The Fishguard Invasion by the French in 1797 Part 3

Carnunda is a rock situated just above most things in this region; more especially just under it lies the tiny village and church of Llanunda-Unda being manifestly a saint, though I cannot truthfully say I ever heard anything about him-or her.

We got up to the top of this carn then, and there snugly ensconced between huge boulders of stone-the place is large enough to hold six or seven hundred men, well protected by natural rock-work-we gazed on the scenes all around us.

First at the creek beneath us. It was now pitch dark-for the night was as black as the day had been bright-but the three tall ships of war were lighted up with cressets of fire; the lugger was there and the captured sloop, and the sea around them was alive with boats, still conveying troops to the land. The torches that they carried were reflected on the waves, elsewhere inky black-but here bearing long broken lines of light.

Dark figures swarmed at the landing place, if so one could call, what was merely some flat slabs of rock; and all up the cliffs we saw ant-like beings crawling, and even (by the aid of a little imagination) we could fancy we heard their strong exclamations at the steepness of the path-made even steeper to them by the nature of their occupation, for they were rolling casks (evidently heavy) of gunpowder from where the boats landed them up to the top of the cliff. Some of these dark figures carried torches which shed a fierce glow for a small s.p.a.ce through the black night. As we looked, one of the casks which had been by much effort shoved up to well-nigh the top of the cliffs, suddenly slipped from the Frenchmen's hands and rolled rapidly down the declivity-the roll speedily becoming a succession of jumps and plunges, till with a wild leap the cask fled over a final precipice and disappeared in the sea.

"Thank the Lord for that," said Llewelyn.

Nancy and I laughed aloud. It is impossible to give any idea of the exultation that we felt.

"What words they are using over that!" said Nancy.

"Oh, don't I wish we were near enough to hear them!" said I, totally unmindful of my future profession.

But shortly after we had even greater cause of rejoicing. The enemy (as we had already learnt to call them) were disembarking their cannon, and lowering these unwieldly articles of war into a long boat, but zeal outstripping discretion, they so over-weighted the boat, that lurching forward heavily she upset, and the whole of her c.u.mbrous cargo was shortly at the bottom of the sea. It was a satisfaction even to think of it. Aye, and we may think of it still, for to this very day those foreign cannon are rolling about and rusting in the unquiet waters of Carrig Gwastad creek-a proof, should one ever be needed, of the truth of this strange story.

"Thank the Lord again," said Llewelyn.

CHAPTER III.

THE FATE OF THE CLOCK.

Great bonfires now lit up the side of the hill beneath Trehowel-in the place still called the French camp-and scores of dark figures rushed about with torches flaring wildly in their hands; the whole scene reminding one forcibly of Pandemonium, that is, if one is capable of being reminded of a place one has never seen and that one has no desire to see.

Even the thought of it at the moment was unpleasant to me as bringing my neglected studies to my mind, so I hastily turned my attention once more to the French.

The boats and the sailors had now returned to their ships, having landed the invading hordes (which was the term we usually applied to the Gallic soldiers), who now seemed more bent on cooking than on conquering, on supping than on surprising.

[Picture: Cottage at Castell]

We watched the erection of beams and bars over the huge fires; and the slinging on to the bars of great pots and pans of all sorts-mostly intimate friends of poor Nancy who watched all these proceedings with many a groan and warm e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n as she thought of all her wasted scrubbings in the back kitchen of Trehowel. The precise number of the men who landed that night on a bit (though remote) of Great Britain was fourteen hundred; of whom six hundred were regular troops, and eight hundred were convicts of the basest sort, described, indeed, in the pamphlets of the time as the sweepings of the gaols. Besides these, there were two women; and had the fourteen hundred been animated by the spirit which possessed these two of the weaker s.e.x, the result might have been much more unpleasant to the Princ.i.p.ality than it actually was.

The Welsh woman beside me was not by any means deficient in spirit either, it even sometimes took the form of temper, yet to my astonishment I heard the sound of sobs which could only proceed from her, as Llewelyn was hardly likely to relieve his feelings in this way.

"Oh, Master Dan, wherever is Davy?" she again asked. She called me "master" when she remembered what I was going to be, otherwise my father being only a small tradesman in Fishguard, I was more frequently called Dan. I do not think I have given any description of Ann George, boys do not, as a rule, think much of personal appearance; nor did I. My idea of Nancy had been chiefly connected with the peppermints she had been in the habit of giving me as a child; I thought her a person of a free and generous disposition. She was a tall, fine young woman of five and twenty, with dark hair and eyes (these last being dark grey not brown), decided but pretty eyebrows, a well-shaped nose, and rather large mouth which disclosed when she laughed or talked (which was frequently) handsome white teeth. In short, she was the type of a good-looking Welsh woman. She had also a healthy colour, a warm heart, and a splendid appet.i.te. It was not very surprising that she had (or had had) two admirers.

I at once referred to this fact with a boy's utter want of delicacy in matters of sentiment.

"What are you bothering about Davy for? I thought it was Jim you liked."

"Don't you ever say that fellow's name to me again, Dan'el," said Nancy with animation, her tears dried up and her eyes sparkling. "I hope never to hear of James Bowen again so long as I live."

I whistled. "Was that because he got into trouble for horse-stealing?

Why, as to that, Davy's none too particular."

"Dear anwyl, Dan, talk of what you understand, or hold your tongue! What do I care for their customs and laws? 'Deed to goodness, nothing at all.

As to James Bowen if it had been only that-but there, a child like you can't understand things."

"Can't I!" I shouted, thoroughly incensed-of course we spoke in Welsh, and used a good many more exclamations than I have set down here. "Can't I, indeed. I only know smuggling is-"

"Don't quarrel, children," said Llewelyn, who was of a quiet disposition.

"And don't shout or you'll bring the French upon us. Silence holds it here. {80} Just look there!"

He pointed towards the opposite direction to that in which we had been looking, and where the French were still clambering about the cliffs dragging up the last of their barrels of ammunition and brandy. He pointed towards the steep road which leads from Goodwick to Fishguard.

This road was thronged with people, horses, carts, furniture, cattle all mixed together, and all (the animate ones at least) making their way with such speed as their legs and the hill permitted away from the immediate neighbourhood of the invaders. The lights which some of them carried, and the glare from some gorse which had been set on fire, lit up the straggling, toiling mult.i.tude.

Further off the semi-circle of hills blazed with warning beacons. It was a sight never to be forgotten; a sight that had not been seen in this island for centuries. From our high nest in the rocks we had but to turn our heads to see all. In front of us to the north stretched the sea; a little to the north-west was the creek where the French had landed, where we could dimly discern the tall masts of the war-ships lighted up fitfully by cressets of fire. At the top of the cliff was Trehowel, and close by was the French camp surmounted by the tricolor flag. A little nearer us was Brestgarn, where Llewelyn lived, and just at our feet was the village and church of Llanunda. Goodwick lay to the east of us; there was a steep hill down to it, a magnificent flat of sands, with sea on one side and marsh on the other, and then a steep hill up from it leading ere long to Fishguard. The sea came round the corner from the north in order to form that deep and beautiful Goodwick Bay, where trees and rocks, gardens and wild waves, luxuriant vegetation and marshy barrenness are so strangely mixed. Behind all, to the south and southeast came the mountains; and towards the fastnesses therein most of these fugitives were wending their way.

"Deuks!" said Llewelyn, "they are coming out to see what they can get, the scoundrels; I must run back to Brestgarn."

"Let me come," said I, on the impulse of the moment-though my knees shook as I saw small dark clumps of men leaving the main ma.s.s and coming towards us; but Llewelyn inspired confidence, and curiosity has a courage of its own; then I suddenly bethought me of Ann George.

"But what will you do, Nancy?" I asked.

"I will go to my Aunt Jemima, I'll be safe enough with her; don't trouble about me, my dear," said Nancy, our short-lived quarrel being happily over.

"That is in Fishguard, you can't go there alone, wait a bit for me," said I, with youthful a.s.surance.

"I can hide you at Brestgarn if you want to come, but better go on to Fishguard," said Llewelyn.

By this time, however, we were almost at the farm, for we had run down the steep side of Carnunda without any delay.

As we drew near to the house we found from the uproar therein that it was already full of Frenchmen. Very cautiously we approached a window and peeped in. We saw a strange sight. The kitchen was filled with ragged ruffianly fellows, all gesticulating with all their limbs, and screeching with all their lungs. Of course we did not understand a word they said, which, perhaps, was no loss under the circ.u.mstances. They were dressed in all sorts of uniforms-some of them in a dusky red (our soldiers' coats dyed, as I afterwards heard), others wore the regular dark blue of the French army. An enormous fire blazed on the hearth, on which they had placed a large bra.s.s pan, geese and fowls only half-feathered had been hastily thrown into it, and now they were literally cramming it with b.u.t.ter, which they dug out of a cask they had dragged in from the dairy.

Suddenly a shout arose, apparently from the ground beneath us.

"Deuks!" said Llewelyn, again. "They've found the port."

Llewelyn did not allude to any of the harbours in the neighbourhood, but rather, it may be, to the lack of one, which had perhaps occasioned the wrecking of a vessel from Oporto laden with the wine of the district.

"No odds, don't fret for the wine," whispered Nancy. "We'll get plenty again. I only hope there's a good store of brandy in the houses, too."

We got our brandy in a different way, but also inexpensively, and there was at times a considerable stock of it, and tobacco, too, in the farmhouse cellars.

Llewelyn, however, was much perturbed: he had volunteered to stay to look after the household goods, and he didn't seem to be able to do much. The delight of the Frenchmen at such an unexpected treasure-trove was indeed exasperating. Down flowed the generous liquid through throats the outsides of which were much in want of shaving, elbows were raised, and voices also in the intervals of quaffing. Suddenly one man paused in his potations, the bra.s.s face of the old clock that stood in the corner had caught his eye, and the loud ticking of it had caught his ear.

Screeching something that sounded like "enemy," he levelled his musket and fired straight at the clock. The bullet went through the wood-work with a loud sound of splitting.

"Brenhin mawr!" yelled Llewelyn, forgetting all caution in his exasperation. "The scoundrels have shot our eight day clock!"

Unfortunately his remark was overheard; and indeed his yell shot into the midst of those rioting ruffians like a pebble into a wasp's nest. Out they flew, evidently infuriated; but we waited for no explanations, taking to our heels on the instant, with the prompt.i.tude of extreme fear.

Nan and I were light of heel, and favoured by the darkness-yet more black to those who came from that blaze of light-we got clear away; but turning ere long to look, we perceived that Llewelyn had not been so fortunate, he was older and a good deal heavier than we were; and then his righteous anger had rendered him rather breathless before he began to run. He was now surrounded by a crowd of foreigners, all jabbering and gesticulating as hard as possible. Our hearts were sore at having to leave our companion in this plight, but there was no help for it, to attempt a rescue would have been, under the circ.u.mstances, worse than folly. So we ran along across country, avoiding all roads, and making straight for Goodwick.

CHAPTER IV.

THE PRIEST'S PEEP-HOLE.