Under the Meteor Flag Part 11

Now _pray_ do not fumble at your knife again, that is an excessively bad habit which you have contracted; take my advice and break it off. If you do not, it will a.s.suredly get you into serious trouble some day."

The individual thus addressed muttered some inaudible reply, which sounded, however, very much like an imprecation, to which his tormentor responded with a gay laugh. Then I heard the door creak upon its solitary hinge and sc.r.a.pe along the ground, as it was dragged open, and the voice of the Frenchman said, addressing some one outside,--

"Well, Pierre, how are things in general looking by this time?"

"Much better, _mon sergent_" replied another voice. "The rain has ceased, the clouds are dispersing, and yonder appears the first gleam of daybreak."

"That is well," remarked the sergeant. "We will wait another half-hour, by which time it will be light enough to see where we are going, and then we must march once more."

The door creaked-to again; I heard a sound as of some one settling himself comfortably, and then all was once more silent, save for the sound of heavy breathing, of which I had been cognisant all through the foregoing conversation.

I had been fully awakened, as may easily be supposed, by almost the first words which I had distinctly heard; but I had presence of mind enough not to give any indication of the fact. It was clear that this rascally Corsican--who appeared to be regularly in league with the enemy--had unfortunately witnessed my landing, and he must also have overhead and understood much if not all of the conversation which had pa.s.sed between Rawlings and myself. And it seemed equally clear that he had put the Frenchmen upon my track, and that to him I was chiefly indebted for my unlucky capture--for of course I _was_ a prisoner, though they had not roused me to make me acquainted with the fact. As soon as the conversation ceased, I rapidly turned the circ.u.mstances over in my mind, and decided upon two things, one of which was to keep secret my knowledge of the French language, and the other, to act upon the idea suggested by the sergeant's words, and lead him to believe that my bag with the despatches had been stolen from me. For the rest, I was unable to form any plan, my original one of pa.s.sing for a German art student being completely knocked on the head by the Corsican's discovery; so I resolved to be governed by the turn which events might take.

On one thing I was resolved, and that was to keep careful watch for an opportunity to escape, as I was in imminent risk of being hanged or shot at any moment, so long as I remained a prisoner.

Notwithstanding my anxiety, I was dozing off once more, when footsteps approached me, a hand was laid on my shoulder, and the voice of the sergeant exclaimed in French, "Hallo, here! awake, my young friend, awake!"

I opened my eyes with a start, and saw standing before me a young man of about four-and-twenty years of age. He was dressed in the uniform of a French regiment of the line--blue tunic, red trowsers with a stripe of yellow braid down the seam, red forage cap trimmed with the same, and his sword buckled close up to his belt. He had dark hair and eyes, the latter of which beamed upon me good-naturedly, and he had a pleasant expression of countenance, which afforded me much comfort.

Seated or reclining in more or less uncomfortable att.i.tudes against the walls of the hut were some five-and-twenty men wearing a similar uniform, their muskets being piled in the middle of the room; while, apart from the rest, was a man standing with his back towards me, gazing abstractedly out of the window. He was dressed in the ordinary Corsican garb, and was leaning upon a long-barrelled musket, the b.u.t.t of which rested upon the floor, his hands being crossed upon the muzzle of the barrel, and his chin resting upon them.

"Good morning!" said I in English to the sergeant, as I struggled to my feet; "who are you, pray, and where have you come from?"

"Approach, most amiable Guiseppe, and lend us your valuable aid as interpreter," said the sergeant, turning to the Corsican; "and see, my friend, that you interpret correctly. What was it he said?"

The Corsican, whose brutal and sinister countenance fully justified the sergeant's previous remarks upon it, translated my salutation into excellent French.

"Tell him," said the sergeant, "that you saw him land, and overheard sufficient of his conversation with his fellow-officer to satisfy you that he is the bearer of despatches from the English to one of your countrymen; that you betrayed him, and that I and my men were in consequence sent out to scour the country in search of him. Tell him also that, being found, he may make up his mind to be hanged before sunset; or--no, do not say anything about the hanging at present, he will know all about that soon enough, poor lad!"

The rascal translated this speech in a manner to suit himself; that is, he said never a word concerning his own treachery, but to make up for the omission he included that part which had reference to my probable speedy fate.

Of course I had learned pretty much all this in the first conversation between him and the sergeant; it was no news to me, but it terribly confirmed the surmises which had suggested themselves to my mind when I first became conscious that I was a prisoner. There was a single ray of hope, it is true, to which I clung, but it was by no means bright. I was evidently to be taken before his commanding officer, and I would acquaint him with the fact of my being a British officer, and claim to be treated as a prisoner of war. But then there was the ugly fact of my being in plain clothes--how was that to be got over? There was of course the shadow of a possibility that I might get out of my difficulties, could I but fabricate a sufficiently ingenious string of falsehoods; but now that it actually came to the point, I could not bring myself to the depths of meanness and cowardice which this involved. I had learned at school the maxim that "liars never prosper,"

and my dear old father had taught me to avoid falsehood from much higher considerations than those of mere temporal prosperity. I determined therefore that, whatever the danger, I would not endeavour to shield myself by anything so despicable as a lie.

In the meantime it was no use to be down-hearted over my misfortune, that would only tend to make matters worse instead of better; besides which, I had no notion of showing my enemies that I was disheartened or apprehensive; so I brightened up, and a.s.suming a great deal more nonchalance than I felt, I directed the Corsican to inquire our destination, and also to say that I hoped we should breakfast before starting, as I felt frightfully hungry.

He interpreted my question, adding that, as he supposed the sergeant could find his way back to Ajaccio without a.s.sistance, he would now leave us, as he had several matters requiring his immediate attention.

Before going, however, he trusted that the sergeant would pay him the reward promised in case of my capture, or give him a note to the colonel, certifying that he had duly performed his contract.

The sergeant seemed rather surprised at the proposal; beyond expressing, however, an ironical regret that the party was to be deprived of Master Guiseppe's entertaining society, he made no demur, and drawing an old letter from his pocket he scribbled in pencil on the inner side of the envelope the required certificate, which he handed over to the Corsican with the remark,--

"There you are, most glorious Apollo; take care of it, for it is worth _more_ than you are likely to honestly earn for many a year to come.

Will you stay and have some breakfast? No? Well, good-bye then for the present; I dare say we shall meet again."

"a.s.suredly, signor, and not long hence, I trust. For breakfast I have all I require with me, and I shall eat as I travel, since time is precious with me, and I wish to get a lift as far as Ajaccio in one or other of the market carts. _Au revoir_!"

The Corsican flung his musket over his shoulder as he spoke, and, thrusting the certificate into his ammunition pouch, strode out of the hut and disappeared, just as one of the men entered with a pot of hot coffee, which had been prepared outside.

Upon this the sergeant produced some bread and meat from his wallet, and drawing forth a knife divided it into two equal parts, one of which he offered me, saying,--

"Come, _mon enfant_, eat and be merry while you have the opportunity.

We have a long tramp before us, and for you there is probably a still longer journey afterwards; still, do not let that spoil your appet.i.te.

We cannot understand each other, but I am sorry for you, _pauvre garcon_! and we may as well be friends for the short time that remains."

He offered me his hand, as he said this, which I shook heartily.

The speech was by no means calculated to raise my spirits, but I took pains to conceal my knowledge of its import, hoping that my supposed ignorance of the language would cause the men to speak unrestrainedly to each other, and perhaps let fall some piece of information of value, should I see a chance to make my escape.

We fell to at our breakfast, for which, strange to say, I had a very tolerable appet.i.te, notwithstanding the disastrous turn which my affairs had taken, and the soldiers, producing what provisions they had, also set their teeth to work upon them with a will, laughing and chattering gaily together meanwhile, but without letting drop any information likely to help me out of my difficulty.

Breakfast over, the men fell in. I was placed in the centre of the body, the sergeant giving instructions to those having my more immediate custody to shoot me on the instant, should I make any attempt to escape.

The word was given to march, and we tramped away across the moor for about a couple of miles, when we struck upon a beaten track, into which we turned, and which I learned from a remark made by one of the men was the road to Ajaccio.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BELL' DEMONIO.

As we trudged along, I had an opportunity to study to some extent the characteristics of the individuals forming my escort, and I may say without reserve that a more unprepossessing set of men it has seldom been my lot to encounter. With the solitary exception of the sergeant, who seemed a gay, careless, good-natured fellow enough, they appeared to be a thoroughly "bad lot:" low, ruffianly-looking men in their outward semblance, and--judging from their conversation, much of which, however, I failed to understand from their liberal use of what is now termed "slang"--utterly given over to the indulgence of the lowest and most degrading forms of vice, scoffing at all things pure and holy, and luxuriating in the recital of deeds of all manner of cruelty and debauchery.

I had heard something of the terribly-brutalising effects of the Reign of Terror, but the conversation of these wretches gave me such a vivid insight of the incredible depths of depravity of which the human mind is sometimes capable as I could certainly not otherwise have gained, unless indeed by a.s.sociating with the ruffians who gathered daily round the guillotine to insult and exult over the death-agonies of their victims.

It was not to be expected that I should altogether escape the attentions of wretches such as these, and accordingly my ears were soon a.s.sailed with ribald jests and ruffianly speculations touching the mode and time of my execution, the manner in which I should bear myself, and so on; but I turned a deaf ear to it all, devoting my entire energies to the devising of some practicable method of escape, and, as it appeared to them that I understood nothing of what was said, my tormentors after a time turned their conversation to other matters.

"I expect we shall very soon make another excursion in this direction,"

said one.

"Indeed, and for what purpose?" asked another.

"Nay, then, has it not been told thee, Adolphe, that our colonel suspects one of these Corsican aristocrats of being concerned in the present rising of his countrymen, and of plotting with the accursed English for a.s.sistance?" remarked the first speaker.

"_Mille bombes_! that it might be so. It would be rare sport to hunt the old rat out of his hole, or, better still, burn him in it. It would be a pleasant change from the dullness of mounting eternal guard, marching and countermarching every day, and all to what purpose? For my part I am tired of it, and long for a little more of the sport we had in dear Paris. Ah! it was worth living for, to see fifty or sixty of the proud aristocrats carted away to the guillotine every day. I doubt if there is such a thing as a guillotine in the whole island."

"_Soyez tranquille, mon cher Adolphe_! The machine is not difficult to construct. But for real amus.e.m.e.nt give me such as we had at Ostend, when Davoust shot down with grape 500 men, women, and children under the ramparts, to say nothing of those which we sent afloat in the harbour in old and leaky boats which sank with all on board. And, ah, the sport that it was to chase the people through the streets until they could fly no longer, and then bayonet them! You were there, Antoine, _mon camarade_! you have not forgotten the day?"

"And never shall," responded Antoine, the most ruffianly-looking of the whole party. "A day or two like that would bring these vile Corsicans to their senses. 'Give them plenty of bayonet,' say I. And if you want real sport, do as I did: chase the mothers until they drop, then bayonet their children first, and themselves afterwards. But do not bayonet the mothers _too_ soon, or you rob yourself of half your amus.e.m.e.nt."

"Good! ah, ah! _very_ good indeed!" laughed the wretches.

"But say, Baptiste, _mon cher_, who is this Corsican of whom you were speaking?"

"He is called Count Lorenzo Paoli," responded Baptiste. "He has a fine place away yonder among the hills, which, it is said, would make those rich who could have the plundering of it. And, moreover, he has a daughter--ah! but she is simply divine," and the brute smacked his lips in a way which made me long to spring at his throat. "_Le cher Guiseppe_--is he not delightful?--says that this boy Englishman has papers which are thought to be for this rascally Count, and if it be so, _ma foi_! but there will be rare doings at the chateau before long."

It may be imagined what were my feelings on hearing this.

How fervently I blessed the lucky inspiration which prompted me to conceal my bag, and how much more imperative now became the necessity that I should effect my escape without delay, not only for my own sake, but in order also that I might recover possession of those compromising papers, and warn the Count of the fearful danger which threatened him.

There was much more conversation of the kind recorded above, but I will not revolt the reader's feelings by repeating it; what I have already given is intended merely to convey an idea of the unparalleled ruffianism and brutality which characterised the soldiery of the Republic at that period.