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 A COMBAT WITH POLAR BEARS 
 
THE WORLD'S HEROE: 
 
 A STOREHOUSE OF HEROIC ACTIONS, GOLDEN 
 DEEDS, AND STIRRING CHRONICLES 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 A. T. QUILLER-COUCH 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 MCLOUGHLIN BROTHERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
GIFT 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OSS' 
 
 An Awkward Twenty Minutes, 
 
 Fights with the Flames, 
 
 Tales of the North American Indians : 
 
 I. A Chance Shot, . . . 
 
 II. A Run from a Horrible Death, 
 The Prison-Breaker, 
 
 The Story of the Eddystone, 
 An Adventure in Spain, 
 Mistaken : 
 
 I. A Mistaken Vengeance, 
 II. The Blunder of M. Festeau, . 
 III. The Cornish Voter, 
 The Raft of the "Medusa," 
 Some Episodes of War : 
 
 I. A Tragedy of the Pe.mnsular War, 
 
 II. How A Fort Was Taken, 
 
 III. The Covenanter, 
 A Desperate Errand, 
 
 A Tiger Hunt in India, 
 Saved at Sea : 
 
 I. The Tale ok the "Georgian,'' 
 II. An Adventure in the "Endymion," 
 The Pirate's Apprentice, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 5 
 
 14 
 
 25 
 30 
 38 
 
 58 
 73 
 
 81 
 86 
 90 
 
 95 
 
 108 
 112 
 114 
 1 16 
 J25 
 
 128 
 
 133 
 141 
 
 063 
 
THE WORLD'S HEROES: 
 
 A STOREHOUSE OF 
 
 HEROIC ACTIONS, GOLDEN DEEDS, AND 
 STIRRING CHRONICLES. 
 
 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 
 The Story of a Buffalo. 
 
 jHE haunts of the buffalo are in the hottest parts of Ceylon In the 
 neighborhood of lakes, swamps, and extensive plains, the buffalo 
 exists in large herds ; wallowing in the soft mire, and passing two- 
 thirds of his time in the water itself, he may be almost termed 
 amphibious. He is about the size of a large ox, of immense bone and strength, 
 very active, and his hide is almost free from hair, giving a disgusting appear- 
 ance to his india-rubber-like skin. He carries his head in a peculiar manner, 
 the horns thrown back, and his nose projecting on a level with his forehead, 
 thus securing himself from a front shot in a fatal part. This renders him a 
 dangerous enemy, as he will receive any number of balls from a small gun in 
 the throat and chest without evincing the least symptom of distress. The 
 shoulder is the acknowledged point to aim at, but, from his disposition to 
 face the guns, this is a difficult shot to obtain. Should he succeed in catching 
 his antagonist his fury knows no bounds, and he gores his victim to death, 
 trampling and kneeling upon him till he is satisfied life is extinct. 
 
 This sport would not be very dangerous in the forests, where the buffalo 
 could be easily stalked, and where escape would also be rendered less difficult 
 in case of accident ; but as he is generally met with upon the open plains, free 
 from a single tree, he must be killed when once brought to bay, or he will soon 
 exhibit his qualifications for mischief There is a degree of uncertainty in his 
 character which much increases the danger of the pursuit. A buffalo may 
 retreat at first sight with every symptom of cowardice, and thus induce a too 
 
6 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 
 
 eager pursuit, when he will suddenly become the assailant. I cannot explain 
 his character better than by describing the first wild buffaloes that I ever saw. 
 
 I had not been long in Ceylon ; but having arrived in the island for the 
 sake of its wild sports, I had not been idle, and had already made a con- 
 siderable bag of large game. Like most novices, however, I was guilty of one 
 great fault. I despised the game, and gave no heed to the many tales of 
 danger and hair-breadth escapes which attended the pursuit of wild animals. 
 This carelessness on my part arose from my first debut having been extremely 
 lucky ; most shots had told well, and the animals had been killed with such 
 apparent ease that I had learnt to place an implicit reliance in the rifle. The 
 real fact was that I was like many others : I had slaughtered a number of 
 animals without understanding their habits, and was perfectly ignorant of the 
 sport. This is now many years ago, and it was then my first visit to the 
 island. Some places that were good spots for shooting in those days have 
 since that time been much disturbed, and are now no longer attractive to my 
 eyes. One of these places is Minneria Lake. 
 
 I was on a shooting trip, accompanied by my brother, whom I will desig- 
 nate as B . We had passed a toilsome day in pushing and dragging our 
 
 ponies for twenty miles along a narrow path through thick jungle, which half 
 a dozen natives in advance were opening before us with bill-hooks This had 
 at one time been a good path, but was then overgrown. It is now an acknow- 
 ledged bridle-road. At 4 p m , and eighty miles from Kandy, we emerged 
 from the jungle, and the view of Minneria Lake burst upon us. 
 
 It was a lovely afternoon. The waters of the lake, which is twenty miles 
 in circumference, were burnished by the setting sun. The surrounding plains 
 were as green as an English meadow, and beautiful forest-trees bordered the 
 extreme boundaries of the plains, like giant warders of the adjoining jungle. 
 Long promontaries, densely wooded, stretched far into the waters of the lake, 
 forming sheltered nooks and bays teeming with wild-fowl. The deer browsed 
 in herds on the wide extent of plain, or lay beneath the shade of spreading 
 branches. In some spots, groves of trees grew to the very water's edge ; in 
 others, the wide plains, free from a single stem or bush, stretched for miles 
 on the edge of the lake ; thickly-wooded hills bordered the extreme end of its 
 waters, and distant blue mountains mingled their dim summits with the clouds. 
 
 The village of Minneria was about three miles further on, and our coolies, 
 servants, and baggage were all far behind us. We had therefore na rifles or 
 guns at hand, except a couple of short guns, which were carried by our horse- 
 keepers ; for these we had a few balls For about half an hour we waited in 
 the impatient expectation of the arrival of our servants with the rifles. The 
 afternoon was wearing away, and they did not appear. We could wait no 
 longer, but determined to take a stroll and examine the country. We there- 
 fore left our horses and proceeded. 
 
 The grass was most verdant, about the height of a field fit for the scythe 
 
AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 7 
 
 in England, but not so thick. From this the snipe rose at every twenty of 
 thirty paces, although the ground was dry. Crossing a large meadow, and 
 skirting the banks of the lake, from which the ducks and teal rose in large 
 flocks, we entered a long neck of jungle, which stretched far into the lake. 
 
 The principal tenants of the plain were wild buffaloes. A herd of about a 
 hundred was lying in a swampy hollow, about a quarter of a mile from us. 
 Several bulls were dotted about the green surface of the level plain, and on 
 the opposite shores of the lake were many dark patches, indistinguishable in 
 the distance ; these were in reality herds of buffaloes. There was not a sound 
 in the wide expanse before us, except the harsh cry of the water-fowl that 
 our presence had already disturbed ; not a breath of air moved the leaves of 
 the trees which shadowed us ; and the whole scene was that of undisturbed 
 nature. The sun had now sunk upon the horizon, and the air was compara- 
 tively cool. The multitude of buffaloes enchanted us, and with our two light 
 double-barrels we advanced to the attack of the herd before us. 
 
 We had not left the security of the forest many seconds before we were 
 observed. The herd started up from their muddy bed, and gazed at us with 
 astonishment. It was a fair, open plain of some thousand acres bounded by the 
 forest that we had just quitted on the one side, and by the lake on the other ; 
 thus there was no cover for our advance, and all we could do was to push on. 
 
 As we approached the herd, they ranged up in a compact body, presenting 
 a very regular line in front. From this line seven large bulls stepped forth, 
 and from their vicious appearance seemed inclined to show fight. In the mean- 
 time we were running up and were soon within thirty paces of them. At this 
 distance the main body of the herd suddenly wheeled round and thundered 
 across the plain in full retreat. One of the bulls at the same moment charged 
 straight at us ; but when within twenty paces of the guns he turned to one 
 
 side, and instantly received two balls in the shoulder, B and I having fired 
 
 at the same moment. As luck would have it, his blade-bone was broken, and 
 he fell on his knees ; but recovering himself in an instant, he retreated on three 
 legs to the water. 
 
 We now received assistance from a most unexpected quarter. One of the 
 large bulls, his companions, charged after him with great fury, and soon over- 
 taking the wounded beast, struck him full in the side, throwing him over with 
 a great shock on the muddy border of the lake. Here the wounded animal lay, 
 unable to rise, and his conqueror commenced a slow retreat across the plain. 
 
 Leaving B to extinguish the wounded buffalo, I gave chase to the re- 
 treating bully. At an easy canter he would gain a hundred paces, and then, 
 turning, he would face me ; throwing his nose up, and turning his bead on one 
 side with a short grunt, he would advance quickly for a few paces, and then 
 again retreat as I continued to approach. In this manner he led me a chase 
 of about a mile along the banks of the lake ; but he appeared determined not 
 to bring the fight to an issue at close quarters. Cursing his cowardice, I fired 
 
8 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 
 
 a long shot at him, and reloading with my last spare ball, I continued the 
 chase. 
 
 The lake in one part stretched in a narrow creek into the plain, and the 
 bull now directed his course into the angle formed by this turn. I thought that 
 I had him in a corner, and redoubling my exertions, I gained upon him con- 
 siderably. He retreated slowly to the very edge of the creek, and I had gained 
 so fast upon him that I was not thirty paces distant when he plunged into 
 the water, and commenced swimming across the creek. This was not more 
 than sixty yards in breadth, and I knew that I could now bring him to action. 
 
 Running round the borders of the creek as fast as I could, I arrived at 
 the opposite side, on his intended landing-place, just as his black form reared 
 from the deep water and gained the shallows, into which I had waded knee- 
 deep to meet him. I now experienced that pleasure as he stood sullenly eyeing 
 me within fifteen paces. Poor, stupid fellow ! I would willingly, in my ignor- 
 ance, have betted ten to one upon the shot, so certain was I of his death in 
 another instant. 
 
 I took a quick but steady aim at his chest, at the point of connection with 
 the throat. The smoke of the barrel passed to one side. There he stood ; he 
 had not flinched ; he literally had not moved a muscle. The only change that 
 had taken place was in his eye ; this, which had hitherto been merely sullen, 
 was now beaming with fury ; but his form was as motionless as a statue. A 
 stream of blood poured from a wound within an inch of the spot at which I had 
 aimed ; had it not been for this fact, I should not have believed him struck. 
 
 Annoyed at the failure of the shot, I tried him with the left-hand barrel 
 at the same hole. The report of the gun echoed over the lake, but there he 
 stood as if he bore a charmed life ; an increased flow of blood from the wound 
 and additional lustre in his eye were the only signs of his being struck. 
 
 I was now unloaded, and had not a single ball remaining. It was his turn. 
 I dared not turn to retreat, as I knew he would immediately charge, and we 
 stared each other out of countenance. With a short grunt he suddenly sprang 
 forward, but fortunately, as I did not move, he halted ; he had, however, 
 decreased his distance, and we now gazed at each other within ten paces. 
 
 I began to think buffalo-shooting somewhat dangerous, and I would have 
 given something to have been a mile away, but ten times as much to have 
 had my four-ounce rifle in my hand. Oh, how I longed for that rifle in this 
 moment of suspense ! Unloaded, without the power of defence, with the 
 absolute certainty of a charge from an overpowering brute, my hand instinc- 
 tively found the handle of my hunting-knife, a useless weapon against such a 
 foe. 
 
 Knowing that B was not aware of my situation, at the distance which 
 
 separated us — about a mile — without taking my eyes from the figure before 
 me, I raised my hand to my mouth, and gave a long and loud whistle. This 
 was a signal that I knew would soon be answered, if heard. With a stealthy 
 
AN A\VKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 9 
 
 step and another short grunt, the bull again advanced a couple of paces towards 
 me. He seemed aware of my helplessness, and he was the picture of rage and 
 fury, pawing the water, and stamping violently with his fore-foot. This was 
 very pleasant ! I gave myself up for lost : but, putting as fierce an expression 
 into my features as I could possibly assume, I stared helplessly at my mad- 
 dened antagonist. 
 
 Suddenly a bright thought flashed through my mind. Without taking my 
 eyes off the animal before me, I put a double charge of powder down the 
 right-hand barrel, and tearing off a piece of my shirt, took all the money 
 from my pouch — some small coin which I luckily had with me for paying 
 coolies. Quickly making them into a rouleau with the piece of rag, I rammed 
 them down the barrel, and they were hardly well home before the bull again 
 sprang forward 
 
 So quick w^as it, that I had no time to replace the ramrod, and I threw 
 it into the water, bringing my gun on full cock in the same instant. However, 
 he again halted, being now within about seven paces from me, and we again 
 gazed fixedly at each other, but with altered feelings on my part. I had faced 
 him hopelessly with an empty gun for more than a quarter of an hour, which 
 seemed a century. I now had a charge in my gun, which I knew, if reserved 
 till he was within a foot of the muzzle, would certainly floor him ; and I 
 waited his onset with comparative carelessness. 
 
 At this moment I heard a splashing in the water behind me, accompanied 
 by the hard breathing of some one evidently distressed. The next moment I 
 
 heard B 's voice. He could hardly speak for want of breath, having run 
 
 the whole way to my rescue ; but I could understand that he had only one 
 barrel loaded, and no bullets left. 
 
 I dared not turn my face from the buffalo ; but I cautioned B- to re- 
 serve his fire till the bull should be close into me, and then to aim at the 
 head The words were hardly uttered when, with the concentrated rage of the 
 last twenty minutes, he rushed straight at me. 
 
 It was the w^ork of an instant. B fired without effect. The horns were 
 
 lowered, their points were on either side of me, and the muzzle of the gun 
 barely touched his forehead, when I pulled the trigger, and three shillings' 
 worth of small change rattled into his small head. 
 
 Down he went, and rolled over with the suddenly-checked momentum of his 
 
 charge. Away went B and I, as fast as our heels would carry us, through 
 
 the water and over the plain, knowing that he was not dead, but only stunned. 
 There was a fallen tree about half a mile from us, whose whitened branches, 
 rising high above the ground, offered a tempting asylum. To this we directed, 
 our flying steps, and after a run of a hundred yards we turned and looked 
 behind us. He had regained his feet and was following us slowly. We now 
 experienced the difference of feeling between hunting and being hunted ; and 
 fine sport we must have afforded him. 
 
FACING THE BUFFAI.O. 
 
AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. ii 
 
 On he came, but fortunately so stunned by the collision with Her Majesty's 
 features upon the coin which he had dared to oppose, that he could only reel 
 forward at a slow canter. By degrees even this pace slackened, and he fell. We 
 were only too glad to be able to reduce our speed likewise ; but we had no 
 sooner stopped to breathe than he was up again and after us. At length, how- 
 ever, we gained the tree, and beheld him with satisfaction stretched powerless 
 on the ground, but not dead, within two hundred yards of us. We retreated 
 under cover of the forest to the spot at which we had left the horses, fortunate- 
 ly meeting no opposition from wild animals, and we shortly arrived at the 
 village, at which we took up our quarters, vowing vengeance on the following 
 morning for the defeat we had sustained. 
 
 The next morning we were up at daybreak, and returned to the battle-field 
 of the previous evening, in the full expectation of seeing our wounded antag- 
 onist lying dead where we had left him. In this we were disappointed : he 
 was gone, and we never saw him again. 
 
 I had now my long two-ounce and my four-ounce rifles with me, and I was 
 fully prepared for a deep revenge for the disgrace of yesterday. The morning 
 was clear but cloudy, a heavy thunder-storm during the night had cooled the 
 air, and the whole plain was glistening with bright drops ; the peacocks were 
 shrieking from the tree-tops, and spreading their gaudy plumage to the cool 
 breeze, and the whole face of nature seemed refreshed. We felt the same in- 
 vigorating spirit, as we took a long survey of the many herds of buffaloes upon 
 the plain, before we could determine which we should first attack. 
 
 A large single bull, which had been lying in a swampy hollow, unobserved 
 by us, suddenly sprang up at about three hundred yards' distance, and slowly 
 cantered off I tried the long two-ounce rifle at him, but taking too great an 
 elevation, I fired over him. The report, however, had the effect of turning 
 him, and instead of retreating he wheeled round, and attempted to pass be- 
 tween the guns and the banks of the lakes. 
 
 We were about three hundred yards from the water's edge, and he was soon 
 passing us at full gallop, at right angles, about midway, or a hundred and fifty 
 yards distant. I had twelve drachms of powder in the four-ounce rifle, and I 
 took a flying shot at his shoulder. 
 
 No visible effect was produced, and the ball ricocheted completely across 
 the broad surface of the lake (which was no more ^han a mile wide at this 
 part) in continuous splashes. The gun-bearers said f had fired behind him, 
 but I had distinctly heard the peculiar fut which a ball makes upon striking 
 an animal ; and although the passage of the ball across the lake appeared re- 
 markable, nevertheless I felt positive that it had first passed through some 
 portion of the animal. 
 
 Away the bull sped over the plain at unabated speed for about two hundred 
 paces, when he suddenly turned and charged towards the guns. On he came 
 for about a hundred yards, but evidently slackening his speed at every stride. 
 
12 AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 
 
 At length he stopped altogether. His mouth was wide open, and I could now 
 distinguish a mass of bloody foam upon his lips and nostrils. The ball had in 
 reality passed through his lungs, and making its exit from the opposite shoul- 
 der, had even then flown across the lake. 
 
 Having reloaded, I now advanced towards him, and soon arrived within 
 fifty paces. He was the fascimile of the bull that had chased us on the 
 previous day — the same picture of fury and determination ; and, crouching low, 
 he advanced a few paces, keeping his eyes fixed upon us, as though we were 
 already his own. A short cough, accompanied by a rush of blood from his 
 mouth, seemed to cause him great uneasiness, and he halted. Again we 
 advanced till within twenty paces of him. I would not fire, as I saw that he 
 already had enough, and I wished to see how long he could support a wound 
 through the lungs, as my safety in buffalo-shooting might in future depend 
 upon this knowledge. The fury of his spirit seemed to war with death ; and, 
 although reeling with weakness and suffocation, he again attempted to come on. 
 It was his last effort : his eyes rolled convulsively, he gave a short grunt of 
 impotent rage, and the next moment he fell upon his back, with his heels in 
 the air He was stone-dead, and game to the last moment. 
 
 But upon turning from the carcase before us, we observed to our surprise 
 that a large herd of buffaloes, that were at a great distance when we had 
 commenced the attack upon the bull, had now approached to within a few 
 hundred yards, and were standing in a dense mass attentively watching us. 
 
 Without any delay we advanced towards them ; and upon arriving within 
 about a hundred paces, we observed that the herd was headed by two large 
 bulls, one of which was the largest I had ever seen. The whole herd was 
 bellowing and pawing the ground. They had winded the blood of the dead 
 bull, and appeared perfectly maddened. 
 
 We continued to advance, and were within about ninety paces of them, 
 when suddenly the whole herd of about two hundred buffaloes, headed by the 
 two large bulls before mentioned, dashed straight for us at full gallop. 
 
 So simultaneous was the onset that it resembled a sudden charge of cavalry, 
 and the ground vibrated beneath their heavy hoofs. Their tails were thrown 
 high above their backs, and the mad and overpowering phalanx of heads and 
 horns came rushing forward as though to sweep us at once from the face of 
 the earth. 
 
 There was not an instant to be lost ; already but a short space intervened 
 between us and apparently certain destruction. Our gun-bearers were almost 
 in the act of flight ; but catching hold of the man who carried the long two- 
 ounce rifle, and keeping him by my side, I awaited the irrestisible onset with 
 the four-ounce 
 
 The largest of the bulls was some yards in advance, closely followed by his 
 companion, and the herd in a compact mass came thundering down at their 
 heels. Only fifty yards separated us ; we literally felt among them, and already 
 
AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES. 
 
 13 
 
 experienced a sense of being overrun. I did not look at the herd, but kept 
 my eye upon the big bull leader. On they flew, and were within thirty paces of 
 us, when I took a steady shot with the four-ounce, and the leading bull 
 plunged head-foremost in the turf, turning a complete somersault 
 
 Snatching the two-ounce from the petrified gun-bearer, I had just time for 
 a shot as the second bull was within fifteen paces, and at the flash of the rifle 
 his horns ploughed up the turf, and he lay almost at our feet. 
 
 That lucky shot turned the whole herd When certain destruction threat- 
 ened us, they suddenly wheeled to their left, when within twenty paces of the 
 guns, and left us astonished victors of the field. We poured an ineffectual 
 volley into the retreating herd from the light guns, as they galloped off in 
 full retreat, and reloaded as quickly as possible, as the two bulls, though 
 floored, were still alive. They were, however, completely powerless, and a 
 double-barrelled gun gave each the coup de grace hy di ball in the forehead. 
 Both rifle-shots had struck at the point of junction of the throat and chest, 
 and the four-ounce ball had passed out of the hind-quarters. Our friend of 
 yesterday, although hit in precisely the same spot, had laughed at the light 
 guns. 
 
 Having cut out the tongues from the two bulls,, we turned home to breakfast. 
 
 
 :r '•*' 
 
 THE CHARGE OF THE J{ERD. 
 
14 
 
 FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 
 
 |BOUT a hundred years ago, long before James Braidwood had arisen 
 to organise the fire-brigades of Edinburgh and London and set 
 the example which has since been followed by every town in 
 the civilised world, late on a dark afternoon a young stableman, 
 John Elliot by name, was sauntering carelessly homewards down Piccadilly, 
 when a glare in the sky, the confused murmurs of a large crowd, and the 
 hurrying footsteps of pedestrians who passed him, told of a not distant fire. 
 
 Following the footsteps of the passers-by, he found himself in one of the 
 side streets leading off Piccadilly, and there at the end of the street, a large 
 house was blazing furiously. He worked his way vigorously through the 
 spectators, now so densely gathered as to form a living wedge in the narrow 
 street and block it against all traffic, and at length found himself in a position 
 to see clearly the ruin that had already been wrought on the burning pile. 
 
 As a matter of fact, all was pretty well over with the house. How far the 
 upper storeys were intact he had little means of judging ; ^but he saw that the 
 ceilings of the first and second floors had given way, and also that the fire 
 was running along the rafters of the floor above. Flames were pouring from 
 half a dozen windows. He turned to a man who stood next him in the 
 concourse, • 
 
 " The house is nearly done for," he remarked. 
 
 " Quite," replied the man. •' You see it is burned through, and it is only a 
 question of minutes before the roof must tumble in. The firemen do not dare 
 to make any further attempt. It is a dreadful business." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Why, don't you know ? This is Lady Dover's house — poor old soul ! and 
 she is still there, in the top room. No one can save her now, but it is a 
 hideous death all the same." 
 
 Elliot looked about him and now understood the pallor on the upturned 
 faces of the crowd. He looked at the house again. The whole street was 
 wrapped in a crimson mist ; the falling streams of water which the firemen still 
 continued to direct on the blaze were hissing impotently, and seemed only to 
 feed the fire. In the crowd that watched there was hardly a sound, one could 
 almost hear men's hearts beating as they waited for the conclusion of the tragedy 
 which they knew to be inevitable. But further down the street, where it was 
 not understood that human life was at stake in the midst of this spectacle, 
 rose the sounds of girls laughing, men quarrelling and fighting, whistling, oaths, 
 and merriment. Caps were flyir.g about, and the mass was jostling and sway- 
 ing to and fro, as before Newgate on a Monday morning. 
 
 "Do you mean to say,'' asked Elliot, after a moment, "that the poor old 
 lady is up there and nobody is going to save her .''" 
 
FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 15 
 
 " What's the use ? " answered the man. " If you think it possible, better try 
 for yourself." But this reply was not heard, for the young stableman had al- 
 ready begun to push his way forward to the group of firemen that stood 
 watching the conflagration in despair. 
 
 He was a man of extraordinary strength, and now with a set purpose 
 to inspire him still further, he scattered the crowd to right and left, elbowing, 
 pushing, and thrusting, until he stood before the firemen and repeated his 
 question. 
 
 He met with the same answer. " It was impossible," they said. Everything 
 had been done that could be, and now there was nothing but to wait for the 
 end. 
 
 " But it is a question of human life," he objected. 
 
 In reply they merely pointed to the flame-points now running along every 
 yard of woodwork still left in the building 
 
 Elliot caught a ladder from their hands and, running forward with it, 
 planted it firmly against the house. He had to choose his place carefully, as 
 almost every one of the windows above was belching out an angry blaze. 
 
 "Which is the window where they were last seen .-' " he asked. 
 
 The fireman pointed. The crowd at length finding that a brave man was 
 going to risk his life, raised a cheer as they caught sight of him, and standing 
 on tiptoe, peered over each other's shoulders to get a better view of the work 
 that was forward. 
 
 " Now then," said Elliot, " don't try to stop the flames, for that is useless, 
 but keep the water playing on the ladder all the time " 
 
 He slipped off his shoes, and amid another cheer from the crowd, dashed up 
 it as quick as thought. The window to which the fireman had pointed was 
 clear of flames. On gaining it, Elliot sprang on to the sill and jumped down 
 into the room. 
 
 It was lighted brilliantly enough by the glow from the street, and through 
 the dense smoke that was already beginning to fill it he saw two figures. 
 
 Both were women, and for a moment the gallant man doubted that he had 
 come in time ; for so still and motionless were they that it seemed as if the 
 smoke must have already stifled them, and left them in these startling attitudes 
 One — a very old lady — was kneeling by the bedside, her head bent forward in 
 despair, her hands flung out over the counterpane. The other — a tall, heavy- 
 looking woman — was standing bolt upright by the window. Neither spoke or 
 stirred, and the kneeling woman did not even raise her head at the noise of 
 his entrance ; the other, with eyes utterly expressionless and awful, supported 
 herself with one hand against the wall, and gazed at him speechlessly. Awe- 
 struck by this sight, Elliot had to pause a moment before he found his speech. 
 
 " Which is Lady Dover ? " he cried at last. 
 
 The kneeling woman lifted her head, saw him, and with a cry, or rather a 
 
i6 
 
 FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES 
 
 smothered exclamation of hope, got upon her feet and ran forward to hi m 
 He hurried her to the window. She obeyed him in silence, for it was clear 
 that terror had robbed her tongue of all articulate speech. He clambered out, 
 
 "HE TURNED ON THE TOPMOST RUNfi. 
 
 turned on the topmost rung, and flinging an arm round her waist, was lifting her 
 out, when the other figure stepped forward and set a hand on his shoulder. 
 The look on this woman's face was now terrible. Something seemed working 
 in her throat and the muscles of her face : it was her despair struggling with 
 her paralysed senses for speech. 
 
FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. tf 
 
 "Me too," she at length managed to mutter hoarsely ; but the sound when 
 it came was, as Elliot afterwards declared, like nothing in heaven or earth. 
 
 " If life is left in me, I will come back for you," he cried. 
 
 But his heart failed him when he saw the distance he should have to go, 
 and still more when he noted her size. For the ladder was slippery from the 
 water which the firemen kept throwing upon it, and which alone saved it from 
 catching on fire. Moreover, the clouds of smoke in the room had thickened con- 
 siderably since his entrance, and it could not be many minutes now before the 
 floor gave way, or the roof crushed in, or both. He had felt his feet scorched 
 through his stockings, when he set foot on the boards. 
 
 Down in the street the crowd had increased enormously ; gentlemen from 
 the clubs, waiters and loungers from a distance had all gathered to look. As 
 Elliot descended the ladder with his burden a frantic storm of cheering broke 
 forth — for every soul present understood the splendid action that had just 
 been performed ; and the crush around the foot of the ladder of those who 
 pressed forward to express their admiration was terrific. 
 
 But they knew, ot course, nothing of the stout lady still left in the bed- 
 room ; and when Elliot, heedless of the cheers and hand-shakes that met him, 
 flung Lady Dover into the arms of the nearest bystander, and turned again 
 towards the ladder, they were utterly at a loss to understand what he could be 
 about. 
 
 But he kept his word. A dead hush fell again upon the spectators, as once 
 more the brave man dashed up the ladder, upon which the firemen had ceased 
 now to play. Half-way up he turned 
 
 " Keep on at the pumps ! " he called ; and then again was up to the window 
 and looked in. The lady had still preserved her former attitude, though leaning 
 now further back against the wall and panting for breath in the stifling smoke. 
 He put his hand out to her. 
 
 " Catch hold of my neck and hold tightly round it," he said. 
 
 But again she was speechless and helpless. Her eyes lit up as she saw him, 
 but beyond this she hardly seemed to understand his words. Elliot groaned, 
 and finding, after another trial, that she did not comprehend, boldly reached in 
 and grasped her round the waist. 
 
 She was heavier even than he had imagined, and for one fearful moment, as 
 he stood poised on the topmost rung, he thought that all was over. It seemed 
 impossible that they should ever reach the ground except by tumbling off the 
 ladder. By a superhuman effort, however, he managed to drag her out, and 
 then clasping her waist with one arm, whilst with the other he held on like 
 grim death, he hung breathless for a moment, and then began slowly to de- 
 scend. 
 
 Up to this point there had been no sound in the street below But now, 
 as the watchers saw his feet moving down the ladder, their enthusiasm broke 
 out in one deep sigh, followed by yells and shouts of admiration. As the young 
 
18 FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 
 
 stableman slowly desecended, and finally, by God's mercy, reached the ground 
 with his burden, these feelings broke all bounds. Men rushed round him ; 
 Guineas were poured by the handful into his pockets ; and when these and 
 his hands were full, the gold was even stuffed into his mouth. 
 
 But, in the midst of this excitement, a sudden crash caused the spectators 
 to look upwards again. It was the roof of the house that had fallen in, only a 
 minute after Elliot had set his foot upon the ground. 
 
 The lady whom he had saved by this second brave ascent was a relative of 
 Lady Dover, by name Mile, von Hompesch. It is pleasant to hear that her 
 preserver was rewarded by the family of Lady Dover, who bestowed a pension 
 upon him. At a later period he w^as in the service of the first Lord Braybrooke, 
 and this narrative was preserved by a member of the family who had often 
 heard Elliot relate it. Like all brave men, he never spoke vaingloriously of 
 his exploit ; but always professed great gratitude for his reward, which seemed 
 to him considerably higher than his deserts. 
 
 Among the many heroes of the London Fire Brigade, few have left a brighter 
 record than Conductor Sunshine, of whose exploits one shall next be related. 
 
 In November, 1844, the conductor was summoned to a fire which had broken 
 out in Hatton Garden. On his arrival the following state of things met his 
 eye. The second floor of the house-front contained four windows, and at one 
 of these a man was seated, in his night-shirt, on the window-sill, with his legs 
 hanging over. At the other extremity of the house-front, and on the third 
 floor, another man was hanging to a window-ledge by his hands. 
 
 The conductor rescued the first-named man, and then turned his attention 
 to the second. But to save him was no easy task. To raise the third-floor 
 ladder was too great a risk, for more than likely it would hit the poor fellow's 
 hands and disengage him from his hold Conductor Sunshine therefore was 
 driven to try what might be done with the second-floor ladder. By placing it 
 tn a position as nearly vertical as was safe, and by climbing to the top, he 
 found that he could just touch, by reaching upwards with his arms, the dang- 
 ling feet of the unhappy man And in this position, too, he had himself the 
 scantiest of holds, and only prevented himself from falling backwards by 
 firmly grasping the frame of a second-floor window, his only footing being on 
 the topmost rung of the ladder. 
 
 Nothing was to be done therefore but to call on the man to let go his hold 
 and drop. Twice he shouted, but at length discovered from his silence and the 
 shouts of the spectators below that the man was deaf and dumb ! In despair 
 now of effecting a rescue, the conductor tapped him gently on the foot. The 
 man seemed to understand at once, and relinquished his hold on the ledge. It 
 will hardly be believed that Mr. Sunshine, so situated, contrived to let him slip 
 gradually down between himself and the wall, and catching him by the waist as 
 soon as his feet touched the ladder, brought him down to the ground in safety. 
 
FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 19 
 
 Here are two anecdotes of another conductor, a Mr. Chapman : — 
 
 At a fire to which he was summoned, this intrepid man crossed the roofs 
 of two out-buildings with his ladder, and managed to fix it upon the roof ol 
 a third and against the second back floor of the burning house Having res- 
 cued a lady from one of the windows, he had to find his way back over the 
 roofs of the out-buildings before he could land her in safety on tirra firma. 
 But the roofs were now on fire ; that is to say, the rafters underneath had ig- 
 nited, and the flames were now bursting up through the tiling His only pos- 
 sible road to safety was by planting his ladder across the blazing gulf and 
 creeping across it with his burden. This he did, and hardly had he touched 
 the solid earth before the whole of the roof which he had thus traversed fell 
 in with a resounding crash. 
 
 On another occasion, the fire this time being in a house in the Tottenham 
 Court Road, Conductor Chapman having planted his ladder against the build- 
 ing and effected an entrance by a second-floor window, was twice driven back 
 by reason of his lamp going out in the dense smoke Having taken refuge on 
 his ladder for a second time, and relit his lamp, he once more climbed in 
 and explored the place. The issue shall be given in the concise and modest 
 language of his own report ; — 
 
 " I called out loud, and was ansv/ered by a kind of stifled cry. I rushed 
 across the landing to the back room, and encountered a man, who groaned out> 
 * Oh, save my wife ! ' I groped about, and laid hold of a female, who fell by 
 me, clasping two children in her arms. I took them up and brought them to 
 the escape, guiding the man to follow me, and placed them all safely in the 
 canvas, from whence they reached the ground without any injury ; and, finally, 
 I came down myself, quite exhausted." 
 
 "We thought," said a bystander, 'when he jumped into the second-floor 
 window that we should not see him alive again : and I cannot tell you how 
 he was cheered when he appeared with the woman and her two children " 
 
 In the next case the hero is a Conductor Wood, who for the following 
 service, performed on the 29th of April, 1854, received a testimonial on vellum 
 in commemoration of his gallantry. 
 
 The fire took place in Colchester Street, Whitechapel. On the conductor's 
 arrival, it was raging throughout the back of the house, and dense columns of 
 smoke were issuing from every window. Upon entering the first-floor room, 
 part of which was actually blazing at the time, he discovered five persons — a 
 husband and wife, and three children — almost in a state of insensibility owing 
 to the appalling heat. His first thought was for the woman He took her on 
 his shoulders, and holding- a child by its night-clothes in his mouth, descended 
 the ladder. Returning up the ladder, he re-entered the room, and having di- 
 rected the father to escape and pointed out the proper means, he had effected 
 his second descent with the two remaining children, one under each arm, when 
 the whole building became enveloped in flames from attic to basement. 
 
£0 
 
 FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 
 
 After such an exploit as this, it would be thought that to add to the list 
 would be but to court an anticlimax. Yet the annals of the London Fire 
 Brigade are full of deeds, often as daring in design and astounding in 
 execution. But the real hero of the history of this great institution is the 
 
 " HOLDING A CHILD BY ITS NIGHT.CLOTHES IN HIS MOUTH." (p. I9). 
 
 man who first put it on an eflficient footing, and who spent all the energy of 
 his life, and finally life itself, in the great task ot saving his fellow-men from 
 this most horrible of dangers. 
 
 James Braidwood was born in Edinburgh in the last year of the last 
 century. His father, a builder and upholsterer of no mean report in that city, 
 seems to have designed his son for the profession of a surveyor. But whatever, 
 
Fights with the flames. ±t 
 
 the reason, James Braidwood from the first took unkindly to the surveyor's 
 office, and soon began to turn his mind to what quickly became the absorbing 
 object of his life. Indeed, in his case, it would seem that a fireman as well 
 as a poet, nascitur, non fit One or two actions, displaying personal courage as 
 well as resourcefulness of a high order, having recommended him to the notice 
 of those in authority, he was, at the age of twenty-three, made Superintendant 
 of the fire-engines of the city of Edinburgh, and soon began to show his power 
 as a leader of men. 
 
 Almost as soon as he entered on his new office, he began to reform the 
 system of management, as clumsy as it was antiquated, then in vogue. But 
 scarcely had he set his hand to the work of reform when that series of fires 
 broke out which even to the present day are talked about, and discussed in 
 the reminiscences of the age, as the " Great Fires of Edinburgh." 
 
 The scene of the conflagration was the famous High Street, and many of 
 the ancient and loftiest houses in that city of lofty houses came to their end in 
 that one famous week. From four hundred to five hundred families were 
 rendered homeless, ten persons were killed, either outright or by fatal injuries, 
 and for some days ruin threatened the whole of the High Street, and, as some 
 thought, the larger part of the Old Town. 
 
 The inefficiency then displayed by the Edinburgh Fire Brigade might have 
 ruined a weaker man in the early days of his responsibility. But, luckily, 
 Braidwood had already made his voice heard in protest against the old system 
 of management, and the Scotch are a judicial race. Never, indeed, did a system 
 stand more obviously in need of reorganisation than that of the Edinburgh 
 Fire Brigade by the end of the week. All had gone wrong. No one could 
 command, for there was no one to obey. Energies were wasted in efforts the 
 most random, and once or twice, while the devastation spread before their 
 eyes the firemen turned their attention to quarrelling and recrimination, 
 and were with difficulty restrained from a free fight 
 
 This was more ,than enough. The city authorities and the insurance com- 
 panies, beside themselves with panic, lent a ready ear to young Braidwood, who 
 struck while the iron was hot. Together they consented, on his recomenda- 
 tion, to bear the expense of reorganising and maintaining an efficient brigade. 
 Picked men were soon found, who, though daily plying their ordinary trade, 
 found time to practice under the new regulations, and were regularly exercised 
 and inspected once a week in the early morning. The benefits of the new 
 system were soon appreciated, and the fame of the Edinburgh Fire Brigade 
 became a household word throughout the kingdom. From this it passed into a 
 model for every new organisation for suppressing fires, and gave the great start 
 to the Volunteer Fire Brigade Movement which has for many years now been 
 so healthy a feature in the life of our towns. 
 
 If Braidwood did much by his strength of purpose, he also did much by 
 the charm of his personality. Never was a man more heartily worshipped by 
 
22 nOHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 
 
 his subordinates, in whom he inspired that confidence which has been the great 
 secret of every successful general. He never exposed a man unnecessarily, and 
 if some particularly dangerous feat called for performance, would cheerfully 
 undertake it himself. Thus at a fire in Edinburgh he soon brought with his 
 own hands out from the burning building a quantity of gunpowder, which was 
 known to be stored there. He entered alone, and while thousands in the street 
 below held their breath, coolly searched about, found and carried off first one 
 cask and then another of the substance which, if ignited, would have enor- 
 mously increased the disaster of the conflagration. 
 
 It was almost ten years after the reconstitution of the Edinburgh Fire Bri- 
 gade that a similar work was undertaken in London. The different insurance 
 companies had each its brigade, but the task of uniting them under a single 
 management, though often attempted, remained incomplete until Braidwood 
 himself had been invited to come and undertake it. 
 
 He accepted : and, as in Edinburgh, the Metropolitan Brigade under his 
 superintendence became an entirely new force. There was some opposition, at 
 first, to the rigorous discipline ; but the old firemen were soon pensioned off, 
 and their places supplied by men who would, and could, obey. For Braidwood 
 had that other great quality of great generals — he knew how to choose his 
 subordinates. As a rule — aad the rule is still rigorously followed under Cap- 
 tain Shaw — he chose sailors, not only because of their trained lightness of 
 foot, readiness of eye, and general activity, but also because they were ac- 
 customed to obedience, to irregular duty, and hardy endurance. His own con- 
 stitution, his incessant vigilance, and his sound judgment set the standard 
 which it was the ambition of every member af his corps to emulate ; and the 
 almost paternal kindness of his rule did perhaps more than was generally ac- 
 knowledged to cultivate that tradition of ready devotion and pride in their own 
 body which are among the brightest ornaments of the London Fire Brigade. 
 
 As at Edinburgh, too, Braidwood had not long settled to his work before 
 the outbreak of some memorable fires, by throwing the public into a panic, 
 caused his demands for reform to be listened to with ready ears. In 1834, the 
 second year of his superintendence, the old Houses of Parliament were burnt, 
 and this disaster was presently followed by a devastating fire at Mile End. 
 
 The following is an extract from the Annual Report of the Institution of 
 Civil Engineers for the year 1861 : 
 
 "He took great interest in the passing of Acts of Parliament for regulating 
 buildings in the metropolis. The wise provisions introduced through his in- 
 strumentality into these Acts of Parliament were continually being evaded, and 
 clusters of warehouses quickly rose which he saw would, if on fire, defy all his 
 means of extinction. In a letter to Sir W. Molesworth, First Commissioner of 
 Public Works, dated 10th February, 1854, on the subject of a proposed ware- 
 house in Tooley Street, he wrote : ' The whole building, if once fairly on fire 
 in one floor, will become such a mass of fire that there is no power in London 
 
FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 
 
 23 
 
 capable of extinguishing it, or even of restraining its ravages on every side ; 
 and on three sides it will be surrounded by property of immense value.'" 
 
 Now, mark the event, which so unhappily confirmed these words. The great 
 fire at Cotton's Wharf, Tooley Street, broke out on Saturday, June 22nd, 1861, 
 and continued to rage for upwards of a fortnight, destroying warehouse after 
 warehouse, to the extent of over two millions' worth of property. It was 
 discovered in open daylight, and before the flames had made much headway. 
 This good fortune was soon 
 of no service from the fact 
 that but little water was to 
 be had ; that the goods 
 stored at the wharf itself 
 and the immediate neighbor- 
 hood were all highly com- 
 bustible ; and that the iron 
 doors of communication had 
 been left open, thus at the 
 same time giving the flames 
 a path and encouraging 
 them by a thorough draught 
 
 Mr Braidwood was quick- 
 ly on the spot, and dis- 
 covering the gravity of 
 the case, summoned almost 
 the whole available strength 
 of the fire-engine establish- 
 ment. But he quickly fore- 
 saw that all hopes of saving 
 the warehouse and property 
 were idle ; and that the 
 very utmost that could be 
 done was to prevent a wide 
 
 extension of the fire. So fierce was the conflagration, that after two hour's 
 work the men in charge of the branch pipes began to suffer considerably from 
 the heat. Braidwood, always full of consideration for his men, went to give 
 them a word of encouragment Before this, several explosions had been 
 heard, in the burning warehouses, as of casks of oil or tallow; but no great 
 alarm at these was felt, as it was understood that the saltpetre stored at the 
 wharf was in buildings which had not yet been attacked by the flames. 
 
 But just as Braidwood was discharging this, which proved to be his last, act 
 of kindness to his men, a terrific explosion burst on the air : the lofty wall at 
 his back was rent, tottered, and came down with a crash, burying him in its 
 ruins The men near him had barely time to dart back and save themselves 
 
 DEATH OP BRAIDWOOD. 
 
24 
 
 FIGHTS WITH THE FLAMES. 
 
 from a similar fate, and a spectator who was standing by Braidwood's side 
 was buried with him. It is a question if a man can die better than at the 
 moment when he is discharging the great work of his life ; and there is no 
 question but that James Braidwood had the most tremendous of funeral pyres. 
 The fire, which had then fairly begun, was still raging fifteen days after : it 
 would even seem as if Braidwood, in his letter to Sir William Molesworth, had 
 been gifted with the power of prophesying his own death. 
 
 Our chapter shall conclude with the story of another, and in his way a very 
 distinguished, member of the London Fire Brigade — the dog " Chance." It 
 proves that the fascination of fires (and who that has witnessed a fire cannot 
 own this fascination'.'') extends even to the brute creation. In old Egypt, 
 Herodotus tells us, the cats used on the occasion of a conflagration to rush 
 forth from their burning homes, and then madly attempt to return again ; and 
 the Egyptians, who worshipped the animals, had to form a ring round to pre- 
 vent their dashing past and sacrificing themselves to the flames. This may, 
 however, be due to the cat's notorious love for home. In the case of the dog 
 " Chance" another hypothesis has to be searched for. 
 
 The animal formed his first acquaintance with the brigade by following a 
 fireman from a conflagration in Shoreditch to the central station at Watling 
 Street. Here, after he had been petted for some time by the men, his master 
 came for him and took him home. But the dog quickly escaped and returned 
 to the central station on the very first opportunity. He was carried back, 
 returned, was carried back again, and again returned. 
 
 At this point his master — "Jike a mother whose son will go to sea" — 
 abandoned the struggle and allowed him to follow his own course Hence- 
 forth for years he invariably went with the engine, sometimes upon the carriage 
 itself, sometimes under the horses' legs ; and always, when going uphill, run- 
 ning in advance, and announcing by his bark the welcome news that the fire- 
 engine was at hand. 
 
 Arrived at the fire, he would amuse himself with pulling burning logs of 
 wood out of the flames with his mouth, firmly impressed that he was rendering 
 the greatest service, and clearly anxious to show the laymen that he under- 
 stood all about the business. Although he had his legs broken half a dozen 
 times, he remained faithful to the profession he had so obstinately chosen. 
 At last, having taken a more serious hurt than usual, he was being nursed by 
 the firemen beside the hearth, when a " call " came. At the well-known 
 sound of the engine turning out, the poor old dog made a last effort to climb 
 upon it, and fell back — dead. 
 
 He was stuffed, and preserved at the station for some time. But even in 
 death he was destined to prove the friend of the brigade. For, one of the 
 engineers having committed suicide, the firemen determined to raffle him for 
 the benefit of the widow, and such was his fame that he realised ^123 los. ^d. ! 
 
25 
 
 TALES OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS. 
 
 I. A CHANCE SHOT. 
 
 |T ,was in 1779, when America was struggling with England for her 
 independence, and a division of the English redcoats were en- 
 camped on the banks of the Potomac. So admirably fortified was 
 their position by river and steep woods, that no ordinary text-book 
 of warfare would admit the possibility of surprising it But Washington and 
 his men did not conduct their campaigns by the book. " If you fight with 
 art/' said that general once to his soldiery, " you are sure to be defeated. 
 Acquire discipline enough for retreat and the uniformity of combined attack, 
 and your country will prove the best of engineers." 
 
 In fact, it was with a guerilla warfare, and little else, that the British had 
 to contend. The Americans had enrolled whole tribes of Indians in their ranks 
 and made full use of the Indian habits of warfare. The braves would steal like 
 snakes about the pathless forests, and dashing unexpectedly on the outposted 
 redcoats, kill a handful in one fierce charge, and then retreat pell-mell back 
 into their shelter, whither to follow them was to court certain death. The 
 Injuries thus inflicted were not overwhelming, but they were teasing for all that. 
 Day by day the waste went on — loss of sentinels, of stragglers, sometimes of 
 whole detachments, and all this was more galling from the impossibility of 
 revenge. In order to limit the depredations it was the custom of the British 
 commanders to throw forward their outposts to a great distance from the main 
 body, to station sentinels far into the woods, and cover the main body with a 
 constant guard. 
 
 One regiment was suffering from little less than a panic. Perpetually and 
 day after day sentinels had been missing. Worse than this, they had been sur- 
 prised, apparently, and carried off without giving any alarm or having time to 
 utter a sound. It would happen that a sentinel went forward to his post with 
 finger upon his trigger, while his comrades searched the woods around and 
 found them empty. When the relief came, the man would just be missing. 
 That was all. There was never a trace left to show the manner in which he 
 had been conveyed away : only, now and then, a few drops of blood splashed 
 on the leaves where he had been standing. 
 
 The men grew more and more uneasy. Most suspected treachery. It was 
 unreasonable, they argued, to believe that man after man could be surprised 
 without having time even to fire his musket. Others talked of magic, and grew 
 gloomy with strange suspicions of the Indian medicine-men. At any rate, here 
 was a mystery. Time would clear it up, no doubt ; but meanwhile the sentry 
 despatched to his post felt like a man marked out for death. It was worse. 
 Many men who would have marched with firm step to death in any familiar 
 
26 
 
 A CHANCE SHOT. 
 
 shape, would go with pale cheeks and bowed knees to this fate of which no- 
 thing was known except that nothing was left of the victim. 
 
 Matters at length grew intolerable. One morning, the sentinels having been 
 set as usual over-night, the guard went 
 as soon as dawn began to break to re- 
 lieve a post that extended far into the 
 woods. The sentinel was gone ! They 
 searched about, found his footprints 
 here and there on the trodden leaves, 
 but no blood — no trace of struggle, no 
 marks of surrounding enemies. It was 
 the old story, however, and they had 
 
 " ' I SAW AN AMFRICAN HOG COMING DOWN THE GLADE ' "(/ 28 ) 
 
 almost given up the problem by this time. They left another man at the post, 
 
 and went their way back, wishing him better luck. 
 
 " No need to be afraid," he called after them, *' I will not desert." 
 
 They looked back. He was standing with his musket ready to fly up to his 
 
 shoulder at the slightest sound, his eyes searching the glades before him. 
 
A CHANCE SHOT. 27 
 
 There was nothing faint about Tom, they determined, and returned to the 
 guard-house. 
 
 The sentinels were replaced every four hours, and at the regular time the 
 guard again marched to relieve the post. The man was gone ! 
 
 They rubbed their eyes, and searched again. But this one had disappeared 
 as mysteriously as his fellows. Again there was no single trace. But it was 
 all the more necessary that the post should not remain unguarded They were 
 forced to leave a third man and return,, promising him that the colonel should 
 be told of his danger as soon as they got back. 
 
 It was panic indeed that filled the regiment when they returned to the 
 guard-house and told the news. The colonel w^as informed at once. He 
 promised to go in person to the spot when the man was relieved, and search 
 the woods round about. This gave them some confidence, but they went 
 nevertheless with the gloomiest forebodings as to their comrade's fate. As they 
 drew near the spot they advanced at a run. Their fears were justified. The 
 post was vacant — the man gone without a sound. 
 
 In the blank astonishment that followed, the colonel hesitated. Should he 
 station a whole company at the post ? This would doubtless prevent further 
 loss ; but then it was little likely to explain the mystery ; for the hands that 
 had carried off three sentinels, would, it was reasonable to believe, make no 
 attempt to spirit away a whole company of men. And for future action as well 
 as to put an end to the superstitious terror of the soldiery, the vital necessity 
 was to clear up the mystery. He had no belief in the theory that these men 
 deserted. He knew them too well. He prided himself that he was thoroughly 
 acquainted with his own regiment, and had well-grounded reasons for pride in 
 his men For this reason he was the more chary of exposing a fourth brave 
 man where three had already been lost. However, it had to be done. The poor 
 fellow whose turn it was to take the post, though a soldier of proved courage 
 and even recklessness in action, positively shook from head to foot. 
 
 " I must do my duty, " he said to the colonel " I know that well enough ; 
 but for all that I should like to lose my life with a bit of credit " 
 
 There was no higher bravery than facing an indefinite terror such as this, 
 as the colonel was at pains to point out, but he added — 
 
 " I will leave no man here against his will." 
 
 Immediately a soldier stepped out of the ranks. 
 
 ",Give me the post," he said quietly. 
 
 The colonel looked at the volunteer admiringly, and spoke some words in 
 praise of his courage. 
 
 " No," said the man ; I have an idea, that is all What I promise 
 you is that I will not be taken alive I shall give you a deal of trouble ; 
 because you will hear of me on the least alarm If I am given this post, I 
 propose to fire my piece if I hear the slightest noise If a bird chatters 
 or a leaf falls, my musket shall go off. Of course you may be alarmed 
 
28 A CHANCE SMOT. 
 
 when nothing is the matter : but that's my condition, anu you must take the 
 chance." 
 
 "Take the chance !" said the colonel. "It's the very wisest thing you can 
 do You're a fellow of courage, and what's more, you're a fellow with a 
 head." 
 
 He shook hands with him, as did the rest of the soldiers, with faces full of 
 foreboding. " Come," said the man, " don't look so glum ; cheer up, and I 
 shall have a story to tell you when we meet again." 
 
 They left him and went back to the guard-room again. An hour passed 
 away in suspense. It seemed as though every ear in the regiment were on 
 the rack for the discharge of that musket. Hardly a man spoke, but as the 
 minutes dragged along the conviction gained ground that already the brave 
 man had followed the fate of the other three. The colonel paced up and down 
 in the guard-room, as anxious as any of the men. Ae looked at ^his watch 
 for the twentieth time. An hour and twenty minutes had gone. 
 
 Suddenly, down in the woods, the report of a musket rang out. 
 
 Colonel, officers, and men poured out of the guard-room, almost without 
 a word, and advanced at a double through the woods. The mystery was going 
 to be solved at last. Until quite close to the spot, they were forced, by the 
 thickness of the forest, to remain in ignorance of what had happened, and 
 whether their comrade was dead or alive. But they shouted, and an 
 answering " Halloa !" at last came back. As they turned into the glade where 
 the sentinel had been posted, they beheld him advancing towards them and 
 dragging another man along the ground by the hair of the head. 
 
 He flung the body down. It was an Indian, stone-dead, with a musket- 
 wound in his side 
 
 " How did it happen .>' " panted the colonel, beside himself with joy. 
 
 " Well," said the soldier, saluting, " I gave your honor notice that I should 
 fire if I heard the least noise That's what I did, and it saved my life ; and 
 it just happened in this way. 
 
 " I hadn't been long standing here, peering round till my eyes ached, when 
 I heard a rustling about fifty yards away. I looked and saw an American 
 hog, of the sort that are common enough in these parts, coming down the 
 glade opposite, crawling along the ground and sniffing to right and left — just 
 as if he'd no business in life but to sniff about for nuts under the fallen leaves 
 and all about the roots of the trees Boars are common enough, so I gave 
 him a glance and didn't take much notice for some minutes. 
 
 "But after awhile, thinks I to myself — 'No doubt the others kept their 
 eyes about them sharp enough, and was only took in by neglecting something 
 that seemed of no account ; ' so being on the alarm and having no idea wha^ 
 was to be feared and what was not, I woke up after some minutes and deter- 
 mined to keep my eyes on it and watch how it passed in and out among the 
 
A CHANCE SHOT. 29 
 
 trees. For I thought, if it comes on an Indian skulking about yonder, I may 
 be able to learn something from its movements. Indians are thick enough here 
 and to spare ; but they're not so thick as nuts, for all that. 
 
 " So I kept glancing at the hog, and then looking round and glancing again. 
 Not another creature was in sight ; not a leaf rustling. And then, all of a 
 sudden — I can't tell why — it struck me as queer that the animal was snuffling 
 around among the trees and making off to the right, seemingly for the thick 
 coppice just behind my post. I didn't want anything behind me, you may 
 be sure, not even a hog, and as it was now only a few yards from my coppice 
 I kept my eye more constantly on it, and cast up in my mind whether I 
 should fire or not 
 
 " It seemed foolish enough to rouse you all up by shooting a pig ! I fingered 
 my trigger, and couldn't for the life of me make up my mind what to do. 
 I looked and looked, and the more I looked the bigger fool I thought myself 
 for being alarmed at it. It would be a rare jest against me that I mistook a 
 pig for an Indian ; and this was a hog sure enough. You've all seen scores of 
 them, and know how they move. Well, this one was for all the world like any 
 other, and I was almost saying to myself that 'twas more like the average 
 hog than any hog I'd ever seen, when just as it got close to the thicket I 
 fancied it gave an unusual spring. 
 
 " At any rate, fancy or no, I didn't hesitate. I took cool aim, and directly 
 I did so, felt sure I was right. The beast stopped in a hesitating sort of way, 
 and by that I knew it saw what I was about, though up to the moment it had 
 never seemed to be noticing me. * An Indian's trick, for a sovereign,' thought 
 I, and pulled the trigger. 
 
 "It dropped over like a stone ; and then, as I stood there, still doubting if 
 it were a trap that I should fall into by running to look, I heard a groan — 
 and the groan of a man, too. I loaded my musket and ran up to it. I had 
 shot an Indian, sure enough, and that groan was his last. 
 
 He had wrapped himself in the hog's skin so completely, and his hands and 
 feet were so neatly hid, and he imitated the animal's walk and noise so cleverly, 
 that I swear, if you saw the trick played again, here before you, your honor 
 would doubt your honor's eyes. And seeing him at a distance, in the shadow 
 of the trees, no man who had not lost three comrades before him, as I had, 
 would ever have guessed. Here's the knife and tomahawk the villain had about 
 him. You see, once in the coppice he had only to watch his moment for 
 throwing off the skin and jumping on me from behind ; a dig in the back 
 before a man had time to fire his piece was easy work enough. After that 
 it's easier still to drag the body off and hide it under a heap of leaves. The 
 rebels pay these devils by the scalp, and no doubt if your honor looks about, 
 you'll find the collection our friend here has already made to-day." 
 
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET {p. 32 ) 
 
 II. 
 
 A RUN FROM A HORRIBLE DEATH. 
 
 John Glover, whom we will leave to tell his story, was kidnapped from his 
 home on the New River, Virginia, at the age of eight, by an Indian tribe 
 called the Miamecs, or Picts, and lived with them for six years. He was then 
 sold to a Delaware, and again transferred to a trader, of whom he was 
 purchased by the Shawanees With them he lived until his twentieth year, 
 when on the treaty of Fort Pitt he made himself known to some friends and 
 was induced with difficulty to give up his savage life. It was nine years after 
 this that the following adventure, the most thrilling in his varied life, 
 befel him. 
 
 " Having been a prisoner among the Indians many years, and so being Avell 
 acquainted with the country west of the Ohio, I was employed as a guide in 
 the expedition under Colonel William Crawford against the Indian towns on or 
 near the river Sandusky, in the year 1782. On Tuesday, the 4th of June, wc 
 fought the enemy near Sandusky, and lay that night in our camp The next 
 day we fired on each other at a distance of three hundred yards, doing little 
 or no execution. 
 
 " In the evening of that day it was proposed by Colonel Crawford, as I have 
 been since informed, to draw off with order ; but at the moment of our retreat, 
 the Indians — who had probably perceived that we were about to retire — firing 
 alarm-guns, our men broke and rode off in confusion, treading down those who 
 were on foot, and leaving the wounded men, who supplicated to be taken with 
 them. I was with some others in the rear of our troops, feeding our horses in 
 the glade, when our men began to break. The main body of our people had 
 
RUNNING FROM DEATH. 31 
 
 passed by me a considerable distance before I was ready to set out. I overtook 
 them before I crossed the glade, and was advanced almost in front The 
 company of five or six men with whom I had been immediately connected, and 
 who were at some distance to the right of the main body, had separated from 
 me, and endeavored to pass a morass. Coming up, I found their horses had 
 stuck fast in it, and in endeavoring to pass, mine also, like theirs, became 
 a captive. 
 
 "I tried a long time to disengage my horse, until I could hear the enemy 
 just behind me and on each side, but in vain. Here, then, I was obliged to 
 leave him. The morass was so unstable that I was up to the middle in it, 
 and it was with the greatest difficulty I got across it. However, at length I 
 came up with the six men, who had left their horses in the same manner as I. 
 Two of them had lost their guns. 
 
 " We travelled that night, making our course towards Detroit, with a view 
 to shun the enemy, whom we conceived to have taken the paths by which the 
 main body of our people had retreated. Just before day we got into a second 
 deep morass, and were under the necestity of stopping until it w^as light to see 
 our way through it. The whole of this day we travelled towards the 
 Shawanees' towns, with a view of throwing ourselves still farther out of the 
 reach of the enemy. 
 
 "About ten o'clock we sat down to eat a little, having tasted nothing from 
 Tuesday, the day of our engagement, until this time, which was on Thursday ; 
 and now the only thing we had to eat was a scrap of pork for each. 
 
 " We had sat down by a warrior's path, w^hich we had not suspected, when 
 eight or nine Indians appeared. Running off hastily, we left our luggage and 
 provisions, but were not discovered by the party ; for, after skulking some time 
 in the grass and bushes, we returned to the place and recovered our baggage. 
 The warriors had hallooed as they passed, and were answered by others on our 
 flank. 
 
 " We set off at break of day. About nine o'clock on the third day, we fell 
 in with a party of the enemy, about 138 miles from Fort Pitt. They had come 
 upon our track, or had been on our flank and discovered us ; and then, having 
 got before, had waylaid us, and fired before we perceived them. 
 
 "At the first fire, one of my companions fell before me, and another just 
 behind me. These two had guns. There were six men in company, and four 
 guns : two of these had been rendered useless by the wet when coming through 
 the swamp the first night ; we had tried to discharge them, but could not. 
 
 " When the Indians fired, I ran to a tree : but an Indian presenting himself 
 fifteen yards before me, desired me to deliver myself up, adding that I should 
 not be hurt. My gun was in good order ; but apprehending the enemy might 
 discharge their pieces at me, I did not risk firing. This I had afterwards 
 reason to regret, when I found what was to be my fate, and that the Indian 
 who was before me was one of those who had just fired. Two of my companions 
 
32 RUNNING FROM DEATH. 
 
 were taken with me in the same manner, the Indians assuring us we should 
 not be hurt. One of these Indians knew me, and was of the party by whom 
 I was taken in the last war. He came up and spoke to me, calling me by 
 my Indian name — Mannucothee, and upbraiding me for coming to war against 
 them, 
 
 " The party by whom we were made prisoners had taken some horses, but 
 left them at the glades we had passed the day before. From these glades they 
 had followed on our track. On our return, we found the horses, and each of 
 us rode. We were carried to a town of the Mingoes and Shawanees. 
 
 " I think it was the third day that we reached the town As we approached 
 t, the Indians, in whose custody we were, began to look sour, having been 
 kind to us before, and having given us a little meat and flour to eat, which 
 they had found or taken from some of our men on their retreat. The town 
 was small and, we were told, stood about two miles distant from the main town, 
 to which they meant to carry us. The inhabitants of this town came out with 
 clubs and tomahawks, and struck, beat, and abused us greatly. One of my 
 companions they seized, and having stripped him naked, blacked him with 
 coal and water. This was a sign that he must be burnt. The man seemed to 
 surmise it, and shed tears He asked me the meaning of being blacked, but I 
 was forbid by the enemy, in their own language, to tell him what was intended. 
 In English, which they spoke very easily, having bee's often at Fort Pitt, they 
 assured him he was not to be hurt. I knew of no reason for making him the 
 first object of their cruelty, unless it were that he was the oldest. 
 
 " A warrior must have gone on before to the larger town to acquaint them 
 with our coming and prepare them for the frolic ; for, on our coming to it, the 
 inhabitants came out with guns, clubs, and tomahawks. We were told we had 
 to run to the council-house, about three hundred yards. The man that was 
 black was about twenty yards before us in running the gauntlet. Him they 
 made their principal object ; men, women, and children beating him, and those 
 who had guns firing loads of powder on him, as he ran naked, putting the 
 muzzles of the guns to his body, shooting, hallooing, and beating their drums 
 in the meantime. The unhappy man had reached the door of the council- 
 house, beaten and wounded in a manner shocking to the sight ; for having 
 arrived before him, we had it in our power to view the spectacle. It was the 
 most horrid that can be conceived. They had cut him with their tomahawks, 
 shot his body black, burnt it into holes with loads of powder blown into him ; 
 a large wadding had made a hole in his shoulder, from whence the blood 
 gushed. 
 
 " Agreeably to the declaration of the enemy when he first set out, he had 
 reason to think himself secure when he had reached the door of the council- 
 house. This seemed to be his hope ; for coming up with great struggling and 
 endeavor, he laid hold on the door, but was pulled back and drawn away by 
 them Finding they intended no mercy but putting him to death, he attempted 
 
RUNNING FROM DEATH. 33 
 
 several times to snatch or lay hold of some of their tomahawks ; but being very- 
 weak he could not effect it. We saw him borne off, and they were a long time 
 beating, wounding, pursuing, and killing him. That same evening I saw the 
 dead body of the man close by the council-house. It was mangled cruelly, and 
 the blood mingled with the powder, was rendered black. Later, I saw the 
 body cut to pieces, and his limbs and head, about two hundred yards on the 
 outside of the town, put on poles. 
 
 "That evening also, I saw the bodies of three others, in the same black 
 and mangled condition ; these, I was told, had been put to death the same day, 
 and just before we reached the town. Their bodies as they lay were black, 
 bloody, and burnt with powder. Two of these were Harrison and young 
 Crawford. I knew the visage of Colonel Harrison, and I saw his clothing and 
 that of young Crawford at the town. They brought horses to me, and asked 
 me if I ^knew them. I said they were Harrison's and Crawford's. They said 
 they were. The third of these men I did not know, but believe to have been 
 Colonel M'Clelland, the third in command on the expedition. 
 
 " The next day, the bodies of these men were dragged to the outside of the 
 town, and their carcases being given to the dogs, their limbs and heads were 
 stuck'on poles. My surviving^ companion, shortly after we had reached the 
 council-house, was sent to another town, and I presume he was burnt and 
 executed in the same manner. 
 
 "In the evening the men assembled in the council-house. This is a large 
 building about fifty yards in length, and about twenty-five yards wide. Its 
 height was about sixteen feet, the whole building being constructed of split 
 poles covered with bark. Their first object was to examine me, which they 
 could do in their own language, inasmuch as I could speak the Miamee, 
 Shawanee, and Delaware tongues, which I had learned during my early cap- 
 tivity in the last war. I found I had not forgotten these tongues, especially the 
 two former, being able to speak them as well as my native language. 
 
 " They began by interrogating me concerning the situation of our country ; 
 what were our provisions ; our numbers ; the state of the war between us and 
 Britain. I informed them that Cornwallis had been taken, which next day, 
 when Matthew Elliot, with James Girty, came, he affirmed to be a lie, and the 
 Indians seemed to give full credit to his declaration. Hitherto I had been 
 treated with some appearance of kindness, but now the enemy began to alter 
 their behavior towards me. However, I was not tied, and could have escaped ; 
 but having nothing to put on my feet, I waited some time to provide for this. 
 In the meantime, I was invited to the war-dances, which they usually con- 
 tinued till almost day ; but I could not comply with their desire, believing these 
 things to be the service of the devil. 
 
 "The council lasted fifteen days, from fifty to one hundred warriors being 
 usually in council, and sometimes more. Every warrior is admitted to these 
 councils, but only the chiefs, or head warriors, have the privilege of speaking. 
 
'I STEPPED OVER THE WARRIORS AS THEY I,AY." (p. 36-) 
 
RUNNING FROM DEATH. 35 
 
 The head warriors are accounted as such from the number of scalps they have 
 taken. There was one council at which I was not present. The warriors had 
 sent for me as usual, but the squaw with whom I lived would not suffer me to 
 go, but hid me under a large quantity of skins. It may have been from an 
 unwillingness that I should hear in council the determination respecting my- 
 self, that I should be burnt. 
 
 "About this time, twelve men were brought in from Kentucky, three of 
 whom were burnt on this day, the remainder distributed to other towns, and 
 all, as the Indians informed me, were burnt. On this day also I saw an Indian 
 who had just come into town, and he said that the prisoner he was bringing to 
 be burnt, and who was a doctor, had made his escape from him. I knew this 
 must have been Dr. Knight, who went out as surgeon to the expedition. The 
 Indian had a wound four inches long in his head that the doctor had given him. 
 He was cut to the skull. 
 
 " At this time I was told that Colonel Crawford was burnt, and they greatly 
 exulted over it. The day after the council I have mentioned, about forty 
 warriors, accompanied by George Girty, came early in the morning round the 
 house where I was. The squaw gave me up. I was sitting before the door of 
 the house ; they put a rope round my neck, tied my arms behind, stripped me 
 naked, and then blackened me in the usual manner. George Girty, as soon as 
 I was tied, cursed me, saying that now I should get what I had deserved many 
 years. I was led away to a town distant about five miles, to which a messenger 
 had been despatched, to desire them to prepare to receive me. Arriving at 
 this town I was beaten with clubs and the pipe ends of their tomahawks, and 
 was kept some time tied to a tree before a house-door. In the meanwhile, the 
 inhabitants set out to another town about two miles distant, where I was to be 
 burnt, and where I arrived about three o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 " Here was also a council-house, part of it covered, and part of it with- 
 out roof. In the part of it where no cover was, but only sides built up, there 
 stood a post about sixteen feet in height, and in the middle of the house, 
 around the post, there were three piles of wood built about three feet from 
 the post. 
 
 " Being brought to the post, I had my arms tied behind me anew, and the 
 thong or cord with which they were bound was fastened to the post. A fresh 
 rope was put about my neck and also tied to the post about four feet above my 
 head During the time they were tying me, the piles were kindled and began 
 to flame. Death by burning, which now appeared to be my certain fate, I had 
 resolved to sustain with patience. The grace of God had made it less alarming 
 to me ; for on my way this day, I had been greatly exercised in regard to my 
 latter end. 
 
 " I was tied to the post as I have already said, and the flame was now 
 kindled. The day was clear, and not a cloud to be seen : if there were clouds 
 low in the horizon, the sides of the house prevented me from seeing them, 
 
36 KUNNING FROM DEATH. 
 
 but I heard no thunder, nor observed any sign of approaching rain. Just as 
 the fire of one pile began to blaze, the wind rose. From the time when they 
 began to kindle the fire and to tie me to the post, until the wind began to blow, 
 about fifteen minutes had elapsed. The wind blew a hurricane, and the rain 
 followed in less than three minutes. The rain fell violently, and the fire, 
 though it began to blaze considerably, was instantly extinguished. The rain 
 lasted about a quarter of an hour. 
 
 " When the storm was over, the savages stood amazed, and were a long time 
 silent. At last one said, " We will let him alone till morning, and take a whole 
 day's frolic in burning him." The sun at this time was about three hours high. 
 The rope about my neck was now untied, and, making me sit down, they began 
 to dance around me. They continued dancing in this manner until eleven 
 o'clock at night, in the meantime beating, kicking, and wounding me with their 
 tomahawks and clubs. 
 
 "At last one of the warriors asked me if I was sleepy ; I answered 'Yes' 
 The warrior then chose out three men to take care of me. I was taken to a 
 block-house : my arms were tied, round my wrist, and above my elbows, so 
 tightly that the cord was hid in the flesh. A rope was fastened about my neck 
 and tied to the beam of the house, but permitting me to lie down on a board. 
 The three warriors were constantly harassing and troubling me, saying, ' How 
 will you like to eat fire to-morrow ? You kill no more Indians now.' 
 
 "I was in expectation of their going to sleep. When, at length, an hour 
 before daybreak, two of them lay down, the third smoked a pipe, talked to me, 
 and asked the same painful questions About half an hour after, he also lay 
 down, and I heard him begin to snore. 
 
 " Instantly I went to work ; and as my hands were perfectly dead with 
 the cord, I laid myself down upon my right arm, and, keeping it fast with my 
 fingers, I stripped the cord from my left arm over ray elbow and wrist. 
 
 " One of the warriors now got up and stirred the fire. I was apprehensive 
 that I should be examined, and thought it was over with me But my hopes 
 revived when he lay down again. I then attempted to unloose the rope about 
 my neck, and tried to gnaw it, but in vain, as it was as thick as my thumb 
 and as hard as iron, being made of buffalo-hide I wrought with it a long time 
 but finally gave it up, and could see no relief. 
 
 " At this time I saw daybreak. I made a second attempt, almost without 
 hope, pulling the rope by putting my fingers between my neck and it, and to 
 my great surprise it came easily untied. It was a noose with two or three 
 knots tied over it. 
 
 " I stepped over the warriors as they lay, and having got out of the house, 
 looked back to see if there was any disturbance. I then ran through the town 
 into a cornfield. In my way I saw a squaw with four or five children lying 
 asleep under a tree. Going a different way into a field I noticed my arm, which 
 was greatly swelled and burnt black. Having observed a number of horses in 
 
RUNNING FROM DEATH. 37 
 
 the glade as I ran through it, I went back to catch one, and on my way found 
 a piece of an old rug or quilt hanging on a fence. This I took with me. 
 
 *' Having caught the horse, the rope with which I had been tied serving for 
 a halter, I rode off. The horse was strong and swift ; and the woods being 
 open and the country level, about ten o'clock that day I crossed the Sciota 
 river at a place about fifty miles from the town. I had ridden about twenty 
 miles on this side Sciota by three o'clock in the afternoon, when the horse 
 began to fail and could no longer go on a trot. I instantly left him and ran 
 on foot about twenty miles further that day, making in the whole the distance 
 of near one hundred miles. In the evening I heard hallooing behind me, 
 and for this reason did not halt till about ten o'clock at night, when I sat down, 
 was extremely sick, and vomited. But when the moon rose, which might have 
 been about two hours after, I then went on my way, and travelled till dayh^ht. 
 
 "During the night I had a path, but in the morning I judged it prucent 
 to forsake the path and to take a ridge for the distance of fifteen miles, in a 
 line at right angles to my course, putting back with a stick as I went along 
 the weeds which I had bent, lest I should be tracked by the enemy. I lay 
 the next night on the waters of the Muskingum. The nettles had been trouble- 
 some to me after my crossing the Sciota, as I had nothing to defend myself 
 but the piece of rug which I had found, and which while I rode I used 
 under me by way of a saddle The briars and thorns were now painful too, 
 and prevented me from travelling in the night until the moon appeared. In 
 the meantime, I was hindered Irom sleeping by the mosquitoes : even in the 
 day I was under the necessity of travelling with a handful of bushes to brush 
 them from my body. 
 
 "The second night I reached Cushakim. Next day I came to Newcomer's 
 Town, where I got about seven raspberries, which were the first thing I ate 
 from the morning in which the Indians had taken me to burn until this time, 
 which was now about three o'clock on the fourth day. I felt hunger very 
 little, but was extremely weak. I swam Muskingum river at Old Cromer's 
 Town, the river being about two miles wide. Having reached the bank I sat 
 down, and, looking back, thought I had a good start of the Indians, should 
 any pursue. 
 
 " That evening I travelled about five miles, and the next day came to Still- 
 water, a small river, in a branch of which I got two small cray-fish to eat. 
 Next night I lay down within five miles of Wheeling, but had not a wink 
 during the whole time, it being rendered impossible by the mosquitoes, which 
 it was my constant employment to brush away. Next day I came to Wheel- 
 ing, and saw a man on the island in the Ohio, opposite to that post, and, call- 
 ing to him, inquired for particular persons who had been in the expedition, and 
 told him I was Glover. At length, with great diffieulty, he was persuaded to 
 come over and bring me across in his canoe. Then was I safe." 
 
'■.^yy ■ '*-7 ^^ ^ ^ X 
 
 ^^-' 
 
 '. , ^^'i-f^ ■<■, 
 
 
 VENICK FROM THE RIVA DEGLI SCHIAVONI. 
 o, Ducal Palace ; 6, State Prison. 
 
 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 Venice, 1755 
 
 ASANOVA, or, as he preferred to style himself in full, John James 
 Casanova de Seingalt, student of the University of Padua, citizen 
 of Venice, wit, gambler, libertine, scholar, unbeliever, and fop, 
 was sleeping soundly in the early morning of July 25th, 1755, 
 when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and he awoke to find the chief of the 
 Venetian police standing at his bedside. 
 
 '• To what am I indebted for this honour ? " he asked, sitting up and rubbing 
 his eyes. 
 
 " To the fact," answered the officer, " that you are arrested by order of the 
 Tribunal of State Inquisitors. You will therefore immediately dress and follow 
 me, in the mean time handing over your keys and putting me in possession of 
 your books and papers." 
 
 "Certainly," said Casanova "I regret that my dressing usually takes a 
 
 considerable time, but if you do not mind waiting " 
 
 The officer bowed. *' My time is yours," he said, " if only you are reason- 
 ably quick." 
 
 Casanova called his valet, had his hair carefully dressed, and put on a silken 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 39 
 
 suit, as though bound for a ball rather than a prison. In the meanwhile, the 
 officer rummaged about the room, collected books — including many volumes of 
 the cabalistic writers — manuscripts, love-letters, and papers scribbled with verse, 
 while his involuntary host from time to time regarded his assiduity with a 
 gentle smile and inquired how he proceeded. 
 
 " I am quite ready now," said Casanova, at the end of an hour. 
 
 The police officer contemplated him grimly, and said, " I should have advised 
 a more serviceable suit of clothes. But since you are ready, come." 
 
 They quitted the chamber together. Outside his door, Casanova was as- 
 tonished to find no less than thirty policemen in waiting for him. 
 
 " You march at the head of an army," he observed. 
 
 The officer dismissed all but four of his attendants, who stepped with 
 Casanova into a gondolo that lay waiting, and proceeded with their prisoner to 
 the chiefs house. Here Casanova was kept four hours under lock and key. At 
 the end of this time the key turned, and the police officer again entered 
 the room. 
 
 "Where next.? 
 
 " To the Camerotti." 
 
 Casanova knew the Camerotti well enough by reputation. They were cells 
 in the State Prison that faces the Ducal Palace and is connected with it 
 by the Bridge of Sighs, that covered way over a narrow canal that has been 
 more painted and sung and written about, probably, than any other building 
 on earth. The cells in question were also known by the name of / Ploinbi, 
 from their position immediately under leaden roof of the prison ; and their 
 suffocating heat in summer-time was a by-word. 
 
 Casanova was led across the Bridge of Sighs, and presented, at the prison 
 door, to the Secretary of the Inquisition, who looked at him casually for a 
 moment, and said — 
 
 "It is he. Secure him carefully." 
 
 Without more to-do, the prisoner was marched upstairs, and found himself 
 at length in a squalid garret, about six yards long by two in breadth, and 
 lighted only through a skylight. " Surely," thought Casanova to himself, " they 
 do not intend to confine a man of my quality in such a den as this " They 
 did not ; he was not to get off so leniently. While he was looking about, the 
 goaler applied a large key to a small door in the wall, massively bound with 
 iron, and having a grating some eight inches square in its centre. 
 
 " What is that .**" asked Casanova, as the man was fumbling with the lock. 
 The fellow turned, and seeing Casanova's gaze fastened on the one piece of 
 furniture in the garret, laughed as at an excellent joke and explained — 
 
 " That ? Well, it's a machine. I advise you to be content and pray that 
 you make no nearer acquaintance with it, signor." 
 
 "A machine of torture, then.''" 
 
 " More strictly, of death. It garottes — strangles, you understand — those whose 
 
40 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 souls, in their wisdom, the Inquisitors determine must be saved by harsher 
 measures only. But come, here is your room." 
 
 The small door in the wall was flung open, and Casanova passed through. 
 To do so he was forced to bend double, for the entrance was but three feet 
 and a half in height. He was looking about when he heard the door slammed 
 behind him. His gaoler had left him. A voice through the grating asked what 
 he would have to eat. Casanova was beginning to lose his appetite, and had 
 lost his temper some time ago, so he answered sullenly that he had not yet 
 .thought about what he would have. The question was not repeated. He was 
 left to himself, listening to the footsteps as they died away in the distance, 
 and the sound of door after door as the gaoler locked them between him and 
 liberty. 
 
 But the prisoner was not a man to be easily overwhelmed, and so in a few 
 moments he recovered, and began to examine his cell. It was so low that he 
 was forced to stoop as he groped about. There was neither bed, table, nor 
 chair : nothing but a shelf, on which he laid his plumed hat and rich mantle. 
 As for light, there was little or none, for the tiny aperture in the roof through 
 which it should have come was crossed with bars of thick iron, and darkened 
 by a heavy beam, to boot. 
 
 The heat was insupportable. It drove him to the grating for a breath of 
 air He peered through, and saw in the garret beyond whole droves of 
 rats " as large as rabbits," with twinkling eyes, running to and fro and even 
 coming quite close to the door. He shuddered : rats were his special aversion, 
 and apparently they were to be his only companions. Hour after hour dragged 
 away, as he leant there panting for air, and no one came near him He grew 
 hungry, and soon, as the full horror of his plight broke on him, burst into a 
 frenzy. He howled, cursed, and flung himself against the door, beating it with 
 his fists. He prayed and screamed to be taken before his accusers. It was no 
 good. He only frightened the rats, and so, as night drew on, he bound a 
 handkerchief round his head and flinging himself on the floor, dropped asleep. 
 
 He had slept for three hours when the tolling of the midnight bell awoke him. 
 He stretched out for his handkerchief, and then sat upright with a shudder. His 
 hand had encountered another, stiff, and cold as ice. 
 
 For a moment or two fear held him like palsy. He could not move, 
 could hardly even think : then, with trembling, he put out his hand again 
 Still the frozen fingers were there. Could they have put a corpse beside him 
 while he slept .-' A third time he felt, and this time, moving his left arm, he 
 discovered that he had been touching his own hand, which had grown stiff and 
 cold by his having lain on it in his sleep. But Casanova could not see the 
 laughable side of his discovery. It rather seemed to him that his mind was 
 giving way, that truth was becoming a dream to him, and these illusions were 
 to torment the rest of his life until he should go raving mad. 
 
 Daylight, such as it was, brought more courage. He would certainly be 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 41 
 
 liberated presently, or at least brought to trial And the morning was not far 
 spent when the goaler appeared and asked him if he had yet had time enough 
 to decide upon what to eat. Casanova Ordered a liberal supply of food. " You 
 had better order a bed and some furniture," said the man, " while you are 
 about it. For if you fancy you will be here only one night, you are vastly 
 mistaken " 
 
 He handed a pencil and paper to the prisoner who gave him a list of what 
 he wanted " Read it over to me," said the goaler. Casanova did so. " Books, 
 ink, paper, razors, and looking-glass ! You'll have none of these. They are 
 against orders. And as for the rest, you'll have to pay for them. Casanova 
 found three sequins in his pocket and gave them over. The gaoler retired. 
 
 At noon the food and furniture came. He was then informed that the 
 Secretary would send him books more fitting than those mentioned on the list. 
 " Convey my thanks to the Secretary," said Casanova, " for this and also for 
 havmg given me a room to myself: for I detest low company." The keeper 
 laughed. " You'll be glad enough of the lowest company before long," he said, 
 as he went away. 
 
 Casanova pulled his table over to the grating for the sake of the gleam of 
 light that filtered in from the garret, and'sat down to his meal. To eat it, he 
 had but an ivory spoon. But he found he had a little appetite, and could not 
 manage more than a mouthful of soup. He went back to his armchair and 
 passed the time waiting feverishly for the promised books. They did not come. 
 The day wore to night, and again he slept but little. Out in the garret the 
 rats were scampering ceaselessly, and the huge clock in St. Mark's Tower, close 
 by, kept him awake with its vibrating noise. In addition he was tortured with 
 the fleas, which almost gave him convulsions. Again the gaoler appeared in the 
 early morning with breakfast, ordered the cell to be swept out, and produced 
 two large volumes which the Secretary had sent. Casanova examined them 
 eagerly. One was entitled "The Mystic City of God : by Maria of Jesus, called 
 Agreda ; " the other was a work written by a Jesuit, and designed to teach a 
 peculiar veneration for the heart of the Saviour. Casanova, whose taste for 
 theology was of the faintest, tried for a whole week to read the former of these 
 two volumes, and then abandoned it for fear that his mind would give way. It 
 was the wild rhapsody of a young woman whose brain had evidently been turned 
 by ascetism and the seeing of visions, and " such a work," says Casanova, "can 
 upset a man's reason if, as I was, he be shut up in the Carmerotti and depressed 
 by melancholy and bad food." 
 
 In nine days his store of money was exhausted ; and when the gaoler, Lorenzo. 
 asked to whom he should apply for more, he was answered "To nobody." 
 Lorenzo, who made a small fortune out of the prisoners in his care, went away 
 greatly depressed, but returned the next morning to announce that the 
 Tribunal would allow fifteen shillings a week for Casanova's maintenance. This 
 fifteen shillings he proposed to lay out to the best advantage for the prisoner, 
 
4* 
 
 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 keep an account, and return the balance, if any, at the end of a week. Casanova 
 assented. The allowance was ample enough, for the unhappy man had lost all 
 his appetite. The heat of the dog-days beating on the leaden roof above made 
 his cell a fiery furnace. All day he sat naked with perspiration streaming 
 from him ; next he caught the fever and kept to his bed. Lorenzo, afraid ot 
 losing a prisoner who paid him well, went at the end of three days for a 
 doctor. "You will be amazed," he told Casanova, " at the generosity of the 
 Tribunal. Why, you are to 
 
 have a doctor and medicines T" n • .■ s .n<* ^--^ :Si^Wll:tMYff^ 
 
 without its costing you a 
 
 penny 
 
 I 
 
 The doctor came, but Casa- 
 nova stoutly swore that as long 
 as Lorenzo remained in the 
 cell he would not open his 
 lips. " I will have no wit- 
 nesses," he said. The gaoler, 
 angry at first, was at length 
 induced to retire. Said the 
 physician, "If you wish to re- 
 cover you must banish your 
 melancholy." "Very well," 
 was the reply. " Quick ; 
 write a prescription, and take 
 it to the only apothecary who 
 can prepare the dose ! Signor 
 Cavalli, Secretary to the 
 Tribunal, is the fatal doctor, 
 who brought me to this by 
 prescribing 'The Heart of 
 Jesus ' and ' The Mystic City. " 
 
 The doctor lent his patient 
 
 , , T-. , 1 • » i J J J PRESENTED lO THE SECRETARY ( / 30 ) 
 
 "Bocthms to read, and made ^^ ^^ ' 
 
 the Secretary promise some healthier books, and Casanova's health rapidly 
 
 improved. 
 
 Another favour was granted him about this time — he was allowed to walk 
 in the garret whilst his cell was being cleaned. It was for eight or ten minutes 
 only, but he enjoyed it, and took care to reward the gaoler, in hopes of inducing 
 him to confer more favours. When Lorenzo, on the day this permission was 
 granted, came to settle the accounts, there remained a balance of some of five- 
 and-twenty shillings. Casanova gave it to him, telling him to get some masses 
 for it. " He thanked me as if he were the priest who was to say them. Every 
 month I repeated the gift, but never saw the receipt from any priest." 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER 43 
 
 The prisoner still cheated himself with hopes that the day of his liberation 
 was at hand, but these hopes slowly resolved themselves into despair. For 
 some time he calculated that October ist would he his day of freedom, as on 
 that day a new set of State Inquisitors came into office When it passed and 
 brought no change to his wretched life, for a whole week he raved about his 
 cell. A month after — on the 1st of November — he was gazing up at the heavy 
 beam that crossed the skylight, when he suddenly saw the timber bend and 
 shake. At the same time a tremor ran through the building, and he himself 
 lost his balance and fell on the floor. He knew the shock — it was an earth- 
 quake. In a few moments it was repeated. Regardless of his own danger, he 
 prayed aloud, "Another ! another, great God ! but stronger ! " 
 
 It was the same earthquake that shook Lisbon in ruins But it brought no 
 relief to Casanova. He had made up his mind by this time that his imprison- 
 ment was to last for life, and now bent all his mind on devising some means 
 of escape For some time the monotony of his life was varied by his having a 
 companion in misery. The new-comer was a youth named Maggiorino, who had 
 been servant in the household of a count, and was sent to prison because he 
 had fallen in love with the count's daughter. Casanova lent him his mattress 
 for the first night, and in the morning Lorenzo came and announced that a 
 small sum had been granted for the new prisoner's support. Casanova told him 
 to keep the money, adding that he himself would share provisions with 
 Maggiorino. Overcome with with this generosity, Lorenzo granted the donor 
 leave to walk for an hour every day in the corridor of the prison. 
 
 Maggiorino soon left Casanova alone again. The poor youth, who was madly 
 in love, was transported to another part of the prison, to a windowless dungeon 
 where an oil-lamp supplied all the light that was to be had. Here he remained 
 five years, and was then banished for ten more. 
 
 In a few days, however, Casanova had another companion. This time it was 
 a shabby, stooping, cadaverous creature, of about fifty, with a peculiarly malig- 
 nant face. On the first day the stranger fed at Casanova's expense ; on the 
 second, when Lorenzo asked him for money, he declared he had not a shilling. 
 "Oh, very well," said the gaoler, "you shall have a pound and a half of ship's 
 biscuit, then, and some very good water." After the gaoler had gone, Casanovo 
 said, " It was imprudent of you to bring no money," " I have plenty of money, 
 but there's no need to let these harpies know it." He was an usurer who had 
 been entrusted with a large sum by a certain nobleman, and had attempted to 
 deny the deposit. The matter had come to a trial, with the result that the 
 usurer was cast, and was to be held in prison until he had made restitution 
 and paid the costs. After spending four days in prison he was sent for by the 
 Secretary, and in his haste slipped on Casanova's shoes instead of his own. In 
 half an hour's time he returned, looking extremely downcast, took two heavy 
 purses out of his own shoes, and returned. Casanova saw him no more; 
 apparently the Secretary had been too much for the usurer. 
 
44 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 On the 1st of January, 1756, Casanova received from a former patron, one 
 Bragadino, a New Year's gift of a beautiful dressing-gown lined with fox-fur, a 
 silken coverlet quilted with wool, and a bearskin bag to put his feet in. For 
 his cell in winter was as cold as in summer it was stifling. The patron added 
 an allowance of six sequins a month to enable Casanova to purchase books and 
 papers. So overcome was the unhappy prisoner with this news that, as he says, 
 " in the fulness of my heart I pardoned my oppressors; indeed, I was very 
 nearly led to abandon all thoughts of escaping, so pliant is man after suffering 
 has bent and abased him." 
 
 It may easily be imagined, however, that with Casanova this feeling soon 
 passed. He now bent his thoughts earnestly on escaping By leading his gaoler 
 to converse, he discovered some details in the construction of the prison that 
 he afterwards turned to account. But his main hope lay in the daily walk of 
 half an hour now allowed him in the corridor. In his walks he had discovered 
 two old chests lying in a corner, together with a heap of lumber. One of these 
 chests was locked. The other he found to contain feathers, paper and string, 
 and a slab of what at first he thought to be black marble. It was a smooth 
 piece of stone about six inches long, three inches wide, and an inch thick. 
 Almost without considering what use might be made of this, he slipped it into 
 his pocket, and, on returning to his cell, hid it beneath his shirts. 
 
 Some time after, when walking, he found his attention caught by an iron 
 bolt, as thick as his thumb, lying amid the lumber. It struck him that this 
 might be converted into a weapon of some kind. This also he concealed in his 
 cell ; and on discovering the supposed slab of marble, found to his joy that it 
 was a whetstone. 
 
 Still without definite aim in what he did, and partly to beguile his dul- 
 ness, Casanova now set to work to point the bolt. It was weary work, but 
 he toiled for two weeks, moistening the whetstone with his spittle, and rubbing 
 until his left hand became one large blister. At the end of this time, however, 
 he had turned his bolt into an excellent stiletto, and felt that something was 
 done, at any rate. He hid the weapon in the straw of his arm-chair, and set 
 to work to think on his next step. 
 
 For five days he considered, and then decided that his one chance was to 
 break through the floor of his cell The State cells — one of which he occupied 
 — were in the roof and covered with heavy leaden plates. Casanova's, with two 
 others, was on the western side of the prison. The sole exit was through the 
 prison gate, the Bridge of Sighs, and the Ducal Palace, and the key was kept 
 by the Secretary, to whom it was handed by the gaoler when his daily attendance 
 on the prisoners was over. 
 
 Casanova had found out from Lorenzo that the Secretary's room was under- 
 neath his cell, and also that it was open every morning. His plan, as far as 
 he had formed one, was to dig a hole in the floor, descend into the Secretary's 
 room by a rope made out of his bedclothes, hide under the table, and watch 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 45 
 
 his opportunity to break cover. But then, of course, he might meet with a 
 sentinel before he could gain the prison gate with the Secretary's key ; if so, he 
 would kill that sentinel with his dagger. 
 
 Thus far his plans were matured ; yet he could not even begin his work, 
 for so bitter was the cold that directly he grasped the iron his hands froze to 
 it. Moreover, for nineteen hours out of the twenty-four he was in utter dark- 
 ness, for the fogs were so thick and the skylight so obscured that even by day- 
 
 "HE HEARD THE TRAMP OF FOOTSTKPS " (/ 47 ) 
 
 light he could hardly see to the other end of his cell. But at length a thought 
 struck him — he would contrive to manufacture a lamp to work by. He had 
 neither the lamp itself nor the accessories — wick, oil, flint, or tinder — but by 
 degrees he contrived to possess himself of all. He managed to conceal in his 
 bedding an earthen pipkin that was brought one day with his meals, the oil he 
 saved from his salad, the wick was manufactured from cotton which he took 
 out of his bed, and a buckle in his belt he used as a steel. He still wanted a 
 flint and tinder ; but these also he obtained by the following strategems. By 
 pretending to have the tooth-ache he induced Lorenzo to give him a piece of 
 flint to be steeped in vinegar and applied to his tooth. At the same time he 
 obtained a small quantity of sulphur as liniment for an acute irritation of the 
 skin which he feigned. Tinder only remained to seek. After racking his 
 brains for three days, he at last bethought him that he had ordered his tailor 
 to pad his silk waistcoat under the armpits with sponge, to prevent stains. His 
 
46 THE PRISON BREAKER. 
 
 heart beat as he looked at his clothes, for the tailor might have neglected his 
 orders. He paused for minute after minute between hope and fear, and it was 
 not without a prayer that he at last felt under the armholes ol the vest : the 
 sponge was there. He poured the oil into the pipkin, set the wick in, and the 
 lamp was ready. Henceforward he no longer dreaded the approach of night. 
 
 He resolved to begin his labours on the first Monday in Lent But here 
 another obstacle occurred. He had always been eagerly anxious to have his 
 room swept, to keep within reasonable bounds the numbers of vermin that 
 tortured him. But if his room was swept every day, how could he hope to 
 remain undetected in his operations on the floor ? He therefore desired that 
 they would no longer sweep out his cell. For a week Lorenzo fell in with 
 this wish ; but at length, perhaps from a vague suspicion that something wrong 
 was going forward, he had the room cleaned and the bed moved, and even 
 brought in a light, on the pretence of seeing that the work had been thoroughly 
 done. 
 
 But in Casanova he was overmatched. Next morning the prisoner was ill in 
 bed, coughing as though his last hour were at hand, and declaring that the 
 chill had caused him to break a blood vessel in the night. For proof he held 
 out a handkerchief, which was indeed stained with blood — for Casanova had 
 cut his thumb for that purpose. " See," he cried, " how I have bled ! Please 
 send for a doctor at once ! '' 
 
 The doctor was sent for, heard Casanova's complaint, and declared it just. 
 Henceforward his room was left unscrubbed. 
 
 And now Casanova set to work. He pulled his bed out of its alcove, lit his 
 lamp, and commenced upon the boards with his dagger. They were sixteen 
 inches in breadth, and he began to bore at the seam where two of them joined. 
 At first the chips he dug out were no bigger than grains of wheat, but as he 
 got forward with his work they increased in size. He worked for six hours 
 at a stretch, gathered all the splinters together in a handkerchief, and flung 
 them behind the lumber in the corridor when he took his daily walk. 
 
 He bored through the plank and found another of equal thickness ; and a 
 third again below that. These three boards took him three weeks. But when 
 he had worked through them a still more stubborn obstacle was to be over- 
 come — a sort of mosaic pavement of marble, on which his stiletto could 
 make no impression. He remembered, however, Livy's story of Hannibal, 
 and how he had softened the rocks of the Alps by vinegar. He moistened, 
 therefore, the mortar of the mosaic with the vinegar which had been given 
 him, and at the end of four days was able, to his satisfaction, to work with 
 comparative ease on this pavement. After this came another plank, and this 
 was the worst of all to cut through, for by this time the hole was ten inches 
 deep, and it was only with great difficulty that he could use his dagger. 
 
 It was June by this time, and almost a year since his incarceration, when 
 one day as he lay flat on the ground, digging, with perspiration streaming 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 47 
 
 down his naked body, he was startled to hear the tramp of footsteps and 
 the rattling of bolts in the distance. He had only just time to blow out his 
 lamp, and push the bed back in its place, before Lorenzo entered. He brought 
 a new prisoner, who said as he entered, " Where am I ^ Where am I to be 
 shut up, and with whom ? What a heat, and what a smell ! " At the sound 
 of his voice Casanova started. The new-comer was an old friend oi his, a 
 Count Fanarola, a pleasant and honorable gentleman who had been committed 
 for some remarks he had uttered against the Tribunal. Delighted to have 
 such a companion, Casanova for some days almost forgot his project of escape ; 
 but Fanarola was soon liberated, and the work began again. 
 
 He now found that the room underneath was indeed the Secretary's, but 
 also discovered that his hole had been made just over an immense cross-beam, 
 so that he was obliged to work away towards one side Meanwhile he stopped 
 up with bread the puncture he had made in the Secretary's ceiling, that the 
 light of his lamp might not be observed. 
 
 On August the 23rd, 1756, all was ready, but he resolved to postpone his 
 attempt to break through until the 27th, on which day — St Augustine's Day — 
 the grand council would meet, so that the ante-room next the chamber, through 
 which he must pass, would be left empty. 
 
 It was an ill-fated piece of prudence. "On August 25th," he says, "an 
 event happened which even to this day makes me shudder when I recall it. 
 I heard the bolts drawn. A fear like death took hold of me ; my heart beat 
 so that my body shook with it, and almost in a swoon I dropped into my 
 arm-chair. Lorenzo, while yet in the garret, called through the grating to me 
 in a joyful tone, ' I wish you joy of the news I bring you .'" 
 
 " I fancied that he brought me news of freedom, and felt myself lost. The 
 hole in the floor would shut me off from liberty. In came Lorenzo and bade 
 me follow him. I was dressing myself, but he declared it unnecessary, 
 saying he was only going to transport me from my present hateful cell to 
 another, new and well lit, with two windows whence I could overlook Venice, 
 and stand upright to boot. I was nearly mad. I asked for vinegar, and bade 
 him thank the Secretary, but beg him to leave me where I was. Lorenzo 
 said, ' Are you mad, that you will not change Hell for Paradise .'' ' and giving 
 me his arm, issued order that my books, bed, &c., should be brought after. I 
 saw it was in vain to oppose further. I rose and left my cage, and with some 
 small joy heard him order my chair should be carried with me : my stiletto 
 was hidden in its straw If it had been possible that my labour on the floor 
 could have gone with me also ! 
 
 "Leaning on Lorenzo's shoulder, while he tried by jesting to make me 
 joyful, I passed two long corridors, over three steps into a spacious and well-lit 
 hall, and then through a door at the left end of it into a corridor some twelve 
 feet long by ten broad. There were two windows here which gave me a wide 
 view of the city, but I could not rejoice as I looked. The door of my new cell 
 
48 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 was in the corner of this corridor, and its grating faced one of the windows in 
 the passage, so that one imprisoned there could not only enjoy the view, but 
 even breathe the fresh air that came through the open window — a healing balm 
 to any mortal at this time of year ; but, as the reader may imagine, I did not 
 think of this at the time. Lorenzo left me and my chair, into which I flung 
 myself, and said he was going for my bed." 
 
 Casanova sat for some time in this arm-chair completely overwhelmed by the 
 blow. It seemed to him that with the discovery of his attempted escape the 
 severest of punishments would be dealt out to him. He had heard oi tlie ivells 
 — those silent dungeons where, beneath the waters of the lagoons, the most 
 hopeless of the Venetian prisoners dragged out their days — and he was thinking 
 of this as his probable fate when the door was flung violently open and 
 Lorenzo rushed into the room. 
 
 He was purple with passion, and rolled out torrent on torrent of blasphemous 
 oaths. " Give me the axe ! Give me the axe," he cried, " with which you have 
 been working ! Who made it — who gave it to you .'' Tell me his name ! I'll 
 
 have you searched ; I'll " 
 
 But here Casanova's old spirit returned. He calmly said — 
 *' Dear me ! what is all this ? Search by all means, if you will." 
 Prisoner, bed, and mattress were searched, and searched in vain. Luckily 
 the arm-chair was not explored. 
 
 " So you won't tell me ! " screamed Lorenzo. " I'll see if others cannot make 
 you confess." 
 
 " My good Lorenzo," answered Casanova, '* pray consider. Speak a word, 
 and I shall say that you yourself supplied me with the tools, and that you 
 yourself have received them back from me." 
 
 This was too much. Lorenzo howled, stamped, ran his head against the 
 wall, capered like a maniac, cursed until the cell echoed again, and dashed 
 away. When he returned Casanova's threat had had its effect. The goaler 
 secretly filled up the hole, and was very careful to breathe no word about it to 
 his masters. 
 
 He was vindictive, however. He closed all the windows and made the heat 
 of the place intolerable, he brought bad food, stinking water, and hard bread in 
 place of the usual diet, and in a hundred ways made his prisoner's life a 
 burden. For a week Casanova perspired and suffered in silence. Then he said 
 to Lorenzo — 
 
 " My good friend, when I get my liberty I shall assuredly throttle you. 
 Meanwhile, about that money .-' " 
 
 The gaoler again gave in ; but not before Casanova had, in the presence of 
 the sub-gaolers, demanded his account and accused him of cheating. After that 
 he seized the first opportunity to make his peace It happened that the patron 
 Bragadino had sent Casanova a basket of lemons and a chicken ; Lorenzo added 
 a bottle of good water and brought the whole to the prisoner, at the same time 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 49 
 
 ordering the windows of his cell to be opened. Casanova was appeased, told 
 him to divide a sequin among his underlings, and make a present to his wife 
 of the rest of the balance. 
 
 " But," said Lorenzo, when they were alone, " you say I gave you the tools 
 with which you made that hole in the floor. Well, I am not curious to know 
 about that. But who gave you the lamp ? " " Why you did," was the answer ; 
 *' you gave me oil, flint, and sulphur." " Very true ; can you prove as easily 
 that I helped you to break through the floor.-'" " Just as easily ; I obtained 
 everything from you. I will confess all, but only in the presence of the Secre- 
 tary." "No, no. I will inquire no further, but take your word Be silent, I 
 entreat you, and remember that I am a poor man with a family." Lorenzo left 
 the cell, holding his hands to his face. 
 
 All the same, Casanova was for the future carefully watched, and every day 
 the sub-goaler searched the walls and the floor of his prison with an iron bar. 
 But Casanova laughed at these precutions. He had a new plan. This time he 
 would open communications with the prisoner above, whom he would furnish 
 with his dagger. The hole should be made in the ceiling of his cell, and he 
 would ascend into the upper cell and then break out by way of the roof. 
 
 Of all mad schemes this seems at first blush the maddest. For even suppose 
 the prisoners to have ascended to the roof, the chances of their recapture were 
 still enormous. And how was the initial step to be taken — that of com- 
 municating with his fellow prisoner } As luck would have it, Lorenzo himself 
 set the scheme in motion. 
 
 The gaoler, who, according to Casanova, •' would have sold St. Mark himself 
 Vor a dollar," was always inclined to take it ill that his prisoner's money should 
 pass into any pocket but his own. One day Casanova desired him to procure 
 the works of Maffei. '* Dear me ! " was the answer ; " you spend a deal of money 
 on books. Why not borrow sometimes from the man above your head ? He, 
 too, reads a great deal, and no doubt your tastes have something in common." 
 " The very thing," said Casanova. " Why did you not suggest it before ? " 
 
 Next day a volume of Wolff's writings was brought from upstairs. On 
 turning over the leaves, Casanova found a loose sheet of paper among them, 
 containing a paraphrase in verse of a sentence of Seneca. Casanova shaped the 
 nail of his little finger into a sort of pen, and with some mulberry-juice con- 
 trived to write some verses and a catalogue of his books on the last leaf of 
 the tome. 
 
 With the next volume came an answer. The writer stated that he was a 
 monk, Marino Baldi by name, and of good family ; that he had a fellow 
 prisoner, one Count Andreas Asquino, of Udino, and that together they begged 
 to make Casanova welcome to borrow any of their books. In reply Casanova 
 sent an account of himself and his sufferings; and with the next book came 
 a long letter, and also, at the back of the binding, paper, pen, and pencil which 
 the two prisoners had become possessed of by bribing the sub-gaoler. 
 
50 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 The sub-gaoler had also told the prisoners of Casanova's attempted escape, 
 and they were eager to know if he had any further plans. Casanova hesitated, 
 but finally resolved that the monk must be trusted. He put his scheme in 
 writing and sent it with the next volume. The monk made some objections 
 which were overruled, and Balbi undertook to bore through the floor if Casanova 
 could only manage to send up the stiletto. 
 
 How was this to be done .-' At length a plan was hit upon. Lorenzo was 
 directed to buy a large folio volume of a certain work, in the back of which 
 Casanova thought he could conceal the weapon. To his chagrin, the dagger 
 turned out to be two inches longer than the volume. But Casanova was equal 
 to this. He told Lorenzo that he desired to celebrate Michaelmas Day by 
 making a present to the prisoner who had lent him the books, of a plate of 
 macaroni, dressed with butter and Parmesan. Lorenzo answered that the 
 prisoner wished to borrow the great volume that had just been procured. 
 "Very well," said Casanova, "I will send the two presents together. Get me 
 the largest dish you can procure I will myself prepare the macaroni, and you 
 can carry it up." 
 
 While Lorenzo was going for the dish, Casanova wrapped up his stiletto in 
 paper and stuck it behind the binding of the folio. He was sure that if he 
 put the large dish on top of the book, Lorenzo would be so occupied in carrying 
 it safely that he would never spy the end of the steel projecting. He had 
 told Balbi of this, and charged him to be careful to take both dish and book 
 together out of the gaoler's hands. Lorenzo brought in a great pan and Casa- 
 nova poured the stuff out into it until it swam to the brim. He thefi set the 
 dish on the volume and gave the two to Lorenzo, saying, " Stretch out your 
 arms well and go carefully, or the butter will run over the book." '* I observed 
 him steadily," says the prisoner. " His eyes were riveted on the butter, which 
 he feared to spill. He suggested that it would be better to take the dish first 
 and then come back for the book. I told him that by doing so he would 
 rob my present of half its value. 'Very \\ ell,' he said, 'please yourself, only 
 it won't be my fault if the butter runs over.' I followed him with my eyes 
 and then heard him go cautiously upstairs ; and presently Balbi coughed three 
 times, which was the signal that all was well." 
 
 Balbi now began the work of digging. He was young and strong, and 
 though he did not work with the same restless energy that Casanova had dis- 
 played, he had, by the middle of October, progressed so far that only one plank 
 remained to be cut through. He would then have to push in the ceiling, and 
 this, of course, was to be left to the last moment. But once more, and when 
 Casanova was already beginning to exult, an obstacle arose. He heard the 
 outer doors opening, and had only just time to make the signal to Balbi to stop 
 working when Lorenzo brought in a companion — a small, shrivelled man, wear- 
 ing a threadbare suit and a black wig, "He is a great scoundrel, I'm afraid,'' 
 said Lorenzo, " I'm afraid he looks it," answered Casanova. The gaoler ordered 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 5» 
 
 a mattress to be brought, and informing the new-comer that tenpence a day 
 was allowed for his maintenance, took his leave. 
 
 The new comrade's name was Sorodaci. He was a low informer, and-o/ic 'of 
 the worst scoundrels in Venice ; and found himself in prison fo- naving given 
 false evidence to the Tribunal. Luckily, he was incredibly • superstitious, and 
 Casanova worked upon his failing. He could not out off his attempt, which was 
 
 "'I OBSERVED HIM STEADILY*" ( /). 50 ) 
 
 fixed for the last night in October, as on November ist the Secretary would be 
 absent from the prison and paying his annual visit to the villages round Venice, 
 and Lorenzo ussually took advantage of this absence to make merry with his 
 friends — to such an extent, indeed, that he never rose until late on the following 
 morning, and the prisoners had to wait for their breakfasts in consequence. 
 
 Casanova actually persuaded the unhappy Sorodaci that the Holy Virgin 
 was about to send an angel for his release. "I shall mount through the ceiling," 
 said he, " and you will see me no more ; it will come, this succour, in about 
 
52 . THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 five days' time." The gross idiot at last implicitly believed that this miracle 
 would be worked When on the evening of the 31st the plaster gave way 
 and the. monk Balbi descended into their cell, he knelt and jabbered prayer after 
 prayer, until Tasanova had much ado to refrain from riotous laughter. 
 
 There was no cme to be lost, however ; so taking the stiletto from Balbi, 
 Casanova climbed into the upper cell to look about. At the first glance he 
 saw that the other prisoner, Count Asquino, was too old and feeble to attempt 
 to share in the enterprise. He was seventy years of age, and frankly owned he 
 had not the nerve to attempt to escape. " I have no wings," he said, *' with 
 which to descend from the roof, but will remain and pray for you who have 
 more strength and fewer fears." 
 
 On trying the roof, Casanova found it break away so easily that an hour 
 would suffice for making the necessary opening. He returned to his own cell, 
 cut up the sheets, napkins, and shirts to make a stout rope, firmly tied, and a 
 hundred feet in length, and then dressed himself for the escape. He and the 
 monk then re-ascended, and, whilst Balbi packed, Casanova attacked the roof. 
 
 At length he was able to thrust his head through the hole, and saw 
 to his dismay that the moon was high and clear, and would prevent the 
 attempt till a later hour, when St. Mark's Place below was empty. As it was, if 
 any in the crowd looked up, they could not fail to be observed moving about 
 the roof. The count lent them two sequins, which was all the money they 
 had : and after the moon had gone down, the two climbed up together and 
 out on the leads. The spy refused to accompany them : his courage failed him, 
 and Casanova with great readiness left him behind. 
 
 The further history of this enterprise shall be told in Casanova's own words : 
 
 "I hung the bundle of cord on Balbi's shoulder, flung his parcel over the 
 other, and having loaded myself, led the way. Most of my clothes I carried in 
 my parcel, but wore my hat on my head. I climbed and looked through the 
 opening. There was a mist about, but every object was visible enough. Stoop- 
 ing and clambering, I thrust the point of my weapon between the lead plates to 
 serve me as a support. Holding to this with one hand, and with the other to 
 the plank on which the plate had lain, I pulled myself up the roof Balbi 
 followed, grasping my sash behind. I was like a beast of burden, and had to 
 drag as well as carry ; and in this way I had to ascend the steep and slippery 
 side of the roof. 
 
 " We were halfway up this perilous place, when Balbi asked me to stop, 
 saying that one of his bundles had fallen off and had probably been arrested 
 by the gutter below. I had a mind at first to give him a thrust that would 
 send him after it, but Heaven restrained mc ; and mercifully, for the punish- 
 ment would have fallen on me, for his help was necessary to me. When I 
 heard that the bundle held his black gown, a couple of shirts, and a manuscript, 
 I consoled him as well as I could. He sighed and followed, still clinging tQ 
 my sash. 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. ^3 
 
 *' I climbed over some sixteen of these lead plates, and then reached the 
 ridge of the roof, on which I set myself astride. The monk imitated me. Our 
 backs were turned towards the island of St. Georgio Maggiore, and about 
 two hundred paces in front rose the cupola of St Mark's. Here we took 
 off our bundles, and Balbi stuck the rope between his legs ; but on laying his 
 hat upon his right knee, it rolled off down the roof and tumbled over into the 
 canal. He held it a bad omen, and lamented that he had now lost hat, gown, 
 shirts, and papers ; but I advised him to be thankful that it had fallen to the 
 right and not to the left, or it would have given the alarm to the sentinel in the 
 arsenal below. 
 
 " I looked about me a little, and then, ordering Balbi to sit still until I 
 returned, began to clamber forward along the ridge, my stiletto in my hand. 
 For an hour I climbed thus, seeking for a hold for the rope : but all the places 
 below were enclosed, and there were insurmountable difficulties in the way of 
 getting to the canonica on the far side of the church. Yet everything must be 
 risked, and I must not allow myself to dwell upon the danger. 
 
 ** About two-thirds of the w^ay down the slope of the roof, I noticed a dormer 
 window, which I judged would lead to some passage in the dwelling-houses 
 outside the limits of the prison. Probably at daybreak some of the doors lead- 
 ing out of it would be open : and even if any one met us and discovered we were 
 escaping prisoners, I made up my mind tbat he should find it difficult to 
 detain us. 
 
 " With one leg stretched out tow^ards this window I let myself slide down 
 gently until I reached the little roof of it, and set myself there. I next leaned 
 over, and by feeling, found it to be a window, with small circular panes of 
 glass behind a grating. To work through this, a file was needed, and I had a 
 stiletto only. 
 
 " Sorely dejected, I knew not what step to take next, when I was recalled 
 to myself by the clock of St. Mark's striking midnight. Its note announced 
 the morning of All Saints' Day, and called on me to act and promised me 
 success. Lying flat on my stomach, I reached over and struck time after 
 time with my dagger at the grating, in hopes of forcing it in. In a quarter 
 of an hour I had smashed four of the wooden squares, and my hand clutched 
 the framework of the window ; the panes of glass were quickly broken in, for 
 I did not mind cutting my hand. 
 
 "My next step was to climb back to the ridge of the roof and rejoin my 
 companion. I found him in a fury, and cursing me roundly for having left 
 him alone for two hours. He had made up his mind that I had tumbled 
 off the roof, and was on the point of returning to his cell. ' What are you going 
 to do ? ' he asked. ' That you will soon see,' I answered and packing up his 
 bundle he followed me. 
 
 " We reached the roof of the dormer window, and then I told him what 
 I had done, and what I intended. It would be easy enough for the first man. 
 
54 
 
 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 as the second would hold the rope, But how would the second fare in his 
 turn ? He might break his leg in leaping down from the window-sill to the 
 floor within, for we had no idea of the height of the room. Balbi promptly- 
 proposed that I should let him go first. I just contrived to conceal my anger 
 at his selfishness, and proceeded to grant him his wish. Having tied the 
 rope round him, I set myself astride of the window-roof and let him down, 
 making him rest his elbow on the roof whilst he inserted his legs into the hole 
 which I had made. I then laid myself prone on the ridge, and bade him be 
 satisfied that I would keep a firm hold on the rope. 
 
 " He wriggled in and came safely down to the floor, untied himself, and I 
 drew the rope back. But as I did so I measured and found that the space 
 between the window-ledge and the floor was ten times my arm's length. To 
 jump this was impossible. 
 
 " Balbi called to me to throw him the rope, but I took care not to follow 
 his advice. In despair I clambered up to the main roof again and there found 
 a cupola, somewhat beyond the part of the ridge which I had traversed. It led 
 me to a stage covered with lead plates, and having a trap-door in it covered 
 with shutters. A tub of fresh lime was standing here, and a fairly long ladder. 
 On this I seized, and, tying my rope to one of the rungs, climbed back to the 
 roof, pulling the ladder after me. 
 
 " It was twelve times the length of my arm, and I meant, if I could, to thrust 
 it in at the dormer window and use it to join my companion. It was now 
 that I missed Balbi's help. I lowered the ladder down to the gutter below, 
 so that one end stood in the gutter and the other leant against the window. 
 I then pulled, at it with the rope, and endeavoured to get the end in at the 
 window, but in vain. It would not catch in the window-frame, but always 
 came sliding over the edge of the roof 
 
 " Matters were desperate Day would come and find me still struggling, 
 and bring Lorenzo too. I resolved to slide down the roof to the gutter, and 
 work the ladder in from below. I did so. The gutter gave me a resting- 
 place as I lay at full length and pushed. At last I managed to push it a foot 
 into the window, and this took much of its weight off me. But it was necessary 
 to thrust it in yet two feet more. I should then be able to climb back to the 
 window-roof and pull it completely in by the rope. To do this I had to rise to 
 my knees, and as I did so they slipped off the gutter and I lay with my legs 
 dangling in air, and my chest and elbows only preventing my fall 
 
 " I put forth all my strength to pull myself up and back to the gutter. 
 Luckily the ladder gave me no trouble, for it was now three feet in at the 
 window, and did not move. I tried to raise my right knee up to the gutter, and 
 had almost succeeded when I was taken with a paralysing and torturing cramp ! 
 
 "It was a horrible moment. For two minutes I hung motionless and in 
 agony. At length the pain abated, and I succeeded in lifting one knee after 
 another up to the gutter again. I rested a few minutes to breathe, and then 
 
'FOR TWO MINUTES I HUNG IN AGONY"' (P. 54> 
 
56 THE PRISON-BREAKER. 
 
 pushed the ladder still further in at the window. My next step was to return 
 to the window-roof and draw the ladder right in. Balbi caught it and made it 
 fast : then, after throwing in my bundle and rope, I lowered myself in at the 
 window, and sliding down the ladder, stood by my companion. 
 
 " We shortly congratulated each other, and proceeded to inspect the dark 
 room in which we found ourselves. After some time we found a window, the 
 latch of which I raised, and passed through into a spacious hall. In this hall 
 we felt round the walls, and presently came on a window, the sash of which I 
 flung up, and by the light of the stars looked down into a fearful abyss No 
 descent could be made here with our rope. I returned to one of the arm- 
 chairs, and flinging myself into it, was seized with such an overwhelming desire 
 to sleep, that if I had been told it was death, I must still have given way to it. 
 I cannot describe the strength of the feeling. 
 
 " In three hours' time the monk awoke me. He complained that to sleep 
 at such a time and in such a place was unutterable folly. I agreed with him, 
 but at the same I felt refreshed and ready now for new work. We groped 
 about until we came on a large iron door, and opposite to it a smaller one 
 with a keyhole ; into this I thrust the pomt of my dagger, crying, * Heaven 
 grant that it be not a cupboard ! ' 
 
 ¥ " After a trial or two the lock yielded, and entering a small chamber we 
 found a table with a key on it. We tried it on the first key-hole we could 
 discover ; it opened the lock, and we stood in cupboards filled with papers. It 
 was the archive chamber. We passed up a few steps, opened a glass door, and 
 entered the Chancery of the Doge. I now knew where I was, but I reflected 
 that if we let ourselves down from the windows, we should probably drop among 
 a perfect maze of courtyards, whence egress would be impossible. So I caught 
 up an instrument used for piercing parchments to afiix the seals, and giving it 
 to Balbi, told him to work away with it upon the next door, which was locked, 
 whilst I helped with my stiletto, 
 
 " We bored away, not caring for the noise, until we had made a tolerably 
 big hole. But the splinters menaced our clothes when we attempted to creep 
 through ; and the hole was five feet from the ground, for I had picked the 
 place where the panel was thinnest. I pulled up a chair, and the monk getting 
 on it, stuck his arms and head through the aperture, while I pushed the rest 
 of him through into the next room. Its darkness did not frighten me, for I 
 knew where wc were, and flung my bundle after him. The rope I now left 
 behind As there was no one to help me, I set a chair on the top of two 
 others, and clambered through as far as my loins ; after this I bade Balbi pull 
 me with all his force, and disregarded the pain of the splinters which tore my 
 flesh. We then hurriedly stole down two flights of stairs and came to the 
 passage leading to the Royal Stairs, as they are called ; but here we were pulled 
 up. The gates here as well as those beyond were shut with four broad doors, 
 to force which would have demanded a siege-engine. 
 
THE PRISON-BREAKER. 57 
 
 "I sat myself down by Balbi, quite calmly, and told him that my work was 
 finished, and the rest Heaven and fortune would help us accomplish. ' To- 
 day,' I added, ' is All Saints' Day, and to-morrow All Souls'. No one, there- 
 fore, is likely to come here. If any one does, he will open the gate, in which 
 case I will deliver myself, and you must follow ; if nobody, then I will stay here 
 and die of hunger, for I have done all I can.' 
 
 " Balbi flew into a furious rage. I kept my temper, however, and now set 
 about dressing myself. Though Balbi looked like a rustic, his dress, at any rate, 
 was free from the rents and bloodstains that disfigured mine. I pulled off my 
 stockings and found deep wounds on either foot, which I owed to the gutter 
 and the lead roof. Tearing my handkerchief into strips, I bandaged the wounds 
 and tied them round with some thread which I had about me. I donned my 
 silk dress, arranged my hair, put on my silk stockings and shirt with lace 
 ruflfles, and flung my cast-off clothes into a chair. I looked like a dishevelled 
 rake. Balbi tossed my handsome mantle over his shoulders and looked for all 
 the world as if he had stolen it. 
 
 "I now drew near to a window and leaned out into the daylight. As I 
 learned some years after in Paris, a lounger below spiedme, and, going to the 
 porter of the palace, informed him that some one was up there, doubtless 
 locked up by mistake. The fellow came to release us. I heard the sound of 
 footsteps ascending the stairs towards us, and peering through a chink, saw 
 only one old man with a bunch of keys in his hand. 
 
 " I whispered to Balbi to be silent, and concealing my dagger in my clothes, 
 stood close to the door so that I could reach the stairs with one spring. The 
 key turned and the door was pushed open. So amazed was the old man to 
 see us, that I was able to pass him quickly and silently. The monk followed 
 at my heels. I walked at a moderate pace, straight for the Grand Staircase. 
 Balbi would have turned into the church on the right ' for sanctuary,' as he 
 said, forgetting that in Venice there was no such sanctuary for State criminals 
 and capital offenders. At length, however, he followed me. 
 
 " I expected no safety in Venice, and knew that I was in peril until I had 
 passed the frontier I stood now before the Royal Gate of the Ducal Palace : 
 without looking at a soul, which is the best way to escape observation, I 
 hurriedly crossed the Piazzetta, reached the canal, and jumped into the first 
 gondola I found. 
 
 "We looked back. No gondola was in pursuit of us. It was a glorious day, 
 lit up with the early beams of a delightful sun. I thought on the dangers I 
 had passed, on my abode of yesterday, on all the chances that had so wonder- 
 fully favoured me ; and as I did so, I silently thanked God for his mercy. 
 Borne down by many emotions I burst into tears, which eased my heart of the 
 burden of joy that had almost crushed it." 
 
58 
 
 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 ijOME fourteen miles to the south-west of Plymouth, England, and in a 
 line with Start Point and the Lizard, there rises, from the depths of 
 the billowy Channel, a ledge of rocks. At low water the jagged 
 points of this dismal reef can be seen above the waves, like the teeth 
 of some hungry wolf; with the rise of the tide, the long ridges are covered, and 
 the spot can only be known by the swirl and rush of the currents. 
 
 For at no time do these cease, and when the wind is blowing stiffly from the 
 south-west they seem to focus and concentrate all its fury. At such a time the 
 neighbourhood of the reef is destruction to the bravest ship, and the boiling 
 seas have a secure prey. Their fury is incredible ; " mountainous " is no mere 
 figure of speech when applied to their height and volume ; and even when the 
 wind falls and the waters sink, there remains a grim assurance that what the 
 reef has done it will do again, in the ceaseless clash of currents, tossing and 
 washing around, that have given it the name of the Eddystcme. 
 
 Lying, as it does, not only full in the water-way towards the port and 
 arsenal of Plymouth, but also in ambush for all vessels sailing in or out of the 
 crowded Channel, it has been the terror of navigators since England began to 
 be a commercial nation. And for centuries the erection of a lighthouse upon 
 the dreary ledge was acknowledged to be an urgent want Yet tiie task of 
 building it was held so dangerous, and the difficulties of firm censtruction so 
 forbidding, that until 1696 no one seriously undertook the task. 
 
 Even in 1696, the man who came forward might well have been considered 
 mad In many respects he would be held so nowadays. His name was Henry 
 Winstanley, and to the strangeness of his undertaking he united a strangeness 
 of character that gives his story all the air of a romance In figure he was tall 
 and lean, in face cadaverous, with that peculiar type of feature which men have 
 agreed to fasten on Don Quixote, And indeed, in many respects, Henry 
 Winstanley would seem to have resembled the noble knight of La Mancha. 
 He, too, was a chivalrous and patriotic gentleman — he had been led to under- 
 take the task simply through grief at the loss of life which the Eddystone 
 occasioned .year by year — and is described to us as one of those fantastic 
 natures which live in perpetual conflict with the commonplace, and struggle 
 with every weapon of imagination and invention to make life tolerable by mak- 
 ing it mysterious. The weapon of Winstanley was a deep scientific knowledge, 
 and nimble inventive faculty. Of the direction in which it was exercised, some 
 idea may be gained in the following manner : — 
 
THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 59 
 
 Suppose yourself invited by Winstanley to spend a few nights at the old 
 Essex manor-house where the solitary student had immured himself. All went 
 well until your host showed you to your room and left you for the night. You 
 made a step or two over the worn carpet and caught your foot against an old 
 slipper. You kicked it aside, and to your horror and amazement a whita, 
 sheeted ghost rose from the floor and fixed its glaring eyes on your face. 
 Startled almost out of your wits, you took a hasty step back from the apparition 
 and sank into a chair. Immediately, and from behind, a pair of arms clasped 
 you about the neck and held you fast. By this time fairly distraught, you 
 struggled violently, flung yourself free, and dashed from the room and the 
 house. The hall door was open, and through it you fled into the antique 
 garden, between the trim hedges of box and yew, and finally found yourself 
 standing on a neatly-kept lawn of turf, at the end of which a trellised arbour 
 invited you to sit and collect your senses. Scarcely had you dropped upon the 
 rustic seat when the bench rose with you into the air, floated out of the 
 arbour, over the neighbouring hedge, and deposited you gently in an artificial 
 lake beyond ! 
 
 By such devices as this, Winstanley occupied his leisure and endeared 
 himself to his friends. But at length the idea of erecting a lighthouse on the 
 Eddystone reef turned his invention to a worthier channel. Even in this, 
 however, his whimsical fancy asserted itself. The design gave one the impression 
 rather of a Chinese pagoda than a lighthouse. It began, soberly enough, in a 
 circular tower, but the summit was finished off with galleries, and the whole 
 was ornamented with chains and cranes like a London warehouse ! 
 
 The work was begun in the summer of 1696 — for it was only in summer 
 that men could venture on that dreary reef. The first year was spent in ex- 
 cavating twelve deep holes in the solid rock, and sinking in each a solid bar 
 of iron to hold the superstructure firm. All this was done but slowly, for al- 
 though it was summer, the violence of the sea often prevented labour for a fort- 
 night at a time ; and even when the wind abated it was difficult to find a land- 
 ing on the largest rock, which was the one Winstanley had chosen ; for the reef 
 points to the north-east, and the rocks spread their inclined sides to the roll of 
 the Atlantic billows, and as they continue in this shelving direction for many 
 fathoms below the surface, the "ground swell" thus occasioned renders the 
 utmost caution necessary for the advancing boat. 
 
 The second summer was spent in erecting a solid and circular mass of 
 masonry, fourteen feet in diameter, and clamping it securely around the iron 
 bars. Twelve feet was the height to which the work rose this year. In the 
 third summer, as the masonry rose above the assault of the waves, the work 
 went on more briskly. The base was enlarged by two feet, and the super- 
 structure carried up to a height of sixty feet 
 
 " Being all finished" — so writes the engineer — "with the lantern and all the 
 rooms that were in it, we ventured to lodge in the work. But the first night 
 
to THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 the weather became bad, and so continued, that it was eleven days before any 
 boats could come near us again ; and not being aquainted with the height of 
 the sea's rising, we were almost drowned with wet, and our provisions in as bad 
 a condition, though we w^orked day and night as much as possible to make 
 shelter for ourselves. In this storm we lost some of our materials, although 
 we did what we could to save them ; but the boat then returning, we all left 
 the house to be refreshed on shore. And as soon as the weather did permit, we 
 returned and finished all, and put up the light on the 14th of November, 
 1698 : which being so late in the year, it was three days before Christmas be- 
 fore we had relief to go on shore again, and were almost at the last extremity 
 for want of provisions. But, by good Providence, then two boats came with 
 provisions and the family that was to take care of the light, and so ended the 
 year's work." 
 
 Next year the base of the tower was greatly strengthened, and the rest of 
 the fabric finished off. Round the lantern ran an open gallery, so wide that 
 we are assured it was possible, when the sea ran high, for a six-oared boat to 
 be lifted up on the crest of the waves and driven through it ! It was not likely 
 that a tower so constructed could long hold out against the tearing seas of the 
 Eddystone, but to Winstanley at least is due the credit of discovery that a 
 lighthouse was possible on this reef, and therefore this first erection merits the 
 description given to it as " one of the most laudable enterprises which any 
 heroic mind could undertake," for it filled the breast of the mariner with 
 new hope. 
 
 Whatever the doubts that existed in some minds, Winstanley, at any rate, 
 was confident in the stability of his structure. In the month of November, 
 1703, it was found that the fabric stood in want of some repairs, and its archi- 
 tect travelled down to Plymouth to superintend their performance. As he was 
 stepping into the boat, we are told, that was to convey him and his workmen 
 to the reef, one of the friends expressed the opinion that his trip was likely 
 to be a dangerous one ; " for " said he, " one day or other your lighthouse will 
 assuredly be overset." 
 
 Winstanly replied — 
 
 " I, its designer, am at any rate so very well assured of its strength, that I 
 should only wish to be there in the greatest storm that ever blew under hea- 
 ven, to see if it could loosen one joint or beam." 
 
 He was taken at his word. For while he and his workmen were engaged 
 upon the rock, there happened that dreadful storm that raged most violently 
 upon the 26th of November, 1703, throughout the night — a storm which, by all 
 accounts that have been handed down to us, has never been paralleled in the 
 havoc it wrought upon the shores of Great Britain. When, next morning, the 
 men of Plymouth hurried from their beds, and looked out towards the Eddy- 
 stone, the seas were still raging about the rock, but the lighthouse was there 
 no longer ! The waves had swallowed it with its architect. 
 
'•* 
 
 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 6l 
 
 It is of this terrible storm that Gay writes in his Trivia : — 
 
 ' ' So when fam'd Eddystone's far-shooting ray, 
 That led the sailor through the stormy way, 
 Was from its rocky height by billows torn, 
 And the high turret in the whirlwind borne. 
 Fleets bulged their sides against the craggy land, 
 And pitchy ruins blackened all the strand." 
 
 When the rock was inspected, nothing was found standing but the large 
 
 winstanley's lighthouse. 
 
 irons which had held the building to the bed of rock ; the stones, the wood- 
 work, the inhabitants had vanished. There was only discovered of the whole, 
 a piece of an iron chain so fast jammed into a chink of the rock that it could 
 never be disengaged until cut out in 1756. 
 
 The following is an extract from a book published in 1704, soon after Win- 
 stanley's death, and entitled " The Storm " : — 
 
62 THE STOR7 OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 " Of the loss of the lighthouse called the Eddystone at Plymouth, we have 
 never heard any particulars other than this : that at night it was standing, and 
 In the morning all the upper part of the gallery was blown down and all the 
 people in it perished ; and by a peculiar misfortune, Mr. Winstanley, the 
 contriver of it ; a person whose loss is very much regretted by such as knew 
 him, as a very useful man to his country. The loss of that lighthouse is also 
 a considerable damage ; as 'tis very doubtful whether it will ever be attempted 
 again ; and as it was a great securitie to the sailors, many a good ship having 
 been lost there in former times. It is very remarkable that, as we are informed, 
 at the same time the lighthouse above said was blown down, the model of it 
 in Mr. Winstanley's house at Littlebury in Essex, above two hundred miles 
 from the lighthouse, fell down and was broke to pieces. At Plymouth they 
 felt a full porportion of the storm in its utmost fury. The Eddystone has 
 been mentioned already : but it was a double loss, in that the lighthouse had 
 not been long down when the WincJielsea, a homeward-bound Virginiaman, was 
 split upon the rock where that building stood, and most of her men drowned." 
 
 But the attempt was to be made again, and before the conclusion of Queen 
 Anne's reign. A certain Captain Lovet, having obtained a lease of the rock 
 from the Brethren of the Trinity House, determined to replace Winstanley's 
 structure. To this end he engaged as his architect one John Rudyard, who 
 combined a taste for designing with the occupation of a silk-mercer on Ludgate 
 Hill. Of this Rudyard (or Ludyard, as he is variously known) little is told us, 
 and we hear nothing of the reasons which led Captain Lovet to make this 
 choice. But whatever they were, they were justified by the new edifice, which 
 was a strong though graceful structure, circular and simple, so as to offer the 
 least resistance to wind and wave 
 
 To obtain his foundation, Rudyard parcelled out the surface of the rock 
 into seven slightly unequal divisions of height, and in these he bored thirty-six 
 holes, of a depth varying from twenty to thirty inches. Each hole at the top 
 was six inches square, and after gradually narrowing to five inches, expanded 
 at the bottom to nine inches by three. Into these sockets Rudyard inserted 
 strong bolts of iron, in weight from two to five hundredweight. These held 
 fast the lowest course of squared oak timbers, laid lengthwise on the lowest of 
 the seven stages, until the course was on a level with the next step or stage 
 just above it. Then a course of beams was laid transversely, raising the height 
 to that of the third stage, and so on, the layers being laid alternately along 
 and across, until a foundation of solid timber was raised, two courses higher 
 than the highest point of the rock itself 
 
 The structure was of timber combined with courses of Cornish granite, so 
 far as the basement went : first two courses of timber, then five courses of 
 granite, then two more of timber, and so on — the whole being secured with iron 
 bolts and cramps. On this substructure, which atttained a height of sixty-three 
 feet, were four storeys of timber capped by an octagonal lantern, ten feet six 
 
THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 63 
 
 inches in diameter. The total height was ninety-two feet ; the stone employed 
 was two hundred and seventy tons, and the base measured twenty-three feei: 
 across. The work was finished in 1709. 
 
 It lasted long. For nearly half a century it continued to keep the vessels 
 off the deadly reef, and then it perished by a fate which its constructor could 
 not have foreseen, and under circumstances to the full as tragic as those sur- 
 rounding the death of Winstanley. 
 
 On the 2d of December, 1775, it was standing, to all appearance, as firm 
 as ever. Some trifling repairs had been made in the course of the sumnicr, 
 but the workmen engaged had finished their work by the 22d of August, and 
 had returned to shore. Since then the relieving boat had paid many visits to 
 the rock, and found all well. Indeed, only the morning before (December ist) 
 it had been and landed stores, when the light-keepers made no manner of com- 
 plaint. All was right, they said, except that one or two bricks in the kitchen 
 fireplace had been loosened by a late storm. 
 
 There were three light-keepers in the tower at the time. At about two 
 o'clock in the morning, the one whose turn it was to watch entered the 
 lantern, as usual, to snuff the candles, and found the whole place in a smoke. 
 To let the smoke escape he ran to the door leading to the balcony and flung 
 it open. Immediately a flame burst forth from the inside of the cupola. He 
 shouted to his comrades, but they were fast asleep in bed, and could not hear 
 him. The fellow, now thoroughly alarmed, bethought him of the leather buck- 
 ets always kept in the lighthouse, and the tub of water that stood in the lantern, 
 and attempted to extinguish the flame by throwing water from the balcony 
 upon the coating of lead which covered the cupola. 
 
 At last his cries awakened his comrades, and they hurried up to assist. He 
 encouraged them to fetch up water from the sea in the leather buckets. But 
 to do this they had to descend full seventy feet, and reascend with each pair 
 of buckets ; and when we reckon the quantity that must needs be spilt in such 
 a hurry and scramble, it may be imagined that the work of extinguishing the 
 fire would go on but slowly. 
 
 Indeed, the flames gathered strength with every moment. The poor stream 
 of water, which the unfortunate man had to throw full four yards higher than 
 his own head, was of little service. He was fighting every inch, however, when 
 his labours were cut short by a remarkable accident. 
 
 He was looking upward and straining his eyes to mark the direction and 
 success of the water thrown. In such an attitude the mouth is naturally a 
 little open. At that moment a quantity of lead, molten by the heat, suddenly 
 poured down in a silvery cascade from the roof and fell, not only on the man's 
 head and face and shoulders, but over his clothes ; and a part of it even made 
 its way between his neck and his collar, horribly scalding his throat and 
 shoulders. From this moment the poor fellow felt convinced, from the violent 
 internal sensation that accompanied his other agonies, that a quantity of lead 
 
64 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 had dropped into his mouth, passed down his throat, and settled in his body. 
 But of this there will be more to tell presently. 
 
 " As every attempt " — says Smeaton in his "Narrative" — "had proved in- 
 effectual, and the rage of the flames was increasing, it is not to be wondered 
 that the terror and dismay of the three men increased in proportion ; so that 
 they all found themselves intimidated, and glad to make their retreat from that 
 immediate scene of horror into one of the rooms below, where they would find 
 themselves precluded from doing anything, for had they thrown ever so much 
 water there, it could not have extinguished the fire that was burning abo\e 
 them, nor indeed produce any other effect than of running down into the 
 rooms below ; and thence, finally, through the staircase back again into the sea 
 They seem, therefore, to have had no other recourse or means of retreat than 
 that of retiring downwards from room to room, as the fire advanced over 
 their heads." 
 
 Early that morning the fire was perceived by some of the Cawsand fishermen, 
 and intelligence carried to a Mr. Edwards, of Rame, in that neighbourhood — "a 
 gentleman of some fortune and more humanity." He immediately sent out a 
 fishing-boat and men to the relief. 
 
 Mr. Edwards' boat reached the reef at about ten o'clock in the morning. 
 By this time the fire had been burning eight hours, and the three keepers 
 were not only driven from all the rooms and the staircase, but to avoid the 
 falling of timber, red-hot bolts, and other debris, had been driven to hide 
 themselves in a hole or cave on the east side of the rock under the iron ladder, 
 where, in a state of stupor, they awaited deliverance. Had the tide been high, 
 even this slight shelter would have been denied them. 
 
 The wind was easterly, not blowing very fresh, but sufficiently hard to make 
 a landing at the proper landing-place (which is upon the east side of the rock) 
 quite impracticable. How were the men to be taken off.'* for the ground-swell 
 on the western side would allow of no landing upon its slippery surface. At 
 length an expedient was hit upon. Having a small boat with them, they 
 moored their principal boat, by a grapnel, to the westward, coming as near the 
 rock as they durst. Then, launching their small boat, they rowed it towards 
 the rock, veering out a rope, which they had fastened to the large boat, till 
 they were near enough to throw a small coil of rope upon the rock. The 
 men on the rock caught it, bound it round their waists, and jumping into the 
 sea, were towed into the small boat and thence delivered into the large one. 
 
 At this point we may again take up the words of the *' Narrative " : — "As 
 they found that it was out of their power to do any further service, this boat 
 hastened to Plymouth to get the men relieved. No sooner, however, were they 
 set on shore than one of them made off, and has never since been heard of: 
 which would, on the first blush, induce one to suppose there was something 
 culpable in the man ; and if it had been a house on shore, one would have been 
 tempted to suspect he had been guilty of some foul play. But the circumstance 
 
XHB BURNING LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
66 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE 
 
 of its being a lighthouse, situated so as to afford no retreat in the power of its 
 inhabitants seems to preclude the possibility of its being done wilfully, as he 
 must know he must perish, or be in extreme danger of so doing at least, along 
 with the rest. I would therefore rather impute his sudden flight to that kind 
 of panic which sometimes on important occasions seizes weak minds, making 
 them act without reason, and in so doing commit actions the very reverse in 
 tendency of what they mean them to have, and of which they have afterwards 
 reason to repent. The man already described to have suffered so much by the 
 molten lead was sent to his own house at Stonehouse, a village near the place 
 where they landed. 
 
 " It was not long after the alarm was made at Cawsand that the dreadful 
 news reached Plymouth ; and as, from the composition of the structure, it was 
 thought that a considerable part of it might be saved, at least of the founda- 
 tion, endeavours were not wanting for that purpose ; for Mr. Alderman Tolcher, 
 the agent and collector of the duties, who was a perfect enthusiast for the wel- 
 fare of the lighthouse, and his son, Mr. Joseph Tolcher, immediately went out to 
 sea : Both gentlemen were ever, but then more than ever, indefatigable in their 
 endeavours for its preservation. When they came there, alas ! what could 
 they do ? There was no landing, except at the imminent hazard of their lives ; 
 and if landed they could not do anything. They could therefore only have 
 the supreme mortification to behold that after the rooms and all the upper 
 works were totally destroyed, the fire was rapidly communicating itself to the 
 solid ; and there being many beds of solid timber above all the stone, their con- 
 nection with those below, by means of the mast and stairs in the well-hole, and 
 by the upright timbers on the outside, would not suffer a doubt to remain that, 
 after such a mass of fire was generated above, it would gradually communicate 
 itself to the beds of timber interposed between those of stone, and by that 
 means consume the whole. 
 
 "The late worthy Admiral West, who then lay with a fleet in Plymouth 
 Sound, on hearing of the accident, immediately sent out a sloop, properly 
 manned, with a boat and an engine therein, which also carried out Mr. Jessop, 
 the surveyor. This vessel also arrived early in the day on which the fire 
 happened. In endeavouring to make a landing of the engine, on the west side, 
 it being then about low water, the boatmen and engine were at once tossed 
 upon the rock by the wave, which on its retreat left them thereon ; and before 
 the engine was got out of the boat another wave came, set them afloat, and 
 swept them back again to their former situation. British tars are not dismayed 
 with small matters ; however, this accident sufficiently taught them to be 
 thankful to escape with their lives, and to make no further attempt to land ; 
 yet they, notwithstanding, tried to play the engine from the boat ; but the 
 agitation of the sea near the rock was such that they very soon broke the 
 engine-pipe. And so ended this well-meant expedition, in a total dis- 
 appointment." 
 
THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 67 
 
 In fact, the lighthouse was burnt to the rock ; indeed, before very long the 
 interposed beds of timber heated the granite courses in their turn, until the 
 whole became one huge mass of red-hot matter. It was not until the 7th, five 
 days from the outbreak of the fire, that the joint action of wind, wave, and 
 fire completed the catastrophe, and left no other relics of Rudyard's structure 
 than the bare iron cramps and branches that still stood upright from 
 the rock. 
 
 To return to Hall, the unhappy man whom the lead had scalded. On his 
 arrival ashore he still persisted in his story that some of the liquefied metal 
 had passed down his throat. The doctors roundly declared this impossible, and 
 began to think that the terrors of the fire had rendered the man a mono- 
 maniac. But he grew rapidly worse, and after lingering twelve days, ex- 
 pired at last in terrible convulsions, A post-mortem examination proved the 
 truth of his strange assertion, for in the stomach was found a flat, oval-shaped 
 piece of lead, seven ounces and five drachms in weight. 
 
 So perished the second Eddystone Light. But before we leave Rudyard's 
 lighthouse, we may mention a story or two connected with it. 
 
 It appears that for some time after the establishment of the lighthouse, two 
 men only at a time attended to it ; indeed, the duty required no more, for 
 beyond keeping the windows of the lantern clean — and, in general, the rooms — 
 there was nothing to attend to but the alternate watch of four hours each, to 
 snuff and renew the candles, each man at the end of his watch taking care to 
 call and arouse the other. It happened, however, that one of the men was 
 taken ill and died, and although the survivor hoisted a distress-signal, the 
 weather was so bad that no boat could approacli the rock to relieve him. Thus 
 placed, the man found himself in an awkward dilemma. He might dispose of 
 the body by tumbling it into the sea, but how if he were charged with 
 murdering his comrade .'' This apprehension led him for some time to let the 
 dead body lie, in hopes that the boat might be able to land and relieve him. By 
 degrees the body became so offensive that it was not in his power, without help, 
 to get rid of it. It was near a month before the relief party could effect a 
 landing, and then only at hazard of their lives. They found the body, of 
 course, in a hideous state of decomposition, and the survivor utterly worn out 
 with want of sleep and the other horrors of his plight. After this a third man 
 was employed — a regulation which not only provided against accidents, but also 
 afforded the light-keepers a seasonable relief ; for in summer, in their turns, 
 they were allowed each to go on shore and spend a month among their friends 
 and acquaintances. 
 
 Here is another story of the time Avhen two men only kept watch : — Certain 
 visitors who had seized the opportunity of a still summer day to come and 
 look at the lighthouse, observed to one of the men that it must be very cosy 
 and comfortable to live in such a state of retirement. "Yes," said the fellow, 
 "very comfortable indeed, if we could only have the use of our tongues. But 
 
68 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 it is now a full month since my comrade and I have spoken to each other." 
 And we are assured that he spoke the truth. It seems that the pair would 
 seldom stay in a room together. If one sat above, the other was found below ; 
 and their very meals were solitary, each, like a brute, carrying off his food and 
 growling over it in a corner alone. And yet there was no lack of candidates 
 when the lightkeeper's post fell vacant. Smeaton relates an anecdote to 
 show how widely the opinions of men may differ concerning the nature of 
 seclusion. A certain cobbler who had obtained the post, and was being carried 
 out to the rock by the relief boat, was asked : " How comes it that you, who 
 can earn your hali-crown and three shillings a day in making shoes, should 
 choose to be a light-keeper, with a pay of but £2i, a year, which is scarce ten 
 shillings a week.?" "Why, 'tis just this," answered the shoe-maker: "I've 
 got tired of confinement." 
 
 Though two light-houses had disappeared off the Eddystone reef, the 
 Trinity House Corporation lost little time in trying again. They were fortunate 
 in the selection of their architect — one John Smeaton, a maker of mathematical 
 instruments, and a promising engineer. Smeaton at the time was thirty-two 
 years of age, a man prompt, patient, full of resource, and absolutely indefatig- 
 able in the face of difficulty. The Trinity Board has been fortunate in its 
 servants, but never has it had a brighter inspiration than that which led it to 
 put the construction of the new Eddystone Light into this man's hands. 
 
 Almost as soon as he began to examine the task before him, Smeaton came 
 to the conclusion that the two former buildings had lacked weight ; and that, 
 even if spared by fire, Rudyard's lighthouse could not much longer hnve held 
 out against the storms of the Channel. Consequently his first care was to design 
 a building so massive that the sea should give way to it ; and as a further 
 consequence he determined to employ stone only, He adopted Rudyard's con- 
 ception of a cy«zV<a:/ building, but proposed to enlarge the diameter considerably. 
 The type which he kept before him throughout was that of an oak-tree, which 
 neither bends nor is broken before the tempest. Further, whereas his two 
 predecessors had lost much valuable time owing to the difficulty of landing on 
 the reef, Smeaton proposed to moor a vessel within a quarter of a mile of his 
 scene of operations, sufficiently large to accommodate his workmen, so that 
 instead of wasting hours in voyaging to Plymouth and back, they might be 
 able to seize every opportune moment. 
 
 The work began in the autumn of 1756 — less than a year after the fire — with 
 the transport of stone and other materials to the rock, in shaping them, and in 
 cutting out the steps or stages to receive the foundations. 
 
 In June, 1757, the building began. The first stone, in weight two tons and 
 a quarter, was laid on the 12th, and the first course, of four huge stones, was 
 finished on the following day. This small number of stones was, of course, 
 due to the fact that the sloping rock itself afforded the major part of the 
 foundation. The second course, containing thirteen granite blocks, was laid 
 
THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 69 
 
 by the 30th; the third, containing- twenty-five blocks, by the lith of July; 
 the fourth, of thirty-three blocks, by the 31st. On the nth of August the sixth 
 course was completed, and the structure rose above high-watermark. The 
 blocks were ingeniously dovetailed together, so as to form, to all intents and 
 purposes, one uninterrupted ring of stone. 
 
 From this time Smeaton might regard his chief difficulties as surmounted, 
 and above the reach of 
 the waves the work went 
 on merrily. Unfortun- 
 ately it came near to be- 
 ing interrupted by an 
 accident to its engineer. 
 
 Smeaton had superin- 
 tended the laying of the 
 foundations with the 
 most tireless care ; and 
 now in a moment of 
 elation he could not de- 
 ny himself a stroll upon 
 the platform thus erected 
 above the waves. As 
 luck would have it, how- 
 ever, he made a false 
 step, falling over the 
 brink of the masonry on 
 to the sloping rocks of f 
 the western side. It 
 was low water at the 
 time, and having re- 
 ceived no serious injury 
 he was able to scramble 
 up again. He had dis- 
 located his thumb, how- 
 ever ; but this, as no 
 doctor was near, he reset himself, and quietly returned to his work as if nothing 
 had happened, 
 
 The year's work was finished on September 30th, with the laying of the 
 ninth course. 
 
 On the I2th of May, 1758, Smeaton and his workmen returned to the reef, 
 and to their great delight found that the storms of the winter had scarcely hurt 
 their work. The cement (made of the lime of Watchet, whence it had been 
 brought in cider- casks, since the proprietors would not allow it to be exported 
 in Its crude state) had become as hard as the stone itself, and the foundation 
 
 "HE MADE A FALSE STEP.' 
 
70 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE. 
 
 seemed unshakable. Rapid progress was made, and the twenty-fourth course 
 was laid by September, as it was all-important to be able to show a light during 
 the tempests of the coming winter. Preparations for setting up a temporary 
 lantern were almost completed, when on October loth the work was inter- 
 rupted by a quarrel between the Trinity House Corporation and the lessee of 
 the rock. This quarrel was not patched up until well into the following year, 
 when on July 5th the work was started again. On the 17th of August the 
 main column of the lighthouse was completed, consisting of forty-six courses, 
 and rising to a height of seventy feet On the last stone set above the lantern 
 the masons carved the two words LAVS DEO ("Praise be to God !"), the most 
 fitting superscription for a work so bravely and modestly done. Soon after the 
 iron balcony and the lantern itself were put in place, and on the i6th of 
 October once more the merciful light shone out above the Eddystone reef. 
 
 For more than century and a quarter it continued to shine from Smeaton's 
 tower. The designer himself had spoken, indeed, of a " possible perpetuity" 
 for his work. It has won its perpetuity, but not as the speaker expected 
 perhaps. 
 
 From 1870 onwards, reports from time to time reached the Brethren of the 
 Trinity House that certain tremors and oscillations had been noticed by the 
 light-keepers in Smeaton's tower. In consequence, steps were taken to 
 strengthen the whole upper portion of the building with iron ties ; the outer 
 joints, too, were repointed with Portland cement, some of the courses re-bolted, 
 and the projection of the cornice, which was found to catch the upward stroke of 
 the waves, reduced by five inches. 
 
 Still, however, the oscillations were felt from time to time, especially during 
 the sou'-westerly gales, and it became evident that the stability of the tower 
 was failing. Accordingly, in 1877, Admiral Sir Richard Collinson, the Deputy 
 Master, and some of the Elder Brethren of the Trinity House accompanied by 
 their engineer, Mr. James N. Douglas, made a searching inspection of the tower 
 and rock. 
 
 The inspections showed that the weakness lay, not in Smeaton's tower, but 
 in the rock itself, which was being slowly undermined by the waves. Indeed, a 
 large wedge had already been detached, which had thrown a severe strain upon 
 the rest of the foundation. The tower itself was strong enough to stand, 
 perhaps, for another century. 
 
 On realising the extent of the mischief, the Brethren decided that immediate 
 steps should be taken to build a new tower on another and more stable 
 foundation. The fate of Winstanley's tower had been terrible enough ; but 
 another such catastrophe would be infinitely more calamitous, as the number of 
 passing vessels had vastly increased. 
 
 Many careful surveys were made, and a base for the new lighthouse was at 
 length found on a rock some forty yards distant from the old tower, in a 
 
 
THE STORY OF THE EDDY STONE. 71 
 
 south-south-cast direction. There was but one drawback ; the top of the 
 selected rock was only just above the level of low water, and the foundations 
 had therefore to be laid below that level. The difficulty, however, could be 
 overcome, and the task of designing a worthy successor to Smeaton's light was 
 placed in the hands of Mr. J. N. Douglass, the engineer who had conducted 
 the first inspection. 
 
 Again the Brethren were most fortunate in the man of their choice. The 
 first landing on the rock was made on the 17th of July, 1878, and five others 
 before the month was out. The actual work on the rock commenced on July 23d. 
 The operations of the season were entirely successful, only a few small stones 
 being carried away by the sea, and were prolonged until December 21st, when 
 labour was suspended for the winter. 
 
 The most perilous time, of course, was that during which the men worked 
 below the low-water level. They could never spend more than three consecutive 
 hours upon the rock ; in other words, their stay was limited to the interval 
 betAveen three-quarters ebb and three-quarters flood. On the 19th of August, 
 1879, the foundation-stone was laid ; and the second season closed on 
 December 19th, with eight courses laid. 
 
 The winter was severe, and when on February 25th, 1880, the first visit for 
 the year was made, there was much apprehension lest the storms should have 
 wrought havoc with the work ; but it was found that, beyond the loss of the 
 iron jib of the landing-crane, no damage had been done. The building went 
 on briskly, and the tower rose above the level of high water. Henceforward, a 
 longer time could be spent upon the rock, and the result was that the season 
 closed with the laying of the thirty-eigth course. 
 
 On the first of June, 1882, H. R. H. the Duke of Edinburgh laid the top 
 stone of Douglass's tower. 
 
 The main idea of Smeaton's structure was preserved, but the improvements 
 upon it were numerous. Smeaton's tower contained but 988 tons of masonry. 
 The new tower held 4,668 tons. The stones were 2,171 in number, containing 
 63,020 cubic feet, — a mass in itself probably sufficient to withstand the tempest ; 
 but to make everything safe each stone is dovetailed above, below, and on all 
 sides, to the stones adjoining, and is in addition securely cemented. Smeaton's 
 tower contained four rooms in addition to the lantern ; in the new lighthouse 
 there are nine, each more commodious than any in the old building. The light 
 in the new tower can be seen at a distance of seventeen and a half miles, 
 exceeding by four and a half miles the distance at which the light in 
 Smeaton's tower was visible. 
 
 Four keepers are attached to the lighthouse, but three only are kept on duty 
 at a time. Each man has six weeks at the rock, followed by a fortnight ashore ; 
 and every fortnight, if the weather permits, the relief boat goes out to the 
 Eddystone, taking with her the man who has been keeping holiday, and 
 bringing back the man who has kept his six weeks of watch. 
 
72 
 
 THE STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE 
 
 The old building was taken carefully to pieces, and has since been re-erected 
 on Plymouth Hoe. There it may honorably realise that " possible perpetuity " 
 of which Smeaton dreamed. But the true perpetuity of that man's work will 
 be found in the tower which Douglass has erected — that is, in the outgrowth, 
 under worthy hands, of the magnificent type which he bequeathed. A future 
 generation may in turn build another tower ; but should the new Eddystone 
 Lighthouse fall short of perfection in the eyes of another age, the criticism will 
 yet allow that the progress has been on the road to perfection ; and meanwhile 
 the light on the Eddystone reef will shine unquenched and beneficent. 
 
 THE NEW EDDYSTONE I IGHTHOUSE, 
 
73 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 HE following narative, which treats of an adventure in one of the 
 wildest districts of Spain, we have the permission of Mr. Murray to 
 extract from " The Bible in Spain," by George Borrow : 
 
 In order to direct my course to the Asturias, I crossed the bay 
 from Coruna to Ferrol, whilst Antonio with our remaining horse followed by 
 land, a rather toilsome and circuitous journey, although the distance by water 
 is scarcely three leagues. At Ferrol I waited two or three days for the arrival 
 of Antonio, and still he came not ; late in the evening, however, as I was look- 
 ing down the street, I perceived him advancing, leading our only horse by the 
 bridle. He informed me that about three leagues from Coruna, the heat of the 
 weather and the flies had so distressed the animal that it had fallen down in a 
 kind of fit, from which it had been only relieved by copious bleeding, on which 
 account he had been compelled to halt for a day upon the road. The horse was 
 evidently in a very feeble state, and had a strange rattling in its throat, which 
 alarmed me at first. I however administered some remedies, and in a few days 
 deemed him sufficiently recovered to proceed. 
 
 We accordingly started from Ferrol, having first hired a pony for myself, 
 and a guide who was to attend us as far as Rivadeo, twenty leagues from 
 Ferrol, and on the confines of the Asturias, The day at first was fine ; but ere 
 we reached Novales, a distance of three leagues, the sky became overcast, and 
 a mist descended, accompanied by a drizzling rain. The country through which 
 we passed was very picturesque. At about two in the afternoon we could 
 descry through the mist the small fishing-town of Santa Marta on our left, 
 with its beautiful bay. Travelling along the summit of a line of hills, we 
 presently entered a chestnut forest, which appeared to be without limit. The 
 rain still descended, and kept up a ceaseless pattering among the broad 
 green leaves. 
 
 " This is the commencement of the autumnal rains," said the guide. " Many 
 is the wetting that you will get, my masters, before you reach Oviedo." 
 
 " Have you ever been as far as Oviedo .-• " I demanded, 
 
 " No, he replied, " and only once to Rivadeo, the place to which I am now 
 conducting you ; and I tell you frankly that we shall soon be in wildernesses 
 where the way is hard to find, especially at night, and amidst rain and waters. 
 I wish I were fairly back to Ferrol, for I like not this route, which is the 
 worst in Galicia, in more respects than one ; but where my pony's master goes, 
 there must I go too ; such is the life of us guides " 
 
 iw^^ew^fewms^ 
 
74 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders at this intelligence, which was by no means 
 cheering, but made no answer. At length, about nightfall, we emerged from 
 the forest, and presently descended into a deep valley at the foot of lofty hills. 
 
 " Where are we now ? " I demanded of the guide, as we crossed a rude 
 bridge at the bottom of the valley down which a rivulet, swollen by the rain, 
 foamed and roared. 
 
 " In the valley of Coisa Doiro," he replied ; "and it is my advice that we 
 stay here for the night, and do not venture among those hills, through which 
 lies the path to Viviero ; for as soon as we get there, adios ! I shall be 
 bewildered, which will prove the destruction of us all." 
 
 " Is there a village nigh ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the village is right before us, and we shall be there in a moment." 
 
 We soon reached the village, which stood amongst some tall trees at the 
 entrance of a pass which led up amongst the hills. Antonio dismounted, and 
 entered two or three of the cabins, but presently came to me saying — 
 
 " We cannot stay here, tnon maiire, without being devoured by vermin : 
 we had better be amongst the hills than this place ; there is neither fire 
 nor light in these cabins, and the rain is streaming through the roofs." 
 
 The guide, however, refused to proceed. " I could scarcely find my way 
 amongst these hills by daylight," he cried surlily, " much less at night, 'midst 
 storm and bretima'' We procured some wine and maize bread from one of the 
 cottages. Whilst we were partaking of these, Antonio said — 
 
 " Mon viaitrc, the best thing we can do in our present situation is to hire 
 some fellow of this village to conduct us through the hills to Viveiro. There 
 are no beds in this place, and if wc lie down in the litter in our damp clothes, 
 we shall catch a tertia of Galicia. Our present guide is of no service; we 
 must therefore find another to do his duty." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, he flung down the crust of broa which he 
 was munching, and disappeared. I subsequently learned that he went to the 
 cottage of the alcade, and demanded, in the Queen's name, a guide for the 
 Greek Ambassador, who was benighted on his way to the Asturias. In about 
 ten minutes I again saw him, attended by the local functionary, who, to my 
 surprise, made me a profound bow, and stood bareheaded in the rain. 
 
 " Mis excellency," shouted Antonia, " is in need of a guide to Viveiro. People 
 of our description are not compelled to pay for any service which they may 
 require ; however, as his excellency has bowels of compassion, he is willing to 
 give three pesetas to any competent person who will accompany him to Viveiro, 
 and as much bread and wine as he can eat and drink on his arrival." 
 
 " His excellency shall be served," said the alcade ; " however, as the way is 
 long and the path is bad, and there is much bretitna amongst the hills, it 
 appears to me that, besides the bread and wine, his excellency can do no less 
 than offer {owx pesetas to the guide who may be willing to accompany him to 
 Viveiro ; and I know no one better than my own son-iii-l.iw, Juanito." 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 75 
 
 " Content, Senor Alcalde," I replied ; " produce the guide, and the extra 
 peseta shall be forthcoming, in due season." 
 
 Soon apeared Juanito, with a lantern in his hand. We instantly set forward. 
 The guides began conversing in Gallegan. 
 
 '^ Moil inaitre," said Antonio, " this new scoundrel is asking the old one what 
 he thinks we have in our portmanteaus." Then, without awaiting my answer, 
 he shouted — " Pistols, ye 
 barbarians ! Pistols, as 
 
 you shall learn to your 
 cost, if you do not cease 
 speaking in that gibberish 
 and converse in Castilian." 
 
 The Gallegans were 
 silent, and presently the 
 first guide dropped behind, 
 whilst the other with the 
 lantern moved before. 
 
 "Keep in the rear," 
 said Antonia to the former, 
 " and at a distance : know 
 one thing, moreover, that 
 I can see behind as well as 
 before. Mo7i matt re,'' said 
 he to me, " I don't suppose 
 these fellows will attempt 
 to do us any harm, more 
 especially as they do not 
 know each other ; it is well 
 however, to separate them, 
 for this is a time and place 
 which might tempt any one 
 to commit robbery and 
 murder too," 
 
 The rain still continued to fall uninterruptedly, the path was rugged and 
 precipitous, and the night was so dark that we could only see indistinctly the 
 hills which surrounded us. Once or twice our guide seemed to have lost his 
 way ; he stopped, muttered to himself, raised his lantern on high, and would 
 then walk slowly and hesitatingly forward. In this manner we proceeded 
 ior three or four hours, when I asked the guide how far we were from 
 Viveiro. 
 
 " I do not know exactly where we are, your worship," he replied, " though I 
 believe we are in the route. We can scarcely, however, be less than two mad 
 leagues from Viveiro." 
 
 ON THE WAY. 
 
 'TTSTTTrrT^rrTr- 
 
76 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 *' Then we shall not arrive there before morning," interrupted Antonio, "for 
 a mad league of Galicia means at least two of Castile ; and perhaps we are 
 doomed never to arrive there, if the way thither leads down this precipice." 
 
 As he spoke, the guide seemed to descend into the bowels of the earth. 
 " Stop," said I ; " where are you going .'' " 
 
 "To Viveiro, Senor," replied the fellow ; "this is the way to Viveiro, there 
 is no other ; I now know where we are " 
 
 The light of the lantern shone upon the dark red features of the guide, who 
 had turned round to reply, as he stood some yards down the side of a dingle 
 or ravine overgrown with thick trees, beneath whose leafy branches a frightfully 
 steep path descended. I dismounted from the pony, and delivering the bridle 
 to the other guide, said — 
 
 " Here is your master's horse ; if you please you may lead him down that 
 abyss, but as for myself, I wash my hands of the matter." 
 
 The fellow, without a word of reply, vaulted into the saddle, and with a 
 " Vamos, Perico ! " to the pony, impelled the creature to the descent. " Come, 
 Senor," said he with the lantern, " there is no time to be lost, my light will be 
 presently extinguished, and this is the worst bit in the whole road." I thought 
 it very probable that he was about to lead us to some den of cut-throats, 
 where we might be sacrificed ; but, taking courage, I seized our own horse by 
 the bridle, and followed the fellow down the ravine amidst rocks and brambles. 
 The descent lasted nearly ten minutes, and ere we had entirely accomplished it, 
 the light in the lantern went out, and we remained in total darkness. 
 
 Encouraged, however, by the guide, who assured us there was no danger, we 
 at length reached the bottom of the ravine ; here we encountered a rill of 
 water, through which we were compelled to wade as high as the knee. In the 
 midst of the water I looked up and caught a glimpse of the heavens through 
 the branches of the trees, which all around clothed the shelving sides of the 
 ravine, and completely embowered the channel of the stream : to a place more 
 strange and replete with gloom and horror, no benighted traveller ever found 
 his way. After a short pause we commenced scaling the opposite bank, which 
 we did not find so steep as the other, and a few minutes' exertion brought us 
 to the top. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the rain abated, and the moon arising cast a dim light 
 through the watery mists ; the way had become less precipitous, and in about 
 two hours we descended to the shore of an extensive creek, along which we 
 proceeded till we reached a spot where many boats and barges lay with their 
 keels upward upon the sand. Presently we beheld before us the walls of Viveiro, 
 upon which the moon was shedding its sickly lustre. We entered by a 
 lofty and seemingly ruinous archway, and the guide conducted us at once 
 to the posada. 
 
 Every person in Viveiro appeared to be buried in profound slumber ; not 
 so much as a dog siluted us with his bark. After much knocking we 
 
AN ADVEN'iURE IN SPAIN. 77 
 
 were admitted into the posada, a large and dilapidated edifice. We had 
 scarcely housed ourselves and horses when the rain began to fall with much 
 thunder and lightning. Antonio and I, exhausted with fatigue, betook our- 
 selves to flock beds in a ruined chamber, into which the rain penetrated 
 through many a cranny, whilst the guides ate bread and drank wine till 
 the morning. 
 
 When I arose I was gladdened by the sight of a fine day. Antonio forth- 
 with prepared a savoury breakfast of stewed fowl, of which we stood in much 
 need after the ten-league journey of the preceding day. I walked out to view 
 the town, which consists of little more than one long street, on the side of a 
 steep mountain thickly clad with forest and fruit trees. At about ten we 
 continued our journey, accompanied by our first guide, the other having returned 
 to Coisa Doiro some hours previously. 
 
 Our route throughout this day was almost constantly within sight of the 
 Cantabrian Sea, whose windings we followed. The country was barren, and in 
 many parts covered with huge stones ; cultivated spots, however, were to be 
 seen, where vines were growing. We met with but few human habitations. 
 We, however, journeyed on cheerfully, for the sun was once more shining in full 
 brightness, gilding the wild moors, and shining upon the waters of the distant 
 sea, which lay in unruffled calmness 
 
 At evening-fall we were in the neighbourhood of the shore, with a range 
 of well-covered hills on our right. Our guide led us towards a creek bordered 
 by a marsh, but he soon stopped, and declared that he did not know whither 
 he was conducting us. 
 
 "J/(?;/ ;;/^//r^," said Antonio, " let us be our own guide; it is, as you see, 
 of no use to depend on this fellow, whose whole science consists in leading 
 people into quagmires " 
 
 We therefore turned aside, and proceeded along the marsh for a considerable 
 distance, till we reached a narrow path which led us into a thick wood, where 
 we soon became completely bewildered On a sudden, after wandering about a 
 considerable time, we heard the noise of water, and presently the clack of a 
 wheel. Following the sound, we arrived at a low stone mill, built over a brook ; 
 here we stopped and shouted, but no answer was returned. 
 
 " The place is deserted," said Antonio ; "here, however, is a path, which, if 
 we follow it, will doubtless lead us to some human habitation." 
 
 So we went along the path, which in about ten minutes brought us to the 
 door of a cabin, in which we saw light. Antonio dismounted and opened 
 the door. "Is there any one here who can conduct us to Rivadeo .'' " he 
 demanded. 
 
 " Senor," answered a voice, " Rivadeo is more than five leagues from here, 
 and, moreover, there is a river to cross." 
 
 "Then to the next village," said Antonio. 
 
 "I am a vecino of the next village, which is on the way to Rivadeo," said 
 
 ; Hkii - ^ W- ■ • ijK"' 'V. liViii.i '■ J fjt^ 
 
78 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 another voice, " and I will lead you thither, if you will give me fair words and, 
 what is better, fair money." 
 
 A man now came forth, holding in his hand a large stick. He strode 
 sturdily before us, and in less than half an hour led us out of the wood In 
 another half-hour he brought us to a group of cabins situated near the sea : 
 he pointed to one of these, and having received a peseta, bade us farewell. 
 
 CROSSINO THE F07,. 
 
 The people of the cottage willingly consented to receive ns for the night ; 
 it was much more cleanly and commodious than the wretched huts of the 
 Gallegan peasantry in general. The ground floor consisted of a keeping-room 
 and stable, whilst above was a long loft, in which were some neat and comfort- 
 able flock beds. I observed several masts and sails ol boats. The family 
 consisted of two brothers, with their wives and families ; one was a fisherman, 
 but the other, who appeared to be the principal person, informed me that he 
 had resided for many years in service ^t Madrid, and, having amassed a small 
 sum, he had at length returned to his native village, where he had purchased 
 some land which he farmed. All the family used the Castilian language in 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 79 
 
 their common discourse, and on inquiry I learned that the Gallegan was not 
 much spoken in that neighbourhood. I have forgotton the name of this village, 
 which is situated on the estuary of the Foz, which rolls down from Mondonedo. 
 In the morning we crossed this estuary in a large boat, with our horses, and 
 about noon arrived at Rivadeo. 
 
 "Now, your worship," said the guide who had accompanied us from Ferrol, 
 '•I have brought you as far as I bargained, and a hard journey it has been ; I 
 therefore hope you will suffer Perico and myself to remain here to-night at 
 your expense, and to-morrow we will go back ; at present we are both sorely 
 tired." 
 
 "I never mounted a better pony than Perico," said I, "and never met with 
 a worse guide than }-ourself. You appear to be perfectly ignorant of the coun- 
 try, and have done nothing but bring us into difficulties. You may, however, 
 stay here for the night, as you say you are tired, and to-morrow you may 
 return to Ferrol, where I counsel you to adopt some other trade " This was 
 said at the door of the posada of Rivadeo. 
 
 " Shall I lead the horses to a stable ?" said the fellow. 
 
 " As you please," said I. 
 
 Antonio looked after him for a moment, as he was leading the animals 
 away, and then, shaking his head, followed slowly after. In about a quarter 
 of an hour he returned, laden with the furniture of our horse, and with a smile 
 upon his countenance. 
 
 ''A/on maitrc,'' said he, "I have throughout the journey had a bad opinion 
 of this fellow, and now I have detected him ; his motive in requesting per- 
 mission to stay was to purloin something from us. He was very officious in 
 the stable about our horse, and I now miss the new leathern girth which secured 
 the saddle, and which I observed him looking at frequently on the road. He 
 has by this time doubtless hid it somewhere ; we are quite secure of him, 
 however, for he has not yet received the hire for the pony nor the gratuity for 
 himself." 
 
 The guide returned just as he concluded speaking. Dishonesty is always 
 suspicious. The fellow cast a glance upon us, and probably beholding in our 
 countenances something which he did not like, he suddenly said, " Give me 
 the horse and my own propi no for Perico, and I wish to be off instantly." 
 
 "How is this.?" said I; "I thought you and Perico were both fatigued, 
 and wished to rest here for the night. You have soon recovered from your 
 weariness " 
 
 " I have thought over the matter," said the fellow, "and my master will be 
 angry if I loiter here ; pay us, therefore, and let us go." 
 
 " Certainly," said I, " if you wish it. Is the horse-furniture all right .'" 
 
 " Quite so," said he ; " I delivered it all to your servant." 
 
 " It is all here," said Antonio, "with the exception of the leathern girth." 
 
 " I have not got it," said the guide. 
 
8o AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 
 
 " Of course not," said I ; "let us proceed to the stable ; we shall perhaps find 
 it there." 
 
 To the stable we went, which we searched through ; no girth, however, was 
 forthcoming. " He has got it buckled round his middle beneath his pantaloons, 
 vion inaitre" said Antonio, whose eyes were moving about like those of a lynx ; 
 " I saw the protuberance as he stooped down. However, let us take no notice: 
 he is here surrounded by his countrymen, who, if we were to seize him, might 
 perhaps take his part. As I said before, he is in our power, as we have not 
 paid him." 
 
 The fellow now began to talk in Gallegan to the bystanders (several persons 
 having collected), wishing the Denho to take him if he knew anything of the 
 missing property. Nobody, however, seemed inclined to take his part ; and 
 those who listened only shrugged their shoulders. We returned to the portal of 
 the Posada, the fellow following us, clamoring for the horse-hire and t\\Q piopina. 
 We made him no answer, and at length he went away, threatening to apply to 
 thejusticia ; in about ten minutes, however, he came running back with the 
 girth in his hand. 
 
 " I have just found it," said he, " in the street : )Our servant dropped it " 
 
 I took the leather and proceeded very deliberately to count out the sum to 
 which the horse-hire amounted, and having delivered it to him in the presence 
 of witnesses, I said, " During the whole journey you have been of no service 
 to us whatever ; nevertheless you have fared like ourselves, and have had all 
 you could desire to eat and drink. I intended, on leaving us, to present you, 
 moreover, with a propina of two dollars ; but since, notwithstanding our kind 
 treatment, you endeavoured to pillage us, I will not give you a cuarto ; go, 
 therefore, about your business." 
 
 All the audience expressed their satisfaction at this sentence, and told him 
 that he had been rightly served, and that he was a disgrace to Galicia. Two 
 or three women crossed themselves, and asked him if he was not afraid that 
 the Denho, whom he had invoked, would take him away. At last a respectable- 
 looking man said to him, " Are you not ashamed to have attempted to rob 
 two innocent strangers .? " 
 
 " Strangers ! " roared the fellow, who was by this time foaming with rage ; 
 "innocent strangers ! Carracho ! they know more of Spain and Galicia too than 
 the whole of us. Oh, Denho ! that servant is no man but a wizard, a mnniro 
 Where is Perico } " 
 
 He mounted Perico, and proceeded forthwith to another posada. The tale 
 however, of his dishonesty had gone before him, and no person would house 
 him ; whereupon he returned on his steps, and seeing me looking out of the 
 window of the house, he gave a savage shout, and shaking his fist at me^ 
 galloped out of the town ; the people pursuing him with hootings and revilings. 
 
"HE WAS PEERING FORWARD." 
 
 MISTAKEN. 
 
 I — A MISTAKEN VENGEANCE. Jamaica, 1830 
 
 T was a warm evening in Jamaica. The low windows of the planter's 
 house were thrown open to admit what small amount of fresh 
 breeze might be straying in the air. Through these shafts of 
 light were flung across the broad verandah ; and through them also 
 came the noise of many voices talking together, the clink of glasses, and every 
 now and again the fragments of some uproarious chorus. It was evident that, 
 within, Mr. Scott, the owner of the house, was making merry with his friends. 
 
 Outside on the verandah, it was dark enough between the patches of light ; 
 and in this darkness, by the shadow of one of the pillars, crouched the figure 
 of a man — of a negro. 
 
 He had dropped on hands and knees, and was peering forward to catch a 
 glimpse of the room inside, though obviously careful not to thrust his head 
 too far into the light. From his position he could hear every word that was 
 spoken inside the room ; and indeed, as the sounds of merriment floated out 
 on the windless night, it was plain that the drinkers had little care whether 
 they were heard or not. He could see also the flushed faces of one or two 
 
 m 
 
82 MISTAKEN. 
 
 and the backs of others as they leant forward and went through the ceremony 
 of taking wine together. 
 
 Suddenly at the end of the table the voices grew louder yet, and the kneeling 
 figure could see a redfaced gentleman pause in the act of singing a bacchanalian 
 stave and drop his jaw to listen. The hidden witness bent further forward and 
 strained his ears. 
 
 " You did, sir!" 
 
 " I deny it." 
 
 *' I say, sir, that I heard you with my own ears ! " 
 
 " And I say, sir, that you lie ! " 
 
 There was the sound of a falling chair, a volley of oaths, a crash of glass, 
 and the company leapt to their feet and sprang forward to part the combatants. 
 The man on the verandah lost his caution now and stepped almost up to the 
 window. He saw, held apart by their friends, the host of the evening, Mr. 
 Scott, and his friend, Mr. Wilson. The forehead of the former had a nasty 
 cut beside the left temple, and from this wound the blood was running down 
 his face and mingling with the wine that Wilson had discharged, glass and all 
 in his face. 
 
 The two men could with difficulty be held apart. They were both flown 
 with wine, and a trifle thick of speech ; but the last half-minute had sobered 
 them a little. As soon as the din of expostulation and entreaty had somewhat 
 subsided, Scott wiped his face in his handkerchief, and said — 
 
 " You shall give me satisfaction for this." 
 
 " Whenever you please." 
 
 "This night, then." 
 
 " This moment, if you will." 
 
 " Stop, stop, gentlemen ! " interposed the most sober of the guests. " If you 
 must fight over a trifling quarrel, at least let the matter be conducted decentl}- 
 and in order. To-morrow you may both come to your senses and be heartily 
 ashamed of this " 
 
 " Do you hint that I am drunk, sir ?*' interrupted Wilson savagely. 
 
 " No, no ; but surely you can wait to conduct an affair like this is an ordinary 
 manner. To morrow at least your heads will be cooler " 
 
 "Cooler.?" 
 
 " Yes, for taking aim. To rush off and fly at each other at once, like two 
 fighting niggers, is unheard of. Let me suggest, too, that these arrangements 
 are best left to friends, and should not be settled by principals." 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said Scott ; " I have no objection to putting this in the hands 
 of seconds. I insist only that the matter shall be settled this night." 
 
 " And I also insist on this," added Wilson ; " the moon is already risen. In 
 half an hour there will be plenty of light by which to despatch the business." 
 
 " Will you act for me, Mr. Chambers ? " said Scott, addressing the sober man 
 »vho had been interceding on behalf of order. 
 
mSTAKEN. 83 
 
 Mr. Chambers bowed, and Wilson asked a similar favour of a Mr. Rayner, 
 and the two seconds arranged the preliminaries on the spot. Muskets were 
 fixed upon as the weapons, and a lawn at the back of the house as the place 
 of meeting. The combatants would have to fire by the light of the moon ; but 
 with men who have had no great practice, a musket in a dim light is more 
 deadly than a pistol at noonday. So far the arrangements had been made, when 
 Chambers said to Rayner— 
 
 " This public manner of settling preliminaries is a trifle vulgar, is it not .'' 
 Would you mind stepping out on the verandah with me, where we can be alone 
 together ? " 
 
 " Upon my word," laughed Wilson, " we are becoming mighty ceremonious. 
 It seems to me that when two men wish to kill each other, you take a deal of 
 trouble to let them do it." 
 
 Nevertheless, the two seconds stepped out of the open window on to the 
 verandah. As they did so. Chambers caught the other by the arm — 
 
 " Hulloa ! What's the matter ? " 
 
 " I thought 1 saw some one disappear in the shadow there, by the corner of 
 the house " 
 
 "Some servant, perhaps, attracted by the noise of the quarrel inside. I don't 
 wonder at it. There was row enough made to be heard a mile off" 
 
 " Great nonsense ! " 
 
 " Great nonsense, as you say. To-morrow morning, if they would be content 
 to sleep upon it as you suggested, they would be heartily ashamed of them- 
 selves. Such good friends, too as Scott and Wilson ! What was it all about .'' 
 I'll be hanged if I know." 
 
 "I'll be hanged if I know, either. Upon my word, what with the noise and 
 the chattering, I really forgot to ask ; less than a trifle, I dare say." 
 
 " It could not be more. They were excellent friends all the evening, until 
 the wine got in them. But it's too late now ; I suppose we must let the two 
 fools try to kill each other." 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " I hope to heaven they do each other no mischief The worst of it is, this 
 quarrel has sobered them ; they are getting cooler every minute." 
 
 " Why not prevent it ? " 
 
 " Prevent it ! What do you mean ? You agreed a moment since that the 
 quarrel had gone too far, and now you say " 
 
 " And now I say what I called you out to tell you. It is clear — you agree 
 with me — that to let one of these men kill the other would be a sin. Then why 
 not load the muskets with a blank charge ? " 
 
 "We should be detected." 
 
 " Two-thirds of the company are drunk. The men themselves are drun.^ 
 Who is to wonder if they fail to kill each other ? And even if the tricV were 
 discovered later, to-morrow we should have the two fools round to thank us 
 
84 MISTAKEN. 
 
 " I have a mind to do as you say." 
 
 "That's right. We shall have the loading of the guns ; and this night I 
 hope to go to sleep with a quiet conscience." 
 
 The matter was arranged. Twenty minutes later, on the lawn encircled with 
 shrubs behind the planter's house, the company had gathered to see the two 
 angry men wipe out their difference. On the open lawn, where the principals 
 stood, the moon shone brightly enough. The shrubbery around was dark, and 
 the figures of the spectators could scarcely be discerned against the black 
 foliage. The ground was measured out, the muskets loaded, and now the two 
 stood facing each other, with the moonlight shining vividly along the barrels 
 of their weapons. The seconds stood aside, and Mr. Chambers gave the word — 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 Out upon the night rang the explosion. Almost before the flash had come 
 and gone, one of the figures staggered a step — two steps — forward, flung up 
 his hands as he dropped his musket, and with a piercing cry fell npon his 
 face. It was Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Admirable acting, upon my soul ! " muttered Chambers to himself, as he 
 strolled up to the group around the fallen man. 
 
 " He has fainted," he said quietly. 
 
 " Fainted ! Good heavens, man, what are you talking about .'' He is dead !'' 
 
 It was true. The unfortunate man, as the}' tried to lift him up, fell back limp 
 and lifeless in their arms. At Ihis moment Mr. Scott came up He was ghastly 
 white, and thoroughly sober now. 
 
 " I have not killed him ? Tell mc — some one — that I have not killed him. 
 For God's sake lift him up and let him tell me that he is not dead !" 
 
 " He will never speak again," said one. 
 
 " That is absurd," interrupted Chambers : " he is faint, I tell you," 
 
 "Faint.?" 
 
 " Yes, I will tell you why. Rayner and I loaded the muskets. We put in no 
 bullets, only powder. He cannot be killed." 
 
 " See here," said a man who was bending over the body ; " look at this. 
 Here is blood — the man is dead. Merciful heavens ! " he cried, turning the 
 body over, "it is in the back. He is shot in the back ! " 
 
 "In the back ?" 
 
 "Some other hand than Scott's fired this shot," screamed Chambers, leaping 
 to his feet. " Scott couldn't have shot him in the back — it's impossible : and 
 his gun was loaded with blank charge, I tell you. Search the bushes, every- 
 body ! " 
 
 They did not need this exhortation. One and all, they were completely 
 sober now, and into the bushes they rushed to clear up this mystery. Hardly 
 had they taken a step when they heard a rustling in the thicket ahead of 
 them, and Rayner, who was first, caught sight of a figure stealthily creeping 
 away in the shadow. 
 
MISTAKEN. 
 
 8S 
 
 " There ho is ! There's the murderer ! Catch him, all of you ! " 
 
 The man, finding himself detected, stopped, and straightening himself up, 
 
 came towards them. He was a negro. 
 
 " Yes, I did it," he said, and pointed to a 
 
 carbine which he still grasped in his hand 
 
 They fell upon him, seized him, and dragged 
 
 him forward into the moonlight beside the 
 
 body of the murdered man. He made no 
 
 resistance, but, as he stepped out on the 
 
 lawn, turned his face upon the man who held 
 
 him by the right shoulder. It was Scott. 
 
 " You ' " The 
 ftllow's jaw had 
 dropped, and 
 his face was 
 ashen — ''You ! " 
 h e repeated ; 
 " I thought it 
 was you — that 
 
 I Who is 
 
 it ^ " he cried — 
 " Who is it that 
 I killed?" 
 They stood 
 a r c u n d him 
 now in a cir- 
 cle, as he bent and examined his victim. Presently he lifted up his face and 
 turned to Scott. 
 
 " I thought it was jw^" he said ; " I meant it to be you. Look here : you've 
 caught me, and I shall be hanged for this ; but you may as well hear my tale. 
 
 " 'THERE HE IS. 
 
86 M. FESTEAUE BLUNDER. 
 
 I thought you — Scott, there — were the man I covered when I pulled the trigger.'* 
 
 "The fellow is mad," said Scott. "Why, in heaven's name, man, what harm 
 have I ever done to you ? I never saw your face before in my life." 
 
 " Likely not. But I've seen yours. Do you remember, last week, riding 
 into Kingston ? " 
 
 " Certainly. It was last Tuesday." 
 
 "Right : it was last Tuesday. On your way you passed a gibbet, on w^hich 
 a coloured man was hanging. Do you remember what you did as you passed 
 that gibbet .'' You have forgotten, I dare say ; but 1 remember, for I was on the 
 other side of the hedge and watched you. You rode up to the gibbet — curse 
 you, and all your kind ! — and what did you do .-• You white men must be 
 playful with men of colour, even after they are dead and hanged. You grinned, 
 you did, and stuck a pipe in the dead man's mouth for sport, and rode away 
 grinning at your joke. It was a pretty joke, was it not ? — and a safe one, no 
 doubt. ' Niggers' — and dead ' niggers ' too — are a quiet lot. Here is your pipe 
 — do you see ? I was that dead man's brother ; and I was watching his body 
 to see that it took no harm, for I know you and your kind — curse you ! — will 
 have your little jokes. And I loved my brother — which seems a strange thing 
 in a ' nigger' you think ; and this night I meant to shoot you. I was listening in 
 the verandah to-night. I heard quarreling ; I heard \\ here you were going to 
 fight ; I ran home and loaded my carbine and came back in time But the 
 darkness played me a trick. I have shot the wrong man ; and now )ou may 
 hang me. But I tell you the only thing I am sorry for is that I did not shoot 
 you as well ! " 
 
 II.— THE BLUNDER OF M. FESTEAU. Paris, 1700. 
 
 One gusty autumn night, towards the middle of the last century, in a little 
 monastery in the Upper Gevaudan, a monk lay dying. 
 
 The wind shrieked and whistled in the pines outside the narrow window ; 
 but witiiin the little cell itself the silence was broken only by the laboured 
 breathing of the sick man For the monastery was a home of silence, and 
 even the brown-robed Father Martin, who had administered the last sacrament 
 and was now kneeling at the bedside in prayer, had not spoken a word for the 
 last quarter of an hour. He was a very old man. this Father Martin, and had 
 much ado, from rheumatism, to get down on his knees, or having got down to 
 get up. Presently the dying brother opened his eyes, somewhat wearily, as if 
 this dying were but a tedious affair, and spoke — 
 
 " Father Martin." 
 
 " My son." 
 
 The sick monk was near seventy years of age, but the elder called him by 
 this title, as he had done for more years than he could well count. 
 
 " Do you remember the day I came to this place — almost fifty years ago ? "' 
 
M. FESTEAU'S BLUNDER. 87 
 
 " I remember it well. It was a spring morning, and I had been out about 
 the garden ; I was hurrying in to sing my office when I saw you at the gate : 
 a young man, bent and footsore, but with every gift upon you to enjoy in the 
 outer world. I remember that we young brothers speculated on your story, but 
 you never told it." 
 
 " Not even in confession did I ever tell it all. And yet it is simple enough : 
 listen." 
 
 " My son, it will exhaust your strength." 
 
 "I am dying surely enough, and that will make little difference. One may 
 be wearied even by silence — if that silence last lor fifty years. Listen again." 
 
 The monk's tone was low and laboured at first — so low that Father Martin 
 had to strain his ears to catch the whisper that was almost drowned by the wind 
 in the pines outside. And the dying man's story was this : — 
 
 " I was a surgeon, once, in Paris. To a certain extent I was famous in my 
 profession ; for, though young, I was looked upon as a clever and rising man. 
 One day I was called in to attend a young lady of noble family, a Mademoiselle 
 Villacerfe, who had sprained her ankle in a fall from her horse That young 
 lady — how shall I describe her ? " 
 
 " Do not describe her," advised Father Martin, who, for all his sixty years in 
 the cloister, foresaw what was coming. 
 
 " She was an angel on earth, my father ; she is now an angel in heaven " 
 
 " Poor thing !" sighed the elder, with more relevency to his own sympathy 
 than to the actual words. 
 
 " You will remember, my father, that she was of noble birth, and I was but 
 a surgeon. And though, by the time that I paid my third visit, I was 
 passionately in love, I remembered this as well, and recognised that my case was 
 hopeless. Nevertheless, I continued to love her ; perhaps, after a lifetime spent 
 in this place, such words as these may seem hard to believe." 
 
 " I assure you, no," said the other. 
 
 " Worse than all, I suspected — indeed, after awhile I knew — that my love 
 was returned ; by what small signs I learnt this I cannot tell you. I only know 
 that I was convinced of it. But she knew as well as I the barrier that lay be- 
 tween her blood and mine ; and so we never spoke a word of what was nearest 
 our hearts. She was young, and doubtless her relatives planned for her in time 
 an honourable match. At the end of a fortnight she was cured, and after that 
 I only saw her at rare intervals, when she passed me in the streets — never to 
 speak to — not once. 
 
 " Two years passed in this way, and I noticed with a selfish joy that she 
 was still unmarried. Perhaps her relatives were yet hesitating about the most 
 suitable match ; perhaps, as I perferred to believe, there was some difficulty on 
 her part. When I saw her in passing, there was not a sign to show that she 
 more than barely remembered my once having been of service to her. And yet, 
 somehow, in my heart I was sure that she loved me. It was a vain thing to 
 
88 M FESTEAU'S BLUNDER. 
 
 pride myself upon, but I did so, nevertheless. Two years passed, as I have 
 said, and she was still Mademoiselle Villacerfe, when by a slight indisposition 
 she was forced to keep to her room. The iamily physician saw her, and advised 
 that she should be bled ; and I was the surgeon sent for to perform that duty. 
 
 "What my feelings were when I received the message I will not attempt to 
 paint. At first, so frightened was I, so insecure of myself, that I had a mind 
 to decline to attend, and to send another in my place. Would to heaven that 
 I had ! But at length I summoned up courage to go. 
 
 " That my face as I entered the room betrayed the tumult in my soul, I can- 
 not disbelieve. She did not seem to notice it, however, but bade me welcome 
 in a cheerful voice. It was the voice of an angel, my father ! I took her hand, 
 and as I felt her pulse my own hand trembled violently ; I hardly dared to ask 
 the few ordinary questions put by a doctor ; I could not trust myself to speak. 
 I think she must have known this, for when my hand trembled she seemed to 
 notice nothing, but continued to talk quite cheerfully to put me at my ease. 
 
 " Her illness had made her more charming than ever : it softened her 
 features and gave her that expression of weakness, of reliance on another, which 
 men do not dislike in a woman Have you noticed this, my father?" 
 
 " Possibly. But continue, my son." 
 
 " I prepared for the operation by turning back that part of the loose dress 
 that covered her arm. As I pressed the vein to render it more prominent, 
 her attendant, who stood beside me and had been observing my face, re- 
 marked — 
 
 " ' Surely M. Festeau is unwell to-day. Had not Mademoiselle better defer 
 the operation, seeing that he appears out of sorts .-' * 
 
 " Her mistress took no notice of this except to answer — 
 
 "' I confide myself entirely to M Festeau, who is and has been my very 
 good friend, and who I am sure would never do me an injury.' 
 
 " What I stammered in answer I do not know. It seemed to me that some 
 hidden meaning lay beneath her words. My hand shook sadly. And then — I 
 can hardly speak, even now, of what happened then." 
 
 " Go on, my son." 
 
 " My father, the next thing I remember was that I saw the red blood spurting 
 and knew what I had done. I started back crying — 
 
 " ' I am of all men the most unfortunate ! I have opened an artery instead 
 of a vein ! ' 
 
 " I strove with all my knowledge to remedy the evil that I had done. And 
 if I cannot describe to you my distraction, I can still less describe her composure. 
 It was wonderful — wonderful. In three days the state of her arm had grown so 
 serious that I, as well as the other surgeons, saw that we must amputate it. 
 She never reproached me once. Had she done so, I might, perhaps, have 
 borne it better. She never spoke one peevish word, but even tenderly desired 
 that I should not be absent from any consultation on the treatment of her case ; 
 
M. FESTEAU'S BLUNDER. 
 
 89 
 
 and what is more, she cowed the bitter words and black looks of her friends in 
 my presence. 
 
 " Her arm was amputated. Alas ! It was no good. In less than twenty- 
 four hours appeared symptoms which I knew, fatally enough, numbered her 
 hours on earth. She read her doom in our faces, and entreated us to tell her 
 the truth. Our anguish was a sure answer. She caused her will to be made 
 and prepared quite fearlessly for death. 
 
 ^- ... '-<-^ " \ 
 
 "FATHER MARTIN 
 
 WAITED FOR THE NEXT WORD 
 
 " A few hours before she died, she sent to say that she wished to see me. 
 No criminal stepping to the scaffold can suffer as I suffered then. I stood before 
 her bed. She was sinking fast, but had still strength enough to pronounce 
 these words, every one of which has remained in my heart to this hour : — 
 
 " 'My friend, I cannot express my concern for the sorrow with which I see 
 you overwhelmed, although you tried to hide it from me. I am leaving this 
 life ; to all intents I have already left it ; and so what should I do but think 
 and act as one who has no further concern with it ,'' At this moment, trust me. 
 
9«> 
 
 THE CORNISH VOTER. 
 
 I feel no anger, no resentment. I do not look on you as one by whose mistake 
 I have lost my life ; rather have you hastened my knowledge of a glorious 
 immortality. But the world may look upon the accident, which for your sake 
 alone I call unfortunate, and mention it to your disadvantage. And so I have 
 provided in my will against anything you may have to dread from prejudice 
 and misrepresentation,' 
 
 "These were her words, my father ; but her look, how shall I describe it? 
 Can you wonder now at the fifty years I have passed in this place ? That she 
 should have died by the hand of that poor wretch who, of all others, loved her 
 the most — and whom she loved, my father ! For as I am sure of forgiveness 
 I know " 
 
 Father Martin, kneeling by the bedside, waited for the next word. When, 
 after a second or two, none came, he looked up, and rising to his feet, covered 
 the dead brother's face. 
 
 III.— THE CORNISH VOTER. 
 
 During one memorable election, long before the first Reform Bill was passed, 
 the borough of Grampound, in Cornwall, was in a ferment. This magnificent 
 constituency numbered thirteen voters, all told ; and as the result of a public- 
 house quarrel, it was extremely doubtful whether the Ministerial or the Opposi- 
 tion candidate would be elected. In fact, as the time drew near, it began to be 
 evident that the voice of one John Pascoe would form quite an appreciable 
 fraction in what Mr. Carlyle calls the "national palaver." For, the side issue of 
 a decayed right of pasturage having been started by some astute Whig in 
 competition with the affairs of the nation at large, constituents ranged them- 
 selves on either side, and John, who simply couldn't understand the pasturage 
 question, though it had been explained to him a dozen times at great length 
 by each of the dozen voters, found himself at the end of it in the possession of 
 no convictions and an enviable casting-vote. 
 
 John — or Jan, as he preferred to be called (for like most great men he was 
 modest) — was not puffed up unduly with this proud possession. Indirectly he 
 found it of the greatest use as a passport to free beer. He drank every day 
 at the expense of each voter and both the candidates with frank impartiality, 
 and listened to their arguments, with attention, merely drawing his sleeve across 
 his mouth when the pint mug was drained ; or (if the speaker were too deeply 
 occupied with his logic) turning it upside-down and drumming with it ab- 
 stractedly on the table. Nay, more, whereas the twelve fellow-constituents 
 could not feast him together, as well from the dangers of an overheated discus- 
 sion as from a local prejudice against sitting down thirteen at table, the two 
 opposing factions feasted him on alternate days and carried him home on alter- 
 nate nights. In short, not a day passed without Jan's being the nucleus of a 
 political demonstration. 
 
THE CORNISH VOTER. 91 
 
 On the whole he liked the life, and said so with pleasing frankness. 
 Naturally, however, his enjoyment of the passing hour was tempered with some 
 consideration that all things have an end. The day was drawing near when 
 he would have to decide on the gentleman to represent him in Parliament ; 
 and meanwhile, if the truth must be told, when he seemed to be listening to his 
 advisers, he was really considering with which party he could make the most 
 advantageous terms. 
 
 Some days before the election, the Ministerial candidate had an inspiration. 
 He wrote a letter and sent it to Lord Newcastle. 
 
 This nobleman and minister, besides being '* eaten up with zeal for the House 
 of Hanover," was remarkable among his contemporaries for his reckless profusion 
 in promises. It is said that he particularly prided himself on being able to 
 read with the naked eye the wants of the various persons who attended his 
 levees, before they had time to utter a syllable. The duke read his candidate's 
 letter ; considered ; found that it was necessary to hold the borough of Gram- 
 pound ; cursed ; packed up his things, and determined to interview John Pascoe 
 in person. 
 
 He did so. For one whole day John Pascoe hob-nobbed with a duke, and 
 before evening emptied more pint pots than next day he could well count. He 
 was reminded, however, to go to the poll ; and within a few hours it was known 
 that the Ministerial cause had won a zealot and the Grampound election 
 
 The duke left early next morning, but not before he had seen John again ; 
 poured forth acknowledgments and promises ; called him his dearest (and, 
 perhaps, his oldest) friend ; swore that he would consider himself for ever in 
 his friend's debt ; that he would serve him by night and day ; and wanted to 
 know if John could suggest a wish that needed fulfilment. 
 
 John suggested more beer. 
 
 It was brought, and the duke pressed him to name a further desire. 
 
 John would have liked a permanant casting-vote : but this seemed im- 
 practicable. So he scratched his head, thanked the duke for his kindness, and 
 said that he would like William his son-in-law to have the post of Super- 
 visor of Excise in those parts, if his Grace would say a good word to the 
 Commissioner. . 
 
 " Certainly. Do I understand the post is vacant } " 
 
 John admitted that it was " not azackly vacant." But the present supervisor 
 was old and infirm, and not likely to live much longer. 
 
 " Then you wish the reversion .-' " 
 
 John intimated that he wanted " nowt o' the sort, but just the super- 
 visorship." 
 
 " Ah, that is what I mean. My dear friend, why ask for such a trifling em- 
 ployment } Your relative shall have it the moment it is vacant." 
 
 John admitted that this would make him the friend of the Government for 
 life, but doubted astutely. 
 
9r THE CORNISH VOTER. 
 
 " How be I to make sure ? For I reckons in Lunnon 'tes another matter \vi' 
 you great folks. Down here 'tes glasses all round an' hail fellow — well met ; 
 but up there ef a cat wants to look at a king she must have her eyes about." 
 
 " The very instant the man dies," said the prime Minister, " you must set 
 out post-haste for London ; drive straight to my house, by night or by day, 
 sleeping or waking, dead or alive — pound at my door : I will leave word with 
 my porter to show you upstairs at once, and the post shall be disposed of as 
 you wish — I promise you," 
 
 The duke drove away, never thinking to see John Pascoe again — at least 
 not until the next contested election. But John, possibly from having less to 
 think about, was more mindful, A few months afterwards the supervisor died, 
 and the Cornish voter, relying on his Grace's word, promptly started for London 
 by the mail ; and arriving late at night at the metropolis, drove straight to the 
 duke's house, and ascending the steps, knocked loudly at the door. 
 
 Now it so happened that on this particular night the Duke of Newcastle 
 had been sitting up, anxiously expecting despatches from Madrid. For at the 
 very time when Grampound was lamenting its late Supervisor of Excise, Europe 
 was hourly expecting the death of the King of Spain ; and it was of the 
 utmost importance that the British minister should hear the intelligence as 
 soon as possible after his Majesty's decease. Shortly after midnight, however, 
 the duke grew very sleepy and finally retired to bed, leaving strict orders with 
 his porter to sit up, as he was hourly expecting a messenger of the greatest 
 importance. "When he comes," said the duke, "show him up to my room at 
 once : do you hear ? — at once." 
 
 The duke went off to bed ; the porter settled himself comfortably in his 
 chair. The duke was already asleep and dreaming, the porter nodding drowsily, 
 when a stout ash stick rattled at the front door, and continued vigor- 
 ously until the porter threw back the bolts. On the threshold stood John 
 Tascoe. 
 
 " Es the Dook o' Newcas'le inside .-'" 
 
 " Yes," answered the porter, *' and in bed ; but he left special orders that 
 whenever you came you should go up to him directly." 
 
 " God bless 'un for a proper gen'l'm'n ! " John Pascoe nodded at the porter 
 triumphantly. " Never tell me that great folks don't keep their word ! " 
 
 The porter led the way, and John followed, soliloquising — 
 
 "' Any time, night or day, asleep or awake, dead or alive' — that's business ! 
 Bless 'un for a true friend, I say. But I knawcd he wadn' desayve me, Et goes 
 to my heart to wake 'un, too ; for precious little sleep he gets, I warrant." 
 
 His Grace's door was opened and John was ushered in. 
 
 "Hullo !" cried the duke, starting up, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awake 
 from dreaming of the King of Spain, " Hullo ! Is he dead ? '' 
 
 *• Iss, my lord : dead as nails," said John ; and thought to himself, " Why I do 
 believe he's been a-dreamin' of me. He knawed me to once"" 
 
" THE PrKE TORE ASIDE THE CURTAIN.' (p. 94-) 
 
94 THE CORNISH VOTER. 
 
 "When did he die?" 
 
 " Day afore yestiddy, at ha'f arter two azackly by the town clock." 
 
 " The day before yesterday ! You have come all that way since the day 
 before yesterday ? " cried the minister, wondering at the possibility of hearing 
 news from Madrid in so short a space of time. 
 
 John smiled, and opined that " It were smartish work." 
 
 "How did he die?" 
 
 " Powerful hard, my lord ; powerful hard. You see, three weeks agone come 
 Michelmas Day he tuk to hes bed, and they kept 'un goin' 'pon milk an' a 
 power o' doctor's stuff, an' stuck a blister roun' by the back o' his ear ; but 
 'twarn't no use, an' he's a-gone, an' I hopes you'll let my son-in-law William 
 succeed him, 'cos he's a steady young man, es William, an' 
 
 " Succeed him ! Succeed the King of Spain ? Are you drunk, or mad, or 
 am I dreaming ? Where are the despatches ?" 
 
 The duke leapt up in bed, tore aside a curtain to see more clearly, and 
 instead of the courier he expected, beheld John Pascoe, bowing and scraping, 
 hat in hand, and smiling away with the extremest good-humour. 
 
 There was a pause as the situation dawned upon the minister, At first he 
 cursed very heartily and profusely ; but as the absurdity of the circumstances 
 overcame his chagrin, he lay back in the bed and had to give way to his 
 laughter. John, though entirely puzzled, laughed from sympathy ; and next 
 day went back to Grampound with the appointment in his pocket. 
 
95 
 
 of them. 
 
 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 T the general peace of 1814, France regained the African settlements 
 which extended from Cape Blanco to the mouth of the Gambia ; and 
 on the 17th of June, 1816, the frigate Medusa, of 44 guns, with three 
 other vessels, sailed from the port of Rochefort to take possession 
 There is no need to recount the history of the voyage. M. de Chau- 
 mareys, who commanded the frigate, was a commander who added obstinacy 
 to absolute incompetence; and his crew consisted of four hundred men, the 
 greater number of whom were ready to mutiny on the slightest provocation 
 The result was that the frigate, after parting company with her three consorts, 
 ran upon the bank of Arguin, on the north of the Senegambian coast, where, 
 after two days spent in vain attempts to get her off, a storm arose which broke 
 her back. The rudder was unshipped, and as it still held to the stern chains, 
 became a battering-ram, which ruinously crashed on the doomed vessel with 
 every fresh wave ; and to make matters yet worse, a mutiny broke out at the 
 most critical moment, and all order on board was completely lost. 
 
 Consequently the crew took to the boats in the utmost confusion. As the 
 boats were not sufficient to contain all the crew, a raft was rigged up which 
 they calculated to carry one hundred and fifty persons. But in a hurry it 
 was most inadequately provisioned. Of wine, indeed, it had more than enough, 
 but not a single barrel of biscuit. A bag containing twenty-five pounds of 
 biscuit was thrown from the vessel at the moment of departure, but its contents 
 were reduced to pulp by the salt water, and this was all the food upon which 
 the hapless navigators of the raft had to rely. 
 
 The embarkation was a disorderly scramble. Two hundred and thirty 
 persons were stowed away in the six boats ; and a hundred and twenty-nine 
 soldiers and officers, with twenty-nine sailors and passengers, and one woman, 
 found a place on the raft. Seventeen men were abandoned on the wreck, most 
 of them too drunk to be moved. At the last moment M. Correard, an engineer 
 who should have gone in one of the boats, but heriocally refused to desert his 
 men on the raft, called to one of the officers that he would not start unless 
 the raft were supplied with charts and instruments The officer answered that 
 they were all provided, and that he himself was coming on board the raft to 
 navigate her. M. Correard never set eyes on this man again. 
 
 The boats pushed off on the morning of July 15th, the coast being then 
 not fifteen leagues distant. It was settled that they should take the raft in tow. 
 
96 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 and so they started. But after rowing two leagues, the cowards in the boats 
 began to take counsel. It washard work pulling that raft, and really it was 
 a question if such trouble need be taken. Presently a cry arose, " Let's leave 
 them " — " Let go the tow-rope ; " and, after a minute or so, one boat actually 
 did so. The captain made no effort to reprove the action, and the infection of 
 cowardice spread. One by one the boats sent the tow-rope adrift. "Well, 
 well," they said, " we can easily say that it broke." 
 
 At first the wretched men on the raft could not believe the fact that their 
 eyes witnessed. They imagined that the boats must have seen some vessel on 
 the horizon, and were hastening for succour. But at length the ghastly truth 
 broke on them, and in their frantic indignation, mad with fear, they swore to 
 cut to pieces whomsoever of their comrades they overtook. There was little 
 chance of accomplishing their threat. Death — imminent death — stared them 
 in the face. Their floating death-bed was but twenty metres in length, and 
 seven in breadth, and of this, so flimsy was the construction, only the centre was 
 safe — a space that barely afforded standing-room for twenty men. It had been 
 rigged up from the masts and yards of the Medusa. The groundwork was solid 
 enough, and had been securely lashed together : but the breast-work was frail, 
 and two-thirds of the raft liable to constant submersion. And what happened 
 on this awful voyage shall be told in the words of a survivor : — 
 
 "When the boats disappeared, the dismay was terrible. Thirst and famine, 
 with all their terrors, rose before our eyes and appalled us ; and the sea already 
 washed the half of our bodies. The soldiers gave themselves up to despair; 
 seeing death before them, they broke out into groans and lamentations ; nor 
 could anything we said at first avail to calm them. But at length by showing 
 a firm countenance we brought back some tranquillity, and then began to look 
 about for charts, the compass, and the anchor, which, from what had been 
 said to us when we quitted the frigate, we imagined to be on board. Alas ! 
 We had none of them ! 
 
 " The want of a compass in particular dismayed us ; and we broke out into 
 yells and cries for vengeance. All at once, M. Correard remembered that one 
 of his workmen carried a small compass, and asked the man for it. ' Yes, yes,' 
 said he, ' I have it with me.' The news transported us with joy ; for the first 
 time we began to dream of safety. It was about the size of a crown-piece, 
 and far from correct ; but no one who has not been in our case can imagine 
 with what joy we looked upon it. Alas ! and alas ! It was given to the com- 
 mander of the raft, and in a few hours we lost it. It fell between the interstices 
 of our raft, and we lost it for ever. Henceforward we had nothing to guide us 
 but the rising and setting of the sun. 
 
 "We had all left the frigate without breaking our fast, and now we began 
 to be very hungry. So we mixed our biscuit-paste with a little wine and dis- 
 tributed it. This was our first meal, and the best we had the whole time we 
 were on the raft. Our rations of wine we now fixed at three-quarters of a pint 
 
THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 97 
 
 a day. We shall say no more of the biscuit — the first distribution consumed 
 that. But we still hoped. The day passed over very quietly, for we sat and 
 talked of the means of saving ourselves. We never doubted that we should 
 be saved ; and we kept up the spirits of the soldiers promising them vengeance 
 upon the cowards who had deserted us. 
 
 *' M. Coudin, who commanded our raft, being unable to move, M. Savigny 
 
 the young surgeon 
 
 caused the pole of 
 
 one of the frigate's 
 
 masts to be cut in 
 
 two, and on this h( 
 
 the maintop-gallant 
 
 shrouds and stays we made ' j"- 
 
 out of the disused tow-rope. 
 
 This sail of ours trimmed pretty well, but 
 
 was of very little use, as it only served 
 
 when the wind came from behind, and our the boats rowing away 
 
 raft kept always aslant — perhaps from the excessive length of the cross-pieces 
 
 which projected on either side. 
 
 " In the evening we prayed hopefully to heaven — and one consoling thought 
 still pleased our imaginations We conjectured that the boats had sailed for 
 the Isle of Arguin, and once there would lose no time in returning to our 
 assistance. This idea, which we tried to inspire generally, put a stop to the 
 
98 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 clamour of the soldiers and sailors. The night came on, and with it the wind 
 freshened and the sea rose considerably. What a fearful night it was ! At every 
 shock of the sea the people pitched against each other, rolling this way and 
 that. M. Savigny, with a few who yet retained their wits, contrived to fasten 
 some ropes to pieces of the raft. The men took hold of them, and so held on 
 when the great waves came washing over. At midnight the weather grew worse 
 and worse. The seas lifted us and dashed us down upon the raft again with 
 every billow, the cries of the people mingled with the roar of the waters ; and 
 to add to the horror, the night was pitch-black. 
 
 "At one time we thought we descried lights in the distance, and made 
 signals by burning some charges of powder, and even letting off some pistol- 
 shots ; for we had taken the precaution to hang gunpowder and pistols at the 
 mast-head. But we were mistaken, after all ; it was but the white and phos- 
 phorescent gleam of the breakers. So throughout the night we fought on 
 against death, holding fast by the ropes, rolled by the waves from the back to 
 the front, from the front to the back, and sometimes flung over into the sea, 
 suspended between life and death, doomed, yet still fighting for life. So we 
 fared until daybreak — with no sound in our ears but the howling of sea and 
 wind, but shrieks and groans, oaths, sobbings, farewells, and vows to God. 
 
 " About seven in the morning the storm abated a little. But as the day 
 dawned, what a sight was revealed in the sickly light! Ten or twelve poor 
 wretches, their legs entangled in the lattice-work of the raft, had broken their 
 limbs, and so perished horribly. There they were, hanging out into the waters. 
 At breakfast we called the roll and missed twenty men. We will not swear 
 that this was the exact number missing, for we found afterwards that some of 
 the soldiers, in order to have more than their rations, answered twice and even 
 thrice. We were so many crowded together that it was impossible to prevent 
 these abuses. 
 
 "Amid these horrors there was yet room for tears. Two young men had 
 discovered their aged father trampled into insensibility beneath the feet of the 
 soldiers. By the most assiduous care they had restored him to life, and were 
 now holding him in their arms. At the same time two lads and a baker took 
 a final farewell of their friends and flung themselves overboard to be drowned. 
 Already the minds of these people were giving way. Some fancied they saw 
 land, others that they descried vessels bearing down to save us ; and both 
 announced their discoveries with loud cries and clapping of hands. Now, if 
 ever, the boats would be coming back to help us. As the day grew sunny 
 and warm, we sat with our eyes on the horizon, expecting every moment to 
 perceive a sail. 
 
 " The minutes passed into hours, but no help came. As night again drew 
 on, despair indeed weighed on us ; and now the soldiers began to grow 
 mutinous, and to yell with fury at their officers As the darkness came down, 
 the sky became murky with thick clouds ; the wind, too, which all day had 
 
THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 99 
 
 been rather high, rose in fresh fury, and the sea, swelling up, drove the raft 
 impetuously before it. Mountains of water covered us at every moment, and 
 broke violently in our midst. We were obliged to keep to the centre, the 
 more solid part of the raft, and those who could not get there perished almost 
 to a man. Fore and aft the waves dashed them, sweeping them overboard in 
 spite of all their resistance. And at the centre the crowd was such that many 
 were stifled by the weight of their comrades, who tumbled upon them at every 
 moment. The officers clustered round the mast, calling to the men to move 
 this way or that ; for the wave which took us nearly athwart, gave our raft a 
 position almost perpendicular, so that to balance it we were obliged to run to 
 the side tossed up by the sea. 
 
 " And now the soldiers and sailors indeed gave themselves up for lost. 
 Convinced that they would be swallowed up, they wished only to die drunk, 
 and so drown the horror of dying. We had not strength to oppose them 
 They fell upon a cask that stood in the centre of the raft, staved in one end, 
 and filling their tin cups, drank until the salt water rushed in and spoiled the 
 wine . Inflamed with drink and crazed with terror, they swore to rid themselves 
 of their officers, who, said they, would not join in their design of destroying 
 the raft. An axe was called for, and the cry was to cut the ropes and perish 
 all together. A Malay soldier, of giant stature and hideous features, now 
 advanced to the edge of the raft with a boarding-axe, and began to cut at the 
 cords. We advanced to hinder him ; he threatened to kill the officer that in- 
 terrupted him, struck out right and left with his fist, and overthrew all who 
 opposed him. A sabre-blow cut him over as his axe was lifted ; but had there 
 been half a dozen like him, our doom would have been sealed. 
 
 " The subaltern officers and passengers now rushed to arms. The mutineers 
 drew their sabres or got out their knives and advanced upon us. One lifted 
 his sword, and though we were but twenty against a hundred and more, he 
 instantly fell, pierced with wounds. Still they threatened us, and showing a 
 front bristling with sabres and bayonets, retreated to the back of the raft 
 Here one of them, pretending to rest against the breastwork, began with his 
 knife to hew at the ropes. We rushed upon him. A soldier tried to defend 
 him, and threatened one of our officers with his knife. Indeed, he attempted 
 to stab him, but only pierced his coat ; and the officer, turning round, pitched 
 him and his comrade headforemost into the sea. 
 
 "After this there were no more half-measures. The fight spread. Some 
 one cried, * Lower the sail ! ' and instantly a crowd of madmen flung themselves 
 on the yards and shrouds, cut the stays, and toppled over the mast. In its 
 fall it nearly broke the thigh of a captain of foot, and stretched him senseless. 
 The mutineers seized him and flung him into the sea ; we, perceiving it, saved 
 him and set him on a barrel. Again the villains laid hold of him, and were 
 going to cut out his eyes with a penknife, when, driven beyond endurance, 
 we charged them furiously. With drawn gabres we hacked them down, and 
 
100 THE RArr OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 many atoned for a mad hour with the loss of their lives. Several of the 
 passengers behaved with admirable coolness and courage. 
 
 " M. Correard, roused from a kind of trance by the curses of the wounded 
 and the cries of ' Aux armes ! Aux armes, comarades ! ' *A nous ! ' ' Nous somvies 
 perdus /' jumped to his feet, assembled his workmen in the fore part of the 
 raft, and stood on the defensive. Every moment they were attacked by drunken 
 men armed with knives, sabres, bayonets, and clubbed carbines ; and at length 
 were driven to use their arms without reserve, especially as many of their 
 adversaries, falling into the sea, swam round to the fore part of the raft, climbed 
 up, and took them in the rear. 
 
 " During this combat, one of the workmen, named Dominique, joining the 
 rebels, was hurled over into the sea. Immediately M. Correard, forgetting the 
 treachery of the man, jumped in after him at the place where the voice of 
 the wretch had just been heard calling ' A moi !' and seizing him by the hair 
 contrived to drag him on board again Dominique had received several sabre- 
 wounds, which we found, notwithstanding the darkness and tumult, and 
 contrived to bind up. Nevertheless, as soon as he was recovered, this wretch 
 rejoined the pack of mutineers, and directly after was cut down by us and 
 fell dead. 
 
 " At the moment when we had finished dressing the wounds of Dominique, 
 another voice was heard. It was that of the one poor woman who was on 
 the raft with us. She was a sutler, and had been thrown into the sea 
 together with her husband, who defended her with great courage. There she 
 struggled for life, frantically invoking our Lady of Laux. M. Correard, in 
 despair at seeing the two unfortunates perish, seized a large rope, tied it round 
 his waist, and a second time threw himself into the sea, whence he was so 
 happy as to rescue her, whilst her husband was at the same time saved by the 
 chief workman, Lavillette. We seated these two poor people upon dead bodies, 
 with their backs against a barrel. In a icw minutes they recovered their 
 senses. The first thought of the woman was to inquire the name of him who 
 had saved her : and doubtless thinking that words could not express her 
 gratitude, she felt in her pocket and produced a small packet of snuff — it was 
 all she had in the world. This she pressed on M. Correard, who handed it to 
 a poor sailor ; and this fellow subsisted upon it for four days. Nor is it easy 
 to describe the joy of the sutler and her husband on finding themselves safe 
 again in each other's arms. 'You do well to save me,' said the delighted old 
 woman to the workmen ; ' I was in all the Italian campaigns ; for twenty-four 
 years I followed the Grand Army ; I feared not death ; I helped the wounded, 
 I brought them brandy, whether they had money or not. In battle, at times, 
 I lost some of my debtors. But the survivors always paid me double ; so I, 
 too, shared in every victory.' 
 
 " The mutineers now let us alone for awhile, some of them falling at owr 
 feet and asking pardon, which was granted. But at midnight, soon after we 
 
i-HE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 101 
 
 had returned to our post at the centre of the raft, they broke out again, and 
 bein^ now more sober, were also more dangerous. They attacked us, and we 
 charged in our turn, so that the raft was quickly covered with dead bodies. 
 Those who had no arms attempted to tear us with their teeth, and some among 
 us were cruelly bitten. M. Savigny was bitten in the legs and shoulder. Our 
 clothes were pierced in many places by knives and sabres. Four of the 
 mutineers seized a workman and were going to toss him into the sea ; one of 
 
 *' ' AUX AEMES ! AUX ARJIES ! * '' 
 
 them was biting him cruelly in the sinew above the heel, and the others were 
 beating him with sabres and clubbed carbines. His cries made us fly to his 
 aid, and again Lavillette distinguished himself in the rescue. In a moment or 
 two, however, they had seized another, Sous-Lieutenant Lozach, whom they 
 mistook for Lieutenant Danglas, the object of their especial hatred, on account 
 of some harshness which he had shown them when in garrison at the Isle of 
 Rhe. Poor Lozach was with difficulty rescued, and now the cry was all for 
 'Danglas! Danglas!' They saw him everywhere, and furiously and without 
 cessation demanded his head, although M. Danglas was in the boats, and leagues 
 away from us. They seized M. Coudin, who was holding in his arms a sailor- 
 boy, only twelve years old, and resting against a barrel. The pair with the 
 barrel were heaved overboard. Nevertheless, M. Coudin held on to his burden, 
 and seizing the raft, pulled himself back. It was a dreadful night. 
 
 iMjiifiMvm^iiMivvW/r.pgg 
 
 --■.■-.-.■W^^^. 
 
 ■Mir .is» -Ml ■ ^. 
 
102 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 " But though we resisted the mutineers, let it not be thought that we 
 preserved our reason unimpaired. An irresistible lethargy fell upon one, in which 
 pictures of the most lovely woodland and all delightful scenes passed before 
 the mind. If men gave way to this, presently they became furious, or calmly 
 drowned themselves, saying that ' they were going for assistance, and would 
 soon return.' Some would rush with drawn sabres among their comrades, and 
 demand bread or the wing of a fowl. Others called for hammocks, or saw 
 imaginary ships passing ; others again saw a harbour and a gorgeous city that 
 seemed to rise out of the air. M. Correard fancied himself travelling over the 
 plains of Lombardy. One of the officers said, ' I know the boats have deserted 
 us, but never fear. I have sent a carrier-pigeon to the governor, and it will 
 be all right.' When we awoke in the morning, we could scarcely believe but 
 that the horrors of the mutiny also were but a part of our dreams. 
 
 '•But daylight told us the truth. Over sixty men had perished in the 
 mutiny, at least a fourth part of whom had drowned themselves in despair. 
 We of the loyal party had lost only two, and neither of them officers. Many 
 were wailing aloud and shedding tears at the rigour of our fate. But a new 
 misfortune was soon discovered : the rebels had thrown into the sea two of the 
 wine-casks, and both the casks of water. One of these latter, indeed, we re- 
 covered ; but the sea-water had got into it, and it was quite spoiled. We had 
 only one cask of wine left, and as we were now above sixty in number, we at 
 once put ourselves on a half-allowance. 
 
 "At daybreak the sea grew calm, and once more we set up our mast. 
 Whether it were illusion or not, we fancied we saw a line of shore in the dis- 
 tance, and felt the burning air of the Sahara upon our cheeks. It is very likely 
 that we were not far distant from it, for the wind from sea had blown violently ; 
 but in the sequel we spread the sail indifferently to every breeze that blew, so 
 that one day we approached the coast, and on the next ran into the open sea. 
 
 " When the mast was set up, we distributed the wine, amid the curses of 
 the soldiers, who accused us as the cause of their tortures. We, however, though 
 we had not tasted food for forty-eight hours, bore up bravely. Courage alone 
 made us act. We collected tags from the men and bent them into hooks for 
 fishing ; but the currents carried them under the raft, where they were 
 entangled. We bent a bayonet to catch sharks ; but a shark bit it, and 
 straightened it. We tried to eat sword-belts and cartouch-boxes ; some gnawed 
 their linen, others the pieces of leather in their hats ; but it was little good^ 
 though we managed to swallow some morsels. 
 
 ".The day was calm and fine ; but no assistance came. And during the 
 night that followed, ten or twelve more of our number died We gave their 
 bodies to the sea for a grave, and with eyes that made one shudder to look 
 into them, hungrily watched their gradual disappearance beneath the waves. 
 
 " Again the day was fine, and about four in the afternoon some consola- 
 tion came to us. A large shoal of flying-fish passed under the raft and were 
 
THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 108 
 
 entangled in great numbers between its interstices. The men caught near on 
 two hundred, and threw them into an empty cask after opening them and 
 devouring the milt at once. This food seemed delicious to us ; but a man would 
 have wanted a thousand. Yet we thanked God for this goodness. 
 
 " An ounce of gunpower had been found in the morning, and dried in the 
 sun during the day ; a steel, some gun-flints and tinder were also found. With 
 infinite trouble we managed to set fire to some pieces of dried linen, which we 
 put on a barrel that the sea-water might not extinguish the flame. Here we 
 dressed some fish, but so little that we all craved for more. The officers ate 
 human flesh on this day, for the first time. The others had begun on the day 
 before. Our barrel soon took fire, and the powder and tinder were also 
 consumed. But our meal gave us fresh strength, and the night that followed, 
 being calm, might even have appeared happy, had it not been signalised by a 
 new massacre. 
 
 " Some Spaniards, Italians, and negroes, who had remained neutral in the first 
 mutiny, now conspired, under a Piedmontese sergeant, to fall on us during the 
 night and throw us all into the sea. The negroes, tempted by a bag containing 
 fifteen hundred francs and some other valuables, which was hung on to the mast, 
 had assured the rest of these wretches that the coast was close at hand, and 
 promised them that once on shore, they could guide them to a place of safety 
 The sailors, however, remained faithful to us, and discovered the plot. The first 
 signal for combat was given by a Spaniard who, posting himself behind the 
 mast, crossed himself, invoking God with one hand, and drew his knife with the 
 other. This man the sailors overpowered and threw into the sea Immediately 
 an Indian, a servant of one of the officers, caught up a boarding-axe, wrapped 
 himself in a piece of canvas, and flung himself after his comrade. The 
 mutineers rushed forward to avenge their comrades, and a wild and desperate 
 fight followed. Soon again the raft was piled with dead bodies, and slippery 
 with blood. The old cries were resumed, and again the mutineers shrieked for 
 the head of Lieutenant Danglas ; again the poor sutler woman was tossed over- 
 board, and again rescued. At length the mutineers were driven back and 
 cowed, and the officers dropped almost at once upon the bloody timbers and 
 fell asleep. 
 
 "The fifth day rose upon us, and found but thirty left, and of these not 
 above twenty could stand or walk. The salt water had almost entirely 
 excoriated our lower extremities. We were covered with wounds and bruises, 
 which, irritated by the salt waters, wrenched from us the most piercing cries. 
 We had no more wine than was sufficient for four days, and there was not 
 above a dozen fish left. 'In four days,' said we, ' we shall be in want of every- 
 thing, and death will be certain.' 
 
 " On the seventh day, two soldiers slipped behind our only barrel of wine. 
 They had bored a hole in it, and were drinking by means of a reed. We had 
 all sworn that any man found tampering with this wine should be put to death ; 
 
 Hp^nas 
 
 «i .- - - - « .^ «^^w^.«*^ -^ m -M m <M 
 
104 THE RAFT OF THE " MEDUSA." 
 
 this law we now put into execution, and the two trespassers were hurled into 
 the sea. 
 
 " This same day died the boy Leon, whom M. Coudin had rescued. His 
 sweet face, his pretty voice, and the bravery he had shown ( for he had already, 
 through only twelve years old, been through a campaign in the East Indies), 
 all made him the darling of the regiment. He died away at first, like a lamp 
 that goes out for want of nourishment. We gave him all our care, but in vain- 
 He went mad at last, running continually from one side of the raft to the 
 other, calling for his mother, for water, and for food. In this state he trod 
 heedlessly over the feet and legs of his companions in misfortune, in such 
 sort that often they would yell with anguish. Yet they seldom cursed, 
 and never menaced him ; and at last he died, quite quietly, in the arms of 
 M. Coudin. 
 
 " We were thus but twenty-seven in number, and of these all but fifteen 
 were covered with wounds and were delirious. Yet they had their share in the 
 distribution of provisions, and might, before their death, consume thirty or forty 
 bottles of wine, which were of inestimable value to us. We debated therefore — 
 and God knows in what despair — and at length resolved to throw the sufferers 
 into the sea. Among these were the sutler woman and her husband. She had 
 a broken thigh, and the man was cruelly wounded in the head. Three soldiers 
 and a sailor were the appointed executioners. The rest of us hid our faces 
 and wept as the hideous task was done. Afterwards we threw overboard all 
 arms except one sabre only, which might be of service for cutting a rope or 
 shaping a spar. 
 
 "There was now scarcely sufficient food to last us for six days, and these 
 were the most wretched that can be imagined. On the ninth day a new event 
 happened which for awhile diverted our despair. All at once a white butterfly, 
 of the species so common in France, appeared, to the joy of every one, fluttering 
 over our heads, and settled on the sail. We hailed the little creature as the 
 harbinger of news that land was near, and we snatched at this hope in a kind 
 of delirium of joy. Some of the soldiers watched it with feverish c}'es, and 
 would have fought for it as food ; but the rest declared that no harm should 
 be done it, swearing that it was God's messenger. Next day we saw more 
 butterflies, and some sea-birds. These latter we tried to allure towards us ; but 
 all our trouble was vain. We also employed ourselves in raising a kind ol 
 platform in the centre of the raft out of some planks which we loosened from 
 the lore part. Upon this we placed all the effects which we could collect. On 
 this platform the waves still broke over us indeed, but less violently. Here we 
 sometimes passed the hours in telling stories to each other. The old soldiers 
 who had fought under Napoleon had a store of exploits to relate ; and the 
 dauntless Lavillette was the foremost at this amusement. We were prepared to 
 die, it will be seen, but also to meet death with resignation. 
 
 " At this time a raging thirst, redoubled in the daytime by the beams of 
 
THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA," 
 
 105 
 
 the burning sun, consumed us incessantly. We tried to quench its pangs by- 
 drinking sea-water. M Griffon, the governor's secretary, continually did so. He 
 would drink ten or twelve glasses in succession ; but by this means our thirst 
 was only stayed for a moment, and then became more severe. One officer found 
 
 "THE WRECK OF 'LA MEDUSA. 
 
 by chance a little lemon, and tried to keep it to himself; but the rest fought 
 for it, and would have killed him had he not yielded. We also disputed over 
 some dirty cloves, which had been discovered in a little bag. At another time 
 we came on two small phials of tooth-water. The lucky possessor kept them 
 carefully, and made much ado about pouring one or two drops of this liquid into 
 the hollow of a comrade's hand. The stuff produced a delightful sensation in 
 the mouth. Some of us found pieces of pewter, and with these strove to keep 
 our tongues cool. Misfortune, in fact, made us ingenious. It also made the 
 smallest agreeable sensation a supreme happiness. Thus we were for ever 
 
 ^ — ^ M' :M di 
 
 ,«. v^^J**^,^ "^ '^ 
 
106 THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 
 
 passing from hand to hand a small phial which had once contained attar of 
 roses, and would inhale with delight the perfume still clinging about it. A few 
 took their wine through quills ; in our state the smallest quantity often produced 
 intoxication. 
 
 "On the tenth day five of the men declared that they would drown them- 
 selves. It was all we could do to dissuade them, and it seemed as though a 
 fresh mutiny would arise, when suddenly the raft was surrounded by a shoal 
 of sharks, and we all flew to beat off the intruders. With our only remaining 
 sabre Lavilette struck at these monsters time after time, but for a long while 
 they were only beaten off to return again. 
 
 " Three days passed in unspeakable anguish. So heartily did we despise life 
 that many of us did not fear to bathe in sight of the sharks around. A kind of 
 polypus was often driven in great numbers on the raft, and when their long 
 arms clung to our naked bodies they caused us the most cruel sufferings. Yet 
 some of us could indulge in pleasantries. One man said — 
 
 " 'If the brig is sent to look for us, God give her the eyes of Argus' — 
 alluding to the brig that had sailed with them from Rochefort. We always 
 expected that this would be the vessel sent to look for us, as we talked of her 
 continually. 
 
 "During the i6th, as we thought ourselves to be near land, eight of the 
 most determined of us resolved to build a small raft and row for the coast. 
 We took a strong spar and nailed boards across it at small intervals ; in front 
 we fixed a little mast and sail. We intended to provide ourselves with oars 
 made out of barrel-staves. When our machine was finished, it remained to 
 make a trial of it. A sailor, wanting to pass from the front to the back of it, 
 finding the mast in his way, set his foot on one of the crossboards ; the weight 
 of his body made it upset, and this accident proved to us the risk of our enter- 
 prise. We let the new raft drift away, and determined to await death in our 
 present situation. 
 
 " The morning of July 17th rose pure and cloudless. We had now been 
 twelve days on the rait, and we had just prayed to Almighty God — as we 
 always did before dividing the wine — and each man was tasting with delight 
 the small portion that was to last him through the day, when a captain of 
 infantry looking towards the horizon, suddenly descried a ship. 
 
 '• ' The brig ! ' he cried. ' Look ! the brig ! ' 
 
 " A great shout of joy broke from us. Wc could sec that she was a brig, 
 though only the tips of her masts were visible. We straightened some hoops 
 of casks, and tied to them handkerchiefs of different colours. A man, assisted 
 by us all together, mounted to the top of the mast and waved these little flags. 
 For above half an hour we hung between hope and fear. ' It is growing larger I ' 
 cried one. ' No,' another would wail, * it is going away fiom us ! ' And then, 
 all at once, the brig disappeared. 
 
 " Wc sank upon the raft and cave way at last. All was lost now, and we 
 
THE RAFT OF THE "MEDUSA." 107 
 
 said to ourselves, 'When all the wine is gone, and our strength gone too, we 
 will wrap ourselves up as well as we can, and laying ourselves down on our 
 platform, wait for death.' We made a small tent out of the sails still left to 
 us ; and when this was put up we all lay down under it, so that we might 
 not see what was passing around us, and be deluded again by false hope. We 
 agreed to inscribe on a board the account of our adventures, sign it, and fasten 
 it to the mast, so that if ever the raft with our corpses upon it should be picked 
 up, the French Government and our families should learn our fate. We then 
 tried to sleep off the agony of our minds. 
 
 " We had lain thus for some time, when the master-gunner, who had feebly 
 lifted up the flap of the sail, looked out. We were awakened by a scream of 
 joy. We looked. His face was transfigured ; his hands were stretched towards 
 the sea ; he scarcely breathed. All he could manage to whisper was — 
 
 ' ' ' Saved ! See, the brig is close upon tis ! ' 
 
 " Yes, there she was, at most half a league from us. Her white sails were 
 spread, and she steered directly for us. We embraced each other ; we wept 
 for joy ; we knelt and prayed and gave God thanks aloud. We seized hand- 
 kerchiefs and waved them to the brig ; even those whose feet were so sorely 
 wounded that they could not stand, crawled to the edge of the raft to bathe 
 their eyes in the sight of the deliverers. 
 
 " Straight before the wind came the brig, and the white flag of France flew 
 from its fore-masthead. We knew then that it must be the Argus, and we 
 thanked God for that, too : that our rescuers were of our own country. She 
 came near and lay-to on our starboard, within half a pistol-shot. Her crew, 
 ranged on the deck and in the shrouds, waved handkerchiefs and fired pistols 
 to announce the good tidings. A boat was immediately hoisted out ; an ofiicer 
 of the brig, one M. Lemaigre, stepped into it and took the command. Nothing 
 could exceed the tenderness he showed. And in a short time we were all on 
 board the Argus. Pity was painted on every face, and compassion drew tears 
 from all who cast eyes on us." 
 
 Here our tale may end. But the visitor to the Louvre in Paris will see 
 on its walls a picture by Gericault, ghastly and wild in colouring, but fascinating 
 for all that. It represents a raft, half submerged by the sea, piled with a 
 jumble of dead bodies and living men, some raving, some abandoned to gloomy 
 despair, but all emaciated and wasted with suffering. On a barrel, a negro is 
 frantically waving to a distant brig, and around him a mass of half-naked 
 men cling and point and struggle to look towards deliverance The picture's 
 name is "The Wreck oi La Meduse\" it was painted in a studio crowded 
 with corpses, for no living man could serve as model for one of those awful 
 figures ; and it tells one of the most shameful stories in the history of France. 
 
 w^immmimmmmmm 
 
 i& ^ ^ A ^ 
 
"A YOUNG WOMAN WHOM THE SOLDIERS WEEK DRAGGING BEFORE THEIR 
 
 LIEUTENANT." (/. IO9 ) 
 
 SOME EPISODES OF WAR. 
 
 I. A TRAGEDY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR. 
 
 URING the war in Spain a French regiment had been sent out from 
 Burgos against a guerilla party under the Marquis of Villa Campo, 
 with orders to treat the Spaniards with the most rigorous severity, 
 especially the inhabitants of Arguano, a little village near the 
 famous forest of Covelleda, whose deep shades, intersected only by narrow foot- 
 paths, were the resort of banditti and guerillas. A principal feature of the whole 
 Spanish war was the celerity with which the French movements were notified 
 to the native chiefs, and the difficulty experienced in procuring a spy or guide ; 
 while these when found proved almost uniformly treacherous 
 
 The battalion in question had to march through a frightful country, climbing 
 rugged rocks and crossing frozen torrents, always in dread of unforeseen and 
 sudden dangers. They reached the village, but perceived no movement — 
 heard no noise. Some soldiers advanced, but saw nothing — absolute solitude 
 reigned. 
 
 The officer in command, suspecting a ambush, ordered the utmost circum- 
 spection. The troops entered the street, and arrived at a small opening where 
 some sheaves of wheat and Indian corn and a quantity of loaves were still 
 
A TRAGEDY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR. 
 
 109 
 
 smoking on the ground, but consumed to a cinder, aud swimming in floods ot 
 wine, which had streamed from leathern skins that had evidently been purposely- 
 broached, as the provisions had been burnt, to prevent their falling into the 
 hands of the French. 
 
 No sooner had the soldiers satisfied themselves that, after all their toils and 
 dangers, no refreshment was to be obtained, then they roared with rage — but 
 no vengeance was within reach ! All the inhabitants had fled ! — fled into the 
 forest, where they might defy pursuit. 
 
 Suddenly cries were heard issuing from one of the deserted cottages, amongst 
 which the soldiers had dispersed themselves in hopes of discovering some food 
 or booty ; they proceeded from a young woman holding a child a year old in 
 her arms, whom the soldiers were dragging before their lieutenant. 
 
 "Stay, lieutenant," said one of them ; "here is a woman we have found 
 sitting beside an old one who is past speaking : question her a little." 
 
 She was dressed in the peasant costume of the Soria and Rioja mountains, 
 and was pale, but not trembling. 
 
 " Why are you alone here ? " asked the lieutenant in Spanish. 
 
 " I stayed with my grandmother, who is paralytic, and could not follow the 
 rest to the forest," replied she haughtily, as if vexed at being obliged to drop 
 a word in presence of a Frenchman ; " I stayed to take care of her." 
 
 " Why, have your neighbours left the village .''" 
 
 The Spaniard's eyes flashed fire ; she fixed on the lieutenant a look of 
 strange import, and answered, ** You know very well. Were they all not to be 
 massacred .-' " 
 
 The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. " But why did you burn the bread 
 and wheat, and empty the wine-skins ? " 
 
 " That you might find nothing. As they could not carry them off, there was 
 no alternative but burning them." 
 
 At this moment shouts of joy arose, and the soldiers appeared carrying a 
 number of hams, some loaves, and, more welcome than all, several skins of 
 wine — all discovered in a vault, the entrance of which was concealed by the 
 straw that the old woman was lying on. The young peasant darted on 
 them a look of infernal vengeance, while the lieutenant, who had pondered 
 with anxiety on the destitute and sinking condition of his troops, rejoiced for a 
 moment in the unexpected supply. But the recent poisoning of several cisterns, 
 and other fearful examples, putting him on his guard, he again interrogated 
 the woman. 
 
 " Whence come these provisions ?" 
 
 " They are the same as those we burnt ; we concealed them from our 
 friends," 
 
 " Is your husband with the brigands yonder ? " 
 
 " My husband is in heaven," said she, lifting up her eyes ; " he died for the 
 good cause — that of God and King Ferdinand." 
 
 '«..«,-« Mjtm^^M 
 
 M W^-iTM^i 
 
no A TRAGEDY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR. 
 
 " Have you any brother amongst them ? " 
 
 " I have no longer a tie, except my poor child ;" and she pressed the infant 
 to her heart. The poor litt'ie creature was thin and sallow, but its large black 
 eyes glistened as they turned to its mother. 
 
 " Commander,'' exclaimed one of the soldiers, "pray order division of the 
 booty, for we are hungry and devilish thirsty ! " 
 
 " One moment, my children. Listen," said he, eyeing the young woman 
 with suspicious inquisition ; "these provisions are good, I hope .'"' 
 
 "How should they be otherwise ?" replied the Spaniard contemptuosly ; 
 " they were not for you." 
 
 " Well, here's to thy health, then, Demonia," said a young sub-lieutenant, 
 opening one of the skins, and preparing for a draught ; but his more prudent 
 commander still restrained him. 
 
 " One moment. Since this wine is good, you will not object to a glass ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no, as much as you please ; " and accepting the mess-glass offered 
 by the lieutenant she emptied it without hesitation. 
 
 " Huzza ! huzza 1 " shouted the soldiers, delighted at the prospect of drinking 
 without danger. 
 
 " And your child will drink some also ? " said the lieutenant ; "he is so pale, 
 it will do him good." 
 
 The Spaniard had herself drunk without hesitation, but in holding the cup 
 to her infant's lips her hand trembled ; the motion was, however, unperceived, 
 and the child also emptied his glass. 
 
 Thereupon the provisions speedily disappeared, and all partook both of food 
 and wine. Suddenly, however, the infant was observed to turn livid ; its features 
 contracted, and its mouth, convulsed with agony, gave vent to piteous shrieks. 
 The mother, too, though her fortitude suppressed all complaint, could scarcely 
 stand, and her distorted features betrayed her sufferings. 
 
 " Wretch i " exclaimed the commandant, " thou hast poisoned us ! " 
 
 " Yes," she said, with a ghastly smile, falling to the ground beside her child, 
 already struggling with the death-rattle — " yes, I have poisoned you. I knew 
 you would fetch the skins from their hiding-place ; was it likely you would leave 
 a dying creature undisturbed on her litter } Yes, yes, you will die, and die in 
 perdition, while I shall go to heaven." 
 
 Her last words were scarcely audible, and the soldiers at first did not com- 
 prehend the full horror of their situation ; but as the poison operated, tlie 
 Spaniard's declaration was legibly translated in her convulsed features. No 
 power could longer restrain them ; in vain their commander interposed ; they 
 repulsed him, and, dragging their expiring victim by the hair to the brink of 
 the torrent, threw her into it, aft»r lacerating her with more than a hundred 
 sabre-strokes. She uttered not a groan. As for the child, it was the first victim. 
 
 Twenty-two men were destroyed by this exploit, which cannot be called 
 otherwise than heroic. The commandant himself escaped by a miracle. 
 
 I )A 1 \^\ .w 
 
"•YES, I HAVE POISONED YOU'" (p. no). 
 
 * ^4 «■•«'■'«'> a"-' A**"'^*^'«-« J*. .« « m 
 
 'k i^ 'M M ^ 
 
112 HOW A FORT WAS TAKEN. 
 
 II. HOW A FORT WAS TAKEN. 
 
 In 1756 Admiral Watson, having sailed with the squadron and the King's 
 troops from Fort St. David, in the East Indies, to the assistance of Calcutta, 
 stopped at Mayapore, on the banks of the Ganges, where the enemy had a 
 place of considerable strength, called the Bougce Fort, which it was necessary 
 to secure before he proceeded on his expedition. 
 
 The action began with a brisk cannonade from the squadron, which soon 
 silenced the cannon of the fort ; but the garrison not offering to surrender, and 
 continuing to discharge fire-arrows and small-arms, it was determined in a 
 council of sea and land officers that Colonel Clive should endeavour to take it 
 by assault. For this purpose, at five in the evening, the Admiral landed an 
 officer, two midshipmen, and about forty sailors from each ship, under the 
 command of Captain King, to assist Clive in storming the fort ; which he in- 
 tended doing just before daylight, under the cover of two twenty-four pounders 
 close to the ditch. In the meantime the colonel had given directions that the 
 whole army (the necessary guards excepted), and the detachment from the 
 ships, should rest on the ground, in order to recover themselves as much as 
 possible from the great fatigues they had undergone the preceding day. 
 
 All was now quiet in the camp. We on board the ships, that lay at their 
 anchors at but a small distance from the shore, had entertained thoughts of 
 making use of this interval to refresh ourselves also with an hour or two of 
 sleep, when suddenly a loud and universal acclamation was heard from the 
 shore ; and soon after, the account was brought to the Admiral that the fort 
 had been taken by storm. 
 
 This was a joyful piece of news, and the more so as it was quite unexpected ; 
 but when the particular circumstances that ushered in this success were 
 related, our exultation was greatly diminished, because we found that the 
 discipline so indispensably necessary in all naval exploits had been entirely 
 disregarded in the present instance, and therefore could not help looking upon 
 the person who had the principal hand in this victory rather as an object of 
 chastisement than of applause. 
 
 The case was this : — During the tranquil state of the camp, one Strahan, a 
 common sailor, belonging to the Kent, having just received his allowance of 
 grog, found his spirits too much elated to think of taking any rest. He 
 therefore strayed by himself towards the fort, and imperceptibly got under 
 the walls. Being advanced thus far without interruption, he took it into his 
 head to scale a breach that had been made by the cannon of the ships : 
 and having fortunately reached the bastion, he there discovered several 
 Moors sitting upon the platform, at whom he flourished his cutlass and 
 then fired his pistol, and, having given three loud huzzas, cried out, *' The 
 place is mine ! " 
 
 *.'' it> 
 
HOW A FORT WAS TAKEN. 
 
 "3 
 
 <» 
 
 The Moorish soldiers immediately attacked him, and he defended himself 
 with incredible resolution ; but in the encounter he had the misfortune to have 
 the blade of his cutlass cut in two, about a foot from the hilt. This, however, 
 did not happen until he was warmly supported by two or three other sailors 
 who had accidentally straggled to the same part of the fort on which the other 
 had mounted. They, hearing Strahan's cries, immediately scaled the breach 
 
 ' 'THE PLACE IS MINe! ' " 
 
 likewise, and with their triumphant shouts roused the whole army, who, 
 taking the alarm, presently fell on pell-mell, without order and without discipline, 
 following the example of the sailors. 
 
 This attack, though made in such confusion, was followed with no other ill- 
 consequence but the death of the worthy Captain Dougall Campbell, who was 
 unfortunately killed by a musket bullet from one of our own pieces in the 
 general confusion. Captain Coote commanded the fort for that night, and at 
 daybreak the fort saluted the Admiral. 
 
 Strahan, the hero of this adventure, was soon brought before the Admiral, 
 who, notwithstanding the success that had attended it, thought it necessary to 
 show himself displeased with a measure in which the want of all naval 
 
 i 'ti « ^'i'^^^^^l^^m^m^M'J^JU^J^J^■'" 
 
114 THE COVENANTER. 
 
 discipline so notoriously appeared. He there-fore angrily inquired into the 
 desperate step which he had taken — 
 
 " Strahan, what is this that you have been doing ? " 
 
 The sailor made his bow, scratched his head with one hand, and, twirling 
 his hat in the other, replied, " Why, to be sure, sir, it was I who took the 
 fort ; but I hope, your honour, as how there was no harm in it." 
 
 The Admiral with difficulty refrained from smiling at the simplicity of 
 Strahan's answer, and having expatiated largely on the fatal consequences that 
 might have attended his irregular conduct, with a severe rebuke dismissed 
 him, but not before he had given Strahan some distant hints that at a proper 
 opportunity he would be certainly punished for his temerity. Strahan, amazed 
 to find himself blamed where he expected praise, had no sooner gone from the 
 Admiral's cabin than he muttered to himself, '' If I am flogged for this here 
 action, I'll never take another fort by myself as long as I live." 
 
 The novelty ot the case, the success of the enterprise, and the courageous 
 spirit which he had displayed, pleaded strongly with the Admiral on behalf of 
 the offender, and yet at the same time the discipline of the service required 
 that he should show him outwardly some marks of his displeasure. This the 
 Admiral did for some little time, but afterwards, at the intercession of some 
 officers (which intercession the Admiral himself prompted them to make), he 
 most readily pardoned him. And it is not improbable that, had Strahan 
 been proper qualified for the office of boatswain, the Admiral, before the 
 expedition had ended, would have promoted Strahan to that station in one of 
 His Majesty's ships ; but, unfortunately for this brave fellow, the whole tenor 
 of his conduct, both before and after the storming of the fort, was so very 
 irregular as to render it impossible for the Admiral to advance him. 
 
 Strahan subsequently served in every one of Admiral Pocock's engagements 
 in the West Indies, and afterwards, in consequence of a wouud, became a 
 pensioner to the Chest at Chatham. '• At present," says the writer of the above 
 account, which is taken from the Naval Chronicle "he acts as a sailor in 
 one of the guardships at Portsmouth, and says that his highest ambition 
 is to be made cook of one of Hio Majesty's capital ships ! " 
 
 ra.— THE COVENANTER. 
 
 Our next episode is taken from " Peden's Life," and the scene is laid in 
 Scotland, at the date of Bothwell Brigg and the merciless persecution of the 
 Covenanters by Graham of Claverliouse. 
 
 '• One morning, in those evil days, a man of the name of John Brown, 
 having performed the worship of God in his family, was going with a spade 
 in his hand to make ready some peat-ground. The mist being very dark, 
 he knew not where he was, till the bloody Claverhouse compassed him with 
 three troops of his horse, brought him to his house, and there examined him. 
 
THE COVENANTER. 115 
 
 "John Brown, though a man of stammering speech, yet answered him 
 both distinctly and solidly, which made Claverhouse examine those whom he 
 had taken to be his guides through the moors, if they had heard him 
 preach. They answered, * No, no, he was never a preacher.' To which 
 he replied, ' If he has never preached, meikle has he prayed in his time.' He 
 then said to John, ' Go to your prayers, for you shall immediately die.' 
 
 "When he was praying, Claverhouse interrupted him three times. One time 
 that he interrupted him he was praying that the Lord would spare a remnant, 
 and not make a full end in the day of His anger. Claverhouse said, ' I gave you 
 time to pray, and you are begun to preach.' He turned on his knees and said, 
 ' Sir, you know neither the nature of prayer nor preaching, that call this 
 preaching ;' and then continued without confusion. 
 
 " His wife standing by, with her children in her arms, he came to her and 
 said, ' Now, Marion, the day is come that I told you would come when I first 
 spoke to you of marrying me.' She said, * Indeed, John, I can willingly 
 part with you.' Then he said, * This is all I desire ; I have no more to do but 
 to die.' 
 
 " He kissed his wife and bairns, and wished purchased and promised 
 blessings to be poured upon them, and gave them his blessing. Claverhouse 
 ordered six soldiers to shoot him. The most part of the bullets came upon his 
 head, which scattered the brains upon the ground. Then said Claverhouse to 
 the hapless widow, * What thinkest thou of thy husband now, woman.'' To 
 which she answered, ' I thought ever much of him, and now as much as 
 ever.' He said, ' It were but justice to lay thee beside him.' She replied, • If 
 ye were permitted, I doubt not your cruelty would go that length ; but how 
 will ye mak answer for this morning's work ? ' ' To men,' said he, * I can be 
 answerable ; and for God, I will take Him in mine own hand.' 
 
 ** Claverhouse mounted his horse and left her with the corpse of her dead 
 husband lying there ; she set the bairn on the ground, and gathered his brains, 
 and tied up his head, and straightened his body, and covered him with her 
 plaid, and sat down and wept over him. It being a very desert place, where 
 never a victual grew, and far from neighbours, it was some time before any 
 friends came to her. The first that came was a very fit hand, that old singular 
 Christian woman in the Cummerhead, named Elizabeth Menzies, three miles 
 distant, who had been tried with the violent death of her husband at Pentland, 
 afterwards of two worthy sons — Thomas Weir, who was killed at Drumclog ; 
 and David Steele, who was suddenly shot afterwards when taken. The said 
 Marion, sitting upon her husband's grave, told me that before this she could 
 see no blood but she was in danger to faint ; and yet she was helped to be a 
 witness to all this without either fainting or confusion, except, when the shots 
 let off, her eyes were dazzled. His corpse was buried at the end of the house 
 where he was slain." 
 
 ^ '4'^ '1 & 4k A i^ m JSf j^"^ 
 
xz6 
 
 A DESPERATE ERRAND 
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF GRIZEL COCHRANE. 
 
 T Edinburgh, almost under the shadow of the spire of St. Giles's, in 
 the pavement between that old cathedral church and the County 
 Hall, the passer-by will mark the figure of a heart let into the 
 causeway, and know that he fs standing on the "Heart of Mid- 
 lothian," the site of the old Tolbooth. That gloomy pile vanished in the 
 autumn of 1817 ; as Mr. Stevenson says, "the walls are now down in the dust ; 
 there is no more squalor carceris for merry debtors, no more cage for the old 
 acknowledged prison-breaker ; but the sun and the wind play freely over the 
 foundations of the gaol ;" this place, "old in story and name-father to a noble 
 book.'' The author of that same " noble book " possessed himself of some 
 memorials of the keep he had rendered so famous, securing the stones of the 
 gateway, and the door with its ponderous fastenings to decorate the entrance of 
 his kitchen-court at Abbotsford. And this is all that is left. 
 
 But in the summer and autumn of 1685 the Tolbooth held prisoners enough, 
 notwithstanding the many gloomy processions that were from time to time 
 walking to the axe and halter in the Grassmarket ; and in a narrow cell, late 
 one August evening, two persons were sitting of whom this story shall treat. 
 These two were Sir John Cochrane, of Ochiltree, and his daughter Grizel — here 
 on the saddest of errands, to visit her father in prison and help in his prepara- 
 tions for death. 
 
 For Sir John, a stout Whig, had been one of the leaders of Argyle's 
 insurrection ; had been beaten with his troops by Lord Ross at Muirdykes; 
 had disbanded his handful of men, and f^ed for hiding to the house of his 
 uncle, Mr. Gavin Cochrane, of Craigmuir ; had been informed against by his 
 uncle's wife, seized, taken to Edinburgh ; had been paraded, bound and bare- 
 headed, through the streets by the common executioner ; and then on the 3d 
 of July flung into the Tolbooth to await his trial for high treason. And now 
 the trial, too, was over, and Sir John was condemned to die. 
 
 As he now sat, with bowed head, on the bench of his cell, it was not the 
 stroke of death that terrified him — for Sir John was a brave man — but tha 
 parting with his children, who would through his rashness be left both orphaned 
 and penniless ( for the Crown would seize his goods ), and chiefly the parting 
 with his daughter, who had been his one comfort in the dark days of waiting 
 for the King's warrant of execution to arrive. 
 
 Between his apprehension and his trial no friend or kinsman had been 
 
A DESPERATE ERRAND. 
 
 117 
 
 allowed to visit him ; but now that his death was assured, greater license had 
 been granted. But, anxious to deprive his enemies of a chance to accuse his 
 sons, he had sent them his earnest entreaties and commands that they should 
 abstain from using this pcrmisson until the night before his execution. They 
 had obeyed ; but obedience of this sort did not satisfy the conscience of his 
 daughter Grizel. On the very night of his condemnation he heard the key 
 turn in his door ; thinking it could only be the gaoler, he scarcely lifted his 
 eyes But next moment a pair of soft arms were flung round his neck, and 
 his daughter weeping on his breast. From that day she had continued to visit 
 him ; and now as she sat beside him, staring at the light already fading in 
 the narrow pane, both father and daughter knew that it was almost the last time. 
 
 Presently she spoke — 
 
 " And this message — tell me truly, have you any hope from it ? " 
 
 It was an appeal made by Sir John's father, the Earl of Dundonald, to 
 Father Peters, the King's confessor, who often dictated to him, as was well 
 known, on matters of State. But in the short time left, would there be time 
 to press this appeal, and exert that influence in London which alone could stay 
 the death-warrant ? 
 
 " There is no hope in that quarter," said Sir John. 
 
 Grizel knew that he spoke only what was her own conviction, and her 
 despair. 
 
 " Argyle is dead these three days," pursued her father, " and with him men 
 of less consequence than I. Are they likely to spare me — a head of the rising > 
 Would they spare any man now, in the heat of their revenge ?" 
 
 "Father," said Grizel suddenly, "could you spare me from your side for a 
 few days .'' " 
 
 Sir John looked up. He knew by her manner that she had formed some 
 plan in her mind ; he knew, too, from her heart, that nothing but a chance of 
 winning his safety could take her from him now, of all times. 
 
 " My child," he said, " you are going to attempt something." 
 
 She nodded, with a brighter face than she had worn for many days. 
 
 " And what you would attempt," he went on, " is an impossibility." 
 
 " Nothing is impossible to a true heart," she said. 
 
 " And who will help you .'' " 
 
 " No one." She was standing before him now, and in the twilight he could 
 see her eyes lit up with hope, her figure upright, and as if full of a man's 
 strength. 
 
 " My girl, you will run into danger — into blame. They will not spare you, 
 and: — do you know the characters of those men whom you would have to sue .-* " 
 
 She bent and kissed him. 
 
 " I am a Cochrane, my father." 
 
 Early next morning, before the world was up, Grizel Cochrane was mounted 
 
 M <M "^^ ifii ^ ^ .^ >^^.^*^.Ar 
 
 m 1 
 
 ^^ m 
 
ii8 A DESPERATE ERRAND. 
 
 on horseback and riding- towards the border. She had dressed herself — this girl 
 of eighteen — as a young serving-woman, and when she drew rein at a wayside 
 cottage, for food and drink, professed herself journeying on a borrowed horse to 
 visit her mother's house, across the Tweed, 
 
 By noon Edinburgh was some leagues behind, but she pressed on through 
 
 that day and most of the 
 following night. On the 
 second day after leaving 
 Edinburgh she crossed the 
 Tweed, and came in safety 
 to the home of an old 
 nurse, on the English side, 
 four miles beyond the 
 town of Berwick. 
 
 " Gude sakes ! " cried 
 the old woman, who was 
 standing at her cottage 
 door and was rather 
 astonished to find the 
 horsewoman draw rein, 
 leap to the ground, and 
 plant a kiss on either cheek 
 — " Gude sakes ! if it isna 
 Miss Grizel I " 
 
 " Quickly, into the 
 
 house ! " commanded her 
 
 young mistress ; "I have 
 
 somewhat to tell that 
 
 will not wait an hour." 
 
 She knew the old nurse was to be trusted, and therefore told her story and 
 
 her secret. "Even now," she said at the end of her story, "the postman is 
 
 riding from London with the warrant in his bag. I must stop him and make 
 
 him give it up to me, or my father's head is the penalty." 
 
 " But what use to talk o' this, when the postman is a stout rider, and 
 armed to boot .-^ How is a mere girl, saving your presence, to do this at all ?" 
 "Look here." 
 
 Grizel uuroUed a bundle which she had brought on her saddle-crutch from 
 Edinburgh ; it held a horseman's cloak and a brace of pistols. 
 
 " Now," said she, " where are the clothes of Donald, my foster-brother .'' He 
 was a slight lad in times syne, and little doubt they'll fit me." 
 
 For this was indeed the brave girl's plan : — In those times the mail from 
 London took eight days on its journey to Edinburgh ; by possessing herself of 
 the warrant for her father's death and detaining it, she could count on the 
 
 "SHE PULLKD OUT THE I'lSI'OLS" (/. I20). 
 
A DESPERATE ERRAND. 
 
 119 
 
 delay of sixteen or seventeen days at least before application could be made 
 for a second, and that signed and sent to the Scotch capital. By this delay, 
 time enough would be won for her friends in London to use all their influence 
 to quash the sentence. 
 
 It was a mad scheme ; but, as she had said, nothing is impossible to a true 
 heart. She had possessed herself, too, of the minutest information with regard 
 to the places where the postmen rested on their journey. One of these places, 
 she knew, was a small inn kept by a widow on the outskirts of the little town 
 of Belford. There the man who received the bag at Durham was accustomed 
 to arrive at about six in the morning, and take a few hours' sleep before 
 going on with his journey. And at Belford, Grizel Cochrane had determined 
 to meet him. 
 
 Taking leave of her faithful nurse, she rode southwards again, and, timing 
 her pace, drew up before the inn at Belford just an hour after the postman 
 had come in from the south and disposed himself to sleep. 
 
 The mistress of the inn had no ostler, so Grizel stabled her horse with her 
 own hands, and striding into the inn-parlor, demanded food and drink. 
 
 " Sit ye down, then," answered the old woman, "at the end of yon table, 
 for the best I have to give you is there already. And be pleased, my bonny 
 man, to make as little noise as may be ; for there's one asleep in that bed that 
 I like ill to disturb." 
 
 She pointed to the victuals on the board, which were indeed the remains 
 of the sleeping man's meal. Grizel sat down before them, considered to herself 
 while she played with a mouthful or two, and then asked — 
 
 •' Can I have a drink of water ?" 
 
 " 'Deed," answered the hostess, "and are ye a water-drinker.? 'Tis but an 
 ill-custom for a change-house." 
 
 " Why, that I know ; and so, when I put up at an inn, 'tis my custom always 
 to pay for it the price of stronger drink, which I cannot take." 
 
 " Indeed — well, that's fairly spoken ; and, come to think of it, 'tis but just.' 
 The landlady brought a jug of water and set it on the board. 
 
 " Is the well where you got this water near at hand .-* " said Grizel, pouring 
 out a glass and sipping at it ; *' for if 'tis no trouble to fetch some fresh for 
 me, I will tell you this is rather over-warm and flat. Your trouble shall be 
 considered in the lawing," added she. 
 
 " 'Tis a good step off," answered the dame ; " but I cannot refuse to fetch 
 for so civil, discreet a lad — and a well-favored one, besides So bide ye here, 
 and I'll be as quick as I maun. But for any sake take care and don't meddle 
 with the man's pistols there, for they are loaded, the both ; and every time I 
 set eyes on them they scare me out of my senses, almost." 
 
 She took up a pitcher and went out to draw the water. No sooner was 
 Grizel left alone than, starting up, she waited for a moment, listening to the 
 footsteps as they died away in the distance, and then crept swiftly across the 
 
 
 jAf wi. -r.... 
 
I20 A DESPERATE ERRAND. 
 
 floor to the place where the postman lay asleep. He lay in one of those close 
 wooden bedsteads, like cupboards, which were then common in the houses of 
 the poor, and to this day may be seen in many a house in Brittany. The door 
 of it was left half-open, to give the sleeper air, and from this aperture the noise 
 of his snoring issued in a way that shook the house. 
 
 Nevertheless, it seemed to the girl that he must be awakened by the 
 creaking of the floor under her light footfall. With heart in mouth she stole 
 up to the bedstead, and gently pulling the door still wider ajar, peeped in, in 
 the hope of seeing the mail-bag and being able to pounce upon it. 
 
 She saw it, indeed ; but to her dismay, it lay beneath the shaggy head of 
 its guardian — a giant in size. The postman used his charge as a pillow, and 
 had flung himself so heavily across it as to give not the faintest hope that 
 any one could pull it away without disturbing its keeper from his nap. Nothing 
 could be done now. In those few bitter moments, during which she stood 
 helplessly looking from the bag which contained the fatal warrant to the 
 unconscious face of the man before her, Grizel made up her mind to 
 another plan. 
 
 She turned to the table, caught up the postman's holsters, and pulled out 
 thr pistols of which the old woman had professed herself in such terror. 
 Quickly drawing and secreting the charges, she returned them to their cases, 
 with many an anxious look over her shoulder towards the bedstead, and took 
 her seat again at the foot of the table. 
 
 Hardly had she done so when she heard the old woman returning with the 
 pitcher. Grizel took a draught, for her throat felt like a lime-kiln, and having 
 settled her bill, much to the landlady's satisfaction, by paying for the water the 
 price of a pot of beer, prepared to set off. She carelessly asked and ascertained 
 how much longer the other guest was likely to sleep. 
 
 " By the noise he makes he intends sleeping till Doomsday," she said, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Ay, poor man ! his is a hard life," said the hostess ; " and little more than 
 half an hour more before he must be on the highway again," 
 
 Grizel laughed once more, and, mounting her horse, set off at a trot along 
 the road southward, as if continuing her journey in that direction. 
 
 Hardly had she got beyond the town, however, when turning the horse's 
 head she galloped back, making a circuit around Bclford and striking into the 
 high road again between that place and Berwick. Having gained it, she walked 
 the horse gently on, awaiting the coming up of the postman. 
 
 Though all her mind was now set on the enterprise before her, she could 
 not help a shiver of terror as she thought on tiie chance of her tampering 
 with the pistols being discovered, and their loading replaced. But she had 
 chosen her course, and now she must go through with it. She was a woman, 
 after all ; and it cannot be wondered that her heart began to beat quickly as 
 her ear caught the sound of hoofs on the road behind her, and, turning, she saw 
 
A DESPERATE ERRAND. 
 
 I2t 
 
 ihe man on whose face she had been gazing not an hour before, trotting briskly 
 towards her — the mail-bags (there were two — one containing the letters direct 
 
 "'THAT MAIL I MUST AND WILL HAVE. CHOOSE, THEN*" ( /. 122). 
 
 from London, the other those taken up at the different post-offices on the 
 road) strapped one on each side of his saddle in front, close to the holsters. 
 At the last moment her nerve came back, and as he drew near she saluted 
 
 A a- ^ &'^:j^^'J^^^j^ . 
 
 :M ' ■£ 
 
122 A DESPERATE ERRAND. 
 
 him civilly and with perfect calmness, put her horse into the same pace with 
 his, and rode on for some way in his company. 
 
 The postman was a burly, thick-set man, with a good-humored face. You 
 may be sure that Miss Cochrane inspected it anxiously enough, and was relieved 
 to find that it did not contain any vast amount of hardy courage. 
 
 The man was well enough inclined for conversation, too, and as they rode 
 had a heap of chat, which it seemed a pity to interrupt. At length, however, 
 when they were about half-way between Belford and Berwick, Grizel judged 
 now or never was the time. Pulling her horse's rein gently so as to bring 
 her close to her company, she said in a low but perfectly determined voice — 
 
 " Friend, I have taken a fancy for those mail-bags of yours, and I must 
 have them ; therefore take my advice, and deliver them up quietly, for I am 
 provided for all hazards. I am mounted, as you see, on a fleet horse ; I carry 
 fire-arms ; and, moreover, I am allied with those who are stronger, though not 
 bolder, than I. You see that wood, yonder .-'" she continued, pointing to one 
 about a mile off, with an accent and air meant to corroborate her bold words. 
 " Then take my advice : give me up your bags, and speed back the road you 
 came for the present, nor dare to approach that wood for at least two or three 
 hours to come." 
 
 The postman, whose eyes had been growing rounder and rounder during 
 this speech from the stripling beside him, pulled up and looked at her in dumb 
 amazement for some moments. 
 
 " If," said he, as soon as he found his tongue, "you mean, young master, to 
 make yourself merry at my expense, you are heartily welcome. I can see a 
 joke, I trust, as well as another man ; so have your laugh out, and don't 
 think I'm one to take offence at the words of a foolish boy. But if," and here 
 he whipped a pistol from his holster and turned the muzzle on her face — 
 "ify'are mad enough to think seriously of such a business, then I am ready 
 for you." 
 
 They had come to a stand now, in the middle of the road ; and Grizel felt 
 an ugly sinking at the heart as she looked at the mouth of the pistol, now 
 not a yard from her cheek. Nevertheless she answered, very quietly and 
 coolly — 
 
 " If you have a doubt, dismiss it ; I am quite in earnest." 
 
 The postman, with his hand on the trigger, hesitated. 
 
 " Mcthinks, my lad, you seem of an age when robbing a garden or an old 
 woman's fruit-stall would befit you better, if so be you nmst turn thief, than 
 taking His Majesty's mails upon his highway from a stout and grown man. 
 So be thankful, then, you have met with one who will not shed blood if he 
 can help it, and go your way before I am provoked to fire." 
 
 "Sir," said Grizel, "you are a worthy man ; nor am I fonder of bloodshed 
 than you ; but if )-ou will not be persuaded, what shall I do .'' For I have 
 said — and it is truth — that mail I must and will have. Choose, then ; '' and 
 
A DESPERATE ERRAND 123 
 
 with this she puiied out a pistol from under her cloak, and, cocking it, presented 
 it in his face. 
 
 " Nay, then, your blood be on your own head," cried the postman, and 
 raising his pistol again he pulled the trigger ; it flashed in the pan. Dashing 
 the weapon to the . ground, he pulled out the other in a moment, and aiming 
 it in Grizel's face, fired — with the same result. In a furious passion he flung 
 down this pistol, too, sprang from his horse, and dashed forward to seize her. 
 She dug her spurs into her horse's flank and just eluded his grasp. Meanwhile 
 the postman's horse, frightened at the noise and the struggle, had moved 
 forward a pace or two. The girl saw her opportunity, and seized it in the same 
 instant Another dig with the spurs, and her own horse was level with the 
 other ; leaning forward she caught at the bridle, and calling to the pair, in 
 an instant was galloping off along the highway, leaving the postman helplessly 
 
 itarmg. 
 
 She had gone about a hundred yards with her prize, when she pulled up 
 to look back. Her discomfited antagonist was still standing in the middle of 
 the road, apparently stupefied with amazement at the unlooked-for turn which 
 affairs had taken. Shouting to him to remember her advice about the wood, 
 she put both the horses to their speed, and on looking back once more was 
 gratified to find that the postman, impressed with the truth of her mysterious 
 threat, had turned and was making the best of his way back to Belford. 
 
 On gaining the wood to which she had pointed, Grizel tied the postman's 
 horse to a tree, at a safe distance from the road, and set about unfastening the 
 straps of the mail-bags. With a sharp penknife she ripped them open, and 
 searched for the Government despatches among their contents. To find these 
 was not difficult, owing to their address to the Council in Edinburgh, and 
 of the imposing weight of their seals. Here she discovered, not only the 
 warrant for her father's death but also many other sentences inflicting punish- 
 ment in varying degrees on the unhappy men who had been taken in the 
 late rising. Time was pressing ; she could not stop to examine the warrants, 
 but, quickly tearing them in small pieces, placed them carefully in her bosom. 
 
 This done, and having arranged all the private papers as far as possible as 
 she had found them, Grizel mounted her horse again and rode off. The 
 postman's horse and the mail-bags, she imagined, would soon be found, from 
 the hints which she had given to the man about the wood — and this after- 
 wards proved to be the case. She now set her horse at a gallop again, and 
 did not spare whip or spur until she reached the cottage of her nurse, where 
 her first care was to burn, not only the warrant for her father's death, but 
 the remainder of the sentences on his fellow-prisoners. Having satisfied herself 
 that all trace of the obnoxious papers was now consumed, she put on again 
 her female garments, and was once more the gentle and unassuming Miss 
 Grizel Cochrane. 
 
 It w^as high time, however, to be making her way northwards again ; ac- 
 
124 A DESPERATE ERRAND 
 
 cordingly she left her pistols and cloak to be concealed by the nurse, and again 
 set forward on her journey. By avoiding the high-road, resting only at the 
 most sequestered cottages — and then but for an hour or so — and riding all 
 the while as hard as she might, she reached Edinburgh in safety early next 
 morning. 
 
 It remains only to say that the time thus won by this devoted girl was 
 enough to gain the end for which she strove. Instigated by a bribe of ,£5,000 
 from Lord Dundonald, Father Peters plied the ear of King James so importu- 
 nately that at length the order was signed for Sir John Cochrane's pardon. 
 
 The state of public affairs rendered it prudent for many years that this 
 action of Grizel Cochrane's should be kept secret ; but after the Revolution, 
 when men could speak more freely, her heroism was known and applauded. 
 She lived to marry Mr. Ker, of Morriston, in Berwickshire, and doubtless w^as 
 as good a wife as she had proved herself a daughter. 
 
\t 
 
 135 
 
 A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA 
 
 4 
 
 •V2S 
 
 "GOOTUL, April ^ist. 
 NOTORIOUS old man-eating tigress, with four cubs, that has be( 
 
 the terror of the neighbourhood for some months back, was mark( 
 down this morning, and almost the whole population of the villaj 
 turned out to assist in her destruction. As she had the charact 
 of extreme ferocity, unusual precautions were taken in beating her up, ai 
 volleys of blank cartridge, with flights of rockets, W'ere thrown into every thii 
 place, far in advance of the beaters. 
 
 " The tigress was soon afoot, and our assistant mahout, who was posted ( 
 a tree to look out, held up five fingers to telegraph, while he shook wi 
 agitation on beholding the whole family passing close under him. ( 
 reaching the edge of the cover where we were posted, the tigress left her cu 
 behind, walked out into the plain, and boldly looked the elephant in the fac 
 laying her ears back, growling savagely, and curling up her whiskered lips wi 
 a look of indescribable ferocity. Every hair on her back stood erect, her loi 
 tail switched from side to side like that of an enraged cat, and her glowii 
 eyes were fixed upon us with a look of fiendish malignity. I never saw a mo 
 perfect representation of an incarnate fiend ; and I remained for some second 
 with my rifle poised, studying the magnificent picture which the scene presente 
 and feeling a sort of reluctance to put an end to it by firing the first shot. 
 
 " Every tree and rock was crowded with spectators, watching with anxio 
 looks anil beating hearts the issue of our contest with their deadly foe. Tl 
 wild yells of the beaters, the hissing of the rockets, and the rattle of fire-arir 
 had given place to an ominous silence, like that which precedes the outbre; 
 of a hurricane ; and no sound was heard save an occasional low, deep grov 
 which might well be compared to distant thunder that heralds the approachii 
 tempest. The tigress, in the attitude I have described, and our noble elepha 
 with his trunk carefully coiled up between his tusks, stood face to face, like tv 
 combatants who have just entered the lists and scan each other with jealo 
 looks before venturing to engage in mortal combat. 
 
 "The elephant took one step forward, and the tigress, uttering a hoar: 
 growl, drew herself together as if about to spring. It was now time to ac 
 and the report of our rifles was answered by an e.xulting shout from tl 
 spectators, as the tigress, hit in the point of the shoulder, rolled over, tearir 
 up the earth with her claws in many a fruitless effort to regain her footin 
 She at last succeeded in doing so, and slunk back into cover. This sh 
 decided her fate ; and to prevent any accident occurring to mar the spo 
 
126 A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA. 
 
 we anticipated when she was brought to close quarters, we ordered the spec- 
 tators and beaters to betake themselves to trees, where they would be fairly out 
 of reach. 
 
 " ' Anak' was now walked into the thicket, but we had hardly proceeded 
 twenty yards, when that harsh grating roar that makes the blood curdle, 
 followed by a despairing shriek, gave us dread warning that some unfortunate 
 beater had disregarded our caution, and fallen a victim to his temerity. A wild 
 cry of rage and execration arose from the assembled multitude, many of whom, 
 from their elevated positions, were enabled to witness the tragedy. But so far 
 from being awed by the fate of their companion, it was with some difficulty 
 that we prevented them from rushing in, sword in hand, and hewing the 
 tigress in pieces, although they well knew in so doing many lives must have 
 been sacrificed. 
 
 " Every exertion was now made to hurry the elephant to the spot. The 
 maho7it plied his iron goad, and the sagacious brute crashed his way through 
 the tangled brushwood to the scene of blood. The tigress, enraged by the pain 
 of her wounds, and roused to madness by the taste of blood, rushed out 
 and charged the elephant with determined bravery. Our large friend \vith the 
 trunk did not like it, and wheeling round with a scream of alarm, he shuffled 
 off at his best trot, jolting the howdah to such a degree that we found it im- 
 possible to fire, although the tigress was giving chase, open-mouthed, and close 
 at his haunches. 
 
 ''ThQ mahoiit at last succeeded in checking his pace to a certain degree, 
 and just as the tigress was about to spring on his croup, I took a snap shot, and 
 hit her. This made the savage old beast rather faint, and she lay down to 
 recover her breath. After some trouble, we succeeded in stopping the elephant, 
 and coaxed him into returning to stand another charge. 
 
 "The tigress lay perfectly still till we were within ten yards, when she 
 started up with a loud roar and made at us more savagely than ever. She 
 had hardly got upon her legs, however, when she was knocked over by a volley 
 from four barrels and completely doubled up. 
 
 " The elephant, whose nerves appeared to have been shaken by the first 
 charge, again turned tail. On returning, after having reloaded, we found the 
 tigress lying with her head between her paws, ready to receive us. We fired 
 at her as she was in the act of springing on the elephant's trunk, and a 
 lucky shot between the eyes rolled her over, dead. 
 
 " The fall of this noted tigress was hailed with shouts of triumph by the 
 amateurs who had watched the whole proceeding from their perches ; and a poor 
 little herd-boy, whose brother had been devoured a few days before by the tigress 
 and her cubs, was the first to descend and exult over the prostrate man-eater. 
 
 "As the cubs were described as not being larger than a pointer dog, we 
 commenced a hunt for them on foot, armed with swords ; but the little brutes 
 had concealed themselves so effectually that we could not find them. 
 
A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA. 12? 
 
 " The poor little herd-boy whose brother had been killed was twice before 
 attacked by this same tigress ; but a herd of fine large buffaloes which he 
 tended, headed by a sagacious old bull, came at his call and drove her off. He 
 was close to his brother when she seized him, and actually saw the tigress with 
 her four cubs feeding off the body. Unfortunately, on this occasion, the 
 buffaloes were grazing at some distance ; had they heard the boy's cries, or 
 seen the tigress, they would probably have charged, and beaten her back, for 
 they had been seen to attack her in a body several times when she ventured 
 into the open plain ; and the boy said he never feared a tiger so long as his 
 cattle were near him. 
 
 " The natives begged to be allowed to carry home the tigress after their 
 own fashion, and she was accordingly handed over to them to be dealt with as 
 they saw fit. 
 
 " Having carefully singed off the whiskers, with various superstitious cere- 
 monies, they placed the body of the tigress, ornamented with garlands of 
 flowers, upright on a cart, drawn by eight bullocks, and in this state dragged 
 her in procession through the village, preceded by a band of native musicians 
 and followed by a crowd of men, women, and children, exulting over the 
 remains of a deadly foe, and invoking blessings on our heads for having rid them 
 of her dreaded presence. 
 
 " Killing a tiger is at all times a satisfactory exploit. But the death of a 
 brute like this, such a pest while living, so game in her last moments, is 
 indeed a glorious victory. Were it not for the melancholy fate of the unfortunate 
 beater, I should say this is the most satisfactory day's sport I have yet seen in 
 India. An acccident of this sort is always a sad damper to one's feelings of 
 triumph ; but we have at least the satisfaction of thinking that it was 
 occasioned entirely by the poor fellow's own imprudence ; and that by ridding 
 the country of this dreadful scourge, we have probably been the means of 
 saving many human lives at the expense of one." 
 
♦<A SPLENDID BUT AWFUL SCENE I'RESENIEU ITSELF' 
 
 SAVED AT SEA 
 
 I — THE TALE OF THE " GEORGIAN 
 
 T was barely a fortnight since I had received my commission, in the 
 
 year 1807, as junior lieutenant of H.M.S. D , then on the India 
 
 station ( a vacancy having occurred in her under some puzzling 
 circumstances, unnecessary to describe here, which the Admiralty 
 decided on as bringing the appointment within their jurisdiction ), and along 
 
SAVED AT SEA. 129 
 
 with it a letter from Lord himself, containing a civil hint that if I intended 
 
 remaining in the service, and looked for future promotion, the sooner I was off 
 the better ; a postscript added that as Ihe Warren Hastings (Company's ship) 
 was appointed to carry out stores to St. Helena, and sailed in eight days, he 
 had kindly engaged a passage for me, thinking I should be " rather hurried " on 
 having such short notice to quit, and might not have time to see about it myself. 
 So, as there was no help for it, I sent my traps down to the ship, and joined 
 her myself at Northfleet Hope on the day after. We thence proceeded to the 
 Downs, and anchored in company with a fleet of about forty sail of West 
 
 Indiamen and five transports, under convoy of H.M.S. A , waiting for more 
 
 moderate weather and a favourable shift of wind. 
 
 Wishing to finish some letters, I left the cuddy rather early, and instead of 
 " dowsing my glim " when the master-at-arms came round at four bells, I sent 
 him up with a message to the officer of the deck, and continued writing away 
 in my cabin long after every one else had turned in, with the exception of the 
 anchor watch, whose quick heavy tramp on deck formed a sweet accompaniment 
 to the peppering of the rain against the sash, until, pen in hand, I fell into a 
 sound sleep, whence I was aroused by the sudden report of a gun upon the 
 larboard quarter, which I immediately concluded to be the commodore making 
 daylight, supposing that the fleet was no longer wind-rode, but had swung to 
 
 the ebb ; for when I came below, the A was lying on our starboard bow. 
 
 I was mistaken, however ; the gale was harder than before, and it wanted at 
 least five good hours of the time. 
 
 "Ready with the gun, there, for'ard — Fire! — Hand up the engine from 
 below ! — Call the captain ! — Pipe both cutters away ! " were the orders I heard 
 loudly issuing on board of us, followed by a rush up the hatchway ladders and 
 overhead, as if a man had fallen overboard. 
 
 " Hook the yard tackles ! — Turn the hands up ! — Out large cutter ! " thundered 
 forth the skipper, who was coming out from under the awning just as I reached 
 the top of the companion ; and in a very short time the boat was swinging in 
 mid-air, much to the discomfiture of the various live stock in the launch, if 
 one might judge from the Dutch concert they were kicking up at being with 
 so little ceremony unroofed. 
 
 I sprang into the hammock nettings, and looked around. A splendid but 
 an awful scene presented itself Broad on our larboard quarter lay the Georgian 
 transport ; the whole of one side, from the brake of the forecastle to the gang- 
 way, enveloped in a large sheet of flame, extending as high as her maintop, 
 and casting round a dazzling glare ; while the blue lights that were continually 
 burning throughout the fleet served to heighten the effect, by rendering all 
 our countenances as ghastly and spectral as though we had been inhabitants 
 of another world, suffered to burst the confines of the grave, and summoned, 
 during the warring of the elements, to gaze on the misery of the helpless 
 wretches whose fearful shrieks sounded appallingly, as they reached us at 
 
SMBD AT 
 
 . r V and picrcii^l7<fistiBcd7, and tiien again 
 
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 -g the 
 
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 wBaaiBj «» the look-cot far accidents amoi^st the 
 
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 rr xecermg' ptoaspt assist£r:t .nrr r.e King's 
 
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 ^- 
 
 had been sent back for the 
 faesfc h- - --.:-: z in getting oat anything that could 
 mmd Hz: : - zen of the tran^tort's men still 
 
 ^ E - -iless <rf dieir danger, and 
 
 ■- '-r. u . - "z-^^ech and starboard 
 
 T - r _ r ' ^Jar appearance. 
 
 - --i-t- ^__ oeen driven aft 
 
 their spreading much in 
 
 2 T . ' : . ringing came thundering 
 
 :, 1 - ' "o remain, would have 
 
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132 SAVED AT SEA. 
 
 had anything happened to capsize her bottom upwards, and cant us out, it would 
 have been but poor fun to know that she swam while we ourselves were sinking. 
 
 The lower rigging of the Indiaman was crowded as high, nearly, as the 
 futtock-shrouds. The eyes of all were intently fixed upon us ; and above two 
 hundred voices shouted in a breath, " Give v(^ay, my fine fellows! Give w-ay 
 shipmates — for your lives, give way ! " 
 
 But there was one on board that ship who, regarding our progress, shud- 
 dered at every wave that reared and threatened to overwhelm us and blast her 
 own fond hopes We saw her form bending over the hammock nettings, her 
 hands raised to heaven, and heard her voice through the roaring of the gale 
 as she fervently exclaimed, in a tone that I shall never forget to my dying 
 hour, " Bless ye, bless ye ! The Father o' the fatherless preserve ye in His 
 mercy ! Bless ye, bless ye ! " And had not another and a mightier Hand been 
 stretched forth upon the waters, vain w ould have been the courage or seaman- 
 ship of the best among us, officer or man. 
 
 There being six hands in the cutter besides Driver and O'Kasey, I let the 
 latter take the bow-oar, and, coiling up my legs, stowed myself away in the head- 
 sheets as comfortably as circumstances w'ould allow. When within a couple of 
 ships' lengths of the transport, we saw her mainmast, which was more than half 
 burned through, and entirely unsupported — the standing rigging being already 
 consumed or now burning — went with a tremendous crash; its scathed and 
 scorched topmast, entirely bare of rigging, save a mass of burning cordage just 
 below the cross-trees ( the flames of which were extinguished in their passage 
 through the air), was still on-end ; as the spar fell with its head aft, bearing a 
 little to the larboard hand, it regularly cut under the mizzen-topsail-yard, 
 shattering the top, striking the crossjack-yard with such violence as to carry 
 away the slings and bear it down by the run athwart the deck, and, 
 breaking through the old chafed and worn mizzen-rigging, like so much pack- 
 thread, it lighted on the taffrail ( which was ground and crushed in an instant 
 level with the deck), and there rested quietly, with its head projecting some 
 few feet over the stern. Not ten seconds after, a pale blue phosphoric light, 
 similar to that which sometimes settles on the flying-jibboom end or mast- 
 heads of ships within the tropics, sailed flickering along above the deck, and, 
 gradually descending as it travelled aft, finally took up its station on the main- 
 topmast-head, and. remaining stationary there, shone steadily out, as if to direct 
 us where to pull. 
 
 We were now rapidly ncaring the Georgian, and Driver, who was steering, 
 sang out to me to stand by with the boat-hook, and stave off floating pieces 
 of the wreck, lest we might get a hole knocked in the cutter's bows, at the 
 same time remarking she was pretty full of water as she was. 
 
 "Sure, thin, sor, hadn' we better be afther takin' out the plug and Icttin 
 it all rin.-*" exclaimed one of the men, a countryman of O'Kasey's, actually 
 putting his hand down and feeling for the cork. 
 
SAVED AT SEA. 
 
 iii 
 
 " Lave that plug alone ! " hastily roared the choleric old chap. 
 
 It required a quick eye and steady hand on the part of our coxswain 
 to avoid a bumping match, in which case we should most inevitably have come 
 off second-best ; but he handled the cutter beautifully, although more than 
 once she was very nearly thrown broadside-on to the sea, which I thoroughly 
 expected was going to make a clear 
 breach over all, and send us to Davy 
 Jones at once. O'Kasey volunteered 
 to board the transport, if the boat's 
 head were brought right underneath 
 the fallen spar, so that he could 
 scramble up by the tangled maze ot 
 rigging which remained. I agreed 
 to follow him. He kicked off his 
 shoes ; I tried to do the same with 
 mine ; but they were originally a 
 tight fit, and from being successively 
 soaked, scorched, and wetted again, 
 stuck to my feet as though they had 
 been nailed on, and, something like 
 the negro's pig, the more I pulled the 
 more they wouldn't come. "I'll cut' 
 em for you," said O'Kasey, and 
 suiting the action to the word he 
 succeeded in divesting me of these 
 dangerous appendages, at the 
 expense of having the point of the 
 knife run about half an inch into my 
 great toe. It was no time to stand 
 upon trifles, however. 
 
 " There you are, boys — ^jump while 
 you may, and catch like cats," was the exhortation we received from Driver. 
 
 O'Kasey shut his eyes, and, stepping to the gunwale, bounded lightly off like 
 a Dublin harlequin ; but I kept mine wide open, and, singling out a rope, made 
 a desperate spring upwards. One convulsive clutch, a strenuous exertion of my 
 arms, and I was astride the spar and on the transport's deck in the course of 
 half a minute. 
 
 A great oversight had been undoubtedly committed by us all, in not 
 ascertaining as to where there existed the greatest probability of finding the 
 child, before we left the ship. Luckily, we espied it under the lee of one of 
 the carronades, where it had been left and forgotten in the hurry of the 
 moment, wrapped in a blanket, unhurt by the fall of the mast, and soundly 
 sleeping amid the roaring of a gale which blew loud enough to wake the dead. 
 
 " 'HOULD THE BABBY, THIN ! ' " 
 
134 SAVED AT SEA. 
 
 " Can you swim ?" said O'Kasey to me. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Arrah, hould the babby, thin ! " 
 
 " Can you ? " 
 
 " Divvle a sthroke ! " replied he, and running out to the mast-head he fear- 
 lessly flung himself overboard, trusting to the men in the cutter to pick him up- 
 
 I looked round for a grating to lash the child to, in case of anything 
 happening to myself, but none was to be found ; and as I was nearly scorched 
 to death with the flames, and suffocated with the smoke, I lost no time in 
 following the young Irishman's example ; and, providentially, we were all three 
 hooked out and hauled into the cutter without any material damage. 
 
 How we ever got near the Indiaman again, God knows. Even as it was, 
 we fetched a good half-cable's length astern of her. The other ships were still 
 farther to windward, so she was our only chance, and a very poor one, too — at 
 least, I thought so. 
 
 The men were terribly winded ; the boat was half-full of water, which, of 
 course, made it so much the heavier to pull. It was perfectly impossible to 
 bale any of it out, for the biggin was anywhere but where it ought to have 
 been ; and as to hats — it was a matter of thankfulness that the hair itself was 
 not blown off our heads. 
 
 In this dilemma the same bright idea again struck the acute Irishman, and 
 laying his oar across for a moment he addressed himself to Driver with " The 
 plug y'r honour!" But the chief mate was still inexorable ; and, instead of 
 making any headway, we could now barely hold our own. 
 
 Captain S had, however, provided against such an emergency on board 
 
 the Indiaman. Some coir rope was stopped with a bit of spun-yarn to the life- 
 buoy, having a spare end of from ten to fifteen fathoms long, the rest being 
 coiled clear away on the hen-coops in readiness for veering. The lanyard of the 
 buoy was then cut — sufficent scope of stray line being first paid out to allow 
 it to reach the water and drift away without checking — when it came floating 
 down to us in glorious style. The end of the coir, which was floating on the 
 surface, and waving about like a snake, was easily caught hold of, and a pretty 
 severe turn taken with it round one of the hawsers. A hawser, which was then 
 sent down to us by means of a snatch-block, with a couple of double-headed 
 shots slung to the hook to keep it steady and accelerate its progress in travel- 
 ling, was also made fast, and the end on board ( of which there was barely 
 enough) being brought to the capstan, " Heave ho ! " was the word, and away 
 went the cutter, foaming and flashing through the waves. 
 
 Had not the boat been well and strongly built, she would have been torn 
 and riven, as O'Kasey expressed it, "into smithereens ;" for long before we 
 were under ship's stern, the water was up to the rowlocks, and more than 
 once we were literally dragged right under a sea, but — thanks to the lockers — 
 with no further damage than a few good salt-water duckings ; and at last we 
 
SAVED AT SEA. 135 
 
 had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing the child run up to the driver-boom 
 end in a basket, and restored alive to the arms of its mother, who was craning 
 over the taffrails in almost frantic ecstasy. 
 
 Thank God ! The deck of the Warren Hastings was soon once more 
 beneath our feet ; and wet and exhausted as I was, I neither stayed to hear 
 
 the fine speech Captain S had prepared for us on the occasion, nor the 
 
 flattering encomiums of the lady passengers — many of whom were up in the 
 cuddy at the time, shedding tears enough to float a jolly-boat ; but staggering 
 down to my cabin, after fortifying the inward man, I rubbed the outward dry, 
 and, stripping the sheets off my cot, turned in between the blankets and fell 
 
 fast asleep, just as the morning-gun of the A boomed over the water, 
 
 announcing to the fleet that daylight had already broke. 
 
 II. AN ADVENTURE IN THE " ENDYMION. 
 
 On the 13th of October, 181 1, we were cruising in the Endymion, off the north 
 of Ireland, in a fine clear day succeeding one in which it had almost blown a 
 hurricane. The master had just taken his meridian observation, the officer of 
 the watch had reported the latitude, the captain had ordered it to be made 
 twelve o'clock, and the boatswain, catching a word from the lieutenant, was in 
 the full swing of his " Pipe to dinner ! " when the captain called out — 
 
 "Stop ! stop ! 1 meant to go about first." 
 
 " Pipe belay ! Mr. King," smartly ejaculated the officer of the watch, addressing 
 the boatswain ; which words, being heard over the decks, caused a sudden 
 cessation of the sounds peculiar to that hungry season The cook stood with 
 a huge six-pound piece of pork uplifted on his tormentors, his mate ceased to 
 bale out the pea-soup, and the whole ship seemed paralysed. The boatswain, 
 having checked himself in the middle of his long-winded dinner-tune, drew a 
 fresh inspiration, and dashed off into the opposite sharp, abrupt, cutting sound 
 of the " Pipe belay ! " the essence of which peculiar note is that its sounds 
 should be understood and acted on with the utmost degree of promptitude. 
 
 There was now a dead pause of perfect silence all over the ship, in ex- 
 pectation of what was to come next. All eyes were turned to the chief. 
 
 "No ; never mind, we'll wait," cried the good-natured captain, unwilling to 
 interfere with the comforts of the men ; " let them go to dinner ; we shall tack 
 at one o'clock, it will do just as well." 
 
 The boatswain, at a nod from the lieutenant of the watch, at once re-com- 
 menced his merry " Pipe to dinner" notes; upon which a loud, joyous laugh 
 rang from one end of the ship to the other. This hearty burst was not in the 
 slightest degree disrespectful ; on the contrary, it sounded like a grateful 
 expression of glee at the prospect of the appoaching good things which, by this 
 time, were finding their speedy course down the hatchways. 
 
136 SAVED AT SEA. 
 
 Nothing was now heard but the cheerful chuckle of a well-fed company, 
 the clatter of plates and knives, and the chit-chat of light hearts under the 
 influence of temperate excitement. 
 
 When one o'clock came, the hands were called "About ship ! " But as the 
 helm was in the very act of going down, the look-out-man at the fore-topmast 
 head called out — 
 
 " I see something a little on the lee-bow, sir ! " 
 
 ** Something ! What do you mean by ' something ' ? " cried the first lieutenant, 
 making a motion to the quarter-master at the con to right the helm again. 
 
 " I don't know what it is, sir," cried the man ; "it is black, however." 
 
 " Black ! Is it like a whale ? " asked the officer, playing a little with his duty_ 
 
 " Yes, sir,'' cried the the look-out-man, unconscious that Shakespeare had been 
 before him, " very like a whale ! " 
 
 The captain and the officer exchanged glances at the poor fellow aloft having 
 fallen into the trap laid for him, and the temptation must have been great to 
 have inquired whether it were not " like a weasel ; " but this might have been 
 stretching the jest too far ; so the lieutenant merely called to the signal mid- 
 shipman, and desired him to skull up to the mast-head with his glass, to see 
 what he made of the look-out-man's whale. 
 
 "It looks like a small rock," cried young " Skylark" as soon as he reached 
 the top-gallant-yard and had taken the glass from his shoulders, across which 
 he had slung it with a three-yarn fox. 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense !" replied the officers, "there are no rocks hereabouts ; 
 we can but just see the top of Muckish, behind Tory Island. Take another 
 spy at your object, youngster ; the mast-head-man and you will make it out 
 to be something by-and-by, between you, I dare say." 
 
 " It's a boat, sir ! " roared out the boy. " It's a boat adrift, two or three 
 points on the lee-bow." 
 
 " Oh-ho ! " said the officer, "that may be, sir," turning with an interrogative 
 air to the captain, who gave orders to keep the frigate away a little that this 
 strange-looking affair might be investigated. Meanwhile, as the ship was not 
 to be tacked, the watch was called, and one half only of the people remained 
 on deck. The rest strolled, sleepy, below ; or disposed themselves in the sun 
 on the lee gangway, mending their clothes, or telling long yarns. 
 
 A couple of fathoms of the fore and main sheets, and a slight touch of the 
 weather topsail and topgallant braces, with a check on the bow-lines, made the 
 swift-footed Endymion spring forward, like a greyhound slipped from the 
 leash. In a short time we made out that the object we were in chase of was, 
 in fact, a boat. On approaching a little nearer, some heads of people became 
 visible, and then several figures stood up, waving their hats to us. We brought 
 to, just to windward of them, and sent a boat to see what was the matter. 
 
 It turned out as we supposed ; they had belonged to a ship which had 
 foundered in the recent gale. Although their vessel had become water-logged, 
 
'SEVERAI, FIGURES STOOP U^" (p. 136.) 
 
IjS SAVED AT SEA. 
 
 they had contrived to hoist their long-boat out, and to stow in her twenty- 
 one persons, some of them seamen and some passengers ; of these, two were 
 women, and three children. Their vessel, it appeared, had sprung a leak in 
 middle of the gale, and, in spite of all their pumping, the water gained so fast 
 upon them that they took to baling as a more effectual method After a time, 
 when this resource failed, the men, totally worn out and quite dispirited, gave 
 it up as a bad job, abandoned their pumps, and actually lay down to sleep. In 
 the morning the gale broke ; but the ship had filled in the meantime, and was 
 falling fast over her broadside. With some some difficulty they disentangled the 
 long-boat from the wreck, and thought themselves fortunate in being able to 
 catch hold of a couple of small oars, with a studding-sail-boom for a mast, on 
 which they hoisted a fragment of their main-hatchway tarpaulin for a sail. 
 One ham and three gallons of water were all the provisions they were able to 
 secure ; and in this fashion they were set adrift on the wide sea The master 
 of the ship, with two gentlemen who were passengers, preferred to stick by the 
 vessel while there was any part of her above water. This, at least, was the 
 story told us by the people we picked up 
 
 The wind had been fair for the shore when the long-boat left the wreck, 
 and though their ragged sail scarcely drove them along, their oars were only 
 just sufficient to keep the boat's head the right way Of course they made 
 but slow progress ; so that when they rose on the top of a swell, which was 
 still very long and high in consequence of the gale, they could only just discover 
 the distant land, Muckish, a remarkable flat-topped mountain on the north- 
 west coast of Ireland, not very far from the promontory called the Bloody 
 Foreland. 
 
 There appeared to have been little discipline among this forlorn crew, even 
 when the breeze was in their favour ; but when the wind chopped round, and 
 blew off shore, they gave themselves up to despair, laid in their oars, let the sail 
 flap to pieces, gobbled up all their provisions, and drank out their whole stock of 
 water. Meanwhile the boat, which had been partially stove, in the confusion of 
 clearing the ship, began to fill with water ; and, as they all admitted afterwards, 
 if it had not been for the courage and patience of the women under this sharp 
 trial, they must have gone to the bottom. 
 
 As it was both cold and rainy, the poor children, who were too young to 
 understand the nature of their situation, or the inutility of complaining, in- 
 cessantly cried out for water, and begged that more clothes might be wrapped 
 round them. Even after they came to us the little things were still crying, 
 " Oh ! do give us some water" — words which long sounded in our ears. None 
 of these women were by any means strong — on the contrary, one of them 
 seemed to be very delicate ; yet they managed to rouse the men to a sense of 
 their duty by a mixture o<" reproaches and entreaties, combined with the 
 example of that singular fortitude which often gives more than masculine 
 vigour to female minds in seasons of danger. How long this might have lasted 
 
SAVED AT SEA. 139 
 
 I cannot say ; but probably the strength of the men, however stimulated, 
 must have given way before night, especially as the wind freshened, and the 
 boat was driving further to sea. Had it not been for the accident of the officer 
 of the forenoon watch on board the Endymion being unaware of the captain's 
 intention to tack before dinner, these poor people, most probably, would all 
 have perished. 
 
 The women, dripping wet, and scarcely capable of moving hand or foot, 
 were lifted up the side, in a state almost of stupor ; for they were confused 
 by the hurry of the scene, and their fortitude had given way the moment all 
 high motive to exertion was over. One of them, on reaching the quarter-deck, 
 slipped through our hands, and falling on her knees, wept violently as she 
 returned thanks for such a wonderful deliverance ; but her thoughts were 
 bewildered, and, fancying that her child was lost, she struck her hands 
 together, and leaping again on her feet, screamed out, " Oh ! where's my bairn 
 — my wee bairn .-' " 
 
 At this instant a hugh quarter-master, whose real name or nickname ( I 
 forget which) was Billy Magnus, and who was reported to have no fewer tlian 
 five wives, and goodness knows how many children, appeared over the gangway 
 hammocks, holding the missing urchin in his immense paw, where it squealed 
 and twisted itself about, like Gulliver between the finger and thumb of the 
 Brobdignag farmer. The mother had just strength enough left to snatch 
 her offspring from Billy, when she sank down flat on the deck, completely 
 exhausted. 
 
 By means of a fine blazing fire, and plenty of hot tea, toast, and eggs, it 
 was easy to remedy one class of these poor people's wants ; but how to rig 
 them out in dry clothes was a puzzle, till the captain bethought him of a 
 resource which answered very well. He sent to several of the officers for their 
 dressing-gowns ; and these, together with supplies from his own wardrobe, made 
 capital gowns and petticoats — at least, till the more fitting drapery of the ladies 
 was dried. The children were tumbled into bed in the same compartment, close 
 to the fire ; and it would have done any one's heart good to have witnessed 
 the style in which the provisions vanished from the board, while the women 
 wept, prayed, and laughed, by turns. 
 
 The rugged seamen, when taken out of the boat, showed none of these 
 symptoms of emotion, but running instinctively to the scuttle-butt, asked 
 eagerly for a drop of water. As the most expeditious method of feeding and 
 dressing them, they were distributed among the different messes, one to each, 
 as far as they went. Thus they were all soon provided with dry clothing, and 
 with as much to eat as they could stow away ; for the doctor, when consulted, 
 said they had not fasted so long as to make it dangerous to give them as much 
 food as they were disposed to swallow. With the exception of the ham devoured 
 in the boat, and which, after all, was but a mouthful apiece, they had tasted 
 nothing for more than thirty hours ; so that, I suppose, better justice was never 
 
X40 
 
 SAVED AT SEA. 
 
 done to His Majesty's beef, pork, bread, and other good things, with which our 
 follows insisted on stuffing the new-comers, till they fairly cried out for mercy 
 and begged to be allowed a little sleep. 
 
 Possibly some of as were more disposed to sympathise with the distress of 
 these people when adrift in their open boat on the wide sea, from having 
 ourselves, about a month before, been pretty much in the same predicament. 
 It always adds, as any one knows, greatly to our consideration for the difficulties 
 and dangers of others, to have recently felt some touch of similar distress in 
 our own persons. This maxim, though it is familiar enough, makes so little 
 impression on our ordinary thoughts, that when circumstances occur to fix our 
 attention closely upon it we are apt to arrive as suddenly at the perception of 
 its truth as if it were a new discovery. 
 
"'ARE ANY OF YOU MARRIED MEN?' " 
 
 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 The Narrative of Philip Ashton. 
 
 M Friday, the 15th of June, 1722, after being out some time in a 
 schooner with four men and a boy, off Cape Sable, I stood in for Port 
 Rosa, designing to lie there all Sunday. Having arrived about four 
 in the afternoon, we saw, among other vessels which had reached 
 the port before us, a brigantine, supposed to be inward bound from the West 
 Indies. We had not remained more than three or (our hours at anchor when a 
 boat from the brigantine came alongside, with four hands, who leaped on deck, 
 and suddenly drawing out pistols and brandishing cutlasses, demanded the 
 surrender both of ourselves and our vessel. All remonstrance was vain; nor, 
 indeed, had we known who they were before boarding us, could we have made 
 any effectual resistance, being only five men and a boy, and were thus under the 
 necessity of submitting at discretion. We were not single in misfortune, as 
 thirteen or fourteen fishing vessels were in like manner surprised the same 
 evening. 
 
 When carried on board the brigantine, I found myself in the hands of Nee 
 Low, an infamous pirate, whose vessel had two great guns, four swivels, and 
 about forty-two men. I was strongly urged to sign the articles of agreement 
 among the pirates, and to join their number, which I steadily refused, and 
 
142 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 suffered much bad usage in consequence. At length we were conducted along 
 with five of the prisoners to the quarter-deck ; and Low, coming up to us 
 with pistol in his hands, louldly demanded, "Are any of you married men?" 
 This unexpected question, added to the sight of the pistols, struck us all 
 speechless. We were alarmed least there was some secret meaning in his words, 
 and that he would proceed to extremities ; therefore none could reply. 
 
 In a violent passion he cocked a pistol, and clapping it to my head, cried 
 out, " You dog ! why don't you answer ? " swearing vehemently at the same time 
 that he would shoot me through the head. I was sufficiently terrified by his 
 threats and fierceness ; but rather than lose my life in so trifling a matter I 
 ventured to pronounce, as loud as I durst speak, that I was not married. 
 Hereupon he seemed to be somewhat pacified, and turned away. It appeared 
 that Low was resolved to take no married men whatever, which often seemed 
 surprising to me, until I had been a considerable time with him. But his own 
 wife had died lately, before he became a pirate, and he had a young child at 
 Boston, for whom he entertained such tenderness that at every lucid interval 
 from drinking and revelling, on mentioning it I have seen him sit down and 
 weep plentifully. Thus I concluded that his reason for taking only single men 
 was probably that they might have no ties such as wives and children to divert 
 them from his service and render them desirous of returning home. 
 
 The pirates, finding force of no avail in compelling us to join them, began to 
 use persuasion instead. They tried to flatter me into compliance by setting before 
 me the share I should have in their spoils, and the riches which I should become 
 master of; and all the time eagerly importuned me to drink along with them. 
 But I still continued to resist their proposals ; whereupon Low, with equal fury 
 as before, threatened to shoot me through the head ; and though I earnestly 
 entreated my release, he and his people wrote my name and those of my 
 companions in their books. 
 
 On the 19th of June the pirates changed the Privateer, as they called their 
 vessel, and went into a new schooner belonging to Marblehead, which they had 
 captured. They then put all the prisoners whom they designed sending home 
 on board of the brigantine, and sent her to Boston. This induced me to make 
 another unsuccessful attempt for liberty ; but though I fell on my knees before 
 Low he refused to let me go. 
 
 Thus I saw the brigantine depart with all the captives, excepting myself and 
 seven more. A short time before she departed I had nearly effected my escape ; 
 for a dog belonging to Low being accidentally left on shore, he ordered some 
 hands in a boat to bring it off. Thereupon two young men, captives, both 
 belonging to Marblehead, readily leaped into the boat ; and I, considering that 
 if once I could get on shore, means might be found of effecting my escape, 
 endeavored to go along with them. But the quarter-master, called Russel, 
 catching hold of my shoulder, drew me back. 
 
 As the young men did not return, he thought I was privy to the plot ; and 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 143 
 
 with the most outrageous oaths snapped his pistol at me on my denying all 
 knowledge of it. The pistol missing fire, however, only served to enrage him 
 the more. He snapped it three times again and as often it missed fire ; on 
 which he held it overboard, and then it went off. Russel on this .drew his 
 cutlass, and was about to attack me with the utmost fury, when I leaped down 
 into the hold and saved myself. 
 
 Off St. Michel's the pirates took a large Portuguese pink, laden with wheat, 
 coming out of the road ; and finding her a good sailer, and that she carried 
 fourteen guns, transferred their company into her. It afterwards became 
 necessary to carreen her, whence they made three islands, called the Triangles, 
 lying about forty leagues to the eastward of Surinam. In heaving down the 
 pink, Low had ordered so many men to the shrouds and yards that the 
 ports, by her heeling, got under water, and, the sea rushing in, she over-set. 
 
 Low, with the doctor, was in the cabin at the time, and as soon as he 
 observed the water gushing in, he leaped out of one of the stern ports, while 
 the doctor attempted to follow him ; but the violence of the sea repulsed the 
 latter, and he was forced back into the cabin. Low, however, contrived to 
 thrust his arm into the port, and, dragging him out, saved his life. Meanwhile 
 the vessel completely over-set ; her keel turned out of the water, and as the 
 hull filled, she sank in the depth of about six fathoms. The yard-arms 
 striking the ground, forced the masts somewhat above the water. 
 
 As the ship over-set, the people got from the shrouds and yards upon the 
 hull ; and as the hull went down, they again resorted to the rigging, rising a 
 little out of the sea. Being an indifferent swimmer, I was reduced to great 
 extremity, for along with other light lads I had been sent up to the maintop- 
 gallant yard ; and the people of a boat who were now occupied in preserving 
 the men, refusing to take me in, I was compelled to attempt reaching the 
 buoy. This I luckily accomplished, and, as it was large, secured myself there 
 until the boat aproached. 
 
 I once more requested the people to take me in, but they still refused, as 
 the boat was full. I was uncertain whether they designed leaving me to perish 
 in this situation ; however, the boat, being deeply laden, made way very slowly, 
 and one of my own comrades, captured at the same time with myself, calling 
 to me to forsake the buoy and swim towards her, I assented, and reaching 
 the boat, was drawn on board by him. Two men, John Bell and Zana Gourdon, 
 were lost in the pink. Though the schooner in company was very near at 
 hand, her people were employed mending their sails under an awning, and 
 knew nothing of the accident until the boat full of men got alongside. 
 
 The pirates having thus lost their principal vessel, and the greatest part of 
 their provisions and water, were reduced to great extremities for want of the 
 latter. They were unable to get a supply at the Triangles ; nor, on account of 
 calms and currents, could they make the Island of Tobago. Thus they were 
 forced to stand for Grenada, which they reached after being on short allowance 
 
144 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 for sixteen days together. Grenada was a French settlement ; and Low on 
 arriving, after having sent all his men below, except a sufficient number to 
 manoeuvre the vessel, said he was from Barbadoes, that he had lost the water 
 on board, and was obliged to put in there for a supply. 
 
 The people entertained no suspicion of his being a pirate ; but afterwards 
 supposing him a smuggler, thought it a good opportunity to make a prize of 
 his vessel. Next day, therefore, they equipped a large sloop of seventy tons 
 and four guns, with about thirty hands, as sufficient for the capture, and came 
 alongside, while Low was quite unsuspicious of their design. But this being 
 evidently betrayed by their number and actions, he quickly called ninety men on 
 deck, and, having eight guns mounted, made an easy prey of the French sloop. 
 
 Provided with these two vessels, the pirates cruised about in the West Indies, 
 taking seven or eight prizes, and at length arrived at the island of Santa Cruz^ 
 where they captured two more. After lying there for some days we sailed for 
 the Spanish American settlements. The pirates descried two large ships about 
 half-way between Carthagena and Portobello, which proved to be the Mermaid, 
 an English man-of-war, and a Guineaman. We approached in chase, but, dis- 
 covering the man-of-war's great range of teeth, immediately put about, and made 
 the best of our way off. 
 
 The man-of-war then began the pursuit ; and I confess that my terrors were 
 now equal to any that I had previously suffered ; for I concluded that we should 
 certainly be taken and that I should no less certainly be hanged for company's 
 sake — so true are the words of Solomon, "a companion of fools shall be 
 destroyed." But the two pirate vessels, finding themselves outsailed, separated ; 
 and Farrington Spriggs, who commanded the schooner in which I was, stood in 
 for the shore. The Mermaid, observing Low's sloop to be the larger of the 
 two crowded all sail, and continued gaining still more — indeed, until her shot 
 flew over the vessel ; but one of the sloop's crew showed Low a shoal which he 
 could pass, and in the pursuit the man-of-war grounded. Thus the pirates escaped 
 hanging on this occasion. Spriggs and one of his chosen companions, dreading 
 the consequences of being captured and brought to justice, laid their pistols 
 beside them in the interval, and pledging a mutual oath in a bumper of liquor, 
 swore, if they saw no possibility of escape, to set foot to foot and blow out 
 each other's brains. But standing towards the shore they made Pickeroon Bay 
 and escaped the danger. 
 
 Next we repaired to a small island called Utilla, about seven or eight leagues 
 to leeward of the island of Roatan, in the Bay of Honduras, where the bottom 
 of the schooner was cleaned. There were now twenty-two persons on board, and 
 eight of us engaged in a plot to overpower our masters and make our escape. 
 Spriggs proposed sailing for New England in quest of provisions, and to increase 
 his company ; and we intended, on approaching the coast, when the rest had 
 indulged freely in liquor and fallen sound asleep, to secure them under the 
 hatches and then deliver ourselves up to Government. 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 145 
 
 Although our plot was carried on with all possible privacy, Spriggs had 
 somehow or other got intelligence of it, and having fallen in with Low on the 
 voyage, went on board his ship to make a furious declaration agaiust us. But 
 Low made little account of his information, otherwise it might have been fatal 
 to most of our number. Spriggs, however, returned raging to the schooner, ex- 
 claiming that four of us should go forward to be shot ; and to me in particular 
 he said, "You dog, Ashton, you deserve to be hanged up to the yard-arm for 
 designing to cut us off." I replied that I had no intention of injuring any 
 man on board, but I should be glad if they would allow me to go away 
 quietly. At length this flame was quenched, and through the goodness of God 
 I escaped destruction. 
 
 Roatan Harbor, like all about the Bay of Honduras, is full of small islands, 
 which pass under the general name of " Keys ;" and having got in there, Low, 
 with some of his chief men, landed on a small island which they called "Port 
 Royal Key." There they erected huts, and continued carousing, drinking, and 
 firing, while the different vessels of which they now had possession were repairing^ 
 
 On Saturday, the 9th of March, 1723, the cooper and six hands were going 
 ashore in the long-boat for water ; and on their coming alongside of the 
 schooner, I requested to be of the party. The cooper hesitated. I urged that 
 I had never hitherto been ashore, and thought it hard to be so closely confined 
 when every one besides had the liberty of landing when there was occasion. 
 Low had before told me that I should go home when he did, and swore that 
 I should never previously set my foot on land. But now I considered, if I 
 could possibly once get on terra Jirma, though in ever so bad circumstances, 
 I should count it a happy deliverance, and resolved never to embark again. 
 
 The cooper at length took me into the long-boat. Low and his chief people 
 were on a different island from Roatan, where the watering-place lay. My only 
 clothing was an Osnaburg frock and trousers, a milled cap, but neither shirt, 
 shoes, stockings, nor anything else. 
 
 When we first landed, I was very active in assisting to get the casks out 
 of the boat, and in rolling them to the watering-place. Then, taking a hearty 
 draught of water, I strolled along the beach, picking up stones and shells. On 
 reaching the distance of musket-shot from the party, I began to withdraw 
 towards the skirts of the woods. In answer to a question by the cooper as to 
 whither I was going, I replied, " For cocoa-nuts," as some cocoa-trees were just 
 before me ; but as soon as I was out of sight of my companions I took to my 
 heels, running as fast as the thickness of the bushes and my naked feet 
 would admit. 
 
 Notwithstanding I had got considerable way into the woods, I was still so 
 near as to hear the voices of the party if they spoke loudly, and I therefore 
 hid in a thicket where I knew they could not find me. After my comrades 
 had filled their casks, and were about to depart, the cooper called out to me to 
 accompany them ; however, I lay snug in the thicket, and gave him no answer, 
 
146 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 though his words were plain enough. At length, after hallooing, I could hear 
 them say to one another, " The dog is lost in the woods and cannot find the 
 way out again." Then they hallooed once more, and cried, " He has run away 
 and won't come to us ; " and the cooper observed that had he known my 
 intention, he would not have brought me ashore. 
 
 Satisfied of their inability to find me among the trees and bushes, the cooper 
 at last, to show his kindness, exclaimed, " If you do not come away presently 
 I shall go off and leave you alone." Nothing, however, could induce me to 
 discover myself ; and my comrades, seeing it vain to wait any longer, put off 
 without me. 
 
 Thus I was left on a desolated island, destitute of all help, and remote from 
 the track of navigators ; but compared with the state and society I had quitted, 
 I considered the wilderness hospitable, and the solitude interesting. 
 
 When I thought the whole were gone, I emerged from my thicket and 
 came down to a small run of water, about a mile from the place where our 
 casks were filled, and there sat down to observe the proceedings of the 
 pirates. To my great joy, in five days their vessels sailed, and I saw the 
 schooner part from them to shape a different course. I then began to reflect 
 on myself and my present condition. I was on an island which I had no means 
 of leaving; I knew of no human being within many miles; my clothing was • t 
 
 scanty, and it was impossible to procure a supply ; I was altogether destitute 
 of provisions, nor could I tell how my life was to be supported. This melancholy 
 prospect drew a copious flood of tears from my eyes ; but as it had pleased 
 God to grant my wishes in being liberated from those whose occupation was the 
 devising mischief against their neighbors, I resolved to account every hardship 
 light. Yet Low would never suffer his men to work on the Sabbath, which 
 was more devoted to play ; and I have even seen some of them sit down to 
 to read in a good book. 
 
 In order to ascertain how I was to live in time to come, I began to range 
 over the island, which proved ten or eleven leagues long. But I soon found 
 that my only companions would be the beasts of the earth and the fowls of the 
 air ; for there were no indications of any habitations on the island, though 
 every now and then I found some shreds of earthenware scattered in a lime- 
 walk, said by some to be the remains of Indians formerly dwelling here. 
 
 The island was well watered, full of high hills and deep valleys. Numerous 
 fruit-trees, such as figs, vines, and cocoanut, are found in the latter ; and I 
 found a kind larger than an orange, oval-shaped, of a brownish color without 
 and red within. Though many of these had fallen under the trees, I could 
 not venture to take them until I saw the hogs feeding with safety, and then 
 I found them very delicious fruit. 
 
 Stores of provisions abounded here, though I could avail myself of nothing 
 but the fruit ; for I had no knife or iron implement, either to cut up a 
 tortoise on turning it, or as weapons wherewith to kill animals. Nor had I 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 147 
 
 any means of making a fire to cook my capture, even if I were successful. 
 Sometimes I entertained thoughts of digging pits and covering them over with 
 small branches of trees, for the purpose of taking hogs and deer ; but I wanted 
 a shovel and every substitute for the purpose, and I was soon convinced that 
 my hands were insufficient to make a cavity deep enough to retain what 
 should fall into it. Thus I was forced to rest satisfied with fruit, which was 
 to be esteemed very good provision for any one in my condition. 
 
 
 ■I FOUND NEARLY A HUNDRKD AND FIFTY TORTOISE'S EGGS." 
 
 In process of time, while poking among the sand with a stick in quest o' 
 tortoise's eggs — which I had heard were laid in the sand — part of one came up 
 adhering to it ; and on removing the sand I found nearly a hundred and fifty, 
 which had not lain long enough to spoil. Therefore, taking some, I ate them, 
 and strung others on a strip of palmetto, which, being hung up in the sun, 
 became thick and somewhat hard, so that they were more palatable. After all, 
 they were not very savory food ; yet, having nothing but what fell from the 
 trees, I remained contented. Tortoises lay their eggs in the sand in holes about 
 a foot or a foot and a half deep, and smooth the surface over them, so that 
 there is no discovering where they lie. According to the best of my obser- 
 vation, the young are hatched in eighteen or twenty days, and then immediately 
 take to the water. 
 
148 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 Many serpents are on this and the adjacent islands ; one, about twelve or 
 fourteen feet long, is as large as a man's waist, but not poisonous. When lying 
 at length, they look like old trunks of trees covered with short moss, though 
 they usually assume a circular position. The first time I ever saw one of these 
 serpents, I had approached very near before discovering it to be a living 
 creature ; it opened its mouth wide enough to have received a hat, and breathed 
 on me. A small black fly creates such annoyance that, even if a person pos- 
 sessed ever so many comforts, his life would be oppressive to him, unless for 
 the possibility of retiring to some small Key destitute of wood and bushes, 
 where multitudes are dispersed by the wind. 
 
 To this place, then, was I confined during nine months without seeing a 
 human being. One day after another was lingered out, I know not how, void 
 of occupation or amusement except collecting food, rambling from hill to hill, 
 and gazing on sky and water. Although my mind was occupied by many 
 regrets, I had the reflection that I was lawfully employed when taken, so that 
 I had no hand in bringing misery on myself. I was also comforted to think that I 
 had the approbation and consent of my parents in going to sea ; and I trusted 
 that it would please God, in His own time and manner, to provide for my return to 
 my father's house. Therefore I resolved to submit patiently to my misfortune. 
 
 It was my daily practice to ramble from one part of the island to another, 
 though I had a more special home near the waterside. Here I built a hut, to 
 defend me against the sun by day, and heavy dews by night. Taking some 
 of the best branches that I could find fallen from the trees, I contrived to fix 
 them against a low hanging bough, by fastening them together with split 
 palmetto-leaves ; next I covered the whole with some of the largest and most 
 suitable leaves that I could get. Many of these huts were constructed by me, 
 generally near the beach, with the open part fronting the sea, to have the 
 better look-out and the advantage of the sea-breeze, which both the heat and 
 the vermin required. But the insects were so troublesome that I thought of 
 endeavoring to get over to some of the adjacent Keys, in hopes of enjoying 
 rest. However, I was, as already said, a very indifferent swimmer ; 1 had no 
 canoe, nor any means of making one. At length, having got a piece of bamboo, 
 I ventured, after frequent trials with it under my breast and arms, to put off 
 for a small Key about a gunshot distant, which I reached in safety. 
 
 My new place of refuge was only about three or four hundred feet in circuit, 
 lying very low and clear of wood and brush ; from exposure to the wind it was 
 quite free of vermin, and I seemed to have got into a new world, where I lived 
 infinitely more at case. Hither I retired, therefore, when the heat of the day 
 rendered the insects most obnoxious. Yet I was obliged to be much on Roatan, 
 to procure food and water ; and at night, on account of my hut. When swim- 
 ming backward and forward between the two islands, I used to bind my frock 
 and trousers about my head ; and if I could have carried over wood and leaves 
 whereof to make a hut, I should have passed more time on the smaller one.. 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 149 
 
 Yet these excursions were not unattended with danger Once, I remember, 
 when I was passing from the larger island, the bamboo, before I was aware, 
 slipped from under me, and the tide or current set down so strong that it was 
 with great difficulty I could reach the shore. At another time I was swimming 
 over to the small island when a shovel-nosed shark struck me in the thigh just 
 as my foot could reach the bottom, and grounded itself, from the shallowness 
 of the water ( as I suppose ), so that its mouth could not get round toward me. 
 The blow I felt some hours after making the shore. By repeated practice I at 
 length became a pretty dexterous swimmer, and amused myself by passing from 
 one island to another among the Keys. 
 
 I suffered very much from being barefoot, so many deep wounds being made 
 in my feet from traversing the woods, where the ground was covered with sticks 
 and stones, and on the hot beach, over sharp broken shells, that I was scarce 
 able to walk at all. Often when treading with all possible caution, a stone or 
 shell on the beach, or a pointed stick in the woods, would penetrate the old 
 wound, and the extreme anguish would strike me down, as suddenly as if I 
 had been shot. Then I would remain for hours together, with tears gushing 
 from my eyes from the acuteness of the pain. I could travel no more than 
 absolute necessity compelled me in quest of subsistence ; and I have sat, my 
 back leaning against a tree, looking out for a vessel during a complete day. 
 
 Once, while I sat faint from such injuries, as well as smarting under the 
 pain of them, a wild boar rushed towards me. I knew not what to do, for I 
 had not strength to resist his attack ; therefore, as he drew nearer, I caught 
 the bough of a tree, and half suspended myself by means of it. The boar tore 
 away part of my ragged trousers with his tusks, and then left me. This, I 
 think, was the only time that I was attacked by any wild beast ; and I 
 considered myself to have had a very great deliverance. 
 
 As my weakness continued to increase, I often fell to the ground insensible, 
 and then, as also when I laid myself to sleep, I thought I should never wake 
 again or rise in life. Under this affliction, I first lost count of the days of 
 the week ; I could not distinguish Sunday, and as my illness became more 
 aggravated I bcame ignorant of the month also. All this time I had no healing 
 balsam for my feet, nor any cordial to revive my drooping spirits. My utmost 
 efforts could only now and then procure some figs and grapes Neither had I 
 fire ; for though I had heard of a way to procure it by rubbing two sticks 
 together, my attempts in this respect, continued until I was tired, proved 
 abortive. The rains having come on, attended with chill winds, I suffered ex- 
 ceedingly. While passing nine months in this lonely, melancholy and iiksome 
 condition, my thoughts would sometimes wander to my parents, and I reflected 
 that, notwithstanding it would be consolatory to myself if they knew where I 
 was, it might be distressing to them. The nearer my prospect of death, which 
 I often expected, the greater my penitence became. 
 
 Some time in November, 1723, I descried a small canoe approaching with 
 
ISO THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 a single man ; but the sight excited little emotion. I kept my seat on the 
 beach, thinking I could not expect a friend, and knowing that I had no enemy 
 to fear, nor was I capable of resisting one. 
 
 As the man approached, he betrayed many signs of surprise. He called me 
 to him, and I told him he might safely venture ashore, for I was alone and 
 almost expiring. Coming close up, he knew not what to make of me ; my 
 garb and countenance seemed so singular that he looked wild with astonish- 
 ment. He started back a little, and surveyed me more thoroughly, but, 
 recovering himself again, came forward, and, taking me by the hand, expressed 
 his satisfaction at seeing me. 
 
 This stranger proved to be a native of North Britain ; he was well advanced 
 in years, of a grave and venerable aspect, and of a reserved temper. His name 
 I never knew ; he did not disclose it, and I had not inquired during the 
 period of our acquaintance. But he informed me he had lived twenty-two 
 years with the Spaniards, who now threatened to burn him, though I know 
 not for what crime ; therefore he had fled hither as a sanctuary, bringing his 
 dog, gun, and ammunition, as also a small quantity of pork, along with him. 
 He designed spending the remainder of his days on the island, where he 
 could support himself by hunting. I experienced much kindness from the 
 stranger ; he was always ready to perform any civil offices, and assist me 
 in whatever he could, though he spoke little. He also gave me a share 
 of his pork. 
 
 On the third day after his arrival, he said he would make an excursion in 
 his canoe among the neighboring islands, for the purpose of killing wild hogs 
 and deer, and wished me to accompany him. Though my spirits were somewhat 
 recruited by his society, the benefit of the fire which I now enjoyed, and 
 dressed provisions, my weakness and the soreness of my feet prevented me ; 
 therefore he set out alone, saying he would return in a few hours. The sky 
 was serene, and there was no prospect of any danger during a short excursion, 
 seeing he had come nearly twelve leagues in safety in his canoe ; but when he 
 had been absent about an hour, a violent gust of wind and rain arose, in 
 which he probably perished, as I never heard of him more. Thus after having 
 the pleasure of a companion almost three days, I was reduced to my former 
 lonely state as unexpectedly as I had been relieved from it. 
 
 Yet through God's goodness I was myself preserved, from having been 
 unable to accompany him, and I was left in better circumstances than those in 
 which he had found me ; for now I had about five pounds of pork, a knife, a 
 bottle of gunpowder, tobacco-tongs and flint, by which means my life could be 
 rendered more comfortable. I was enabled to have fire, extremely requisite at 
 this time, being the rainy months of winter ; I could cut up a tortoise, and 
 have a delicate broiled meal. Thus by the help of the fire and the dressed 
 provisions, through the blessing of God I began to recover strength, though the 
 soreness of my feet remained. But I had, besides, the advantage of being able 
 
ATTACKED BY THE WII,D BOAR. (p. 149.) 
 
152 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 now and then to catch a dish of cray-fish, which when roasted proved good 
 eating. To accomplish this I made up a small bundle of old broken sticks, 
 resembling pitch-pine or candle-wood, and having lighted one end, waded, with 
 it in my hand, up to my waist in water. The cray-fish, attracted by the 
 light, would crawl to my feet, and lie directly under it, when, by means of a 
 forked stick, I could toss them ashore. 
 
 Between two and three months after the time of losing my companion, I 
 found a small canoe while ranging along the shore. The sight of it revived 
 my regret for his loss, for I judged that it had been his canoe, and from 
 being washed up here, a certain proof of his having been lost in the tempest ; 
 but on examining it more narrowly I satisfied myself that it was one which I 
 had never seen before. 
 
 Master of this little vessel, I began to think myself admiral of the neigh- 
 bouring seas, as well as sole possessor and chief commander of the islands. 
 Profiting by its use, I could transport myself to the places of retreat more 
 conveniently than by my former expedient of swimming. In process of time 
 I projected an excursion to some of the larger and more distant islands, partly 
 to learn how they were stored or inhabited, and partly for sake of amusement. 
 
 Laying in a stock of figs and grapes, therefore, as also some tortoise to eat, 
 and carrying my implements for fire, I put off to steer for the island of 
 Bonacco, which is about four or five leagues long, and situated five or six from 
 Roatan. In the course of the voyage, observing a sloop at the east end of 
 the island, I made the best of my way to the west, designing to travel down 
 by land, both because a point of rocks ran far into the sea, beyond which I 
 did not care to venture in the canoe, as was necessary if I wished to come 
 ahead of the sloop, and because I wished to ascertain something concerning 
 her people before I was discovered. Even in my worst circumstances I never 
 could brook the thought of returning on board of any piratical vessel, and 
 resolved rather to live and die in my present situation. 
 
 Hauling up the canoe, and making it fast as well as I was able, I set out 
 on the journey. My feet were yet in such a state that two days and the 
 best parts of two nights were occupied in it. Sometimes the woods and bushes 
 were so thick that it was necessary to crawl half a mile together on my hands 
 and knees, which rendered my progress very slow. When within a mile or two 
 of the place where I supposed the sloop might lie, I made for the water-side, and 
 approached the sea gradually, that I might not too soon disclose myself to 
 view ; however, on reaching the beach, there was no appearance of the sloop, 
 whence I judged that she had sailed during the time spent by me in travelling. 
 
 Being much fatigued with the journey, I rested myself against the stump of 
 a tree, with my face towards the sea, where sleep overpowered me ; but I had 
 not slumbered long before I was suddenly awakened by the noise of firing. 
 
 Starting up in affright I saw nine " periaguas," or large canoes, full of men, 
 firing upon me from the sea, whence I soon turned about, and ran among 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 153 
 
 the bushes as fast as my sore feet would allow, while the men, who were 
 Spaniards, cried after me, " O Englishman, we will give you good quarter." 
 
 However, my astonishment was so great, and I was so suddenly roused from 
 sleep, that I had no self-command to listen to their offers of quarter, which, it 
 may be, at another time in my cooler moments I might have done. Thus I 
 made into the woods, and the strangers continued firing after me, to the number 
 
 "I SAW NINE CANOES." 
 
 of one hundred and fifty bullets at least, many of which cut small twigs oflF 
 the bushes close by my side. 
 
 Having gained an extensive thicket beyond reach of the shot, I lay close 
 several hours, until, observing by the sound of their oars that the Spaniards 
 were departing, I crept out. I saw the sloop under English colors sailing 
 away with the canoes in tow, which induced me to suppose she was an 
 English vessel which had been at the Bay of Honduras, and taken <-here by 
 the Spaniards. 
 
 Next day I returned to the tree where I had been so nearly surprised, 
 and was astonished to find six or seven shot in the trunk, within a foot or 
 less of my head. Yet through the wonderful goodness of God, though having 
 been as a mark to shoot at, I was preserved. 
 
154 THE PiRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 After this I travelled to recover my canoe at the western end of the island, 
 which I reached in three days, but suffering severely from the soreness of my 
 feet and the scantiness of provision. This island is not so plentifully stored 
 as Roatan, so that during the five or six days of my residence I had difficulty 
 in procuring subsistence, and the insects were, besides, infinitely more numerous 
 and harassing than at my old habitation. These circumstances deterred me 
 from further exploring the island, and having reached the canoe very tired and 
 exhausted I put off for Roatan, which was a royal palace to me compared 
 with Bonacco, and arrived at night in safety. Here I lived, if it may be called 
 living, alone for about seven months after losing my North British companion. 
 My time was spent in the usual manner, ranging among the islands. 
 
 Some time in June, 1724, while on the same Key whither I often retreated 
 to be free from the annoyance of insects, I saw two canoes making for the 
 harbor. Approaching nearer, they observed the smoke of a fire which I had 
 kindled, and at a loss to know what it meant, they hesitated to advance. 
 
 What I had experienced at Bonacco was still fresh in my memory, and 
 loth to run the risk of such another firing I withdrew to my canoe, lying 
 behind the Key, not above a hundred yards distant, and immediately rowed 
 over to Roatan. There I had places of safety against an enemy, and sufficient 
 accomodation for any ordinary number of friends. The people in the canoes 
 observed me cross the sea to Roatan, the passage exceeding a gunshot 
 over, and being as much afraid as I was of Spaniards, approached very cautiously 
 towards the shore 
 
 I then came down to the beach, showing myself openly, for their conduct 
 led me to think that they could not be pirates, and I resolved, before being 
 exposed to the danger of their shot, to inquire who they were. If they proved 
 such as I did not like, I could easily retire. 
 
 But before I spoke they, as full of apprehension as I could be, lay on 
 their oars and demanded who I was and whence I came ; to which I replied 
 that I was "an Englishman and had run away from pirates" On this the}- 
 drew somewhat nearer, inquiring who was there besides myself. I assured 
 them in return that I was alone. Next, according to my original purpose, 
 having put similar questions to them, I heard that they had come from the 
 Bay of Honduras. Their words encouraged me to bid them row ashore, which 
 they did accordingly, though at some distance, and one man landed, whom I 
 advanced to meet. 
 
 But he started back at the sight of a poor, ragged, wild, forlorn, miserable 
 object so near him. Collecting himself, however, he took me by the hand, and 
 we began embracing one another — he from surprise and wonder, and I from a 
 sort of ecstasy of joy. When this was over, he took me in his arms, and 
 carried me down to the canoes, where all his comrades were struck with astonish- 
 ment at my appearance ; but they gladly received me, and I experienced great 
 tenderness from them. 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 155 
 
 I gave the strangers a brief account of my escape from Low, and my lonely 
 residence for sixteen months, all excepting three days, the hardships I had 
 suffered, and the dangers to which I had been exposed. They stood amazed 
 at the recital. They wondered I was alive, and expressed much satisfaction at 
 being able to relieve me. Observing me very weak and depressed, they gave 
 me about a spoonful of rum to recruit my fainting spirits ; but even this small 
 quantity, from my long disuse of strong liquors, threw me into a violent 
 agitation, and produced a kind of stupor, which at last ended in privation 
 of sense. Some of the party, perceiving a state of insensibility come on, would 
 have administered more rum, which those better skilled among them prevented, 
 and after lying a short time in a fit, I revived. 
 
 Then I ascertained that the strangers were eighteen in number, the chief 
 of them, named John Hope, an old man, called Father Hope by his companions, 
 and John Ford, and all belonging to the Bay of Honduras. The cause of their 
 coming hither was an alarm at a threatened attack by the Spaniards from the 
 sea, while the Indians should make a descent by land and cut off the bay ; 
 thus they had fled for safety. On a former occasion the two persons above 
 named had for the like reason taken shelter among these islands, and lived 
 four years at a time on a small one named Barbarat, about two leagues from 
 Roatan. There they had two plantations (as they called them ) ; and now they 
 brought two barrels of flour, with other provisions, fire-arms, dogs for hunting, 
 and nets for tortoises, and also an Indian woman to dress their provisions. 
 
 Their principal residence was a small Key, about a quarter of a mile round, 
 lying near to Barbarat, and named by them the "Castle of Comfort," chiefly 
 because it was low and clear of wood and bushes, so that the free circulation 
 of the wind could drive away the pestiferous mosquitoes and other insects. 
 Hence they sent to the surrounding islands for food, water, and materials to 
 build two houses, such as they were, for shelter. 
 
 I had now the prospect of a much more agreeable life than what I had 
 spent during the sixteen months past ; for, besides having company, I was 
 treated by the strangers, after their way, with a great deal of civility. They 
 clothed me, and gave me a large wrapping-gown as a defence against the 
 nightly dews until their houses were covered ; and there was plenty of provi- 
 sions. Yet, after all, they were bad society ; and as to their common conversa- 
 tion, there was little difference between them and pirates. However, it did not 
 appear that they were engaged in any such evil design as rendered it unlawful 
 to join them, or be found in their company. In process of time, and with the 
 assistance afforded by my companions, I gathered so much strength as some- 
 times to be able to hunt along with them. The islands abounded with wild 
 hogs, deer, and tortoise ; and different ones were visited in quest of game. 
 This was brought home, where, instead of being immediately consumed, it was 
 hung up to dry in the smoke, so as to be a ready supply at all times. I now 
 considered myself beyond the reach of danger from an enemy, for, independent 
 
156 THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 of supposing that nothing could bring any one here, I was surrounded by a 
 number of men with arms constantly in their hands ; yet at the very time 
 that I thought myself most secure, I was very nearly again falling into the 
 hands of pirates. 
 
 Six or seven months after the strangers joined me, three of them, along 
 with myself took a four-oared canoe for the purpose of hunting and killing 
 tortoise on Bonacco During our absence the rest repaired their canoes, and 
 prepared to go over to the Bay of Honduras, to examine how matters stood 
 there, and bring off their remaining effects in case it were dangerous to 
 return ; but before they had departed we were on our voyage homewards, 
 having a full load of pork and tortoise, as our object was successfully 
 accomplished. 
 
 While entering the mouth of the harbor in a moonlight evening, we saw a 
 great flash, and heard a report, much louder than that of a musket, proceed 
 from a large periagua which we observed near the " Castle of Comfort." 
 
 This put us in extreme consternation, and we knew not what to consider ; 
 but in a minute or two we heard a volley from eighteen or twenty small arms 
 discharged towards the shore, and also some returned from it. Satisfied that 
 an enemy, either Spaniards or pirates, was attacking our people, and being 
 intercepted from them by periaguas lying between us and the shore, we thought 
 the safest plan was trying to escape. Therefore taking down our little mast 
 and sail, that they might not betray us, we rowed out of the harbor as fast 
 as possible, towards an island about a mile and a half distant, trusting to 
 retreat undiscovered. But the enemy having either seen us before the sail was 
 lowered, or hearing the noise of the oars, follow with all speed in an eight-or 
 ten-oared periagua. Observing her approach, and fast gaining on us, we rowed 
 with all our might to make the nearest shore. However, she was at length 
 enabled to discharge a swivel, the shot from which passed over our canoe ; 
 nevertheless, we contrived to reach the shore before being completely within the 
 range of small arms which our pursuers discharged on us while landing. 
 
 They were now near enough to cry aloud that they were pirates, and not 
 Spaniards, and that we need not dread them, as we should get good quarter, 
 thence supposing that we should be the easier induced to surrender. Yet 
 nothing could have been said to discourage me more from putting myself in 
 their power. I had the utmost dread of a pirate, and my original aversion was 
 now enhanced by the apprehension of being sacrificed for my former desertion. 
 Thus concluding to keep as clear of them as I could, and the Honduras 
 Bay men having no great inclination to do otherwise, we made the best of our 
 way to the woods. 
 
 Our pursuers carried off the canoe and all its contents, resolving, if we 
 would not go to them, to deprive us as far as possible of all means of subsisting 
 where we were. But it gave me, who had known both want and solitude, little 
 concern, now that I had company, and we had arms among .is to procure 
 provisions, and also fire wherewith to dress it. 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 157 
 
 Our assailants were some men belonging to Spriggs, my former commander, 
 who had thrown off his allegiance to Low, and set up for himself at the head 
 of a gang of pirates, with a good ship of twenty-four guns and a sloop of 
 twelve, both at present lying in Roatan Harbor. He had put in for fresh 
 water, and to refit, at the place w^here I first escaped, and, having discovered 
 my companions at the small island of their retreat, sent a periagua full of men 
 to take them. Accordingly they landed and took all prisoners, even to a child 
 and the Indian woman. They killed a man after landing, and throwing him 
 into one of the canoes containing tar, set it on fire and burnt his body in it. 
 Then they carried the people on board of their vessels, where they were 
 barbarously treated. One of them turned pirate, however, and told the others 
 that John Hope had hid many things in the woods ; therefore they beat him most 
 unmercifully to make him disclose his treasure, which they carried off with them. 
 
 After the pirates had kept these people five days on board of their vessels, 
 they gave them a flat of five or six tons to carry them to the Bay of 
 Honduras, but no kind of provision for the voyage ; and further, before 
 dismissal, compelled them to swear that they would not come near me and 
 my party, who had escaped to another island. While the vessels rode in the 
 harbor, we kept a good look-out, but were exposed to some difficulties from 
 not daring to kindle a fire to dress our victuals, lest our residence should be 
 betrayed. Thus we lived for five days on raw provisions. As soon as they 
 sailed, however, Hope, little regarding the oath extorted from him, came and 
 informed us what had passed ; and I could not, for my part, be sufficiently 
 grateful to Providence for escaping the hands of the pirates, who would have 
 put me to a cruel death. 
 
 Hope and all his people, except John Symonds, now resolved to make their 
 way to the Bay. Symonds, who had a negro, wished to remain some time, 
 for the purpose of trading with the Jamaica men on the main But thinking 
 my best chance of getting to New England was from the Bay of Honduras, I 
 requested Hope to take me with him. The old man, though he would have 
 gladly done so, advanced many objections, such as the insufficiency of the 
 flat to carry so many men seventy leagues ; that they had no provisions for 
 the passage, which might be tedious, and the flat was, besides, ill-calculated 
 to stand the sea ; as also that it was uncertain how matters might turn out 
 at the Bay. Thus he thought it better for me to remain, yet rather than that 
 I should be in solitude he would take me in. Symonds, on the other hand, 
 urged me to stay and bear him company, and gave several reasons why I 
 should more likely obtain a passage irom the Jamaica men to New England 
 than by the Bay of Honduras. 
 
 As this seemed a fairer prospect of reaching my home, which I was ex- 
 tremely anxious to do, I assented, and having thanked Hope and his companions 
 for their civilities I took leave of them and they departed. Symonds was 
 provided with a cannon, firearms, and two dogs in addition to his negro, by 
 
158 THE PIIIATE'S APPRENTICE. 
 
 which means he felt confident of being able to provide all that was necessary 
 for our subsistence. We spent two or three months after the usual manner, 
 ranging from island to island, but the prevalence of the winter rains precluded 
 us from obtaining more game than we required. 
 
 When the season for Jamaica traders approached, Symonds proposed re- 
 pairing to some other islands to obtain a quantity of tortoise-shell, which he could 
 
 ISLANDS IN THK BAY OF HONDURAS 
 
 exchange for clothes and shoes, and being successful in this respect we next 
 proceeded to Bonacco, which lies nearer the main, that we might thence take 
 a favorable opportunity to run over. Having been a short time at Bonacco, 
 a furious tempest arose and continued for three days, when we saw several 
 vessels standing in for the harbor. 
 
 The largest of them anchored at a great distance, but a brigantine came 
 over the shoals opposite to the watering-place, and sent her boat ashore with 
 casks. Recognising three people who were in the boat by their dress and 
 appearance for Englishmen, I concluded they were friends, and showed myself 
 openly on the beach before thenii 
 
THE PIRATE'S APPRENTICE. 159 
 
 They ceased rowing immediately on observing me, and after answering 
 their inquires of who I was, I put the same question, saying they might 
 come ashore with safety. They did so, and a happy meeting it was for me. 
 I now found that the vessels were a fleet under convoy of the Diamond 
 man-of-war, bound for Jamaica ; but many ships had parted company in the 
 storm. 
 
 The Diamond had sent in the brigantine to get water here, as the sickness 
 of her crew had occasioned a great consumption of that necessary article. 
 
 Symonds, who had kept at a distance, lest the three men might hesitate to 
 come ashore, at length approached to participate in my joy, though at the same 
 time testifying considerable reluctance at the prospect of my leaving him The 
 brigantine was commanded by Captain Dove, with whom I was acquainted, 
 and she belonged to Salem, within three miles of my father's house. Captain 
 Dove not only treated me with great civility, and engaged to give me a passage 
 home, but took me into pay, having lost a seaman, whose place he wanted me 
 to supply. Next day, the Diamond having sent her longboat ashore with 
 casks for water, they were filled ; and after taking leave of Symonds, who shed 
 tears at parting, I was carried on board the brigantine. 
 
 We sailed, along with the Diamond, which was bound for Jamaica, in the 
 latter end of March, 1725, and kept company until the 1st of April. By the 
 providence of Heaven we passed safely through the Gulf of Florida, and reached 
 Salem Harbor on the ist of May, two years ten months and fifteen days 
 after I was first taken by the pirates, and two years and nearly two months 
 after I made my escape from them on Roatan Island. That same evening I 
 went to my father's house, where I was received as one risen from the dead. 
 
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