The next morning, the 19th Sept. 1807, at eight o’clock, our gendarme escort entered the inn, and, soon placing us in a cart, conducted us to Boulogne. We arrived at about two in the afternoon, and were unceremoniously handed over to a regular gaoler, a Mons. Verjuis, who gave us in custody to one of his most expert turnkeys. The fellow showed us into our apartment. Shortly after, two small sheaves of straw were sent us as substitutes for beds, and a bucket of water accompanied them, as our sole refreshment. Tuthill, astonished at this supply, asked me seriously what it could mean? I replied, that it was evidently to be our food, and that they thought straw for Englishmen a good substitute for bread!! However, complaint would only have subjected us to ridicule or insult, and without a murmur we drank our water and reposed upon our straw. We had passed many days when the straw would have been a luxury to us, and many nights and days when we would have given a stream of gold for the draught of water.

This day’s excursion had afforded us a view of that formidable flotilla which had so frequently threatened to hurl destruction upon our little island; but with what different emotions did we catch the view of the white cliffs of Dover, and behold an English frigate and lugger blockading the French port. The sight of our country, and of the triumphant flag of our glorious profession—the navy of England,—filled us with desires that were not to be realised, and with hopes in which it was tantalising and vain to indulge. I was a little relieved by a feeling of contempt at the dismantled and decaying flotilla, and by reflecting that had France had the folly to build a thousand times as many flat-bottomed boats as I then beheld, she never could have made any impression on our happy country.

However, neither sentiment nor reflection can be a substitute for food, and the keenness of our appetites soon taught us the absolute necessity of becoming acquainted with our good host. We began to supplicate for relief through the iron bars; and our experience of the French character had taught us the good policy of accompanying each supplication with an assurance that we would pay liberally for whatever we might be supplied with. At length, this man of iron bars and gratings thought proper to pay us a visit. He promised to afford us relief, and we soon got supplied tolerably well with food, and had two mattresses brought us—we still keeping our promise to pay whatever was required. It appeared that this fellow was a great acquisition to Buonaparte’s government: he had been originally a convict sentenced to perpetual imprisonment in chains; he therefore resided in a gaol, and wore small silver chains round his wrists and ankles, and thus literally conformed to his sentence, whilst he was placed in a situation under government.

On Monday the 21st we were conducted to the captain of gendarmes to undergo another examination; and he behaved very like a gentleman. We were interrogated separately. He said that our attempt to gain our liberty was very laudable, and that he felt for our misfortunes. Our march back was to commence the next morning. He exhorted us to have fortitude and patience, and dwelt very much on the cruelty of not having an exchange of prisoners between the two countries. We returned him many thanks for his goodness, and were escorted back to our prison, where we made every necessary arrangement within our power for the next day. This was a task neither difficult nor long, for our luggage or apparel was not calculated to cause us much embarrassment.

On Tuesday, 22nd Sept., we were called betimes by the guard, and in a few minutes were once more en route. The day was excessively wet and the roads heavy, which prevented the guards from chaining us, more especially as we had a very long march to Montreuil, which was twelve or thirteen leagues distant. About five in the afternoon we were placed in the common gaol of Montreuil, which we found a tolerably comfortable prison; but the gaoler and his wife imposed upon us in a shameful manner.

Our route was now through Hesdin and St. Pol, to Arras. The gaoler here behaved with kindness and civility to us, and (with the exception of one) was the most humane man in that situation I ever knew. And in dire necessity of his humanity were we all at this moment; but more especially myself, for so completely knocked up was I from excessive fatigue and exhaustion, by the length of this day’s journey in chains, that I found my head quite dizzy, and had actually swooned and fallen against the prison walls before the gaoler could conduct me to my cell.

The commandant was also extremely civil, and allowed us, at our own request, a chaise, with an escort of two gendarmes (whose names were Potdevin and Pasdevie), to Cambray. Having passed through Bapaume, we called at our old friend the baker’s, where Mr. Essel supposed he had lost his money. He and his children were severally examined; but we could not discover the smallest trace that might lead us to suppose he had taken it: and I must confess I believed the baker to be innocent. At Cambray we dismissed, or, rather, the Arras escort quitted us; and we were conducted to Cateau-Cambresis, where we were put into a most horrible dungeon under ground, nor could anything in our power have any effect on the flint-hearted keeper of it. We fortunately remained but twenty-four hours at this place; thence we were conducted to Landrecies, where we were permitted to stop and get a breakfast. Our landlady here shed tears at seeing us handcuffed in so cruel a manner; yet, in spite of all remonstrances and entreaties, and notwithstanding the obvious inutility of this caution or harshness, our guards would not unshackle a single wrist during the whole time, and the people of the house were literally obliged to feed us.

At about five o’clock on the 29th, we arrived at Avesnes, and were very rudely thrust into the gaol, and placed amongst the worst and lowest class of criminals that it contained. This, we were informed, was by the special order of General Wirion, who, it appeared, had sent an express to all stages on our route, desiring that we should be treated as severely and as indignantly as possible. Our guard seemed to be by no means lax in discipline, for they fulfilled their instructions both to their spirit and letter. A report, moreover, was current at this place, that we were English spies, about to be shot for having been hired to inspect the naval armaments along the French coast. This idea certainly did not procure us the sympathies of the populace, nor did it seem to soften the tempers of our conductors; and all assurances to the contrary on our part were rendered abortive by the fact of our being so heavily manacled, shackled, and loaded with chains. The conclusions from these symbols of guilt were that if we were not spies we were something even worse. What were our disgust and horror when we found that we were thrust into a horrible dungeon with a wretch that was condemned to perpetual imprisonment for having murdered and mutilated both his father and mother! I shuddered every time I beheld this monster, and could not bear his gaze upon me. I was told that the wretch had cut both of his parents into quarters, and had buried them in a pit. Never shall I forget the joy we all felt when at daybreak we were taken from this horrible society. I expressed my astonishment that crimes so heinous should not receive the punishment of death; and then it was, and not till then, that the solution was made clear to me—the unhappy man, upon his trial, had been declared a lunatic. I reflected that, as a lunatic, he ought not to be subject to so cruel a confinement. From all I had seen of French gaols, I entertained a very low idea of the prison discipline, economy, and management of France; but the horrors of that night can never be effaced from my mind.

It was about five o’clock, on the 30th of September, that we were halted at the town of Hirson. The town is without a gaol, but it possessed a little damp, subterranean cell, or dungeon, just capable of containing the four of us. We were thrust into this cachot, or dungeon, and, a little straw being contemptuously thrown upon us, the heavy door was closed, and we were left to the choice of meditation or slumber. We preferred the latter, but vexation made us irritable; when luckily a brigadier of the gendarmerie—who, with two gendarmes, constituted the police of the village—showed his face at the little hole in the door of the dungeon, and informed us that the gaoler’s wife would procure us some sort of refreshment, provided we would pay her, and pay her in advance. This we not only agreed to immediately, but we found our hearts bounding at the intelligence, and we most humbly and gratefully thanked this brigadier for his excessive goodness and condescension. We were soon informed that there was a kind of repast prepared for us, and that we should have permission to go out into the gaoler’s house during the few minutes necessary to refresh ourselves. This intelligence threw us into great confusion, as we had been unaccustomed to such an indulgence, and, in consequence, had neglected to conceal in some secret hole a number of small articles, such as files and gimlets, which we fortunately had hitherto kept in our possession. The moment they were about to open our door, one preferred keeping what tools he had about him, another slipped his in amongst the straw, and in this perplexed state the dungeon was opened and we were ordered out. At this instant I flung from me, over a high garden wall, two small files which I had concealed in my hand when the dungeon door was opened. I protest I thought the things left in the straw were best secured, as the place was excessively dark. We were now seated at table with some soup and bouilli, in great consternation, surrounded by the gendarmes and gaoler. In a few minutes the latter procured a candle and lanthorn, and informed the brigadier he was ready to attend him. He accordingly rose, and they proceeded to the miserable abode we had just quitted. An opinion of our feelings at that moment can only be formed by those unfortunate people who have experienced similar sufferings and anxiety. I can only say that our relish for the soup was not very great; we were well assured that everything left in the straw would inevitably be discovered, which most certainly would lead to a general search of our persons. The brigadier’s generosity was now sufficiently accounted for: he and his companion returned; and, as we expected, they had found every single tool, together with the stock of a double-barrelled pistol—of which I had given charge to Essel, keeping the barrels in my own possession, and another of the same description, with its barrels also. They made very diligent search for the barrels of Essel’s pistol-stock, but without effect. We assured them that we threw the barrels away prior to our quitting Verdun; and that we had taken the stock and lock to use occasionally instead of a tinder-box, which we had no possibility of providing. They began to search us now separately: a few things were found upon my comrades; but, fortunately for me, they did not discover upon my person my pistol, which was more complete than that which they had found, nor the barrels belonging to Essel’s pistol-stock, nor, in fact, anything whatever. Poor Ashworth was less fortunate, for out of the seams of his greatcoat they took two files. They next cut open every covered button, thinking one or all of them might contain some coin; but in this, I have no doubt, they were most mortified and chagrined to be mistaken. The brigadier could hardly convince himself that my walking-stick, which I purchased after leaving Boulogne, did not conceal a sword or dagger. He kept twisting it about and tugging at it, all in vain, and yet so suspicious was he that he chose to keep it for the night. We were reconducted to our den in a state of feeling which can scarcely be conceived. In a few minutes we endeavoured to take what repose we could.

Awaking about midnight, I began to deliberate upon the consequence of having so dangerous a “tinder-box” about me, with all its necessary materials, i.e. ammunition; and, having found what I thought was a convenient place—a hole in the dungeon wall—I deposited the barrels of Essel’s pistol therein, keeping about me still my own complete. The night went off without further disturbance.

At daylight we were again put en route—chained, handcuffed, and closely, even maliciously, watched. The day was very rainy, the roads very bad and heavy; our march was long and fatiguing; and I cannot say that our minds were in the best possible state to cheer us through our sufferings.

It was on the 1st of October, about six in the evening, that we arrived at Maubert Fontaine. Never were poor prisoners in a more miserable plight. We were saturated with rain, and covered with mud. We found that a new dungeon had been built in this village, and into it we were rudely thrust. What the old dungeon might have been, I do not know, but our domicile proved to me that the French could not have made much progress in the art of constructing dungeons. It was a wretched place. A boy, of about ten years old, had been confined in it for six or seven days; he belonged to the neighbouring town of Lille, and was imprisoned for having strolled from home without a passport. The poor little fellow informed us that his food had been nothing but black bread and water; and he stated, not much to my satisfaction, that our arrival had been expected for two or three days, and that we were to be searched most strictly. This boy was of the greatest service to me, and, with his assistance, I contrived to conceal my double-barrelled pistol, or, as I termed it, my tinder-box. I unscrewed the barrels, and, thrusting them into the fingers of my gloves, I kept the glove on, with the fingers bent towards the wrist, so that the pistol-barrels were mistaken for my fingers straight out. The boy helped me to conceal the stock, just as the guard entered to search us. We had nothing else about us now, except our money, which had hitherto been respected, and a small gold watch which I wore, and which they fortunately did not discover. I purchased this watch at Verdun, and wear it even to the present day. We were searched with great strictness and severity; and such were the feelings against us that the guard deprived us of all our money, and, upon our remonstrating, they replied that they would pay out of it all our expenses to Verdun, and account for the balance to General Wirion, at that depot. The reader may easily imagine with what sort of good faith the account was kept, and the amount that remained to be paid to the General. However, this night the guard provided for us, out of our money, what they called a supper; and they procured for us some straw and blankets, which were our only beds. The poor French boy felt himself perfectly happy in having, as he termed it, “something good” to eat. We gave the poor little fellow an ample share of everything that was brought to us; and if he felt the luxury of the unexpected repast, we likewise felt “the greater luxury of doing good.” The guards gaped and stared at the unusual scene; and, after muttering their parbleus and sacrÉs, they shrugged up their shoulders and expressed their astonishment at our generosity. I only wished that generosity was contagious, and that our rapacious, stone-hearted temporary keepers might imbibe our feelings.

The guard visited us every hour during the night; notwithstanding which, I contrived to find an opportunity of getting rid of all the materials of my dangerous “tinder-box,” excepting the barrels.

At daybreak, 2nd October, we were handcuffed and chained to a cart, the roads having become too heavy to admit of our proceeding on foot; and here I got rid of the barrels, by wrapping a little straw round each and dropping them through the cart in the mud.

In the evening we arrived at MeziÈres gaol, and were put into the yard, after being strictly searched; nor could we procure even a dungeon until we had agreed to pay a most exorbitant price which the gaoler charged for some refreshments that he had procured for us. He very laconically observed, “I know the gendarmes have plenty of money which they took from you. You may as well let me have part, as let them have all. You will not stand in need of any in a few days;” thus intimating that we were to be shot as spies, which was the general opinion everywhere.

Our treatment was pretty nearly the same throughout all the way to Verdun, where we arrived at the latter end of October. I was then separated from my companions, being considered as the chef du complot, and was thrown into a miserable dungeon, in which was another prisoner, supposed to have been a spy, and who expected to be brought to trial in a few days, and with no great confidence of being tried with a superfluous regard to justice or mercy. The universal impression that we were to be shot, with which our ears had been dinned at every resting-place upon the road, seemed confirmed by the companion with whom they placed me in this dungeon. I was certain that if only one of the party was to suffer death, that victim would be myself—not only because it is the custom in France to infer that the oldest of a party or gang is the ringleader, or chef du complot, but my conscience told me that I had really been the chief instigator to all that we had done. I made my mind up to bear the execution with a fortitude and dignity that should not disgrace the naval service or national character of my country; I trusted in God that my death would satiate French vengeance, and that my brave companions would be allowed to escape; and finally, in the perfect resignation which I felt to my approaching fate, I was consoled by my conscience telling me that I had committed no crime that merited so sanguinary and ignominious a punishment. I laid my hand upon my heart, and felt that I had done nothing to tarnish the honour of a naval officer and a gentleman.

At daybreak a guard came to conduct me to the place of examination. Here I found Lieutenant Demangeoit, of the gendarmerie, a scrivener, and Mr. Galliers, interpreter. This Lieutenant Demangeoit was afterwards dismissed from the Emperor’s service. My examination continued two or three hours; every question and answer was noted down, and as much form and solemnity as possible were given to the proceedings. I was minutely cross-examined with respect to the pistol-stock, and was sifted over and over again, with both earnestness and cunning, as to where I had been on the days Buonaparte had passed through Verdun. I was interrogated as to what company I had been in, with whom I had breakfasted; and numberless other questions were put to me, without my being able to form the slightest idea of what they suspected or at what object they were aiming. However, it was clear that I was suspected of some offence in relation to the Emperor, and it was certain that there was a determination, if possible, to implicate me in it. Our companion Essel had on that morning given a public breakfast to several of his friends at his lodgings, which happened to be situated immediately in the thoroughfare, or most public part of the town, La Place St. Croix, and close to the windows of which Napoleon and suite must of necessity have passed. Of this circumstance I was ignorant, consequently had no invitation, which at this moment, for me, proved a fortunate event, and evidently explained the cause of this strict and scrutinising examination.

M. le Lieutenant Demangeoit appeared also particularly anxious to ascertain whether my pistols had been purchased previous or subsequent to the breakfast on the day of Buonaparte passing through Verdun. This was evidently done with the intention of, if possible, fixing upon us—but more especially upon me, to whom the articles in question belonged—the atrocious and abominable stigma of a conspiracy and premeditated design to assassinate their Emperor: for whom, however formidable my dislike might have been to the chief of the avowed foes of my country, I entertained not the slightest feeling of personal vindictive animosity. They very much wanted to be informed by whom we had been supplied with ropes, and who had assisted us in descending the ramparts. I replied, “That, by degrees, we had procured sufficient rope for the purpose of horse-collars, and of course twice the length that would have been necessary had we had a friend to assist us in descending by holding it fast; but we had to place the bight over a rock which I knew stood near the place, and then went down by the double part; after which we hauled it to us, cut it to pieces, and threw it into the Meuse.”

I went through all this raking and cross-fire of examination with patience and humility; but, the ordeal being over, I began to remonstrate at the unnecessary cruelty of being separated from my companions. At last it was decided that I should be conducted to their prison, La Tour d’AngoulÊme, they having been removed from it to the place of examination. We were not allowed to see each other until the whole examination was over; but, in passing the guard-room in which they were locked up, I heard their voices, and vociferated to them, “Mind you stick to the old text:” a hint they very well understood. This exasperated the guard, who insisted upon knowing what I had said; but I simply replied, “That I had only said that I was very hungry and wanted my breakfast:” with which he seemed perfectly satisfied. I need not describe the joy we all felt upon being once more together.

We amused ourselves the whole night in talking over the different questions that had been put to each of us; for it had long been our practice to suggest every possible question to which we might be probably exposed, in the event of our being captured, and to agree upon the answers we should make, in order that neither equivocation nor inconsistencies might undo us. The gaoler (Monsieur Percival) supplied us, out of our own funds, with the nourishment that was permitted by the laws of prison discipline. Fire and candle were prohibited.

Some days had elapsed, when we were again conducted to be examined separately. I was the first called into court. The lieutenant (Demangeoit) informed me that there had been certain questions transmitted from the minister at Paris to be put to me, and to which it would be to my interest to give candid answers. In the first place, he was certain that we never could have kept a direct course through the long and difficult route from Verdun to Étaples without guides, especially as it appeared that we had had neither chart nor compass. We had luckily destroyed the compass, and no chart had been found upon us, with the exception of the maps of the departments at Étaples, so I coolly replied, “That English sailors could always steer with sufficient correctness by the stars, and that when those celestial objects were visible they were never at a loss.”

When this question was disposed of, the court wished to be informed, “Whether I knew anything of the coast of France, and whether I had ever been stationed off it?” It struck me that the shipwreck of the Hussar was a pretty clear proof that there was one part of the coast, at least, of which it would appear we had but an imperfect knowledge; but, smiling at the question, I replied, “That every naval officer of England was by far better acquainted with the French coast than even with his own.” I mollified this allusion to our blockading every port of France, and triumphantly sailing round her coasts, by adding, “That we could hardly go up and down Channel without acquiring a knowledge of the northern coast of France;” and at length I left no doubt on their minds with respect to our local knowledge of it. The questions were the same to all the rest, and we were then again reconducted to our prison.

In a week we were ordered to prepare ourselves for a march to the fortress of Bitche, in Lorraine, a wretched place, well known to many of our unhappy countrymen; a place in the dreadful caverns of which many a valuable British subject had terminated his existence in all the agony that illness, despondency, and ill-usage could create. This was my transition from the expected fate of being shot. And here, in some wretched souterrain, we were to remain during the war; nay, they even asserted that it was Buonaparte’s own decree. Death was preferable to such a sentence; but we were resolved to make another effort at all risks, and, if possible, to regain our liberty. Cash alone was wanting. I, however, procured a small supply through the interposition of a worthy countryman, notwithstanding the strict guard that was kept over us. My Samaritan, or friend in need, was the Rev. C. Launcelot Lee (a dÉtenu), Fellow of New College, Oxford, from whom I had at all times received great kindness. He contrived now to assist me in my extreme distress, by giving the money to Mr. Galliers, another worthy Englishman, who had acted as our interpreter. The object was effected dexterously; for Mr. Galliers, in taking leave, at the moment of our setting out for Bitche, when surrounded by the gendarmes, cordially gave me his hand to shake, and pressed the precious treasure into mine. I was obliged to keep this act of generosity a profound secret; for, had it been discovered, it would have been of serious consequences to my two friends.