upon, begged Casanova
on his knees to leave him behind, praying for the fugitives—and
this Casanova was thankful to do, for Soradici could only have en-
cumbered him. Father Balbi, though for the last hour he had been
heaping reproaches on his friend's rashness, was less of a coward
than the spy, and as the time had come to start he followed
Casanova. They crept out on the roof, and began cautiously to
ascend it. Half-way up the monk begged his companion to stop,
saying that he had lost one of the packages tied round his neck.
'Was it the package of cord?' asked Casanova.
'No,' replied the monk, 'but a black coat, and a very precious
manuscript.'
'Then,' said Casanova, resisting a sudden temptation to throw
Balbi after his packet, ' you must be patient, and come along.'
The monk sighed, and followed. Soon they had reached the
highest point of the roof, and here Balbi contrived to lose his hat,
which rolled down the roof, failed to lodge in the gutter, and fell
into the canal below. The poor fellow grew desperate, and said it was
a bad omen. Casanova soothed him, and left him seated where he
was, while he himself went to investigate, his faithful tool in his hand.
Now fresh difficulties began. For a long time Casanova could
find no way of re-entering the palace, except into the cell they had
quitted. He was growing hopeless, when he saw a skylight, that
he was sure was too far away from their starting point to belong to


CASANOVA'S ESCAPE
27
any of the cells. He made his way to it; it was barred with a fine
iron grating that needed a file. And Casanova only had one tool!
Sitting on the roof of the skylight, he nearly abandoned himself
to despair, till the bell striking midnight suddenly roused him. It
was the first of November: All Saint's Day—the day on which he
had long had a curious foreboding that he should recover his liberty.
Fired with hope, he set his tool to work at the grating, and in a
quarter of an hour he had wrenched it away entire. He set it
down by the skylight, and went back for the monk. They regained
the skylight together.
Casanova let down his companion through the skylight by the
cord, and found that the floor was so far away that he himself
dared not risk the leap. And though the cord was still in his
hands, he had nowhere to fasten it. The monk, inside, could give
him no help—and, not knowing what to do, he set out on another
voyage of discovery.
It was successful, for in a part of the roof which he had not yet
visited he found a ladder left by some workmen, and long enough
for his purpose. Indeed, it seemed likely to be too long, for when
he tried to introduce it into the skylight, it only entered as far as
the sixth round, and then was stopped by the roof. However, with
a superhuman effort Casanova, hanging to the roof, below the sky-
light, managed to lift the other end of the ladder, nearly, in the
action, flinging himself down into the canal. But he had succeeded
in forcing the ladder farther in, and the rest was comparatively
easy. He climbed up again to the skylight, lowered the ladder,
and in another moment was standing by his companion's side.
They found themselves in a garret opening into another room,
well barred and bolted. But just then Casanova was past all
exertion. He flung himself on the ground, the packet of cord under
his head, and fell into a sleep of utter exhaustion. It was dawn
when he was roused at last by the monk's despairing efforts. For
two hours the latter had been shaking him, and even shouting in
his ears, without the slightest effect!
Casanova rose, saying:
'This place must have a way out. Let us break everything—
there is no time to lose!'
They found, at last, a door, of which Casanova's tool forced the
lock, and which led them into the room containing the archives
or records of the Venetian Republic. From this they descended
a staircase, then another, and so made their way into the


28
NESCAPE
chancellor's office. Here Casanova found a tool which secretaries
used to pierce parchment, and which was some little help to them
—for he found it impossible to force the lock of the door through
which they had next to part, and the only way was to break a hole
in it. Casanova set to work at the part of the door that looked
most likely to yield, while his companion did what he could with
the secretary's instrument—they pushed, rent, tore the wood; the
noise that they made was alarming, but they were compelled to
risk it. In half an hour they had made a hole large enough to get
through. The monk went first, being the thinner; he pulled
Casanova after him—dusty, torn, and bleeding, for he had worked
harder than Father Balbi, who still looked respectable.
They were now in a part of the palace guarded by doors against
which no possible effort of theirs could have availed. The only way
was to wait till they were opened, and then take flight. Casanova
tranquilly changed his tattered garments for a suit which he had
brought with him, arranged his hair, and made himself look—
except for the bandages he had tied round his wounds—much more
like a strayed reveller than an escaped prisoner. All this time the
monk was upbraiding him bitterly, and at last, tired of listening,
Casanova opened a window, and put out his head, adorned with a
gay plumed hat. The window looked out upon the palace court,
and Casanova was seen at once by people walking there. He drew
back his head, thinking that he had brought destruction upon him-
self; but after all the accident proved fortunate. Those who had
seen him went immediately to tell the authority who kept the key
of the hall at the top of the grand staircase, at whose window
Casanova's head had appeared, that he must unwittingly have shut
someone in the night before. Such a thing might easily have
happened, and the keeper of the keys came immediately to see if
the news were true.
Presently the door opened, and quite at his ease, the keeper
appeared, key in hand. He looked startled at Casanova's strange
figure, but the latter, without stopping or uttering a word, passed
him, and descended the stairs, followed by the frightened monk.
They did not run, nor did they loiter; Casanova was already, in
spirit, beyond the confines of the Venetian Republic. Still followed
by the monk, he reached the water-side, stepped into a gondola,
and flinging himself down carelessly, promised the rowers more
than their fare if they would reach Fusina quickly. Soon they
had left Venice behind them; and a few days after his wonderful
escape Casanova was in perfect safety beyond Italy.


29
ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHOBN
The following adventures in crossing the Pindhorn are extracted
from ' Lays of the Deer Forest,' by John Sobieski and Charles
Edward Stuart (London, 1848).
I had lost my boat in the last speat; it was the third which
had been taken away in that year, and, until I obtained another, I
was obliged to ford the river. I went one day as usual; there was
a dark bank of cloud lying in the west upon Beann-Drineachain,
but all the sky above was blue and clear, and the water moderate,
as I crossed into the forest. I merely wanted a buck, and, there-
fore, only made a short circuit to the edge of Dun-Fhearn, and
rolled a stone down the steep into the deep, wooded den. As it
plunged into the burn below, I heard the bound of feet coming up;
but they were only two small does, and I did not 'speak' to them,
but amused myself with watching their uneasiness and surprise as
they perked into the bosky gorge, down which the stone had
crashed like a nine-pounder; and, as their white targets jinked
over the brae, I went on to try the western terraces.
There is a smooth dry brae opposite to Logie Cumming, called
'Braigh Choilich-Choille,'1 great part of the slope of which is
covered with a growth of brackets from five to six feet high, mixed
with large masses of foxgloves, of such luxuriance that the stems
sometimes rise five from a single root, and more than seven feet
in height, of which there is often an extent of five feet of
blossoms, loaded with a succession of magnificent bells. As we
crossed below this beautiful covert, I observed Dreadnought sud-
denly turn up the wind towards it. I immediately made for the
crest beyond where the bank rises smooth and open, and whence
I had a free sweep of the summit and of both sides. I had
just reached the top when the dog entered the thicket of the ferns,
and I saw their tall heads stir about twenty yards before him,
1 The woodcocks' brae, from the frequency with which they breed there.


30
ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN
followed by a roar from his deep tongue, and a fine buck bolted up
the brae. I gave a short whistle to stop him, and immediately he
stood to listen, but behind a great spruce fir, which then, with

many others, formed a noble group upon the summit of the terrace.
The sound of the dog dislodged him in an instant, and he shot out
through the open glade, when I followed him with the rifle, and
sent him over on his horns like a wheel down the steep, and splash,


ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN
SI
like a round shot, into the little rill at its foot. We brittled him
on the knog of an old pine, and rewarded the dog, and drank the
Dochfalla; when, having occasion to send the piper to the other
side of the wood, and being so near home, I shouldered the roe,
and took the way for the ford of Craig-Darach, a strong wide
broken stream with a very bad bottom, but the nearest then pass-
able.
As I descended the Bruach-gharbh, Dreadnought stopped and
looked up into a pine, then approaching the tree, searched it all
round with his nose. I scanned the branches, but could see nothing
except an old hawk's nest, which had been disused long ago; and
if it had not, I do not understand how it should be interesting to a
hound. The dog, however, continued to investigate the stump and
stem of the fir, gaze into the branches, turning his head from side
to side, and setting up his ears like a cocked-hat. I laid down the
back, and unslung my double gun, and throw a stick at the nest,
when out shot a large pine-martin, and, like a squirrel, sprung
along the branches from tree to tree, till I brought him to the
ground. Dreadnought examined him with a sort of wrinkle in his
whiskers, and turned away, and sat down in dignified abstraction;
while I remounted the buck, and braced the martin to his feet with
the little 'ial-chas,' or foot-straps used for trussing the legs of the
roe. We then resumed our path for the ford.
As I descended through the Boat-Shaw, I heard a heavy sound
from the water, but when I came out from the birches upon the green
bank on its brink, I saw that the river had come down, and was just
lipping with the top of the stone, the sight of whose head was the
mark for the last possibility of crossing. As I looked upon its con-
tracting ring, I perceived that the stream was still growing; there
was no time to be lost, for the alternative now was to go round by
the bridge of Daltulich, a circuit of four miles; and I knew that,
before I reached the next good ford, the water would be a continu-
ous rapid, probably six feet deep: I decided, therefore, upon trying
the chance where I was. Dreadnought, who had gone about
thirty yards up the stream to take the deep water in the pool of
Craig-Darach, had observed my hesitation with one leg out and one
in the water, and was standing on the point of the rock waiting the
result. As soon as I made another step he plunged into the river,
and in a few moments was rolling on the bank of silver sand
thrown up by the back-water upon the opposite side of the river.
As I advanced through the stream, he looked at me occasionally,


32 ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN
and I at him, and the beautiful smooth sand and green bank upon
his side—for by that time I began to wish I was there too. I was
then in pretty deep water for a ford, but still some distance from
the deepest part; my kilt was floating round me in the boiling
water, and the strong eddy, formed by the stream running against
my legs, gulped and gushed with increasing weight. I moved
slowly and carefully, for the whole ford was filled with large round
slippery stones from the size of a sixty-pound shot to a two-hundred-
weight shell. I stopped to rest, and looked back to the ford mark:
it was wholly gone, and I saw only the broad smooth wave of water
which slipped over its head. Ten paces more, and I should be
through the deepest part. I stepped steadily and rigidly, but I
wanted the use of my balancing limbs and the freedom of my
breath; for the barrels of the double gun and rifle, which were
slung at my back, were passed under my arms to keep them out of
the water; and I was also obliged to hold the legs of the buck,
which, loaded with the 'wood-cat,' were crossed upon my breast.
At every step the round and slidering stones endangered my footing,
rendered still more unsteady by the upward pressure of the water.
In this struggle the current gave a great gulp, and a wave splashed up over my guns. I staggered downwards with the stream, and
could not recover a sure footing for several yards. At last I secured
my hold against a large fixed stone, and paused to rest. After a
little I made another effort to proceed.
The water was now running above my belt, and at the first step
which I made from the stone I found that it deepened abruptly
before me. I felt that in six inches more that strong stream would
lift me off my legs; and with great difficulty I gained about two
yards up the current to ascertain if the depth was continuous, but
the bottom still shelved before me, and, as I persisted in attempting
it, I was turned round by the stream, the waves were leaping
through the deep channel before me, and having no arms to balance
my steps, I began to think of the bonnie banks on either side the
river. In this jeopardy poor Dreadnought had not been uncon-
cerned; at the first moment of my struggle he had gone down the
great stony beach which lay before me, and, sitting down by the
water, watched me with great anxiety, and at last began to whine,
and whimper, and tremble with agitation. But when he saw me
stagger down the stream, he rose, went in up to his knees, howled,
pawed the water, and lapped the waves with impatience. Mean- while I was obliged to come to a rest, with my left foot planted


ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN
33
strongly against a stone, for the mere resistance to the pressure of
water, which, rushing with a white foam from my side, was suffi-
cient exertion without the weight of the buck and the two guns,
which amounted to more than seventy pounds.
After a few moments' pause I made a last effort to reach the
east bank; but it was now impossible, and I turned to make an
attempt to regain the Tarnaway side. I was at least thirty yards
lower down than when I entered the stream, and the water was
rushing and foaming all round me; another stagger nearly carried
me off my feet, and, in the exertion to keep them, a thick transpi-
ration rose upon my forehead, my ears began to sing, and my head
to swim, while, disordered in their balance, the buck and the guns
almost strangled me. I looked down the channel; the water was
running in a white, broken rapid into the black pool below, and
swept with a wide, foaming back-water under the steep rock which
turned its force. The soft green bank before me was sleeping be-
neath the shade of the weeping birches, where bluebells and prim-
roses grew thick in the short smooth turf, and, though they had
long shed their blossoms, the bright patches of their clusters were
yet visible among the tall foxgloves, which still retained the purple
bells upon their tops. The bank looked softer, and greener, and
more inviting than ever it had done before; but my eyes grew dim
and my limbs faint with that last struggle, I felt for my dirk
knife, for a desperate rolling swim for life seemed now inevitable,
and, steadying myself in the stream, I cut loose the straps of the
buck and the slings of the guns, and retaining them only with my
hands, held them ready to let go as soon as I should be taken off
my legs. When they were free, I dipped my hand in the water,
and laved it over my brow and face. The singing of my ears ceased,
and my sight came clear, and I discovered that I had lost my
bonnet in the struggle, and distinguished the white cockade dancing
like a little ' cailleach' of foam in the vortex of the pool below.
Being now morally relieved from the weight of the roe and
guns—though resolved to preserve them to the last—I resumed my
attempt for the west bank; but when I reached a similar distance
to that which I had gained for the other, I found an equally deep
channel before me, and that the diminished water by which I had
been encouraged was only the shoaling of a long bank which
extended with the stream. I now saw that before I joined my
bonnet, which still danced and circled in the pool below, there was
only one effort left—to struggle up the stream, and reach the point
D


34 ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN
from which I had taken the water. But this was a desperate
attempt; for at every step I had to find a safe footing at the upper
side of some stone, and then with all my strength to force myself
against the current, but often the stones gave way, and, loosening
from their bed, went rolling and rumbling down the rapid, and I
was driven back several feet, to recommence the same struggle.
The river also was still increasing, and the flat sand, which was
dry when I left it, was now a sheet of water. While I was thus
wrestling with the stream, I saw Dreadnought enter, not at his usual place in the pool, but at the tail, just above the run of the
stream in which I was struggling. He came whimpering over, and

crossed about a yard or two above me; but instead of making for
the bank, he turned in the water, and swam towards me. The
stream, however, was too strong for him, and carried him down.
I called and waved to the forest, and he turned and steered for its
bank, but did not reach the shelving sand till he was well tumbled
in the top of the rapid, out of which he only emerged in time to
catch a little back-water, which helped him on to the shore. The
attempt of the dog to reach me had passed while I rested: and
when he gained the bank, I resumed my effort to make the shallower
water.
Dreadnought's eye was turned towards me as he came dripping
up the bank, and seeing me move forward, he ran before me to the
water's edge, at the right entrance of the ford, whining, and


ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN
35
howling, and baying, as if he knew as well as I that it was the
place to make for. In a few steps the stones became less slippery,
and the bottom more even, and I began to think that I might
gain it, when, at the rocky point above, I saw a white mass of
foam, loaded with brushwood, sticks, and rubbish, borne along
by a ridge of yellow curdling water, at least two feet higher than
the stream. I gathered all my strength, and made a struggle
for the bank opposite to where I was. The water was already
above my belt, and rushing between my arms as I bore up the
guns. I felt myself lifted off my legs; again I held the ground.
The green bank was only a few yards distant, but the deep
water was close below, and the yellow foaming flood above.
As I staggered on, I heard it coming down, crumpling up and
crackling the dead boughs which it bore along. I stumbled upon
a round stone, and nearly fell backward, but it was against the
stream which forced me forward. I felt the spray splash over
my head: I was nearly blind and deaf. I made a desperate effort
with the last strength which I had left, and threw myself gasping
on the bank.
Dreadnought sprang forward, jumped over and over me, whined,
and kissed my face and hands, and tried to turn me over with his
snout, and scratched and pawed me to make me speak; but I could
not yet, and gasped, and choked, and felt as if my heart would
burst. I lay, dripping and panting, with my arms stretched out on
the grass, unable to move, except with the convulsive efforts of my
breath. At last I sat up, but I could scarcely see: a thin gauzy
cloud was over my eyes, a heavy pressure rung in my ears, my
feet still hung in the water, which was now sweeping a wide white
torrent from bank to bank, and running with a fierce current
through both the pools below. The back-water, where my bonnet
had danced, no longer remained; all was carried clear out in one
long rush down to the Cluag. 'Benedictum sit nomen Domini!' I
thought, as I crossed myself. I stretched out my hand, and plucked
the nearest flowers, and smelled their sweet greenwood scent with
inexpressible delight. I never thought that flowers looked so beau-
tiful, or had half so much perfume, though they were only the
pale wild blossoms of the fading year. I placed them in my
breast, and have them still, and never look upon them without
repeating—
'PE PEOFUNDIS CLAMAVI AD TE, DOMINE!'
p2








ADVENTURES ON THE FINDHORN 89
him tumbled by the waves both in salt water and fresh. 'Oh yes, I
know you can. But I was thinking of that stream.' 'Ougu-
dearbh!' replied Donald: 'But it was myself that never tried it
yon way!' 'And what do you think of her?' 'Faith, Thig-
hearna, you know best—but if you try it, I shall not stay behind.'
We had often ridden the water together by day and night, in
flood and fair; and, narrow as the pool was, I thought we could
get through it. We threw in a broken branch to prove the
speed of the current, but it leaped through the plunging water
like a greyhound, and was away in a moment down to the
fierce white battling vortex of the Scuddach, where there was no
salvation for thing alive; a few moments it disappeared in the
wild turmoil, and then came up beyond—white and barked, and
shivered like a splintered bone. Donald, however, saw that I was
going to try the venture, and he was already up the bank unlocking
the chain without a word. The bucks were deposited in the stern
of the boat, the guns laid softly across them, covered with a plaid,
and Dreadnought followed slowly and sternly, and laid himself
down with an air as if, like Don Alphonso of Castile, 'the body
trembled at the dangers into which the soul was going to carry it.'
I took the oars—there were no directions to be given—Donald knew
how to cross the pool, and every other where we were used to
ferry.
The boat's head was brought round to the stream, for it was
necessary to run her into it with the impulse of the backwater to
shoot her forward, or she would have been drawn back, stern fore-
most, into the eddy, where the jaw of the water, over the point of
the rock, would have swamped us in an instant. Donald knelt at
the bows, and held fast by a light painter till I cried 'Ready!'
when the little shallop sprung from the rope, tilted away like a sea-
bird, and glided towards the roaring torrent. I looked over my
shoulder; Donald was gripping the bows, his teeth set fast, but the gleam of light was in his eye as we plunged headlong into the burst-
ing stream. A blow like the stroke of a mighty wooden hammer
lifted the boat into the surf; there was a crack as if her bows were
stove in, and she shot shivering through the pool, filled with water
to our knees, and sending the spray over us like a sheet. The
rocks and trees seemed to fly away; the roaring water spouted and
boiled, as it lifted up the boat, which spun round like a leaf, with
her starboard gunwale lipping with the waves; but a few seconds
swept us through the pool, and we were flying into the mad turn-


40 ADVENTURES ON THE EINDHORN
bling thunder of the rapid below. I kept the larboard bow to the
stream, and pulled with all my might; but I thought she did not
move, the eddy of the great mid-stream seemed to fix her in the
ridge of the torrent, and take her along with it; the oars bent like
willows to the strain, a boiling gush from below lifted her bows,
and threw her gunwale under the froth. I thought we were gone,
but I redoubled the last desperate strokes, and we shot out of the
foaming ridge towards the opposite bank, rolling, and leaping, and
plunging into the throat of the rapid. Donald sat like a tiger ready
for the spring, and as we neared the shore, bounded on the grass
with the chain. This checked the speed of the boat; I unshipped
the oars, and sprung out just as the cable came crash alongside the
bank, then swirling round, her head flew out to the stream, dragging
Donald along the grass after her. I jumped into the water, and
caught hold of the bow; for two minutes the struggle was doubtful
and she continued to drag us along: at last Donald reached the
stump of a tree, and, running round it, made a turn of the chain
and brought her up.
We sat down, and wiped our faces, and looked at each other in
silence. The incredibly short space of time which had elapsed
since we stood on the 'other side,' with the mysterious future
before us, and now to be sitting on ' this,' and call it the past, was
like a dream. The tumult, the flying shoot, the concussion at
parting and arriving, seemed like an explosion, as if we had been
blown up and thrown over. 'I don't think that boat will ever go
back again, Thighearna,' said Donald. 'Why not?' 'Did you
not feel her twist, and hear her split, when we came into the burst
of the stream?' replied Donald. 'I don't know,' said I; 'I felt
and heard a great many things, but there was no time to think
what they were.' 'Oh, it was not thinking that I was,' answered
Donald; 'but the water came squirting up in my face through her
ribs, and I held on by both bows, expecting at every stroke to see
them open and let me through.' We got up and examined the
boat's bottom; there was a yawning rent from the stem to the
centre, and part of the torn planks lapped one over the other by the
twist, the bows being only held together by the iron band which
bound the gunwale.


41
THE STORY OF GRACE DARLING
ACAREFUL reader of the ' Times ' on the morning of Tuesday,
September 11, 1838, might have found, if he cared to look, a
certain paragraph in an obscure corner headed ' The Wreck of the
"Forfarshire."' It is printed in the small type of that period; the
story is four days old, for in those days news was not flashed from
one end of the country to the other; and, moreover, the story is very
incomplete.
On the evening of Wednesday, September 5, the steamship
'Forfarshire' left Hull for Dundee, carrying a cargo of iron, and
having some forty passengers on board. The ship was only eight
years old; the master, John Humble, was an experienced seaman;
and the crew, including firemen and engineers, was complete. But
even before the vessel left the dock one passenger at least had felt
uneasily that something was wrong—that there was an unusual
commotion among officials and sailors. Still, no alarm was given,
and at dusk the vessel steamed prosperously down the Humber.
The next day (Thursday, the Cth) the weather changed, the
wind blowing N.N.W., and increasing towards midnight to a
perfect gale. On the morning of Friday, the 7th, a sloop from
Montrose, making for South Shields, saw a small boat labouring
hard in the trough of the sea. The Montrose vessel bore down on
it, and in spite of the state of the weather managed to get the boat's
crew on board.
They were nine men in all, the sole survivors, as they believed
themselves to be, of the crew and passengers of the ' Forfarshire,'
which was then lying a total wreck on Longstone, one of the
outermost of the Farne Islands.
It was a wretched story they had to tell of lives thrown away
through carelessness and negligence, unredeemed, as far as their
story went, by any heroism or unselfish courage.


42
THE STORY OF GRACE DARLING
While still in the Humber, and not twenty miles from Hull, it
was found that one of the boilers leaked, but the captain refused to
put about. The pumps were set to work to fill the boiler, and the
vessel kept on her way, though slowly, not passing between the
Fame Islands and the mainland till Thursday evening. It was
eight o'clock when they entered Berwick Bay; the wind freshened
and was soon blowing hard from the N.N.W. The motion of the
vessel increased the leakage, and it was now found that there were
holes in all the three boilers. Two men were set to work the
pumps, one or two of the passengers also assisting, but as fast as the
water was pumped into the boilers it poured out again. The bilge
was so full of steam and boiling water that the firemen could not
get to the fires. Still the steamer struggled on, labouring heavily,
for the sea was running very high. At midnight they were off St.
Abbs Head, when the engineers reported that the case was hope-
less; the engines had entirely ceased to work. The ship rolled
helplessly in the waves, and the rocky coast was at no great
distance. They ran up the sails fore and aft to try and keep her off
the rocks, and put her round so that she might run before the
wind, and as the tide was setting southward she drifted fast with
wind and tide. Torrents of rain were falling, and in spite of the
wind there was a thick fog. Some of the passengers were below,
others were on deck with crew and captain, knowing well their
danger.
About three the noise of breakers was distinctly heard a little
way ahead, and at the same time a light was seen away to the left,
glimmering faintly through the darkness. It came home to the
anxious crew with sickening certainty that they were being driven
on the Fame Islands. [Now these islands form a group of desolate
whinstone rocks lying off the Northumbrian coast. They are
twenty in number, some only uncovered at low tide, and all offering
a rugged iron wall to any ill-fated boat that may be driven upon
them. Even in calm weather and by daylight seamen are glad
to give them a wide berth.]
The master of the 'Forfarshire' in this desperate strait attempted
to make for the channel which runs between the Islands and the
mainland. It was at best a forlorn chance; it was hopeless here;
the vessel refused to answer her helm! On she drove in the dark-
ness, nearer and nearer came the sound of the breakers; the fear
and agitation on board the boat grew frantic. Women wailed and
shrieked; the captain's wife clung to him, weeping; the crew


THE STORY OF GRACE DARLING 43
lost all instinct of discipline, and thought of nothing but saving
their skins.
Between three and four the shock came—a hideous grinding
noise, a strain and shiver of the whole ship, and she struck violently
against a great rock. In the awful moment which followed five of
the crew succeeded in lowering the larboard quarter-boat and pushed
off in her. The mate swung himself over the side, and also reached
her; and a passenger rushing at this moment up from the cabin
and seeing the boat already three yards from the ship, cleared the
space with a bound and landed safely in her, though nearly
upsetting her by his weight. She righted, and the crew pulled
off with the desperate energy of men rowing for their lives. The
sight of agonised faces, the shrieks of the drowning were lost
in the darkness and in the howling winds, and the boat with
the seven men on board was swept along by the rapidly-flowing
tide.
Such was the story the exhausted boat's-crew told next morning
to their rescuers on board the Montrose sloop. And the rest of the
ship's company—what of them'? Had they all gone down by the
island crag with never a hand stretched out to help them?
Hardly had the boat escaped from the stranded vessel when a
great wave struck her on the quarter, lifted her up bodily, and
dashed her back on the rock. She struck amidships on the sharp
edge and broke at once into two pieces. The after part was washed
clean away with about twenty passengers clinging to it, the captain
and his wife being among them. A group of people, about nine in
number, were huddled together near the bow ; they, with the whole
fore part of the ship, were lifted right on to the rock. In the fore
cabin was a poor woman, Mrs. Dawson, with a child on each arm.
When the vessel was stranded on the rock the waves rushed into
the exposed cabin, but she managed to keep her position, cowering
in a corner. First one and then the other child died from cold and
exhaustion, and falling from the fainting mother were swept from
her sight by the waves, but the poor soul herself survived all the
horrors of the night.
It was now four o'clock; the storm was raging with unabated
violence, and it was still two hours to daybreak. About a mile from
Longstone, the island on which the vessel struck, lies Brownsman,
the outermost of the Fame Islands, on which stands the lighthouse.
At this time the keeper of the lighthouse was a man of the name of
William Darling. He was an elderly, almost an old man, and the


44 THE STORY .OF GRACE DARLING
only other inmates of the lighthouse were his wife and daughter
Grace, a girl of twenty-two. On this Friday night she was awake,
and through the raging of the storm heard shrieks more persistent
and despairing than those of the wildest sea-birds. In great trouble
she rose and awakened her father. The cries continued, but in the
darkness they could do nothing. Even after day broke it was
difficult to make out distant objects, for a mist was still hanging
over the sea. At length, with a glass they could discern the wreck
on Longstone, and figures moving about on it. Between the two
islands lay a mile of yeasty sea, and the tide was running hard
between them. The only boat on the lighthouse was a clumsily
built jolly-boat, heavy enough to tax the strength of two strong
men in ordinary weather, and here there was but an old man and
a young girl to face a raging sea and a tide running dead against
them. Darling hesitated to undertake anything so dangerous, but
his daughter would hear of no delay. On the other side of that
rough mile of sea men were perishing, and she could not stay where
she was and see them die.
So off they set in the heavy cable, the old man with one oar, the
girl with the other, rowing with straining breath and beating hearts.
Any moment they might be whelmed in the sea or dashed against
the rocks. Even if they got the crew off it would be doubtful if they
could row them to the lighthouse; the tide was about to turn, and
would be against them on their homeward journey; death seemed
to face them on every side.
When close to the rock there was imminent danger of their
being dashed to pieces against it. Steadying the boat an instant,
Darling managed to jump on to the rock, while Grace rapidly rowed
out a little and kept the boat from going on the rocks by rowing
continually. It is difficult to imagine how the nine shipwrecked
people, exhausted and wearied as they were, were got into the boat
in such a sea, especially as the poor woman, Mrs. Dawson, was in an
almost fainting condition; but finally got on board they all were.
Fortunately, one or two of the rescued crew were able to assist in
the heavy task of rowing the boat back to Brownsman.
The storm continued to rage for several days after, and the
whole party had to remain in the lighthouse. Moreover, a boat-
load which had come to their rescue from North Shields was also
storm-stayed, twenty guests in all, so that the housewifely powers
of Grace and her mother were taxed to the utmost.
It is told of this admirable girl that she was the tenderest and





THE NEW YO^
PUBLIC 1 RARY
ASTOR, LENT'X AN"
TILD-.'N TOR 1- , r-
h


THE STORYOF OBAOE DABLING
47
gentlest of nurses and hostesses, as she was certainly one of the
most singularly courageous of women.
She could never be brought to look upon her exploit as in any
way remarkable, and when by-and-by honours and distinctions
were showered upon her, and people came from long distances to
see her, she kept through it all the dignity of perfect simplicity and
modesty.
Close to Bamborough, on a windy hill, lie a little grey church
and a quiet churchyard. At all seasons high winds from the North
Sea blow over the graves and fret and eat away the soft grey sand-
stone of which the plain headstones are made. So great is the wear
and tear of these winds that comparatively recent monuments look
like those which have stood for centuries. On one of these stones
lies a recumbent figure, with what looks not unlike a lance clasped
in the hand and laid across the breast. Involuntarily one thinks of
the stone Crusaders, who lie in their armour, clasping their half-
drawn swords, awaiting the Resurrection morning. It is the monu-
ment of Grace Darling, who here lies at rest with her oar still clasped
in her strong right hand.


48
THE 'SHANNON' AND THE 'CHESAPEAKE'
MONG the captains of British 38-gun frigates who ardently
longed for a meeting with one of the American 44-guns, in our
war with the United States, was Captain Philip Bowesbere Broke,
of the ' Shannon.' The desire sprang from no wish to display his
own valour, only to show the world what wonderful deeds could be
done when the ship and crew were in all respects fitted for battle.
He had put his frigate in fighting order, taught his men the art of
attack and defence, and out of a crew not very well disposed and
got together in a rather haphazard manner, had made a company
as pleasant to command as it was dangerous to meet.
With this desire, in March 1813 Captain Broke sailed from
Halifax on a cruise in Boston Bay. But to his disappointment
two American frigates, the weather being foggy, left the harbour
without his having a chance to encounter them. Two remained,
however, and one of these, the ' Chesapeake,' commanded by Cap-
tain James Lawrence, was nearly ready for sea. When her pre-
parations were complete, Captain Broke addressed to her com-
manding officer a letter of challenge, having previously sent a
verbal message, which had met with no reply.
'As the "Chesapeake" appears now ready for sea,' began this
letter, ' I request you will do me the favour to meet the " Shannon"
with her, ship to ship, to try the fortune of our respective flags.'
He then gave an account of the ' Shannon's' forces, which were
somewhat inferior to the ' Chesapeake's.' The 'Chesapeake' had
370 men, the ' Shannon' 306 men and 24 boys, and the American
vessel also had the advantage in guns.
'I entreat you, sir,' Captain Broke concluded, 'not to imagine
that I am urged by mere personal vanity to the wish of meeting
the "Chesapeake," or that I depend only upon your personal
ambition for your acceding to this invitation. We have both nobler


THE 'SHANNON' AND THE 'CHESAPEAKE' 49
motives. . . . Favour me with a speedy reply. We are short of
provisions and water, and cannot stay long here.'
This letter he entrusted to Captain Slocum, a discharged
prisoner; but it so happened that before his boat reached the shore,
the American frigate left it—Captain Lawrence having received
permission from Commodore Bairbridge to sail and attack the
'Shannon' in response to Captain Broke's verbal challenge.
Some manoeuvring between the two ships took place; but at
last, in the evening of June 1, 1813, the 'Chesapeake,' with three
ensigns flying, steered straight for the 'Shannon's' starboard
quarter. Besides the ensigns, she had flying at the fore a large
white flag, inscribed with the words: 'Sailors' Rights and Free
Trade,' with the idea, perhaps, that this favourite American motto
would damp the energy of the ' Shannon's ' men. The 'Shannon'
had a Union Jack at the fore, an old rusty blue ensign at the mizzen
peak, and two other flags rolled up, ready to be spread if either of
these should be shot away. She stood much in need of paint, and
her outward appearance hardly inspired much belief in the order
and discipline that reigned within.
At twenty minutes to six Captain Lawrence came within fifty
yards of the ' Shannon's ' starboard quarter, and gave three cheers.
Ten minutes after the ' Shannon ' fired her first gun, then a second.
Then the ' Chesapeake ' returned fire, and the remaining guns on
the broadside of each ship went off as fast as they could be dis-
charged.
Four minutes before six the 'Chesapeake's' helm, probably
from the death of the men stationed at it, being for the moment
unattended to, the ship lay with her stem and quarter exposed to her
opponent's broadside, which did terrible execution. At six o'clock,
the 'Chesapeake' and 'Shannon' being in close contact, the
1 Chesapeake,' endeavouring to make a little ahead, was stopped by
becoming entangled with the anchor of the 'Shannon.' Captain
Broke now ran forward, and, seeing the 'Chesapeake's' men de-
serting the quarter-deck guns, he ordered the two ships to be lashed
together, the great guns to cease firing, and Lieutenant Watt to
bring up the quarter-deck men, who were to act as boarders. This
was done instantly, and at two minutes past six Captain Broke
leaped aboard the 'Chesapeake,' followed by twenty men, and
reached her quarter-deck.
Here not an officer or man was to be seen. Upon the 'Chesa-
peake's' gangways, twenty-five or thirty Americans made a slight


60 THE 'SHANNON' AND THE 'CHESAPEAKE'
resistance, but were quickly driven towards the forecastle. Several
fled over the bows, some, it is believed, plunged into the sea, the
rest laid down their arms and submitted.
Lieutenant Watt, with others, followed quickly. Hardly had he
stepped upon the taffrail of the 'Chesapeake ' when he was shot
through the foot by a musket ball; but, rising in spite of it, he
ordered one of the ' Shannon's ' 9-pounders to be directed at the
'Chesapeake's ' mizzen top, whence the shot had come. The second
division of the Marines now rushed forward, and while one party
kept down the Americans who were ascending the main hatchway,
another party answered a destructive fire which still continued from
the main and mizzen tops. The ' Chesapeake's' main top was pre-
sently stormed by midshipman William Smith. This gallant young
man deliberately passed along the 'Shannon's' foreyard, which
was braced up to the ' Chesapeake's ' mainyard, and thence into her
top. All further annoyance from the ' Chesapeake's ' mizzen top
was put a stop to by another of the ' Shannon's ' midshipmen, who
fired at the Americans from the yardarm as fast as his men could
load the muskets and hand them to him.
After the Americans upon the forecastle had submitted, Captain
Broke ordered one of his men to stand sentry over them, and sent
most of the others aft, where the conflict was still going on. He
was in the act of giving them orders when the sentry called out
lustily to him. On turning, the captain found himself opposed by
three of the Americans, who, seeing they were superior to the
British then near them, had armed themselves afresh. Captain
Broke parried the middle fellows pike, and wounded him in the
face, but instantly received from the man on the pikeman's right a
blow with the butt-end of a musket, which bared his skull and
nearly stunned him. Determined to finish the British commander,
the third man cut him down with his broadsword, but at that very
instant was himself cut down by Mindham, one of the ' Shannon's'
seamen. Can it be wondered if all concerned in this breach of
faith fell victims to the indignation of the 'Shannon's' men? It
was as much as Captain Broke could do to save from their fury a
young midshipman, who, having slid down a rope from the ' Chesa-
peake's ' foretop, begged his protection.
While in the act of tying a handkerchief round his commander's
head, Mindham, pointing aft, called out:
'There, sir—there goes up the old ensign over the Yankee
colours 1'


the'SHANNON' AND THE 'CHESAPEAKE' 51
Captain Broke saw it hoisting (with what feelings may be
imagined), and was instantly led to the 'Chesapeake's' quarter-
deck, where he sat down.
That act of changing the 'Chesapeake's' colours proved fatal
to a gallant British officer and four or five fine fellows of the
'Shannon's' crew. We left Lieutenant Watt just as, having raised
himself on his feet after his wound, he was hailing the 'Shannon'
to fire at the 'Chesapeake's ' mizzen tap. He then called for an
English ensign, and hauling down the American flag, bent, owing
to the ropes being tangled, the English flag below instead of above
it. Observing the American stripes going up first, the ' Shannon's
people reopened their fire, and, directing their guns with their accus-
tomed precision at the lower part of the ' Chesapeake's ' mizzen mast,
killed Lieutenant Watt and four or five of their comrades. Before
the flags had got halfway to the mizzen peak, they were pulled
down and hoisted properly, and the men of the ' Shannon' ceased
their fire.
An unexpected fire of musketry, opened by the Americans who
had fled to the hold, killed a fine young marine, William Young.
On this, Lieutenant Falkiner ordered three or four muskets that
were ready to be fired down the hold, and Captain Broke, from the
quarter-deck, told the lieutenant to summon. The Americans replied,
'We surrender'; and all hostilities ceased. Almost immediately
after Captain Broke's senses failed him from loss of blood, and he
was conveyed on board his own ship.
Between the discharge of the first gun and the time of Captain
Broke's boarding only eleven minutes had passed, and in four
minutes more the 'Chesapeake' was completely his. As a rule,
however, this good fortune did not attend our arms in the conflict
with the American marine.


0-2
CAPTAIN SNELGBAVE AND THE PIRATESIN the year 1719, I, being appointed commander of the 'Bird'
galley, arrived at the River Sierra Leone, on the north coast of
Guinea. There were, at the time of our unfortunate arrival in that
river, three pirate ships, who had then taken ten English ships in
that place. The first of these was the ' Rising Sun,' one Cochlyn
commander, who had not with him above twenty-five men; the
second was a brigantine commanded by one Le Bouse, a French-
man, whose crew had formerly served with Cochlyn's under the
pirate Moody; the third was a large ship commanded by Captain
Davis, with a crew of near one hundred and fifty men. This Davis
was a generous man, nor had he agreed to join with the others
when I was taken by Cochlyn; which proved a great misfortune to
me, for I found Cochlyn and his crew to be a set of the basest and
most cruel villains that ever were.
I come now to give an account of how I was taken by them. It
Mont calm about seven o'clock, and growing dark, we anchored
in the river's mouth, soon after which I went to supper with the
officers that usually ate with me. About eight o'clock the officer of
the watch upon deck sent me word,' He heard the rowing of a boat.'
Whereupon we all immediately went on deck, and the night being
very dark, I ordered lanterns and candles to be got ready, suppos-
ing the boat might come from the shore with some white gentlemen
that lived there as free merchants. I ordered also, by way of pre-
caution, the first mate, Mr. Jones, to go into the steerage to put
things in order, and to send me twenty men on the quarter-deck
with firearms and cutlasses, which I thought he went about, for
I did not in the least suspect Mr. Jones would have proved such a
villain as he did afterwards.
As it was dark, I could not yet see the boat, but heard the noise


CAPTAIN SNELGBAVE AND THE PIRATES 53
of the rowing very plain. Whereupon I ordered the second mate
to hail the boat, to which the people in it answered, ' They belonged
to the " Two Friends," Captain Elliot, of Barbadces.' At this, one
of the officers who stood by me said he knew that captain very well.
I replied, 'It might be so, but I would not trust any boat in such a
place,' and ordered him to hasten the first mate, with the people
and arms, on deck. By this time our lanterns and candles were
brought up, and I ordered the boat to be hailed again; to which the
people in it answered, 1 They were from America,' and at the same
time fired a volley of small shot at us, which showed the boldness
of these villains. For there were in the boat only twelve of them,
as I understood afterwards, who knew nothing of the strength of
our ship, which was indeed considerable, we having sixteen guns
and forty-five men on board. But, as they told me after we were
taken, 'they depended on the same good-fortune as in the other
ships they had taken, having met with no resistance, for the
people were generally glad of an opportunity of entering with
them.'
Which last was but too true.
When they first began to fire, I called aloud to the first mate
to fire at the boat out of the steerage portholes, which not being
done, and the people I had ordered upon deck with small arms not
appearing, I was extremely surprised, and the more when an
officer came and told me ' The people would not take arms.'
I went down into the steerage, where I saw a great many of
them looking at one another, little thinking that my first mate had
prevented them from taking arms. I asked them with some rough-
ness why they had not obeyed my orders, saying it would be the
greatest reproach in the world to us all to be taken by a boat.
Some of them answered that they would have taken arms, but
the chest they were kept in could not be found.
By this time the boat was along the ship's side, and there being
nobody to oppose them, the pirates immediately boarded us, and
coming on the quarter-deck, fired their pieces several times down
into the steerage, giving one sailor a wound of which he died
afterwards.
At last some of our people bethought themselves to call out
for quarter, which the pirates granting, their quartermaster came
down into the steerage, asking where the Captain was. I told him I
had been so till now. On that he asked me how I durst order
my people to fire at their boat out of the steerage.


M CAPTAIN SNELGItAVE AND THE PIRATES
I answered, 'I thought it my duty to defend my ship if my
people would have fought.'
On that he presented a pistol to my breast, which I had but
just time to parry before it went off, so that the bullet passed
between my side and arm. The rogue, finding he had not shot me,
turned the butt-end of the pistol, and gave me such a blow on the
head as stunned me, so that I fell on my knees, but immediately
recovering myself, I jumped out of the steerage upon the quarter-
deck, where the pirate boatswain was.
He was a bloodthirsty villain, having a few days before killed a
poor sailor because he did not do something as soon as he ordered
him. This cruel monster was asking some of my people where
their captain was, so at my coming upon deck one of them pointed
me out. Though the night was very dark, yet, there being four
lanterns with candles, he, had a full sight of me; whereupon,
lifting up his broadsword, he swore that no quarter should be given
to any captain that defended his ship, at the same time aiming a
full stroke at my head. To avoid it I stooped so low that the
quarter-deck rail received the blow, and was cut in at least an inch
deep, which happily saved my head from being cleft asunder,
and the sword breaking at the same time with the force of his
blow on the rail, it prevented his cutting me to pieces.
By good fortune his pistols, that hung at his girdle, were all
discharged, otherwise he would doubtless have shot me. But he
took one of them and endeavoured to beat out my brains, which
some of my people observing, cried:
'For God's sake don't kill our captain, for we never were with a
better man.'
This turned the rage of him and two other pirates on my
people, and saved my life; but they cruelly used my poor men,
cutting and beating them unmercifully. One of them had his chin
almost cut off, and another received such a wound on the head
that he fell on the deck as dead, but afterwards, by the care of our
surgeon, he recovered.
Then the quartermaster, coming on deck, took me by the hand,
and told me my life was safe, provided none of my people com-
plained of me. I answered that I was sure none of them could.
By this time the pirate ship had drawn near, for they had sent
their boat before to discover us; and on approaching, without
asking any questions, gave us a great broadside, believing, as it
proved afterwards, that we had taken their boat and people. So


CAPTAIN SNELGBAVE AND THE PIRATES55
the quartermaster told them, through the speaking-trumpet^ that
they had taken a brave prize, with all manner of good victuals and
fresh provisions on board.
Just after this, claim, the pirate captain, ordered them to
dress a quantity of these victuals; so they took many geese, turkeys,
fowls, and ducks, making out people cut their heads off and pull
the great feathers out of their wings, but they would not stay till
the other feathers were pulled off. All these they put into our
great furnace, which would boil victuals for five hundred negroes,
together with several Westphalia hams and a large pig. This
strange medley filled the furnace, and the cook was ordered to boil
them out of hand.
As soon as the pirate ship had done firing, I asked the quarter-
master's leave for our surgeon to dress my poor people that had
been wounded, and I likewise went to have my arm dressed, it
being very much bruised by the blow given me by the pirate boat-
swain. Just after that a person came to me from the quarter-
master, desiring to know what o'clock it was by my watch; which,
judging to be a civil way of demanding it, I sent it him immediately,
desiring the messenger to tell him it was a very good gold watch.
When it was delivered to the quartermaster he held it up by the
chain, and presently laid it down on the deck, giving it a kick with
his foot, saying it was a pretty football. On which one of the
pirates caught it up, saying he would put it in the common chest to
be sold at the mast.
By this time I was loudly called upon to go on board the pirate
ship, and there was taken to the commander, who asked me several
questions about my ship, saying she would make a fine pirate
man-of-war.
As soon as I had done answering the captain's questions, a tall
man, with four pistols in his girdle and a broadsword in his hand,
came to me on the quarter-deck, telling me his name was James
Griffin, and we had been schoolfellows. Though I remembered
him very well, yet having formerly heard it had proved fatal to
some who had been taken by pirates to own any knowledge of
them, I told him I could not remember any such person by name.
On that he mentioned some boyish pranks that had formerly passed
between us. But I, still denying any knowledge of him, he told me
that he supposed I took him to be one of the pirate's crew because I
saw him dressed in that manner, but that he was a forced man,
and since he had been taken, though they spared his life, they had


56 CAPTAIN SNELGRAVE AND THE PIRATES
obliged him to act as master of the pirate ship. And the reason of
his being so armed was to prevent their ill-using him, for there were
hardly any among the crew but what were cruel villains. But he
would himself take care of me that night, when I should be in the
greatest danger, because many of their people would soon get drunk
with the good liquors found in my ship.
I then readily owned my former acquaintance with him, and he
turned to Captain Cochlyn and desired that a bowl of punch might
be made. So we went into the cabin, where there was not chair,
nor anything else to sit upon, for they always kept a clear ship,
ready for an engagement. So a carpet was spread on the deck, on
which we sat down cross-legged, and Captain Cochlyn drank my
health, desiring that I would not be cast down at my misfortune,
for my ship's company in general spoke well of me, and they had
goods enough left in the ships they had taken to make a man of me.
Then he drank several other healths, among which was that of the
Pretender, by the name of King James the Third.
It being by this time midnight, my schoolfellow desired the
captain to have a hammock hung up for me to sleep in, for it
seemed everyone lay rough, as they call it, that is, on the deck,
the captain himself not being allowed a bed. This being granted,
and soon after done, I took leave of the captain, and got into my
hammock, but I could not sleep in my melancholy circumstances.
Moreover, the execrable curses I heard among the ship's company
kept me awake, though Mr. Griffin, according to his promise,
walked by me with his broadsword in his hand, to protect me from
insults.
Some time after, it being about two o'clock in the morning, the
pirate boatswain (that attempted to kill me when taken) came on
board very drunk, and being told I was in a hammock, he came
near me with his cutlass. My generous schoolfellow asked him
what he wanted; he answered, 'To kill me, for I was a vile dog.'
Then Griffin bade the boatswain keep his distance, or he would
cleave his head asunder with his broadsword. Nevertheless, the
bloodthirsty villain came on to kill me; but Mr. Griffin struck at
him with his sword, from which he had a narrow escape ; and then
he ran away. So I lay unmolested till daylight.
I come now to relate how Mr. Simon Jones, my first mate, and
ten of my men entered with the pirates. The morning after we
were taken he came to me and told me that his circumstances were
bad at home; moreover, he had a wife whom he could not love;


CAPTAIN SNELGRAVE AND THE PIRATES 57
and for these reasons he had entered with the pirates, and signed
their articles. I was greatly surprised at this declaration, and told
him I believed he would repent when too late. And, indeed, I saw

the poor man afterwards despised by his brethren in iniquity, and
have been told he died a few months after they left Sierra Leone.
However, I must do him the justice to own he never showed any


58 CAPTAIN SNELGBAVE AND THE PIRATES
disrespect to me, and the ten people he persuaded to enter with him
remained very civil to me. But I learned afterwards from one of
them that, before we came to Sierra Leone, Jones had said that he
hoped we should meet with pirates, and that it was by his contriv-
ance that the chest of anus was hid out of the way when we were
taken. And when I called on the people in the steerage to fire
on the pirate boat, Jones prevented them, declaring that this was
an opportunity he had long wished for, and that if they fired a
musket they would all be cut to pieces. Moreover, to induce them
to enter with the pirates, he had assured them that I had promised
to enter myself. So it was a wonder I escaped so well, having such
a base wretch for my first officer.
As soon as the fumes of the liquor were out of the pirates' heads
they went on board the prize, as they called my ship, and all hands
went to work to clear it, by throwing over bales of woollen goods,
With many other things of great value, so that before night they
had destroyed between three and four thousand pounds worth of the
cargo—money and necessaries being what they wanted. The sight
of this much grieved me, but I was obliged in prudence to be silent.
That afternoon there came on board to see me Captain Henry
Glynn, with whom I was acquainted, who resided at Sierra Leone,
but though an honest, generous person, was on good terms with
the pirates. He brought with him the captains of the two other
pirate ships, and Captain Davis generously said he was ashamed
to hear how I had been used, for their reasons for going a-pirat-
ing were to revenge themselves on base merchants and cruel com-
manders, but none of my people gave me the least ill character;
and, indeed, it was plain that they loved me.
This was by no means relished by Cochlyn; however, he put a
good face on it.
That night the boatswain came down into the steerage, where
he had seen me sitting with the ship's carpenter, but since we hap-
pened to have changed places, and it had grown so dark he could
not distinguish our faces, he, thinking I sat where he had seen me
before, presented a pistol and drew the trigger, swearing he would
blow my brains out. By good fortune the pistol did not go off, but
only flashed in the pan; by the light of which the carpenter,
observing that he should have been shot instead of me, it so pro-
voked him that he ran in the dark to the boatswain, and having
wrenched the pistol out of his hand, he beat him to such a degree
that he almost killed him. The noise of the fray being heard on
board the pirate ship that lay close to us, a boat was sent from her,


CAPTAIN SNELGBAVE AND THE PIRATES 59
and they being told the truth of the matter, the officer in her carried
away this wicked villain, who had three times tried to murder me.
I had one bundle of my own things left to me, in which was a
black suit of clothes. But a pirate, who was tolerably sober, came
in and said he would see what was in it. He then took out my
black suit, a good hat and wig, and some other things. Whereon I
told him I hoped he would not deprive me of them, for they would
be of no service to him in so hot a country, but would be of great
use to me, as I hoped soon to return to England.
I had hardly done speaking, when he lifted up his broadsword
and gave me a blow on the shoulder with the flat side of it,
whispering in my ear at the same time:
'I give you this caution, never to dispute the will of a pirate;
for, supposing I had cleft your skull asunder for your impudence,
what would you have got by it but destruction?'
I gave him thanks for his warning, and soon after he put on the
clothes, which in less than half an hour after I saw him take off
and throw overboard, for some of the pirates, seeing him dressed
in that manner, had thrown several buckets of claret upon him.
This person's true name was Francis Kennedy.
The next day, understanding that the three pirate captains were
on shore at my friend Captain Glynn's, I asked leave to go to them)
which was granted, and next day I went on board in company with
them. Captain Davis desired Cochlyn to order all his people on
the quarter-deck, and made a speech to them on my behalf, which they
falling in with, it was resolved to give me the ship they designed to
leave to go into mine, with the remains of my cargo, and further,
the goods remaining in the other prizes, worth, with my own,
several thousand pounds. Then one of the leading pirates proposed
that I should go along with them down the coast of Guinea, where
I might exchange the goods for gold, and that, no doubt, as they
went they should take some French and Portuguese vessels, and
then they might give me as many of their best slaves as would fill
the ship; that then he would advise me to go to the island of
St. Thomas and sell them there, and after rewarding my people in
a handsome manner, I might return with the large sum of money to
London and bid the merchants defiance.
This proposal was approved of, but it struck me with a sudden
damp. So I began to say it would not be proper for me to accept
of such a quantity of other people's goods as they had so gene-
rously voted for me. On which I was interrupted by several, who
began to be very angry.


60 CAPTAIN 8NELGRAVE AND THE PIRATES
On this Captain Davis said: 'I know this man, and can easily
guess his thoughts; for he thinks, if he should act in the manner
you have proposed, he will ever after lose his reputation. Now I
am for allowing everybody to go to the devil their own way, so
desire you will give him the remains of his own cargo and let him
do with it what he thinks fitting.'
This was readily granted; and now, the tide being turned, they
were as kind to me as they had at first been severe, and we
employed ourselves in saving what goods we could.
And through the influence of Captain Davis, one of the ships
the pirates had taken, called the ' Bristol Snow,' was spared from
burning—for they burned such prizes as they had no use for. And
I was set entirely at liberty, and went to the house of Captain
Glynn, who, when the pirates left the river of Sierra Leone,
together with other English captains who had been hiding from the
pirates in the woods, their ships having been taken, helped me to
fit up the ' Bristol Snow' that we might return to England in it.
And we left the river Sierra Leone the 10th day of May, and came
safe to Bristol, where I found a letter from the owner of the ship
I had gone out with, who had heard of my misfortune, and most
generously comforted me, giving money for my poor sailors and
promising me command of another ship—a promise which he soon
after performed.
I shall now inform the reader what became of my kind school-
fellow, Griffin, and my generous friend Davis. The first got out of
the hands of the pirates by taking away a boat from the stern of
the ship he was in when on the coast of Guinea, and was driven on
shore there. But afterwards he went passenger to Barbadoes in an
English ship, where he was taken with a violent fever, and so died.
As for Davis, he sailed to the island Princess, belonging to the
Portuguese, which is in the Bay of Guinea. Here the people soon
discovered they were pirates by their lavishness ; but the Governor
winked at it, because of the great gain he made by them. But
afterwards, someone putting it into his mind that if the King of
Portugal heard of this it would be his ruin, he plotted to destroy
Davis. And when, before sailing, Captain Davis came on shore with
the surgeon and some others to bid farewell to the Governor, they
found no Governor, but many people with weapons were gathered
together in the street, who at a word from the Governor's steward
fired at Davis and his men. The surgeon and two others were killed
on the spot, but Davis, though struck by four shots, went on running



'SOME OF THE PIRATES . . . HAD THROWN SEVERAL buckets OE claret UPON HIM.'


11


CAPTAIN'SAND THE PIRATES 03
towards the boat. But being closely pursued, a fifth shot made him
fall; and the Portuguese, being amazed at his great strength and

courage, t his threat that they might be sure of him. Thus fell
Captain Davis, who, allowing for the course of life he had been
unhappily engaged in, was a most generous, humane person,


64
THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED
this is the story of the greatest deed of arms that was ever done.
The men who fought in it were not urged by ambition or
greed, nor were they soldiers who knew not why they went to battle.
They warred for the freedom of their country, they were few against
many, they might have retreated with honour, after inflicting great
loss on the enemy, but they preferred, with more honour, to die.
It was four hundred and eighty years before the birth of Christ, The Great King, as the Greeks called Xerxes, the Persian monarch,
was leading the innumerable armies of Asia against the small and
divided country of Greece. It was then split into a number of
little States, not on good terms with each other, and while some
were for war, and freedom, and ruin, if ruin must come, with
honour, others were for peace and slavery. The Greeks, who deter-
mined to resist Persia at any cost, met together at the Isthmus of
Corinth, and laid their plans of defence. The Asiatic army, coming
by land, would be obliged to march through a narrow pass called
Thermopylae, with the sea on one side of the road, and a steep and
inaccessible precipice on the other. Here, then, the Greeks made
up their minds to stand. They did not know, till they had marched
to Thermopylae, that behind the pass there was a mountain path,
by which soldiers might climb round and over the mountain, and
fall upon their rear. As the sea on the right hand of the Pass of
Thermopylae lies in a narrow strait, bounded by the island of
Euboea, the Greeks thought that their ships would guard their rear
and prevent the Persians from landing men to attack it. Their
army encamped in the Pass, having wide enough ground to man-
oeuvre in, between the narrow northern gateway, so to speak, by
which the invaders would try to enter, and a gateway to the
south. Their position was also protected by an old military wall,
which they repaired.


THE SPARTANTHREE HUNDRED 65
The Greek general was Leonidas, the Spartan king. He chose
three hundred men, all of whom had sons at home to maintain
their families and to avenge them if they fell. Now the manner
of the Spartans was this: to die rather than yield. However
sorely defeated, or overwhelmed by numbers, they never left the
ground alive and unvietorious, and as this was well known, their
enemies were seldom eager to attack such resolute fighters.
Besides the Spartans, Leonidas led some three or four thousand
men from other cities, and he was joined at Thermopylae by the
Locrians and a thousand Phocians. Perhaps he may have had six
or eight thousand soldiers under him, while the Persians may have
outnumbered them by the odds of a hundred to one. Why, you
may ask, did the Greeks not send a stronger force? The reason
was very characteristic. They were holding their sports at the
time, racing, running, boxing, jumping, and they were also about
to be engaged in another festival. They would not omit or put off
their games however many thousand barbarians might be knocking
at their gates. There is something boyish, and something fine in
this conduct, but we must remember, too, that the games were a
sacred festival, and that the Gods might be displeased if they were
omitted.
Leonidas, then, thought that at least he could hold the Pass
till the games were over, and his countrymen could join him. But
when he found, on arriving at Thermopylae, that he would have to
hold two positions, the Pass itself, and the mountain path, of whose
existence he had not been aware, then some of his army wished to
return home. But Leonidas refused to let them retreat, and bade
the Phocians guard the path across the hills, while he sent home
for reinforcements. He could not desert the people whom he had
come to protect. Meanwhile the Greek fleet was also alarmed,
but was rescued by a storm which wrecked many of the Persian
vessels.
Xerxes was now within sight of Thermopylae He sent a horse-
man forward to spy out the Greek camp, and this man saw the
Spartans amusing themselves with running and wrestling, and
combing their long hair, outside the wall. They took no notice of
him, and he returning, told Xerxes how few they were, and how
unconcerned. Xerxes then sent for Demaratus, an exiled king of
Sparta in his camp, and asked what these things meant. '0
king!' said Demaratus, ' this is what I told you of yore, when you
laughed at my words. These men have come to fight you for the
F


66
THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED
Pass, and for that battle they are making ready, for it is our
country fashion to comb and tend our hair when we are about to
put our heads in peril.'
Xerxes would not believe Demaratus. He waited four days,
and then, in a rage, bade his best warriors, the Medes and Cissians,
bring the Greeks into his presence. The Medes, who were brave
men, and had their defeat at Marathon, ten years before, to avenge,
fell on, but their spears were short, their shields were thin, and
they could not break a way into the stubborn forest of bronze and
steel. In wave upon wave, all day long, they dashed against the
Greeks, and left their best lying at the mouth of the Pass.
'Thereby was it made clear to all men, and not least to the king,
that men are many, but heroes are few.'
Next day Xerxes called on his bodyguard, the Ten Thousand
Immortals, and they came to close quarters, but got no more glory
than the Medes. Thrice the King leaped from his chair in dismay
as thrice the Greeks drove the barbarians in rout. And on the
third day they had no better fortune.
But there was a man, a Malian, whose name is a scorn to this
hour; he was called Epialtes. He betrayed to Xerxes the secret of
the mountain path, probably for money. He later fled to Thessaly
with a price on his head, but returned to Anticyra, and there he
was slain by Athenades. Then Xerxes was glad beyond measure
when he heard of the path, and sent his men along the path by night.
They found the Phocians guarding it, but the Phocians disgracefully
fled to the higher part of the mountain. The Persians, disdaining
to pursue them, marched to the pass behind the Spartan camp, and
the Greeks were now surrounded in van and rear. But news of this
had come to Leonidas, and his army was not of one mind as to
what they should do. Some were for retreating and abandoning a
position which it was now impossible to hold. Leonidas bade them
depart; but for him and his countrymen it was not honourable to
turn their backs on any foe. He sent away the soothsayer, or
prophet, Megistias, but he returned, and bade his son go home.
The Thespians, to their immortal honour, chose to bide the brunt
with Leonidas. There thus remained what was left of the Three
Hundred, their personal attendants, seven hundred Thespians, and
some Thebans, about whose conduct it is difficult to speak with
certainty, as accounts differ. Leonidas, on this last day of his life,
did not wait to be attacked in front and rear, but, sallying into the
open, himself assailed the Persians. They drove the barbarians


THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED
67
like cattle with their spears; the captains of the barbarians drove
them back on the spears with whips. Many fell from the path
into the sea, and there perished, and many more were trodden
down and died beneath the feet of their own companions. But
the spears of the Greeks broke at last in their hands, so they drew
their swords, and rushed to yet closer quarters. In this charge fell
Leonidas, 'the bravest man,' says the Greek historian, 'of men
whose names I know,' and he knew the names of all the Three
Hundred. Over the body of Leonidas fell the two brothers of
Xerxes, for they fought for the corpse, and four times the Greeks
drove back the Persians. Now came up the Persians with the
traitor Epialtes, attacking the Greeks in the rear. Now was their
last hour come, so they bore the body of the king within the wall.
There they occupied a little mound in a sea of enemies, and there
each man fought till he died, stabbing with his dagger when his
sword was broken, and biting, and striking with the fist, when
the dagger-point was blunted. Among them all, none made a
better end than Eurytus. He was suffering from a disease of the
eyes, but he bade them arm him, and lead him into the
thick of the battle. Of another, Dieneces, it is told that
hearing the arrows of the Persians would darken the sun, he
answered, 'Good news! we shall fight in the shade.' One man
only, Aristodemus, who also was suffering from a disease of the
eyes, did not join his countrymen, but returned to Sparta. There
he was scouted for a coward, but, in the following year, he fell at
Plataea, excelling all the Spartans in deeds of valour.
This is the story of the Three Hundred. The marble lion
erected where Leonidas fell has perished, and perished has the
column engraved with their names, but their glory is immortal.1
'Herodotus,
J a


68

PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
CHATTER I
THE FLIGHT
April 16, 1746. It was an April afternoon, grey and cold, with
gleams of watery sunshine, for in the wilds of Badenoch the
spring comes but slowly, and through April on to May the mountains
are as black and the moors as sombre and lifeless as in the dead of
winter. In a remote corner of this wild track stood, in 1746, a grey,
stone house with marsh-lands in front, severe and meagre as the
houses were at that time in the Highlands. Upstairs in a room by
herself a little girl of ten was looking out of the window. She had
been sent up there to be out of the way, for this was a very busy
day in the household of Gortuleg. The Master, Mr. Fraser, was
entertaining the chief of his clan, old Lord Lovat, who, in these
anxious days, when the Trince was at Inverness and the Duke of


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
69
Cumberland at Aberdeen, had thought fit to retire into the wilds
of Badenoch, to the house of his faithful clansman.
Downstairs, the astute old man of eighty was sitting in his arm-
chair by the fire, plotting how he could keep in with both parties
and secure his own advantage whichever side might win. By some

strange infatuation the household at Gortuleg were cheerful and
elate. A battle was imminent, nay, might have been fought even
now, and they were in securely on another success to the
Prince's army. So the ladies of the family—staunch Jacobites
every one of them (as, indeed, most ladies were even in distinctly


70
PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
Whig households)—were busy preparing a feast in honour of the
expected victory. The little girl sat alone upstairs, hearing the din
and commotion and looking out on the vacant marsh-land outside.
Suddenly and completely the noise ceased below, and the child
seized her opportunity and crept downstairs. All was still in the
big living-room, only in the dim recess of the fireplace the old lord
was sitting, a silent, brooding figure, in his deep armchair. The
rest of the household, men and women, gentle and simple, were
all crowded in the doorway, breathlessly intent on something out-
side. Threading her way through them the child crept outside the
circle and looked eagerly to see what this might be. Across the
grey marshes horsemen were riding, riding fast, though the horses
strained and stumbled, and the riders had a weary, dispirited air.
'It is the fairies' was the idea that flashed through her brain,
and in a moment she was holding her eyelids open with her fingers,
for she knew that the ' good people,' if they do show themselves, are
only visible between one winking of the eyes and another. But
this vision did not pass away, and surely never were fairy knights
in such a sorry plight as was this travel-stained, dishevelled company
that drew rein at the door of Gortuleg.
The leader of the band was a young man in Highland dress,
tall and fair, and with that 'air' of which his followers fondly
complained afterwards that no disguise could conceal it. At the
sight of him, arriving in this plight at their doors, a great cry of
consternation broke from the assembled household. There was
no need to tell the terrible news: the Prince was a fugitive, a
battle had been lost, and the good cause was for ever undone!
It was no time for idle grieving, immediate relief and refresh-
ment must be provided, and the Prince sent forward without
delay on his perilous flight. The ladies tore off their laces and
handkerchiefs to bind up wounds, and wine was brought out for the
fugitives. There is no certain account of Charles's interview with
Lord Lovat; we do not know whether the cunning old man turned
and upbraided the Prince in his misfortune, or whether the instincts
of a Highland gentleman overcame for a moment the selfishness of
the old chief. Anyway, this was no time to bandy either upbraidings
or compliments. Forty minutes of desperate fighting on the field
of Culloden that morning had broken for ever the strength of the
Jacobite cause. Hundreds lay dead where they fell, hundreds were
prisoners in the hands of the most relentless of enemies, hundreds
were fleeing in disarray to their homes among the mountain fast-


72
PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
Highlanders on long marches over rough ground; the coarsest and
scantiest meals never came amiss to him ; he could sleep on the hard
ground or lie hid in bogs for hours with a stout heart and a cheerful
spirit.
Here on the night of Saturday, the 19th, among the mountains
that surround Loch Morar, no better shelter could be found than a
shieling used for shearing sheep.
The next day, Sunday, the 20th, they came down to the coast
and found refuge in the hospitable house of Borodale, belonging to
Mr. Angus Macdonald, a clansman of Clanranald's. Nine months
before, when the Prince had landed from France and had thrown
himself without arms or following on the loyalty of his Highland
friends, this Angus Macdonald had been proud to have him as his
guest. One of his sons, John, had joined the Prince's army and had
fought under his own chief, young Clanranald. This young man
was at this time supposed to have been killed at Culloden, though in
fact he had escaped unhurt. When the Prince, therefore, entered this
house of mourning he went up to Mrs. Macdonald and asked her
with tears in his eyes if she could endure the sight of one who had
caused her such distress. 'Yes,' said the high-hearted old Highland-
woman, ' I would be glad to have served my Prince though all my
sons had perished in his service, for in so doing they would only
have done their duty.'1
While resting here at Borodale, Charles sent his final orders to the
remnant of his gallant army, which under their chiefs had drawn
to a head at Ruthven. They were to disperse, he wrote, and secure
their own safety as best they could; they must wait for better
times, when he hoped to return bringing foreign succours. Heart-
breaking orders these were for the brave men who had lost all in the
Prince's cause, and who were now proscribed and homeless fugitives.
Charles and the handful of men who accompanied him had
expected that, once safely arrived at the coast, their troubles would
be over and the way to Nu clear. But at Borodale they lcarnec1
that the Western seas swarmed with English ships of war and with
sloops manned by the local militia. A thorough search was being
made of every bay and inlet of the mainland, and of every island,
even to the Outer Hebrides, and further, to remote St. Kilda!
This disconcerting news was brought by young Clanranald and Mr.
1 'I had three suns, who now hae nane,
I bred them toiling sarely,
And I wad bare them a' again
And lose them a' for Charlie 1'


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
78
jEneas Macdonald of Kinloch Moidart, the Parisian banker who
had accompanied Charles from France. The latter had just
returned from an expedition to South Uist, where he had more
than once narrowly escaped being taken by some vigilant English
cruiser. It was impossible, he urged, for a ship of any size to
escape through such a closely-drawn net; the idea of starting
directly for France must be abandoned, but could the Prince
escape to the outer islands and there secure a suitable vessel, he
might be out upon the wide seas before his departure was dis-
covered. It was therefore decided that the little party should cross
the Minch in an open boat and make for the Long Island. For this
expedition the very man was fortheoming in the person of the
Highland pilot who had accompanied Mr. Macdonald to South
Uist. This was old Donald MacLeod of Guatergill, in Skye, a
trader of substance and a man of shrewdness and experience. In
spite of being a MacLeod he was a staunch Jacobite, and had joined
the Prince's army at Inverness. He had a son, a mere lad, at
school in that place; this boy, hearing that a battle was likely
to take place, flung aside his book, borrowed a dirk and a
pistol, and actually fought in the battle of Culloden. More lucky than
most, he escaped from the fight, tracked the Prince to Borodale, and
arrived in time to take his place as one of the eight rowers whom
his father had collected for the expedition. The boat belonged to
the missing John Macdonald, for the Borodale family gave life
and property equally unhesitatingly in the Prince's service.
On April 26, in the deepening twilight, the party started from
Loclmanuagh. Hardly had they set out when they were over-
taken by a terrible storm, the worst storm, Donald declared, that
be had ever been out in, and he was an experienced sailor. The
Prince demanded vehemently that the boat should be run on shore,
but Donald, knowing the rock-bound coast, answered that to do so
would be to run on certain death. Their one chance was to hold
out straight to sea. It was pitch dark, the rain fell in torrents;
they had neither lantern, compass, nor pump on board. Charles
lay at the bottom of the boat, with his head between Donald's
knees. No one spoke a word; every moment they expected to be
overwhelmed in the waves or dashed against a rock, and for several
hours the vessel rushed on in the darkness. 'But as God would
have it,' to use Donald's words, ' by peep of day we discovered our-
selves to be on the coast of the Long Isle. We made directly for
the nearest land, which was hes in Benbecula.'


74 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
Here they found only a deserted hut, low, dark, and destitute
of window or chimney ; the floor was clay, and when they had lit a
fire, the peat smoke was blinding and stifling. Still, they could dry
their clothes and sleep, even though it were on a bed no better than
a sail spread on the hard ground. Here they rested two days, and
then found a more comfortable refuge in the Island of Scalpa,
where the tacksman—although a Campbell—was a friend of
Donald MacLeod's and received them hospitably.
CHAPTEE II
ON THE LONG ISLAND
The object of the expedition was, of course, to find some vessel big
enough to carry the Prince and his friends over to France. Such
ships were to be had in Stornoway, and Donald MacLeod, being a
man well known in these parts, undertook to secure a vessel and
pilot, under the pretence of going on a trading expedition to the
Orkneys. The Prince and his party were to remain at Scalpa till
Donald should send for them. On May 3 came the message
that vessel and pilot were in readiness, and that they should come
to Stornoway without a moment's delay.
Owing to the wind being ahead it was impossible to go by sea,
and the Prince and his two Irish followers were forced to go the
thirty miles to Stornoway on foot. No footpath led through the
wastes of heavy, boggy moorlands, the rain fell with an even down-
pour, and the guide stupidly mistook the way and added eight
long Highland miles to the distance. They were thoroughly
drenched, exhausted, and famished when Donald met them at a
place a mile or two out of Stornoway. Having cheered their bodies
with bread and cheese and brandy, and their souls with the hopeful
prospect of starting the next day for France, he took them to a
house in the neighbourhood, Kildun, where the mistress, though
a MacLeod, was, like most of her sex, an ardent Jacobite. Leaving
the Prince and his friends to the enjoyment of food, dry clothes, a
good fire, and the prospect of comfortable beds for tired limbs,
Donald went back to Stornoway in hopeful spirits to complete his
arrangements for taking the Prince on board. Another twenty-
four hours and the ship would have weighed anchor, and the worst
difficulties would be left behind. But as soon as he entered


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS 75
Stornoway he saw that something was wrong. Three hundred
men of the militia were in arms, and the whole place was in an
uproar. The secret had leaked out; one of the boat's crew, getting
tipsy, had boasted that the Prince was at hand with five hundred
men, ready to take by force what he could not obtain by
good-will.
The inhabitants of Stornoway were all Mackenzies, pledged by
their chief, Seaforth, to loyal support of the Government. It is
eternally to their honour that all that they demanded was that the
Prince should instantly remove himself from their neighbourhood.
Not one amongst them seems to have suggested that a sum of
30,000?. was to be gained by taking the Prince prisoner. So
complete was Donald's confidence in their honesty that he did not
hesitate to say to a roomful of armed militiamen, ' He has only two
companions with him, and whenI am there I make a third, and
yet let me tell you, gentlemen, that if Seaforth himself were here
he durst not put a hand to the Prince's breast.' Donald doubtless
looked pretty formidable as he said these words; at any rate, the
'honest Mackenzies'had no sinister intentions, only they vehemently
insisted that the party should depart at once, and, what was worse,
absolutely refused to give them a pilot. In vain Donald offered
5007.; fear made them obdurate; and so, depressed and crestfallen,
Donald returned to Kildun and urged the Prince to instant flight.
But not even the fear of immediate capture could induce the three
wearied men to set out again in the wet and darkness to plod over
rocks and morasses with no certain goal. So Donald had to control
his fears and impatience till next day.
At eight next morning they started in the boat, hospitable Mrs.
MacLeod insisting on their taking with them beef, real, and even
the luxuries of brandy, butter, and sugar. The weather being
stormy they landed on a little desert island called Eiurn, which the
Stornoway fishermen used as a place for drying fish. Between
some fish which they found drying on the rocks and Mrs. MacLeod's
stores they lived in comparative luxury for the next few days. Ned
Burke, the valet, was told off as cook; but he soon found that the
Prince was far more skilful in the art of cookery than himself. It
was his Royal Highness who suggested the luxury of butter with
the fish, and who made a quite original cake by mixing the brains
of a cow with some meal, giving orders to' birsle the bannock weel,
or it would not do at all.' Donald used to declare that in all his
life 'he never knew anyone better at a shift than the Prince when


76 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
he happened to be at a pinch.' Like many another unfortunate
man, whether prince or peasant, Charles found unfailing comfort
in tobacco. He seems to have smoked nothing more splendid than
clay pipes, and ' as in his wanderings these behoved to break, he
used to take quills, and putting one into the other and all into the
end of the "cutty," this served to make it long enough, and the
tobacco to smoke cool.'
Donald records another characteristic little trait of the Prince at
this time. On quitting the island he insisted on leaving money on
the rocks to pay for the fish they had consumed.1
In the meantime the situation was growing more and more
dangerous. Rumours had got abroad that the Prince was in the
Long Island, and the search was being actively pursued. Two
English men-of-war were stationed near the island, and sloops and
gunboats ran up every bay and sound, while bodies of militia carried
on the search by land. These, from their intimate knowledge of
the country, would have been the more formidable enemy of the
two if many of their officers had not had a secret sympathy with
the Jacobite cause and very lukewarm loyalty to the Government.
For several days the Prince's boat had been so constantly
pursued that it was impossible for the crew to land. They ran
short of food, and were reduced to eating oatmeal mixed with salt
water, a nauseous mixture called in Gaelic, Drammach. At last
they ran into a lonely bay in Benbecula, where they were free from
pursuit. It is characteristic of the Prince's irrepressible boyishness
that he and the boatmen here went lobster-hunting with great
enjoyment and success.
Without help at this juncture the little party must either have
starved or fallen into the hands of their enemies. Charles therefore
sent a message to the old chief of Clanranald—the largest proprietor
in South Uist— begging him to come and see him.
Nine months before, when the Prince had landed on that island
on his way from France, the old gentleman had refused to see him,
pleading old age and infirmity. His brother, Macdonald of Boisdale,
had seen the Prince and had vehemently urged him to give up so
hopeless a design and to return to France; and, when he found that
all persuasion was in vain, had roundly refused to promise him any
assistance from his brother's clan. And though young Clanranald
1 In this he resembled his father, who, on leaving Scotland after the failure of 1715,
sent money to Arpyil to compensate the country folk whose cottages had been burned in
the war; uu iice without precedent or imitation.


PRINCECHABLIE'S WANDEBINGS 77
had, indeed, joined the Prince's standard, it was with many mis-
givings and against his better judgment.
But now, in the hour of Charles's total abandonment and distress,
this gallant family laid aside all selfish prudence. The old chief, in
spite of age and ill-health, came immediately to the wretched hut
where Charles had taken refuge, bringing with him Spanish wines,
provisions, shoes, and stockings. He found the young man, whom
he reverenced as his rightful king, in a hut as big as, and no cleaner
than, a pig-stye, haggard and worn with hardship and hunger. 'His
shirt,' as Dougal Graham, the servant, was quick to observe, 'was
as dingy as a dish-clout.' That last little detail of misery appealed
strongly to the womanly heart of Lady Clanranald, who immediately
sent six good shirts to the Prince.
For the next three weeks Charles enjoyed a respite under the
vigilant protection of Clanranald and his brother Boisdale. They
found a hiding-place for him in the Forest-house of Glencoridale, a
hut rather bigger and better than most. By a system of careful
spies and watchers they kept the Prince informed of every move-
ment of the enemy. It was the month of June—June as it is in
the North, when days are warm and sunny and the evening twilight
is prolonged till the early dawn, and there is no night at all. South
Uist, beyond all other islands of the Hebrides, abounds in game of
all kinds, and the Prince was always a keen sportsman. He
delighted his followers by shooting birds on the wing, he fished
(though it was only sea-fishing from a boat), and he shot red-deer
on the mountains.
Once, when Ned Burke was preparing some collops from a deer
the Prince had shot, a wild, starved-looking lad approached, and
seeing the food, thrust his hand into the dish without either 'with
your leave or by your leave,' and began devouring it like a savage.
Ned in a rage very naturally began to beat the boy, but the gentle
Prince interfered, and reminded his servant of the Christian duty
of feeding the hungry, adding, 'I cannot see anyone perish for
lack of food or raiment if I have it in my power to help them.'
Having been fed and clothed the wretched boy went off straight to
a body of militia in the neighbourhood and tried to betray the
Prince to them. Fortunately, his appearance and manners were
such that no one believed him, and he was laughed at for his pains.
Out of at least a hundred souls, gentle and simple, who knew of the
Prince's hiding-place, this 'young Judas' was the only one who
dropped the slightest hint of his whereabouts.


78
PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
Nor was it only among the Jacobite clans that Charles found i
devoted and vigilant friends.
The two most powerful chiefs in the North-west of Scotland were
at this time MacLeod of MacLeod and Sir Alexander Macdonald of
Mugstatt, or Mouggestot, in Skye. These two had, to the great dis-
appointment of the Jacobites, declared for the Government, and had
shown considerable zeal in trying to suppress the rising; but in
the very household of Mugstatt Charles had a romantic and zealous
adherent in the person of Lady Margaret, Sir Alexander Macdonald's
wife. A daughter of the house of Eglintoun, she had been brought
up in Jacobite principles, and now, in the absence of her husband,
did all she could to help the Prince in his distress. Through the
help of a certain Mr. Hugh Macdonald of Belshair she kept Charles
informed of the enemy's movements and sent him newspapers.
Towards the end of June the Government authorities were pretty
certain that the Prince was hiding somewhere in the Long Island,
and attention began to be concentrated on that spot. Two more
English cruisers were sent there, under Captains Scott and Fer-
gusson—men who had learnt lessons of cruelty from the greatest
master of that art, the Duke of Cumberland—and militia bands
patrolled the whole island. It was quite necessary to remove the
Prince from Glencoridale, and the faithful Belshair was at once
despatched by Lady Margaret to consult with Charles about his
further movements. This Mr. Macdonald of Belshair arranged
with Macdonald of Boisdale—one of the shrewdest as well as
kindest of the Prince's friends—that they should meet at the Forest-
house of Glencoridale. The meeting, in spite of hardships and
danger and a worse than uncertain future, was a merry one. The
two Highland gentlemen dined with the Prince (on 'sooty beef
and apparently a plate of butter!), and the talk was cheerful and
free. Forgetful of the gloomy prospects of the Jacobite cause, and
ignoring the victorious enemies encamped within a few miles of
them, they talked hopefully of future meetings at St. James's, the
Prince declaring that ' if he had never so much ado he would be at
least one night merry with his Highland friends.' But St. James's
was far enough off from Coridale, and in the meantime it became
daily more certain that there was no longer safety for the Prime
in Uist.
The pleasant life in the Forest-house had to be broken up, and
for the next ten weary days the little party lived in their boat,
eluding as well as they could their enemies by sea and by land.


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS 79
Their difficulties were much increased and their spirits sadly
disturbed by the fact that their generous friend Boisdale had been
taken prisoner.
It is one of the most singular facts of the Prince's wanderings
that as soon as he lost one helpful friend another immediately rose
up to take his place. This time an ally was found literally in
the enemy's camp. One of the officers in command of the militia
in Benbecula was a certain Hugh Macdonald of Armadale, in
Skye, a clansman of Sir Alexander's, but, like many another Mac-
donald, a Jacobite at heart. It is very uncertain how far he was
personally responsible for the plan that was at this time being
formed for the Prince's escape. Donald MacLeod and others of the
Prince's party were certain that Charles had met and talked with
him at Rossinish and had presented him with his pistols. This
gentleman had a step-daughter, a certain Flora Macdonald, a girl
of remarkable character, courage, and discretion. She generally
lived with her mother at Armadale, in Skye, but just now she was
paying a visit to her brother in South Uist. It is difficult to make
out how or when or by whom the idea was first started that this
lady should convey the Prince to Skye disguised as her servant,
but it appears that she had had more than one interview with
O'Neal on the subject. On Saturday, June 21, being closely
pursued by the implacable Captain Scott, Charles parted with his
faithful little band of followers in Uist, paying the boatmen as
generously as his slender purse would allow. With two clean
shirts under 11is arm and with only O'Neal as his companion he
started for Benbecula. Arriving at midnight in a small shieling
belonging to Macdonald of Milton, 'by good fortune,' as O'Neal
puts it, 'we met with Miss Flora Macdonald, whom I formerly
knew.' It is a little difficult to believe that young ladies of Miss
Flora's discretion were in the habit of frequenting lonely shielings
far from their homes at midnight, at a time when the whole coun-
try was infested with soldiers. Nor does the beginning of her
interview with O'Neal sound like the language of surprise. 'Then
I told her I brought a friend to see her; and she, with some emo-
tion, asked me if it was the Prince. I answered that it was, and in-
stantly brought him in.' Among all the stout Highland hearts which
were ready to risk everything for him, Charles never found one
more brave and pitiful than that of the girl who was introduced to
him in this strange and perilous situation.
The plan was at once proposed to her that she should convey


so
PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
the Prince with her to Skye disguised in female attire as her maid
Flora was no mere romantic miss, eager for adventure and carried
away by her feelings. She was quite aware of the danger she
would bring on herself, and more especially on her friends, by this
course. It was with some reluctance that she at last gave her con-
sent, but once her word was pledged she was ready to go to the
death if need were, and threw all her feminine ingenuity into
carrying out the scheme. They arranged that she was to go next
day to consult with Lady Clanranald and to procure feminine attire
as a disguise for the Prince. As soon as all was prepared they were
to meet at Rossinish in Benbecula; in the meantime O'Neal under-
took to come and go between the Prince and Miss Macdonald to
report progress and convey messages.
The two men seem to have returned to a hiding-place in the
neighbourhood of Glencoridale, and Miss Flora returned to Milton.
She had to pass one of the narrow sea fords next day on her way to
Ormaclade, the Clanranalds' house; this ford was guarded by a
body of militia, and having no passport, she and her servant, Neil
MacKechan, were taken prisoners. The situation was awkward in
the extreme, and every hour's delay was an added danger. To her
great relief she learned that the officer in command, who was
expected that morning, was her stepfather, Mr. Hugh Macdonald.
On his arrival he was (or affected to be) extremely surprised to find his stepdaughter a prisoner in the guard-room; but with a com-
plaisance very remarkable in an officer of the Government, he drew
her out passports for herself, for her servant Neil, and for a new
Irish servant, Betty Burke, whom she desired to take with her to
Skye. So great was Macdonald's interest in this unknown Betty
that he actually wrote a letter to his wife in Skye recommending
the girl.
'I have sent your daughter from this country,' he wrote, 'lest
she should be frightened by the troops lying here. She has got one
Betty Burke, an Irish girl, who, she tells me, is a good spinster. If
her spinning pleases you, you may keep her till she spins all your
lint.' In spite of the gravity of the situation, one cannot help
thinking that Flora and her stepfather must have had a good deal
of amusement concocting this circumstantial and picturesque
falsehood.
As soon as she was set at liberty Flora went to Ormaclade, where
Lady Clanranald entered heartily into the plan. Among her stores
they chose a light coloured quilted petticoat, a flowered gown—


82 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
female attire with them. These loyal ladies found their lawful
sovereign roasting a sheep's liver on a spit; but neither discomfort,
danger, nor dirt could do away with the courtly charm of his manner
or the fine gaiety of his address. He placed Miss Macdonald on
his right hand—he always gave his preserver the seat of honour—
and Lady Clanranald at his left, and the strange little dinner-party
proceeded merrily. But before it was finished a messenger broke
in to tell Lady Clanranald that the infamous Captain Fergusson
had arrived at Ormaclade, and was demanding the mistress of the
house with angry suspicion.
The Prince had now to part with O'Neal, in spite of the poor
fellow's entreaties to be allowed to remain with him. Miss Mac-
donald had only passports for three and the danger was urgent.
He was a faithful and affectionate friend, this O'Neal, if a little
boastful and muddle-headed. He could shortly afterwards have
escaped to France—as O'Sullivan did—in a French ship, if he had
not insisted on going to Skye to try to fetch off the Prince. He
missed the Prince, and fell into the hands of Captain Fergusson.
CHAPTER III
IN SKYE
On Saturday (June 26) the Prince put on his female attire for the
first time, and very strange he must have felt as he sat in flowered
calico on wet, slippery rocks, trying to keep himself warm beside
a fire kindled on the beach. It was eight in the evening when
they started, and the storm broke on them as soon as they were out
at sea. The whole party was distressed and anxious, apparently,
except Charles himself, who sang songs and told stories to keep up
the spirits of his companions. Long afterwards Flora Macdonald
loved to tell how chivalrously and considerately he looked after her
comfort on that dangerous journey.
Going round the north end of the Isle of Skye, they came ashore
close to Mugstatt, Sir Alexander Macdonald's place. That chief
was himself away at Fort Augustus with the Duke of Cumberland,
but his wife, Lady Margaret, who, as we have seen, was a staunch
friend to the Prince, was at home. Still in her position it was
most undesirable that Charles should present himself at her house.
Miss Macdonald and her servant Neil went up to the house- the


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS 83
garden sloped down to the part of the shore where they had
landed—leaving Betty Burke sitting on the boxes in her flowered
gown and duffle cloak.
Miss Macdonald had good reason to congratulate herself on her
prudence when she found Lady Margaret's drawing-room full of
guests. Among these was Mrs. Macdonald of Kirkibost, but she
was already in the secret; Mr. Macdonald of Kingsburgh was also
there, but he was a man of such a chivalrous spirit and so kindly
in his disposition, that the secret would have been safe with him
even if he had not been—as he was—a staunch Jacobite at heart.
Far more formidable was a third guest, young Lieutenant MacLeod,
a militia officer who, with a small body of men, was stationed at
Mugstatt for the express purpose of examining every boat that
might arrive from the Long Island. He certainly neglected this
duty as far as Miss Macdonald's boat was concerned, possibly out
of complaisance to her hostess, Lady Margaret, possibly because the
young lady's careless demeanour disarmed all suspicion.
The situation was a most anxious one for Miss Macdonald; she
had to carry on an easy flow of chat with a young officer while
all the time she could think of nothing but Betty Burke sitting on
her box on the shore. Every moment was precious and nothing
was being done.
At last, during dinner, she managed to confide the whole situa-
tion to Kingsburgh, and while she kept the lieutenant engaged, the
latter left the room and sent for Lady Margaret to speak to him on
business. (He was her husband's factor, and there was nothing to
excite remark in his wanting a private talk with her.) On learning
the news she for a moment lost her head, and screamed out that
they were undone. But with much sense and kindness Kings-
burgh reassured her, saying that if necessary he would take the
Prince to his own house, adding, with a touch of his characteristic
chivalry, that he was now an old man, and it made very little dif-
ference to him whether he should die with a halter round his neck
or await a death which could not be far distant.
As for the immediate future, the first idea that occurred both to
Lady Margaret and Kingsburgh was, ' Let us send for Donald Roy.'
This Donald was a brother of the Macdonald of Belshair who had
visited the Prince at Coridale. He had been'out'with the Prince's
army, and was now living with a surgeon near Mugstatt, trying to
recover from a serious wound in his foot received at Culloden.
This Donald must have been a good fellow, popular, and liked by


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
85
After the Prince had had something to eat and drink, the pair
set out to walk to Kingsburgh, a considerable distance off'. Un-
fortunately it was Sunday, and they met many country people
returning from church, who were all eager to have a little business
chat with Sir Alexander's factor. He got rid of most of them by
slyly reminding them of the sacredness of the day, for the Prince's
awkward movements and masculine stride made his disguise
very apparent. 'They may call you the Pretender,' cried Kings-
burgh, between annoyance and amusement, 'but I never knew anyone so bad at your trade.'
At the first stream they had to cross the Prince lifted his skirts
with a most masculine disregard of appearances, and to mend
matters, when he came to the next, let his petticoats float in the
water with a most unfeminine disregard of his clothes.
Halfway on their road Miss Macdonald rode past them on
horseback, accompanied by Mrs. MacDonald of Kirkibost and the
latter's maid. 'Look, look,' cried that damsel, 'what strides the
jade takes! I dare say she's an Irishwoman or else a man in
woman's clothes.' Miss Macdonald thought it best to quicken her
pace and make no reply.
She was already at Kingsburgh when the Prince and his host
arrived there at about eleven o'clock. All the household were in
bed. A message was sent up to Mrs. Macdonald to tell her of the
arrival of guests, but she very naturally refused to get up, and
merely sent her compliments to Miss Macdonald and begged she
would help herself to everything she wanted. When, however,
her husband came up to her room and gravely requested her to
come down and attend to his guest, she felt that something was
wrong. Nor did it allay her fears when her little daughter ran up
crying that' the most odd, muckle, ill-shaken-up wife ' she had seen
in all her life was walking up and down in the hall. Mrs. Mac-
donald entered the main room with some misgiving, and in the
uncertain firelight saw a tall, ungainly woman striding up and
down. The figure approached her and, according to the manners
of the time, saluted her. The rough touch of the unshaven lip left
no doubt on the lady's mind; her husband's guest was certainly a
man in disguise, probably a proscribed Jacobite. She hurried out
of the room and met Kingsburgh in the hall. It did not occur
to this good woman to upbraid her husband for bringing danger on
his family; her first question was, ' Do you think the stranger will
know anything about the Prince '?'


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
'My dear,' said Kingstrargh very gravely, taking her hands in
his, ' this is the Prince himself!'
'The Prince !' cried Mrs. Macdonald, rather overwhelmed,' then
we shall all be hanged!'
'We can die but once,' said her husband, ' could we ever die in
a better cause?'
Then, returning to the homely necessities of the hour, he begged
her to bring bread and cheese and eggs.
Bread and cheese and eggs to set before Royalty! This disgrace
to her housewifery affected Mrs. Macdonald almost as feelingly as
the danger they were in. The idea, too, of sitting down at supper
with her lawful sovereign caused the simple lady the greatest
embarrassment. However, she was prevailed upon to take the seat
at the Prince's left hand, while Miss Macdonald had her usual place
at his right. After the ladies had retired Charles lighted his 'cutty,'
and he and Kingsburgh had a comfortable chat and a bowl of punch
over the fire. Indeed, good food, good fires, and good company were
such congenial luxuries after the life he had been leading, that Charles
sat on and on in his chair, and the hospitable Kingsburgh had at
last to insist upon his guest going to bed.
Hour after hour the Prince slept on next morning, Kingsburgh
being unwilling to disturb the one good rest he might have for
weeks; Miss Macdonald was growing impatient and Mrs. Macdonald
anxious, and at last Kingsburgh consented to rouse him at about
one o'clock. Portree was seven miles off, and had to be reached
before dark. It was decided that the Prince might resume male
attire en route, but in case of exciting suspicion among the servants
he had still to masquerade as Betty Burke till he left the house, Mrs. Macdonald, her daughter, and Miss Flora all came up to assist
at his toilet, for ' deil a preen could he put in,' as his hostess ex-
pressed herself. He laughed so heartily over his own appearance
that they could hardly get his dress fastened. Before he left the
room he permitted Flora Macdonald to cut off a lock of his hair,
which she divided with Mrs. MacLeod. What is a still more
touching proof of the devotion of these two good women is that they
carefully took off the sheets of the Prince's bed, vowing that those
should be neither washed nor used again till they should serve each
of them as winding-sheets. Kingsburgh accompanied his guests
part of the way, assisted Charles to change his dress in a little wood,
and then, with tears, bade him farewell.
Flora Macdonald rode on to Portree by another road, leaving


PRINCECHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
87
her servant, Neil MaeKechan, and a little herd-boy to act as guides
to the Prince.
In the meantime, Donald Boy had been active in the Prince's
service. At Portree he had met young Bona MacLeod of Basay
and his brother Murdoch, and, as he had expected, found them
eager to face any danger or difficulty for their Prince. They had
a cousin rather older than themselves, Malcolm MacLeod, who had
been a captain in the Prince's army. He entered into the scheme
as heartily as the other two, and only suggested prudently that
Bona should leave the matter to himself and Murdoch, who were
'already as black as black can be.' But Rona was not to be baulked
of his share of the danger and glory of serving the Prince, and
vowed that he would go even if it should cost him his estate and
his head. So with two stout faithful boatmen they arrived within
a mile of Portree, drew up their boat among the rocks where it
could be hid, and remained waiting for the Prince, while the night
fell and the rain came down in sheets.
It had been arranged at Mugstatt that Donald Roy was to meet
the Prince, late on Monday afternoon in the one public-house that
Portree could boast. This public-house consisted of one large, dirty,
smoky room, and people of all kinds kept going in and out, and here
Donald took up his post. Flora Macdonald was the first to arrive,
and she, Donald Roy, and Malcolm MacLeod sat together over the
fire waiting anxiously. It was already dark when a small, wet herd-
boy slipped in and going up to Donald whispered that a gentleman
wanted to see him. The poor Prince was standing in the darkness
outside drenched to the skin. As soon as they were at the inn Donald
insisted on his changing his clothes, and Malcolm at once gave him
his own dry philibeg. Food they could get, and water was brought
in an old, battered, rusty tin from which the Prince drank, being
afraid of arousing suspicion by any fastidiousness. He also bought
sixpennyworth of the coarsest tobacco, and nearly betrayed his
quality to the already suspicious landlord by a princely indifference
to his change, but Malcolm prudently secured the 'bawbees' and
put them into the Prince's sporran.
Miss Flora now rose very sadly to go, as she had to continue
her journey that night. The Prince kissed her and said farewell
with much suppressed emotion, but with his usual hopefulness
added that he trusted that they might yet meet at St. James's.
These constant partings from so many faithful, warm-hearted
friends were among the hardest trials of Charles's wandering life.


88
miNCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
He seems to have clung with special affection to Donald Roy, and
urged him again and again not to leave him, but to go with him to
Rasay. Donald could only reply that the state of his wounded foot
made it impossible.
This conversation took place as they plunged through wet and
darkness from Portree down to, the shore where the boat was lying.
Malcolm MacLeod, who made a third in the little party, had a spirit
as firm and a heart as warm as Donald's own, and before the end
of the week the Prince was clinging with the same affection to this
new friend.
The wild and desolate island of Rasay offered the Prince a
comparatively secure hiding-place, and the three MacLeods had
both the will and the power to protect him, and to provide a reason-
able amount of comfort for him. But a kind of restlessness seems
to have come over the Prince at this time. It was only by being
constantly on the move that he could escape from anxious and painful
thoughts. Possibly he may have felt a little insecure in the midst
of the Clan MacLeod (though he had met nowhere with more
devotion than that of the three cousins); he certainly seems to
have bestowed far more affection and confidence on Malcolm than
on the other two.
On Thursday he insisted on starting for Skye, in spite of the
entreaties of the young MacLeods, nor would he turn back when
a storm broke and threatened to overwhelm them. It was night
before they landed at Trotternish, a night such as had become
familiar to the Prince, dark and chill and pouring with rain. They
made for a byre on the property of Mr. Nicholson of Scorobeck.
Young Rasay went on in front to see that no one was there. 'If
there had been anyone in it, what would you have done ?' he asked
the Prince, rather reproachfully; for Charles's self-will and fool-
hardiness must at times have been very trying to those who were
risking life and estate for him. In the byre they lighted a fire,
dried their clothes, and slept for some hours. The next day, Rona
being away, the Prince asked Murdoch if he would accompany him
into the country of the Mackinnons in the south of Skye (the old
chief of that clan had been in the Prince's army, and Charles felt
that he would be safe amongst them). Murdoch's wound prevented
his undertaking such a journey—it was thirty miles over the wildest
part of Skye -but Malcolm could go, and his cousin assured the
Prince that he could nowhere find a more faithful and devoted
servant. So the pair set out in the morning for their wild tramp.


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
89
To prevent discovery the Prince affected to be Malcolm's servant,
walked behind him, and, further to disguise himself, put his periwig
in his pocket and bound a dirty cloth round his head—a disguise
specially calculated, one would think, to excite attention. The two
young men talked frankly and confidentially, making great strides
in friendship as they went along. Once the covey of partridges rose,
and, with a true British instinct for sport at all hazards,1 the Prince
raised his gun and would have fired if Malcolm had not caught
his arm. They were careful to pass through the hostile MacLeod
country at night, and at break of day arrived in Strath, the country
of the Mackinnons. Malcolm MacLeod had a sister married to a
Mackinnon, an honest, warm-hearted fellow who had followed his
chief and served as captain in the Prince's army. To his house
they directed their steps; Mackinnon himself was away, but his
wife received her brother and his friend with the utmost kindness.
The Prince passed for a certain Lewis Caw, a surgeon's apprentice
(who was actually ' skulking' in Skye at the time), and acted his
part of humble retainer so well that poor Malcolm was quite
embarrassed; and the rough servant-lass treated him with the
contempt Highland servants seem to have for their own class, if
'Lowland bodies.' Both the tired travellers lay down to sleep, and
when Malcolm awoke late in the afternoon he found the sweet-
tempered Prince playing with Mrs. Mackinnon's little child. 'Ah,
little man,' he cried, in a moment of forgetfulness, 'you may live
to be a captain in my service yet.' 'Or you an old sergeant in his,'
said the indignant nurse, jealous of her charge's position.
Next day Malcolm went out to meet his brother-in-law. He
had absolute confidence in Mackinnon's faithfulness and loyalty,
but he feared that his warm-hearted feelings might lead him into
indiscretions which would betray the Prince; and in spite of all
warnings Mackinnon could not restrain his tears when he saw his
Prince under his roof in such a wretched plight.
It was important that Charles should be at once taken to the
mainland, and John Mackinnon went off at noon to the house of
the chief of the Mackinnons to borrow a boat. This old man was
a fine type of a Highland gentleman. It was his daily—probably
his only—prayer that he might die on the field of battle fighting
for his king and country. He was simple-minded, brave, and faith-
ful, and though now between sixty and seventy, as active and
courageous as any young man. John had received injunctions
'Charles, about 1713, introduced golf into Italy, according to Lord Elcho.


90
PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
not to betray the Prince's presence in the neighbourhood to the
laird, but to keep such a piece of news from his chief was quite
beyond honest John's powers. Nothing would restrain the old man
from going off at once with his wife to pay their homage to the
Prince. Nor would he hear of anyone conducting Charles to the
mainland but himself.
At eight o'clock that night the little party embarked. The
Prince took a most affecting farewell of Malcolm MacLeod. With
courtly punctilio he sent a note to Donald Roy to tell of his safe
departure, then pressed ten guineas—almost his last—on his friend's
acceptance, smoked a last pipe with him, and finally presented him
with the invaluable 'cutty.'
CHAPTER IV
ON THE MAINLAND
To understand the Prince's proceedings for the next few weeks
it is necessary to have a clear idea of the country which was
the scene of his wanderings. From Loch Hourn (which opens
opposite Sleat in Skye) on the north down to Loch Shiel on the
south a little group of wild and rugged peninsulas run out into the
Atlantic, called respectively Knoydart, Morar, Arisaig, and Moidart.
Between these deep narrow lochs run far inland. Loch Nevis lies
between Knoydart and Morar; Loch Morar, a freshwater loch, cuts
off the peninsula of the same name from Arisaig, and this again is
separated from Moidart by Lochs Nanuagh and Aylort, and Loch
Shiel separates the whole group from Ardnamurehan in the south.
The wild, inaccessible nature of the country, the deep valleys and
many rocky hollows in the hills offered many hiding-places; but a
glance at the map will show that a vigilant enemy by stationing
men of war in all the lochs and drawing a cordon of soldiers from
the head of Loch Hourn to the head of Loch Shiel, could draw the
net so tightly that escape would be nearly impossible.
In these first days of July, however, the search was still chiefly
confined to the Long Island and Skye, and Charles got a clear start
of his enemies.' On July 5, in the early morning, he and his faith-
ful Mackinnons landed at a place named Mallach on Loch Nevis,
and spent the next three days in the open. They were in a good





94 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
Glenaladale, had always been a special friend of the Prince's. He
joined him now in the wilds, resolved to share all his worst dangers,
though he had to leave his wife and 'five weak pretty children'
unprotected and living in a bothy, the only home the English
soldiers had left them. The first plan these brave men concerted
together was to carry the Prince into Lochiel's country, where
young Clanranald had promised to provide him a hiding-place.
On their way, however, they heard that a body of soldiers
were approaching from Loch Arkaig, which completely blocked
their way on that side. That same night old Borodale learnt that
General Campbell with several ships was in Loch Nevis, Captain
Scott was still in Lochnanuagh, and parties from these ships were
searching every foot of ground in their neighbourhoods. At the
same time troops had been landed at the head of Loch Hourn, and
others simultaneously at the head of Loch Shiel. Between these
two points the distance as the crow flies must be some twenty or
five-and-twenty miles, but the wild mountainous nature of the
country makes the actual distance far greater. In spite of all
difficulties the Government troops in a few days had drawn a
complete cordon from one point to the other. This cordon con-
sisted of single sentinels planted within sight of each other who
permitted no one to pass unchallenged. At night large fires were
lighted, and every quarter of an hour patrolling parties passed
from one to the other to see that all the sentinels were on the
alert.
Charles's case was almost desperate. For several days he and
his companions lived like hunted animals on the mountain-tops.
They were frequently within sight of some camp of the enemy;
more than once they had to go precipitately down one side of
a hill because the soldiers were coming up the other. They
changed their quarters at night, sometimes marching long miles
merely to reach some mountain which having been searched the
day before was less likely to be visited again. In the daytime the
Prince could snatch a few hours of troubled sleep in some rocky
hollow while the rest of the party kept guard. News of the enemy's
movements was brought them occasionally by secret friends under
cover of darkness, but even their approach was full of terror for
the fugitives. Worst of all was their suffering from hunger.
The soldiers devoured and destroyed what meagre stores the
country could boast, and in spite of the generosity of the poorer
clansmen no food could be had. For four days the whole party


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
95
lived on a few handfuls of dry meal and some butter. On one
occasion soldiers passed below their lair driving cattle. The Prince,
who was starving, proposed to follow them, and ' lift' some of the
cattle in the night. His companions remonstrated, but he led the
part}- himself, and secured the beef.1 The guide, and indeed the
leader of the little band, was a farmer, Donald Cameron of Glenpean.
But for this man's daring courage and his intimate knowledge of
the country the Prince must sooner or later have fallen into the
hands of his enemies.
The circle was daily being drawn more closely round the prey,
and daily the fear of starvation stared them in the face. Should
they wait to die like driven deer or make one desperate effort to
break through the toils that surrounded them, and either escape
or die like men? For brave men there could only be one answer
to such a question. On the night of July 25 they determined to
force their way through the cordon.
All that day the Prince had lain in closest hiding on a hill on the
confines of Knoydart, not a mile from the chain of sentinels. He
had slept some hours while two of the party had kept watch and
the other two had gone and foraged for food, bringing back two dry
cheeses as the result. (Old Borodale had gone back at this time;
the party consisted of his son John, Glenaladale and his brother, and
Cameron of Glenpean.) All day parties of soldiers had been
searching the neighbourhood, and now the sentinel fires were alight
all along the line of defence. At nightfall the little band started,
walking silently and rapidly up a mountain called Drumnachosi.
The way was very steep, and the night very dark. Once crossing a
little stream the Prince's foot slipped, he stumbled, and would have
fallen down over a cliff had not Cameron caught one arm and
Glenaladale the other and pulled him up. From the top of the
hill they could see the sentinel fires close in front of them, and
were near enough to hear the voices of the soldiers quite distinctly.
Under cover of the friendly darkness they crept up another hill
and came out opposite another fire. At a point midway between
these two posts a mountain torrent had made a deep fissure
on the side of a hill on the further side. Could they break
through the line and reach this river-bed the overhanging banks,
aided by the darkness of night, would conceal their figures, and
following the stream they could cross over into wild broken
1 The authority for this is an unpublished anecdote in Bishop Porbes's Ms., The
Lyon in Mourning.


96 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
country, where they could hide themselves. Donald Cameron, with
a fine Highland gallantry, undertook to make trial of the way first.
If he could reach the spot and return again to report ' all safe,' the
rest of the party might make the attempt. It had all to be done .
in a quarter of an hour, for that was the interval at which the
patrolling parties succeeded each other.
In dead silence they waited till the sentinels had past; then as
stealthily and rapidly as a cat Cameron slipped down the hillside
and disappeared into the darkness. The rest stood breathless,
straining every nerve for the faintest sound; no footfall or falling
pebble broke the stillness, and in a few long, heavily-weighted
minutes Cameron returned and whispered that all was well. It
was two o'clock now and the darkness was growing thinner. They
waited till the sentries had crossed again and had now their backs
to the passage, then they all moved forward in perfect silence.
Reaching the torrent, they sank on all fours and one after the other
crept up the rocky bed without a sound. The dreaded cordon was
passed, and in a short time they reached a place where they were
completely hidden and could take a little much-needed rest.
Once clear of this chain of their enemies they turned north-
ward to the Glenelg country. Their plan was to go through the
Mackenzie's country to Poole Ewe, where they hoped to find a
French vessel. But the next day they learned from a wayfaring
man that the only French ship which had been there had left the
coast. Seeing that that plan was fruitless, their next idea was to
move eastward into the wilds of Inverness and wait there till the
way should be clear for the Prince's joining Lochiel in Badenoch.
In Glen Sheil they parted with Cameron of Glenpean, and here
too they had a curious adventure which might have proved seriously
inconvenient to them. They had spent a whole hot August day
hiding behind some rocks on a bare hillside, the midges had
tormented them, and they were oppressed with thirst, but had
not ventured from their hiding-place even to look for water. At
sunset a boy appeared bringing quarts of goat's milk; he was the
son of a certain Macraw, a staunch though secret friend in the
neighbourhood. Glenaladale at this time carried the fortune of
the little party—some forty gold louis and a few shillings—in his
sporran. He paid the lad for the milk, and in his hurry did not
notice that he had dropped his purse. They had hardly gone an
English mile before the loss was discovered, and Glenaladale insisted
at all risks on going back to look for the purse. He and his cousin


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS 97
did indeed find it lying at the expected place, but though some
shillings remained the louis were gone. It was midnight before
the indignant pair reached Macraw's house, and the family were
all asleep. They roused the master, however, and fairly told him
what had happened. No shadow of doubt seems to have crossed
the father's mind, no word of expostulation rose to his lips. 'With-
out a moment's delay he returned to the house, got hold of a rope
hanging there, and gripped his son by the arm in great passion,

saying, "You damned scoundrel, this instant get these poor gentle-
men's money, or by the heavens I'll hang you to that very tree you
see there." The boy, shivering with fear, went instantly for the
money, which he had buried underground thirty yards from his
father's house.' This accident turned out most luckily for the
Prince. He and Glenaladale's brother while awaiting the other
two had hidden behind some rocks; shortly after they were hidden
they saw an officer and two soldiers coming along the very path
they had intended to take. But for the delay caused by their
H


98
PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
companions going back they must have fallen into the hands of their
enemies.
They now turned eastward, and after a long night's march found
themselves in the wild tract of country called the Braes of Glen-
moriston.
Here Charles was to find a new set of friends, different indeed
from the chivalrous Kingsburgh and the high-bred Lady Margaret,
but men who were as staunch and incorruptible as any of his for-
mer friends. These were the famous 'Seven Men of Glenmoris-
ton,' men who had served in the Prince's army, and who now lived
a wild, lawless life among the mountains, at feud with everything
that represented the existing law and order. They have been de-
scribed as a robber band, but that title is misleading. They were
rather a small remnant of irreconcilable rebels who had vowed
undying enmity and revenge against Cumberland and his soldiers.
And indeed there was ample excuse for their hatred and violence
in the cruelties they saw practised all round them. Sixty of their
clansmen after surrendering themselves had been shipped off to the
colonies, all their own possessions and those of their neighbours
had been seized, and friends and kinsfolk had been brutally put to
death.
Swooping down like mountain eagles on detached bands of
soldiers, these seven men wreaked instant vengeance on oppressors
and informers, and carried off arms and baggage in the face of
larger bodies of the enemy. To these men, ignorant, reckless, and
lawless, Charles unhesitatingly confided his person, a person on
whose head a sum of thirty thousand pounds was set.
Four of these men were in a cave, Coraghoth, in the Braes of
Glenmoriston, when Glenaladale brought Charles to see them.
They had expected to see young Clanranald, and as soon as they
saw the Prince one of their number recognised him, but had the
presence of mind to address him as an old acquaintance by the
name of 'MacCullony.' When the four knew who their guest
really was, they bound themselves to be faithful to him by the
dreadful Highland oath, praying ' that their backs might be to God,
and their faces to the devil, and that all the curses the Scriptures
do pronounce might come upon them and their posterity if they
did not stand firm to the Prince in the greatest danger.'
For about three weeks Charles shared the life of these out-
laws, sleeping in caves and holes of the earth, living on the wild
deer of their shooting and the secret gifts of the peasantry. They


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS 99
did not understand his English, but the Prince was beginning to
pick up a little Gaelic. He was able at least to improve their
cooking and reprove their swearing, two services they liked after-
wards to recall. Here too, as elsewhere on his wanderings, the
Prince gained the hearts of all his followers by his gracious gaiety
and plucky endurance of hardships. In the beginning of August
his hopes had again turned to Poole Ewe, but learning for a
second time that no French ship could land on the closely
guarded coast, he and his friends determined to remain in the
northern straths of Inverness-shire till the Government troops
should withdraw from the Great Glen—the chain of lakes which
now forms the Caledonian Canal—and thus leave the way clear
into Badenoch, where Lochiel and Macpherson of Cluny were
hiding.
A curious incident is supposed to have helped the Prince at this
time. There had been among his Life Guards a handsome youth
named Roderick Mackenzie, son of a jeweller in Edinburgh, who
in face and figure was startlingly like the Prince. This lad was
actually ' skulking' among the Braes of Glenmoriston at the time
when the Prince was surrounded in Knoydart. A party of soldiers
tracked him to a hut, which they surrounded. Flight was impos-
sible, and the poor boy stood at bay. As he fell beneath their
sword-thrusts he cried out, 'Villains, ye have slain your King.'
Whether these words were a curious last flash of vanity, or whether
he intended to serve the Prince by a generous act of imposture, can
never be known. The soldiers at any rate believed that they had
secured the prize. They carried off Mackenzie's head with them
to Fort Augustus, and the authorities seem for some time to have
been under the impression that it was indeed that of the Prince.
Possibly it was owing to this that in the middle of August the
Government rather relaxed their vigilance along the Great Glen.
Charles was eager to press at once into Badenoch, but the wary
outlaws would only consent to taking him to the Lochiel country,
between Loch Arkaig, Loch Lochy, and Loch Garry. They
travelled chiefly by night; the season was very wet, and the rivers
were in flood, and they had to cross the River Garry Highland
fashion in a line, with each man's arm on his neighbour's shoulder,
for the water was running breast-high.
At this time the Prince's condition was as bad as at any period
of his wanderings. His clothes were of the coarsest, and they were
in rags. Lady Clanranald's six good shirts had long since disap-
984788A
n 2


100 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
peared; it was as much as he could do to have a clean shirt once a
fortnight. The provisions they carried were reduced to one peck of
meal. In this state did the Prince arrive in the familiar country
round Loch Arkaig. It was a year almost to the day since he had
passed through that very country elate and hopeful at the head of
his brave Macdonalds and Camerons. He was now a fugitive, ill-
fed, ill-clad, with a price on his head; the only thing that was exchanged was the faithful devotion of his Highlanders.
Cameron of Clunes and Macdonald of Lochgarry, or Lochgarie,
though they were themselves ' skulking,' received the Prince with the
utmost kindness and found a hiding-place for him in a hut in a wood
at the south side of Loch Arkaig. Here the outlaws left him; only
one of their number, Patrick Grant, remained till the Prince should
be supplied with money to reward their faithful service. From this
place, also, John Macdonald and Glenaladale's brother returned to
the coast, where they were to keep a careful look-out and to send
the Prince news of any French ship which might appear.
Glenaladale still remained, but the Prince's thoughts were turn-
ing more and more towards Badenoch, where his friend Lochiel was
in comparatively secure hiding.
Among all the gallant gentlemen who risked life and estate in
this rising there is no figure more attractive than that of the
'Gentle Lochiel.' He had for years before the rebellion been the
mainstay of the Jacobite party. No man in the Highlands carried
so much weight as he, partly from his position, but more from his
talents and the charm of his character. 'Wise' and 'gentle' are
the words that were applied to him, and with all the qualities of a
high-bred gentleman he combined the simpler virtues of the High-
land clansman—faithfulness, courage, and a jealous sense of per-
sonal honour. From the very beginning he had seen the folly of
the rising. But when he had failed to convince Charles of its
hopelessness, he had thrown himself into the movement as if it
had been of his own devising. Never did he afterwards reproach
Charles by word or look for the ill-fated result.
He and his cousin, Macpherson of Cluny, were at this time
hiding among the recesses of Benalder. The road to Inverness
ran by within a few miles, and at a little distance lay Lord
Loudoun's camp, but so great was the devotion of the clansmen, so
admirable their caution and secrecy, that the English commander
had not the slightest suspicion that the two most important Jacobite
fugitives had for three months been in hiding so near to him.


102 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
bacon, butter, cheese, &c, and an anker of whisky, and the Prince
was almost overwhelmed by such an excess of luxury. 'Now,
gentlemen,' he said with a cheerful air, 'now I live like a Prince.'
Charles's wardrobe was as usual most dilapidated, and Cluny's three
sisters set at once to work to make him a set of six shirts with
their own fair hands, doubtless sewing the most passionate loyalty
and infinite regret into their 'seams.'
The hiding-place where the Prince was now concealed was a
very curious but contrived by Cluny in one of the inmost recesses
of the hills. It was called ' The Cage,' and was placed in a little
thicket on the rocky slope of a hill. The walls were formed by
actual growing trees with stakes planted between them, the whole
woven together by ropes of heather and birch. Till you were close
to the hut it looked merely like a thick clump of trees and bushes.
The smoke escaped along the rocks, and the stone being of a bluish
colour it could easily pass unnoticed. This hut could only hold
six persons at a time, so the party generally divided in this way:
one man cooked the food, four played cards, and the last man looked
on at the others and possibly smoked!
Probably they played cards and talked and jested over the daily
needs and hardships, and spoke little of the disastrous times that
lay behind them, or the doubtful hopes that lay before them. Fear-
ing lest the Prince might have to remain in hiding all winter the
ingenious Cluny began to fit up a subterranean dwelling, thickly
boarded up, where the party would have been in safety and shelter.
But in the meantime no efforts were lacking to find a means of
escape. Lochiel's brother, the clergyman, a man of great prudence,
went secretly to Edinburgh, and there procured a ship and sent it
round to a port on the East coast to await the Prince. Succour,
however, had come from another quarter; it was known to the
Prince and his followers that a certain Colonel Warren was fitting
out a couple of ships in France for the purpose of bringing off the
Prince, and daily they expected news of their arrival. On
September 6 two ships, L'Heureux and La Princesse, appeared at
Lochnanuagh. Old Borodale and his two sons immediately fled
to the hills, leaving a faithful servant to find out and report to them
who the strangers might be. After nightfall, twelve French officers
came to the hut where they were hiding and told their errand.
Information was at once sent to Glenaladale, who undertook to go
to Auchnacarry and send on the news through Cameron of Clunes,
he himself not knowing where the Prince was hiding. Any delay,


PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS 103
even of a few hours, might be fatal, as the presence of the French
ships must sooner or later become known to the authorities at Fort
Augustus. To his dismay Glenaladale failed to find Chmes, and
only by an accident met with an old woman, who directed him to
the place where the latter was hiding. A messenger was at once
despatched, and he, happening by a curious chance to meet with
Cluny and Dr. Cameron on a dark night in Badenoch, gave them
his message, and an express was at once sent to the Cage. On
September 13, at one in the morning, the party—which now
included Cluny, Lochiel, Macpherson of Breakachie, and some
others of the Prince's more important followers—set off for the
coast. They travelled by night, remaining in concealment by day,

but so lonely was the country, so recklessly high were the Prince's
spirits, that one whole day he amused himself by flinging up caps
into the air and shooting at them.
Again he passed through the well-known country round Loch
Arkaig, past Auclmacarry, the home of the Lochiels, which was lying
in ruins, over the rugged hills where he had been hunted like a
wild creature a few weeks before, down to the familiar waters of
Loclmanuagh, back to the warm-hearted household of Borodale.
A considerable number of Jacobite gentlemen who had lain for
months in hiding had been drawn to Loclmanuagh by the report
of the landing of the French ships; amongst these were young
Clanranald, Glenaladale, and Macdonald of Daleby. On the
Prince's ship there sailed with him Lochgarry, Jolm Boy Stuart, Dr.


104 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WANDERINGS
Cameron, and Lochiel. 1 The gentlemen as well as commons were
seen to weep, though they boasted of being soon back with an
irresistible force,' says the newspaper of the day. For the greater
part they never came back, never saw again the homes they loved
so well. Most were to spend a life of hope deferred and of desperate
longings for home, as dependents on a foreign Court. Dr. Cameron
was ten years later taken prisoner in London and executed, the
last man who suffered as a rebel; Lochiel died two years after he
left Scotland, a heart-broken exile. 'Weep ye not for the dead,
neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away,
for he shall return no more nor see his native country.'1
1 The authorities are Chambers's Jacobite Memoirs, selected from the MS. Lyon in
Mourning; Chambers's History of the Rising of 1745 ; Macdonald of Glenaladale's manu-
script, published in Blackwood's Magazine; Ewald's History of Prince Charles Edward,
and the contemporary pamphlets anonymously published by Dr. Burton on information
derived from Bishop Forbes, who collected it at first hand. Fastened on the interior of
the cover of the Lyon in Mourning is a shred of the flowered calico worn by the Prince
in disguise.


105
TWO GREATMATCHES
The University matches, between the elevens of Oxford and Cam-
bridge, are the most exciting that are played at Lord's. The
elevens have been so equal that neither University is ever more
than one or two victories ahead of its opponent. The players are
at their best for activity and strength, and the fielding is usually
the finest that can anywhere be seen. But, of all University
matches, the most famous are those of 1870 and of 1875, for these
were the most closely contested.
In 1870 Cambridge had won for three years running. They
had on their side Mr. Yardley, one among the three best gen-
tlemen bats who ever played, the others being Dr. Grace and Mr.
Alan Steel. In 1869, when Cambridge won by 58 runs, Mr. Yardley
had only made 19 and 0. Mr. Dale and Mr. Money were the other
pillars of Cambridge batting: they had Mr. Thornton too, the hardest
of hitters, who hit over the pavilion (with a bat which did not
drive !) when he played for Eton against Harrow. On the Oxford
side were Mr. Tylecote (E. F. S.), a splendid bat, Mr. Ottaway, one
of the most finished bats of his day, and Mr. Pauncefote. The
Oxford team was unlucky in its bowling, as Mr. Butler had strained
his arm. In one University match, Mr. Butler took all ten wickets
in one innings. He was fast, with a high delivery, and wickets
were not so good then as they are now. Mr. Francis was also an
excellent bowler, not so fast as Mr. Butler; and Mr. Belcher, who
bowled with great energy, but did not excel as a bat, was a useful
man. For Cambridge, Mr. Cobden bowled fast, Mr. Ward was an
excellent medium pace bowler, Mr. Money's slows were sometimes
fortunate, and Mr. Bourne bowled slow round. Cambridge went in
first, and only got 147. Mr. Yardley fell for 2, being caught by
Mr. Butler off Mr. Francis, Mr. Scott's 45 was the largest score,
and Mr. Thornton contributed 17, while Mr. Francis and Mr. Belcher
divided the wickets. Oxford was only 28 runs better than Cam-


TWO GREAT MATCHES
107
Mr. Francis, with one hand over the ropes. He got 67; there was
but one other double figure, Mr. Thornton's 11.
Oxford had to make 178 to win, and 178 is never easy to get,
especially in a University match, where so much depends on it,
and men are often nervous, as you shall see. Mr. Hadow came to
grief, but Mr. Ottaway and Mr. Fortescue were not nervous bats.
Mr. Ward bowled beautifully, but they got 44 and 69; it was 72
for one wicket, and Oxford were buoyant. At 86, however, the
second wicket fell, and E. F. S. joined Mr. Ottaway. He put
on 29, and Ottaway's defence was like a stone wall. Finally
Mr. Ward bowled Mr. Tylecote; 25 to get and seven wickets to
get them. It seemed all over but shouting. Another wicket fell
for 1; 24 to get, and six wickets to fall. Mr. Hill came in, and
played like a printed book, while Mr. Ottaway was always
there. He played a ball to short leg, and Mr. Fryer held it so low
down that Mr. Ottaway appealed. I dare say Oxford men in the
pavilion distinctly saw that ball touch the ground, but the umpire
did not; 17 to get, and four wickets to fall; but the last two
wickets had scored exactly nothing in the first innings. But Mr.
Francis could bat, and he stayed while Mr. Hill made 12, when he
was 1. b. w. to Ward, for a single. Four runs to get, and three
wickets to fall!' Mr. Charles Marsham's face wore a look that his
friends know well.' Mr. Butler came in; he scored well in the
first innings, and he could hit. Then came a bye. Four to get and
three wickets to fall. Mr. Hill hit the next square, good for a 4,
but Mr. Bourne got at it, and only a single was run. Three to get
and three wickets to fall. We did not get them! Mr. Cobden,
who had not done much, took the ball. Mr. Hill made a single to
cover point. The next ball, to Mr. Butler, was well up on the off
stump. Mr. Butler drove at it, Mr. Bourne caught it, and Mr.
Belcher walked in, 'rather pale,' says Mr. Lyttelton, and if so, it
was unusual. Mr. Belcher was of a ruddy countenance. He was
yorked! he took a yorker for a half volley. Let us pity Mr.
Stewart. If he could escape that one ball, the odds were that Mr.
Hill would make the runs next over. Mr. Pauncefote had told Mr.
Stewart to keep his bat immovable in the block-hole, but—he did
not. Cobden scattered his balls to the breezes, 'and smash went
Mr. Charles Marsham's umbrella against the pavilion brickwork.'
Cambridge had won by two.
This is called Cobden's year, and will be so called while cricket


108
TWO GREAT MATCHES
is played. But, in fact, Mr. Ward had taken six wickets for 29,
and these were all the best bats.
Mr. Butler's revenge came next year. He took fifteen wickets,
and made the winning hit. Oxford's revenge came in .1875. In
1874 Cambridge was terribly beaten. They went in on a good
wicket. Mr. Tabor, first man in, got 52, when a shower came. The
first ball after the shower, Mr. Tabor hit at a dropping ball of Mr.
Lang's, and was bowled. The whole side were then demolished by
Mr. Lang and Mr. Ridley, for 109, and 64 second innings, while
Oxford got 265 first innings. In 1876 Oxford had Mr. Webbe, an
admirable bat, as he is still; Mr. Lang, who had been known to
score ; Mr. Bidley, a cricketer of the first class; Mr. Royle, the finest
field, with Mr. Jardine, ever seen; Mr. Game, who had not quite
come into his powers as a hitter, and Mr. Grey Tylecote, a good all-
round man; also Mr. Pulman, a sterling cricketer, and Mr. Buckland,
a very useful player all round. Cambridge had Mr. George Longman,
who could play anything but Mr. Ridley's slows; Mr. Edward
Lyttelton, one of the prettiest and most spirited bats in the world;
Mr. A. P. Lucas, whom it were superfluous to praise; Mr. Sims, a
hard hitter; Mr. W. J. Patterson, a renowned bat, and others. In
bowling, Oxford had Mr. Ridley, whose slows were rather fast and
near the ground. Being as tall as Mr. Spofforth, and following his
ball far up the pitch, Mr. Ridley was alarming to the nervous
batsman. He fielded his own bowling beautifully. Mr. Lang was
a slow round-arm bowler with a very high delivery, and a valuable
twist from either side. Mr. Buckland was afterwards better known
as a bowler; Mr. Royle could also deliver a dangerous ball; the fast
bowler was Mr. Foord Kelcey, but he, again, was lame, through an
accident to his foot. For Cambridge Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Sims
bowled. Lang and Webbe went to the wicket for Oxford, and made
a masterly stand, the ball being cut and driven to the ropes in all
directions. Mr. Webbe got 55, Mr. Lang M, while Mr. Ridley con-
tributed 21, Mr. Pulman 25, and Mr. Buckland 22. The whole
score was 200, 86 for the first wicket. Mr. Longman's 40 was the
best score for Cambridge, and Mr. Edward Lyttelton got 23; total
163. Mr. Lang got five wickets for 35, Mr. Ridley, Mr. Buckland,
and Mr. Foord Kelcey divided the other four. In the second
Oxford innings Mr. Sharpe got six wickets for 66, and the whole
score was but 137, in which Mr. Pulman's 30 was very useful ; Mr.
Boyle, Mr. Game, and Mr. Webbe got 21, 22, and 21, and Mr. Grey
Tylecote, not out, contributed an invaluable 12. The tail of the








TWO GREAT MATCHES
111
Cambridge side made 14 among them in the first innings, not
an assortment of duck's eggs. Cambridge went in, with 175 to get,
much like Oxford in 1870. An over was bowled before seven
o'clock, and resulted in a four to leg. Sharpe and Hamilton, who
went in last, first innings, went in first in the second, to avoid losing
a good bat in the five minutes before drawing stumps. One doubts
if it was worth Mr. Ridley's while to insist on that one over, but
such is the letter of the law. The two victims, in any case, played
rarely, Mr. Sharpe making 29 and Mr. Hamilton 11. Mr. Lucas,
however, was bowled by Mr. Buckland for 5. Two for 26. Mr.
Longman came in and drove off Mr. Lang and Mr. Ridley. Mr.
Boyle then took the ball, a fast change-bowler. He bowled three
maidens, and then settled Mr. Sharpe (at 65), Mr. Blacker (at 67),
and Mr. Longman at 76 (for 23), with a fine breaking shooter such
as you seldom see now. Twenty years ago a large percentage of
balls shot dead. Mr. Greenfield and Mr. Edward Lyttelton stuck
together.
At 97, an awful yell went up; mid-on had missed Mr. Lyttelton,
a low hard catch, but one which he would have taken nine times
in ten. At 101, Mr. Campbell caught Mr. Greenfield off Mr. Royle,
six down and 70 to get. Then Mr. Sims came in, and another
yell was heard. Mid-on had given Mr. Lyttelton another let-off, an
easy thing he might have held in his mouth. Mid-on wished that the
earth would open and swallow him. Presently Mr. Lyttelton hit
Mr. Buckland a beautiful skimming smack to square leg. Mr.
Webbe was standing deeper, but, running at full speed along the
ropes, sideways to the catch, he held it low down—a repetition of
what he did unto Mr. Lyttelton when they played for Harrow and
Eton. Mr. Lyttelton had scored 20, but not in his best manner.
There were now three wickets to fall for 60; Oxford seemed to
have the advantage. Sims and Patterson had added 14 (40 to win),
when a heavy shower came down, lasted for an hour and a half,
and left Oxford with a wet ball and a slippery ground. The rain,
which favoured Oxford in 1874, when Cambridge collapsed, was
now on the Cambridge side. Mr. Sims was determined to knock the
runs off by a forcing game, and these were the right tactics. Then
Eidley went on, and his first slow bowled Mr. Patterson clean. Mr.
Macan came in, and got a single (13 to win). Then Mr. Sims hit
Mr. Ridley over his head to the ropes for 4 (9 to win). Mr. Lang
went on for Mr. Royle, a leg bye followed, and then a no-ball (7 to
win). Mr. Lang then, in a moment of despair, as unusual measures


112
TWO GREAT MATCHES
were needed, bowled a full pitch right at Mr. Sims's head. Mr. Sims,
naturally concluding that two, more hits would finish the match,
hit at it as hard as he could. Mr. Pulman was standing by the ropes
'in the country' and the ball soared towards him; would it cross
the ropes? would Pulman reach it; he had a long way to run?
He reached it, he held it, and back went Mr. Sims. There remained
Mr. Smith, in the same historical position as Mr. Belcher. There
were six runs to get, and Mr. Macan, his companion, a good bat, was
not yet settled. Some one in the pavilion said,'His legs are trembling,
Oxford wins.' Mr. Smith, unlike Mr. Belcher, stopped two of Mr.
Ridley's slows, but not with enthusiasm. To the third he played
slowly forward, the ball hit the middle stump, and Oxford won by
six runs.
There was also a very good match in 1891. Cambridge was far
the better team, and went in, second innings, for a small score. But
Mr. Berkeley (left-hand medium) bowled so admirably that there
were only two wickets to fall for the last run. Mr. Woods, how-
ever, was not nervous, and hit the first ball he received for 4 to
the ropes. Still, I am inclined to think that, in these three matches,
the bowling of Mr. Berkeley was the best, for he had very little
encouragement, whereas, with 178 or so to get, a bowler has a
good chance, and is on his mettle.
The moral is, don't poke about in your block-hole, but hit, and,
when you bowl in an emergency, aim at getting wickets by any
means, rather than at keeping down runs.


113
THE STORY OF KASPARHAUSER
ON May 28, 1828, the town of Nuremberg, in Bavaria, presented
a singularly deserted appearance, as it was Whit-Monday, and
most of the inhabitants were spending their holiday in the country.
A cobbler, who lived in Umschlitt Square, was an exception to the
general rule, but towards four o'clock he, too, thought that he would
take a stroll cutside the city walls. When he came out of his door
his curiosity was excited by a strange figure, which was leaning, as

C. K.
if unable to support itself, against a wall near, and uttering a
moaning sound. The figure was that of a young man of about
seventeen, dressed in a grey riding suit, and wearing a pair of
dilapidated boots; he held a letter in one hand.
The cobbler's curiosity led him to approach the strange figure,
which moaned some incoherent sounds, and held out the letter
in its hand. This was addressed ' To the Captain of the 4th
i


114
THE STORY OF KASPAR HAUSER
squadron of the 6th regiment of dragoons now stationed at Nurem-
berg ' ; and, as he lived quite near, the cobbler thought the surest
way of gratifying his own curiosity was to take the stranger
there. The poor creature stumbled and shuffled along behind his
guide, and reached the captain's house quite worn out. The
captain was not at home, but his servant, pitying the sufferings of
the stranger, gave him a sack of straw to lie on in the stable, and
brought him some bread and meat and beer. The meat and the beer
he would not touch, but ate the bread greedily and drank some
water; he then fell fast asleep. Towards eight o'clock the captain
came home, and was told of his strange visitor, and of the letter he
had brought with him. This letter was written in a feigned hand,
and said that the writer, a poor labourer with ten children, had
received the boy in 1812, and had kept him shut up in his house for
sixteen years, not allowing him to see or know anything; that he
could keep him no longer, and so sent him to the captain, who
could make a soldier of him, hang him, or put him up the chimney,
just as he chose. He added that the boy knew nothing and could
tell nothing, but was quick at learning. Enclosed was a letter
giving the date of the boy's birth (April 30, 1812), and purporting
to be written by the mother; but the writing, paper, and ink all
showed that the two letters were by the same person.
The captain could make nothing of this mysterious letter, but
went to the stable, where he found the stranger still asleep. After
many pushes, kicks, and thumps he awoke. When asked his
name and where he came from, he made some sounds, which were
at last understood to be, ' Want to be a soldier, as father was;'
'Don't know,' and 'Horse home.' These sentences he repeated
over and over again like a parrot, and at last the captain decided
to send his new recruit to the police office. Here he was asked his
name, where he came from, &c, &c, but the result of the police
inspector's questioning was the same: the stranger repeated his
three sentences, and at last, in despair of getting any sensible reply
from him, he was put into a cell in the west tower of the prison
where vagrants were kept. This cell he shared with another
prisoner, a butcher boy, who was ordered to watch him carefully, as
the police naturally suspected him of being an impostor. He slept
soundly through the night and woke at sunrise. He spent the
greater part of the day sitting on the floor taking no notice of
anything, but at last the gaoler gave him a sheet of paper and a
pencil to play with. These he seized with pleasure and carried


THE STORY OF KASPAR HAUSER 115
them off to a seat; nor did he stop writing until he had covered
the paper with letters and syllables, arranged just as they would be
in a copy-book. Among the letters were three complete words,
'Kaspar Hauser,' and ' reiter' (horse soldier). 'Kaspar Hauser'

was evidently his name, though he did not recognise it when called
by it.
The news of the strange arrival spread through the city. The
guard-house, where he spent part of the day, was thronged by a
curious crowd, anxious to see this strange creature, who looked at
12


116
THE STORY OF KASPARHAUSER
things without seeing them, who could not bear a strong light, jvho
loathed any food but bread and water, and who, parrot-like, repeated
a couple of phrases which he evidently did not understand, and one
word, ' horse,' to which he seemed to attach some meaning. What
they saw was a youth of about seventeen, with fair hair and blue
eyes, the lower part of his face slightly projecting like a monkey's.
He was four feet nine inches in height, broad-shouldered, with tiny
hands and delicate little feet, which had never worn shoes nor been
put to their natural use, for the soles were as soft as a baby's. He
was dressed in grey riding-breeches, a round jacket, which had
been made out of a frock-coat by cutting off the skirts, and wore a
round felt hat bound with red leather. In his pockets were some
rags, some tracts, a rosary, and a paper of gold sand.
Everyone who saw him and watched him came to the same
conclusion, that his mind was that of a child of two or three, while
his body was nearly grown up; and yet he was not half-witted,
because he immediately began to pick up words and phrases, had a
wonderful memory, and never forgot a face he had once seen, or the
name which belonged to it. During the next two or three weeks
he spent part of every day in the guard-room; part with the family
of the gaoler, whose children taught him to talk and to walk as
they did their own baby sister. He was not afraid of anything;
swords were whirled round his head without his paying any atten-
tion to them; he stretched out his hand to the flame of a lighted
candle, and cried when it burnt him, and when he saw his face in a
looking-glass, looked behind it for the other person. He was
particularly pleased when anything bright or glittering was given to
him. Whenever this happened he called out 'Horse, horse,' and
made signs as if he wanted to hang it on to the neck of something.
At last one of the policemen gave him a wooden horse, when his
happiness was complete, and he spent hours sitting on the floor
playing with this horse and the dozens of horses which were given
to him by his visitors as soon as they heard of his liking for them.
Six or seven weeks passed in this way, and all this time the town
council were discussing what they would do with him. At last
they decided to adopt him as the 'Child of Nuremberg,' and to
have him properly cared for and taught, so that, if possible, some-
thing of his past might be learned. He was taken away from the
prison and put under the charge of Professor Daumer, whose
interest in the youth led him to undertake the difficult task of
developing his mind so that it might fit his body. The burgomaster


THE STORY OF KASPARHAUSEB 117
issued a notice to the inhabitants that in future they would not be
allowed to see Kaspar Hauser at all hours of the day, and that the
police had orders to interfere if the curiosity of visitors led them to
annoy Dr. Daumer and his household. He entered Dr. Daumer's
house on July 18, 1828, and during the next five months made
such astonishing progress that the delight of his teacher knew no
bounds. In order to satisfy public curiosity the burgomaster pub-
lished, in July, a short account of Hauser's previous life, gleaned
from him by careful questioning. It was to this effect:—
'He neither knows who he is nor where he came from, for it was
only at Nuremberg that he came into the world. He always lived
in a hole, where he sat on straw on the ground; he never heard a
sound, nor saw any vivid light. He awoke and he slept, and
awoke again; when he awoke he found a loaf of bread and a pitcher
of water beside him. Sometimes the water tasted nasty and then he
fell asleep again, and when he woke up found he had a clean shirt on;
he never saw the face of the man who came to him. He had two
wooden horses and some ribbons to play with; was never ill, never
unhappy in his hole; once only the man struck him with a stick for
making too much noise with his horses. One day the man came
into his room and put a table over his feet; something white lay on
the table, and on this the man made black marks with a pencil
which he put into his fingers. This the man did several times, and
when he was gone Kaspar imitated what he had done. At last he
taught him to stand and to walk, and finally carried him out of his
hole. Of what happened next Kaspar had no very clear idea, until
he found himself in Nuremberg with the letter in his hand.'
At first sight this story seems quite impossible, but it is borne
out by two or three things. Kaspar's legs were deformed in just
such a way as would happen in the case of a person who had spent
years sitting on the ground; he never walked properly to the end,
and had great difficulty in getting upstairs. His feet showed no
signs of use, except the blisters made by his boots and his walk to
Nuremberg; he could see in the dark easily and disliked light; and
finally, for several months after he came to Nuremberg, he refused
to eat anything but bread and water, and was, in fact, made quite
ill by the smell of meat, beer, wine, or milk.
For the first four months of his stay with Daumer, his senses of
sight, taste, hearing, and smell were very acute. He had got past
the stage in which he disliked light, and could now see much further
than most people by day, without, however, losing his power of


118 THE STORY OF KASPARHAUSER
seeing in the dark; at the same time he could not distinguish
between a thing and a picture of that thing, and could not for a
long time judge distances at all, for he saw everything flat. His
favourite colours were red and yellow; black and green he particu-
larly disliked ; everything ugly was called green. He could not be
persuaded that a ball did not roll because it wished to do so, or that
his top did not spin of its own accord. For a long time he saw no
reason why animals should not behave like human beings, and was
much annoyed because the cat refused to sit up at table and to eat
with its paws, blaming its disobedience in not doing as it was told.
He further thought that a cow which had lain down in the road
would do well to go home to bed if it were tired. His sense of
smell was very keen, painfully so, in fact, for he was made quite ill
by the smell of the dye in his clothes, the smell of paper, and of
many other things which other people do not notice at all; while
the smell of a sweep a hundred yards off on the other side of the
road upset him for a week. On the other hand, he could distinguish
the leaves of trees by their smell.
By November he had made sufficient progress to make it pos-
sible for Dr. Daumer to teach him other things besides the use of
his senses: he was encouraged to write letters and essays, to use
his hands in every way, to draw, to make paper-models, to dig in
the garden, where he had a little plot of ground with his name in
mustard and cress; in fact, to use his lately acquired knowledge.
The great difficulty was to persuade him to eat anything but bread
and water, but by slow degrees he learned to eat different forms of
farinaceous food, gruel, bread and milk, rice, &C., into which a little
gravy and meat was gradually introduced. By the following May
he could eat meat without being made ill by it, but never drank
anything but water, except at breakfast, when he had chocolate.
For the next eleven months he lived a happy, simple life with
his friend and tutor, who mentions, however, that the intense
acuteness of his senses was gradually passing away, but that he
had still the charming, obedient, child-like nature which had won
all hearts. In the summer, public interest was aroused by the
news that Kaspar Hauser was writing his life, and the paper was
eagerly looked forward to. All went well until October 17, when
Kaspar was discovered senseless in a cellar under Dr. Daumer's
house, with a wound in his forehead. He was carried upstairs
and put to bed, when he kept on moaning, 'Man! man!—tell
mother (Mrs. Daumer)—tell professor—man beat me—black sweep.'


120 THE STORY OF KASPAR HAUSER
and closely questioned as to everything he did, took refuge in false-
hood. At last a government clerkship of the lowest class was pro-
cured for him, but great complaints were made of his inattention to
his duties (mainly copying); he was unhappy, and, when on a visit
to Nuremberg in the summer, made plans for the happy time when
he should be able to come back and live with his friends there.
For the people of Ausbach, though making him one of the shows of
the place, do not seem to have had that perfect belief in him shown
by his earlier friends; while his new guardians expected a great deal
too much from him. His chief friend in Ausbach was the clergyman
who had prepared him for confirmation, who noticed, in November
1833, that he was very much depressed; but this passed away.
On the afternoon of December 14, Kaspar came to call on the
clergyman's wife, and was particularly happy and bright. Three
hours afterwards he staggered into his tutor's house, holding his
hand to his side, gasping out ' Garden—man—stabbed—give purse
—let it drop—come—' and dragged the astonished Dr. Mayer
off to a public garden, where a little purse was found on the ground.
In it was a piece of paper, on which was written backwards in
pencil these lines: 'I come from the Bavarian frontier. I will
even tell you my name, " M. L. O."'
Kaspar was taken home and put to bed, when it was discovered
that there was a deep stab in his left side. For some hours he was
too ill to be questioned, but on the 15th he was able to tell
his story. On the 14th, as he was coming out of the government
buildings to go home to dinner, he was accosted by a man who
promised to tell him who his parents were, if he would come to a
spot in the public gardens. He refused, as he was going home to
dinner, but made an appointment for that afternoon. After dinner
he called on the clergyman's wife, and then went to the gardens,
where he found the man waiting for him. The man led him to the
Uz monument, which was at a little distance from the main path,
and shut in by trees. Here he made him take a solemn oath of
secrecy and handed him the little purse, which Kaspar, in his hurry
to seize it, let drop. As he stooped to pick it up he was stabbed,
and when he lifted himself up the stranger was gone. Then he ran
home.
For two days he was not supposed to be in any danger, but fever
set inthe doctors gave no hope of his recovery, and on the 17th he
died.
His death caused great excitement, not only in Ausbach and


122
AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
NEARLY four hundred years ago, a boy was born in Italy who
grew up to be one of the most accomplished artists of his own
or any other age. Besides excelling as a sculptor, modeller, and
medallist, he was a musician, an author, and an admirable swords-
man; and popes, kings, and other great princes eagerly employed
him, and vied with each other to secure his services. His name was
Benvenuto Cellini.
Under Pope Clement VII. he took part in the defence of the
Castle of St. Angelo, when it was besieged by the Constable de
Bourbon, and the Pope reposed such confidence in Cellini that he
was entrusted with the task of removing all the gems in the treasury
from their settings, and concealing the stones in the thick folds of
his clothing. However, I am not going to enlarge on Benvenuto's
many talents, but to tell you of a wonderful adventure which befell
him in the very Castle of St. Angelo he had helped to defend.
Those were lawless days, and Cellini was a man of fiery temper, to whom blows came more naturally than patience and forbearance.
So it came to pass that, being told that a certain goldsmith named
Pompeo had been spreading false reports about him, Benvenuto
fell upon him one fine day in the very midst of Rome, and promptly
stabbed him to death.
This might possibly have been overlooked, but a workman,
jealous of Cellini's success and reputation, accused the artist to the
reigning Pope, Paul III., of having purloined some of the jewels
entrusted to his care during the siege, and Paul was not to be trifled
with where the affairs of the treasury were concerned. Moreover,
a near relation of the Pope's was Cellini's sworn enemy, and this
sufficed to seal his fate.
So, when taking a walk one morning, Benvenuto suddenly found
himself face to face with Crespino, the sheriff, attended by his band


AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
128
of constables. Crespino advanced, saying, 'You are the Pope's
prisoner.'
'Crespino,' exclaimed Benvenuto, ' You must take me for some
one else.'
'No, no,' replied Crespino,'I know you perfectly, Benvenuto, and
I have orders to carry you to the Castle of St. Angelo, where great
nobles and men of talent like yourself are sent.'
Then he politely begged Benvenuto to give up his sword, and led
him off to the Castle, where he was locked up in a room above the
keep.
It was easy enough for Benvenuto to refute the accusations
brought against him; nevertheless he was kept prisoner, in spite
of the intervention of the French ambassador, who demanded his
liberty in the name of Francis I.
The governor of the Castle was, like Cellini, a Florentine, and at
first showed himself full of kind attentions towards his countryman,
allowing him a certain amount of liberty on parole, within the
Castle walls. Growing suspicious later, he kept his prisoner closer,
but after a time he restored him to comparative liberty.
When Benvenuto found how changeable the governor's humour
was, he set himself to think over matters seriously. 'For,' he
reflected, 'should a fresh fit of anger or suspicion cause him to
confine me more strictly, I should feel myself released from my word,
and it may be as well to be prepared.'
Accordingly he ordered some new coarse linen sheets to be
brought him, but when soiled he did not send them back. When
his servants asked for the sheets so as to have them washed he bade
them say no more, as he had given them to one of the poor soldiers
on guard, who would be sure to get into trouble if the matter were
known. By degrees he emptied the straw out of his mattress,
burning a little of it at a time in his fireplace, and replacing it with
the sheets, which he cut into strips some inches wide. As soon as
he thought these strips were long enough for his purpose, he told
his servants that he had given all the sheets away, and that in
future they had better bring him finer linen, which he would be sure
to return.
Now it so happened that every year the governor was subject to
a most distressing illness, which, for the time being, entirely deprived
him of his reason. When it began to come on, he would talk and
chatter incessantly. Each year he had some fresh hallucination, at
one time fancying himself an oil-jar, at another a frog, and skipping


124
AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
about like one. Again, another time, he declared he was dead,
and wished to be buried; and so, year by year, he was the victim
of some new delusion. This year he imagined he was a bat, and as
he walked about he uttered little half-smothered cries like a bat,
and flapped his hands and moved his body as though about to fly.
His faithful old servants and his doctors noticed this, and, thinking
change of ideas and variety of conversation might do him good,
they frequently fetched Benvenuto to entertain him.
One day the governor asked Benvenuto whether it had ever
occurred to him to desire to fly, and, on being answered in the affir-
mative, he inquired further how he should set about it.
Benvenuto replied that the only flying creature it would be at
all possible to imitate artificially was the bat, on which the poor
man cried out, ' True, true, that's it, that's the thing.' Then turn-
ing round he said, ' Benvenuto, if you had everything you required
for it, do you think you could fly?'
'Oh, yes,' said the artist; ' if you will only leave me free to do it,
I will engage to make a pair of wings of fine waxed cloth, and to fly
from here to Prati with them.'
'And I, too,' exclaimed the governor; 'I could do it too, but the
Pope has ordered me to keep you like the apple of his eye, and as I
strongly suspect you're a cunning fellow, I shall lock you well up
and give you no chance of flying.'
Thereupon, and in spite of all Benvenuto's entreaties and pro-
testations, the governor ordered him to be taken back to prison and
more carefully guarded than ever.
Seeing he could not help himself, Cellini exclaimed before the
officers and attendants: 'Very well! lock me up and keep me safe,
for I give you due warning I mean to escape in spite of every-
thing.'
No sooner was he shut up in his cell than he fell to turning over
in his mind how this escape could be made, and began minutely
examining his prison, and, after discovering what he thought would
be a sure way of getting out, he considered how best he might let
himself down from the top of this enormous donjon tower, which
went by the name of 'II Mastio.' He began by measuring the
length of the linen strips, which he had cut and joined firmly to-
gether so as to form a sort of rope, and he thought there would be
enough for his purpose. Next, he armed himself with a pair of pincers
which he had taken from one of his guards who was fond of car-
pentering, and who, amongst his tools, had a particularly large and


AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
125
strong pair of pincers, which appeared so useful to Benvenuto that
he abstracted them, and hid them in his mattress.
As soon as he thought himself safe from interruption, he began
to feel about for the nails in the ironwork of the door, but owing to
its immense thickness they were by no means easy to get at. How-
ever, he managed at length to extract the first nail. Then came
the question, how to conceal the hole left behind. This he con-
trived by making a paste of rusty scrapings and wax, which he
modelled into an exact representation of the head of a nail, and in
this way he replaced each nail he drew by a facsimile of its head
in wax.
Great care was required to leave just a sufficient number of
nails to keep the ironwork and hinges in their places. But
Benvenuto managed this by first drawing the nails, cutting them as
short as he dared, and then replacing them in such a way as to
keep things together, and yet to allow of their being easily drawn
out at the last moment.
All this was by no means easy to contrive, for the governor was
constantly sending some one to make sure that his prisoner was safe.
The two men who were specially charged with this duty were
rough and rude, and one of them in particular took pains to inspect
the whole room carefully every evening, paying special attention to
the locks and hinges.
Cellini lived in constant terror lest it should occur to them to
examine his bedding, where, besides the pincers, he had hidden a
long sharp dagger and some other instruments, as well as his long
strips of linen. Each morning he swept out and dusted his room
and carefully made his bed, ornamenting it with flowers which he
got the soldier from whom he had taken the pincers to bring him.
When his two warders appeared he desired them on no account to
go near or touch his bed, for fear of soiling or disturbing it. Some-
times, in order to tease him, they would touch it, and then he
would shout: 'Ah! you dirty rascals! Just let me get at one of
your swords and see how I'll punish you! How dare you touch
the bed of such a man as I am? Little care I about risking my
own life, for I should be certain to take yours. Leave me in peace
with my grief and trouble, or I will show you what a man can do
when driven to desperation!'
These words were repeated to the governor, who forbade the
gaolers touching Cellini's bed, or entering his room armed. The
bed once safe, he felt as if all else must go right.


126
AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
One night the governor had a worse attack than ever, and in a
fit of madness kept repeating that he certainly was a bat, and that,
should they hear of N escape, they must let him fly off
too, as he was sure he could fly better at night and would overtake
the fugitive. 'Benvenuto,' said he, 'is but a sham bat, but as I
am a real bat, and he has been given into my keeping, I shall soon
catch him again, depend on it.'
This bad attack lasted several nights, and the Savoyard soldier,
who took an interest in Benvenuto, reported to him that the
servants were quite worn out watching their sick master. Hearing
this, Cellini resolved to attempt his escape at once, and set hard to
work to complete his preparations. He worked all night, and about
two hours before dawn he, with much care and trouble, removed the
hinges from the door. The casing and bolts prevented his opening it
wide, so he chipped away the woodwork, till at length he was able
to slip through, taking with him his linen ropes, which he had
wound on two pieces of wood like two great reels of thread.
Having passed the door he turned to the right of the tower, and
having removed a couple of tiles, he easily got out on the roof. He
wore a white doublet and breeches and white boots, into one of
which he had slipped his dagger. Taking one end of his linen rope,
he now proceeded to hook it carefully over an antique piece of tile
which was firmly cemented into the wall. This tile projected
barely four fingers' breadth, and the band hooked over it as on a
stirrup. When he had made it firm he prayed thus: 'O Lord, my
God, come now to my aid, for Thou knowest that my cause is
righteous, and that I am aiding myself.' Then he gently let him-
self slide down the rope till he reached the ground. There was no
moon, but the sky was clear, and once down he gazed up at the
tower from which he had made so bold a descent, and went off in
high spirits, thinking himself at liberty, which indeed was by no
means the case.
On this side of the Castle the governor had had two high walls
built to inclose his stables and his poultry-yard, and these walls had
gates securely bolted and barred on the outside.
In despair at these obstacles Benvenuto roamed about at random,
cursing his bad luck, when suddenly he hit his foot against a long
pole which lay hidden in the straw. With a good deal of effort he
managed to raise it against the wall and to scramble up to the top.
Here he found a sharply sloping coping stone which made it im-
possible to draw the pole up after him, but he fastened a portion of



BE PREPARED TO ATTACK THE SENTRY





AN ARTIST'SADVENTURE
129
the second linen band to it, and by this means let himself down as
he had done outside the donjon tower.
By this time Benvenuto was much exhausted, and his hands
were all cut and bleeding; however, after a short rest he climbed
the last inclosure, and was just in the act of fastening his rope to a
battlement, when, to his horror, he saw a sentinel close to him.
Desperate at this interruption, and at the thought of the risk he
ran, he prepared to attack the sentry, who, however, seeing a man
advance on him with a drawn dagger and determined air, promptly
took to his heels, and Benvenuto returned to his rope. Another
guard was near, but, hoping not to have been observed, the fugi-
tive secured his band and hastily slid down it. Whether it was
fatigue, or that he thought himself nearer the ground than he really
was, it is impossible to say, but he loosened his hold, and fell,
hitting his head, and lay stretched on the ground for more than an
hour.
The sharp freshness of the air just before sunrise revived him,
but his memory did not return immediately, and he fancied his head
had been cut off and that he was in purgatory. By degrees, as his
senses returned, he realised that he was no longer in the Castle, and
remembered what he had done. He put his hands to his head and
withdrew them covered with blood, but on carefully examining
himself he found he had no serious wound, though on attempting
to move he discovered that his right leg was broken. Nothing
daunted, he drew from his boot his poniard with its sheath, which
had a large ball at the end; the pressure of this ball on the bone
had caused the fracture. He threw away the sheath, and cutting
off a piece of the remaining linen band with his dagger, he bound up
his leg as best he could, and then, dagger in hand, proceeded to
drag himself along on his knees towards the gate of the town. It
was still closed, but seeing one stone near the bottom, which did
not look very huge, he tried to displace it. After repeated efforts it
shook, and at length yielded to his efforts, so, forcing it out, he
squeezed himself through.
He had barely entered Rome when he was attacked by a band
of savage dogs, who bit and worried him cruelly. He fought de-
sperately with his dagger, and gave one dog such a stab that it fled
howling, followed by the rest of the pack, leaving Benvenuto free to
drag himself as best he could towards St. Peter's.
By this time it was broad daylight, and there was much risk of
discovery; so, seeing a water-carrier passing with his train of asses
K


130
AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
laden with jars full of water, Benvermto hailed him and begged he
would carry him as far as the steps of St. Peter's.
'I am a poor fellow,' said he, 'who have broken my leg trying
to get out of the window of a house where I went to see my lady-
love. As the house belongs to a great family, I much fear I shall
be cut to pieces if I am found here; so pray help me off and you
shall have a gold crown for your pains,' and Benvenuto put his
hand to his purse, which was well filled.
The water-carrier readily consented, and carried him to St.
Peter's, where he left him on the steps, from whence Benvenuto
began to crawl towards the palace of Duke Ottavio, whose wife, a
daughter of the emperor's, had brought many of Cellini's friends
from Florence to Rome in her train. She was well disposed to-
wards the great artist, and he felt that beneath her roof he would
be in safety. Unluckily, as he struggled along, he was seen and
recognised by a servant of Cardinal Cornaro's, who had apartments
in the Vatican. The man hurried to his master's room, woke him
up, and cried: 'Most reverend lord, Benvenuto is below; he must
have escaped from the Castle, and is all bleeding and wounded. He
appears to have broken his leg, and we have no idea where he is
going.'
'Run at once,' exclaimed the Cardinal, 'and fetch him here,
to my room.'
When Benvenuto appeared the Cardinal assured him he need
have no fears, and sent off for the first surgeons in Rome to attend
to him. Then he shut him up in a secret room, and went off to try
and obtain his pardon from the Pope.
Meantime a great commotion arose in Rome, for the linen ropes
dangling from the great tower had attracted notice, and all the town
was running out to see the strange sight. At the Vatican Cardinal
Cornaro met a friend, to whom he related all the details of Ben-
venuto's escape, and how he was at that very moment hidden in a
secret chamber. Then they both went to the Pope, who, as they
threw themselves at his feet, cried, ' I know what you want with
me.'
'Holy Father,' said the Cardinal's friend, 'we entreat you to
grant us the life of this poor man. His genius deserves some
consideration, and he has just shown an almost superhuman
amount of courage and dexterity. We do not know what may be
the crimes for which your Holiness has seen fit to imprison him,
but if they are pardonable we implore you to forgive him,' 


AN ARTIST'S ADVENTURE
181
The Pope, looking somewhat abashed, replied that he had im-
prisoned Benvenuto for being too presumptuous; 'however,' he
added, 'I am well aware of his talents and am anxious to keep him
near me, and am resolved to treat him so well that he shall have
no desire to return to France. I am sorry he is ill; bid him recover
quickly, and we will make him forget his past sufferings.'
I am sorry to say the Pope was not so good as his words, for
Benvenuto's enemies plotted against him, and after a time he was
once more shut up in his former prison, from which, however, he
was eventually delivered at the urgent request of the King of France,
who warmly welcomed the great artist to his Court, where he spent
some years in high honour.
K 2


132
THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA AND
BOBKE'S DBIFT
LTHOUGH but fourteen years have
gone by since 1879, perhaps some
people, if they chance to be young,
have forgotten about the Zulus, and
the story of our war with them; so,
before beginning the tale of Isandhl-
wana and Rorke's Drift, it may be
worth while to tell of these matters
in a few words.
The Zulus live in South-Eastern
Africa. Originally they were not
one tribe but many, though the same
blood was in them all. Nobody
knows whence they came or who
were their forefathers; but they
seem to have sprung from an Arab
or Semitic stock, and many of their
customs, such as the annual feast of
the first fruits, resemble those of the
Jews. At the beginning of this century there arose a warrior
king, called Chaka, who gathered up the scattered tribes of the
Zulus as a woodman gathers sticks, and as of the frail brushwood
the woodman makes a stout faggot, that none can break, so of
these tribes Chaka fashioned a nation so powerful that no other
black people could conquer it.
The deeds of Chaka are too many to write of here. Seldom has
there been a monarch, black or white, so terrible or so absolute, and
never perhaps has a man lived more wicked or more clever, out of
'nothing,' as the Kafirs say, he made the Amazulu, or the ' people


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
188
of heaven,' so powerful, that before he died he could send out an
army of a hundred thousand men to destroy those whom he feared
or hated or whose cattle he coveted. These soldiers were never
beaten; if they dared to turn their back upon an enemy, however
numerous, they were killed when the battle was done, so that
soon they learned to choose death with honour before the foe in
preference to death with shame at the hands of the executioner.
Where Chaka's armies went they conquered, till the country was
swept of people for hundreds of miles in every direction. At
length, after he had killed or been the cause of the violent death of
more than a million human beings, in the year 1828 Chaka's own
hour came; for, as the Zulu proverb says, 'the swimmer is at
last borne away by the stream.' He was murdered by the princes
of his house and his body servant Umbopo or Mopo. But as he
lay dying beneath their spear thrusts, it is said that the great
king prophesied of the coming of white men who should conquer
the land that he had won.
'What,' he said, ' do you slay me, my brothers—dogs of mine
own house whom I have fed, thinking to possess the land? I
tell you that I hear the sound of running feet, the feet of a great
white people, and they shall stamp you flat, children of my
father.'
After the death of Chaka his brother Dingaan reigned who had
murdered him. In due course he was murdered also, and his
brother Panda succeeded to the throne. Panda was a man of peace,
and the only one of the four Zulu kings who died a natural death;
for though it is not commonly known, the last of these kings,
our enemy Cetywayo, is believed to have met his end by poison.
In 1873, Cetywayo was crowned king of Zululand in succession to
his father Panda on behalf of the English Government by Sir Theo-
philus Shepstone. He remained a firm friend to the British till Sir
Bartle Frere declared war on him in 1879. Sir Bartle Frere made
war upon the Zulus because he was afraid of their power, and the
Zulus accepted the challenge because we annexed the Trans-
vaal and would not allow them to fight the Boers or the Swazis.
They made a brave resistance, and it was not until there were
nearly as many English soldiers in their country armed with
breech-loading rifles as they had effective warriors left alive in it,
for the most part armed with spears only, that at length we con-
quered them. But their heart was never in the war; they defended
their country against invasion indeed, but by Cetywayo's orders


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
185
find that camp when they returned to it some eighteen hours later,
or that of those sixteen hundred men the great majority would then
be dead!
Meanwhile a Zulu 'impi' or army, numbering about twenty
thousand men, or something more than one-third of King Cetywayo's
entire strength, had moved from the Upindo Hill on the night of
January 21, and taken up its position on a stony plain, a mile and
a half to the east of Isandhlwana. The impi was made up of the
Undi regiment, about three thousand strong, that formed its breast,
or centre, the Nokenke and Umcityu regiments, seven thousand
strong, that formed its right wing or horn, and the Imbonanbi and
Nkobamikosi regiments, ten thousand strong, forming its left horn
or wing. That night the impi slept upon its spears and watched
in silence, lighting no fires. The king had reviewed it three days
previously, and his orders to it were that it should attack number
3 column, and drive it back over the Buffalo, but it had no
intention of giying battle on the 22nd, for the state of the moon was
not propitious, so said the ' doctors'; moreover, the soldiers had not
been 'moutied,' that is, sprinkled with medicines to ' put a great
heart' into them and ensure their victory. The intention of the
generals was to attack the camp at dawn on the 23rd; and the
actual engagement was brought about by an accident.
Before I tell of this or of the fight, however, it may be as well to
describe how these' splendid savages were armed and disciplined.
To begin with, every corps had a particular head-dress and fighting
shields of one colour, just as in our army each regiment has its own
facings on the tunics. These shields are cut from the hides of oxen,
and it is easy to imagine what a splendid sight was presented by a
Zulu impi twenty thousand strong, divided into several regiments,
one with snow-white shields and tall cranes' feathers on their heads,
one with coal-black shields and black plumes, and others with red
and mottled shields, and bands of fur upon their foreheads. In their
war with the English many of the Zulus were armed with muzzle-
loading guns and rifles of the worst description, of which they
could make little use, for few of them were trained to handle fire-
arms. A much more terrible weapon in their hands, and one that
did nearly all the execution at Isandhlwana, was the broad-bladed
short-shafted stabbing assegai. This shape of spear was intro-
duced by the great king Chaka, and if a warrior cast it at an
enemy, or even chanced to lose it in a fight, he was killed when the
fray was over. Before Chaka's day the Zulu tribes used light


136 THE TALE OF ISANbHLWANA
assegais, which they threw at the enemy from a distance, and thus
their ammunition was sometimes spent before they came to close
quarters with the foe.
Among the Zulus every able-bodied man was enrolled in one or
other of the regiments—even the girls and boys were made into
regiments or attached to them, and though these did not fight, they
carried the mats and cooking pots of the army, and drove the cattle
for the soldiers to eat when on the march. Thus it will be seen that
this people differed from any other in the world in modern days,
for whereas even the most courageous and martial of mankind look
upon war as an exceptional state of affairs and an evil only to be
undertaken in self-defence, or perhaps for purposes of revenge and
aggrandisement, the Zulus looked on peace as the exceptional state,
and on warfare as the natural employment of man. Chaka taught
them that lesson, and they had learnt it well, and so it came about
that Cetywayo was forced to allow the army to fight with us when
Sir Bartle Frere gave them an opportunity of doing so, since their
hearts were sick with peace, and for years they had clamoured to be
allowed to 'wash their spears,' saying that they were no longer men,
but had become a people of women. Indeed, had the king not done
so, they would have fought with each other. It is a terrible thing
to be obliged, year after year, to keep quiet an army of some fifty or
sixty thousand men who are too proud to work and clamour daily
to be led to battle that they may die as their fathers died. We may
be sure that the heart of many a Zulu warrior beat high as in dead
silence he marched that night from the heights of Upindo towards
the doomed camp of Isandhlwana, since at last he was to satisfy the
longing of his blood, and fight to the death with a foe whom he
knew to be worthy of him.
Doubtless, also, the hearts of the white men beat high that night
as they gathered round the fires of their camp, little knowing that
thousands of Zulu eyes were watching them from afar, or that the
black rock looming above them was destined to stand like some
great tombstone over their bones for ever. Englishmen also are a
warlike race, and there was honour and advancement to be won,
and it would seem that but few of those who marched into the Zulu
country guessed how formidable was the foe with whom they had
to deal. A horde of half-naked savages armed with spears did not
strike English commanders, imperfectly acquainted with the history
and nature of those savages, as particularly dangerous enemies.
Some there were, indeed, who, having spent their lives in the country,


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA 137
knew what was to be expected, but they were set down as 'croakers,'
and their earnest warnings of disaster to come were disregarded.
Now let us return to the camp. It will be remembered that
Colonel Glyn's force, accompanied by General Lord Chelmsford, had
left at dawn. About eight o'clock a picket placed some 1,500 yards
distant reported that Zulus were approaching from the north-east.
This information was despatched by mounted messengers to Colonel
Glyn's column.
Lieut.-Colonel Durnford, with his mounted natives and a rocket
battery arriving from Rorke's Drift about 10 a.m., took over the
command of the camp from Colonel Pulleine. According to the evi-
dence of Lieutenant Cochrane given at the court of inquiry, Colonel
Pulleine thereupon stated to Colonel Durnford the orders that he
had received, to ' defend the camp,' and it would appear that either
then or subsequently some altercation took place between these
two officers. In the issue, however, Colonel Durnford advanced his
mounted force to ascertain the enemy's movements, and directed a
company of the 1st battalion 24th regiment to occupy a hill about
1,200 yards to the north of the camp.
Other companies of the 24th were stationed at various points
at a distance from the camp. It may be well to explain here, that
to these movements of troops, which, so far as can be ascertained,
were made by the direct orders of Colonel Durnford, must be attri-
buted the terrible disaster that followed. There are two ways of
fighting a savage or undisciplined enemy; the scientific way, such
as is taught in staff colleges, and the unscientific way that is to be
learned in the sterner school of experience. We English were not the
first white men who had to deal with the rush of the Zulu impis. The
Boers had encountered them before, at the battle of the Blood River,
and armed only with muzzle-loading ' roers,' or elephant guns, de-
spite their desperate valour, had worsted them, with fearful slaugh-
ter. But they did not advance bodies of men to this point or to
that, according to the scientific method; they drew their ox waggons
into a square, lashing them together with ' reims ' or hide-ropes, and
from behind this rough defence, with but trifling loss to themselves,
rolled back charge after charge of the warriors of Dingaan.
Had this method been followed by our troops at the battle of
Isandhlwana, who had ample waggons at hand to enable them to
execute the manoeuvre, had the soldiers even been collected in a
square beneath the cliff of the mountain, it cannot be doubted but
that, armed as they were with breech-loaders, they would have been


188
THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
able to drive back not only the impi sent against them, but, if
necessary, the entire Zulu army. Indeed, that this would have
been so is demonstrated by what happened on the same day at
Rorke's Drift, where a hundred and thirty men repelled the desperate
assaults of three or four thousand. Why, then, it may be asked, did
Colonel Durnford, a man of considerable colonial experience, adopt
the more risky, if the more scientific, mode of dealing with the
present danger, and this in spite of Colonel Pulleine's direct intima-
tion to him that his orders were 'to defend the camp '? As it
chances, the writer of this account, who knew Colonel Durnford
well, and has the greatest respect for the memory of that good officer,
and honourable gentleman, is able to suggest an answer to the
problem which at the time was freely offered by the Natal colonists.
A few years before, it happened that Colonel Durnford was engaged
upon some military operations against a rebellious native chief in
Natal. Coming into contact with the followers of this chief, in the
hope that matters might be arranged without bloodshed, Duniford
ordered the white volunteers under his command not to fire, with the
result that the rebels fired, killing several of his force and wounding
him in the arm. This incident gave rise to an irrational indignation
in the colony, and for a while he himself was designated by the un-
generous nickname of 'Don't fire Durnford.' It is alleged, none
can know with what amount of truth, that it was the memory of
this undeserved insult which caused Colonel Durnford to insist
upon advancing the troops under his command to engage the Zulus
in the open, instead of withdrawing them to await attack in the
comparative safety of a 'laager.'
The events following the advance of the various British com-
panies at Isandhlwana are exceedingly difficult to describe in their
proper order, since the evidence of the survivors is confused.
It would appear, however, that Durnford's mounted Basutos
discovered and fired on a portion of the Umcityu regiment, which,
forgetting its orders, sprang up and began to charge. Thereon,
accepting the position, the other Zulu regiments joined the move-
ment. Very rapidly, and with the most perfect order, the impi
adopted the traditional Zulu ox-head formation, namely, that of a
centre and two horns, the centre representing the skull of the ox.
In this order they advanced towards the English camp, slowly
and without sound. Up to this time there had been no particular
alarm in the camp. The day was bright and lovely, with a hot sun
tempered by a gentle breeze that just stirred the tops of the grasses,


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA 139
and many men seem to have been strolling about quite unaware of
their imminent danger, although orders were given to collect the
transport oxen, which were at graze outside the camp; not for the


140 THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
purpose of inspanning the waggons, but to prevent them from being
captured by the enemy. One officer (Captain, now Colonel, Essex)
reports that after the company had been sent out, he retired to his
tent to write letters, till, about twelve o'clock, a sergeant came to tell
him that firing was to be heard behind a hill in face of the camp.
He mounted a horse and rode up the slope, to find the company firing
on a line of Zulus eight hundred paces away to their front. This line
was about a thousand yards long, and shaped like a horn, tapering
towards the point. It advanced slowly, taking shelter with great
skill behind rocks, and opened a quite ineffective fire on the soldiers.
Meanwhile the two guns were shelling the Zulu centre with great
effect, the shells cutting lanes through their dense ranks, which closed
up over the dead in perfect discipline and silence. The attack was
now general, all the impi taking part in it except a reserve regiment
that sat down upon the ground taking snuff, and never came into
action, and the Undi corps, which moved off to the right with the
object of passing round the north side of the Isandhlwana hill.
On came the Zulus in silence, and ever as they came the two
horns crept further and further ahead of the black breast of their array.
Hundreds of them fell beneath the fire of the breech-loaders, but they
did not pause in their attack. Ammunition began to fail the soldiers,
and orders having reached them—too late—to concentrate on the
camp, they retired slowly to that position. Captain Essex also rode
back, and assisted the quartermaster of the 24th to place boxes
of ammunition in a mule cart, till presently the quartermaster was
shot dead at his side. Now the horns or nippers of the foe were
beginning to close on the doomed camp, and the friendly natives, who
knew well what this meant, though as yet the white men had not
understood their danger, began to steal away by twos and threes,
and then, breaking into open rout, they rushed through the camp,
seeking the waggon road to Rorke's Drift.
Then at last the Zulu generals saw that the points of the horns
had met behind the white men, and the moment was ripe. Abandon-
ing its silence and slow advance, the breast of the impi raised the
war-cry and charged, rolling down upon the red coats like a wave
of steel. So swift and sudden was this last charge, that main- of
the soldiers had no time to fix bayonets. For a few moments the
scattered companies held the impi back, and the black stream flowed
round them, then it flowed over them, sweeping them along like
human wreckage. In a minute the defence had become an utter
rout. Some of the defenders formed themselves into groups and


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA 141
fought back to back till they fell where they stood, to be found weeks
afterwards mere huddled heaps of bones. Hundreds of others fled
for the waggon road, to find that the Undi regiment, passing round
the Isandhlwana mountain, had occupied it already. Back they
rolled from the hedge of Undi spears to fall upon the spears of the
attacking regiments. One path of retreat alone remained, a dry
and precipitous ' donga' or watercourse, and into this plunged a
rabble of men, white and black, mules, horses, guns, and waggons.
Meanwhile the last act of the tragedy was being played on the
field of death. With a humming sound such as might be made by
millions of bees, the Zulu swarms fell upon those of the soldiers
who remained alive, and, after a desperate resistance, stabbed them.
Wherever the eye looked, men were falling and spears flashing in
the sunshine, while the ear was filled with groans of the dying and
the savage S'gee S'gee of the Zulu warriors as they passed their
assegais through and through the bodies of the fallen. Many a
deed of valour was done there as white men and black grappled in
the death-struggle, but their bones alone remained to tell the tale
of them. Shortly after the disaster, one of the survivors told the
present writer of a duel which he witnessed between a Zulu and
an officer of the 24th regiment. The officer having emptied his
revolver, set his back against the wheel of a wagon and drew his
sword. Then the Zulu came at him with his shield up, turning
and springing from side to side as he advanced. Presently he
lowered the shield, exposing his head, and the white man falling
into the trap aimed a fierce blow at it. As it fell the shield was
raised again, and the sword sank deep into its edge, remaining
fixed in the tough ox-hide. This was what the Zulu desired; with
a twist of his strong arm he wrenched the sword from his opponent's
hand, and in another instant the unfortunate officer was down with
an assegai through his breast.
In a few minutes it was done, all resistance had been over-
powered, the wounded had been murdered—for the Zulu on the
war-path has no mercy—and the dead mutilated and cut open to
satisfy the horrible native superstition. Then those regiments that
remained upon the field began the work of plunder. Most of the
bodies they stripped naked, clothing themselves in the uniforms
of the dead soldiers. They stabbed the poor oxen that remained
fastened to the ' trek-tows ' of the waggons, and they drank all the
spirits that they could find, some of them, it is said, perishing
through the accidental consumption of the medical stores. Then,


142 THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
when the sun grew low, they retreated, laden with plunder, taking
with them the most of their dead, of whom there are believed to
have been about fifteen hundred, for the Martinis did their work
well, and our soldiers had not died unavenged.
All this while Lord Chelmsford and the division which he
accompanied were in ignorance of what had happened within a few
miles of them, though rumours had reached them that a Zulu force
was threatening the camp. The first to discover the dreadful truth
was Commandant Lonsdale of the Natal Native Contingent. This
officer had been ill, and was returning to camp alone, a fact that
shows how little anything serious was expected. He reached it
about the middle of the afternoon, and there was nothing to reveal
to the casual observer that more than three thousand human
beings had perished there that day. The sun shone on the white
tents and on the ox waggons, around and about which groups of red-
coated men were walking, sitting, and lying. It did not chance to
occur to him that those who were moving were Zulus wearing the
coats of English soldiers, and those lying down, soldiers whom
the Zulus had killed As Commandant Lonsdale rode, a gun was
fired, and he heard a bullet whizz past his head. Looking in the
direction of the sound, he saw a native with a smoking rifle in his
hand, and concluding that it was one of the men under his com-
mand who had discharged his piece accidentally, he took no more
notice of the matter. Forward he rode, till he was within ten
yards of what had been the headquarter tents, when suddenly out
of one of them there stalked a great Zulu, bearing in his hand a
broad assegai from which blood was dripping. Then his intelli-
gence awoke, and he understood. The camp was in the possession
of the enemy, and those who lay here and there upon the grass like
holiday makers in a London park on a Sunday in summer, were
English soldiers indeed, not living but dead.
Turning his horse, Commandant Lonsdale fled as swiftly as
it could carry him. More than a hundred rifle-shots were fired
after him, but the Zulu marksmanship was poor, and he escaped
untouched. A while afterwards, a solitary horseman met Lord
Chelmsford and his staff returning: he saluted, and said, 'The
camp is in the possession of the enemy, sir I' None who heard those
words will forget them, and few men can have experienced a more
terrible shock than that which fell upon the English general in
this hour.


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
143
Slowly, and with all military precaution, Lord Chelmsford and
his force moved onward, till at length, when darkness had fallen,
they encamped beneath the fatal hill of Isandhlwana. Here, mo-
mentarily expecting to be attacked, they remained all night amid
the wreck, the rain, and the dead, but not till the following dawn
did they learn the magnitude of the disaster that had overtaken

our arms. Then they saw, and in silence marched from that fatal
field, heading for Rorke's Drift, and leaving its mutilated dead to
the vulture and the jackal.
Now let us follow the fate of the mob of fugitives, who, driven
back from the waggon road by the Undi, plunged desperately into
the donga near it, the sole avenue of retreat which had not been


144
THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
besieged by the foe, in the hope that they might escape the
slaughter by following the friendly natives who were mixed up
with them. How many entered on that terrible race for life is not
known, but it is certain that very few won through. Indeed, it is
said that, with the exception of some natives, no single man who
was not mounted lived to pass the Buffalo River. For five miles or
more they rode and ran over paths that a goat would have found it
difficult to keep his footing on, while by them, and mixed up with
them, went the destroying Zulus. Very soon the guns became
fixed among the boulders, and one by one the artillerymen were
assegaied. On went the survivors, hopeless yet hoping. Now a
savage sprang on this man, and now on that; the assegai flashed
up, a cry of agony echoed among the rocks, and a corpse fell
heavily to the red earth. Still, those whom it pleased Providence
to protect struggled forward, clinging to their horses' manes as
they leaped from boulder to boulder, till at length they came to
a cliff, beneath which the Buffalo rolled in flood. Down this cliff
they slid and stumbled, few of them can tell how; then, driven
to it by the pitiless spears, they plunged into the raging river.
Many were drowned in its waters, some were shot in the stream,
some were stabbed upon the banks, yet a few, clinging to the manes
and tails of their horses, gained the opposite shore in safety.
Among these were two men whose memory their country will not
willingly let die, who, indeed (it is the first time in our military history),
have been decreed the Victoria Cross although they were already
dead: Lieutenants Coghill and Melvill of the 24th regiment. One
of these, Lieutenant Coghill, the writer of this sketch had the good
fortune to know well. A kindlier-hearted and merrier young English
gentleman never lived. Melvill and Coghill were swept away upon
the tide of flight, down the dreadful path that led to Fugitives' Drift,
but Melvill bore with him the colours of the 24th regiment that
were in his charge as adjutant, not tied round his waist, as has been
reported, but upon the pole to which they were attached. He
arrived in safety at the river, but, owing to the loss of his horse,
was unable to cross it, and took refuge upon a rock in mid-stream,
still holding the colours in his hand. Coghill, whose knee was dis-
abled by an accident and who had reached the Natal bank already,
saw the terrible position of his friend and brother officer, and, though
spears flashed about him and bullets beat the water like hail,
with a courage that has rarely been equalled, he turned his horse
and swam back to his assistance. The worst was over; safety lay


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA 145
before him, there behind him in the river was almost certain death;
but this gallant gentleman heeded none of these things, for there
also were the colours of his regiment and his drowning friend.
Back he swam to the rock through the boiling current. Soon his
horse was shot dead beneath him, yet, though none knows how, the
two of them came safe to shore. The colours were lost indeed, for
they could no longer carry them and live, but these never fell into
the hands of their savage foes: days afterwards they were searched
for and found in the bed of the river. Breathless, desperate, lamed,
and utterly outworn, the two friends struggled up the bank and the
hill beyond. But Zulus had crossed that stream as well as the
fugitive Englishmen. They staggered forward for a few hundred
yards, then, unable to go further, the friends stood back to back and
the foe closed in upon them. There they stood, and there, fighting
desperately, the heroes died. Peace be with them in that land to
which they have journeyed, and among men, immortal honour to
their names!
They sold their lives dearly, for several Zulus were found lying
about their bodies.'
About forty white men lived to cross the river at Fugitives'
Drift, and these, almost the only English survivors of the force at
Isandhlwana, rode on, still followed by Zulus, to the provision depot
at Helpmakaar some fifteen miles away, where they mustered and
entrenched themselves as best they were able, expecting to be
attacked at any moment. But no attack was delivered, the Zulus
being busily employed elsewhere.
Some little distance from the banks of the Buffalo, and on the
Natal side near to a mountain called Tyana, stood two buildings
erected by the Rev. Mr. Witt; Rorke's Drift, from which No. 3
column had advanced, being immediately in front of them. One of
these buildings had been utilised as a storehouse and hospital, and
in it were thirty-five sick men. The other was occupied by a
company of the 2nd 24th regiment, under the command of the late
Lieut. Bromhead.1
On January 22, the ponts at Rorke's Drift were left in charge of
Lieut. Chard, B.E., with a few men. About a quarter-past three
on that day an officer of Lonsdale's regiment, Lieut. Adendorff,
and a carbineer, were seen galloping wildly towards the ponts. On
coming to the bank of the river, they shouted to Lieut. Chard to
1 Col. Bromhead died recently.


146 THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
take them across, and so soon as he reached them, they communi-
cated to him the terrifying news that the general's camp had been
captured and destroyed by a Zulu impi. A few minutes later a
message arrived from Lieut. Bromhead, who also had learned the
tidings of disaster, requesting Lieut. Chard to join him at the
commissariat store. Mounting his horse he rode thither, to find
Lieut. Bromhead, assisted by Mr. Dolton, of the commissariat, and
the entire force at his command, amounting to about 130, inclusive
of the sick and the chaplain, Mr. Smith, a Norfolk man, actively
engaged in loopholing and barricading the house and hospital (both
of which buildings were thatched), and in connecting them by means
of a fortification of mealie bags and waggons. Having ridden round
the position, Lieut. Chard returned to the Drift. Sergeant Milne
and Mr. Daniells, who managed the ponts, offered to moor them
in the middle of the stream, and with the assistance of a few men
to defend them from their decks. This gallant suggestion being
rejected as impracticable, Lieut. Chard withdrew to the buildings
with the waggon and those under his command.
They arrived there about 3.30, and shortly afterwards an officer of
Durnford's native horse rode up, accompanied by about 100 mounted
men, and asked for orders. He was requested to send out outposts
in the direction of the enemy, and, having checked their advance as
much as possible, to fall back, when forced so to do, upon the buildings
and assist in their defence. Posts were then assigned to each man
in the little garrison, and, this done, the defensive preparations went
on, all doing their utmost, for they felt that the life of every one
of them was at stake. Three-quarters of an hour went by, and the
officer of Durnford's horse rode up, reporting that the Zulus were
advancing in all, and that his men were deserting in the
direction of Helpmakaar. At this time some natives of the Natal
contingent under the command of Capt. Stephenson also retired,
an example which was followed by that officer himself.
Lieuts. Chard and Bromhead now saw that their lines of defence
were too large for the number of men left to them, and at once began
the erection of an inner entrenchment formed of biscuit boxes
taken from the stores. When this wall was but two boxes high,
suddenly there appeared five or six hundred Zulus advancing at a
run against the southern side of their position. These were soldiers
of the Undi regiment, the same that had turned the Isandhlwana
mountain, cutting off all possibility of retreat by the waggon road,
who, when they knew that the camp was taken, had advanced


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
147
to destroy the guard of Rorke's Drift. On they came, to be met
presently by a terrible and concentrated fire from the Martinis.
Many fell, but they did not stay till, when within 50 yards of the
wall, the cross fire from the store took them in flank. Their loss
was now so heavy that, checking their advance, some of them took
cover among the ovens, cookhouse, and outbuildings, whence they in
turn opened fire upon the garrison. Hundreds more rushing round
the hospital came at full speed against the north-west fortification of
sacks filled with corn. In vain did the Martinis pump a hail of lead
into them: on they came straight to the frail defence, striving to take
it at the point of the assegai. But here they were met by British
bayonets and a fire so terrible that even the courage of the Zulus
could not prevail against it, and they fell back, that is, those of them
who were left alive.
By this time the main force of the Undi had arrived, two
thousand of them, perhaps, and having lined an overlooking ledge
of rocks, took possession of the garden of the station and the bush
surrounding it, from all of which the fire, though badly directed,
was so continuous that at length the little garrison of white men
were forced back into their inner entrenchment of biscuit boxes.
Creeping up under cover of the bush, the Zulus now delivered
assault after assault upon the wall. Each of these fierce rushes
was repelled with the bayonets wielded by the brave white men
on its further side. The assegais clashed against the rifle barrels,
everywhere the musketry rang and rolled, the savage war-cries and
the cheers of the Englishmen rose together through the din, while
British soldier and Zulu warrior thrust and shot and tore at each
other across the narrow wall, that wall which all the Undi could
not climb.
Now it grew dark, for the night was closing in; the spears
flashed dimly, and in place of smoke long tongues of flame shot from
the rifle barrels, illumining the stern faces of those who held them as
lightning does. But soon there was to be light. If any had leisure
to observe, they may have seen flakes of fire flying upwards from
the dim bush, and wondered what they were. They were bunches
of burning grass being thrown on spears to fall in the thatch of the
hospital roof. Presently something could be seen on this roof that
shone like a star. It grew dim, then suddenly began to brighten
and to increase till the star-like spot was a flame, and a hoarse cry
passed from man to man of: 'O God! the hospital is on fire!'
The hospital was on fire, and in it were sick men, some of whom


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA 149
band had suffered, indeed, for fifteen of them were dead, and twelve
wounded, some mortally, but seeing what had been done the loss
was small. Had the Zulus once won an entrance over the last
entrenchment of biscuit boxes not a man would have remained
alive. Surely biscuits were never put to a nobler or a stranger use.
The daylight had come and the enemy vanished with the night,
retreating over a hill to the south-west. But, as the defenders
of Rorke's Drift guessed, he had no intention of abandoning his
attack. Therefore they knew that this was no time to be idle.
Sallying out of their defences they collected the arms of the dead
Zulus, then returned, and began to strip the roof of the store of its
thatch, which was a constant source of danger to them, seeing that
fire is a deadlier foe even than the asset gai. They were thus en-
gaged when again the Zulus appeared to make an end of them.
Once more the weary soldiers took up their positions, and a while
passed. Now they perceived that the Undi, which had been
advancing, slowly commenced to fall back, a movement that they
were at a loss to understand, till a shout from those who were
engaged in stripping the roof told the glad news that English troops
were advancing to their relief.
These were the remains of No. 3 column, moving down from
Isandhlwana. Little did the general and those with him expect to
find a soul living at Rorke's Drift, for they also had seen the sullen
masses of the Undi retreating from the post, and the columns of
smoke rising from the burning hospital confirmed their worst fears.
What then was their joy when they perceived a Union Jack flying
amidst the smoke, and heard the ring of a British cheer rising
from the shattered walls and the defences of sacks of corn! For-
ward galloped Col. Russell and his mounted men, and in five
minutes more those who remained of the garrison were safe, and
the defence of Rorke's Drift was a thing of the past; another
glorious page ready to be bound into that great book which is
called ' The Deeds of Englishmen.'
Nearly six months passed before all the dead at Isandhlwana
were reverently buried. Strange were the scenes that those saw
whose task it was to lay them to their rest. Here, hidden by the
rank grass, in one heap behind the officers' tents, lay the bodies of
some seventy men, who had made their last stand at this spot;
lower down the hill lay sixty more. Another band of about the
same strength evidently had taken refuge among the rocks of the


150 THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
mountains, and defended themselves there till their ammunition was
exhausted, and their ring broken by the assegai. All about the
plain lay Englishmen and Zulus, as they had died in the dread
struggle:—here side by side, amidst rusted rifles and bent assegais,
here their bony arms still locked in the last hug of death, and
yonder the Zulu with the white man's bayonet through his skull,
the soldier with the Zulu's assegai in what had been his heart. One
man was found, who, when his cartridges were spent, and his rifle

was broken, had defended himself to the end with a tent-hammer that
lay among his bones, and another was stretched beneath the precipice,
from the crest of which he had been hurled.
Well, they buried them where they were discovered, and there
they sleep soundly beneath the shadow of Isandhlwana's cliff.
And now a few words more, and this true story will be finished.
We conquered the Zulus at last, at a battle called Ulundi, where they
hurled themselves in vain upon the bullets and bayonets of the


THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
161
British square. To the end they fought bravely for their king and
country, and though they were savages, and, like all savages, cruel
when at war, they were also gallant enemies, and deserve our respect.
Theking himself, Cetywayo, was hunted down, captured, and sent into
captivity. Afterwards, there was what is called a' popular movement'
on his behalf in England, and he was sent back to Zululand, with
permission to rule half the country. Meanwhile, after the conclusion
of the war, our Government would not take the land, and a settlement
was effected, under which thirteen chiefs were put in authority over
the country. As might have been expected, these chiefs fought with
each other, and many men were killed. When Cetywayo returned
the fighting became fiercer than ever, since those who had tasted
power refused to be dispossessed, until at last he was finally defeated,
and, it is believed, poisoned by his own side, to whom he had ceased
to be serviceable. Meanwhile also, the Dutch Boers, taking advan-
tage of the confusion, occupied a great part of Zululand, which they
still hold. Indeed, they would long ago have taken it all, had not
the English government, seeing the great misery to which its ever-
changing policy had reduced the unhappy Zulus, assumed authority
over the remainder of the country. From that day forward, there
has been no more killing or trouble in British Zululand, which is
ruled by Sir Melmoth Osborn, K.C.M.G., and the Queen has no
more contented subjects than the Zulus, nor any who pay their
taxes with greater regularity!
But the Zulus as a nation are dead, and never again will a great
Impi, such as swept away our troops at Isandhlwana, be seen
rushing down to war. Their story is but one scene in the vast drama
which is being enacted in this generation, and which some of you
who read these lines may live to see, not accomplished, indeed, but
in the way of accomplishment—the drama of the building up of a
great Anglo-Saxon empire in Africa—an empire that within the next
few centuries may well become one of the mightiest in the world. We
have made many and many a mistake, but still that empire grows;
in spite of the errors of the Home Government, the obstinacy of the
Boers, the power of native chiefs, and the hatred of Portuguese, still
it grows. Already it is about as big as Europe, and it is only a
baby yet, a baby begotten by the genius and courage of individual
Englishmen.
When the child has become a giant—yes, even in those far-off
ages when it is a very old giant, a king among the nations—we
may be sure that, from generation to generation, men will show their


152 THE TALE OF ISANDHLWANA
sons the mountain that was called Isandhlwana, or the place of the
Little Hand, and a certain spot on the banks of the Buffalo River,
and tell the tale of how beneath that hill the wild Zulus of the
ancient times overwhelmed the forces of the early English settlers;
of how, for a long night through, a few men of those forces held two
grass-thatched sheds against their foe's savage might; and of how
some miles away two heroes named Melville and Coghill died
together whilst striving to save the colours of their regiment from
the grasp of the victorious 'Children of Heaven.'
Now it may interest you to know that these last words are
written with a pen that was found among the bones of the dead at
Isandhlwana.
H. Rider Haggard.


153
HOW LEIF THE LUCKY FOUND
VINELAND THE GOOD
This is the story of the first finding of America by the Icelanders,
nearly five hundred years before Columbus. They landed on
the coast, and stayed for a short time; where they landed is uncer-
tain. Thinking that it was in New England, the people of Boston
have erected a statue of Leif in their town. The story was not
written till long after Leif' s time, and it cannot all be true. Dead
men do not return and give directions about their burial as we read
here. We have omitted a silly tale of a one-footed man. In the
middle ages, people believed that one-footed men lived in Africa;
they thought Vineland was near Africa, so they brought the fable
into the saga. Hundreds of years before Columbus discovered America, there
lived in Iceland a man named Eric the Red. His father had slain
a man in Norway, and fled with his family to Iceland. Eric, too,
was a dangerous man. His servants did mischief on the farm of a
neighbour, who slew them. Then Eric slew the farmer, and also
Holmgang Hrafn, a famous duellist, of whom the country was well rid.
Eric was banished from that place, and, in his new home, had a new
quarrel. He lent some furniture to a man who refused to restore
it. Eric, therefore, carried off his goods, and the other pursued
him. They fought, and Eric killed him. For this he was made
an outlaw, and went sailing to discover new countries. He found
one, where he settled, calling it Greenland, because, he said, people
would come there more readily if it had a good name.
One Thorbiorn, among others, sailed to Greenland, but came in
an unlucky time, for fish were scarce, and some settlers were
drowned. At that day, some of the new comers were Christians,
some still worshipped the old Gods, Thor and Woden, and practised
magic. These sent for a prophetess to tell them what the end
of their new colony would be. It is curious to know what a real


154
HOW LEIF THE LUCKY FOUND
witch was like, and how she behaved, so we shall copy the story from
the old Icelandic book.
'When she came in the evening, with the man who had been
sent to meet her, she was clad in a dark-blue cloak, fastened with
a strap, and set with stones quite down to the hem. She wore
"lass beads around her neck, and upon her head a black lambskin
hood, lined with white catskin. In her hands she carried a staff

upon which there was a knob, which was ornamented with brass,
and set with stones up about the knob. circling her waist she
wore a girdle of touchwood, and attached to it a great skin pouch,
in which she kept the charms which she used when she was prac-
tising her sorcery. She wore upon her feet shaggy calfskin shoes,
with long, tough latchets, upon the ends of which there were large
brass buttons. She had catskin gloves upon her hands; the gloves


VINELAND THE GOOD
155
were white inside and lined with fur. When she entered, all of the
folk felt it to be their duty to offer her becoming greetings. She
received the salutations of each individual according as he pleased
her. Yeoman Thorkel took the sibyl by the hand, and led her to
the seat which had been made ready for her. Thorkel bade her
run her eyes over man and beast and home. She had little to
say concerning all these. The tables were brought forth in the
evening, and it remains to be told what manner of food was pre-
pared for the prophetess. A porridge of goat's beestings was made
for her, and for meat there were dressed the hearts of every kind of
beast which could be obtained there. She had a brass spoon, and
a knife with a handle of walrus tusk, with a double hasp of brass
around the shaft, and from this the point was broken. And when
the tables were removed, Yeoman Thorkel approaches the prophetess
Thorbiorg, and asks how she is pleased with the home, and the
character of the folk, and how speedily she would be likely to be-
come aware of that concerning which he had questioned her, and
which the people were anxious to know. She replied that she
could not give an opinion in this matter before the morrow, after
that she had slept there through the night. And on the morrow,
when the day was far spent, such preparations were made as were
necessary to enable her to accomplish her soothsaying. She bade
them bring her those women who knew the incantation which she
required to work her spells, and which she called Warlocks; but
such women were not to be found. Thereupon a search was made
throughout the house, to see whether anyone knew this [incanta-
tion]. Then says Gudrid, Thorbiorn's daughter: "Although I am
neither skilled in the black art nor a sibyl, yet my foster-mother,
Halldis, taught me in Iceland that spell-song, which she called
Warlocks." Thorbiorg answered: "Then art thou wise in season!"
Gudrid replies; "This is an incantation and ceremony of such a
kind that I do not mean to lend it any aid, for that I am a Christian
woman." Thorbiorg answers: "It might so be that thou couldst
give thy help to the company here, and still be no worse woman
than before ; however, I leave it with Thorkel to provide for my
needs." Thorkel now so urged Gudrid that she said she must needs
comply with his wishes. The women then made a ring round about,
while Thorbiorg sat up on the spell-dais. Gudrid then sang the
song, so sweet and well, that no one remembered ever before to have
heard the melody sung with so fair a voice as this. The sorceress
thanked her for the song, and said: "She has indeed lured many


158 HOW LEIF THE LUCKY FOUND
of native wheat (maize P). Then they sailed on, passed an isle
covered with birds' eggs, and a firth, which they called Streamfirth,
from the tide in it.
Beyond Streamfirth they landed and established themselves
there.
'There were mountains thereabouts. They occupied themselves
exclusively with the exploration of the country. They remained
there during the winter, and they had taken no thought for this
during the summer. The fishing began to fail, and they began to
fall short of food. Then Thorhall the Huntsman disappeared.
They had already prayed to God for food, but it did not come as
promptly as their necessities seemed to demand. They searched
for Thorhall for three half-days, and found him on a projecting
crag. He was lying there, and looking up at the sky, with mouth
and nostrils agape, and mumbling something. They asked him
why he had gone thither; he replied, that this did not concern
anyone. They asked him then to go home with them, and he did
so. Soon after this a whale appeared there, and they captured it,
and flensed it, and no one could tell what manner of whale it was;
and when the cooks had prepared it, they ate of it, and were all
made ill by it. Then Thorhall, approaching them, says: "Did not
the Red-beard (that is, Thor) prove more helpful than your Christ?
This is my reward for the verses which I composed to Thor the
Trustworthy; seldom has he failed me." When the people heard
this, they cast the whale down into the sea, and made their appeals
to God. The weather then improved, and they could now row out
to fish, and thenceforward they had no lack of provisions, for they
could hunt game on the land, gather eggs on the island, and catch
fish from the sea.'
Next spring Thorhall the heathen left them, laughing at the wine
which he had been promised, and sailed north. He and his crew
were driven to Ireland, where they were captured and sold as slaves,
and that was all Thorhall got by worshipping the Red Beard.
Karlsefni sailed south and reached a rich country of wild maize,
where also was plenty of fish and of game. Here they first met
the natives, who came in a fleet of skin-canoes. 'They were
swarthy men and ill-looking, and the hair of their heads was ugly.
They had great eyes and were broad of cheek.'
The Icelanders held up a white shield in sign of peace, and the
natives withdrew. They may have been Eskimo or Red Indians.
The winter was mild and open, but spring had scarce returned,


1G0 HOW LEIF THE LUCKY FOUND VINELAND
would come again, and they at first took Cortes and his men for the
children of Quetzalcoatl. So we may fancy if we please that Bishop
Eric, or one of his descendants, wandered from Vineland south and
west across the continent and arrived among the Aztecs, and by
them was taken for a God.1
1 The story is taken from the Saga of Eric the Red, and from the Flatey Book in Mr.
Reeves's Finding of Wineland the Good (Clarendon Press, 1890). The discovery of
Yineland was made about the year 1000. The saga of Eric the Red was written about
1300-1334, but two hundred years before, about 1134, Ari the learned mentions Vine-
land as quite familiar in his Mandingabdk. There are other traces of Vineland,
earlier than the manuscript of the Saga of Eric the Red. Of course we do not know
when that saga was first written down. The oldest extant manuscript of it belonged
to t hank, who died In 1334.


161
THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES
MOST people know of the terrible war, waged even down to the
present century, between the Christian ships cruising about
the Mediterranean and the dreaded Moors or Corsairs of the Barbary
Coast. It was a war that began in the name of religion, the
Crescent against the Cross; but, as far as we can learn from the
records of both sides, there was little to choose in the way that
either party treated the captives. A large number of these were
chained to the oars of the galleys which were the ships of battle of
the middle ages, and sometimes the oars were so long and heavy
that they needed forty men to each. The rowers had food enough
to give them the strength necessary for their work, and that was
all, and the knowledge that they were exerting themselves for the
downfall of their fellow-Christians, often of their fellow-country-
men, must have made their labour a toil indeed. Often it hap-
pened that a man's courage gave way and he denied his faith and
his country, and rose to great honours in the service of the Sultan,
the chief of the little kings who swarmed on the African coasts,
The records of the Corsairs bristle with examples of these success-
ful renegades, many of them captured as boys, who were careless
under what flag they served, as long as their lives were lives of
adventure.
All the captives were not, however, turned into galley slaves.
Some were taken to the towns and kept in prisons called bagnios,
waiting till their friends sent money to redeem them. If this was
delayed, they were set to public works, and treated with great
severity, so that their letters imploring deliverance might become
yet more urgent. The others, known as the king's captives, whose
ransom might be promptly expected, did no work and were kept
apart from the rest.
It was on September 26, 1575, that Miguel Cervantes, the future
author of 'Don Quixote,' fell into the hands of a Greek renegade


162 THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES
Dali Mami by name, captain of a galley of twenty-two banks of
oars. Cervantes, the son of a poor but well-descended gentleman of
Castile, had served with great distinction under Don John of Austria
at the battle of Lepanto four years earlier, and was now returning
with his brother Rodrigo to Spain on leave, bearing with him letters
from the commander-in-chief, Don John, the Duke of Sesa, Viceroy
of Sicily, and other distinguished men, testifying to his qualities as
a soldier, 'as valiant as he was unlucky,' and recommending
Thilip II. to give him the command of a Spanish company then
being formed for Italian service. But all these honours proved his
bane. The Spanish squadron had not sailed many days from Naples
when it encountered a Corsair fleet, and after a sharp fight Cervantes
and his friends were carried captive into Algiers.
Of course the first thing done was to examine each man as to
his position in life, and the amount of ransom he might be expected
to bring, and the letters found upon Miguel Cervantes impressed
them with the notion that he was a person of consequence, and
capable of furnishing a large sum of money. They therefore took
every means of ensuring his safety, loading him with chains,
appointing him guards, and watching him day and night.
'Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage.'
Cervantes never lost heart a moment, but at once began to plan
an escape for himself and his fellow-captives. But the scheme
broke down owing to the treachery of the man in whom he had
confided, and the Spaniards, particularly Cervantes, were made to
suffer a stricter confinement than before. The following year the
old Cervantes sent over what money he had been able to raise on
his own property and his daughters' marriage portions for the
ransom of his sons, by the hands of the Redemptorist Fathers, an
Order which had been founded for the sole purpose of carrying on
this charitable work. But when the sum was offered to Dali Mami
he declared it wholly insufficient for purchasing the freedom of
such a captive, though it was considered adequate as the ransom
of the younger brother Rodrigo. Accordingly, in August 1577,
Rodrigo Cervantes set sail for Spain, bearing secret orders from his
brother Miguel to fit out an armed frigate, and to send it by way of
Valencia and Majorca to rescue himself and his friends.
But even before the departure of Rodrigo, Cervantes had been
laying other plans. He had, somehow or other, managed to make


THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES
168
acquaintance with the Navarrese gardener of a Greek renegade
named Azan, who had a garden stretching down to the sea-shore,
about three miles east of Algiers, where Cervantes was then im-
prisoned. This gardener had contrived to use a cave in Azan's
garden as a hiding place for some escaped Christians, and as far
back as February 1577 about fifteen had taken refuge there, under
the direction of Cervantes. How they remained for so many
months undiscovered, and how they were all fed, no one can tell;
but this part of the duty had been undertaken by a captive renegade
called El Dorador, or the Gilder, to whom their secret had been
confided.
Meanwhile, Rodrigo had proved faithful to his trust. He had
equipped a frigate for sea, under the command of a tried soldier,
Viana by name, who was familiar with the Barbary coast. It set
sail at the end of September, and by the 28th had sighted Algiers.
From motives of prudence the boat kept to sea till nightfall, when it
silently approached the shore. The captives hailed it with joy, and
were in the act of embarking, when a fishing craft full of Moors
passed by, and the rescue vessel was forced to put to sea. Mean-
while, Cervantes and the fugitives in the cave had to return dis-
heartened into hiding, and await another opportunity.
But once lost, the opportunity was gone for ever. Before any
fresh scheme could be concerted, El Dorador had betrayed the hiding
place of the Christians and their plan of escape to the cruel Dey or
King Azan, who saw in the information a means to satisfy his
greed. According to the law of the country, he was enabled to
claim the escaped slaves as his own property (except Cervantes, for
whom he paid 500 crowns), and with a company of armed men
presented himself before the cave.
In this dreadful strait Cervantes' courage never faltered. He
told the trembling captives not to fear, as he would take upon
himself the entire responsibility of the plan. Then, addressing
Azan's force, he proclaimed himself the sole contriver of the scheme,
and professed his willingness to bear the punishment. The Turks
were struck dumb at valour such as this, in the presence of the
most dreadful torments, and contented themselves with ordering
the captives into close confinement at the bagnio, hanging the
gardener, and bringing Cervantes bound to receive his sentence from
the Dey Azan himself.
The threats of impalement, torture, mutilation of every kind,
which Cervantes well knew to be no mere threats, had no effect
m 2


164
THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES
upon his faithful soul. He stuck to the story he had told, and the
Dey,' wearied by so much constancy,' as the Spanish historian says,
ended by loading him with chains, and throwing him again into
prison.
For some time he remained here, strictly and closely guarded,
but his mind always active as to plans of escape. At last, however,
he managed to enter into relations with Don Martin de Cordoba,
General of Oran, by means of a Moor, who undertook to convey
letters asking for help for the Spanish prisoners. But his ill for-
tune had not yet deserted him. The messenger fell into the hands
of other Moors, who handed him over to Azan, and the wretched
man was at once put to a cruel death by the Dey's orders.
Curiously enough, the sentence of 2,000 lashes passed upon Cer-
vantes was never carried into effect.
Disappointments and dangers only made Cervantes more de-
termined to free himself or die in the attempt; but nearly two
years dragged by before he saw another hope rise before him,
though he did everything he could in the interval to soothe the
wretched lot of his fellow-captives. This time his object was to
induce two Valencia merchants of Algiers to buy an armed frigate,
destined to carry Cervantes and a large number of Christians back
to Spain, but at the last minute they were again betrayed, this time
by a countryman, and again Cervantes took the blame on his own
shoulders, and confessed nothing to the Dey.
Now it seemed indeed as if his last moment had come. His
hands were tied behind him, and a cord was put round his neck;
but Cervantes never swerved from the tale he had resolved to tell,
and at the close of the interview found himself within the walls of
a Moorish prison, where he lay for five months loaded with fetters
and chains, and treated with every kind of severity, though never
with actual cruelty.
All this time his mind was busy with a fresh scheme, nothing
short of a concerted insurrection of all the captives in Algiers, num-
bering about 25,000, who were to overpower the city, and to plant
the Spanish flag on its towers. His measures seem to have been
taken with sufficient prudence and foresight to give them a fair
chance of success, bold as the idea was, but treachery as usual
caused the downfall of everything. Why, under such repeated pro-
vocation, the cruel Azan Aga did not put him to a frightful death
it is hard to understand, but in his 'Captive's Story,' Cervantes
himself bears testimony to the comparative moderation of the Dey's


THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES 165
behaviour towards him. 'Though suffering,' he says, 'often, if not
indeed always, from hunger and thirst, the worst of all our miseries
was the sight and sound of the tortures daily inflicted by our
master on our fellow-Christians. Every day he hanged one, im-
paled another, cut off the ears of a third; and all this for so little
reason, or even for none at all, that the very Turks knew he did it
for the mere pleasure of doing it; and because to him cruelty was
the natural employment of mankind. Only one man did he use
well, and that was a Spanish soldier, named Saavedra, and though
this Saavedra had struck blows for liberty which will be remembered
by Moors for many years to come, yet Azan never either gave him
stripes himself, nor ordered his servants to do so, neither did he
ever throw him an evil word; while we trembled lest for the
smallest of his offences the tyrant would have him impaled, and
more than once he himself expected it.' This straightforward
account of matters inside the bagnio is the more valuable and in-
teresting if we recollect that Cervantes' great-grandmother was a
Saavedra, and that the soldier alluded to in the text was really
himself. It is impossible to explain satisfactorily the sheathing of
the tiger's claws on his account alone; did Cervantes exercise
unconsciously a mesmeric influence over Azan? Did Azan ascribe
his captive's defiance of death and worse than death to his bearing
a charmed life? Or did he hold him to be a man of such consequence
in his own country, that it was well to keep him in as good condi-
tion as Azan's greed would permit? We shall never know; only
there remains Cervantes' emphatic declaration that during the five
long years of his captivity no man's hand was ever lifted against
him.
Meanwhile, having no more money wherewith to ransom his
son, Rodrigo de Cervantes made a declaration of his poverty before
a court of law, and set forth Miguel's services and claims. In
March 1578, the old man's prayer was enforced by the appearance
of four witnesses who had known him both in the Levant and in
Algiers and could testify to the truth of his father's statement, and a
certificate of such facts as were within his knowledge being willingly
offered by the Duke of Sesa, the King, Philip II., consented to
furnish the necessary ransom.
But the ill-fortune which had attended Cervantes in these past
years seemed to stick to him now. Just when the negotiations
were drawing to a conclusion, his father suddenly died, and it
appeared as if the expedition of the Kedemptorist Fathers would


166
THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES
sail without him. However, his mother was happily a woman of
energy, and after managing somehow to raise three hundred ducats
on her own possessions, appealed to the King for help. This he
appears to have granted her at once, and he gave her an order for
2,000 ducats on some Valencia merchandise; but with their usual
bad luck they only ultimately succeeded in obtaining about sixty,
which with her own three hundred were placed in the hands of the
Iledemptorist Fathers.
It was time: the fact that the term of Azan's government of
Algiers had drawn to an end rendered him more than ever greedy
for money, and he demanded for Cervantes double the price that he
himself had paid, and threatened, if this was not forthcoming, to
carry his captive on board his own vessel, which was bound for
Constantinople. Indeed, this threat was actually put into effect,
and Cervantes, bound and loaded with chains, was placed in
a ship of the little squadron that was destined for Turkish waters.
The good father felt that once in Constantinople, Cervantes would
probably remain a prisoner to the end of his life, and made un-
heard of efforts to accomplish his release, borrowing the money
that was still lacking from some Algerian merchants, and even
using the ransoms that had been entrusted to him for other captives.
Then at last Cervantes was set free, and after five years was able
to go where he would and return to his native country.
His work however was not yet done. He somehow discovered
that a Spaniard named Blanco de Paz, who had once before betrayed
him, was determined, through jealousy, to have him arrested
the moment he set foot in Spain, and to this end had procured a
mass of false evidence respecting his conduct in Algiers. It is not
easy to see what Cervantes could have done to incur the hatred
of this man, but about this he did not trouble himself to inquire,
and set instantly to consider the best way of bringing his schemes
to naught. He entreated his friend, Father Gil, to be present at
an interview held before the notary Pedro de Ribera, at which a
number of respectable Christians appeared to answer a paper of
twenty-five questions, propounded by Cervantes himself, as to the
principal events of his five years of imprisonment, and his treat-
ment of his fellow-captives. Armed with this evidence, he was
able to defy the traitor, and to return in honour to his native land.
With the rest of his life we have nothing to do. It was not, we
may be sure, lacking in adventure, for he was the kind of man to
whom adventures come, and as his inheritance was all gone, he


THE ESCAPES OF CERVANTES
167
went back to his old trade, and joined the army which Philip was
assembling to enforce his claim to the crown of Portugal. In this
country as in all others to which his wandering life had led him,
he made many friends and took notice of what went on around
him. He was in all respects a man practical and vigorous, in
many ways the exact opposite of his own Don Quixote, who saw
everything enlarged and glorified and nothing as it really was, but
in other ways the true counterpart of his hero in his desire to give
help and comfort wherever it was needed, and to leave the world
better than he found it.


168
THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE,
AN ENGLISHMAN, IN DELIVERING TWO
HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SIX CHRISTIANS
OUT OF THE CAPTIVITY OF THE TURKS AT
ALEXANDRIA, JANUARY 3, 1577
AMONG our English merchants it is a common thing to traffic with Spain, for which purpose, in 15C3, there set out from
Portsmouth a ship called the 'Three Half Moons,' with thirty-eight
men on board, and well armed, the better to encounter any foes
they might meet. Now, drawing near the Straits, they found them-
selves beset by eight Turkish galleys, so that it was impossible for
them to fly, but they must either yield or be sunk. This the
owner perceiving, manfully encouraged his company, telling them
not to faint in seeing such a heap of their foes ready to devour
them; putting them in mind also that if it were God's pleasure
to give them into their enemies' hands, there ought not to be one
unpleasant look among them, but they must take it patiently;
putting them in mind also of the ancient worthiness of their
countrymen, who in the hardest extremities have always most
prevailed. With other such encouragement they all fell on their
knees, making their prayers briefly to God.
Then stood up Grove, the master, being a comely man, with his
sword and target, holding them up in defiance against his enemies.
Likewise stood up the owner, boatswain, purser, and every man well
armed. Now also sounded up the trumpets, drums, and flutes, which
would have encouraged any man, however little heart he had in him.
Then John Foxe, the gunner, took him to his charge, sending his
bullets among the Turks, who likewise fired among the Christians,
and thrice as fast. But shortly they drew near, so that the English
bowmen fell to shooting so terribly among their galleys that there


THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE 169
were twice as many of the Turks slain as the whole number of the
Christians. But the Turks discharged twice as fast against the
Christians, and so long that the ship was very sorely battered and
bruised, which the foe perceiving, made the more haste to come
aboard. For this coming aboard many a Turk paid dearly with his
life, but it was all in vain, and board they did, where they found a
hot skirmish. For the Englishmen showed themselves men indeed,
and the boatswain was valiant above the rest, for he fought among
the Turks like a mad lion, and there was none of them that could

stand in his face; till at last there came a shot that struck him
in the breast, so that he fell down, bidding them farewell, and
to be of good comfort, and exhorting them rather to win praise by
death than to live in captivity and shame. This, they hearing,
indeed intended to have done, but the number and press of the
Turks was so great that they could not wield their weapons,
and so were taken, when they intended rather to have died,
except only the master's mate, who shrank from the fight like a
notable coward.
But so it was, and the Turks were victors, though they had little
cause of triumph. Then it would have grieved any hard heart to
see these infidels wantonly ill-treating the Christians, who were no


170 THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN EOXE
sooner in the galleys than their garments were torn from their
backs, and they set to the oars.
I will make no mention of their miseries, being now under
their enemies raging stripes, their bodies distressed with too much
heat, and also with too much cold; but I will rather show the
deliverance of those who, being in great misery, continually trust in
God, with a steadfast hope that He will deliver them.
Near the city of Alexandria, being a harbour, there is a, ship-
road, very well defended by strong walls, into which the Turks are
accustomed to bring their galleys every winter, and there repair
them and lay them up against the spring. In this road there is a
prison, in which the captives and all those prisoners who serve in
the galleys are confined till the sea be calm again for voyaging,
every prisoner being most grievously laden with irons on his legs,
giving him great pain. Into this prison all these Christians were
put, and fast guarded all the winter, and every winter. As time
passed the master and the owner were redeemed by friends ; but
the rest were left in misery, and half-starved—except John Foxe,
who being a somewhat skilful barber, made shift now and then, by
means of his craft, to help out his fare with a good meal. Till at
last God sent him favour in the sight of the keeper of the prison,
so that he had leave to go in and out to the road, paying a stipend
to the keeper, and wearing a lock about his leg. This liberty six
more had, on the same conditions; for after their long imprison-
ment, it was not feared that they would work any mischief against
the Turks.
In the winter of the year 1577, all the galleys having reached
port, and their masters and mariners being at their own homes,
the ships themselves being stripped of their masts and sails, there
were in the prison two hundred and sixty-eight Christian captives,
belonging to sixteen different nations. Among these were three
Englishmen, one of them John Foxe, the others William Wickney
and Robert Moore. And John Foxe, now having been thirteen or
fourteen years under the bondage of the Turks, and being weary
thereof, pondered continually, day and night, how he might escape,
never ceasing to pray God to further his enterprise, if it should be
to His glory.
Not far from the road, at one side of the city, there was a
certain victualling-house, which one Peter Unticare had hired,
paying a fee to the keeper of the prison. This Peter Unticare was
a Spaniard, and also a Christian, and had been a prisoner about


THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE 171
thirty years, never contriving any means to escape, but keeping
himself quiet without being suspected of conspiracy. But on the
coming of John Foxe they disclosed their minds to each other
about their loss of liberty; and to this Unticare John Foxe con-
fided a plan for regaining their freedom, which plan the three
Englishmen continually brooded over, till they resolved to acquaint
five more prisoners with their secret. This being done, they
arranged in three more days to make their attempt at escape.
Whereupon John Foxe, and Peter Unticare, and the other six
arranged to meet in the prison on the last day of December, and
there they told the rest of the prisoners what their intention was,
and how they hoped to bring it to pass. And having, without much
ado, persuaded all to agree, John Foxe gave them a kind of
files, which he had hoarded together by means of Peter Unticare,
charging them every man to be free of his fetters by eight o'clock
on the following night.
The next night John Foxe and his six companions, all having
met at the house of Peter Unticare, spent the evening mirthfully
for fear of rousing suspicion, till it was time for them to put their
scheme into execution. Then they sent Peter Unticare to the
master of the road, in the name of one of the masters of the city,
with whom he was well acquainted, and at the mention of whose
name he was likely to come at once, desiring him to meet him
there, and promising to bring him back again.
The keeper agreed to go with Unticare, telling the warders not
to bar the gate, for he would come again with all speed. In the
meantime the other seven had provided themselves with all the
weapons they could find in the house, and John Foxe took a rusty
old sword without a hilt, which he managed to make serve by
bending the hand end of the sword instead of a hilt.
Now the keeper being come to the house, and seeing no light
nor hearing any noise, straightway suspected the plot, and was
turning back. But John Foxe, standing behind the corner of the
house, stepped forth to him. He perceiving it to be John Foxe,
said: 'O Foxe ! what have I deserved of thee that thou shouldest
seek my death?'
'Thou, villain,' quoth Foxe, 'hast been a blood-sucker of many
a Christian's blood, and now thou shalt know what thou hast deserved
at my hands!'
Therewith he lifted up his bright shining sword, cleared of its
ten years' rust, and struck him so strong a blow that his head


172 THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE
was cleft asunder, and he fell stark dead to the ground. Thereupon
Peter Unticare went in and told the rest how it was with the keeper,
and at once they came forth, and with their weapons ran him through
and cut off his head, so that no man should know who he was.
Then they marched towards the road, and entered it softly.
There were six warders guarding it, and one of them asked who
was there. Then quoth Foxe and his company, ' All friends!'
But when they were within it proved contrary, for, quoth Foxe
to his companions:
'My masters, here there is not a man to a man, so look you play
your parts!' They so behaved themselves indeed that they had
despatched those six quickly. Then John Foxe, intending not to be
thwarted in his enterprise, barred the gate surely, and planted a
cannon against it.
They entered the gaoler's lodge, where they found the keys of
the fortress and prison by his bedside, and then they all got better
weapons. In this chamber was a chest holding a great treasure,
all in ducats, which Peter Unticare and two more stuffed into
their garments, as many as they could carry. But Foxe would not
touch them, saying that it was his liberty and theirs he sought, and
not to make a spoil of the wicked treasure of the infidels. Yet these
words did not sink into their hearts, though they had no good of
their gain.
Now, having provided themselves with the weapons they needed,
they came to the prison, and unlocked its gates and doors, and
called forth all the prisoners, whom they employed, some in ram-
ming up the gate, some in fitting up a galley which was the best in
the road.
In the prison were several warders, whom John Foxe and his
company slew; but this was perceived by eight more Turks, who
fled to the top of the prison, where Foxe and his company had to
reach them by ladders. Then followed a hot skirmish, and John
Foxe was shot thrice through his apparel, without being hurt; but
Peter Unticare and the other two, who had weighed themselves
down with the ducats so that they could not manage their weapons,
were slain.
Among the Turks there was one thrust through who fell from
the top of the prison wall, and made such a crying out that the
inhabitants of a house or two that stood near came and questioned
him, and soon understood the case—how the prisoners were attempt-
ing to escape. Then they raised both Alexandria on the west side


THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE 173
of the road, and a castle at the end of the city next to the road, and
also another fortress on the north side of the road. And now the

prisoners had no way to escape but one that might seem impossible
for them.'


174 THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE
Then every man set to work, some to their tackling, some carry-
ing arms and provisions into the galley, some keeping the enemy
from the wall of the road. To be short, there was no man idle, nor
any labour spent in vain; so that presently the galley was ready,
and into it they all leaped hastily, and hoisted sail.
But when the galley had set sail, and was past the shelter of
the road, the two castles had full power over it, and what could
save it from sinking? The cannon let fly from both sides, and it
was between them both.
Yet there was not one on board that feared the shot that came
thundering about their ears, nor yet was any man scarred or touched.
For now God held forth His buckler and shielded this galley, hav-
ing tried their faith to the uttermost. And they sailed away, being
not once touched with the glance of a shot, and were presently out
of the reach of the Turkish cannon. Then might you see the Turks
coming down to the waterside, in companies like swarms of bees,
trying to make ready their galleys—which would have been a quick
piece of work, seeing that they had in them neither oars, nor sails,
nor anything else. Yet they carried them in, but some into one
galley, some into another, for there was much confusion among
them; and the sea being rough, and they having no certain guide,
it was a thing impossible that they should overtake the prisoners.
For they had neither pilot, mariners, nor any skilful master that
was ready at this pinch.
When the Christians were safe out of the enemy's coast, John
Foxe called to them all, telling them to fall down upon their knees,
thanking God for their delivery, and beseeching Him to aid them
to the land of their friends. Then they fell straightway to labour-
ing at the oars, striving to come to some Christian country, as near
as they could guess by the stars. But the winds were so contrary,
now driving them this way, now that, that they were bewildered,
thinking that God had forsaken them and left them to yet greater
danger. And soon there were no victuals left in the galley; and the
famine grew to be so great that in twenty-eight days there had died
eight persons.
But it fell out that upon the twenty-ninth day, they reached the
Isle of Candy, and landed at Gallipoli, where they were made much
of by the Abbot and monks, and cared for and refreshed. They
kept there the sword with which John Foxe had killed the keeper,
esteeming it a most precious jewel.
Then they sailed along the cost to Tarento, where they sold the


THE WORTHY ENTERPRISE OF JOHN FOXE 175
galley, and went on foot to Naples, having divided the price. But
at Naples they parted asunder, going every man his own way,
and John Foxe journeyed to Rome, where he was well entertained
by an Englishman and presented to the Pope, who rewarded him
liberally and gave him letters to the King of Spain. And by the
King of Spain also he was well entertained, and granted twenty
pence a day. Thence, desiring to return into his own country, he
departed in 1579, and being come into England, he went into the
Court, and told all his travel to the Council, who, considering that
he had spent a great part of his youth in thraldom, extended to
him their liberality, to help to maintain him in age —to their own
honour and the encouragement of all true-hearted Christians.


176
BARON TRENCK
MOST men who have escaped from prison owe their fame, not to
their flight, but to the deeds which caused their imprisonment.
It may, however, safely be asserted that few people out of his own
country would have heard of Baron Trenck had it not been for the
wonderful skill and cunning with which he managed to cut through
the 'stone walls ' and ' iron bars' of all his many 'cages.' He was
born at Konigsberg in Prussia in 1726, and entered the body-guard of
Frederic II. in 1742, when he was about sixteen. Trenck was a
young man of good family, rich, well-educated, and, according to
his own account, fond of amusement. He confesses to having
shirked his duties more than once for the sake of some pleasure,
even after the War of the Austrian Succession had broken out
(September 1744), and Frederic, strict though he was, had forgiven
him. It is plain from this, that the King must have considered
that Trenck had been guilty of some deadly treachery towards
him, when in after years he declined to pardon him for crimes
which after all the young man had never committed.
Trenck's first confinement was in 1746, when he was thrown
into the Castle of Glatz, on a charge of corresponding with his cousin
and namesake, who was in the service of the Empress Maria Theresa,
and of being an Austrian spy. At first he was kindly treated and
allowed to walk freely about the fortifications, and he took advan-
tage of the liberty given him to arrange a plan of escape with one
of his fellow-prisoners. The plot was, however, betrayed by the
other man, and a heavy punishment fell on Trenck. By the
King's orders, he was promptly deprived of all his privileges, and
placed in a cell in one of the towers, which overlooked the ramparts
lying ninety feet below, on the side nearest the town. This added
a fresh difficulty to his chances of escape, as, in passing from the
castle to the town, he was certain to be seen by many people. But
no obstacles mattered to Trenck. He had money, and then, as


BARON TRENCK
177
now, money could do a great deal. So he began by bribing one of
the officials about the prison, and the official in his turn bribed a
soap-boiler, who lived not far from the castle gates, and promised to
conceal Trenck somewhere in his house. Still, liberty must have
seemed a long way off, for Trenck had only one little knife (canif)
with which to cut through everything. By dint of incessant and
hard work, he managed to saw through three thick steel bars, but
even so, there were eight others left to do. His friend the official
then procured him a file, but he was obliged to use it with great
care, lest the scraping sound should be heard by his guards. Perhaps
they wilfully closed their ears, for many of them were sorry for
Trenck; but, at all events, the eleven bars were at last sawn through,
and all that remained was to make a rope ladder. This he did by
tearing his leather portmanteau into strips, and plaiting them into
a rope, and as this was not long enough, he added his sheets. The
night was dark and rainy, which favoured him, and he reached the
bottom of the rampart in safety. Unluckily, he met here with an
obstacle on which he had never counted. There was a large drain,
opening into one of the trenches, which Trenck had neither seen nor
heard of, and into this he fell. In spite of his struggles, he was held
fast, and his strength being at last exhausted, he was forced to call
the sentinel, and at midday, having been left in the drain for hours
to make sport for the town, he was carried back to his cell.
Henceforth he was still more strictly watched than before,
though, curiously enough, his money never seems to have been
taken from him, and at this time he had about eighty louis left, which
he always kept hidden about him. Eight days after his last at-
tempt, Fouquet, the commandant of Glatz, who hated Trenck and
all his family, sent a deputation consisting of the adjutant, an officer,
and a certain Major Doo, to speak to the unfortunate man, and
exhort him to patience and submission. Trenck entered into con-
versation with them for the purpose of throwing them off their
guard, when suddenly he snatched away Doo's sword, rushed from
his cell, knocked down the sentinel and lieutenant who were stand-
ing outside, and striking right and left at the soldiers who came
flying to bar his progress, he dashed down the stairs and leapt from
the ramparts. Though the height was great he, fell into the fosso
without injury, and still grasping his sword. He scrambled quickly
to his feet and jumped easily over the second rampart, which was
much lower than the first, and then began to breathe freely, as he
thought he was safe from being overtaken by the soldiers, who
N


176
BARONTRENCK
would have to come a long way round. At this moment, however,
he saw a sentinel making for him a short distance off, and he
rushed for the palisades which divided the fortifications from the
open country, from which the mountains and Bohemia were easily
reached. In the act of scaling them, his foot was caught tight
between the bars, and he was trapped till the sentinel came up,
and after a sharp fight got him back to prison.
For some time poor Trenck was in a sad condition. In his
struggle with the sentinel he had been wounded, while his right
foot had got crushed in the palisades. Beside this, he was watched
far more strictly than before, for an officer and two men remained
always in his cell, and two sentinels were stationed outside. The
reason of these precautions of course was to prevent his gaining over
his guards singly, either by pity or bribery. His courage sank to its
lowest ebb, as he was told on all sides that his imprisonment was
for life, whereas long after he discovered the real truth, that the
King's intention had been to keep him under arrest for a year only,
and if he had had a little more patience, three weeks would have
found him free. His repeated attempts to escape naturally angered
Frederic, while on the other hand the King knew nothing of the
fact which excused Trenck's impatience—namely, the belief carefully
instilled in him by all around him that he was doomed to per-
petual confinement.
It is impossible to describe in detail all the plans made by
Trenck to regain his freedom, first because they were endless, and
secondly because several were nipped in the bud. Still the unfor-
tunate man felt that as long as his money was not taken from him
his case was not hopeless, for the officers in command were gene-
rally poor and in debt, and were always sent to garrison work as a
punishment. After one wild effort to liberate all the prisoners in
the fortress, which was naturally discovered and frustrated, Trenck
made friends with an officer named Schell, lately arrived at Glatz,
who promised not only his aid but his company in the new enter-
prise. As more money would be needed than Trenck had in his
possession, he contrived to apply to his rich relations outside the
prison, and by some means—what we are not told—they managed
to convey a large sum to him. Suspicion, however, got about that
Trenck was on too familiar a footing with the officers, and orders
were given that his door should always be kept locked. This occa-
sioned further delay, as false keys had secretly to be made, before
anything else could be done.


BARON TRENCK
179
Their flight was unexpectedly hastened by Schell accidentally
learning that he was in danger of arrest. One night they crept
unobserved through the arsenal and over the inner palisade, but on
reaching the rampart they came face to face with two of the officers,
and again a leap into the fosse was the only way of escape. Luckily
the wall at this point was not high, and Trenck arrived at the
bottom without injury; but Schell was not so happy, and hurt his foot so badly that he called on his friend to kill him, and to make
the best of his way alone. Trenck, however, declined to abandon
him, and having dragged him over the outer palisade, took him on
his back, and made for the frontier. Before they had gone five
hundred yards they heard the boom of the alarm guns from the
fortress, while clearer still were the sounds of pursuit. As they
knew that they would naturally be sought on the side towards
Bohemia, they changed their course and pushed on to the river
Neiss, at this season partly covered with ice. Trenck swam over
slowly with this friend on his back, and found a boat on the other
side. By means of this boat they evaded their enemies, and reached
the mountains after some hours, very hungry, and almost frozen to
death.
Here a new terror awaited them. Some peasants with whom
they took refuge recognised Schell, and for a moment the fugitives
gave themselves up for lost. But the peasants took pity on the two
wretched objects, fed them and gave them shelter, till they could
make up their minds what was best to be done. To their unspeak-
able dismay, they found that they were, after all, only seven miles
from Glatz, and that in the neighbouring town of Wunschelburg a
hundred soldiers were quartered, with orders to capture all deserters
from the fortress. This time, however, fortune favoured the luckless
Trenck, and though he and Schell were both in uniform, they
rode unobserved through the village while the rest of the people
were at church, and, skirting Wunschelburg, crossed the Bohemian
frontier in the course of the day.
Then follows a period of comparative calm in Trenck's history.
He travelled freely about Poland, Austria, Russia, Sweden, Denmark
and Holland, and even ventured occasionally across the border into
Prussia. Twelve years seem to have passed by in this manner, till
in 1758 his mother died, and Trenck asked leave of the council of
war to go up to Dantzic to see his family and to arrange his affairs.
Curiously enough, it appears never to have occurred to him that he
was a deserter, and as such liable to be arrested at any moment.
N 2


180
BARON TRENCK
And this was what actually happened. By order of the King, Trenck
was taken first to Berlin, where he was deprived of his money and
some valuable rings, and then removed to Magdeburg, of which
place Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick was the governor.
Here his quarters were worse than he had ever known them.
His cell was only six feet by ten, and the window was high, with
bars without as well as within. The wall was seven feet thick, and
beyond it was a palisade, which rendered it impossible for the
sentinels to approach the window. On the other side the prisoner
was shut in by three doors, and his food (which was not only bad,
but very scanty) was passed to him through an opening.
One thing only was in his favour. His cell was only entered
once a week, so he could pursue any work to further his escape
without much danger of being discovered. Notwithstanding the
high window, the thick wall, and the palisade, notwithstanding too
his want of money, he soon managed to open negotiations with the
sentinels, and found, to his great joy, that the next cell was empty.
If he could only contrive to burrow his way into that, he would be
able to watch his opportunity to steal through the open door; Once free he could either swim the Elbe and cross into Saxony, which
lay about six miles distant, or else float down the river in a boat
till he was out of danger.
Small as the cell was, it contained a sort of cupboard fixed into
the floor by irons, and on these Trenck began to work. After
frightful labour he at last extracted the heavy nails which fastened
the staples to the floor, and breaking off the heads (which he put
back to avoid detection), he kept the rest to fashion for his own
purposes. By this means he made instruments to raise the bricks.
On this side also the wall was seven feet thick, and formed of
bricks and stones. Trenck numbered them as he went on with the
greatest care, so that the cell might present its usual appearance
before the Wednesday visit of his guards. To hide the joins, he
scraped off some of the mortar, which he smeared over the place.
As may be supposed, all this took a very long time. He had
nothing to work with but the tools he himself had made, which of
course were very rough. But one day a friendly sentinel gave him
a little iron rod, and a small knife with a wooden handle. These were
treasures, indeed! And with their help he worked away for six
months at his hole, as in some places the mortar had become so
hard that it had to be pounded like a stone.
During this time he enlisted the compassion of some of the


BARONTBENCK
181
other sentinels, who not only described to him the lie of the country
which he would have to traverse if he ever succeeded in getting out
of prison, but interested in his behalf a Jewess named Esther
Heymann, whose own father had been for two years a prisoner in
Magdeburg. In this manner Trenck became the possessor of a file,
a knife, and some writing paper, as the friendly Jewess had agreed
to convey letters to some influential people both at Vienna and
Berlin, and also to his sister. But this step led to the ruin, not only
of Trenck, but of several persons concerned, for they were betrayed
by an Imperial Secretary of Embassy called Weingarten, who was
tempted by a bill for 20,000 florins. Many of those guilty of
abetting Trenck in this fresh effort to escape were put to death,
while his sister was ordered to build a new prison for him in the
Fort de l'Etoile, and he himself was destined to pass nine more
years in chains.
In spite of his fetters, Trenck was able in some miraculous way
to get on with his hole, but his long labour was rendered useless by
the circumstance that his new prison was finished sooner than he
expected, and he was removed into it hastily, being only able to
conceal his knife. He was now chained even more heavily than
before, his two feet being attached to a heavy ring fixed in the wall,
another ring being fastened round his body. From this ring was
suspended a chain with a thick iron bar, two feet long at the
bottom, and to this his hands were fastened. An iron collar was
afterwards added to his instruments of torture.
Besides torments of body, nothing was wanting which could
work on his mind. His prison was built between the trenches of
the principal rampart, and was of course very dark. It was like-
wise very damp, and, to crown all, the name of ' Trenck ' had been
printed in red bricks on the wall, above a tomb whose place was
indicated by a death's head.
Here again, he tells us, he excited the pity of his guards, who
gave him a bed and coverlet, and as much bread as he chose to
eat; and, wonderful as it may seem, his health did not suffer from
all these horrors. As soon as he got a little accustomed to his
cramped position, he began to use the knife he had left, and to cut
through his chains. He next burst the iron band, and after a long
time severed his leg fetters, but in such a way that he could put
them on again, and no one be any the wiser. Nothing is more
common in the history of prisoners than this exploit, and nothing
is more astonishing, yet we meet with the fact again and again in


182
BARON TRENCK
their memoirs and biographies. Trenck at any rate appears to
have accomplished the feat without much difficulty, though he
found it very hard to get his hand back into his handcuffs. After
he had disposed of his bonds, he began to saw at the doors leading
to the gallery. These were four in number, and all of wood, but
when he arrived at the fourth, his knife broke in two, and the
courage that had upheld him for so many years gave way. He

opened his veins and lay down to die, when in his despair he
heard the voice of Gefhardt, the friendly sentinel from the other
prison. Hearing of Trenck's sad plight, he scaled the palisade,
and, we are told expressly, bound up his wounds, though we are
not told how he managed to enter the cell. Be that as it may, the
next day, when the guards came to open the door, they found
Trenck ready to meet them, armed with a brick in one hand, and a
knife, doubtless obtained from Gefhardt, in the other. The first


BARON TRENCK
188
man that approached him, he stretched wounded at his feet, and
thinking it dangerous to irritate further a desperate man, they
made a compromise with him. The governor took off his chains
for a time, and gave him strong soup and fresh linen. Then, after
a while, new doors were put to his cell, the inner door being lined
with plates of iron, and he himself was fastened with stronger
chains than those he had burst through.
For all this the watch must have been very lax, as Gefhardt
soon contrived to open communications with him again, and letters
were passed through the window (to which the prisoner had made
a false and movable frame) and forwarded to Trenck's rich
friends. His appeal was always answered promptly and amply.
More valuable than money were two files, also procured from
Gefhardt, and by their means the new chains were speedily cut
through, though, as before, without any apparent break. Having
freed his limbs, he began to saw through the floor of his cell,
which was of wood. Underneath, instead of hard rock, there was
sand, which Trenck scooped out with his hands. This earth was
passed through the window to Gefhardt, who removed it when he
was on guard, and gave his friend pistols, a bayonet and knives to
assist him when he had finally made his escape.
All seemed going smoothly. The foundations of the prison
were only four feet deep, and Trenck's tunnel had reached a
considerable distance when everything was again spoilt. A letter
written by Trenck to Vienna fell into the hands of the governor,
owing to some stupidity on the part of Gefhardt's wife, who had
been entrusted to deliver it. The letter does not seem to have
contained any special disclosure of his plan of escape, as the
governor, who was still Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, could find
nothing wrong in Trenck's cell except the false window frame.
The cut chains, though examined, somehow escaped detection,
from which we gather either that the officials were very careless,
or the carpenter very stupid. Perhaps both may have been the
case, for as the Seven Years' War (against Austria) was at this time
raging, sentinels and officers were frequently changed, and prison
discipline insensibly relaxed. Had this not been so, Trenck could
never have been able to labour unseen, but as it was, he was merely
deprived of his bed, as a punishment for tampering with the
window.
As soon as he had recovered from his fright and an illness which
followed, he returned to his digging. It was necessary for him to


184
BARON TRENCK
bore under the subterranean gallery of the principal rampart,
which was a distance of thirty-seven feet, and to get outside the
foundation of the rampart. Beyond that was a door leading to
the second rampart. Trenck was forced to work naked, for fear of
raising the suspicions of the officials by his dirty clothes, but in
spite of all his precautions and the wilful blindness of his guards,
who as usual were on his side, all was at length discovered. His
hole was filled up, and a year's work lost.
The next torture invented for him was worse than any that had
gone before. He was visited and awakened every quarter of an
hour, in order that he might not set to work in the night. This
lasted for four years, during part of which time Trenck employed
himself in writing verses and making drawings, on his tin cups,
after the manner of all prisoners, and in writing books with his
blood, as ink was forbidden. We are again left in ignorance as to
how he got paper. He also began to scoop out another hole, but
was discovered afresh, though nothing particular seems to have
been done to him, partly owing to the kindness of the new governor,
who soon afterwards died.
It had been arranged by his friends that for the space of one
year horses should be ready for him at a certain place, on the first
and fifteenth of every month. Inspired by this thought, he turned
to his burrowing with renewed vigour, and worked away at every
moment when he thought he could do so unseen. One day, how-
ever, when he had reached some distance, he dislodged a
large stone which blocked up the opening towards his cell. His
terror was frightful. Not only was the air suffocating and the
darkness dreadful, but he knew that if any of the guards were unex-
pectedly to come into his cell, the opening must be discovered, and
all his toil again lost. For eight hours he stayed in the tunnel
paralysed by fear. Then he roused himself, and by dint of super-
human struggles managed to open a passage on one side of the
stone, and to reach his cell, which for once appeared to him as a
haven of rest.
Soon after this the war ended with the Peace of Paris (1763),
and Trenck's hopes of release seemed likely to be realised. He
procured money from his friends, and bribed the Austrian Am-
bassador in Berlin to open negotiations on his behalf, and while
these were impending he rested from his labours for three whole
months. Suddenly he was possessed by an idea which was little
less than madness. He bribed a major to ask for a visit from Duke


BARON TRENCK
185
Ferdinand of Brunswick, again governor of Magdeburg, offering to
disclose his passage, and to reveal all his plans of escape, on con-
dition that the Duke would promise to plead for him with the King.
This message never reached the Duke himself, but some officers
arrived ostensibly sent by him, but in reality tools of the major's.
They listened to all he had to say, and saw all he had to show, then
broke their word, filled up the passage, and redoubled the chains and
the watch.
Notwithstanding this terrible blow, Trenck's trials were drawing
to an end. Whether Frederic's heart was softened by his brilliant
victories, or whether Trenck's influential friends succeeded in making
themselves heard, we do not know, but six months later he was set
free, on condition that he never tried to revenge himself on any
one, and that he never again should cross the frontiers of Saxony
or Prussia.


ISO
THE ADVENTURE OF JOHN BAWLINS
TN the year 1621, one John Rawlins, native of Rochester, sailed
from Plymouth in a ship called the 'Nicholas,' which had in its
company another ship of Plymouth, and had a fair voyage till they
came within sight of Gibraltar. Then the watch saw five sails that
seemed to do all in their power to come up with the ' Nicholas,'
which, on its part, suspecting them to be pirates, hoisted all the sail
it could; but to no avail, for before the day was over, the Turkish
ships of war—for so they proved to be—not only overtook the Ply-
mouth ships, but made them both prisoners.
Then they sailed for Argier, which, when they reached, the
English prisoners were sold as slaves, being hurried like dogs into
the market, as men sell horses in England, and marched up and
down to see who would give most for them. And though they had
heavy hearts and sad countenances, yet many came to behold them,
sometimes taking them by the hand, sometimes turning them round
about, sometimes feeling their arms and muscles, and bargaining
for them accordingly, till at last they were sold.
John Rawlins was the last who was sold, because his hand was
lame, and he was bought by the very captain who took him, named
Villa Rise, who, knowing Rawlins' skill as a pilot, bought him and
his carpenter at a very low rate—paying for Rawlins seven pounds
ten reckoned in English money. Then he sent them to work with
other slaves: but the Turks, seeing that through Rawlins' lame
hand he could not do so much as the rest, complained to their
master, who told him that unless he could obtain a ransom of
fifteen pounds, he should be banished inland, where he would never
see Christendom again.
But while John Rawlins was terrified with this stern threat of
Villa Rise, there was lying in the harbour another English ship that
had been surprised by the pirates—the ' Exchange,' of Bristol. This
ship was bought by an English Turk, who made captain of it
another English Turk, and because they were both renegades, they


THE ADVENTURE OF JOHN RAWLINS
187
concluded to have English and, Dutch slaves to go in her. So it
came about that, inquiring if any English slave were to be sold
who could serve them as pilot, they heard of John Rawlins, and
forthwith bought him of his master, Villa rise. By January 7 the ship left Argier, with, on board her, sixty-
three Turks and Moors, nine English slaves, and a French slave,
four Dutchmen, who were free, and four gunners, one English,
and one Dutch renegade.
Now, the English slaves were employed for the most part under
hatches, and had to labour hard, all of which John Rawlins took to
heart, thinking it a terrible lot to be subject to such pain and
danger only to enrich other men, and'themselves to return as slaves.
Therefore he broke out at last with such words as these:
'Oh, horrible slavery, to be thus subject to dogs! Oh, Heaven
strengthen my heart and hand, and something shall be done to
deliver us from these cruel Mahometan dogs!'
The other slaves, pitying what they thought his madness, bade
him speak softly, lest they should all fare the worse for his rashness.
'Worse,' said Rawlins, 'what can be worse? I will either regain my liberty at one time or another, or perish in the attempt;
but if you would agree to join with me in the undertaking, I doubt
not but we should find some way of winning glory with our freedom,' 'Prithee be quiet,' they returned, ' and do not think of impos-
sibilities, though, if indeed you could open some way of escape, so
that we should not be condemned as madmen for trying as it were
to pull the gun out of the heavens, then we would risk our lives; and
you may be sure of silence.'
After this the slavery continued, and the Turks set their captives
to work at all the meanest tasks, and even when they laboured
hardest, flogged and reviled them, till more and more John Rawlins
became resolved to recover his liberty and surprise the ship. So
he provided ropes with broad spikes of iron, and all the iron
crows, with which he could, with the help of the others, fasten up
the scuttles, gratings, and cabins, and even shut up the captain
himself with his companions; and so he intended to work the
enterprise, that, at a certain watchword, the English being masters
of the gunner-room and the powder, would either be ready to blow
the Turks into the air, or kill them as they came out one by one, if
by any chance they forced open the cabins.
Then, very cautiously, he told the four free Dutchmen of his
plot, and last of all the Dutch renegades, who were also in the


188 THE ADVENTURE OFJOHN RAWLINS
gunner-room: and all these consented readily to so daring an
enterprise. So he fixed the time for the venture in the captain's
morning watch.
But you must understand that where the English slaves were
there always hung four or five iron crows, just under the gun
carriages, and when the time came it was very dark, so that John
Rawlins, in taking out his iron dropped it on the side of the gun,
making such a noise that the soldiers, hearing it, waked the Turks
and told them to come down. At this the boatswain of the Turks
descended with a candle, and searched everywhere, making a great
deal of stir, but finding neither hatchet nor hammer, nor anything
else suspicious, only the iron which lay slipped down under the gun-
carriages, he went quietly up again and told the captain what
had happened, who thought that it was no remarkable thing to
have an iron slip from its place. But through this John Rawlins
was forced to wait for another opportunity.
When they had sailed further northward there happened another
suspicious accident, for Rawlins had told his scheme to the renegade
gunner, who promised secrecy by everything that could induce one
to believe in him. But immediately after he left Rawlins, and was
absent about a quarter of an hour, when he returned and sat down
again by him. Presently, as they were talking, in came a furious
Turk, with his sword drawn, who threatened Rawlins as if he
would certainly kill him. This made Rawlins suspect that the
renegade gunner had betrayed him; and he stepped back and drew
out his knife, also taking the gunner's out of its sheath; so that
the Turk, seeing him with two knives, threw down his sword, saying
he was only jesting. But the gunner, seeing that Rawlins suspected
him, whispered something in his ear, calling Heaven to witness
that he had never breathed a word of the enterprise, and never
would. Nevertheless, Rawlins kept the knives in his sleeve all
night, and was somewhat troubled, though afterwards the gunner
proved faithful and zealous in the undertaking.
All this time Rawlins persuaded the captain, who himself had
little knowledge of seamanship, to steer northward, meaning to draw
him away from the neighbourhood of other Turkish vessels. On
February 6 they descried a sail, and at once the Turks gave
chase, and made her surrender. It proved to be a ship from
near Dartmouth, laden with silk. As it was stormy weather, the
Turks did not put down their boat, but made the master of the
conquered ship put down his, and come on board with five of his


THE ADVENTURE OF JOHN RAWLINS 189
men and a boy, while ten of the Turks' men, among whom were
one English and two Dutch renegades belonging to the conspiracy,
went to man the prize instead.
But when Rawlins saw this division of his friends, before they
could set out for the other ship, he found means to tell them plainly

that he would complete his enterprise either that night or the next,
and that whatever came of it they must acquaint the four English
left on the captured ship with his resolution, and steer for England
while the Turks slept and suspected nothing. For, by God's grace,
in his first watch he would show them a light, to let them know
that the enterprise was begun, or about to be begun.


190 THE ADVENTURE OF JOHN RAWLINS
So the boat reached the ship from Dartmouth; and next
Rawlins told the captain and his men whom the Turks had sent
down among the other prisoners of his design, and found them
willing to throw in their lot with him.
The next morning, being February 7, the prize from Dartmouth
was not to be seen—the men indeed having followed Rawlins'
counsel and steered for England. But the Turkish captain began
to storm and swear, telling Rawlins to search the seas up arid down
for her—which he did all day without success. Then Rawlins,
finding a good deal of water in the hold, persuaded the captain,
by telling him that the ship was not rightly balanced, to have four
of the guns brought aft, that the water might run to the pump.
This being done, and the guns placed where the English could use
them for their own purpose, the final arrangement was made. The
ship having three decks, those that belonged to the gunner-room
were all to be there, and break up the lower deck. The English
slaves, who belonged to the middle deck, were to do the same with
that, and watch the scuttles. Rawlins himself prevailed with the
gunner to give him as much powder as would prime the guns, and
told them all there was no better watchword than, when the signal
gun was heard, to cry:
'For God, and King James, and Saint George for England.'
Then, all being prepared, and every man resolute, knowing
what he had to do, Rawlins advised the gunner to speak to the
captain, that he might send the soldiers to the poop, to bring the
ship aft, and, weighing it down, send the water to the pumps. This
the captain was very willing to do; and so, at two o'clock in the
afternoon the signal was given, by the firing of the gun, whose
report tore and broke down all the binnacle and compasses.
But when the Turks heard this, and the shouts of the con-
spirators, and saw that part of ship was torn away, and felt it shake
under them, and knew that all threatened their destruction—no
bear robbed of her whelps was ever so mad as they, for they not only
called us dogs, and cried in their tongue, ' The fortune of war! the
fortune of war!' but they tried to tear up the planking, setting
to work hammers, hatchets, knives, the oars of the boat, the boat
hook, and whatever else came to hand, besides the stones and
bricks of the cook-room, still trying to break the hatches, and never
ceasing their horrible cries and curses.
Then Rawlins, seeing them so violent, and understanding that
the slaves had cleared the decks of all the Turks and Moors under-


192 THE ADVENTURE OF JOHN RAWLINS
At the first report of the gun, and the hurly-burly on deck, the
captain was writing in his cabin, and he came out with his curtle-
axe in hand, thinking by his authority to quell the mischief. But
when he saw that the ship was surprised, he threw down his curtle-
axe, and begged Rawlins to save his life, telling him how he had
redeemed him from Villa Rise, and put him in command in the
ship, besides treating him well through the voyage. This Rawlins
confessed, and at last consented to be merciful, and brought the
captain and five more renegades into England.
When all was done, and the ship cleared of the dead bodies,
John Rawlins assembled his men, and with one consent gave the
praise to God, using the accustomed services on shipboard. And
for want of books they lifted up their voices to God, as He put it
into their hearts or renewed their memories. Then did they sing a
psalm, and last of all, embraced one another for playing the men
in such a deliverance, whereby their fear was turned into joy.
That same night they steered for England, and arrived at Plymouth
on February 13, and were welcomed with all gladness.
As for the ship from Dartmouth, that had arrived in Penzance
on February 11, for the English had made the Turks believe
that they were sailing to Argier, till they came in sight of Eng-
land. Then one of the Turks said plainly that the land was not
like Cape Vincent; but the Englishmen told them to go down
into the hold, and trim more to windward, and they should see and
know more to-morrow. Thereupon five of them went down very
orderly, while the English feigned themselves asleep ; but presently
they started up, and nailed down the hatches, and so overpowered
the Turks. And this is the story of this enterprise, and the end of
John Rawlins' voyage.


193
THE CHEVALIER JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE
FROM CULLODEN
the Chevalier Jolmstone (or de Jolmstone, as he preferred to
call himself) was closely connected with the Highland army,
hastily collected in 1745 for the purpose of restoring Charles
Edward to his grandfather's throne. He was aide-de-camp to Lord
George Murray, Generalissimo to the little force, and seems to
have known enough of warfare to be capable of appreciating his
Cat skill. He was also a captain in the regiment of the
Duke of Perth, and later, when the petals of the White Rose were
trampled under foot, he became an officer in the French service.
From his position, therefore, he was peculiarly fitted to tell the
tale of those two eventful years, 1745 and 1746. Though only the
son of a merchant, Jolmstone was well connected, and, like many
Scottish gentlemen of that day, had been bred in loyalty to the
Jacobite cause. He was one of the first to join the Prince when he
had reached Perth, and it was from the Prince himself that he
received his company, after the fight at Prestonpans. His life was
all romance, but the part on which it is our present purpose to dwell
is the account he has left in his memoirs of his escape from the
field of Culloden, and the terrible sufferings he went through for
some months, till he finally made his way safely to Holland.
'The battle of Culloden,' he says,1 'was lost rather by a series
of mistakes on our part than by any skilful manoeuvre of the Duke
of Cumberland,' and every Scot in arms knew too well the doom
that awaited him at the 'Butcher's' hands. The half-starved
Highlanders were no match for the well-fed English troops, and
when the day was lost, and the rout became general, each man
sought to conceal himself in the fastnesses of the nearest mountains,
and, as long as he put himself well out of reach, was not particular
as to the means he took to purchase safety.
1 P. 211.
o


194 JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN
Panics disclose strange and unexpected depths in men's minds,
and Johnstone was in no respect superior to his fellows. 'Being
no longer able to keep myself on my legs,' he relates,1 'and the
enemy always advancing very slowly, but redoubling their fire, my
mind was agitated and undecided whether I should throw away
my life, or surrender a prisoner, which was a thousand times
worse than death on the field of battle. All at once I perceived a
horse, about thirty paces before me, without a rider. The idea of
being yet able to escape gave me fresh strength and served as a
spur to me. I ran and laid hold of the bridle, which was fast in

the hand of a man lying on the ground, whom I supposed dead;
but, what was my surprise when the cowardly poltroon, who was
suffering from nothing but fear, dared to remain in the most
horrible fire to dispute the horse with me, at twenty paces from the
enemy. All my menaces could not induce him to quit the bridle.
Whilst we were disputing, a discharge from a cannon loaded with
grape-shot fell at our feet, without however producing any effect
upon this singular individual, who obstinately persisted in retaining
the horse. Fortunately for me, Finlay Cameron, an officer in
Lochiel's regiment, a youth of twenty years of age, six feet high,
1 r. 216.


JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN 195
and very strong and vigorous, happened to pass near us. I called
on him to assist me. "Ah Finlay," said I, "this fellow will not give
me up the horse." Finlay flew to me like lightning, immediately

presented his pistol to the head of this man, and threatened to
blow out his brains if he hesitated a moment to let go the bridle.
The fellow, who had the appearance of a servant, at length yielded
and took to his heels. Having obtained the horse, I attempted to
c 2


JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN 197
Johnstone replied that he would keep his liberty as long as he
could, and when it was no longer possible, he would meet his fate
with resignation. We all know the end to which poor Balmerino
came, but Johnstone was more fortunate.
His brother-in-law, the son of Lord Rollo, had been made
inspector of merchant ships in the town of Banff, and Johnstone
fondly hoped that by his help he might obtain a passage to some
foreign country. So he set off with three gentlemen of the name

of Gordon, who had also been staying at Rothiemurchus, and
rested the first night at the house of a shepherd near the mountain
of Cairngorm. Here he saw for the first time the stones which
bear this name, and though he is flying for his life, he dwells with
the delight of a collector on the beauty of the colours, and even
persuades his friends to put off their departure for a day, in order
that he may search for some specimens himself. He contrived, he
tells us,' to find several beautiful topazes, two of which he had cut
P. 22a.


198 JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE fromCULLODEN
as seals, and presented to the Duke of York, brother of Prince
Charles Edward.
Four days after leaving Rothiemurchus Banff was reached, and
the fugitives were sheltered by a Presbyterian minister, who was a
secret adherent of the Stuarts. Johnstone at once took the pre-
caution of exchanging his laced Highland dress for that of an old
labourer, 'quite ragged, and exhaling a pestilential odour,' due
apparently to its having been used for many years 'when he
cleaned the stables of his master.' In this unpleasant disguise, he
entered the town of Banff, then garrisoned with four hundred
English soldiers, and went straight to the house of a former
acquaintance, Mr. Duff. After gaining admittance from the ser-
vant with some difficulty, he found with dismay that his brother-
in-law was away from home, and he could not therefore carry out
his plan of embarking, with his permission, on board one of the
merchant ships- There seemed nothing for it, therefore, but for
Johnstone to return at daybreak to the house of Mr. Gordon, where
he had spent the previous night. At daybreak, however, he was
roused by a fearful disturbance in the courtyard below, occasioned
by the quarrels of some stray soldiers. For a moment he thought
death was certain, but the soldiers had no suspicion of his presence
in the house, and as soon as they had settled their affairs took
themselves off elsewhere.
Mr. Rollo proved a broken reed, and the Chevalier found, after a
few minutes' talk with his brother-in-law, that if he wished to reach
the Continent he must not count on a passage in the merchant
ships to help him. He therefore, after consultation with his friends,
came to the conclusion that his best plan was to make for the Low-
lands, and to this end he set out for Edinburgh as soon as possible.
Of course this scheme was beset with difficulties and dangers of
every kind. The countries through which he would be forced to
pass were filled with Calvinists, inspired with deadly hatred of the
Jacobite party. To escape their hands was almost certainly to fall
into those of the soldiery, and over and above this, government
passports were necessary for those who desired to cross the Firths
of Forth and Tay.
But, nothing daunted, Johnstone went his way. He was passed in
disguise from one house to another, well-fed at the lowest possible
prices (he tells us of the landlady of a small inn who charged him
threepence for ' an excellent young fowl' and his bed), till at last he
found himself in the region of Cortachy, the country of the Ogilvies,


200 JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN
with him after he woke, and after lying turning the matter over in
his mind for another hour, informed Samuel (who had come to
rouse him with the intelligence that his companions had already
set off for the mountains) that he had altered his plans and intended
to go straight to Edinburgh. In vain the old man argued and
entreated. Johnstone was determined, and that same evening he
set forth on horseback with Samuel for his guide, and made straight
for the nearest arm of the sea, which he describes, though quite
wrongly, as being only eight miles from Cortachy.
To reach this, they were obliged to pass through Forfar, a town
which, being a Calvinistic stronghold, the Chevalier can never
mention without an abusive epithet. But here poor Samuel, whose
nerves had doubtless been strained by the perpetual watching and
waiting of the last few weeks, was frightened out of his senses by
the barking of a dog, and tried to throw himself from his horse. At
this juncture, Johnstone, who knew that to be left without a guide
in this strange place meant certain death, interfered promptly.
'He was continually struggling to get down,' he says,1 ' but I pre-
vented him by the firm hold I had of his coat. I exhorted him to
be quiet; I reproached him; I alternately entreated and menaced
him; but all in vain. He no longer knew what he was about, and
it was to no purpose I assured him that it was only the barking of
a dog. He perspired at every pore, and trembled like a person in
an ague. Fortunately I had an excellent horse, and galloped
through Forfar at full speed, retaining always fast hold of his coat.
As soon as we were fairly out of the town, as no persons had come
out of their houses, poor Samuel began to breathe again, and made
a thousand apologies for his fears.'
As the day broke and they drew near Broughty Ferry, where
Johnstone intended to cross the Firth of Tay, the Chevalier dis-
mounted, and being obliged to part from his horse, offered it as a
present to Samuel, who declined the animal' from motives of
prudence. It was then turned loose in a field (the saddle and bridle
being first thrown down a well), and the wayfarers proceeded on
their way. Only a few minutes later, they were joined by an
acquaintance of Samuel's, who seems to have been of a curious turn
of mind, and cross-questioned him as to where he was going and
why. Samuel, with more readiness than could have been expected
from his recent behaviour, invented a story that sounded plausible
enough, explaining Johnstone to be a young man whom he had
1 P. 257.


JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN 201
picked up on the road, and had taken into his service at low wages,
owing to his want of a character. The stranger was satisfied, and
after a prolonged drink they separated, when Samuel informed
Johnstone that the man was one of the 'greatest knaves and cheats
in the country,' and that they would assuredly have been betrayed
if he had discovered who they were.
They arrived at the Ferry about nine in the morning, and by
Samuel's advice, the Chevalier immediately sought the help of Mr.
Graham, a gentleman of Jacobite family, then living at Duntroon.
After a warm welcome from Mr. Graham, who gave him all the
entertainment he could without the knowledge of his servants, a
boat was engaged to convey him across the Firth about nine that
night. Mr. Graham did not, however, dare to be his guide down to

the sea-shore, but gave him careful directions as to his following an
old woman who had been provided for this purpose. But all Mr.
Graham's precautions would have been useless, had not chance
once more favoured the Chevalier. His protectress decided that
it would be dangerous to allow him to loiter about the shore while
the boat was getting ready for sea, so she told her charge to wait
for her on the road on top of the hill, and she would return and
fetch him when all was ready. Half an hour passed very slowly:
the sun was sinking, and the Chevalier grew impatient. He left
the road by which he had been sitting, and lay down in a furrow
a few yards off, nearer the brow of the hill, so that he might receive his guide at the earliest moment. Scarcely had he changed
his quarters, than he heard the sound of horses, and peeping


202 JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN
cautiously out, ' saw eight or ten horsemen pass in the very place
lie had just quitted.' No sooner were they out of sight, than the
old woman arrived, trembling with fright. 'Ah!' she exclaimed in
a transport of joy, 'I did not expect to find you here.' She then
explained that the horsemen were English dragoons, and that they
had so threatened the boatmen engaged by Mr. Graham that they
absolutely refused to fulfil their compact. This was a terrible blow
to the Chevalier, but he declined to listen to the old woman's advice
and return for shelter to Mr. Graham, and after much persuasion,
induced his guide to show him the way to the public-house by the
sea-shore. Here he was welcomed by the landlady, whose son had
been likewise ' out' with the Prince, but neither her entreaties nor
those of the Chevalier could move the boatmen from their resolu-
tion. They even resisted the prayers of the landlady's two beautiful
daughters, till the girls, disgusted and indignant with such cowardice,
offered to row him across themselves.
'We left Broughty Ferry,' he writes in his memoirs, 'at ten
o'clock in the evening, and reached the opposite shore about mid-
night.' He then took an affectionate leave of his preservers, and
proceeded, footsore as he was, to walk to St. Andrews. At this
time Jolmstone seems to have felt more physically exhausted than
at almost any other moment of his travels; and it was only by
dint of perpetually washing his sore and bleeding feet in the streams
he passed, that he managed to reach St. Andrews towards eight
o'clock. He at once made his way to the house of his cousin, Mrs.
Spence, who, herself a suspected person, was much taken aback by
the sight of him, and hastily sent a letter to a tenant farmer living
near the town, to provide the fugitive with a horse which would
carry him to Wemyss, a seaport town on the way to Edinburgh.
The old University city does not appear to have made a favourable
impression on the Chevalier. He declares that no town 'ever
deserved so much the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah,'1 and this, not
from any particular wickedness on the part of the inhabitants, but
because they were supposed to be Calvinists. However, his senti-
ments must have been confirmed when the farmer declined to take
his horses out on a Sunday, and, lame as he was, J ohnstone had no
choice but to set out on foot for Wemyss. Halfway, he suddenly
remembered that close by lived an old servant of his family, married
to the gardener of Mr. Beaton, of Balfour. Here he was housed and
fed for twenty hours, and then conducted by his host, a rigid Pres-
'P. 274.


JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN 203
byterian, to a tavern at Wemyss, kept by the mother-in-law of the
gardener. By her advice they applied to a man named Salmon,
who, though a rabid Hanoverian, could be trusted not to betray
those who had faith in him. It was hard work to gain over Salmon,
who was proof against bribery, but at last it was done. By his
recommendation Johnstone was to lie till dawn in a cave near
Wemyss (a place whose name means ' caves '), and with the first
ray of light was to beg a passage to Leith from some men who were
with Salmon part owners of a boat. In this cave, which, notwith-
standing its narrow entrance, was deep and spacious, the Chevalier
was glad to repose his weary bones. But, after dozing about an
hour, he was ' awakened by the most horrible and alarming cries
that ever were heard.' 1 His first thought was that Salmon had
betrayed him, and he retreated to the interior of the cavern, cocked
his pistol, and prepared to sell his life dearly. Soon, however, the
swift movements accompanying the noise convinced him that it
did not proceed from men, for ' sometimes the object was about
my ears, and nearly stunned me, and, in an instant, at a consider-
able distance. At length I ceased to examine any more this horrible
and incomprehensible phenomenon, which made a noise in con-
fusion like that of a number of trumpets and drums, with a mixture
of different sounds, altogether unknown to me.'
effectually aroused by the whining of the owls and bats (for
these, of course, were the authors of all this disturbance), Johnstone
fixed his eyes on the sea to note the first entrance of the fishing
boats into the harbour. He then went down to the shore and
began to make the bargain as directed by Salmon, and the fisher-
men agreed to land him at Leith for half-a-crown. But alas I
once more his hopes were blighted. He was in the act of stepping
into the boat, when Salmon's wife appeared on the scene, and
forbade her husband to go to Leith that day, still less to take a
stranger there. Neither Salmon nor Johnstone dared insist, for
fear of rousing the woman's suspicions, and after a short retreat
in the cave in order to collect his thoughts, he returned to the
tavern at Wemyss, to consult with the friendly landlady. Thanks ■
to her, and with the help of one or two people to whom she intro-
duced him, Johnstone at last arrived at the house of one Mr. Seton,
whose son had formerly served with Johnstone in the army of the
Prince. Here he remained eight days, vainly seeking to find a
second man who could aid the fisherman who had already promised
■ V. 295.


JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN 205
At last affairs were brought to a crisis, by rumours having got
abroad of the presence of a fugitive on the coast. Things seemed
in a desperate condition, when young Seton threw himself into the
breach, and agreed to help Cousselain, the fisherman, to take the
Chevalier to Leith. They were actually launching the boat when
the inhabitants of the village, alarmed by the noise they made,
raised a cry that a rebel was escaping, and the two oarsmen had
barely time to conceal themselves without being discovered. How-
ever, in flat defiance of everyone's advice, and, as it turned out, in
spite of the drunken state of Cousselain, Johnstone resolved to
repeat the attempt in an hour's time, taking in the end, as he might
have done at the beginning, his place at the oar. For a few
moments they breathed freely; then the wind got up, and the
waves, and, what was perhaps more dangerous, the drunken
Cousselain, who had been placed in the bottom of the boat. 'We
were obliged to kick him most unmercifully in order to keep him
quiet,' observes Johnstone, 'and to threaten to throw him over-
board if he made the least movement. Seton and myself rowed
like galley slaves. We succeeded in landing, about six in the
morning, on a part of the coast a league and a half to the east of
Edinburgh,1 near the battlefield of Gladsmuir.' Here he parted
with his deliverers, tenderly embracing young Seton, and presenting
to the 'somewhat sober' Cousselain a gratification beyond his
hopes.
After taking a little of the food with which Mr. Seton had pro-
vided him, he determined to seek refuge for a few days with an old
governess, Mrs. Blythe, wife of a small shipowner at Leith. Blythe
himself was another of the many 'rigid Calvinists and sworn
enemies of the house of Stuart ' to whom Johnstone entrusted his
safety during his wanderings, and never once had occasion to repent
it. Mr. Blythe, indeed, combined the profession of Calvinist with
that of smugglers and had numerous hiding places in his house for
the concealment of contraband goods, which would prove equally
serviceable, as Johnstone told him, for 'the most contraband and
dangerous commodity that he had ever had in his possession.'
Though Johnstone had reached the goal of his desires, his perils
were by no means at an end. English soldiers visited the house,
and could with difficulty be persuaded to admit the exemption
pleaded by Mr. Blythe. In consequence of this event, Johnstone
accepted the offer of an asylum made him by Lady Jane Douglas,
1 P. 308.


206 JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN
in her place at Drumsheugh, half a league away. So his dream
came true, and after all his wanderings he was safe with Lady Jane,
telling the story of his adventures. He remained with her for two
months, unknown to anyone but his hostess and the gardener,
reading all day, and only taking a walk at night, when the house-
hold was in bed. At the end of that time, when Lady Jane and his
father were of opinion that he might safely go to London, and
thence abroad, fresh rumours as to his whereabouts began to arise,
and fearing the immediate visit of a detachment of English soldiers,
he was concealed for a whole day under a huge Haycock, so over-
come by the heat that he could hardly breathe, in spite of a bottle
of water and another of wine, with which he was provided.
This measure, which after all was needless, for no soldiers
came, was the last trial he had to undergo before leaving Scot-
land, and here we must part from him. In France, which he
made his home, he became the friend of many eminent men, and
was aide-de-camp in Canada to the Marquis de Montcalm. But
the end of his life was sad, and he died in poverty.1
1 From Memoirs of the Chevalier de Johnstone. Longmans. London, 1822. The
Memoirs were written in French, and deposited in the Scots College at Paris. They
were communicated to Messrs. Longman by Robert Watson, the adventurer, who, under
Napoleon, was Principal of the Scots College. The Chevalier left a granddaughter, who
corresponded on the subject of the Memoirs with Sir Walter Scott.


207
THE ADVENTURES OF LORD PITSLIGO
HEN Prince Charles came to Scotland in 1745, to seek his
• » grandfather's crown, no braver and no better man rode with
him than Lord Pitsligo. He was now sixty-seven years of age, for
he was born in 1678, ten years before James II, was driven out of
England. As a young man he had lived much in France, where
he became the friend of the famous Fenelon, author of 'Loud mouth much interested in the doctrines of Fenelon, Lord Pitsligo
did not change his faith, but remained a member of the persecuted
Episcopal Church of Scotland. In France he met the members of
the exiled royal family, whom he never ceased to regard as his lawful
monarchs, though Queen Anne, and later the First and Second
Georges, occupied the throne of England. When the clans rose for
King James, the son of James II., in 1715, Lord Pitsligo, then a man of
twenty-seven, joined the forces under his kinsman, Lord Marr. His
party was defeated, and he went abroad. He did not stay long with
James in Rome, but was allowed to return to his estates in Scotland.
Here he lived very quietly, beloved by rich and poor. But, in
1745, Prince Charles landed, and the old Lord believed it to be his
duty to join him. He had, as he says, no keen enthusiasm for the
Stuarts, but to his mind they were his lawful rulers. So aged was
he, and so infirm, that, when he left a neighbour's house before set-
ting out, a little boy brought a stool to help him to mount his horse.
'My little fellow, he said, ' this is the severest reproof I have yet
met with, for presuming to go on such an expedition.' Lady
Pitsligo in vain reminded him of the failure of 1715. 'There never
was a bridal,' he replied, 'but the second day was the best.' The
gentlemen of his county thought that they could not do wrong in
following so learned and excellent a man, so they all mounted the
white cockade and rode with him. He arrived just too late for the
victory of Preston Pans. 'It seemed,' said an eye-witness, ' as if


208
THE ADVENTURES OF LORDPITSLIGO
religion, virtue, and justice were entering the camp under the ap-
pearance of this venerable old man.' When he wrote home, he said,
'I had occasion to discover the Prince's humanity, I ought to say
tenderness: this is giving myself no great airs, for he showed the

same dispositions to everybody.' In the fatigues of the campaign,
the Prince, who was young and strong, insisted on Lord Pitsligo's
using his carriage, while he himself marched on foot at the head of
his army.
After the defeat of Culloden, Lord Pitsligo hid among the moun-


210 THE ADVENTURES OF LORD PITSLIGO
to Lord Pitsligo's cave. She said, 'That travelling body will go
with you,' and Lord Pitsligo conducted the soldiers to his hiding
place, left them there, and walked back to the farm. But the follow-
ing adventure was perhaps his narrowest escape.
In March 1756, and of course long after all apprehension of a
search had ceased, information having been given to the then com-
manding officer at Fraserburgh, that Lord Pitsligo was at that
moment in the house of Auchiries, it was acted upon with so much
promptness and secrecy, that the search must have proved suc-
cessful but for a very singular occurrence. Mrs. Sophia Donald-
son, a lady who lived much with the family, repeatedly dreamt on
that particular night that the house was surrounded by soldiers.
Her mind became so haunted with the idea, that she got out of bed,
and was walking through the room inhopes of givinga different current
to her thoughts before she lay down again, when, day beginning to
dawn, she accidentally looked out at the window as she passed it in
traversing the room, and was astonished at actually observing the
figures of soldiers among some trees near the house. So completely
had all idea of a search been by that time laid asleep, that she sup-
posed they had come to steal poultry; Jacobite poultry-yards afford-
ing a safe object of pillage for the English soldiers in those days.
Under this impression Mrs. Sophia was proceeding to rouse the
servants, when her sister having awaked, and inquiring what was
the matter, and being told of soldiers near the house, exclaimed, in
great alarm, that she feared they wanted something more than hens.
She begged Mrs. Sophia to look out at a window on the other side
of the house, when not only soldiers were seen in that direction,
but also an officer giving instructions by signals, and frequently
putting his fingers on his lips, as if enjoining silence. There was
now no time to be lost in rousing the family, and all the haste that
could be made was scarcely sufficient to hurry the venerable man
from his bed, into a small recess behind the wainscot of an adjoin-
ing room, which was concealed by a bed, in which a lady, Miss
Gordon of Towie, who was there on a visit, lay, before the soldiers
obtained admission. A most minute search took place. The room
in which Lord Pitsligo was concealed did not escape : Miss Gordon's
bed was carefully examined, and she was obliged to suffer the rude
scrutiny of one of the party, by feeling her chin, to ascertain that it
was not a man in a lady's night-dress. Before the soldiers had
finished their examination in this room, the confinement and
anxiety increased Lord Pitsligo's asthma so much, and his breath-


THE ADVENTURES OF LORD PITSLIGO 211
ing became so loud, that it obliged Miss Gordon, lying in bed, to
counterfeit and continue a violent coughing, in order to prevent the
high breathing behind the wainscot from being heard. It may
easily be conceived what agony she would suffer, lest, by overdoing
her part, she should increase suspicion, and in fact lead to a dis-
covery. The ruse was fortunately successful. On the search
through the house being given over, Lord Pitsligo was hastily taken
from his confined situation, and again replaced in bed; and as soon

as he was able to speak, his accustomed kindness of heart made him
say to his servant, 'James, go and see that these poor fellows get
some breakfast, and a drink of warm ale, for this is a cold morning;
they are only doing their duty, and cannot bear me any ill-will.'
When the family were felicitating each other on his escape, he
pleasantly observed, 'A poor prize had they obtained it—an old
dying man!' That the friends who lived in the house,—the hourly
witnesses of his virtues, and the objects of his regard, who saw him
p 2


213
THE ESCAPE OF CAESAR'SFROM THE
CASTLE OF MEDINA DEL CAMPO
m^SAB BORGIA forms, with his father Pope Alexander VI., and his
|_V sister Luorezia, one of a trio who have become a proverb for infamy
of every kind. His father, Boderigo, was by birth a Spaniard, and by
education a lawyer, in which profession he gained much distinction, till
suddenly, with an impetuosity strange in a man who did everything by
calculation, he threw up his legal career for that of a soldier. But the
rough life was repugnant to one of his temperament, which demanded
ease and luxury, so after a little active service, when his courage, during
some sharp engagements, was proved beyond a doubt, he abandoned the
army also, and retired to live in comfort on the large fortune lately be-
queathed to him by his father.
It required some pressing on the part of his uncle, Calixtus in., recently made Pope, to induce him to leave his native land and his
secular existence, for Italy and a Cardinalate. Jut no sooner did he
occupy his new position, than a set of base qualities, which had hitherto
lain dormant, suddenly developed themselves, and from this moment
he became one of the cleverest and most successful hypocrites of his
age.
It was in 1492, the year that saw the landing of Columbus in
America, and the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent at Florence, that the
Cardinal Borgia obtained, by means of huge bribes, his election to the
Papal Throne, and took the name of Alexander VI. His first care was
to establish (for his own credit's sake) order and security in Rome, and
this done, he turned his thoughts to the aggrandisement of his family.
For when Boderigo sailed for Italy he was shortly followed by his four
children, Francis, Cajsar, Lucrezia and Geoffrey, and their mother Bosa
Vanozza. All four, but more particularly Cffisar and Lucrezia, inherited
in the highest degree their father's beauty, talents and wickedness.
Honours of every kind were showered upon them, marriages made and
made to suit the requirements of the moment, murders committed to
ensure them wealth and possessions. For eleven years the roll of crime
grew heavier day by day, till at last the chastisement came, and the


214
THE ESCAPE OF CJESAR BORGIA
Borgias, who had invited several of the Cardinals to supper for the pur-
pose of poisoning them and seizing on their revenues, were themselves
served with the draught they had intended for their guests. The Pope
died after eight days, in mortal agony, but, owing to his having drunk
less of the wine, Caesar slowly recovered, and resumed his old trade of
arms. The talents which had made him one of the first captains in
Italy caused him to be the dread of all his enemies, and finally led to
his capture (by violation of a safe-conduct), at the hands of Gonsalvo de
Cordova, Captain of the Forces of Ferdinand of Spain.]
It was in June 1504 that Caesar Borgia, General of the Church
and Duke of Romagna and Valentinois, was conducted to the
Castle of Medina del Campo in Spain. For two years Caesar waited
in prison, hoping that his old ally, Louis XII., whose cousin Mile.
d'Albret he had married, would come to his assistance. But he
waited in vain and his courage began to give way, when one day
something happened which proved to him that he had still one
friend left, his faithful Michelotto, a soldier of fortune who had fol-
lowed him to Spain, and was now hidden in the neighbourhood of
the prison. It was breakfast time, and Caesar was in the act of
cutting his bread when he suddenly touched a hard substance, and
found a file, and a small bottle containing a narcotic, and a note
concealed in the loaf. The note was from Michelotto, and in-
formed Caesar that he and the Count of Benevento would hide
themselves every night on the road between the castle and the
village, in company with three good horses, and that he must make
the best use he could of the file and the sleeping draught.1
Two years' imprisonment had weighed too heavily on Caesar
for him to waste a single moment in trying to regain his freedom.
He, therefore, lost no time in beginning to work on one of the bars
of his window, which opened on an inside court, and soon con-
trived to cut through so far, that a violent shake would enable
him to remove it altogether. But the window was nearly seventy
feet above the ground, while the only way of leaving the court
was by a door reserved for the governor alone, the key of which was
always carried about his person. By day it was suspended from
his belt, by night it was under his bolster. To gain possession of
this key was the most difficult part of the matter.
Now in spite of the fact that he was a prisoner, Caesar had
invariably been treated with all the respect due to his name and
rank. Every day at the dinner hour, he was conducted from the
1 What follows is translated from Dumas.


THE ESCAPE OF CMSAR BORGIA 215
room in which he was confined to the governor's apartments and
was received by him as an honoured guest. Don Manuel himself
was an old soldier who had served with distinction under Ferdinand,
and, while carrying out punctually his orders for Caesar's safe cus-
tody, he admired his military talents, and listened with pleasure to
the story of his fights. He had often desired that Caesar should
breakfast as well as dine with him, but, luckily for himself, the
prisoner, perhaps aided by some presentiment, had always refused
this favour. It was owing to his solitude that he was able to
conceal the instruments for his escape sent by Michelotto.
Now it happened that the very same day that he had received
them, Caesar contrived to stumble, and twist his foot as he was re-
turning to his room. When the hour of dinner came he tried to
go down, but declared that walking hurt him so much, that he
should be obliged to give it up, so the governor paid him a visit
instead, and found him stretched on his bed.
The next day Caesar was no better; his dinner was ordered to
be served upstairs, and the governor paid him a visit as before. He
found his prisoner so dull and bored with his own company, that
he offered to come and share his supper. Caesar accepted the offer
with gratitude and joy.
This time it was the prisoner who did the honours of the table,
and Caesar was particularly charming and courteous in manner.
The governor seized the opportunity of putting some questions as
to his capture, and inquired, with the pride of a Castilian noble,
who set honour above all, what was the exact truth as to the way in
which Gonsalvo de Cordova and Ferdinand had broken their faith
with him. Caesar showed every disposition to give him satisfaction
on this point, but indicated by a sign that he could not speak freely
before the valets. This precaution was so natural, that the governor
could not seem offended at it, and dismissed his attendants, so that
he and his companion remained alone. When the door was shut,
Caesar filled his glass and that of the governor, and proposed the
king's health. The governor emptied his glass at once, and Caesar
began his story, but he had hardly told a third of it, when in spite
of its exciting adventures, the eyes of his guest closed as if by magic,
and his head fell on the table in a deep sleep.
At the end of half-an-hour, the servants, not hearing any noise,
entered the room, and found the two boon companions, one on the
table and the other under it. There was nothing very unusual
about such an event to excite their suspicions, so they contented


210
THE ESCAPE OF CMSAR BORGIA
themselves with carrying Don Manuel to his chamber and laying
Caesar on his bed; they then locked the door with great care, leaving
the prisoner alone.
For a minute or two longer Caesar lay still, apparently plunged

in a profound slumber, but when the sound of footsteps had com-
pletely died away, he softly raised his head, opened his eyes, and
moved towards the door, rather slowly it is true, but without seem-
ing to feel any ill-effects from his accident on the previous day. He


THE ESCAPE OF C&SAR BORGIA 217
stood still for a few seconds with his ear at the keyhole, then, rais-
ing himself, with a strange expression of triumph on his face, he
passed his hand over his forehead, and, for the first time since the
guards had left the room, breathed freely.
But there was no time to be lost, and without a moment's delay
he fastened the door from the inside as securely as it was fastened
without. He next extinguished his lamp, threw open his window,
and finished cutting through the bar. This done, he took off the
bandages tied round his leg, tore down the curtains, both of his
window and his bed, and made them into strips, adding to them
sheets, table cloths, napkins, and whatever else he could lay hands
on. At last he had a rope between fifty and sixty feet long, which
he secured firmly at one end to the bar next to the one that he had
sawn away, and mounting on the window-ledge, he began the most
dangerous part of his expedition in trusting himself to this frail
support. Happily, Caesar was as strong as he was agile, and slid
down the whole length of the cord without accident; but when he
had reached the very end, in vain he tried to touch the earth with
his feet. The rope was too short.
Caesar's position was terrible. The darkness of the night pre-
venting his knowing how far he might be above the ground, and
his exertions had so fatigued him that he could not have gone back
even had he wished. There was no help for it, and, after muttering
a short prayer, he let go the rope, and fell, a distance of twelve or
fifteen feet.
The danger he had escaped was too great for the fugitive to
mind some slight bruises caused by his fall, so he jumped up, and
taking his bearings, made straight for the little door which stood
between him and freedom. When he reached it he felt in his pocket
for the key, and a cold sweat broke out on his face as he found it
was not there. Had he forgotten it in his room, or had he lost it
in his descent?
Collecting his thoughts as well as he could, he soon came to the
conclusion that it must have fallen out of his pocket as he climbed
down the rope. So he made his way a second time cautiously
across the court, trying to discover the exact spot where it might
be, by the aid of the wall of a cistern, which he had caught hold of
to raise himself from the ground. But the lost key was so small
and so insignificant, that there was little chance that he would ever
see it. However, it was his last resource, and Caesar was searching
for it with all his might, when suddenly a door opened and the


218
THE ESCAPE OF CMSAR BORGIA
night patrol came out, preceded by two torches. At first Caesar gave himself up for lost, then, remembering the water-butt that was
behind him, he at once plunged into it up to his neck, watching
with intense anxiety the movements of the soldiers who were ad-
vancing towards his hiding place. They passed him within a few
feet, crossed the court, and vanished through the door opposite ; but,
though all this had taken such a very short time, the light of the
torches had enabled Caesar to distinguish the key lying on the
ground, and hardly had the gate closed on the soldiers when he was
once more master of his liberty.
Half-way between the castle and the village the Count of Bene-
vento and Michelotto awaited him with a led horse. Caesar flung
himself on its back and all three set out for Navarre, where, after
three days' hard riding, they found an asylum with the king, Jean
d'Albret, brother of Caesar's wife.


219
THE KIDNAPPING OF THE PRINCES
(The following story is adapted from Carlyle's
Essay, ' The Prinzenraub ')
about the year 1455, one of the Electors of Saxony, Friedrich
der Sanftmiitige (Frederick the Mild), quarrelled with a
certain knight named Konrad von Kaufungen. Friedrich had
hired Konrad, or Kunz as he was called, to fight for him in a war
against another Elector. In one of the battles, Kunz was taken
prisoner. To ransom himself he was obliged to pay 4,000 gold
gulden, for which he thought Friedrich ought to repay him. Fried-
rich refused to do so, as Kunz was not his vassal whom he was
bound to protect, but only a hired soldier who had to take all risks
on himself. Kunz was very angry, and threatened to revenge him-
self on the Elector, who took all his threats very calmly, saying to
him, ' Keep cool, Kunz; don't burn the fish in the ponds.' But
Kunz was in bitter earnest. He went away to an old castle called
Isenburg in Bohemia, on the Saxon frontier, where he lived for some
time with his two squires, Mosen and Schonberg, plotting against
the Elector and his family. He had, moreover, bribed one of the
Elector's servants, Hans Schwalbe, to tell him all that was being
done in his castle of Altenburg. In July, Schwalbe sent word to
him that, on the seventh day of the month, the Elector and most of
his followers were going away to Leipzig, and would leave the
Electress and his two boys, Ernst and Albrecht, guarded only by a
few servants, and these, he added, would probably spend the even-
ing drinking in the town. Now the castle of Altenburg was built
on a steep hill, and one side of it overhung a precipice. As this
side was little guarded, Hans agreed to letdown a rope-ladder from
one of the windows, and thus enable Kunz to get an entrance into
the castle. His plan then was to make his way to the sleeping
room of the two little princes, carry them off to his castle at Isen-


220 THE KIDNAPPING OF THE PRINCES
burg, and keep them till their father should grant his demands.
Isenburg Castle was about a day's journey from the little town of
Altenburg; so Kunz and his two squires, Mosen and Schonberg, and
a few other men, started early on the 7th to ride to Altenburg,
and when they reached it, they hid themselves till nightfall.
About midnight Kunz and his men went as quietly as possible to
the foot of the cliff. Everyone seemed asleep in the castle, and
outside no sound was to be heard but the stealthy tramp of the
armed men. When they reached the rendezvous under the castle,
Kunz gave his men their orders. Mosen, Schonberg, and three or
four more were to come with him into the castle, and, when inside,
to lock the doors of the Electress's and the servants' room, while
the rest were to guard the gates in order that no one should escape
to give the alarm. Each was to be ready when once the princes
were secured to ride away for Isenburg as hard as possible.
Then Kunz whistled softly. He listened for a moment; an-
other whistle answered his own, and a rope-ladder was slowly
lowered from one of the windows. Kunz mounted it, and made his
way to the room where the two little princes were sleeping under
the charge of an old governess. He seized the eldest, a boy of
fourteen, and carried him down the ladder, and Mosen followed
with a second child in his arms. This boy kept calling out, 'I am
not one of the princes; I am their playfellow, Count von Bardi.
Let me go! Let me go!' Thereupon, telling the others to ride on
with Prince Ernst in order to secure him, Kunz dashed up the
ladder again, and ran to the princes' room, where he found little
Prince Albrecht hiding under the bed. He caught him up and
descended again with him. As he went, the Electress, roused by
the boys' cries and finding her door bolted, rushed to the window
and begged and implored him not to take her children.
'My husband shall grant all your demands, I swear to you,' she
cried, 'only leave me my children!'
'Tell the Elector, Madam,' laughed Kunz, looking up, 'that I
can burn the fish in the ponds!'
Then he mounted his horse, which his servant was holding, and
away they rode as fast as the horses would carry them. They had
not ridden many miles before the clang of bells broke on their ears.
The alarm peal of the castle had awakened that of the town, and
in a few hours every bell in every belfry in Saxony was ringing an
alarm. The sun rose, and Kunz and his followers plunged deeper
into the forest, riding through morasses and swamps, over rough


THE KIDNAPPING OF THE PRINCES 221
and stony ground—anywhere to escape from the din of those alarm
bells. At last the ride for dear life was nearly over; the band was
within an hour's journey of the castle of Isenburg, when Prince
Albrecht declared that he was dying of thirst.
'For the love of Heaven, give me something to drink, Sir
Knight,' he implored.
Kunz bade the others ride on, and giving his squire his horse to
hold he dismounted, lifted Albrecht down, and began looking for
bilberries for him.
Whilst he was doing so, a charcoal-burner with his dog came
up. He was much surprised to see such grand people in the forest,
and asked,
'What are you doing with the young lord?'
'He has run away from his parents,' answered Kunz, impa-
tiently. 'Can you tell me where bilberries are to be found here?'
'I do not know,' replied the charcoal-burner, still staring at the
strangers.
Anxious to make him leave them, Kunz turned angrily round
on him, and in doing so caught his spurs in the bushes, and fell flat
on his face.
Albrecht caught hold of the charcoal-burner's arm.
'Save me!' he whispered eagerly. 'I am the Elector's son;
this man has stolen me!'
The squire struck at the Prince with his sword, but the charcoal-
burner warded aside the blow with his long pole, and felled the
man to the ground. Kunz fought fiercely with him, but in answer
to his summons for help, and attracted by the barking of the dog, a
number of other charcoal-burners appeared on the scene to help
their comrade, and Kunz was disarmed and taken prisoner. They
marched him in triumph to the monastery of Griinheim, where he
was secured in one of the cells, and in a few days was sent to
Freiburg. On the 14th he was tried and condemned to death.
It is said that a pardon was sent by the Elector, but if it were so
it arrived too late, and Kunz was beheaded.
The rest of the robber-band with Prince Ernst did not fare
much better. The alarm bells had aroused the whole country; six
of the men were captured, and Mosen and the others with Prince
Ernst took refuge in a cave near Zwickau. Not daring to venture
out, and half starving for want of food, they lay there for three days
in wretched plight. Then they learned accidentally from some
woodmen, whose conversation they overheard, that Kunz had been


THE KIDNAPPING OF THE PRINCES 223
Georg der Timer (the Driller), and his descendants took this name
as their surname. The only reward he would accept for his brave
deed was leave for himself and his family to eat what wood they
needed in the forest in which he lived.
The Electress and the two princes made a pilgrimage to the
shrine at the monastery of Ebersdorf, and there in the church they
hung up the coats which they and Kunz and the 'Triller' had
worn on the memorable night when they were kidnapped, and
there it is said they may be seen at this day.


224
THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
ONG ago, when Henry VIII. was King of England and Charles V.
was King of Spain, there lived a young Spanish cavalier
whose name was Hernando Cortes. His father, Don Martin Cortes,
sent him to Salamanca when he was about fourteen years old, in-
tending to have him educated as a lawyer. But Hernando cared
nothing for books, and after wasting two years at college returned
home, to the great annoyance of his parents, who were glad enough
when, after another year of idleness, he proposed to go and seek his
fortune in the New World so lately discovered by Columbus. An
exploring expedition was just being fitted out, and Hernando Cortes
had quite made up his mind to join it, when he unluckily fell from
a high wall which he was climbing, and before he had recovered
from his injuries the ships had sailed without him. Two more
years did he remain at home after this misadventure, but at length,
when he was nineteen years old, he joined a small fleet bound for the
Indian Islands. The vessel in which he sailed was commanded
by one Alonso Quintero, who, when they reached the Canary Islands,
and all the other vessels were detained by taking in supplies, stole out
of the harbour under cover of the night, meaning to reach Hispaniola
before his companions, and so secure a better chance of trading.
However, he met with a furious storm, and was driven back to the
port with his ship dismasted and battered. The rest of the fleet
generously consented to wait while his ship was being refitted, and
after a short delay they set out again, but so soon as they neared
the islands, the faithless Quintero again gave his companions the
slip, but with no better success, for he met with such heavy gales
that he entirely lost his reckoning, and for many days they tossed
about helplessly, until one morning they were cheered by the sight
of a white dove, which settled upon the rigging. Taking the direc-
The Youth of Cortes


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 225
tion of the bird's flight, they soon reached Hispaniola, where the
captain had the satisfaction of finding all the other ships had
arrived before him, and had sold all their cargoes. Cortes, as
soon as he landed, went to see Ovando, the governor of the island,
whom he had known in Spain, and presently was persuaded by him
to accept a grant of land and settle down to cultivate it, though at
first he said, ' I came to get gold, not to till the ground like a
peasant.' So six years passed, during which the monotony of Cortes's
life was only broken by occasional expeditions against the natives,
in which he learned to endure toil and danger, and became familiar
with the tactics of Indian warfare. At length, in 1511, when
Diego Velasquez, the governor's lieutenant, undertook the conquest
of Cuba, Cortes gladly accompanied him, and throughout the expe-
dition made himself a favourite both with the commander and the
soldiers. But when later on there arose discontent over the dis-
tribution of lands and offices, the malcontents fixed upon Cortes as
the most suitable person to go back to Hispaniola, and lay their
grievances before the higher authorities. This came to the ears
of Velasquez, however, and he at once seized Cortes, whom he
loaded with fetters and threw into prison. Luckily he soon suc-
ceeded in freeing himself from the irons, and letting himself down
from the window took refuge in the nearest church, where he claimed
the right of sanctuary. Velasquez, who was very angry at his
escape, stationed a guard with orders to seize Cortes if he should
leave the sanctuary, and this he was soon careless enough to do.
As he stood outside the church an officer suddenly sprang upon
him from behind, and made him prisoner once more. This time
he was carried on board a ship which was to sail the next morning
for Hispaniola, where he was to be tried, but again he managed
to escape by dragging his feet through the rings which fettered
them, and dropping silently over the ship's side into a little boat
under cover of the darkness. As he neared the shore the water
became so rough that the boat was useless, and he was forced to
swim the rest of the way; but at last he got safely to land, and
again took refuge in the church. After this he married a lady
named Catalina Xuarez, and by the aid of her family managed to
make his peace with Velasquez. Cortes now received a large
estate near St. Jago, where he lived prosperously for some years,
and even amassed a considerable sum of money. But at last news
came of an exploring expedition which had set out in 1518 under
Grijalva, the nephew of Velasquez. He had touched at various
Q


226 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
places on the Mexican coast, and had held a friendly conference
with one cacique, or chief, who seemed desirous of collecting all
the information he could about the Spaniards, and their motives in
visiting Mexico, that he might transmit it to his master, the Aztec
emperor. Presents were exchanged at this interview, and in
return for a few glass beads, pins, and such paltry trifles, the
Spaniards had received such a rich treasure of jewels and gold
ornaments that the general at once sent back one of his ships under
the command of Don Pedro de Alvarado to convey the spoil, and
acquaint the governor of Cuba with the progress of the expedition,
and also with all the information he had been able to glean re-
specting the Aztec emperor and his dominions. Now in those
days nothing whatever was known about the interior of the country
or of its inhabitants— it was as strange to the explorers as another
planet.
The Wonders of Mexico
This was what they had to tell the governor. Far away to-
wards the Pacific Ocean there stood, in a beautiful and most fertile
valley, the capital of a great and powerful empire, called by its in-
habitants ' Tenochtitlan,' but known to the Europeans only by its
other name of' Mexico,' derived from 'Mexitli,' the war-god of the
Aztecs. These Aztecs seem to have come originally from the
north, and after many wanderings to have halted at length on the
south-western borders of a great lake, of which there were several
in the Mexican valley. This celebrated valley was situated at a
height of about 7,500 feet above the sea, and was oval in form,
about 67 leagues in circumference, and surrounded by towering
rocks, which seemed to be meant to protect it from invasion. It
was in the year 1325 that the Aztecs paused upon the shore of the
lake, and saw, as the sun rose, a splendid eagle perched upon a
prickly pear which shot out of a crevice in the rock. It held a
large serpent in its claws, and its broad wings were opened towards
the rising sun. The Aztecs saw in this a most favourable omen,
and there and then set about building themselves a city, laying its
foundations upon piles in the marshy ground beside the lake, and
to this day the eagle and the cactus form the arms of the Mexican
republic.
The little body of settlers increased rapidly in number and power,
and made their name terrible throughout the valley, in which various
other tribes had long been settled, until at last they united them-


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 227
selves with the king of the Tezcucans, to aid him against a tribe
called the Tepanecs, who had invaded his territory. The allies were
completely successful, and this led to an agreement between the

states of Mexico, Tezcuco, and Tlacopan, that they should support
each other in all their wars, and divide all the spoils between them.
This alliance remained unbroken for over a hundred years and
Q 2


228 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
under a succession of able princes the Aztec dominion grew, till at
the coming of the Spaniards it reached across the continent, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. The Aztecs had many wise laws and
institutions, and were indeed in some respects a highly civilised
community. When their emperor died a new one was chosen from
among his sons or nephews, by four nobles. The one preferred was
obliged to have distinguished himself in war, and his coronation did
not take place until a successful campaign had provided enough
captives to grace his triumphal entry into the capital, and enough
victims for the ghastly sacrifices which formed an important part of
all their religious ceremonies. Communication was held with the
remotest parts of the country by means of couriers, who, trained to
it from childhood, travelled with amazing swiftness. Post-houses
were established on the great roads, and the messenger bearing his
despatches in the form of hieroglyphical paintings, ran to the first
station, where they were taken by the next messenger and carried
forward, being sent in one day a hundred or two hundred miles.
Thus fish was served at the banquets of the emperor Montezuma
which twenty-four hours before had been caught in the Gulf of
Mexico, two hundred miles away. Thus too the news was carried
when any war was going on, and as the messengers ran to acquaint
the court with the movements of the royal armies, the people by the
way knew whether the tidings were good or bad by the dress of
the courier, but the training of warriors was the chief end and
aim of all Aztec institutions. Their principal god was the god of
war, and one great object of all their expeditions was the capture
of victims to be sacrificed upon his altars. They believed that the
soldier who fell in battle was transported at once to the blissful
regions of the sun, and they consequently fought with an utter dis-
regard of danger. The dress of the warriors was magnificent.
Their bodies were protected by a vest of quilted cotton, impervious
to light missiles, and over this the chiefs wore mantles of gor-
geous feather-work, and the richer of them a kind of cuirass of gold
or silver plates. Their helmets were of wood, fashioned like the
head of some wild animal, or of silver surmounted by plumes of
variously coloured feathers, sprinkled with precious stones, beside
which they wore many ornaments of gold, and their banners were
embroidered with gold and feather-work.
The Aztecs worshipped thirteen principal gods, and more than two
hundred of less importance, each of whom, however, had his day of
festival, which was duly observed. At the head of all stood the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 229
war-god, the terrible Huitzilopochtli, whose fantastic image was
loaded with costly ornaments, and whose temples, in every city of
the empire, were the most splendid and stately. The Aztecs also
had a legend that there had once dwelt upon the earth the great
Quetzalcoatl, god of the air, under whose sway all things had
flourished and all people had lived in peace and prosperity; but he
had in some way incurred the wrath of the principal gods, and was
compelled to leave the country. On his way he stopped at the city
of Cholula, where a temple was dedicated to him, of which the
great ruins remain to this day. When he reached the shores of the
Mexican Gulf has embarked in his magic boat, made of serpents'
skins, for the fabulous land of Tlapallan, but before he bade his
followers farewell he promised that he and his descendants would
one day come again. The Aztecs confidently looked forward to the
return of their benevolent god, who was said to have been tall in
stature, with a white skin, long dark hair, and a flowing beard, and
this belief of theirs prepared the way, as you will presently see, for
the success of Cortes.1 The Mexican temples, or teocallis as they
were called—which means ' Houses of God '—were very numerous,
there being several hundreds of them in each of the principal cities.
They looked rather like the Egyptian pyramids, and were divided
into four or five stories, each one being smaller than the one below
it, and the ascent was by a flight of steps at an angle of the pyramid.
This led to a sort of terrace at the base of the second story, which
passed quite round the building to another flight of steps imme-
diately over the first, so that it was necessary to go all round the
temple several times before reaching the summit. The top was a
broad space on which stood two towers, forty or fifty feet high,
which contained the images of the gods. Before these towers stood
the dreadful stone of sacrifice, and two lofty altars on which the
sacred fires burned continually. Human sacrifices were adopted
by the Aztecs, about two hundred years before the coming of the
Spaniards. Rare at first, they became more and more frequent
till at length nearly every festival closed with this cruel abomina-
tion. The unhappy victim was held by five priests upon the stone
of sacrifice, while the sixth, who was clothed in a scarlet mantle,
emblematic of his horrible office, cut open his breast with a sharp
razor of' itztli,' a volcanic substance as hard as flint, and tearing
1 In 1121 Bishop Eric left Iceland for Vinland, part of America discovered by Leif the Lucky (1000-1002). Bishop Eric was heard of no more. Can he have reached the
Aztecs, and been regarded as a god?


230 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
out his heart, held it first up to the sun, which they worshipped,
and then cast it at the feet of the god to whom the temple was
devoted; and to crown the horror, the body of the captive thus
sacrificed was afterwards given to the warrior who had taken him
in battle, who thereupon gave a great banquet and served him up
amid choice dishes and delicious beverages for the entertainment of
his friends. When the great teocalli of Huitzilopochtli was dedi-
cated in the year 1486, no less than 70,000 prisoners were thus
sacrificed, and in the whole kingdom every year the victims were
never fewer than 20,000, or, as some old writers say, 50,000.
The Aztec writing was not with letters and words, but consisted of
little coloured pictures, each of which had some special meaning.
Thus a ' tongue' denoted speaking, a ' footprint' travelling, a ' man
sitting on the ground ' an earthquake. As a very slight difference
in position or colour intimated a different meaning, this writing
was very difficult to read, and in the Aztec colleges the priests
specially taught it to their pupils. At the time of the coming of the
Spaniards there were numbers of people employed in this picture-
writing, but unfortunately hardly any of the manuscripts were pre-
served ; for the Spaniards, looking upon them as magic scrolls, caused
them to be burned by thousands. In many mechanical arts the
Aztecs had made considerable progress. Their ground was well culti-
vated, they had discovered and used silver, lead, tin, and copper.
Gold, which was found in the river-beds, they cast into bars, or used
as money by filling transparent quills with gold dust. They also
made many fantastic ornaments of gold and silver, and cast gold
and silver vessels, which they carved delicately with chisels. Some
of the silver vases were so large that a man could not encircle them
with his arms. But the art in which they most delighted was the
wonderful feather-work. With the gorgeous plumage of the tropical
birds they could produce all the effect of a beautiful mosaic. The
feathers, pasted upon a fine cotton web, were wrought into dresses
for the wealthy, hangings for their palaces, and ornaments for their
temples.
These then were the people of whomGrijalva sent back to Cuba
a few vague reports, and these, and the accounts of the splendour
of the treasure, spread like wildfire through the island. The
governor having resolved to send out more ships to follow up
these discoveries, looked about him for a suitable person to com-
mand the expedition and share the expenses of it, and being re-
commended by several of his friends to choose Hernando Cortes, he


232 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
you will hear again before the story is finished. Finally, in February
1519, when all the reinforcements were assembled, Cortes found he had
eleven vessels, one hundred and ten mariners, five hundred and fifty-
three soldiers, and two hundred Indians. He also had sixteen horses,
ten large guns, and four lighter, which were called falconets. Cortes,
before embarking, addressed his little army, saying that he held out
to them a glorious prize, and that if any among them coveted riches,
he would make them masters of such as their countrymen had never
dreamed of; and so they sailed away for the coast of Yucatan.
The first thing that happened was that they were overtaken by a
furious tempest, and Cortes was delayed by looking after a disabled
vessel, and so was the last to reach the island of Cozumel. Here he
found that Alvarado, one of his captains, had landed, plundered a
temple, and by his violence caused the natives to fly and hide them-
selves inland.
Cortes, much displeased, severely reprimanded his officer, and,
by the aid of an interpreter, explained his peaceful intentions to two
Indians who had been captured. Then he loaded them with presents,
and sent them to persuade their countrymen to return, which they pre-
sently did, and the Spaniards had the satisfaction of bartering the
trifles they had brought for the gold ornaments of the natives. Next
Cortes sent two ships to the opposite coast of Yucatan, where they
were to despatch some Indians inland, to seek for and ransom the
Christian captives, of whom he had gained some tidings from a
trader, and while they were gone he explored the island, and induced
the natives to declare themselves Christians by the very summary
method of rolling their venerated idols out of their temple, and set-
ting up in their stead an image of the Virgin and Child. When the
Indians saw that no terrible consequences followed, they listened to
the teaching of the good priest, Father Olmedo, who accompanied
the expedition, though it is probable that they did not, after all,
understand much of his instruction. After eight days the two ships
came back, but with no news of the captives, and Cortes sorrow-
fully decided that he could wait no longer. He accordingly took in
provisions and water, and set sail again, but before they had gone far
one of the ships sprang a leak, which obliged them to put back into
the same port. It was lucky that they did, for soon after they
landed a canoe was seen coming from the shore of Yucatan, which
proved to contain one of the long-lost Spaniards, who was called
Aguilas. He had been for eight years a slave among the natives in
the interior, but his master, tempted by the ransom of glass-beads,


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 233
hawk-bells, and such treasures, had consented to release him. When
he reached the coast the ships were gone, but owing to the fortunate
accident of their return, he found himself once more among his
countrymen. Cortes at once saw the importance of having him as
an interpreter, but in the end he proved to be of more use to the
explorers than could have been at first imagined.
Again the fleet set out, and coasted along the Gulf of Mexico
till they reached the mouth of the Rio de Tabasco. Here Cortes
landed, but found that the Indians were hostile, and were drawn
up in great force against him. However, after some hard fighting
the Spaniards were victorious, and having taken possession of the
town of Tabasco, Cortes sent messengers to the chiefs saying that if
they did not at once submit themselves he would ravage the country
with fire and sword. As they had no mind for any more fighting
they came humbly, bringing presents, and among them thirty slaves,
one of whom, a beautiful Mexican girl named Malinche, was after-
wards of the utmost importance to the expedition. She had come
into the possession of the cacique of Tabasco through some traders
from the interior of the country, to whom she had been secretly
sold by her mother, who coveted her inheritance. Cortes now re-
embarked his soldiers and sailed away to the island of San Juan de
Uloa, under the lee of which they anchored, and soon saw the light
pirogues of the Indians coming off to them from the mainland.
They brought presents of fruit and flowers, and little ornaments of
gold which they gladly exchanged for the usual trifles. Cortes
was most anxious to converse with them, but found to his disap-
pointment that Aguilar could not understand their dialect. In this
dilemma he was informed that one of the slaves was a Mexican,
and could of course speak the language. This was Malinche, or as
the Spaniards always called her, ' Marina.' Cortes was so charmed
with her beauty and cleverness that he made her his secretary,
and kept her always with him; and she very soon learned enough
Spanish to interpret for him without the help of Aguilar. But at
first they were both necessary, and by their aid Cortes learned that
his visitors were subjects of Montezuma, the great Aztec emperor,
and were governed by Tenhtlile, one of his nobles. Cortes having
ascertained that there was abundance of gold in the interior,
dismissed them, loaded with presents, to acquaint their governor
with his desire for an interview. The next morning he landed on
the mainland with all his force. It was a level sandy plain, and
the troops employed themselves in cutting down trees and bushes


234 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIBE
to provide a shelter from the weather; in this they were aided by
the natives, who built them huts with stakes and earth, mats and
cotton carpets, and flocked from all the country round to see the
wonderful strangers. They brought with them fruits, vegetables,
flowers in abundance, game, and many dishes cooked after the
fashion of the country; and these they gave to, or bartered with,
the Spaniards. The next day came Tenhtlile, the governor, with a
numerous train, and was met by Cortes, and conducted to his tent

with great ceremony. All the principal officers were assembled,
and after a ceremonious banquet at which the governor was regaled
with Spanish wines and confections, the interpreters were sent for
and a conversation began. Tenhtlile first asked about the country
of the strangers, and the object of their visit. Cortes replied that
he was the subject of a powerful monarch beyond the seas, who had
heard of the greatness of the Mexican emperor, and had sent him
with a present in token of his goodwill, and with a message which
he must deliver in person. He concluded by asking when he could


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE235
be admitted into Montezuma's presence. To this the Aztec noble
replied haughtily,
'How is it that you have been here only two days, and demand
to see the emperor?'
Then he added that he was surprised to hear that there could
be another monarch as powerful as Montezuma, but if it were so
his master would be happy to communicate with him, and that he
would forward the royal gift brought by the Spanish commander,
and so soon as he had learned Montezuma's will would inform him
of it. Tenhtlile then ordered his slaves to bring forward the
present for the Spanish general. It consisted of ten loads of fine
cotton, several mantles of gorgeous feather-work, and a wicker
basket of golden ornaments. Cortes received it with due acknow-
ledgments, and in his turn ordered the presents for Montezuma to
be brought forward. These were an armchair richly carved and
painted, a crimson cloth cap with a gold medal, and a quantity of
collars, bracelets, and other ornaments of cut-glass, which in a
country where glass was unknown were as valuable as real gems.
The Aztec governor observed a soldier in the camp in a shining
gilt helmet, and expressed a wish that Montezuma should see it, as
it reminded him of one worn by the god Quetzalcoatl. Cortes
declared his willingness that the helmet should be sent, and begged
that the emperor would return it filled with the gold dust of the
country, that he might compare its quality with that of his own.
He also said that the Spaniards were troubled with a disease of
the heart, for which gold was a sure remedy. In fact, he made his
want of gold very clear to the governor. While these things were
passing Cortes observed one of Tenhtlile's attendants busy with a
pencil, and on looking at his work he found it was a sketch of the
Spaniards, their costumes, weapons, and all objects of interest being
correctly represented both in form and colour. This was the cele-
brated picture-writing, and the governor said that this man was
drawing all these things for Montezuma, as he would get a much
better idea of their appearance thus. Cortes thereupon ordered
out the cavalry, and caused them to go through their military
exercises upon the firm wet sands of the beach; and the appearance
of the horses—which were absolutely unknown in Mexico—filled
the natives with astonishment, which turned to alarm when the
general ordered the cannon to be fired, and they saw for the first
time the smoke and flame, and beheld the balls crashing among
the trees of the neighbouring forest and reducing them to splinters.


230 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
Nothing of this sort was lost upon the painters, who faithfully
recorded every particular, not omitting the ships—the 'water-
houses,' as they called them—which swung at anchor in the bay.
Finally, the governor departed as ceremoniously as he had come,
leaving orders with his people to supply the Spanish general with
all he might require till further instructions should come from the
emperor.
In the meantime the arrival of the strangers was causing no
small stir in the Mexican capital. A general feeling seems to have
prevailed that the Return of the White God, Quetzalcoatl, was at
hand, and many wonderful signs and occurrences seemed to confirm
the belief.
In 1510 the great lake of Tezcuco, without tempest, earthquake,
or any visible cause, became violently agitated, overflowed its
banks, and, pouring into the streets of Mexico, swept away many
buildings by the fury of its waters. In 1511 one of the towers of
the great temple took fire, equally without any apparent cause, and
continued to burn in defiance of all attempts to extinguish it. In
the following years three comets were seen, and not long before
the coming of the Spaniards a strange light broke forth in the
east, resembling a great pyramid or flood of fire thickly powdered
with stars: at the same time low voices were heard in the air, and
doleful wailings, as if to announce some strange, mysterious cala-
mity. A lady of the Royal house died, was buried, and rose
again, prophesying ruin to come. After the conquest she became a
Christian.
Montezuma, terrified at these apparitions, took counsel of Neza-
hualpilli, King of Tezcuco, who was a great proficient in astrology;
but far from obtaining any comfort from him, he was still further de-
pressed by being told that all these things predicted the speedy down-
fall of his empire. When, therefore, the picture-writings showing
the Spanish invaders reached Montezuma, they caused him great
apprehension, and he summoned the kings of Tezcuco and Tlacopan
to consult with them as to how the strangers should be received.
There was much division of opinion, but finally Montezuma resolved
to send a rich present which should impress them with a high idea
of his wealth and grandeur, while at the same time he would forbid
them to approach the capital. After eight days at the most, which
however seemed a long time to the Spaniards, who were suffering
from the intense heat of the climate, the embassy, accompanied by
the governor Tenhtlile, reached the camp, and presented to Cortes


238 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
the rest was greatly increased by the indifference of the natives,
who no longer brought them such abundant supplies, and demanded
an immense price for what they did provide. After ten days the
Mexican envoys returned, bearing another rich present of stuffs and
gold ornaments, which, though not so valuable as the first, was yet
worth three thousand ounces of gold. Beside this there were four
precious stones, somewhat resembling emeralds, each of which they
assured the Spaniards was worth more than a load of gold, and
was destined as a special mark of respect for the Spanish monarch,
since only the nobles of Mexico were allowed to wear them.
Unfortunately, however, they were of no value at all in Europe.
Montezuma's answer was the same as before. He positively
forbade the strangers to approach nearer to his capital, and requested
them to take the treasure he had bestowed upon them, and return
without delay to their own country. Cortes received this unwelcome
message courteously, but coldly, and turning to his officers ex-
claimed, ' This is a rich and powerful prince indeed, yet it shall go
hard but we will one day pay him a visit in his capital.' Father
Olmedo then tried to persuade the Aztec chiefs to give up their
idol-worship, and endeavoured by the aid of Marina and Aguilar to
explain to them the mysteries of his own faith, but it is probable
that he was not very successful. The chiefs presently withdrew
coldly, and that same night every hut was deserted by the natives,
and the Spaniards were left without supplies in a desolate wilder-
ness. Cortes thought this so suspicious that he prepared for an
attack, but everything remained quiet.
The general now decided to remove his camp to a more healthy
place a little farther along the coast, where the ships could anchor
and be sheltered from the north wind. But the soldiers began to
grumble and be discontented, and to say that it was time to return
with their spoil, and not linger upon those barren shores until they
had brought the whole Mexican nation about their ears. Fortun-
ately at this juncture five Indians made their appearance in the
camp, and were taken to the general's tent. They were quite
different from the Mexicans in dress and appearance, and wore rings of gold and bright blue gems in their ears and nostrils, while
a gold leaf, delicately wrought, was attached to the under lip.
Marina could not understand their language, but luckily she found
that two of them could speak in the Aztec tongue. They explained
that they came from Cempoalla, the chief town of a tribe called the
Totonacs, and that their country had been lately conquered by the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 239
Aztecs, whose oppressions they greatly resented. They also said
that the fame of the Spaniards had reached their master, who had
sent to request them to visit him in his capital. It is easy to ima-
gine how eagerly Cortes listened to this communication, and how
important it was to him. Hitherto, as he knew absolutely nothing
of the state of affairs in the interior of the country, he had supposed
the empire to be strong and united. Now he saw that the discon-
tent of the provinces conquered by Montezuma might be turned to
his own advantage, and that by their aid he might hope to succeed
in his cherished scheme of subduing the emperor himself. He
therefore dismissed the Totonacs with many presents, promising
soon to visit their city. Then with his usual energy and diplomacy
he turned upon the immediate difficulties which beset him—the
discontent of the soldiers, the jealousy of some of his officers, and
the fact that he had no warrant for his ambitious plans in the
commission that he had received from Velasquez. By tact and
cunning he managed to settle everything as he wished, and set to
work to establish a colony in the name of the Spanish sovereign,
and appointed his chief friend Puertocarrero to be one of its magis-
trates, and Montejo, who was a friend of Velasquez, to be the other.
The new town was called Villa Rica de Vera Cruz, ' The rich town
of the True Cross,' and, as you see, its governors and officials were
appointed before a single house was built. To them Cortes then
resigned the commission which he had received from Velasquez,
and the council, which consisted chiefly of his own friends, imme-
diately reappointed him to be captain-general and chief justice of
the colony, with power to do practically just as he liked. Of course
this (aused a great commotion in the opposing party, but Cortes
put the leaders into irons and sent them on board one of the ships,
while he sent the soldiers on a foraging expedition into the surround ingcountry. By the time these returned with supplies they had altered
their minds, and joined their companions in arms, pledging them-
selves to a common cause, while even the cavaliers on board the ship
came to the same conclusion, and were reconciled to the new
government, and were from that time staunch adherents to Cortes.
peace being thus restored, the army set out to march northwards
to the place where it had been decided to build the town. They
crossed a river in rafts and broken canoes which they found upon its
bank, and presently came to a very different scene from the burning
sandy waste, which they had left. The wide plains were covered
with green grass, and there were groves of palms, among which the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 241
off again to the town of Chiahuitztla, which stood like a fortress on a
crag overlooking the gulf. Though the inhabitants were alarmed at
first, they soon became friendly, and the chiefs came to confer with
Cortes and the cacique of Cempoallo, who had accompanied him, car-
ried in a litter. Just then there was a stir among the people, and
five men entered the market-place where they were standing. By
their rich and peculiar dress they seemed to belong to a different
race: their dark glossy hair was tied in a knot at the top of the head,
and they carried bunches of flowers in their hands. Their atten-
dants carried wands, or fans, to brush away the flies and insects
from their lordly masters. These persons passed the Spaniards
haughtily, scarcely deigning to return their salutations, and they
were immediately joined by the Totonac chiefs, who seemed anxious
to conciliate them by every sort of attention. The general, much
astonished, inquired of Marina what this meant, and she replied
that these were Aztec nobles empowered to receive tribute for
Montezuma.
Soon after the chiefs returned in dismay, saying that the Aztecs
were very angry with them for entertaining the Spaniards without
the emperor's permission, and had demanded twenty young men
and maidens to be sacrificed to the gods as a punishment. Cortes
was most indignant at this insolence, and insisted that the Totonacs
should not only refuse the demand, but should also seize the Aztec
nobles, and throw them into prison. This they did, but the Spanish
general managed to get two of them freed in the night, and brought
before him. He then very cunningly made them believe that he
regretted the indignity that had been offered them, and would help
them to get away safely, and the next day would do his best to
release their companions. He also told them to report this to
Montezuma, assuring him of the great respect and regard in which
he was held by the Spaniards. Them he sent them away secretly
to the port, and they were taken in one of the vessels, and landed
safely at a little distance along the coast. The Totonacs were
furious at the escape of some of their prisoners, and would at once
have sacrificed the remainder, had not Cortes expressed the utmost
horror at the idea, and sent them on board one of the ships for safe
keeping, whence he very soon allowed them to join their companions.
This artful proceeding had, as we shall presently see, just the effect
it was meant to have upon Montezuma. By order of Cortes, mes-
sengers were now sent to all the other Totonac towns, telling them
of the defiance that had been shown to the emperor, and bidding
E


242 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
them also refuse to pay the tribute. The Indians soon came
flocking into Chiahuitztla to see and confer with the powerful
strangers, in the hope of regaining liberty by their aid, and so cleverly
had Cortes managed to embroil them with Montezuma, that even
the most timid felt that they had no choice but to accept the pro-
tection of the Spaniards, and make a bold effort for the recovery of
freedom.
Cortes accordingly made them swear allegiance to the Spanish
sovereign, and then set out once more for the port where his colony
was to be planted. This was only half a league distant, in a wide
and fruitful plain, and he was not long in determining the circuit of
the walls, and the site of the fort, granary, and other public build-
ings. The friendly Indians brought stone, lime, wood, and bricks,
and in a few weeks a town rose up, which served as a good starting-
point for future operations, a retreat for the disabled, a place for
the reception of stores, or whatever might be sent to or from the
mother-country, and was, moreover, strong enough to overawe the
surrounding country. This was the first colony in New Spain, and
was hailed with satisfaction by the simple natives, who could not
foresee that their doom was sealed when a white man set his foot
upon their soil.
While the Spaniards were still occupied with their new settle-
ment they were surprised by another embassy from Mexico. When
the account of the imprisonment of the royal collectors first reached
Montezuma, his feelings of fear and superstition were swallowed up
in indignation, and he began with great energy to make preparations
for punishing his rebellious vassals, and avenging the insult offered
to himself. But when the Aztec officers liberated by Cortes
reached the capital and reported the courteous treatment they had
received from the Spanish commander, he was induced to resume
his former timid and conciliatory policy, and sent an embassy con-
sisting of two young nephews of his own and four of his chief nobles
to the Spanish quarters. As usual they bore a princely gift of gold,
rich cotton stuffs, and wonderful mantles of feather embroidery.
The envoys on coming before Cortes presented this offering, with
the emperor's thanks to him for the courtesy he had shown to the
captive nobles. At the same time Montezuma expressed his sur-
prise and regret that the Spaniards should have countenanced the
rebellion. He had no doubt, he said, that Cortes and his followers
were the long-looked-for strangers, and therefore of the same
lineage as himself. From deference to them he would spare the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 243
Totonacs while they were present, but the day of vengeance would
come. Cortes entertained the Indians with frank hospitality, tak-
ing care, however, to make such a display of his resources as should
impress'them with a sense of his power. Then he dismissed them
with a few trifling gifts and a conciliatory message to the emperor,
to the effect that he would soon pay his respects to him in his
capital, when all misunderstanding between them would certainly
be adjusted. The Totonacs were amazed when they understood
the nature of this interview; for, in spite of the presence of the
Spaniards, they had felt great apprehension as to the consequence
of their rash act, and now they felt absolutely in awe of the
strangers who even at a distance could exercise such a mysterious
influence over the terrible Montezuma.
Not long after the cacique of Cempoalla appealed to Cortes to
aid him against a neighbour with whom he had a quarrel. The
general at once marched to support him with a part of his force,
but when they reached the hostile city, they were received in a
most friendly manner, and Cortes had no difficulty in reconciling
the two chiefs to one another. In token of gratitude the Indian
cacique sent eight noble maidens, richly decked with collars and
ornaments of gold, whom he begged the general to give as wives
to his captains. Cortes seized the opportunity of declaring that
they must first become Christians, and be baptized, since the
sons of the Church could not be allowed to marry idolaters. The
chief replied that his gods were good enough for him, and that he
should at once resent any insults offered to them, even if they did
not avenge themselves by instantly destroying the Spaniards.
However, the general and his followers had seen too much already
of the barbarous rites of the Indian religion and its horrible sacri-
fices. Without hesitation they attacked the principal teocalli, where-
upon the cacique called his men to arms, the priests in their blood-
stained robes rushed frantically about among the people, calling
upon them to defend their gods, and all was tumult and confusion.
Cortes acted with his usual promptitude at this crisis. He caused
the cacique and the principal inhabitants and the priests to be
taken prisoners, and then commanded them to quiet the people,
threatening that a single arrow shot at the Spaniards should cost
them their lives. Marina also represented the madness of resist-
ance, reminding the cacique that if he lost the friendship of the
strangers, he would be left alone to face the vengeance of Monte-
zuma. This consideration decided him: covering his face with his
k 2


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 245
shouts of their comrades, and then burnt them to ashes. The
Totonacs, finding that their gods were unable to prevent or even
punish this profanation of their temple, now believed that they were
indeed less to be feared than the Spaniards, and offered no further
resistance. By Cortes's orders the teocalli was then thoroughly
purified, and an altar was erected, surmounted by a great cross
hung with garlands of roses, and Father Olmedo said Mass before
the Indians and Spaniards, who seem to have been alike impressed
by the ceremony. An old disabled soldier, named Juan de Torres,
was left to watch over the sanctuary and instruct the natives in its
services, while the general, taking a friendly leave of his Totonac
allies, set out once more for Villa Rica, to finish his arrangements
before departing for the capital. Here he was surprised to find
that a Spanish vessel had arrived in his absence, having on board twelve soldiers and two horses, a very welcome addition to
the tiny army. Cortes now resolved to execute a plan of which he
had been thinking for some time. He knew very well that none of
his arrangements about the colony would hold good without the
Spanish monarch's sanction, and also that Velasquez had great
interest" at court, and would certainly use it against him. There-
fore he resolved to send despatches to the emperor himself, and
such an amount of treasure as should give a great idea of the extent
and importance of his discoveries. He gave up his own share of the
spoil, and persuaded his officers to do the same, and a paper was cir-
culated among the soldiers, calling upon all who chose to resign the
small portion which was due to them, that a present worthy of the
emperor's acceptance might be sent home. It is only another
proof of the extraordinary power which Cortes had over these rough
soldiers, who cared for nothing but plunder, that not the single one
refused to give up the very treasure which he had risked so much
to gain.
These are some of the wonderful things that were sent. Two
collars made of gold and precious stones. Two birds made of
green feathers, with feet, beaks, and eyes of gold, and in the same
piece with them animals of gold resembling snails. A large
alligator's head of gold. Two birds made of thread and feather-work,
having the quills of their wings and tails, their feet, eyes and the
ends of their beaks of gold, standing upon two reeds covered with
gold, which are raised on balls of feather-work and gold embroidery,
one white and the other yellow, with seven tassels of feather-work
hanging from each of them. A large silver wheel, also bracelets,


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 247
men arrayed against a great and formidable empire, and cut off
from all chance of escape. They murmured loudly, and a serious
mutiny was threatened. But Cortes, whose presence of mind never
deserted him, managed to reassure them, and to persuade them
that he had only done what was really best for everyone; and he
so cunningly dwelt upon the fame and the treasure which they
were on the eve of gaining, that not one of them accepted the offer
which he made to them of returning to Cuba in the only remaining
ship. Their enthusiasm for their leader revived, and as he con-
cluded his speech they made the air ring with their shouts of
'To Mexico! To Mexico!'
The March to Mexico
While he was still at Cempoalla, news came to Cortes from Villa
Rica that four strange ships were hovering off the coast, and that
they refused to respond to repeated signals made to them by Don
Juan de Escalante, who was in command of the garrison left in the
town. This greatly alarmed Cortes, who was continually dreading
the interference of his enemy, the governor of Cuba. He rode
hastily back to Villa Rica, and, almost without stopping to rest,
pushed on a few leagues northwards along the coast, where he under-
stood the ships were at anchor. On his way he met with three
Spaniards just landed from them, and learned that they belonged to
a squadron fitted out by Francisco de Garay, who had landed on
the Florida coast a year before, and had obtained from Spain
authority over the countries he might discover in its neighbourhood.
Cortes saw he had nothing to fear from them, but he did wish he
could have induced the crews of the ships to join his expedition.
The three men he easily persuaded, but those who remained on
board feared treachery, and refused to send a boat ashore. Finally,
by a stratagem, Cortes succeeded in capturing three or four more,
out of a boat's crew who came to fetch their comrades, and with
this small party of recruits he returned to Cempoalla. On August 16,
1519, Cortes bade farewell to his hospitable Indian friends, and set
out for Mexico. His force consisted of about four hundred foot and
fifteen horse, with seven pieces of artillery, and in addition to these
he had obtained from the cacique of Cempoalla thirteen hundred
warriors, and a thousand porters to carry the baggage and drag the
guns. During the first day the army marched through the ' tierra
caliente,' or hot region. All around them fruit and flowers grew in


248 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
the wildest profusion, as indeed they did all the year round in that
wonderful climate; the air was heavy with perfume, and bright birds
and insects abounded. But after some leagues' travel, over roads
made nearly impassable by the summer rains, they began to ascend
gradually, and at the close of the second day they reached Xalapa,
from which they looked out over one of the grandest prospects that
could be seen anywhere. Down below them lay the hot region with
its gay confusion of meadows, streams, and flowering forests, sprinkled
over with shining Indian villages, while a faint line of light upon
the horizon told them that there was the ocean they had so lately
crossed, beyond which lay their country, which many of them would
never see again. To the south rose the mighty mountain called
'Orizaba,' in his mantle of snow, and in another direction the
Sierra Madre, with its dark belt of pine-trees, stretched its long lines
of shadowy hills away into the distance. Onward and upward they
went, and on the fourth day they arrived at the strong town of
Naulinco. Here the inhabitants entertained them hospitably, for they
were friendly with the Totonacs, and Cortes endeavoured, through
Father Olmedo, to teach them something about Christianity. They
seem to have listened willingly, and allowed the Spaniards to erect a
cross for their adoration, which indeed they did in most of the places
where they halted. The troops now entered upon a rugged, narrow
valley, called ' the Bishop's Pass,' and now it began to be terribly
cold, the snow and hail beat upon them, and the freezing wind
seemed to penetrate to their very bones. The Spaniards were partly
protected by their armour, and their thick coats of quilted cotton,
but the poor Indians, natives of the hot region and with very little
clothing, suffered greatly, and indeed several of them died by the
way. The path lay round a bare and dreadful-looking volcanic
mountain, and often upon the edge of precipices three thousand feet
in depth. After three days of this dreary travelling the army
emerged into a more genial climate; they had reached the great
tableland which spreads out for hundreds of miles along the crests of
the Cordilleras, more than seven thousand miles above the sea-level.
The vegetation of the torrid and temperate regions had of course
disappeared, but the fields were carefully cultivated. Many of the
crops were unknown to the Spaniards, but they recognised maize
and aloes, and various kinds of cactus. Suddenly the troops came
upon what seemed to be a populous city, even larger than Cempoalla,
and with loftier and more substantial buildings, of stone and lime.
There were thirteen teocallis in the town, and in one place in the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 249
suburbs one of the Spaniards counted the stored-up skulls of a
hundred thousand sacrificed victims. The lord of the town ruled
over twenty thousand vassals; he was a tributary to Montezuma,

and there was a strong Mexican garrison in the place. This was
probably the reason of his receiving Cortes and his army very coldly,
and vaunting the grandeur of the Mexican emperor, who could, he
declared, muster thirty great vassals, each of whom commanded a


250 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
hundred thousand men. In answer to the inquiries of Cortes, he told
him about Montezuma and his capital. How more than twenty
thousand prisoners of war were sacrificed every year upon the altars
of his gods, and how the city stood in the midst of a great lake, and
was approached by long causeways connected in places by wooden
bridges, which when raised cut off all communication with the
country —and many other strange things which were not of a kind to
reassure the minds of the Spaniards. They hardly knew whether
to believe the old cacique or not, but at any rate the wonders they
heard made them, as one of their cavaliers said, 'only the more
earnest to prove the adventure, desperate as it might appear.'
The natives were also very curious to know about the Spaniards,
their horses and dogs, and strange weapons, and Marina in answer-
ing their questions took care to expatiate upon the exploits and
victories of her adopted countrymen, and to state the extraordinary
marks of respect they had received from Montezuma. This had
its effect upon the cacique, who presently sent the general some
slaves to make bread for the soldiers, and supplied them with the
means of refreshment and rest, which they needed so much after their
toilful march.
The army rested in this city four or five days, and even at the end
of the last century the Indians would still point out the cypress tree
under the shelter of which the conqueror's horse had been tied. When
the journey was resumed, the way was through a broad green valley,
watered by a splendid river and shaded by lofty trees. On either
side of the river an unbroken line of Indian dwellings extended for
several leagues, and on some rising ground stood a town which
might contain five or six thousand inhabitants, commanded by a
fortress with walls and trenches. Here the troops halted again,
and met with friendly treatment.
In their last halting-place Cortes had been advised by the
natives to take the route to the ancient city of Cholula, the inhabi-
tants of which were a mild race, subjects of Montezuma, and given
to peaceful arts, who were likely to receive him kindly. But his
Cempoallan allies declared that the Cholulans were false and perfi-
dious, and counselled him to go to Tlascala, a valiant little republic
which had managed to maintain its independence against the arms
of Mexico. The tribe had always been friendly with the Totonacs,
and had the reputation of being frank, fearless, and trustworthy.
The Spanish general decided to try and secure their goodwill, and ac-
cordingly despatched four of the principal s with a gift,


252 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
own chief, who was independent in his own territory, and possessed
equal authority with the other three in all matters concerning the
whole republic, the affairs of which were settled by a council con-
sisting of the four chiefs and the inferior nobles. They were an
agricultural people, and the fertility of their new country was sig-
nified by its name—' Tlascala' meaning the land of bread. Presently
their neighbours began to be envious of their prosperity, and they
were frequently obliged to defend themselves against the Cholulans,
and were always successful. But when Axayacatl, king of the
Aztecs, sent demanding the same tribute and obedience from them
which the other people of the country paid him, threatening, if they
refused, to destroy their cities, and give their land to their enemies,
they answered proudly, ' Neither they nor their forefathers had ever
paid tribute or homage to a foreign power, nor ever would pay it.
If their country was invaded, they knew how to defend it.'
This answer brought upon them the forces of the Mexican mon-
arch, and a pitched battle was fought in which the republic was
again victorious, but from that time hostilities never ceased between
the two nations, every captive was mercilessly sacrificed, and the
Tlascalan children were trained from the cradle to hate the Mexi-
cans with a deadly hatred. In this struggle the Tlascalans received
^.valuable support from a wild and warlike race from the north, called
the Otomies. Some of them settled in the republic, and having
proved themselves courageous and faithful, were entrusted with the
defence of the frontier. After Montezuma became emperor of Mexico
greater efforts than before were made to subdue Tlascala. He sent
a great army against it, commanded by his favourite son, but his
troops were defeated and his son killed. Enraged and mortified,
Montezuma made still greater preparations and invaded the valley
with a terrific force. But the Tlascalans withdrew to the recesses
of the hills, and watching their opportunity, swept down upon the
enemy and drove them from their territory with dreadful slaughter.
Nevertheless they were greatly harassed by these constant strug-
gles with a foe so superior to themselves in numbers and resources.
The Aztec armies lay between them and the coast, cutting off all possi-
bility of obtaining any supplies. There were some things, as cotton,
cacao, and salt, which they were unable to grow or manufacture, of
which they had been deprived for more than fifty years, and their
taste was so much affected by this enforced abstinence that they did
not get used to eating salt with their food for several generations after
the conquest. This was the state of affairs in Tlascala when the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 253
Spaniards reached it, and it is easy to see how important it was to
Cortes to form an alliance with it, but that was not an easy thing
to do.
The Tlascalans had heard about the Christians and their victorious
advance, but they had not expected that they would come their way.
So they were much embarrassed by the embassy demanding a pas-
sage through their territories. The council was assembled, and a
great difference of opinion was found among its members. Some
believed that these were the white-skinned, bearded men whose
coming was foretold, and at all events they were enemies to
Mexico, and might help them in their struggle against it. Others
argued that this could not be: the march of the strangers through
the land might be tracked by the broken images of the Indian
gods, and desecrated temples. How could they be sure that
they were not friends of Montezuma? They had received his em-
bassies, accepted his gifts, and were even now on their way to his
capital in company with his vassals. This last was the opinion of
.in aged chief, one of the four rulers of the republic. His name was
Xicotencatl, and he was nearly blind, for he was over a hundred years
old. He had a son of the same name as himself, an impetuous young
man, who commanded a powerful force of Tlascalans and Otomies on
the eastern frontier where the great fortification stood. The old chief
advised that this force should at once fall upon the Spaniards. If
they were conquered they would be at the mercy of the Tlascalans,
but if by any mischance his son should fail, the council could declare
that they had nothing to do with the attack, laying the whole blame
of it upon the young Xicotencatl. Meantime the Cempoallan envoys
were to be detained under pretence of assisting at a religious sacri-
fice. By this time, as we know, Cortes and his gallant band had
passed the rocky rampart, from which, for some reason or other, the
Otomie guard was absent. After advancing a few leagues he saw
a small party of Indians, armed with sword and buckler, who fled
at his approach. He made signs for them to halt, but they only fled
the faster.
The Spaniards spurred their horses, and soon succeeded in over-
taking them, when they at once turned, and, without showing the
usual alarm at the horses and strange weapons of the cavaliers,
attacked them furiously. The latter, however, were far too strong
for them, and they would soon have been cut to pieces had not a
body of several thousand Indians appeared, coming quickly to their
rescue. Cortes seeing them, hastily despatched a messenger to


254 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
hurry up his infantry. The Indians, having discharged their missiles,
fell upon the little band of Spaniards, striving to drag the riders
from their horses and to tear their lances from their grasp. They
brought one cavalier to the ground, who afterwards died of his
wounds, and they killed two horses, cutting their necks through with
one blow of their formidable broadswords. This was a most serious
loss to Cortes, whose horses were so important, and so few in number.
The struggle was a hard one, and it was with no small satisfac-
tion that the Spaniards saw their comrades advancing to their aid.
No sooner had the main body reached the field of battle, than,
hastily falling into position, they poured such a volley from their
muskets and crossbows as fairly astounded the enemy, who made no
further attempt to continue the fight, but drew off in good order, leaving
the road open to the Spaniards, who were only too glad to get rid of
their foes and pursue their way. Presently they met two Tlascalan
envoys, accompanied by two of the Cempoallans. The former, on
being brought to the general, assured him of a friendly reception in
the capital, and declared the late assault upon the troops to have
been quite unauthorised. Cortes received his message courteously,
pretending to believe that all was as he said. As it was now growing
late the Spaniards quickened their pace, anxious to reach a suitable
camping-ground before nightfall, and they chose a place upon the
bank of a stream, where a few deserted huts were standing. These
the weary and famishing soldiers ransacked in search of food, but
could find nothing but some animals resembling dogs, which, how-
ever, they cooked and ate without ceremony, seasoning their un-
savoury repast with the fruit of the Indian fig, which grew wild in
the neighbourhood. After several desperate battles with the Tlas-
calans, Cortes finally won a great victory.
The next day—as he usually did after gaining a battle—the
Spanish commander sent a new embassy to the Tlascalan capital,
making as before professions of friendship, but this time threaten-
ing that if his offers were rejected he would visit their city as a
conqueror, razing their house to the ground and putting every
inhabitant to the sword. Of course this message was given to the
envoys by the aid of the Lady Marina, who became day by day
more necessary to Cortes, and who was, indeed, generally admired
for her courage and the cheerfulness with which she endured all
the hardships of the camp and raised the drooping spirits of the
soldiers, while by every means in her power she alleviated the
miseries of her own countrymen. This time, the ambassadors of


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 255
Cortes received a respectful hearing from the deeply dejected
council of Tlascala, for whom nothing remained but to submit.
Four principal caciques were chosen to offer to the Spaniards a
free passage through the country, and a friendly reception in the
capital. Their friendship was accepted, with many excuses for the
past, and the chiefs were further ordered to touch at the camp of
Xicotencatl, the Tlascalan general, and require him to cease hostilities
and furnish the white men with a plentiful supply of provisions.
While the Tlascalan envoys were still in the camp came a fresh

embassy from Montezuma. Tidings had been sent to him of each
step in the progress of the Spaniards, and it was with great satis-
faction that he had heard of their taking the road to Tlascala,
trusting that if they were mortal men they would find their graves
there. Great was his dismay, therefore, when courier after courier
brought him news of their successes, and how the most redoubt-
able warriors had been scattered by this handful of strangers.
His superstitious fears returned with greater force than ever, and
in his alarm and uncertainty he despatched five great nobles of
his court, attended by two hundred slaves, to bear to Cortes a gift
consisting of three thousand ounces of gold and several hundred


256 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
robes of cotton and feather-work. As they laid it at his feet
they said that they had come to offer Montezuma's congratulations
upon his victories, and to express his regret that he could not
receive them in his capital, where the numerous population was
so unruly that he could not be answerable for their safety. The
merest hint of the emperor's wishes would have been enough
to influence any of the natives, but they made very little impres-
sion upon Cortes ; and, seeing this, the envoys proceeded, in their
master's name, to offer tribute to the Spanish sovereign, pro-
vided the general would give up the idea of visiting the capital.
This was a fatal mistake, and a most strange one for such a brave
and powerful monarch to make, for it amounted to an admission
that he was unable to protect his treasures. Cortes in replying
expressed the greatest respect for Montezuma, but urged his own
sovereign's commands as a reason for disregarding his wishes.
He added that though he had not at present the power of requiting
his generosity as he could wish, he trusted ' to repay him at some
future day with good works.' You will hear before long how he
kept his word.
The Mexican ambassadors were anything but pleased at finding
the war at an end and a firm friendship established between their
mortal enemies and the Spaniards, and the general saw with some
satisfaction the evidences of a jealousy between them, which was his
surest hope of success in undermining the Mexican empire. Two
of the Aztecs presently returned to acquaint Montezuma with the
state of affairs; the others remained with the Spaniards, Cortes
being willing that they should see the deference paid to him by the
Tlascalans, who were most anxious for his presence in their city.
The city of Tlascala lay about six leagues away from the Spanish
camp, and the road led through a hilly region, and across a deep
ravine over which a bridge had just been built for the passage of
the army; they passed some towns by the way, where they were
received with the greatest hospitality. The people flocked out to meet
them, bringing garlands of roses, with which they decorated the
Spanish soldiers, and wreathed about the necks of their horses.
Priests in their white robes mingled with the crowd, scattering
clouds of incense from their censers, and thus escorted the army
slowly made its way through the gates of the city of Tlascala.
Here the press became so great that it was with difficulty that a
passage was cleared for it. The flat housetops were crowded with
eager spectators, while garlands of green boughs, roses, and honey-


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 259
he invited them to take the route of the friendly city of Cholula,
where arrangements were being made, by his orders, for their recep-
tion. The Tlascalans were much concerned that Cortes should pro-
pose to go to Mexico, and what they told him fully confirmed all
the reports he had heard of the power and ambition of Montezuma,
of the strength of his capital, and the number of his soldiers. They
warned him not to trust to his gifts and his fair words, and when the
general said that he hoped to bring about a better understanding
between the emperor and themselves, they replied that it was im-
possible; however smooth his words, he would hate them at heart.
They also heartily protested against the general's going to Cholula
The people, they said, though not brave in the open field, were
crafty; they were Montezuma's tools, and would do his bidding.
That city, too, was specially under the protection of the god Quetzal-
coatl, and the priests were confidently believed to have the power of
opening an inundation from the foundations of his shrine, which
should overwhelm their enemies in the deluge, and lastly, though
many distant places had sent to testify their goodwill, and offer
their allegiance, Cholula, only six leagues distant, had done neither.
This consideration weighed more with the general than either of
the preceding ones, and he promptly despatched a summons to the
city demanding a formal tender of its submission. It was not long
before deputies arrived from Cholula profuse in expressions of good-
will and invitations to visit their city; but the Tlascalans pointed
out that these messengers were below the usual rank of ambassadors,
which Cortes regarded as a fresh indignity. He therefore sent the new summons, declaring that if they did not at once send a depu-
tation of their principal men he would treat them as rebels to his
own sovereign, the rightful lord of these realms. This soon brought
some of the highest nobles to the camp, who excused their tardy
appearance, by saying that they had feared for their personal safety
in the capital of their enemies. The Tlascalans were now more
than ever averse to the projected visit. A strong Aztec force
was known to be near Cholula, and the city was being actively
prepared for defence. Cortes, too, was disturbed by these
circumstances, but he had gone too far to recede without showing
fear, which could not fail to have a bad effect on his own men, as
well as on the natives. Therefore, after a short consultation with
his officers, he decided finally to take the road to Cholula. This
ancient city lay six leagues to the south of Tlascala, and was most
populous and flourishing. The inhabitants excelled in the art of
s 2


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 261
themselves, saying they were ill. Also, the supply of provisions
ran short, and they said it was because maize was scarce. Natur-
ally, Cortes became very uneasy at this change, and his alarm was
increased by the reports of the Cempoallans, who told him that in
wandering about the city they had seen several streets barricaded,
and in some places holes had been dug, and a sharp stake planted
upright in each, and branches strewn to conceal them, while the
flat roofs of the houses were being stored with stones and other
missiles. Some Tlascalans also came in from their camp to inform
him that a great sacrifice, mostly of children, had been held in a
distant quarter of the town, to secure the aid of the gods in some
intended enterprise, and numbers of the people had taken their
wives and children out of the city.
These tidings confirmed the worst suspicions of Cortes, but just
then the Lady Marina made a discovery which changed his doubts
into certainty. The wife of one of the Cholulan caciques had taken
a great fancy to the Mexican girl, and continually urged her to visit
her house, hinting mysteriously that she would in this way escaped a great danger which threatened the Spaniards. Marina pretended
to be delighted with this proposal, and glad of the chance of escaping
from the white men, and by degrees she thus won the confidence of
the Cholulan, who presently revealed the whole plot to her. It
originated, she said, with the Aztec emperor, who had bribed the
caciques of Cholula, her husband among the number, to assault the
Spaniards as they marched out of the city, and to throw them into
confusion all sorts of obstacles had been placed in their way. A
force of twenty thousand Mexicans was already quartered near the
city to support the Cholulans, and the Spaniards would, it was con-
fidently expected, fall an easy prey to their united enemies. A suffi-
cient number of them were to be reserved to be sacrified in Cholula,
and the rest led in fetters to the capital of Montezuma. While this
conversation was taking place, Marina was making a show of col-
lecting and packing up such dresses and jewels as she was to take
with her to the house of her new friend. But after a while she
managed to slip away without exciting her suspicion, and, rushing
to the general, told him all. Cortes at once caused the cacique's
wife to be seized, and she repeated to him the same story that she
had told to Marina. He was most anxious to gain further particulars
of the conspiracy, and accordingly induced two priests, one of them
a person of much influence, to visit his quarters, where by courteous
treatment and rich presents he got from them a complete confirma-


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 263
gazed with awe upon the strangers who seemed to have the power
of reading their most secret thoughts. They made no attempt to
deny the accusation, but tried to excuse themselves by throwing the
blame on Montezuma. Cortes, however, declared with still more
indignation that such a presence would not serve them, and that he
would now make such an example of them as should be a warning
to the cities far and near, and then the fatal signal—the firing of a
gun—was given, and in an instant every musket and crossbow was
levelled at the unhappy Cholulans as they stood crowded together
in the centre. They were completely taken by surprise, having
heard nothing of what was going forward, and offered hardly
any resistance to the Spanish soldiers, who followed up the discharge
of their pieces by rushing upon them with their swords and mowing
them down in ranks as they stood.
While this dreadful massacre was going on the Cholulans from
outside, attracted by the noise, began a furious assault upon the
Spaniards, but the heavy guns opened fire upon them and swept
them off in files as they rushed on, and in the intervals of reloading
the cavalry charged into their midst. By this time the Tlascalans
had come up, having by order of Cortes bound wreaths of sedge
about their heads that they might be the more easily distinguished
from the Cholulans, and they fell upon the rear of the wretched
townsmen, who, thus harassed on all sides, could no longer maintain
their - ground. They fled, some to the near buildings, which were
speedily set on fire, others to the temples. One strong body headed
by the priests got possession of the great teocalli. There was, as
you remember, a tradition that if part of the wall was removed the
god would send a flood to overwhelm his enemies. Now the Cho-
lulans strove with might and main, and at last succeeded in
wrenching away a few stones, but dust, not water, followed. In
despair they crowded into the wooden turrets which surmounted
the temple, and poured down stones, javelins, and burning arrows
upon the Spaniards as they came swarming up the steps. But the
fiery shower fell harmlessly upon the steel head-pieces of the sol-
diers, and they used the blazing shafts to set fire to the wooden
towers, so that the wretched natives either perished in the flames
or threw themselves headlong from the parapet. In the fair city,
lately so peaceful and prosperous, all was confusion and slaughter,
burning and plundering. The division of spoil was greatly sim-
plified by the fact that the Tlascalans desired wearing-apparel and
provisions far more than gold or jewels; they also took hundreds of


264 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
prisoners, but these Cortes afterwards induced them to release.
The work of destruction had gone on for some hours before the
general yielded to the entreaties of the Cholulan chiefs who had
been saved from the massacre, and of the Mexican envoys, and
called off his men, putting a stop as well as he could to further vio-
lence. Two of the caciques were also permitted to go to their
countrymen with offers of pardon and protection to all who would
return to their obedience, and so by degrees the tumult was ap-
peased. Presently Cortes helped the Cholulans to choose a successor
to their principal cacique, who was among the slain, and confidence
being thus restored the people from the country round began to
flock in, the markets were again opened, and the ordinary life of
the city resumed, though the black and smouldering ruins remained
to tell the sad tale of the massacre of Cholula. This terrible ven-
geance made a great impression upon the natives, and none trem-
bled more than the Mexican monarch upon his throne among the
mountains. He felt his empire melting away from him like a
morning mist, for some of the most important cities, overawed by
the fate of Cholula, now sent envoys to the Spanish camp tendering
their allegiance, and trying to secure the favour of the conqueror
by rich gifts of gold and slaves. Again did Montezuma seek coun-
sel from his gods, but the answers he obtained were far from re-
assuring, and he determined to send another embassy to Cortes to
declare that he had nothing to do with the conspiracy at Cholula.
As usual the envoys were charged with a splendid present of golden
vessels and ornaments, and among other things were artificial birds,
made in imitation of turkeys with plumage of worked gold; there
were also fifteen hundred robes of delicate cotton cloth. The em-
peror's message expressed regret for the late catastrophe, and denied
all knowledge of the plot which had. he said, brought a retribution
upon its authors which they richly deserved; and he explained the
presence of the Aztec force in the neighbourhood by saying that
there was a disturbance that had to be quelled. More than a fort-
night had passed since the Spaniards entered Cholula, and the
general had, after the city was once more restored to order, tried to
induce the people to give up their false gods, but this they would
not do willingly. However, he seized upon the great teocalli of
which all the woodwork had been burned, and built a church of the
stone that remained, and he opened the cages in which the wretched
victims about to be sacrificed were imprisoned, and restored them
to liberty, and then he thought it time to begin the march to Mexico


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 265
once more. So the allied army of Spaniards and Tlascalans set
out upon their journey through luxuriant plains and flourishing
plantations, met occasionally by embassies from different towns,
anxious to claim the protection of the white men, and bringing rich
gifts of gold to propitiate them. They passed between the two
enormous mountain peaks, Popocatapetl, 'the hill that smokes,'
and Iztaccihuatl, 'the white woman,' and presently encountered a
blinding snow-storm, from which they found shelter in one of the
large stone buildings, put up by the Mexicans for the use of
travellers and couriers, and here they encamped for the night.
The next morning they reached the top of a range of hills where

progress was comparatively easy, and they had not gone far when,
turning sharply round the shoulder of a hill, they saw spread out
before them the lovely Mexican valley. The clearness of the air
enabled them to see distinctly the shining cities, the lakes, woods,
fields and gardens, and in the midst of all the fair city of Mexico
rose as it were from the waters of the great lake, with its towers
and temples white and gleaming, and behind it the royal hill of
Chapultepec, the residence of the Mexican kings, crowned with
the very same gigantic cypress trees which to this day fling their
broad shadows across the land. The Spaniards gazed in rapture
over the gay scene, exclaiming, 'It is the promised land!' but pre-


266 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
sently the evidences of a power and civilisation so far superior to
anything they had yet encountered disheartened the more timid
among them, they shrank from the unequal contest, and begged to
be led back again to Vera Cruz. But this was not the effect pro-
duced upon Cortes by the glorious prospect. His desire for treasure
and love of adventure were sharpened by the sight of the dazzling
spoil at his very feet, and with threats, arguments, and entreaties
he revived the drooping spirits of his soldiers, and by the aid of his
brave captains succeeded in once more rousing them to enthusiasm,
and the march down the slope of the hill was gaily resumed.
With every step of their progress the woods became thinner,
and villages were seen in green and sheltered nooks, the inhabitants
of which came out to meet and welcome the Spaniards. Every-
where Cortes heard with satisfaction complaints of the cruelty and
injustice of Montezuma, and he encouraged the natives to rely on
his protection, as he had come to redress their wrongs. The army
advanced but slowly, and was soon met by another embassy from
the emperor, consisting of several Aztec lords bringing a rich gift
of gold, and robes of delicate furs and feathers, and offering four
loads of gold to the general, and one to each of his captains, with a
yearly tribute to the Spanish sovereign, if they would even then
turn back from Mexico. But Cortes replied that he could not
answer it to his sovereign if he were to return without visiting the
emperor in his capital. The Spaniards came in the spirit of peace
as Montezuma would see for himself; but should their presence
prove burdensome to him, it would be very easy for them to relieve
him of it.
This embassy had been intended to reach the Spaniards before
they crossed the mountains, and the dismay of the Atzec emperor
was great when he learned that it had failed, and that the dreaded
strangers were actually on their march across the valley. They
were so utterly unlike anything he had ever known before, these
strange beings, who seemed to have dropped from another planet,
and by their superior knowledge and more deadly weapons over-
come the hitherto unconquerable nations, though a mere handful of
men in comparison to the swarms of his own countrymen. He felt
himself to be the victim of a destiny from which nothing could save
him. All peace, power, and security seemed to be gone from him,
and in despair he shut himself up in his palace, refusing food, and
trying by prayers and sacrifices to wring some favour from his
gods. But the oracles were dumb. Then he called a council of his



MONTEZUMA greets THE SPANIARDS





THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 273
to conduct the Spaniards to their quarters in the city, and again
entering his litter was borne off amid prostrate crowds in the same
state in which he had come. The Spaniards quickly followed, and
with colours flying and music playing entered the southern portion
of the city of Mexico. The great wide street facing the causeway
stretched for some miles in nearly a straight line through the centre
of the city. In the clear atmosphere of the tableland it was easy to
see the blue mountains in the distance beyond the temples, houses,
and gardens which stood on either side of it. But what most im-
pressed the Spaniards was the swarm of people who thronged
every street, canal, and roof, and filled every window and doorway.
To the Aztecs, it must indeed have been a strange sensation when
they beheld the fair-faced strangers, and for the first time heard
their well-paved streets ringing under the iron tramp of the horses
---those unknown animals which they regarded with superstitious
terror. But their wonder changed to anger when they saw their
detested enemies, the Tlascalans. stalking through their city with
looks of ferocity and defiance.
As they passed along the troops frequently crossed bridges which
spanned some of the numerous canals, and at length they halted in
a wide open space, near the centre of the city, close to the huge
temple of the war-god. Facing the western gate of the temple
enclosure stood a range of low stone buildings, spreading over a
large extent of ground, once a palace belonging to the emperor's
father. This was to be the lodging of the Spaniards. Montezuma
himself was waiting in the courtyard to receive them. Approaching
Cortes he took from one of his slaves a massive collar, made of the
shells of a kind of crawfish much prized by the Indians, set in gold,
and connected by heavy golden links; from this hung eight finely-
worked ornaments, each a span long, made to resemble the craw-
fish, but of fine gold. This gorgeous collar he hung round the neck
of the general, saying: 'This palace belongs to you, Malinche' (this
was the name by which he always addressed him), 'and your
brethren. Rest after your fatigues, for you have much need to do
so ; in a little while I will visit you again.' So saying, he withdrew
with his attendants. The general's first care was to inspect his new
quarters. The rooms were of great size, and afforded accommoda-
tion for the whole army—the Tlascalans probably encamping in
the outer courts. The best apartments were hung with draperies of
gaily coloured cotton, and the floors were covered with mats or
rashes. There were also low stools carved from single pieces of
I



cortes in the temple or huitzilopochtli


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 279
Spaniards into the building, which was adorned with sculptured
figures; at one end was a recess, with a roof of timber richly
carved and gilt, and here stood a colossal image of Huitailopochtli,
the war-god. His countenance was hideous ; in his right hand he
held a bow, and in his left a bunch of golden arrows, which a mystic
legend connected with the victories of his people. A huge serpent
of pearls and precious stones was coiled about his waist, and costly
jewels were profusely sprinkled over his person. On his left foot
were the delicate feathers of the humming-bird, from which, sin-
gularly enough, he took his name, while round his neck hung a
chain of gold and silver hearts, as an emblem of the sacrifice in
which he most delighted. Indeed, even at that moment three
bleeding human hearts lay upon the altar before him. The next
sanctuary was dedicated to Tezcatlipoca, who, they believed, had
created the earth and watched over it. He was represented as
a young man, and his image of polished black stone was gar-
nished with gold plates and ornaments, among which was a shield
burnished like a mirror, in which he was supposed to see re-
flected all the doings of the world; and before this shrine also
lay five hearts in a golden platter. From the horrors of this place
the Spaniards gladly escaped into the open air, and Cortes said,
turning to Montezuma, 'I do not understand how a great and
wise prince like you can put faith in such evil spirits as these
idols. If you will but permit us to erect here the true cross, and
place the images of the Blessed Virgin and her Son in your
sanctuaries, you will soon see how your false gods will shrink
before them.' Montezuma was greatly shocked at this speech.
'These,' said he,' are the gods who have led the Aztecs on to victory
since they were a nation, and who send us the seed time and
harvest. Had I thought you would have offered them this outrage
I would not have admitted you into their presence.' Cortes then
took his leave, expressing concern for having wounded the feelings
of the emperor, who remained to expiate, if possible, the crime of
having exposed the shrines of his gods to such profanation by the
strangers. On descending into the court the Spaniards took a
leisurely survey of the other buildings in the enclosure; there were
several other teocallis, but much smaller ones, in which the
Spaniards saw implements of sacrifice and many other horrors.
And there was also a great mound with a timber framework upon
its summit, upon which were strung hundreds of thousands of
skulls—those of the victims who had been sacrificed. Schools,


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 281
Indians to take vengeance upon the cacique, and though his allies
fled before the Mexicans, the few Spaniards stood firm, and by the
aid of their firearms made good the field against the enemy. Un-
fortunately, seven or eight of them were killed, including Escalante
himself, and the Indians who were taken prisoners declared that
the whole proceeding had been by Montezuma's orders. One of
the Spaniards fell into the hands of the enemy, but soon died from
his wounds. He happened to be a very big man of ferocious
appearance, and when his head was sent to Montezuma, the Aztec
emperor gazed upon it with a shudder, and commanded that it
should be taken out of the city, and not offered at the shrine of any
of his gods. He seemed to see in those terrible features a prophecy
of his sure destruction. The bolder spirits among the cavaliers
approved of the general's plan, and the next day, having asked an
audience of Montezuma, Cortes made the necessary arrangements
for his enterprise. The principal part of his force was drawn up in
the courtyard; one detachment was stationed in the avenue leading
to the palace, to prevent any attempt at rescue by the citizens.
Twenty-five or thirty soldiers were ordered to drop in at the palace
by twos and threes, as if accidentally, and he took with him five
cavaliers on whose coolness and courage he could rely.
That they should all be in full armour excited no suspicion; it
was too common an occurrence. The Spaniards were graciously
received by the emperor, who by the aid of interpreters held a gay
conversation with them, and as usual presented them with gold and
jewels. He paid Cortes the compliment of offering him one of his
daughters in marriage—an honour which was respectfully declined,
on the ground that he already had one wife. But as soon as the
general saw that his soldiers had all come upon the scene he abruptly
changed his tone, and accused the emperor of being the author of
the treacherous proceedings on the coast. Montezuma listened in
surprise, and declared that such an act could only have been
imputed to him by his enemies. Cortes pretended to believe him,
but said that Quanhpopoca and his accomplices must be sent for
that they might be dealt with after their deserts. Montezuma
agreed, and, taking his royal signet from his wrist, gave it to one of
his nobles, with orders to show it to the Aztec governor and require
his immediate presence in the capital, and incase of his resistance
to call in the aid of the neighbouring towns. When the messenger
had gone, Cortes assured the emperor that he was now convinced
of his innocence in the matter, but that it was necessary that his


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 283
He was attended by his own household, and his meals were served
with the usual pomp and ceremony, while not even the general
himself approached him without due obeisance, or sat down in his
presence uninvited. Nevertheless it was but too clear to his people
that he was a prisoner, for day and night the palace was guarded
by sixty sentinels in front and sixty in the rear, while another body
was stationed in the royal antechamber. This was the state of
affairs when Quanhpopoca arrived from the coast. Montezuma
received him coldly, and referred the matter to Cortes, who speedily
made an end of it by condemning the unhappy chief and his
followers to be burnt to death. The funeral piles were erected in
the courtyard before the palace, and were made of arrows, javelins,
and other weapons drawn by the emperor's permission from those
stored round the great teocalli. To crown these extraordinary pro-
ceedings, Cortes, just before the executions took place, entered the em-
peror's apartments, followed by a soldier bearing fetters in his hands.
Sternly he again accused Montezuma of having been the original
contriver of the treacherous deed, and said that a crime which
merited death in a subject must in some way be atoned for even by
a king, whereupon he ordered the soldier to fasten the fetters upon
Montezuma's ankles, and after coolly waiting until it was done
turned his back and quitted the room.
The emperor was speechless under this last insult, like one
struck down by a heavy blow. But though he offered no resistance
low moans broke from him, which showed the anguish of his spirit.
His faithful attendants did their utmost to console him, holding his
feet in their arms, and trying to keep the irons from touching him
by inserting their own robes; but it was not the bodily discomfort
that so afflicted him, but the feeling that he was no more a king,
and so utterly broken in spirit was he that when Cortes came after
the execution had taken place, and with his own hands unclasped
the irons, Montezuma actually thanked him as if for some great
and unmerited favour. Not long after the Spanish general expressed
his willingness that the emperor should if he wished return to his
own palace, but Montezuma declined the offer, doubtless fearing to
trust himself again to the haughty and ferocious chieftains, who
could not but despise the cowardly proceedings of their master, so
unlike the usual conduct of an Aztec monarch. Montezuma often
amused himself with seeing the Spanish troops go through their
exercises, or with playing at some of the national games with
Cortes and his officers. A favourite one was called 'totoloque,'


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 287
which attacks its religion, and this profanation touched a feeling in
the natives which the priests were not slow to take advantage of.
Soon the Spaniards noticed a change in Montezuma. He was
grave instead of cheerful, and avoided their society. Many con-
ferences went on between him and the priests and nobles, at which
even Orteguilla, his favourite page, was not allowed to be present.
Presently Cortes received a summons to appear before the emperor,
who told him that his predictions had come to pass, his gods were
offended, and threatened to forsake the city if the sacrilegious
strangers were not driven from it, or sacrificed on their altars as an
expiation. 'If you have any regard for your safety,' he continued,
'you will leave the country without delay. I have only to raise my
finger, and every Aztec in the land will rise against you.'
Cortes knew well enough that this was true, but, concealing his
dismay, he replied that he should much regret to leave the capital
so precipitately, especially when he had no ships to take him back
to his own country. He should also regret that if he quitted it
under these circumstances he should be driven to taking the
emperor with him. Montezuma was evidently troubled by this
last suggestion, and finally offered to send workmen to the coast to
build ships under the direction of the Spaniards, while he restrained
the impatience of his people with the assurance that the white men
would leave their land as soon as they were ready. This was
accordingly done, and the work went forward at Vera Cruz with
great apparent alacrity, but those who directed it took care to
interpose as many delays as possible, while Cortes hoped in the
meantime to receive such reinforcements from Spain as should
enable him to hold his ground. Nevertheless the whole aspect of
affairs in the Spanish quarters was utterly changed; apprehension
had taken the place of security, and as many precautions were
observed as if the garrison was actually in a state of siege. Such
was the unpleasant state of affairs when, in May 1520, six months
after his arrival in the capital, Cortes received tidings from the
coast which caused him greater alarm than even the threatened
insurrection of the Aztecs. The jealous governor of Cuba was
sending an expedition to Des Cortes.
It was the news of the arrival of this fleet at the place where he
had himself landed at first that had caused Cortes so much conster-
nation, for he at once suspected that it was sent by his bitter
enemy the governor. The commander of this second expedition,
who was called Narvaez, having landed, soon met with a Spaniard


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 291
inquiry was as to the origin of the tumult, and this was the story
he heard.
The Aztec festival called ' The incensing of Huitzilopochtli' was
about to be celebrated, in which, as it was an important one, nearly
all the nobles took part. The caciques asked the permission of
Alvarado to perform their rites in the teocalli which contained the
chapel of the Spaniards, and to be allowed the presence of Monte-
zuma. This latter request was refused, but he consented to their
using the teocalli provided they came unarmed and held no human
sacrifice. Accordingly, on the day appointed the Aztecs assembled
to the number of at least six hundred. They wore their magnificent
gala costumes, with mantles of featherwork sprinkled with precious
stones, and collars, bracelets, and ornaments of gold. Alvarado and
his men, fully armed, attended as spectators, and when the hapless
natives were engaged in one of their ceremonial dances, they fell
upon them suddenly, sword in hand. Then followed a great and
dreadful slaughter. Unarmed, and taken unawares, the Aztecs
were hewn down without resistance. Those who attempted to
escape by climbing the wall of serpents were speared ruthlessly,
till presently not one of that gay company remained alive; then
the Spaniards added the crowning horror to their dreadful deed by
plundering the bodies of their murdered victims. The tidings of
the massacre flew like wildfire through the capital, and every long-
smothered feeling of hostility burst forth in the cry that arose for
vengeance. The city rose in arms to a man and almost before the
Spaniards could secure themselves in their defences, they were
assaulted with desperate fury: some of the assailants attempted to
scale the walls, others succeeded in partially undermining and
setting fire to the works. It is impossible to say how the attack
would have ended, but the Spaniards entreated Montezuma to
interfere, and he, mounting the battlements, conjured the furious
people to desist from storming the fortress out of regard for his
safety. They so far respected him that they changed their opera-
tions into a regular blockade, throwing up works round the palace
to prevent the egress of the Spaniards, and suspending the market
so that they might not obtain any supplies, and then they sat down
to wait sullenly till famine should throw their enemies into their
hands.
The condition of the besieged was gloomy enough. True their
provisions still held out, but they suffered greatly from want of
water, that within the enclosure being quite brackish, until a fresh
c2


292 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
spring was suddenly discovered in the courtyard. Even then the
fact that scarcely a man had escaped unwounded, and that they had
no prospect before them but a lingering death by famine, or one
more dreadful still upon the altar of sacrifice, made their situation
a very trying one. The coming of their comrades was therefore
doubly welcome. As an explanation of this atrocious act, Alvarado
declared that he had but struck the blow to intimidate the natives
and crush an intended rising of the people, of which he had received
information through his spies.
Cortes listened calmly till the story was finished, then exclaimed
with undisguised displeasure, 'You have done badly. You have
been false to your trust. Your conduct has been that of a mad-
man!' And so saying, he turned and left him abruptly, no doubt
bitterly regretting that he had entrusted so important a command
to one whose frank and captivating exterior was but the mask for a
rash and cruel nature. Vexed with his faithless lieutenant, and
embarrassed by the disastrous consequences of his actions, Cortes
for the first time lost his self-control, and allowed his disgust and
irritation to be plainly seen. He treated Montezuma with haughty
coldness, even speaking of him as 'this dog of a king' in the
presence of his chiefs, and bidding them fiercely go tell their master
and his people to open the markets, or he would do it for them to
their cost. The chiefs retired in deep resentment at the insult,
which they comprehended well enough from his look and gesture,
and the message lost nothing of its effect in transmission. By the
suggestion of Montezuma, Cortes now released his brother Cuitlahua,
thinking he might allay the tumult and bring about a better state
of things. But this failed utterly, for the prince, who was bold and
ambitious, was bitterly incensed by the injuries he had received
from the Spaniards. Moreover, he was the heir presumptive to the
crown, and was welcomed by the people as a substitute for the
captive Montezuma. So being an experienced warrior, he set him-
self to arrange a more efficient plan of operations against the Spaniards, and the effect was soon visible. Cortes, meanwhile, had
so little doubt of his ability to quench the insurrection that he said
as much in the letter that he wrote to the garrison of Villa Rica
informing them of his safe arrival in the capital. But his messenger
had not been gone half-an-hour before he returned breathless with
terror, and covered with wounds, saying that the city was in arms,
the drawbridges were raised, and the enemy would soon be upon
them.


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 295
wand, the symbol of sovereignty, the Indian monarch ascended the
central turret of the palace. His presence was instantly recognised
by the people, and a magical change came over the scene: the
clang of the instruments and the fierce cries of the assailants
ceased, and many in the hushed throng knelt or prostrated them-
selves, while all eyes were turned with eager expectation upon the
monarch whom they had been taught to regard with slavish awe.
Montezuma saw his advantage, and in the presence of his awe-
struck people felt once more a king. With his former calm
authority and confidence he addressed them:
'Why do I see my people here in arms against the palace of my
fathers? Is it that you think your sovereign a prisoner, and wish
to release him? If so you have done well; but you are mistaken.
I am no prisoner. The strangers are my guests. I remain with
them only for choice, and can leave them when I will. Have you
come to drive them from the city? That is unnecessary; they will
depart of their own accord if you will open a way for them. Return
to your homes then. Lay down your arms. Show your obedience
to me, whose right it is. The white men shall go back to their
land, and all shall be well again within the walls of Mexico.'
As Montezuma declared himself the friend of the detested
strangers a murmur of contempt ran through the multitude. Their
rage and desire for vengeance made them forget their ancient
reverence, and turned them against their unfortunate monarch.
'Base Aztec,' they cried, 'woman, coward! The white men
have made you a woman, fit only to weave and spin.'
A chief of high rank brandished a javelin at Montezuma, as
these taunts were uttered, and in an instant the place where he
stood was assailed with a cloud of stones and arrows. The
Spaniards, who had been thrown off their guard by the respect
shown by the people on their lord's appearance, now hastily inter-
posed their shields, but it was too late: Montezuma was wounded
by three of the missiles, one of which, a stone, struck him on the
head with such violence that he fell senseless to the ground. The
Mexicans, shocked at their own sacrilegious act, set up a dismal cry,
and dispersed panic-stricken until not one of all the host remained
in the great square before the palace. Meanwhile, the unhappy
king was borne to his own apartments, and as soon as he recovered
from his insensibility the full misery of his situation broke upon
him. He had tasted the last bitterness of degradation. He had
been reviled and rejected by his people. Even the meanest of the


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 299
necessary between each flight to pass by a kind of terrace, right
round the building, so that a distance of nearly a mile had to be
traversed before reaching the top. Cortes sprang up the lower
stairway, followed by Alvarado, Sandoval, Ordaz, and the other
gallant cavaliers, leaving a strong detachment to hold the enemy in
check at the foot of the temple. On every terrace as well as on the
topmost platform the Aztec warriors were drawn up to dispute his
passage. From their elevated position they showered down heavy
stones, beams, and burning rafters, which thundering along the
stairway overturned the ascending Spaniards and carried desolation
through their ranks. The more fortunate, eluding or springing
over these obstacles, succeeded in gaining the first terrace, where
they fell upon their enemies and compelled them to give way, and
then, aided by a brisk fire from the musketeers below, they pressed
on, forcing their opponents to retreat higher and higher, until at
last they were glad to take shelter on the broad summit of the
Des Cortes and his companions were close behind them, and
the two parties soon found themselves face to face upon this strange
battle-field, engaged in mortal combat in the presence of the whole
city, while even the troops in the courtyard ceased hostilities, as if
by mutual consent, and watched with breathless interest the issue
of the struggle.
The Spaniards and Mexicans closed with the desperate fury of
men who have no hope but in victory. Quarter was neither asked
nor given, and to fly was impossible. The edge of the platform was
unprotected by parapet or battlement, and many of the combatants,
as they struggled together, were seen to roll over the edge of the
precipice, locked in a death-grip. Cortes himself but narrowly
escaped this frightful fate. Two powerful warriors had seized upon
him, and were dragging him violently towards the side of the pyra-
mid, when, by sheer strength, he tore himself from their grasp and
hurled one of them over the brink with his own arm.
The battle raged unceasingly for three hours. The number of
the Mexicans was double that of the Spaniards, but the armour of
the latter and their skill as swordsmen outweighed the odds against
them. Resistance grew fainter and fainter on the side of the Aztecs.
The priests, who had run to and fro among them with streaming
hair and wild gestures, encouraging and urging them on, were all
slain or captured. One by one the warriors fell dead upon the blood-
drenched pavement, or were hurled from the dizzy height, until at
last the wild struggle ceased, and the Spaniards stood alone upon


300 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
the field of battle. Their victory had cost them dear, for forty-five
of their comrades lay dead, and nearly all the remainder were more
or less seriously wounded; but there was no time for regrets. The
victorious cavaliers rushed to the sanctuaries to find that the cross
and the image of the Virgin had disappeared from the one they had

appropriated, and that in the other, before the grim figure of Huitzi-
lopochtli, lay the usual offering of human hearts, possibly those of
their own countrymen! With shouts of triumph the Spaniards
tore the hideous idol from its niche, and in the sight of the horror-
stricken Aztecs hurled it down the steps of the teocalli, and, after


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 301
having set fire to the sanctuaries, descended joyfully into the court-
yard.
Passing through the ranks of the Mexicans, who were too much
dismayed by all they had witnessed to offer any resistance, they
reached their own quarters in safety, and that very night they fol-
lowed up the blow they had struck by sallying forth into the sleeping
town and burning three hundred houses. Cortes now hoped that
the natives were sufficiently subdued to be willing to come to terms
with him. He therefore invited them to a parley, and addressed
the principal chiefs, who had assembled in the great square, from the
turret before occupied by Montezuma. As usual, Marina interpreted
for him, and the Indians gazed curiously at their countrywoman,
whose influence with the Spanish general was well known. Cortes
told them that they must now know how little they had to hope from
their opposition to the Spaniards. They had seen their gods trampled
in the dust, their altars destroyed, their dwellings burned, and their
warriors falling on all sides. 'All this,' he continued, 'you have
brought upon yourselves by your rebellion. Yet, for the sake of the
affection felt for you by the sovereign you have treated so unworthily,
I would willingly stay my hand if you will lay down your arms and
return once more to your obedience. But if you do not,' he con-
cluded, ' I will make your city a heap of ruins, and leave not a soul
alive to mourn over it.'
But the Spanish commander did not yet understand the character
of the Aztecs if he thought to intimidate them by menaces. It was
true, they replied, that he had destroyed their temples, broken in
pieces their gods, and massacred their countrymen. Many more
doubtless were yet to fall under their terrible swords. But they
were content so long as for every thousand Mexicans they could
shed the blood of a single white man. 'Look out,' they said, 'upon
our streets and terraces. See them still thronged with warriors as
far as your eyes can reach. Our numbers are scarcely diminished
by our losses. Yours, on the contrary, are lessening hour by hour.
Your provisions and water are failing. You are perishing from
hunger and sickness; you must soon fall into our hands. The
bridges are broken down and you cannot escape! There will be
too few of you left to glut the vengeance of our gods.' With this
they discharged a volley of arrows, which compelled the Spaniards
to beat a speedy retreat from the turret. The fierce answer of the
Aztecs filled the besieged with dismay.
The general himself, pressed by enemies without and factions


302 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
within, was, as usual, only roused to more energetic action by a
situation which would have paralysed any ordinary mind. He
calmly surveyed his position before deciding what course he would
pursue. To retreat was hazardous, and it mortified him cruelly to
abandon the city in which he had so long been master and the rich
treasure which he had secured, with which he had hoped to pro-
pitiate the King of Spain. To fly now was to acknowledge himself
further than ever from the conquest and to give great opportunity
to his enemy, the Governor of Cuba, to triumph over him. On the
other hand, with his men daily diminishing in strength and numbers,
with the stock of provisions so nearly exhausted that one small
daily ration of bread was all the soldiers had, with the breaches in
his fortifications widening every day and his ammunition nearly
gone, it was manifestly impossible to hold the place much longer
against the enemy. Having reached this conclusion, the next diffi-
culty was to decide how and when it would be well to evacuate the
city. He tried to fight his way out, but he failed, and when night fell
the Mexicans dispersed as usual, and the Spaniards, tired, famished,
and weak from their wounds, slowly re-entered the citadel, only to
receive tidings of a fresh misfortune. Montezuma was dead. 'The
tidings of his death,' says the old Spanish chronicler, 'were re-
ceived with real grief by every cavalier and soldier in the army
who had had access to his person, for we all loved him as a father,
and no wonder, seeing how good he was.'
Montezuma's death was a real misfortune for the Spaniards.
While he lived there was still a possibility of his influence with the
natives being of use to them. Now that hope was gone. The
Spanish commander showed all respect for his memory. His body,
arrayed in its royal robes, was laid upon a bier, and borne on the
shoulders of those nobles who had remained with him to the last to
his subjects in the city, whose wailings over it were distinctly heard
by the Spaniards; but where he was buried, and with what honours,
they never knew.
The Spanish general now called a council to decide as speedily
as possible the all-important question of the retreat. It was his
intention to fall back upon Tlascala, and once there to arrange
according to circumstances his future operations. There was
some difference of opinion as to the hour of departure; but owing
to the predictions of a soldier named Botello, who pretended to be
able to read the stars, and who announced that to leave the city
at night would be for the good of his comrades, though he himself


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 303
would meet his death through it, it was decided that the fortress
should be abandoned that very night. After events proved that
Botello's prophecy was unfortunately only true as far as he himself
was concerned.
The general's first care was to provide for the safe conveyance
of the treasure. The soldiers had most of them converted their
share into gold chains or collars which could be easily carried about
their persons. But the royal fifth, with that of Cortes himself and
his principal officers, was in bars and wedges of solid gold.
That belonging to the crown was now given in charge to the
royal officers, with the strongest horse to carry it, and a special
guard for its protection. But much treasure belonging to the
crown and to private individuals was necessarily abandoned, and
the precious metal lay in shining heaps upon the floors of the palace.
'Take what you will of it,' said Cortes to the soldiers; 'better you
should have it than those Mexican hounds. But be careful not to
overload yourselves: he travels safest who travels lightest.' His
own wary soldiers took heed to his counsel, taking few treasures,
and those of the smallest size. But the troops of Narvaez thought
that the very mines of Mexico lay open before them, and the riches
for which they had risked so much were within their reach at last.
Bushing upon the spoil, they loaded themselves with all they could
possibly carry or stow away.
Cortes next arranged the order of march. The van consisted of
two hundred Spanish foot, commanded by Sandoval, with twenty
other cavaliers. The rest of the infantry formed the rear-guard
under Alvarado and De Leon, while the general himself took charge
of the centre, some of the heavy guns, the baggage, the treasure,
and the prisoners, among whom were a son and two daughters of
Montezuma, Cacama, and several nobles. The Tlascalans were
pretty equally divided among the three divisions. The general had
previously superintended the construction of a portable bridge to be
laid across the open canals. This was entrusted to the care of an
officer named Magarino and forty men, all pledged to defend the
passage to the last extremity. Well would it have been if three
such bridges had been made, but the labour would have been great
and the time was short. At midnight all was ready, and after a
solemn mass had been celebrated by Father Olmedo, the Spaniards
for the last time sallied forth from the ancient fortress, the scene of
so much suffering and of such great courage.


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 305
jammed it firmly into the sides of the dyke, and it was absolutely
immovable. Not till many of his men were slain and all wounded
did Magarino abandon the attempt, and then the dreadful tidings
spread rapidly from man to man, and a cry of despair arose. All
means of retreat were cut off; they were held as in a trap. Order
and discipline were at an end, for no one could hope to escape
except by his own desperate exertions. Those behind pressed for-
ward, trampling the weak and wounded under foot, heeding not
friend or foe. Those in front were forced over the edge of the gulf,
across which some of the cavaliers succeeded in swimming their

horses, but many failed, or rolled back into the lake in attempting
to ascend the opposite bank. The infantry followed pell-mell, heaped
one upon the other, frequently pierced by the Aztec arrows, or struck
down by their clubs, and dragged into the canoes to be reserved for
a more dreadful death. All along the causeway the battle raged
fiercely.
The Mexicans clambered continually up the sides of the dyke,
and grappled with the Spaniards, till they rolled together down into
the canoes. But while the Aztecs fell among friends, his unhappy
antagonist was secured, and borne away in triumph to the sacrifice.
x


306 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
The struggle was long and deadly, but by degrees the opening in the
causeway was filled up by the wreck of the waggons, guns, rich
bales of stuffs, chests of solid ingots, and bodies of men and horses
which had fallen into it ; and over this dismal ruin those in the rear
were able to reach the other side. Cortes had found a place that
was fordable, and, halting halfway across, had vainly endeavoured to
check the confusion, and lead his followers safely to the opposite bank.
But his voice was lost in the wild uproar; and at length, attended by
a few trusty cavaliers, he pushed forward to the front. Here he
found Sandoval and his companions, halting before the last breach,
trying to cheer on the soldiers to attempt the crossing; but, though
not so beset with enemies as the last, it was wide and deep, and the
men's resolution failed them. Again the cavaliers set the example,
by plunging into the lake. Horse and foot followed, swimming or
clinging to the manes and tails of the horses. Those fared best, as
the general had predicted, who travelled lightest, and many were
the unfortunate wretches, who, weighed down by the fatal treasure,
were buried with it at the bottom of the lake. Cortes, with a few
others, still kept in advance, leading the miserable remnant off the
causeway. The din of battle was growing faint in the distance, when
the rumour reached them that, without speedy succour, the rearguard
must be utterly overwhelmed. It seemed a desperate venture, but
the cavaliers, without thinking of the danger, turned their horses,
and galloped back to the relief of their comrades. Swimming the
canal again, they threw themselves into the thick of the fray. The
first gleam of morning light showed the hideous confusion of the
scene; the masses of combatants upon the dyke were struggling till the
very causeway seemed to rock, while as far as the eye could see, the
lake was covered with a dense crowd of canoes full of warriors.
The cavaliers found Alvarado unhorsed, and, with a mere handful of
followers, defending himself against an overwhelming tide of the
enemy, who by this time possessed the whole rear of the causeway,
and received constant reinforcements from the city. The Spanish
artillery, which had done good service at first, had been overthrown,
an1 utterly confounded by the rush from the back. In the general
ruin, Cortes strove by a resolute charge to give his countrymen time
to rally, but it was only for a moment: they were speedily borne
down by the returning rush. The general and his companions were
forced to plunge into the lake once more, though with their numbers
reduced this time, and Alvarado stood for an instant upon the brink,
uncertain what to do. There was no time to be lost. He was a


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 309
enemy, and on no account to lose their hold of them. The infantry
were to thrust, not strike, with their swords, and above all to make
for the leaders of the enemy, and then, after a few brave words of
encouragement, he and his little band began to descend the hill,
rushing, as it seemed, to certain destruction. The enemy met them
with the usual storm of stones and arrows, but when the Spaniards
closed with them, their superiority became apparent, and the natives
were thrown into confusion by their own numbers as they fell back
from the charge. The infantry followed up their advantage, and a
wide lane was opened in the ranks of the enemy, who receded on all
sides as if to allow them a free passage. But it was only to return
with fresh fury, and soon the little army was entirely surrounded,
standing firmly, protected on all sides by its bristling swords and
lances, like an island in the midst of a raging sea. In spite of many
gallant deeds and desperate struggles, the Spaniards found themselves,
at the end of several hours, only more deeply wedged in by the dense
masses of the enemy. Cortes had received another wound, in the
head, his horse had fallen under him, and he had been obliged to
mount one taken from the baggage train. The fiery rays of the sun
poured down upon the nearly exhausted soldiers, who were beginning
to despair and give way, while the enemy, constantly reinforced from
the rear, pressed on with redoubled fury. At this critical moment
the eagle eye of Cortes, ever on the watch for any chance of arrest-
ing the coming ruin, descried in the distance a chief, who, from his
dress and surroundings, he knew must be the commander of the
Aztec forces. He wore a rich surcoat of feather-work, and a
gorgeous plume of jewelled feathers floated from his helmet, while
above this, and attached to his back between the shoulders, showed
a golden net fastened to a short staff—the customary symbol of
authority for an Aztec commander. Turning quickly round to
Sandoval, Olid, Alvarado, and Avila who surrounded him, he cried,
pointing to the chief, 'There is our mark! Follow and support me!'
And shouting his war-cry he plunged into the thickest of the press.
Taken by surprise the enemy fell back; those who could not escape
were trampled under his horse's feet, or pierced by his long lance;
the cavaliers followed him closely; in a few minutes they were
close to the Aztec chief, and Cortes hurled him to the ground with
one stroke from his lance; a young cavalier named Juan de Sala-
manca hastily dismounted and slew him where he lay, and tearing
away his banner presented it to the Spanish general. The cacicruc's
guard, overpowered by this sudden onset, tied precipitately, and


310 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
their panic spread to the other Indians, who, on hearing of the death
of their chief, fought no more, but thought only of escape. In their
blind terror they impeded and trampled down their own comrades,
and the Spaniards, availing themselves fully of the marvellous turn
affairs had taken, pursued them off the field, and then returned to
secure the rich booty they had left behind them.
Cortes reached Tlascala in safety, and at once began to prepare
his revenge on the Mexicans, aided by reinforcements of a few
Spaniards from Vera Cruz. Gunpowder had also to be manufac-

tured, and a cavalier named Francio Montaho undertook the perilous
task of obtaining sulphur for the purpose from the terrible volcano of
Popocatepetl, He set out with four comrades, and after some days
journeying, they reached the dense forest which covered the base
of the mountain, and forcing their way upward, came by degrees to
a more open region. As they neared the top the track ended, and
they had to climb as best they could over the black glazed surface
of the lava, which, having issued from the crater in a boiling flood,
had risen into a thousand odd forms wherever it met with any
obstacle, and continually impeded their progress. After this they


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 311
arrived at the region of perpetual snow, which increased their
difficulties, the treacherous ice giving way at every step, so that

many times they narrowly escaped falling into the frozen chasm that yawned all round them. At last, however, they reached the


312 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIBE
mouth of the crater, and, crawling cautiously to the very edge,
peered down into its gloomy depths. At the bottom of the abyss,
which seemed to them to go down into the very heart of the earth,
a lurid flame burned sullenly, sending up a sulphureous steam,
which cooling as it rose, fell again in showers upon the sides of the
cavity. Into this one of the brave explorers had to descend, and
when they had cast lots the choice fell upon Montano himself. His
preparations were soon made, and his companions lowered him in
a basket into the horrible chasm to a depth of four hundred feet,
and there as he hung, he scraped the sulphur from the sides of the
crater, descending again and again until he had procured enough
for the wants of the army, with which they returned triumphantly
to Tlascala. Meanwhile the construction of the ships went forward
prosperously, and by Christmas, in the year 1520, there was no
longer any reason to delay the march to Mexico.
While all these preparations were being made, some changes
had taken place among the Aztecs. Cuitlahua had suddenly died
after reigning four months, and Guatemozin his nephew had
been chosen in his stead. This young prince had married one of
Montezuma's daughters. He was handsome and valiant, and so
terrible that his followers trembled in his presence. He had a sort
of religious hatred of the Spaniards, and prepared manfully to meet
the perils which he saw threatening his country, for by means of
spies he had kept a watch upon the movements of the Spaniards,
and had discovered their intention of besieging the capital. Cortes,
upon reviewing his army, found that his whole force fell little short
of six hundred men, of whom forty were cavalry, and eighty arque-
busiers and cross-bowmen. The rest were armed with sword,
target, and the long copper-headed pikes, which had been made
specially by the general's directions. There were also nine cannons
of moderate size, but the supply of powder was but indifferent.
Cortes published a code of strict regulations for the guidance of his
men before they set out, and addressed them as usual with stirring
words, touching all the springs of devotion, honour, and ambition in
their hearts, and rousing their enthusiasm as only he could have
done. His plan of action was to establish his headquarters at some
place upon the Tezcucan lake, whence he could cut off the supplies
from the surrounding country, and place Mexico in a state of
blockade until the completion of his ships should enable him to
begin a direct assault. The most difficult of the three ways into
the valley was the one Cortes chose; it led right across the tuoun-


318 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
forces, and summoned his native allies to furnish their promised
levies at once.
The general's plan of action against Mexico was to send Sandoval
with one division to take possession of Iztapalapan at the southern
end of the lake, while Alvarado and Olid were to secure Tlacopan
and Chapoltepec upon its western shore, and at the latter place
destroy the aqueduct, and so cut off the supply of fresh water from
Mexico. This they did successfully, and in several days of fierce
fighting breach after breach was carried, and the Spaniards pene-
trated the city as far as the great teocalli, driving the natives
before them, while the Tlascalans in the rear filled up the gaps
in the dyke as well as they could, and brought up the heavy
guns. Cortes and his men now pushed their way into the en closure of the temple, and some of them rushed to the top, so
lately the scene of their terrible battle, and there found a fresh
image of the war-god. Tearing away the gold and jewels with
which it was bedecked, they hurled it and its attendant priests over
the side of the pyramid, and hastened down to the assistance of
their comrades, who were by this time in a most perilous position,
the Aztecs having rallied and attacked them furiously. Indeed it
seemed likely to go hard with them, for they were driven helplessly
back down the great street in utter confusion and panic; but the
timely arrival of a small body of cavalry created a diversion
in their favour, and Cortes managed to turn them once more and
drive the enemy back into the enclosure with much loss. As it was
by this time evening, he retreated in good order to Xoloc. Though
this affair caused some consternation among the Mexicans, they
speedily opened the canals and built up the ramparts again, so that
when Cortes renewed the attack the whole scene had to be gone
through as before. When they had once gained the street, however,
they found it much easier to advance, the Tlascalans having on the
last occasion pulled down many of the houses on either side. This
time Cortes had determined to destroy some of the cherished buildings
of the Mexicans, and began by setting fire to his old quarters,
the palace of Axayacatl, and then the palace of Montezuma on
the other side of the great square. The sight so maddened the
natives that the Spaniards had some ado to make good their retreat,
and few reached their camp that night unwounded. The Aztec
emperor for his part made frequent sallies against the Spaniards
both by land and upon the lake, sometimes with considerable suc-
cess. At first he managed to obtain supplies of food in canoes,


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 819
under cover of the darkness, but by degrees the large towns on the
mainland, seeing the Mexicans unable to defend themselves, gave
in their allegiance to the Spaniards, and then starvation began to
be felt in the unhappy city. In spite of everything, however, all
offers of terms from Cortes were steadily refused.
At this juncture, the general was persuaded by some of his
officers that it would be well for two of the divisions to unite, and
occupy the great market-place in the heart of the town, and so at
a given time they marched along their respective causeways and
entered the city. Strict orders were given by Cortes that as
they advanced every opening in the causeways should be filled
up and made secure. The attack began, and the enemy, taken
apparently by surprise, gave way and fell back; on rushed the
Spaniards by every street, eager to reach the appointed meeting
place. Only the general suspected that the enemy might be
purposely luring them on to turn upon them when they were
hopelessly involved. Taking a few men with him, he hastily pro-
ceeded to see for himself if the way was clear, should a retreat
become necessary, and found, as he had feared, that all had
been too eager to be in the front to attend to this most important
duty. In the first street he traversed was a huge gap, twelve feet
wide, and at least as many deep, full of water, for it connected two
canals. A feeble attempt had been made to fill this up with beams
and rubbish, but it had been left before any good had been done.
Worse than all Cortes saw that this breach was freshly made, and
that his officers had probably rushed headlong into a snare laid by
the enemy. Before his men could do anything towards filling up
the trench, the distant sounds of the battle changed into an ever-
increasing tumult, the mingled yells and war cries, and the tram-
pling of many feet grew nearer, and at last, to his horror, Cortes
beheld his men driven to the edge of the fatal gulf, confused, help-
less, surrounded by their foes. The foremost files were soon
hurried over the edge, some trying to swim across, some beaten
down by the struggles of their comrades, or pierced by the darts of
the Indians. In vain with outstretched hands did Cortes try to
rescue his soldiers from death, or worse still from capture; he was
soon recognised, and six of the enemy tried to seize and drag him
into a canoe. It was only after a severe struggle, in which he was
wounded in the leg, that he was rescued by his brave followers.
Two were killed in the attempt, while another was taken alive
as he held the general's horse for him to mount. In all, sixty


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 321
famine and pestilence did their awful work unchecked. The
ordinary articles of food were long exhausted, and the wretched
people ate moss, insects, grass, weeds, or the bark of trees. They
had no fresh water. The dead were unburied, the wounded lay in
misery, yet all the endeavours of Cortes to induce Guatemozin and
his chiefs to submit were useless. Though the two divisions of the
army had proceeded with their work of destruction until they could
join their forces, and seven-eighths of the city lay in ruins, though
the banner of Castile floated undisturbed from the smouldering
remains of the sanctuary on the teocalli of the war-god, still the
Aztecs defied the conquerors, and fiercely rejected their overtures
of peace.
Hundreds of famishing wretches died every day, and lay where
they fell, for there was no one to bury them. Familiarity with the
spectacle made men indifferent to it. They looked on in dumb
despair waiting for their own turn to come. There was no com-
plaint or lamentation, but deep, unutterable woe. In the midst of
this appalling misery Guatemozin remained calm and courageous,
and as firmly resolved not to capitulate as at the beginning of
the siege. It is even said that when Cortes persuaded a noble
Aztec prisoner to bear his proposals for a treaty to the emperor,
Guatemozin instantly ordered him to be sacrificed. The general,
who had suspended hostilities for several days hoping for a favour-
able answer to his message, now resolved to drive him to submission
by a general assault, and for that purpose led his men across the
dreary waste of ruins to the narrow quarter of the city into which
the wretched Mexicans had retreated. But he was met by several
chiefs, who, holding out their emaciated arms, exclaimed, 'Why
do you delay so long to put an end to our miseries? Rather kill
us at once that we may go to our god Huitzilopochtli, who waits to
give us rest from our sufferings!'
Cortes, moved by the piteous sight, replied that he desired not
their death but their submission. 'Why does your master refuse to
treat with me,' he said, 'when in a single hour I can crush him and
all his people?' Then once more he sent to demand an interview
with Guatemozin. This time the emperor hesitated, and agreed
that next day he would meet the Spanish general, Cortes, well
satisfied, withdrew his force, and next morning presented himself
at the appointed place in the great square, where a stone platform
had been spread with mats and carpets and a banquet made ready.
But after all Guatemozin, instead of cominghimself, sent his nobles.
y


322 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE
Cortes, though greatly disappointed, received them courteously, per-
suading them to partake of the feast he had prepared, and dismissing
them with a supply of provisions for their master and a renewed
entreaty that he would next day come in person. But though he
waited for three hours beyond the time appointed, neither the
emperor nor his chiefs appeared, and the general heard that the
Mexicans were preparing to resist an assault. He delayed no
longer, but ordering Sandoval to support him by bringing up the
ships and directing his big guns against the houses near the water,
he marched at once into the enemy's quarters. The Mexicans set
up a fierce war-cry, and with their usual spirit sent off clouds of
arrows and darts; but the struggle soon became a hand-to-hand
one; and weakened by starvation and hemmed in as they were the
unhappy Aztecs had no chance against their foes. After a scene of
indescribable horror, which appalled even the soldiers of Cortes, used
as they were to war and violence, the Spanish commander sounded
a retreat and withdrew to his quarters, leaving behind him forty
thousand corpses and a smouldering ruin. Through the long night
that followed all was silent in the Mexican quarter. There was
neither light nor movement. This last blow seemed to have utterly
stunned them. They had nothing left to hope for. In the Spanish
camp, however, all was rejoicing at the prospect of a speedy termi-
nation to the wearisome campaign. The great object of Cortes was
now to secure the person of Guatemozin, and the next day, which
was August 13, 1521, he led his forces for the last time across the
black and blasted ruin which was all that remained of the once
beautiful city. In order to give the distressed garrison one more
ehanee, he obtained an interview with the principal chiefs and
reasoned with them about the conduct of their emperor.
'Surely,' he said, ' Guatemozin will not see you all perish when
he can so easily save you.' But when he had with difficulty pre-
vailed upon them to urge the king to confer with him, the only
answer they could bring was that Guatemozin was ready to die
where he was, but would hold no communication with the Spanish
commander. 'Go then,' replied the stern conqueror, 'and prepare
your countrymen for death. Their last moment is come.' Still,
however, he postponed the attack for several hours; but the troops
were impatient at the delay, and a rumour spread that Guatemozin
was preparing to escape by the lake. It was useless to hesitate:
the word was given, and the terrible scene that ensued repeated the
horrors of the day before. While this was going forward on shore


324 THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE:
long to give their sovereign a better chance of escape. Cortes, who
had taken up his station on the flat roof of one of the houses, now
sent to command that Guatemozin should be brought before him,
and he came, escorted by Sandoval and Holguin, who each claimed
the honour of having captured him. The conqueror, who was, as
usual, accompanied by the Lady Marina, came forward with digni-
fied courtesy to receive his noble prisoner. The Aztec monarch
broke the silence saying, ' I have done all I could to defend myself
and my people. I am now reduced to this state. Deal with me,
Malinche, as you will.' Then laying his hand on a dagger which
hung from the belt of Cortes, he added, 'Better despatch me at
once with this and rid me of life.'
'Fear not,' answered the conqueror. 'You shall be treated with
honour. You have defended your capital like a brave warrior, and
a Spaniard knows how to respect valour even in an enemy.' He
then sent for the queen, who had remained on board the Spanish
ship, and after ordering that the royal captives should be well
cared for and supplied with all they needed, he proceeded to dis-
pose of his troops. Olid and Alvarado drew off their divisions to
their quarters, leaving only a small guard in the wasted suburbs of
the pestilence-stricken city, whilst the general himself, with
Sandoval and the prisoners, retired to a town at the end of the
southern causeway. That night a tremendous tempest arose, such
as the Spaniards had never before witnessed, shaking to its founda-
tions all that remained of the city of Mexico. The next day, at
the request of Guatemozin, the Mexicans were allowed to leave
the capital, and for three days a mournful train of men, women,
and children struggled feebly across the causeways, sick and
wounded, wasted with famine and misery, turning often to take
one more look at the spot which was once their pleasant home.
When they were gone the conquerors took possession of the
place and purified it as speedily as possible, burying the dead and
lighting huge bonfires in the deserted streets. The treasure of gold
and jewels found in it fell far short of the expectation of the
Spaniards, the Aztecs having probably buried their hoards or
sunk them in the lake on purpose to disappoint the avarice of their
enemies. Cortes, therefore, to his eternal disgrace, caused Guate-
mozin to be tortured; but fire and cord could not wring the secret
of the treasure from this illustrious prince. In later days Cortes
hanged Guatemozin, on pretence of a conspiracy. Cortes, having
no further need for his native allies, now dismissed them with


THE CONQUEST OF MONTEZUMA'S EMPIRE 325
presents and flattering speeches, and they departed well pleased,
loaded with the plunder of the Mexican houses, which was despised
by the Spanish soldiers. Great was the satisfaction of the con-
querors at having thus brought the long campaign successfully to
an end. Cortes celebrated the event by a banquet as sumptuous
as circumstances would permit, and the next day, at the request
of Father Olmedo, the whole army took part in a solemn service
and procession in token of their" thankfulness for victory.
Thus, after a siege of nearly three months, in which the be-
leaguered Mexicans showed a constancy and courage under their
sufferings which is unmatched in history, fell the renowned capital
of the Aztecs, and with its fall the story of the nation comes to an
end.
The Aztec empire fell by its own sin. The constant capture of
men from neighbouring states as victims for sacrifice had caused
the Aztecs to be hated; thus Cortes obtained the aid of the Tlasca-
lans, but for which even his courage and energy would have been
of no avail. He deserted Marina when she ceased to be useful,
and gave her as a wife to one of his followers.


ADVENTURES OF BARTHOLOMEW PORTUGUES,
A PIRATE
ACERTAIN pirate, born in Portugal, and from the name of his
country called Bartholomew Portugues, was cruising from
Jamaica in his boat (in which he had only thirty men and four
small guns) near the Cape de Corrientes, in the island of Cuba. In
this place he met with a great ship bound for the Havana, well
provided, with twenty great guns and threescore and ten men,
passengers and mariners. This ship he assaulted, but found
strongly defended by them that were on board. The pirate escaping
the first encounter, resolved to attack her more vigorously than
before, seeing he had sustained no great damage hitherto. This
resolution he boldly performed, renewing his assaults so often that
after a long and dangerous fight he became master of the great
vessel, having lost only ten men, and had four wounded.
Having possessed themselves of such a ship, and the wind being
contrary for returning into Jamaica, the pirates resolved to steer
towards the Cape of St. Anthony, on the western side of the isle of
Cuba, there to repair themselves and take in fresh water, of which
they had great necessity at the time.
Being now very near the cape above mentioned, they unex-
pectedly met with three great ships that were coming from New
Spain, and bound for the Havana. By these, not being able to
escape, were easily retaken both ship and pirates. Thus they were
all made prisoners through the sudden change of fortune, and found
themselves poor, oppressed, and stripped of all the riches they had
won.
Two days after this misfortune there happened to arise a huge
and dangerous tempest, which separated the ships one from another.
The great vessel in which the pirates were arrived at Campeche,
where many considerable merchants came to salute and welcome
the captain. These knew the Portuguese pirate as one who had


ADVENTURES OF BARTHOLOMEW PORTUGUES 327
committed innumerable crimes upon these coasts, not only murders
and robberies, but also lamentable burnings, which those of Campeche
still preserved very fresh in their memory.
The next day after their arrival the magistrates of the city sent
several of their officers to demand and take into custody the
prisoners from on board the ship, with intent to punish them
according to their deserts. Yet fearing lest the captain of the
pirates should escape out of their hands on shore (as he had
formerly done, being once their prisoner in the city before), they
judged it more convenient to leave him safely guarded on board the
ship for the present. In the meanwhile they caused a gibbet to be
erected, whereon to hang him the very next day, without any other
form of trial than to lead him from the ship to the place of punish-
ment.
The rumour of this tragedy was presently brought to the ears of
Bartholomew Portugues, and he sought all the means he could to
escape that night. With this design he took two earthen jars, in
which the Spaniards usually carry wine from Spain to the West
Indies, and he stopped them very well, intending to use them for
swimming, as those who are unskilled in that art do a sort of
pumpkins in Spain, and in other places they use empty bladders.
Having made this necessary preparation, he waited for the night
when all should be asleep, even the sentry that guarded him. But
seeing he could not escape his vigilance, he secretly purchased a
knife, and with the same gave him a stab that suddenly deprived
him of life and the possibility of making any noise. At that instant
Bartholomew Portugues committed himself to the sea, with those
two earthen jars before mentioned, and by their help and support,
though never having learned to swim, he reached the shore.
Having landed, without any delay he took refuge in the woods, where
he hid himself for three days without daring to appear, not eating
any food but wild herbs.
Those of the city failed not the next day to make diligent search
for him in the woods, where they concluded him to be. This strict
search Bartholomew Portugues watched from the hollow of a tree,
wherein he lay concealed. Seeing them return without finding
what they sought for, he adventured to sally forth towards the
coast of Golfotriste, forty leagues distant from the city of Campeche.
Here he arrived within a fortnight after his escape from the ship,
in which time, as also afterwards, he endured extreme hunger,
thirst, and fear of falling again into the hands of the Spaniards.


328 ADVENTURES OF BARTHOLOMEW POItTUGUES
For during all this journey he had no provision but a small
calabash with a little water: neither did he eat anything but a few
shellfish, which he found among the rocks nigh the seashore.
Besides this, he was compelled to pass some rivers, not knowing

well how to swim. Being in this distress, he found an old board
which the waves had thrown upon the shore, in which there stuck
a few great nails. These he took, and with no small labour whetted
against a stone, until he made them sharp like knives. With these,


330
THE RETURN OF THE FRENCH
FREEBOOTERS 1
IN January, 1G88, the daring band of French pirates who, some-
times alone, sometimes in company with English captains, had
been cruising in the South Seas, resolved to return to St. Domingo
with all the treasure they had won from the Spaniards. But it
was manifest that this return would be a matter of great difficulty.
They had not one seaworthy vessel left in which to set out for a
long voyage, and, with forces exhausted by the frightful hardships
they had gone through in the past years, they had to pass through
a country peopled by Spaniards —cowardly, indeed, but innumerable,
and only longing for revenge on the reckless crew that had plun-
dered so many of their rich ships and towns. Moreover, provisions
were scarce among the Spaniards themselves, and it seemed likely
that the freebooters, in their passage, would find scant entertain-
ment. But they were determined to risk everything, and having
prayed, and sunk their canoes that the Spaniards might make no
use of them, they set out on their journey. What followed is thus
recounted by one of their party, Baveneau de Lussan :—
The Spaniards, having been warned of our approach, employed
every means they could think of for our destruction, burning all
the provisions before us, setting fire to the prairies we entered, so
that we and our horses were almost stifled, and continually blocking
our way with great barricades of trees. About three hundred of
them formed themselves into a kind of escort, and morning and
evening diverted us with the sound of trumpets, but never dared
to show their faces.
A detachment of our men were always set to fire into woods
and thickets, to find out if a Spanish ambush were concealed there.
1 'The return of the French Freebooters from the South Sea, by the mainland, in
1CSH.' Written by Sieur Raveneau de Lussan, one of the party, taken from his Journal
ilu voyagefait a la Mer du Sud aixe lesflibustiers de VAmMgue en 1684 etamties suivantes.
Paris. 1089.


RETURN OF THE FRENCH FREEBOOTERS 831
f
On January 9 we reached an opening in the forest where we could
see a good way before us, and therefore did not fire. But we had
been looking in front for what was really on both sides of us, for
in the bushes right and left the Spaniards were crouching, and
presently they let fly on us so suddenly that only half the guard
had time to fire back, and two of our men were killed on the spot.
On the 10th we found another ambush, where we surprised our

enemies, who took to flight, abandoning their horses, which became
our property.
On the 11th, as we drew near Segovia, we found yet
another ambuscade, which we forced to retire, and passed into the
town, ready to fight our best—for we thought that here the
Spaniards might make a great effort to expel us. But they only
discharged their muskets at us now and then from the shelter of
the pine-wood above the town, into which they had fled. But we
found nothing to eat, for they had burned all the provisions.


RETURN OF THE FRENCH FREEBOOTERS 333
steps without daring to approach, we would leave eighty men to
guard them—enough to beat four times as many Spaniards.
At nightfall we set out, leaving our eighty men, with orders to the
sentinels to fire and beat the retreat and the diane at the usual times,
to make the three hundred Spaniards who lurked near us think that
we had not left the camp. If we were successful we would send back
messengers with the good news, but if, an hour after the firing
ended, none of us returned, they were to escape how they could.
All being arranged, we prayed in a low voice, not to be heard
by the Spaniards, and set out by the moonlight, two hundred men
of us, through this country of rocks, woods, and frightful precipices,
where we went leaping and climbing, our feet seeming to be much
less use to us than our hands and knees.
On the 14th, at the break of day, when we had already
gained a great height, and were climbing on in profound silence,
with the Spanish intrenchments to our left, we saw a sentry party,
which, thanks to the fog—always thick in this country till ten
o'clock in the morning—did not discover us. When it had passed
we went straight to the place where we had seen it, and we found
that there was really a road there. This, when we had halted
half an hour to take breath, we followed, guided by the voices of
the Spaniards, who were at matins. But we had only gone a few
steps when we found two sentinels, very far advanced, on whom we
were forced to fire, which warned the Spaniards, who dreamed of
nothing less than our coming upon them from above, since they
only expected us from below. So those who guarded the entrench- ment—about five hundred men—being taken at a disadvantage
when they thought they had all the advantage on their side, were
so terribly frightened that, when we fell upon them all at once,
they vanished from the place in an instant, and escaped into the
thick fog.
This unexpected assault so utterly upset their plans that the
men in the second intrenchment all passed into the lowest one,
where they prepared to defend themselves. We fought them a
whole hour, under cover of the first intrenchment, which we had
taken, and which commanded them, being higher up the mountain
side. But as they would not yield we fancied our shots must have
missed, since the fog hindered us from seeing our foes distinctly, so,
resolved to waste no more powder, we went down, and fell right on
the spot whence they had been firing. Then we assailed them
furiously, and at sight of our weapons close upon them—which


334 RETURN OF THE FRENCH FREEBOOTERS
hitherto the fog had concealed—they left everything, and tied into
the road below the intrenchments. Here they fell into their own
trap ; for, thinking it was the only road we could possibly come by,
they had cut down trees and blocked it up, and their way being
stopped, we could fire upon them from their intrenchment without
once missing aim.
At last, seeing the river in the ravine running down with blood,
and tired of pursuing the fugitives, we spared the few remaining
Spaniards. After we had chanted the ' Te Deum,' sixty of us went
to tell those left in the camp of the victory which Heaven had
vouchsafed to us. We found them on the point of giving battle to
the three hundred Spaniards, who had already (on finding out their
weakness) sent a message to them by an officer to tell them that
it was hopeless for them to expect to cross the valley, and to offer
terms of peace. To which our men replied that were there as many
Spaniards as the blades of grass in the prairie they would not be
afraid, but would pass through in spite of them, and go where they
liked!
The officer, being just dismissed with this message when we
arrived, shrugged his shoulders with astonishment when he saw us
safe back again, and mounted on the horses of his comrades of the
intrenclmients. He rode off with the news to his troop, whom we
presently fired upon, to rid them altogether from their desire to
follow in our wake. Unfortunately for them they had not time to
mount their horses, so after a brief conflict, in which a great number
of them fell, we let the rest go, though we kept their horses. Then,
with our baggage, we joined those of our men who had stayed to
guard the intrenclmients. In both these combats we had only two
men slain and four wounded.
Continuing our journey, we passed one more Spanish intrench-
ment, where, since the news of our victory had gone before us, we
found no resistance. At last, on the sixteenth day of our march,
we reached the river which we had been seeking eagerly, by whose
means we meant to gain the sea into which it flowed.
At once we entered the woods which are on its banks, and
everyone set to work in good earnest to cut down trees, in order
to construct piperies, with which to descend the river. The reader
may perhaps imagine that these piperies were some kind of com-
fortable boat to carry us pleasantly along the stream, but they were
anything but this. We joined together four or five trunks of a kind
of tree with light floating wood, merely stripping off their bark,


RE TURN OF THE FRENCH FREEBOOTERS 335
and binding them, instead of cord, with a climbing plant growing
in those forests, and embracing the trees like ivy, and when these
structures, each large enough to hold two men (and in appearance
something like huge wicker baskets) were completed, vessels and
crew were ready.
The safest plan was to stand upright in them, armed with long
poles to push them off from the rocks, against which the fierce
current every moment threatened to dash them. As it was, they

sank two or three feet deep in the water, so that we were nearly
always immersed up to our waists.
This river rises in the mountains of Segovia, and falls into the
sea at Cape Gracia a Dios, after having flowed for a long distance,
with frightful rapidity, among an infinite number of huge rocks,
and between the most terrible precipices imaginable. We had
to pass more than a hundred cataracts great and small, and
there were three which the most daring of us could not look
at without turning giddy with fear, when we saw and heard
the water plunging from such a height into those horrible gulfs.


330 RETURN OF THE FRENCH FREEBOOTERS
Everything was so fearful that only those who have experienced it
can imagine it; as for me, though I shall all my life have my
memory full of pictures of the perils of that voyage, it would be
impossible for me to give any idea of it which would not be far
below the reality.
We let ourselves go with the current, so rapid that often, in
spite of our resistance, it bore us into foaming whirlpools, where we
were engulfed with our pieces of wood. But happily before the
greatest cataracts, and also just beyond them, there was a basin of
calm water, which made it possible for us to gain the bank, drawing
our piperies after us. Then, taking out of them whatever valuables
we had there, we descended with these, leaping from rock to rock
till we had reached the foot of the cataract. Then one of us would
return and throw the piperies, which we had left behind, down
into the flood—and we below caught them as they descended.
Sometimes, indeed, we failed to catch them, and had to make new
ones.
When we first set out we voyaged all together, that in case of
accident we might come to each other's aid. But in three days,
being out of all danger of the Spaniards, we began to travel sepa-
rately, since a piperie dashed against the rocks had often been
prevented from freeing itself by other piperies which the current
hurled against it. It was arranged for those who descended first,
when they came to an especially dangerous rapid, to hoist a little
flag at the end of a stick, not to warn those behind of the cataract,
since they could hear it nearly a league away, but to mark the side
on which they ought to land. This plan saved a number of lives,
nevertheless many others were lost.
The bananas which we found on the river bank were almost our
only nourishment, and saved us from dying of hunger; for, though
there was plenty of game, our powder and weapons were all wet
and spoiled, so that we could not hunt.
Some days after we had begun to descend the river, as we were
travelling separate, several freebooters who had lost all their spoils
in gambling were guilty of most cruel treachery. Having gone in
advance, these villains concealed themselves behind some rocks
commanding the river, in front of which we all had to pass, and as
everyone was looking after himself, and we descended unsuspiciously,
at some distance from each other—for the reasons already given—
they had time to fix upon and to massacre five Englishmen, who
possessed greater shares of booty than the rest of us. They were


RETURN OF THEFRENCH FREEBOOTERS 337
completely plundered by these assassins, and my companion and I
found their dead bodies on the shore. At night, when we were
encamped on the river bank, I reported what we had seen, and the
story was confirmed both by the absence of the dead Englishmen
and of their murderers, who dared not come back to us, and whom
we never saw again.
On the 20th of February we found the river much wider,
and there were no more cataracts. When we had descended some
leagues further it was very fine, and the current was gentle, and
seeing that the worst of our perils were over, we dispersed into
bands of forty each to make canoes, in which we might safely
complete our voyage down the river.
On the 1st of March, by dint of great diligence, having finished
four canoes, a hundred and twenty of us embarked, leaving the
others, whose canoes were still incomplete, to follow.
On the 9th we reached the mouth of the river in safety, and
lived there among the mulattos and negroes who inhabit the coast,
till an English boat, touching there, took on board fifty of us, of
whom I was one. On the 6th of April, without any other accident,
we arrived at our destination, St. Domingo.
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Just published. Crown 8vo. price Is. Gd.
With 540 Illustrations, including 18 Coloured Plates.
THE OUTDOOB WOBLD
OB
THE YOUNG COLLECTOR'S HANDBOOK.
By W. FUBMAUX, F.R.G.S.
CONTENTS.
Part I.—ANIMAL LIFE.
Chap.
I. Ponds and Streams.
II. Insects and insect Hunting.
III. The Sea-shore.
IV. Snails and Slugs.
Chap.
V. Spiders, Centipedes, and
Millepedes.
VI. Reptiles and Reptile Hunt-
ing.
VII. British Birds.
VIII. British Mammals.
Part II.—THE VEGETABLE WORLD.
Chap. Csap.
IX. Sea-weeds. XIII. Wild Flowers.
X. Fungi.
XIV. Grasses.
XI. Mosses.
XII. Ferns. XV. Our Forest Trees.
Part in.-- THE MINERAL WORLD.
Chap. XVI. Minerals and Fossils.
London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
New York: 15 East 16"' Street.