our hero and his messmate get into trouble.
on the night after the battle, bill bowls and ben bolter were sent on board a french transport ship.
as they sat beside each other, in irons, and securely lodged under hatches, these stout men of war lamented their hard fate thus—
“i say, bill, this is wot i calls a fix!”
“that’s so, ben—a bad fix.”
there was silence for a few minutes, then ben resumed—
“now, d’ye see, this here war may go on for ever so long—years it may be—an’ here we are on our way to a french prison, where we’ll have the pleasure, mayhap, of spendin’ our youth in twirlin’ our thumbs or bangin’ our heads agin the bars of our cage.”
“there ain’t a prison in france as’ll hold me,” said bill bowls resolutely.
“no? how d’ye ’xpect to git out—seein’ that the walls and doors ain’t made o’ butter, nor yet o’ turnips?” inquired ben.
“i’ll go up the chimbley,” said bill savagely, for his mind had reverted to nelly blyth, and he could not bear to think of prolonged imprisonment.
“but wot if they’ve got no chimbleys?”
“i’ll try the winders.”
“but if the winders is tight barred, wot then?”
“why, then, i’ll bust ’em, or i’ll bust myself, that’s all.”
“humph!” ejaculated ben.
again there was a prolonged silence, during which the friends moodily meditated on the dark prospects before them.
“if we could only have bin killed in action,” said bill, “that would have been some comfort.”
“not so sure o’ that, messmate,” said ben. “there’s no sayin’ wot may turn up. p’r’aps the war will end soon, an’ that’s not onlikely, for we’ve whipped the mounseers on sea, an’ it won’t be difficult for our lobsters to lick ’em on land. p’r’aps there’ll be an exchange of prisoners, an’ we may have a chance of another brush with them one o’ these days. if the wust comes to the wust, we can try to break out o’ jail and run a muck for our lives. never say die is my motto.”
bill bowls did not assent to these sentiments in words, but he clenched his fettered hands, set his teeth together, and gave his comrade a look which assured him that whatever might be attempted he would act a vigorous part.
a few days later the transport entered a harbour, and a guard came on board to take charge of the prisoners, of whom there were about twenty. as they were being led to the jail of the town, bill whispered to his comrade—
“look out sharp as ye go along, ben, an’ keep as close to me as ye can.”
“all right, my lad,” muttered ben, as he followed the soldiers who specially guarded himself.
ben did not suppose that bill intended then and there to make a sudden struggle for freedom, because he knew that, with fettered wrists, in a strange port, the very name of which they did not know, and surrounded by armed enemies, such an attempt would be utterly hopeless; he therefore concluded, correctly, that his companion wished him to take the bearings (as he expressed it) of the port, and of the streets through which they should pass. accordingly he kept his “weather-eye open.”
the french soldiers who conducted the seamen to prison, although stout athletic fellows, and, doubtless, capable of fighting like heroes, were short of stature, so that the british tars looked down on them with a patronising expression of countenance, and one or two even ventured on a few facetious remarks. bill bowls and ben bolter, who both measured above six feet in their stockings, towered above the crowd like two giants.
“it’s a purty place intirely,” said an irish sailor, with a smiling countenance, looking round upon the houses, and nodding to a group of pretty girls who were regarding the prisoners with looks of pity. “what may be the name of it, av i may make bowld to inquire?”
the question was addressed to the soldier on his right, but the man paid no attention. so the irishman repeated it, but without drawing forth a reply.
“sure, yer a paltry thing that can’t give a civil answer to a civil question.”
“he don’t understand irish, pat, try him with english,” said ben bolter.
“ah, then,” said pat, “ye’d better try that yersilf, only yer so high up there he won’t be able to hear ye.”
before ben had an opportunity of trying the experiment, however, they had arrived at the jail. after they had passed in, the heavy door was shut with a clang, and bolted and barred behind them.
it is probable that not one of the poor fellows who heard the sound, escaped a sensation of sinking at the heart, but certain it is that not one condescended to show his feelings in his looks.
they were all put into a large empty room, the window of which looked into a stone passage, which was itself lighted from the roof; the door was shut, locked, bolted, and barred, and they were left to their meditations.
they had not remained long there, however, when the bolts and bars were heard moving again.
“what say ’e to a rush, lads?” whispered one of the men eagerly.
“agreed,” said bill bowls, starting forward; “i’ll lead you, boys.”
“no man can fight with his hands tied,” growled one of the others. “you’ll only be spoilin’ a better chance, mayhap.”
at that moment the last bolt was withdrawn, and the door swung open, revealing several files of soldiers with muskets, and bayonets fixed, in the passage. this sight decided the question of a rush!
four of the soldiers entered with the turnkey. the latter, going up to bill bowls and ben bolter, said to them in broken english:—
“you follows de soldat.”
much surprised, but in silence, they obeyed the command.
as they were going out, one of their comrades said, “good-bye, mates: it’s plain they’ve taken ye for admirals on account o’ yer size!”
“niver a taste,” said the irishman before mentioned, “’tis bein’ led, they are, to exekooshion—”
the remainder of this consolatory suggestion was cut off by the shutting of the door.
after traversing several passages, the turnkey stopped before a small door studded with iron nails, and, selecting one of his huge keys, opened it, while the soldiers ranged up on either side.
the turnkey, who was a tall, powerful man, stepped back, and, looking at bill, pointed to the cell with his finger, as much as to say, “go in.”
bill looked at him and at the soldiers for a moment, clenched his fists, and drew his breath short, but as one of the guard quietly brought his musket to the charge, he heaved a sigh, bent his head, and, passing under the low doorway, entered the cell.
“are we to stop long here, mister turnkey?” asked ben, as he was about to follow.
the man vouchsafed no reply, but again pointed to the cell.
“i’ve always heered ye wos a purlite nation,” said ben, as he followed his messmate; “but there’s room for improvement.”
the door was shut, and the two friends stood for a few minutes in the centre of their cell, gazing in silence around the blank walls.
the appearance of their prison was undoubtedly depressing, for there was nothing whatever in it to arrest the eye, except a wooden bench in one corner, and the small grated window which was situated near the top of one of the walls.
“what d’ye think o’ this?” asked ben, after some time, sitting down on the bench.
“i think i won’t be able to stand it,” said bill, flinging himself recklessly down beside his friend, and thrusting his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
“don’t take on so bad, messmate,” said ben, in a reproving tone. “gittin’ sulky with fate ain’t no manner o’ use. as our messmate flinders used to say, ‘be aisy, an’ if ye can’t be aisy, be as aisy as ye can.’ there’s wot i calls sound wisdom in that.”
“very true, ben; nevertheless the sound wisdom in that won’t avail to get us out o’ this.”
“no doubt, but it’ll help us to bear this with equablenimity while we’re here, an’ set our minds free to think about the best way o’ makin’ our escape.”
at this bill made an effort to throw off the desperate humour which had taken possession of him, and he so far succeeded that he was enabled to converse earnestly with his friend.
“wot are we to do?” asked bill gloomily.
“to see, first of all, what lies outside o’ that there port-hole,” answered ben. “git on my shoulders, bill, an’ see if ye can reach it.”
ben stood against the wall, and his friend climbed on his shoulders, but so high was the window, that he could not reach to within a foot of it. they overcame this difficulty, however, by dragging the bench to the wall, and standing upon it.
“i see nothin’,” said bill, “but the sky an’ the sea, an’ the prison-yard, which appears to me to be fifty or sixty feet below us.”
“that’s not comfortin’,” observed ben, as he replaced the bench in its corner.
“what’s your advice now?” asked bill.
“that we remain on our good behaviour a bit,” replied ben, “an’ see wot they means to do with us, an’ whether a chance o’ some sort won’t turn up.”
“well, that’s a good plan—anyhow, it’s an easy one to begin with—so we’ll try it for a day or two.”
in accordance with this resolve, the two sailors called into play all the patience, prudence, and philosophy of which they were possessed, and during the three days that followed their incarceration, presented such a meek, gentle, resigned aspect; that the stoniest heart of the most iron-moulded turnkey ought to have been melted; but the particular turnkey of that prison was made of something more or less than mortal mould, for he declined to answer questions,—declined even to open his lips, or look as if he heard the voices of his prisoners, and took no notice of them farther than to fetch their food at regular intervals and take away the empty plates. he, however, removed their manacles; but whether of his own good-will or by order they did not know.
“now, ben,” said bill on the evening of the third day, as they sat beside each other twirling their thumbs, “this here sort o’ thing will never do. i mean for to make a dash when the turnkey comes in the mornin’; will you help me?”
“i’m yer man,” said ben; “but how d’ye mean to set about it?”
“well, somewhat in this fashion:— w’enever he opens the door i’ll clap my hand on his mouth to stop his pipe, and you’ll slip behind him, throw yer arms about him, and hold on till i tie a handkerchief over his mouth. arter that we’ll tie his hands and feet with whatever we can git hold of—his own necktie, mayhap—take the keys from him, and git out the best way we can.”
“h’m; but wot if we don’t know the right turnin’s to take, an’ run straight into the jaws of other turnkeys, p’r’aps, or find other doors an’ gates that his bunch o’ keys won’t open?”
“why, then, we’ll just fail, that’s all; an’ if they should scrag us for it, no matter.”
“it’s a bad look-out, but i’ll try,” said ben.
next morning this plan was put in execution. when the turnkey entered the cell, bill seized him and clapped his hand on his mouth. the man struggled powerfully, but ben held him in a grasp so tight that he was as helpless as an infant.
“keep yer mind easy, mounseer, we won’t hurt ’e,” said ben, while his comrade was busy gagging him.
“now, then, lift him into the corner,” whispered bill.
ben and he carried the turnkey, whom they had tied hand and foot with handkerchiefs and neckties, into the interior of the cell, left him there, locked the door on him, and immediately ran along the passage, turned a corner, and came in sight of an iron grating, on the other side of which sat a man in a dress similar to that of the turnkey they had left behind them. they at once drew back and tried to conceal themselves, but the man had caught sight of them, and gave the alarm.
seeing that their case was desperate, bill rushed at the grating with all his force and threw himself heavily against it. the whole building appeared to quiver with the shock; but the caged tiger has a better chance of smashing his iron bars than poor bill bowls had. twice he flung his whole weight against the barrier, and the second time ben helped him; but their efforts were in vain. a moment later and a party of soldiers marched up to the grating on the outside. at the same time a noise was heard at the other end of the passage. turning round, the sailors observed that another gate had been opened, and a party of armed men admitted, who advanced with levelled muskets.
seeing this, bill burst into a bitter laugh, and flung down the keys with a force that caused the long passage to echo again, as he exclaimed—
“it’s all up with us, ben. we may as well give in at once.”
“that’s so,” said ben sadly, as he suffered himself to be handcuffed, after which he and his companion in misfortune were conducted back to their cell.
