The True Story Book Part 14

It had been arranged by his friends that for the s.p.a.ce of one year horses should be ready for him at a certain place, on the first and fifteenth of every month. Inspired by this thought, he turned to his burrowing with renewed vigour, and worked away at every moment when he thought he could do so unseen. One day, however, when he had reached some distance, he dislodged a large stone which blocked up the opening towards his cell. His terror was frightful. Not only was the air suffocating and the darkness dreadful, but he knew that if any of the guards were unexpectedly to come into his cell, the opening must be discovered, and all his toil again lost. For eight hours he stayed in the tunnel paralysed by fear. Then he roused himself, and by dint of superhuman struggles managed to open a pa.s.sage on one side of the stone, and to reach his cell, which for once appeared to him as a haven of rest.

Soon after this the war ended with the Peace of Paris (1763), and Trenck's hopes of release seemed likely to be realised. He procured money from his friends, and bribed the Austrian Amba.s.sador in Berlin to open negotiations on his behalf, and while these were impending he rested from his labours for three whole months. Suddenly he was possessed by an idea which was little less than madness. He bribed a major to ask for a visit from Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, again governor of Magdeburg, offering to disclose his pa.s.sage, and to reveal all his plans of escape, on condition that the Duke would promise to plead for him with the King. This message never reached the Duke himself, but some officers arrived ostensibly sent by him, but in reality tools of the major's. They listened to all he had to say, and saw all he had to show, then broke their word, filled up the pa.s.sage, and redoubled the chains and the watch.

Notwithstanding this terrible blow, Trenck's trials were drawing to an end. Whether Frederic's heart was softened by his brilliant victories, or whether Trenck's influential friends succeeded in making themselves heard, we do not know, but six months later he was set free, on condition that he never tried to revenge himself on any one, and that he never again should cross the frontiers of Saxony or Prussia.

_THE ADVENTURE OF JOHN RAWLINS_

IN the year 1621, one John Rawlins, native of Rochester, sailed from Plymouth in a s.h.i.+p called the 'Nicholas,' which had in its company another s.h.i.+p of Plymouth, and had a fair voyage till they came within sight of Gibraltar. Then the watch saw five sails that seemed to do all in their power to come up with the 'Nicholas,' which, on its part, suspecting them to be pirates, hoisted all the sail it could; but to no avail, for before the day was over, the Turkish s.h.i.+ps of war--for so they proved to be--not only overtook the Plymouth s.h.i.+ps, but made them both prisoners.

Then they sailed for Argier, which, when they reached, the English prisoners were sold as slaves, being hurried like dogs into the market, as men sell horses in England, and marched up and down to see who would give most for them. And though they had heavy hearts and sad countenances, yet many came to behold them, sometimes taking them by the hand, sometimes turning them round about, sometimes feeling their arms and muscles, and bargaining for them accordingly, till at last they were sold.

John Rawlins was the last who was sold, because his hand was lame, and he was bought by the very captain who took him, named Villa Rise, who, knowing Rawlins' skill as a pilot, bought him and his carpenter at a very low rate--paying for Rawlins seven pounds ten reckoned in English money. Then he sent them to work with other slaves: but the Turks, seeing that through Rawlins' lame hand he could not do so much as the rest, complained to their master, who told him that unless he could obtain a ransom of fifteen pounds, he should be banished inland, where he would never see Christendom again.

But while John Rawlins was terrified with this stern threat of Villa Rise, there was lying in the harbour another English s.h.i.+p that had been surprised by the pirates--the 'Exchange,' of Bristol. This s.h.i.+p was bought by an English Turk, who made captain of it another English Turk, and because they were both renegades, they concluded to have English and Dutch slaves to go in her. So it came about that, inquiring if any English slave were to be sold who could serve them as pilot, they heard of John Rawlins, and forthwith bought him of his master, Villa Rise.

By January 7 the s.h.i.+p left Argier, with, on board her, sixty-three Turks and Moors, nine English slaves, and a French slave, four Dutchmen, who were free, and four gunners, one English, and one Dutch renegade.

Now, the English slaves were employed for the most part under hatches, and had to labour hard, all of which John Rawlins took to heart, thinking it a terrible lot to be subject to such pain and danger only to enrich other men, and themselves to return as slaves. Therefore he broke out at last with such words as these:

'Oh, horrible slavery, to be thus subject to dogs! Oh, Heaven strengthen my heart and hand, and something shall be done to deliver us from these cruel Mahometan dogs!'

The other slaves, pitying what they thought his madness, bade him speak softly, lest they should all fare the worse for his rashness.

'Worse,' said Rawlins, 'what can be worse? I will either regain my liberty at one time or another, or perish in the attempt; but if you would agree to join with me in the undertaking, I doubt not but we should find some way of winning glory with our freedom.'

'Prithee be quiet,' they returned, 'and do not think of impossibilities, though, if indeed you could open some way of escape, so that we should not be condemned as madmen for trying as it were to pull the sun out of the heavens, then we would risk our lives; and you may be sure of silence.'

After this the slavery continued, and the Turks set their captives to work at all the meanest tasks, and even when they laboured hardest, flogged and reviled them, till more and more John Rawlins became resolved to recover his liberty and surprise the s.h.i.+p. So he provided ropes with broad spikes of iron, and all the iron crows, with which he could, with the help of the others, fasten up the scuttles, gratings, and cabins, and even shut up the captain himself with his companions; and so he intended to work the enterprise, that, at a certain watchword, the English being masters of the gunner-room and the powder, would either be ready to blow the Turks into the air, or kill them as they came out one by one, if by any chance they forced open the cabins.

Then, very cautiously, he told the four free Dutchmen of his plot, and last of all the Dutch renegades, who were also in the gunner-room; and all these consented readily to so daring an enterprise. So he fixed the time for the venture in the captain's morning watch.

But you must understand that where the English slaves were there always hung four or five iron crows, just under the gun carriages, and when the time came it was very dark, so that John Rawlins, in taking out his iron dropped it on the side of the gun, making such a noise that the soldiers, hearing it, waked the Turks and told them to come down. At this the boatswain of the Turks descended with a candle, and searched everywhere, making a great deal of stir, but finding neither hatchet nor hammer, nor anything else suspicious, only the iron which lay slipped down under the gun-carriages, he went quietly up again and told the captain what had happened, who thought that it was no remarkable thing to have an iron slip from its place. But through this John Rawlins was forced to wait for another opportunity.

When they had sailed further northward there happened another suspicious accident, for Rawlins had told his scheme to the renegade gunner, who promised secrecy by everything that could induce one to believe in him.

But immediately after he left Rawlins, and was absent about a quarter of an hour, when he returned and sat down again by him. Presently, as they were talking, in came a furious Turk, with his sword drawn, who threatened Rawlins as if he would certainly kill him. This made Rawlins suspect that the renegade gunner had betrayed him; and he stepped back and drew out his knife, also taking the gunner's out of its sheath; so that the Turk, seeing him with _two_ knives, threw down his sword, saying he was only jesting. But the gunner, seeing that Rawlins suspected him, whispered something in his ear, calling Heaven to witness that he had never breathed a word of the enterprise, and never would.

Nevertheless, Rawlins kept the knives in his sleeve all night, and was somewhat troubled, though afterwards the gunner proved faithful and zealous in the undertaking.

All this time Rawlins persuaded the captain, who himself had little knowledge of seamans.h.i.+p, to steer northward, meaning to draw him away from the neighbourhood of other Turkish vessels. On February 6 they descried a sail, and at once the Turks gave chase, and made her surrender. It proved to be a s.h.i.+p from near Dartmouth, laden with silk.

As it was stormy weather, the Turks did not put down their boat, but made the master of the conquered s.h.i.+p put down his, and come on board with five of his men and a boy, while ten of the Turks' men, among whom were one English and two Dutch renegades belonging to the conspiracy, went to man the prize instead.

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But when Rawlins saw this division of his friends, before they could set out for the other s.h.i.+p, he found means to tell them plainly that he would complete his enterprise either that night or the next, and that whatever came of it they must acquaint the four English left on the captured s.h.i.+p with his resolution, and steer for England while the Turks slept and suspected nothing. For, by G.o.d's grace, in his first watch he would show them a light, to let them know that the enterprise was begun, or about to be begun.

So the boat reached the s.h.i.+p from Dartmouth; and next Rawlins told the captain and his men whom the Turks had sent down among the other prisoners of his design, and found them willing to throw in their lot with him.

The next morning, being February 7, the prize from Dartmouth was not to be seen--the men indeed having followed Rawlins' counsel and steered for England. But the Turkish captain began to storm and swear, telling Rawlins to search the seas up and down for her--which he did all day without success. Then Rawlins, finding a good deal of water in the hold, persuaded the captain, by telling him that the s.h.i.+p was not rightly balanced, to have four of the guns brought aft, that the water might run to the pump. This being done, and the guns placed where the English could use them for their own purpose, the final arrangement was made.

The s.h.i.+p having three decks, those that belonged to the gunner-room were all to be there, and break up the lower deck. The English slaves, who belonged to the middle deck, were to do the same with that, and watch the scuttles. Rawlins himself prevailed with the gunner to give him as much powder as would prime the guns, and told them all there was no better watchword than, when the signal gun was heard, to cry:

'For G.o.d, and King James, and Saint George for England.'

Then, all being prepared, and every man resolute, knowing what he had to do, Rawlins advised the gunner to speak to the captain, that he might send the soldiers to the p.o.o.p, to bring the s.h.i.+p aft, and, weighing it down, send the water to the pumps. This the captain was very willing to do; and so, at two o'clock in the afternoon the signal was given, by the firing of the gun, whose report tore and broke down all the binnacle and compa.s.ses.

But when the Turks heard this, and the shouts of the conspirators, and saw that part of s.h.i.+p was torn away, and felt it shake under them, and knew that all threatened their destruction--no bear robbed of her whelps was ever so mad as they, for they not only called us dogs, and cried in their tongue, 'The fortune of war! the fortune of war!' but they tried to tear up the planking, setting to work hammers, hatchets, knives, the oars of the boat, the boat hook, and whatever else came to hand, besides the stones and bricks of the cook-room, still trying to break the hatches, and never ceasing their horrible cries and curses.

Then Rawlins, seeing them so violent, and understanding that the slaves had cleared the decks of all the Turks and Moors underneath, began to shoot at them through different scoutholes, with their own muskets, and so lessened their number. At this they cried for the pilot, and so Rawlins, with some to guard him, went to them, and understood by their kneeling that they cried for mercy and begged to come down. This they were bidden to do, but coming down one by one, they were taken and slain with their own curtleaxes. And the rest, perceiving this, some of them leapt into the water, still crying: 'The fortune of war!' and calling their foes English dogs, and some were slain with the curtleaxes, till the decks were well cleared, and the victory a.s.sured.

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At the first report of the gun, and the hurly-burly on deck, the captain was writing in his cabin, and he came out with his curtleaxe in hand, thinking by his authority to quell the mischief. But when he saw that the s.h.i.+p was surprised, he threw down his curtleaxe, and begged Rawlins to save his life, telling him how he had redeemed him from Villa Rise, and put him in command in the s.h.i.+p, besides treating him well through the voyage. This Rawlins confessed, and at last consented to be merciful, and brought the captain and five more renegades into England.

When all was done, and the s.h.i.+p cleared of the dead bodies, John Rawlins a.s.sembled his men, and with one consent gave the praise to G.o.d, using the accustomed services on s.h.i.+pboard. And for want of books they lifted up their voices to G.o.d, as He put it into their hearts or renewed their memories. Then did they sing a psalm, and last of all, embraced one another for playing the men in such a deliverance, whereby their fear was turned into joy. That same night they steered for England, and arrived at Plymouth on February 13, and were welcomed with all gladness.

As for the s.h.i.+p from Dartmouth, that had arrived in Penzance on February 11, for the English had made the Turks believe that they were sailing to Argier, till they came in sight of England. Then one of the Turks said plainly _that the land was not like Cape Vincent_; but the Englishmen told them to go down into the hold, and trim more to windward, and they should see and know more to-morrow. Thereupon five of them went down very orderly, while the English feigned themselves asleep; but presently they started up, and nailed down the hatches, and so overpowered the Turks. And this is the story of this enterprise, and the end of John Rawlins' voyage.

_THE CHEVALIER JOHNSTONE'S ESCAPE FROM CULLODEN_

THE Chevalier Johnstone (or _de_ Johnstone, as he preferred to call himself) was closely connected with the Highland army, hastily collected in 1745 for the purpose of restoring Charles Edward to his grandfather's throne. He was aide-de-camp to Lord George Murray, Generalissimo to the little force, and seems to have known enough of warfare to be capable of appreciating his commander's skill. He was also a captain in the regiment of the Duke of Perth, and later, when the petals of the White Rose were trampled under foot, he became an officer in the French service.

From his position, therefore, he was peculiarly fitted to tell the tale of those two eventful years, 1745 and 1746. Though only the son of a merchant, Johnstone was well connected, and, like many Scottish gentlemen of that day, had been bred in loyalty to the Jacobite cause.

He was one of the first to join the Prince when he had reached Perth, and it was from the Prince himself that he received his company, after the fight at Prestonpans. His life was all romance, but the part on which it is our present purpose to dwell is the account he has left in his memoirs of his escape from the field of Culloden, and the terrible sufferings he went through for some months, till he finally made his way safely to Holland.

'The battle of Culloden,' he says,[14] 'was lost rather by a series of mistakes on our part than by any skilful manoeuvre of the Duke of c.u.mberland,' and every Scot in arms knew too well the doom that awaited him at the 'Butcher's' hands. The half-starved Highlanders were no match for the well-fed English troops, and when the day was lost, and the rout became general, each man sought to conceal himself in the fastnesses of the nearest mountains, and, as long as he put himself well out of reach, was not particular as to the means he took to purchase safety.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Panics disclose strange and unexpected depths in men's minds, and Johnstone was in no respect superior to his fellows. 'Being no longer able to keep myself on my legs,' he relates,[15] 'and the enemy always advancing very slowly, but redoubling their fire, my mind was agitated and undecided whether I should throw away my life, or surrender a prisoner, which was a thousand times worse than death on the field of battle. All at once I perceived a horse, about thirty paces before me, without a rider. The idea of being yet able to escape gave me fresh strength and served as a spur to me. I ran and laid hold of the bridle, which was fast in the hand of a man lying on the ground, whom I supposed dead; but, what was my surprise when the cowardly poltroon, who was suffering from nothing but fear, dared to remain in the most horrible fire to dispute the horse with me, at twenty paces from the enemy. All my menaces could not induce him to quit the bridle. Whilst we were disputing, a discharge from a cannon loaded with grape-shot fell at our feet, without however producing any effect upon this singular individual, who obstinately persisted in retaining the horse.

Fortunately for me, Finlay Cameron, an officer in Lochiel's regiment, a youth of twenty years of age, six feet high, and very strong and vigorous, happened to pa.s.s near us. I called on him to a.s.sist me. "Ah Finlay," said I, "this fellow will not give me up the horse." Finlay flew to me like lightning, immediately presented his pistol to the head of this man, and threatened to blow out his brains if he hesitated a moment to let go the bridle. The fellow, who had the appearance of a servant, at length yielded and took to his heels. Having obtained the horse, I attempted to mount him several times, but all my efforts were ineffectual, as I was without strength and completely exhausted. I called again on poor Finlay, though he was already some paces from me, to a.s.sist me to mount. He returned, took me in his arms, with as much ease as if I had been a child, and threw me on the horse like a loaded sack, giving the horse at the same time a heavy blow to make him set off with me. Then wis.h.i.+ng that I might have the good fortune to make my escape, he bounded off like a roe, and was in a moment out of sight. We were hardly more than fifteen or twenty paces from the enemy when he quitted me. As soon as I found myself at the distance of thirty or forty paces, I endeavoured to set myself right on the horse, put my feet in the stirrups, and rode off as fast as the wretched animal could carry me.'

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There is something peculiarly funny in the simplicity of this account of horse-stealing with violence! Why a man should be more of a coward who clings to his own property and only means of safety, than the person who deliberately deprives him of both, is not easy to see. But Johnstone never doubts for one moment that what he does is always right, and what anyone else does is always wrong, and he goes on complacently to remark that he probably 'saved the life of the poltroon who held the horse, in rousing him out of his panic fear, for in less than two minutes the English army would have pa.s.sed over him.'[16]

The shelter which Johnstone made up his mind to seek was the castle of Rothiemurchus, the property of the Grant family, situated in the heart of the mountains, and on the banks of the 'rapid Spey.' But his troubles were not so easily over. The English army barred the way, and Johnstone was forced to take the road to Inverness. Again he was turned from his path by the dreaded sight of the British uniform, and, accompanied by a Highlander whom he had met by chance, he took refuge in a small cottage in Fort Augustus. In spite of his peculiar views about courage, Johnstone was a man who generally managed to do whatever he had set his heart on. He had resolved to go to Rothiemurchus, and to Rothiemurchus he would go. At last he arrived there, but found, to his great disappointment, that the laird, his old friend, was away from home. In his place was his eldest son, who was urgent that Johnstone should surrender himself a prisoner, as Lord Balmerino had just done, by his advice, and under his escort. Johnstone replied that he would keep his liberty as long as he could, and when it was no longer possible, he would meet his fate with resignation. We all know the end to which poor Balmerino came, but Johnstone was more fortunate.

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His brother-in-law, the son of Lord Rollo, had been made inspector of merchant s.h.i.+ps in the town of Banff, and Johnstone fondly hoped that by his help he might obtain a pa.s.sage to some foreign country. So he set off with three gentlemen of the name of Gordon, who had also been staying at Rothiemurchus, and rested the first night at the house of a shepherd near the mountain of Cairngorm. Here he saw for the first time the stones which bear this name, and though he is flying for his life, he dwells with the delight of a collector on the beauty of the colours, and even persuades his friends to put off their departure for a day, in order that he may search for some specimens himself. He contrived, he tells us,[17] to find several beautiful topazes, two of which he had cut as seals, and presented to the Duke of York, brother of Prince Charles Edward.

Four days after leaving Rothiemurchus Banff was reached, and the fugitives were sheltered by a Presbyterian minister, who was a secret adherent of the Stuarts. Johnstone at once took the precaution of exchanging his laced Highland dress for that of an old labourer, 'quite ragged, and exhaling a pestilential odour,' due apparently to its having been used for many years 'when he cleaned the stables of his master.' In this unpleasant disguise, he entered the town of Banff, then garrisoned with four hundred English soldiers, and went straight to the house of a former acquaintance, Mr. Duff. After gaining admittance from the servant with some difficulty, he found with dismay that his brother-in-law was away from home, and he could not therefore carry out his plan of embarking, with his permission, on board one of the merchant s.h.i.+ps.