the embarkation
the preparations for departure from blois consumed such a length of time that the prisoners feared that they were to make a stay there, and that during that stay some harm would befall them. they were all the more convinced when the adjutant-general, who was in command of their troop under dutertre—one colin, well known in the country as the author of the massacres of the 2d of september—and one of his companions, named guillet, who had no better reputation, entered the prison one morning about six o'clock.
they seemed much excited, grumbled as though to egg themselves on, and looked at the exiles with a baleful eye. the municipal officer who had accompanied the prisoners from paris had an inspiration. he went straight up to them, and looking them in the eye, said: "why do you delay the start? everything has been ready for a long time. the crowd increases and your conduct is more than suspicious. i have seen and heard you both stirring up the people and urging them to acts of violence against the prisoners. i swear to you that should aught befall them when they go out, i will place my deposition upon the register, and that the responsibility shall fall upon you."
the two knaves stammered some excuse. the wagons were brought out, and the prisoners were accompanied with the same shouts, jeers and imprecations which had greeted them on the preceding day; but they were none of them hit by the stones which were thrown or by the blows which were aimed at them.
at amboise they were placed for the night in a room so small that they were unable to lie down upon the straw. they were obliged either to stand up or to sit down.[pg 560] they hoped to get some rest at tours, but they were cruelly disappointed. the town authorities had recently been subjected to a weeding-out process, and were still terrorized. the prisoners were taken to the prison reserved for the galley-slaves. they were compelled to mingle with them, and some of the deputies asked for a place by themselves.
"that is your apartment," said the jailer, pointing to a little cell which was both damp and dirty.
thereupon the galley-slaves gave evidence of more humanity than the jailers, for one of them approached the exiles, and said humbly:
"gentlemen, we are very sorry to see you here. we are not worthy to approach you; but if, in the unhappy state to which we are reduced, there is any service which we can render you, we pray you to be good enough to accept it. the cell which has been prepared for you is colder and damper than ours; we beg of you to take ours, which is larger and drier than yours."
pichegru thanked the poor wretches in the name of his companions, and, shaking hands with the one who had acted as spokesman, he said: "so it is to you that we must now look for human hearts!"
the exiles had not eaten for more than thirty hours, and each one now received a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. it was a gala day for them.
the next day they stopped at saint-maure. lieutenant-general dutertre, having found in this little town a flying column of the national guard composed of peasants, took advantage of the opportunity to relieve his troops, who could hardly put one foot before the other. he therefore ordered the column to guard the exiles, under the supervision of the municipality, which fortunately had not in this case been weeded out.
these worthy peasants took pity on the unfortunate prisoners. they brought them food and wine in such quantities that they could for the first time eat and drink in a[pg 561] measure commensurate with their hunger and thirst. besides this, they were less strictly guarded; and so negligent were these worthy people, most of whom were armed only with pikes, that they were permitted to go as far as the causeway, whence they could see the forest, which seemed to have been placed there expressly to afford them a refuge.
ramel ventured to suggest a flight; but some opposed it on the score that it would seem like a confession of guilt, and others refused because their escape would have cruelly compromised their keepers, and would have involved the first of their kind who had shown compassion for their sufferings.
day came and they had hardly slept, for the whole night had slipped away in the discussion, and they were forced to re-enter the iron cages and become once again the property of dutertre. they crossed the dense forest at which they had gazed so eagerly the previous evening. the roads were frightful. some of them obtained permission to walk between four of the cavalry. barbé-marbois, barthélemy and du coudray, wounded and almost at the point of death, could not take advantage of this permission. they were lying upon the floor, and at every jolt were thrown against the iron bars, which bruised them and drew from them, in spite of their stoicism, cries of agony. barthélemy was the only one who did not utter a single groan.
at chatellereault they were confined in a cell so foul that three of them fell down asphyxiated as they entered. pichegru pushed open the door just as they were about to close it, and seizing a soldier threw him to the rear of the cell. the man almost fainted, and reported that it would be impossible to live in such an atmosphere. the door was left open and a sentinel placed before it.
barbé-marbois was very ill. du coudray, who was taking care of him, was seated on the straw at his side. a man who for three years had been in irons in the neighboring cell obtained leave to visit them, brought them some fresh water, and offered his bed to barbé-marbois, who felt a little better after a couple of hours' sleep.
[pg 562]
"have patience," this man said to them; "one can get accustomed to anything in time. i am an example of this, for i have lived for three years in a cell like yours."
at lusignan the prison was too small to hold the sixteen exiles. rain poured in torrents and a cold wind was blowing from the north. dutertre, who stopped at nothing, ordered the cages to be closed, had the horses unharnessed, and cages and prisoners remained in the public square. they had been there about an hour when the mayor of the town and the commander of the national guard came and offered to be responsible for them if they were allowed to pass the night at the inn. the authorities gained their point, though not without some difficulty. the prisoners were no sooner established in three rooms, with sentinels at the doors and beneath the windows, than they saw a courier ride up and stop at the same inn to which they had been taken. some of them, more hopeful than the others, were of the opinion that the courier came with good news. all were convinced that he was the bearer of a message of importance.
in fact he carried an order for the arrest of general dutertre for extortions and larcenies committed since the departure of the exiles, and to take him back to paris.
they found the eight hundred louis d'or which had been given him for the expense of the convoy still in his possession, which he had pocketed, levying contributions instead upon the towns through which he had passed. the exiles heard this with joy. they saw the carriage drive up which was to take him; and ramel, whose curiosity impelled him to neglect precaution, opened the window. the sentinel in the street fired at once, and the ball shattered the window-pane.
dutertre arrested, the conduct of the convoy fell to his second in command, guillet.
but, as we have said, guillet was not much better than dutertre. on the day following, when they reached saint-maixant, the mayor approached the exiles and was so ill-advised as to say to them: "gentlemen, i sympathize deeply with your situation, and all good citizens share my feeling."
[pg 563]
guillet himself seized the mayor, pushed him toward two soldiers, and ordered him to be imprisoned.
but this act of oppression so revolted the townsfolk, by whom the mayor seemed to be much beloved, that they rose in a body and forced guillet to return them their mayor.
the thing that most disturbed the exiles was the fact that they were ignorant of their destination. they had heard rochefort named, but in the vaguest possible manner. deprived of all communication with their families, they could obtain no information as to the destiny which awaited them.
the secret was revealed at surgeres. the mayor insisted that all the prisoners should be lodged at the inn, and had gained his point. pichegru, aubry, and delarue were lying upon mattresses spread upon the floor of a room in the second story, separated from the floor below by planks which were so poorly joined that they could see and hear all that was going on below.
the leaders of the escort, all unsuspecting of the fact that they were both seen and heard, were at supper in the room below. a naval officer had just joined them. every word that they said was of moment to the unfortunate exiles, and they listened attentively.
the supper, which was long and abundant, was very lively. the tortures which they inflicted upon the exiles formed the theme of merriment. but when the supper was finished, about half-past twelve, the naval officer remarked that it was about time to begin operations. this word "operations," as can readily be understood, riveted the attention of the listeners.
a man who was wholly unknown to them, and who acted as guillet's secretary, brought pens, paper and ink, and began to write at that officer's dictation. he dictated a report, that, in conformity with the last orders of the directory, the prisoners were to leave their cages only to go aboard the "brilliant"—a brigantine fitting out at rochefort to receive them.
[pg 564]
pichegru, aubry, and delarue, although thunderstruck by the tenor of this report, made a day ahead of time, which left no doubt as to their deportation, said nothing about it to their companions. they thought that it would be soon enough for them to learn the sad news at rochefort.
they arrived there on the 21st of september, about three or four o'clock in the afternoon. the convoy left the main street and followed the fortification, where an immense crowd awaited them, turned the corner of the square, and went toward the bank of the charente. there was now no longer any doubt, either for those who had heard the fatal secret, or for the thirteen who were as yet ignorant of it. they were about to be sent on shipboard, deprived of the barest necessities of life, and exposed to the dangers of a voyage whose goal was unknown to them.
at last the wagons stopped. some hundreds of sailors and marines, disgracing the uniform of the navy, placed themselves in line with the exiles as they descended from their cages—which they almost regretted, to such extremes were they reduced. ferocious cries welcomed them: "down with the tyrants! into the water with the traitors! into the water with them!"
one of these men stepped forward, doubtless to accomplish his threat. the others pressed after him. general villot walked straight up to him, and folding his arms, said: "villain! you are too great a coward to render me that service!"
a boat approached, an official called to them, and, one after another, as they were named, the exiles got into the boat. the last, barbé-marbois, was in such a desperate condition that the official declared that if they took him aboard in that state he would not live two days.
"what is that to you?" brutally demanded guillet; "you are only responsible for his bones."
a quarter of an hour later the exiles were on board a two-masted vessel lying at anchor in the middle of the river. it was the "brilliant," a little privateer taken from the[pg 565] english. they were received there by a dozen soldiers who seemed to have been especially chosen for the position of executioners. the exiles were thrust into a little space between decks so narrow that scarcely half of them could sit down, and so low that the others could not stand upright. they were obliged to take turns in two positions between which there was not much choice.
an hour after they had been put there some one remembered that they ought to have something to eat. two buckets were sent down, one empty, the other filled with half-cooked beans swimming in reddish water that was even more disgusting than the vessel which contained it. a loaf of bread and some water, the only things of which the prisoners partook, completed the foul repast which was destined for men whom their fellow-citizens had chosen as the most worthy among them to be their representatives.
the exiles would not touch the beans in the bucket—although they had eaten nothing for thirty-six hours—either because they were disgusted with their appearance, or because the guards had not seen fit to give them either spoons or forks; and, as they had to leave the door open in order to admit the air, they were obliged to submit to the jeers of the soldiers, who finally grew so offensive in their language that pichegru, forgetting that he no longer held command over them, ordered them to be silent.
"you will do well to hold your tongue yourself," replied one of them; "you had better be careful, you are not out of our hands yet."
"how old are you?" asked pichegru, seeing that he looked very young.
"sixteen," replied the soldier.
"gentlemen," said pichegru, "if ever we return to france we must not forget this child; he promises well."
