We had now reached about the noon of the 17th of October 1808, when an escort or guard was appointed for our custody, and we were put upon our march for Salzburg. Our fate depended on what might be the momentary disposition of the Austrian Government towards England and America. We resolved to persevere in our American fiction, if nothing arose to induce us to the contrary. At about two we arrived at Salzburg. This is a fine fortified city, the capital of the duchy of Salzburg, with a strong castle on the mountain. It has a university, and two noble palaces. The town lies on both sides of the river Salza, and is situated between three mountains. The buildings of the town were very remarkable, but we were not in a humour, or under circumstances, to attend to such subjects, or to indulge in the taste of amateurs.

We were conducted to one building, the town house, where we were put under strict interrogatories by the Director of the Police. Our inquisitor, however, was a well-bred, gentlemanly officer, and he spoke four languages with great fluency.

He first asked us in French, what countrymen we were. We would not understand him. He then put to us the same question both in Italian and German: we were equally ignorant. He next asked us our country in English. Now we understood him, and promptly answered that we were Americans.

“How have you contrived,” he demanded, “to enter the Emperor of Austria’s dominions without regular passports? You will be considered as spies.”

I laconically asked him, Whether spies would not furnish themselves with passports, in order to facilitate their designs? and I further asked him, What knowledge of a country could be obtained by spies, in our destitute condition and humble class of life? We had not a sheet of paper or a black-lead pencil amongst us, and were, in point of money, paupers.

This gentleman seemed struck by these obvious truths, but he insisted upon our giving some account of ourselves.

I was the spokesman, and I replied as follows: “We belonged,” I said, “to an American ship which was taken by the Danes (under the Berlin and Milan decrees) for having been boarded and overhauled by two English frigates in the English Channel, on her passage to the Baltic.[31] Our names,” I added, “are Manuel (alias Hewson), chief mate; Henderson, surgeon (alias Barklimore); and myself, Lincoln, who unfortunately happened to be a passenger.”

He then requested that each of us would make out, in writing, a regular specification of who and what we were, and bring it to him the next morning. He should send us to a tavern for the night, and requested we would not stir from it without his permission. He expressed also his astonishment at our having crossed the Continent without being able to speak any other language than English, and added, That if we were even Englishmen, we had nothing to fear from the Austrian Government. My God! I never felt more happy than at hearing these words—how they soothed my mind! I however feigned not to comprehend him perfectly, that my ears might again hear them repeated; and my heart rebounded with joy when he reiterated that, were we English, we should have nothing to fear from the Austrians. I felt so confident that a man in his station would not tell an untruth, that I was actually on the point of declaring who and what we really were. However, I governed myself and restrained my desire to relate the truth, although I am at a loss to explain how I was able to do so; and, turning to my companions, I observed that we had better proceed to the tavern, as we were very much fatigued. The Director ordered a sergeant to show us the way. We took a cordial leave of this worthy old gentleman, and followed our guide.

At the tavern we were received as American travellers, and had an excellent supper and good beds; we felt superlatively happy. What a vast difference between our present situation and that of only a few hours before, when between the two barriers!

The next morning (Tuesday the 18th) we rose early, and endeavoured to dress ourselves as well as we could—at least, as well as our tattered garments would admit of; so we procured a change of linen, and prepared to wait on the Director. We agreed to continue the American story, until we could be well assured of the disposition of the Austrian Government towards Englishmen. At ten we visited the Director, who again expressed great astonishment at our travelling with such success so great a distance, and wondered that we had nothing whatever about us to certify that we were Americans. “Mr. Manuel” was at the same time writing his declaration. The old gentleman again observed to me that there were frequently Englishmen passing through Salzburg, who had escaped from France, and who always found an asylum in Austria. I paid very great attention to this important information. The chief mate had now finished his declaration; and “Mr. Lincoln, passenger,” was to begin next. I really could not reconcile it to myself to draw up a false declaration, especially as it appeared that we ran no risk in declaring the truth; and I therefore pointed out to the others the consequences that such a step might occasion, with the certainty of being found out, as no doubt the court of Vienna would make every necessary inquiry, through their consul at Altona, before they would pay any credit to our statement. The result of this would of course be that we should be found impostors, and perhaps not be believed when we declared what we were in reality. Making a virtue of necessity was our best policy. They both agreed that my remarks were just; and I was requested by them to take the old gentleman aside, and make him acquainted with the whole of the circumstances. I accordingly did so, and proved to him by a certificate,[32] which I kept always sewed up in my clothes, that we were British officers. He said it had appeared to him at first sight that we were English prisoners-of-war, who had escaped from the French. I related the whole of our history. He regretted much that he could not instantly grant us passports, since it was necessary to acquaint the Government at Vienna, and have their sanction, but he said we should have an answer in fifteen days at most; and he jocosely added, “You have been five years nearly in France, so you cannot have any objection to remain amongst us for a few days.” He was excessively kind; and I could not avoid communicating to him that our finances were reduced to the lowest ebb. The kind old man soon comforted me on this score, by stating that, whilst we were detained, the Austrian Government would allow us a certain sum per diem, in proportion to our respective ranks. He begged that we would make ourselves as comfortable as possible at our inn, told us to dismiss all care and anxiety from our minds, and requested, rather than ordered us, to keep ourselves within doors, until we heard further from him.

We took our leave most respectfully and gratefully; and as we returned to the tavern, we could not help contrasting this urbanity and kindness with the brutal severity which it had been our unhappy lot to experience for so many years. The effect of kindness towards the distressed is to elevate the character of those that bestow and those that receive it.

Mr. Hewson, this evening, wrote to his friend Mr. Concannon, at Vienna, who had been a dÉtenu in Verdun and obtained his liberty (this gentleman was subsequently member for Coventry), to beg him to use his influence with the authorities in our behalf.

The Director sent daily his compliments “to the American gentlemen (for out of policy towards France we were still considered under this character), and requested to know how we were;” and the landlady and waiters declared, that, until they had seen us, they had imagined that all Americans were negroes. In the dusk of the evening we sometimes contrived to steal out and reconnoitre the town and suburbs; and I had fixed on a plan of escape, in the event of the Austrian Government coming to a resolution to give us up to the cruel and hated enemy. Perhaps the suspicion was not very worthy of us, and could only be justified by what we had suffered at the hands of the French.

We had been ten days and nights in this sort of indulgent durance, when, on the eleventh morning, before we were out of bed, an officer rapped at our door, and told us that the Director wished to see one of us immediately. Hewson sprang out of bed, dressed himself quickly, and obeyed the summons. During our friend’s absence, Barklimore and myself were in a state of great perplexity. It rushed into my mind that the French or Bavarian governments might have demanded us from the Austrians. This apprehension overwhelmed me; but I concealed my emotions, strong as they were, from my friend, who at the time was suffering greatly from fever and ague.

Hewson shortly returned, and his countenance soon dissipated all our apprehensions, for his joy was so excessive that in vain did he endeavour to put on dismal looks in order to worry us. With an assumed air of sorrow, he told us that he much feared we were to be sent back to France. But we were not so ignorant of physiognomy that we could not perceive that he was almost bursting with some happy intelligence. At last he congratulated us that we were at length free men—our liberty was secured as firmly as if we had taken “a bond from Fate.” In fact, the Director had received a despatch from Vienna, in which the Austrian Government had acknowledged us as English subjects and officers, and in which they had directed him to give us passports to proceed wherever we pleased; and the Director added that we were now at liberty, and that we might quit the town that day if we wished. Good and gracious God! what intelligence to people who have been nearly five years in severe and bitter slavery! We sprang out of bed, fell on our knees, and, with hearts full of gratitude to our Great Creator for His unbounded mercies and goodness, we greeted each other as free people.

We instantly agreed to wait upon our worthy friend, the Director, and evince to him how grateful we were for his attention and kindness. He received us in the most handsome manner, and appeared as much elated as if he had been in our situation. He wished to know how we meant to travel to Trieste? We answered, on foot, as our finances were low; though we dreaded the doctor’s incapacity, his last fever having been so severe that he had been bled and blistered several times; but he was now somewhat better, though weak.

Our passport for Trieste was, during this time, making out, and in half an hour we were to return for it. In the meantime we went back to the tavern to make the necessary preparations, and get some breakfast. It was a luxurious meal. The moment we entered, the landlord presented us with an answer to Mr. Hewson’s letter, from his friend at Vienna. It informed us of the success that had attended our application at that city, with respect to our passports, and contained an order on his banker at Salzburg, to supply us with what money we might deem necessary to defray our expenses to Trieste, and enable us to travel with ease and comfort. Providence appeared too bountiful. We waited on the banker, got the sum necessary, and called on the worthy Director to give him the intelligence. He appeared much pleased, congratulated us on our success, and ordered our passports to be made out to go by the diligence. This proved very fortunate for our sick companion.

The hour of departure arrived; and now behold us in the diligence, free from all terrors, and elated to the highest pitch at the consciousness that we were on the road to the margin of the sea, where we should once more behold “The meteor flag of England,” and have it again waving over our heads.

Our journey was interesting. The first night we had to pass through intricate roads amidst immense mountains covered with snow. The appearance of the inhabitants was in unison with the scenery. They were grotesque in dress, and seemed wild. The guard of the diligence was inclined to be insolent, and evidently abetted the innkeepers in their “tricks upon travellers”—tricks of extortion. However, at the fourth stage we got rid of this bad specimen of Nature’s workmanship, for we were removed from the diligence, and put into a waggon, which took us to Villach, and thence to Clagenfurt. The waggon was without springs, and, over the rough mountainous roads, we were jolted almost to death. Our sick friend must have suffered dreadfully; but he bore his pains with his usual fortitude and self-command.

In the waggon we were eight in number; our companions were boys who were returning to the university after the vacation. They annoyed us much with their colloquial or dog Latin; and the young rogues made us the subject of their jokes and satire, on the supposition that we could not understand them.

At Clagenfurt we found that we had missed our road to Trieste by several leagues, owing to those who had inspected our passports at Villach not having given us the necessary information. At first we were informed that we must go back to that town to have the error rectified; but, upon explaining the difficulties and hardships that attended retracing our steps, the authorities very kindly did away with every difficulty, and we retired to the Golden Sun tavern, where we had supper and beds.

We were here apprised that we had better perform the next day’s journey on foot, as the mountains were so excessively high that if we had a carriage we should be obliged to walk the greater part of the way. This information made us determine to proceed on foot the next morning; and we accordingly rose at daybreak (Sunday, 30th October), and commenced our journey. Such mountains as we passed this day I never before beheld. We walked twelve leagues before seven in the afternoon, six of them almost ascending perpendicularly, and the remaining six descending in the opposite direction—the great road was zig-zag, but we did not keep to it. We at last arrived at a small post-town, at the foot of a prodigious precipice. After getting some refreshments, we took post for Laibach, and travelled all night. At daybreak we entered the town, and immediately proceeded to a tavern where we got beds, and retired for a few hours to rest. Our passport was taken to the Director of Police to be inspected. At about nine he sent for us, asked us a few questions, and returned our passport properly endorsed and certified.

On the 31st of October, at ten, we took post for Trieste, and arrived on the 4th of November, at about eight o’clock, after a most tedious, harassing, and vexatious journey. The reader who traces the distance on the map or the itinÉraire, and calculates the time of our going over the ground, will understand the vast difference, even at that time, between English travelling, and travelling on the Continent.

On the night after quitting Laibach we had a very high and precipitous mountain to ascend; and our horses being of the most sorry breed of cattle, I dismounted, and took a short cut up the mountain. At eleven at night I saw an immense bonfire at a distance from the road I was on. A number of people were collected round it. Not a house was in view; the carriage was at least four miles below me; and as the road was a perfect zig-zag, the wild character of the mountain scenery made me hesitate to approach the spot. At last I got so near that I was discovered, and two men ran towards me. I had no right to expect courtesy, or decency, or even safety, in such a wilderness, and the fellows rudely asked me in German who and what I was. In broken German I told them that I did not understand what they said, and I asked if they spoke French. They answered “No.” The whole scene was so awfully wild that it was worthy of the pencil of Salvator Rosa; and even his pencil could not have done justice to it. “Do you speak Italian?” said I, and a fierce “No” was my only satisfaction. At last I ejaculated, “Do you speak English?” and, to my utter astonishment, both vociferated the English “Yes,” with the addition “perfectly well.” I was thunderstruck at the reply; for who would have expected to find the English language on a bleak and barren mountain in this part of the world? I found that one of the men was a native Irishman, and that the other was a German that had been long in the British service. Our countryman, Paddy,—for my companions were also Irish,—informed me, with a revival of the brogue, which he had forgotten, or flattered himself that he had forgotten for many years, that the mountains were so infested with banditti, that he and his party were posted there to arrest depredators and protect travellers. I must confess that I thought that these robber-catchers had taken a rather odd method of pursuing their vocation; as their huge bonfire exposed their watch-station, and consequently enabled the banditti to avoid them, and perpetrate their crimes with impunity. Perhaps the Hibernian had engrafted on the Germans the genius (generally considered indigenous) of his country for such sort of mistakes. At length the carriage came up, and, jumping into it, I bade a long adieu to such strange mountaineer policemen, after giving them a trifle that we could but badly afford.

I need not dwell on the pleasure we felt this morning at beholding the gulf of Trieste, and the ships and vessels lying in the harbour, amongst which was a Russian squadron, consisting of four sail of the line, one frigate, and a store-ship. We also discovered a ship at anchor some leagues out, which, to our very great satisfaction, we were informed was his Britannic Majesty’s frigate the UnitÉ, Captain Campball, who, they said, blockaded that port. This was the most welcome news imaginable. We were now certain of being able to join our native flag; how did my heart pant to be afloat on the ocean, and under the English standard! Compared to that summit of liberty, even my present security and recent freedom of travelling seemed to me as slavery.

We waited on the Director of police, who received us with great politeness, and had us conducted to the first tavern in the town; requesting that we would still say we were Americans. A Borea, or N.E. wind, which in the Adriatic is most violent, was then setting in: he assured us it would be impossible to get embarked until the gale abated, but that he would render us every assistance in due time. There was a gentleman named Danolan (who had formerly been the English vice-consul) then in town. We waited on him, and he proved in every sense of the word a real friend; he engaged to get us embarked, supplied us with cash, and offered us to remain at his house if we wished: his wife was equally polite and attentive. The inclemency of the weather was the only thing at this moment that prevented our happiness being complete.

We returned to the tavern, and passed our moments as comfortably as possible under existing circumstances; dined at the table d’hÔte with the Russian officers of the squadron, who at first, I imagine, supposed that we actually were Americans, but afterwards, from a number of insinuations thrown out by them, and the marked attention they paid us, I became confident that they had discovered what we were.

Notwithstanding the severity of the weather, Hewson and myself ascended an adjacent height, when our breasts expanded and our minds glowed at the sight of the Adriatic. Our concealment in woods, and terrors at towns, our swampy beds, drenched backs, and starved stomachs, were most pleasurable reminiscences, when we felt that they had led us to the “high top gallant of our joy,” and that we now saw our glorious element, with a little frigate under old England’s flag, blockading the port, and keeping the whole line of coast in awe. The marine of this coast, I verily believe, thought that they might as easily fight the devil himself as attempt to compete with an English squadron.[33] Let us reflect upon this immense distance from the arsenals and resources of England, and then shall we see that never had a nation established such an irresistible superiority over all enemies, as England had consummated by her naval triumphs, and by her naval economy and management. Thrice happily did we hail our glorious country, as we saw her flag triumphant on the wave.

On Monday night, the 7th November, the weather became moderate, the English frigate got under weigh, and I feared that she might be quitting her station. So anxious was I to be once more on a quarter-deck, that it never occurred to me that the blockade could not be raised, and, that if she left, another must resume the station. We repaired to our friend Mr. Danolan, who assured us that he had provided all things for our departure; and, by his arrangement, by half-past eight we had embarked, and in a short time we were clear of the harbour. However, a few minutes before we embarked I put into the post-office a letter directed to my friends Tuthill and Ashworth, in the real German character, giving them a minute detail of the course we had taken, and all particulars relative to our successes, which they fortunately received, and which afterwards enabled them to escape.

We rowed towards the point where I had calculated we should find the English frigate; but, to our mortification, we were disappointed. When the moon was up we weighed, and stood out for her; but, to the grief of my heart, we could not fall in with her. I concealed all the tortures of my mind, lest I should afflict my comrades.

We kept rowing in different directions, on a sort of forlorn hope, until daybreak, when we observed a man-of-war’s boat pulling right down for us. It ran alongside of us, and asked in English what we were. I sprang up at hearing the English language, and, with inexpressible joy, saw that it was a British ship-of-war’s boat. I answered that we were three British subjects who had escaped from a French prison. Having been informed that it was the Amphion’s boat, I assured the officer we should be very happy to quit our present conveyance, and take a passage with him to the frigate. He replied, “The ship is at present at a considerable distance off; I shall not return until eight o’clock.” I answered that that was of little consequence; two of us belonged to the navy, and we would willingly take a cruise along the coast with him, if he had no objection. “Very well,” was his rejoinder. So we paid our boatmen, dismissed them, and had the happiness of being once more under our proper colours, and on our own element.

Upon turning round, and looking at the officer who commanded the boat, how excessive were my surprise and joy when I instantly recognised Lieutenant Jones, an old friend and shipmate of 1802. I immediately made myself known to him, and this excellent fellow exultingly expressed his gladness that he should have been the officer that had had the good fortune of picking us up.

I was astonished at finding that the Amphion, instead of the UnitÉ frigate, was the ship lying at anchor off Trieste. Lieutenant Jones cleared the point up by stating that the Amphion had arrived only that night, and that his Majesty’s ship L’UnitÉ had weighed and stood lower down the gulf. Strange was it that my old ship and friend should arrive on the very night that the weather favoured our embarkation from Trieste.

This morning, November the 8th, 1808, I shall never forget. We felt in perfect security, and were amusing ourselves by narrating anecdotes of our escape, recalling to mind the horrors of the “Mansion of Tears,” and in indulging hopes in favour of our friends within its walls, when at eight o’clock our amusement was put an end to by the discovery of two strange sail under Capo d’Istria. We took them for enemy’s merchant-vessels, stealing along shore. Lieutenant Jones made directly towards them. One we soon perceived was full of men, and was endeavouring to separate from the other, and to pull closer in shore. She had the appearance of a row-boat, whilst her companion was larger, and was rigged like a trabaccolo, or schooner, under Venetian colours. We concluded that the greater part of the crew had abandoned her, and were endeavouring to get on shore in the row-boat.

The disparity of force was immense, and every circumstance was against us; but, although we were only in a frigate’s yawl (a very small boat comparatively), our gallant officer without hesitation resolved to board, and make a hand to hand affair of it. The odds were sadly against us. Who can conceive my pride and elation when I thus found myself participating in the glories of my profession, and reflected how short a time had elapsed since I had been either a prisoner in a dungeon, or a sort of Nebuchadnezzar wandering in the fields and forests. My good fortune was excessive, in being thus, as it were at a tangent, thrust into active service,—a ship’s cutlass, a black musket, were good substitutes for my chains and padlock; and I acted a marine’s part on this occasion.

We fired several shots to bring the enemy to, which the trabaccolo returned with compound interest, by letting fly at us from a four or six pounder. Our gallant little band gave way, i.e. pulled towards the enemy. We could not perceive many men on her deck, but those that were there kept up a smart fire. At length we got alongside, in the right English style, when upwards of twenty men suddenly showed themselves, with an officer at their head, decorated with the Legion of Honour, at whom I discharged my musket, which I believe took fatal effect. But at the moment I received a musketoon ball in my right arm, that disabled it. They poured into us a volley from muskets, musketoons, blunderbusses, etc. Our bowman and another sailor fell dead; three other seamen dropt from their wounds, and Green Dick, the pilot, one of them, died the next day. Jones was also severely wounded. Our little party was thus sadly thinned. The other vessel, seeing how few were our numbers, and how much they had been decreased, made towards the trabaccolo with twenty-two men. We had no alternative, but were under the necessity of sheering off, and it was only to their dastardly conduct that we remained indebted for not being again made prisoners. The frigate was not then in sight, and the confused state of our little crew, two killed and five wounded, including our brave and gallant officer, would have rendered us no difficult conquest to so superior a force, had they but persevered in the attack. Our retreat was covered by the musket of only one marine, whose name was Hunt; I supplied him with cartridges as fast as he could load and fire, biting them off and giving them with my left hand to him. My friend, Barklimore, was of essential service to us, in binding up our wounds with handkerchiefs, etc., for there were not a sufficient number of tourniquets. My worthy comrade, Hewson, also greatly distinguished himself as one of the boarders, and afterwards by tugging at the oar to facilitate our escape.

Lieutenant Jones never made the slightest complaint, nor did he let any one know that he was wounded, until we were well clear of the enemy, although it proved to be a most painful and dangerous wound which he had received; he had also several musket-balls through the crown of his hat. My wound, through the right arm, as I have observed, disabled it so that I never fully recovered the strength of it.[34]

At about half-past twelve, or noon, we got alongside my good old ship, towed by her launch, which they sent out on noticing from the mast-head our disabled state. We were hoisted on board in a chair, with the utmost care, the captain and officers evincing much anxiety towards us, and vieing with each other in offices of kindness. The other two worthy lieutenants of the Amphion, Messrs. Bennet and Phillott, had been on board of her in my time, and thus was I at home amongst old friends and shipmates. I had not been heard of for many years, and all that my brother-officers knew of me was, that I was a prisoner in a French gaol; judge, therefore, what was their astonishment, when in hoisting in the wounded they found a stranger, and recognised that stranger to be me. It seemed to them that I must have dropt from the clouds, for they could form no conjecture how I came amongst them.

Captain Hoste, though unknown to me, behaved like a parent, and his very great humanity will never be erased from my grateful recollection; although he confessed upon my first appearance, he was prejudiced against me, for he had imagined that I had been the chief of the vessel Mr. Jones had attacked, and who had done all the mischief to this officer and his crew. His clerk gave me up his cabin. Mr. Moffat, the surgeon, and his assistant, Mr. Angus, treated us with the greatest care and tenderness. The ball, it appeared, having divided the muscles, had completely laid bare the artery of my arm, grazing without lacerating it, but so much so, that both of the surgeons, in the first instance, were of opinion that amputation was unavoidable. My habits for a long time had been so abstemious that my system was free from any inflammatory tendency; and to this, I suppose, I may owe my recovering without suffering the loss of my limb. The whole of the officers were zealous in affording us every solace and succour that could be expected by people in our miserable condition, from their generous countrymen.

Sixteen days elapsed, through most of which I had been confined to my cot. My arm was getting better rapidly, and glad was I to be informed that Jones was as quickly recovering of his wound. I embraced an opportunity given me during this period of sixteen days, by a merchant from Trieste coming on board, to have a letter sent, agreeably to promise, to the commandant at Lindau, dated “on board H. M. frigate, Amphion, now blockading the port of Trieste,” assuring him how happy I should be, if ever any opportunity presented itself, of my having it in my power to convince him that I entertained no vindictive feeling for the unnecessary severity that I had received at his hand.

H.M. brig Spider, commanded by Lieutenant Sandford Oliver, now joined us from Malta, with orders. She was to return at once, and as I felt full of anxiety to join the commander-in-chief, off Toulon, or proceed to England, I got from the surgeon an assurance that there could be no danger in my being removed. Captain Hoste kindly yielded to my solicitations to be allowed to take a passage in the Spider, though he added, in the most friendly manner, that if I preferred it, I might remain with him, until he went down to Malta with a convoy which he shortly expected. Hewson and I expressed our fear of missing our promotion, having lost so many years in consequence of our captivity: he approved of our wishes, and gave us a letter of introduction and recommendation to Sir Alexander Ball, who was port-admiral and governor of Malta. We took a cordial leave of all our worthy friends in the Amphion, were conveyed to the Spider, and in a short time got under weigh, standing down the gulf.

Off Corfu I had the satisfaction of seeing the French flag struck, for the first time after a number of years: the Spider took a bombard (a vessel with a kind of cutter-rig), laden with wool and gregos (greatcoats). On the 8th of December we arrived at Malta, and in consequence of this capture were put into quarantine.

In the meantime, H.M. ship Woolwich was about to sail to England with a convoy. Admiral Ball had ordered Barklimore a passage in her; but she unfortunately got out to sea before we could procure him a conveyance. However, he was put on board a transport belonging to the convoy, and arrived safe in England. H.M. ship Proserpine was the next day to proceed off Toulon, to Lord Collingwood; and had we not been in quarantine, it was the intention of Sir Alexander Ball to have sent us on board. The Proserpine was taken by the French; therefore we had to felicitate ourselves on our fifth escape from a French prison. We were ten days before we got out of quarantine; and on the same day the Amphion arrived. H.M. ship Leonidas was on the point of sailing to the fleet;[35] Sir Alexander Ball ordered us a passage, and everything was arranged for joining the commander-in-chief off Toulon with all possible expedition.

Prior to our going on board the Leonidas, we went off to take leave of our good friends on board the Amphion. Imagine what were our astonishment and joy when the first person we saw on arriving on her deck was the companion of our flight, our brother-sufferer Batley, whom, from his lameness and ill-health, we had been obliged to leave at the public-house in Baden. Happily for him, he was picked up off Trieste, and only a few days after we had sailed in the Spider. When our mutual congratulations were over, he briefly related to us the following particulars of his adventures and fate:—

“The people with whom you had left me in the small village behaved with great attention, as did likewise the old shoemaker. As soon as I was perfectly recovered, I quitted them and directed my course towards Austria; but on the second or third day I was arrested near Elsingen, in Wirtemberg, and thrown into prison, where I remained five weeks. They had written to inform the French Government that they had me in custody; however, before an escort (which they expected) arrived from France, to conduct me back, I fortunately effected my escape by breaking out of my gaol.”

I need not observe what sincere pleasure we felt at this recital of his success, or how extreme was our joy at thus falling in with our so long lost companion.

We were the first party that had succeeded in escaping from the dreadfully strong and well-guarded fortress of Bitche. All our friends of the Amphion were excessively delighted to see us, and Captain Hoste did everything in his power to forward our wishes.

We took an affectionate leave of them, and embarked on board the Leonidas. The wind, though not fair, was not a barrier to our departure, for she sailed like a witch; and in four days we arrived at Minorca. There we changed ships, and embarked on H.M. sloop Kingfisher, for a passage to Gibraltar, to which place it was calculated that Lord Collingwood had repaired, in his flag-ship the Ocean, having parted from the body of his fleet in a severe easterly gale.

We proceeded in the Kingfisher as low as Malaga, where we fell in with the Weazle brig, Captain Prescott, who informed us that, owing to a change of wind, Lord Collingwood had put his helm up for Malta, where he intended to repair the damages which he had sustained in the gale. We therefore returned to Minorca, received fresh despatches, and in five days arrived at Malta, and joined Lord Collingwood in the Ocean. We had, in a few days, the unspeakable satisfaction of seeing five more of our fellow-sufferers, all of whom had succeeded in escaping from Bitche, in consequence of the letter I had written from Trieste, pointing out the course we had taken. Among these were my brothers in adversity, Tuthill and Brine. Ashworth had escaped, but had not yet arrived.[36] The French considered Bitche their stronghold for English prisoners, and greatly must they have been annoyed and mortified at so many having triumphed over their force, ingenuity, and vigilance.[37]

Lord Collingwood received us very kindly, and asked us several questions as to our proceedings and designs. He set us to do duty as midshipmen on board the Ocean, and left Malta for Palermo. We then fell in with the fleet off Minorca, and accompanied it to Toulon, which port we blockaded until the 28th of March, 1809. I frequently had the honour of dining with his lordship, who had the kindness to have me seated near him, and to assist me in carving, as my arm was so weak, and still in a sling. His lordship laughed heartily at my informing him that I had written to the commandant at Lindau agreeably to my promise.

At this time I was overwhelmed with melancholy, and even the joy of my escape seemed to desert me. I had lost five years of my life at its most valuable period, in French prisons, and the thought of bringing up so long an arrear of time in the service was most disheartening. Had I not been captured I should, ere this, if I had lived, have been at least a lieutenant, if not a commander—trusting to opportunities to distinguish myself for further promotion. Now, at my age, I was only a midshipman.

These gloomy thoughts, however, were soon relieved, for Lord Collingwood appointed me the next day, the 29th, to a lieutenancy in a court-martial vacancy in the Warrior, Captain J. W. Spranger.