Through Russian Snows (17 page)

"It would not be difficult for us, if we were to pass the word down, to
fall suddenly on our guards and overpower them," the mate said in one of
the pauses of their talk. "A few of us might be shot, but as soon as we
had knocked some of them over and got their arms, we should easily make
an end of the rest. The difficulty would be what to do afterwards."

"That is a difficulty there is no getting over," Julian said. "With the
exception of yourself, there is not one who speaks French well."

"I don't speak it well," the mate said. "I know enough to get on with,
but the first person that I addressed would see at once that I was a
foreigner. No; we should all be in the same boat, and a very bad boat it
would be. We should all be hunted down in the course of twenty-four
hours, and I expect would be shot twelve hours afterwards. I think that
instead of sending twenty men with us they might safely have sent only
two, for it would be simply madness to try to escape. If one alone could
manage to slip off there would be some chance for him. There is no doubt
that the Bretons are bitterly opposed to the present state of things,
and have not forgotten how they suffered in their rising early in the
days of the Republic. They would probably conceal a runaway, and might
pass him along through their woods to St. Malo or one of the other
seaports, and thence a passage across might be obtained in a smuggler,
but it would be a hazardous job."

"Too hazardous for me to care to undertake, even if I got the chance to
slip away," Julian said.

"You are right, mate; nothing short of a big reward would tempt any of
the smugglers to run the risk of carrying an escaped prisoner out of the
country; and as I have not a penny in my pocket, and nothing to draw on
at home—for there is only my pay due up to the date we were captured
when we were only eight days out—I should not have the slightest chance
of getting away. No; I shall take whatever comes. I expect we are in for
it to the end of the war, though when that will be is more than any man
can tell."

They were marched into the prison at Angers, where they were provided
with a much more bountiful meal than they had been accustomed to, a good
allowance of straw, and two blankets each. To their great satisfaction
they were not called at daybreak, and on questioning one of the warders
who brought in their breakfast, the first mate learnt that after the
march to Angers it was customary to allow a day's rest to the prisoners
going through. They were ready for the start on the following morning,
and stopped for that night at La Flèche. The next march was a long one
to Vendôme, and at this place they again halted for a day. Stopping for
a night at Beaugency, they marched to Orleans, where was a large prison.
Here they remained for a week. The guards who had accompanied them from
Nantes left them here at Orleans and returned by water.

From Orleans they struck more to the north, and after ten days' marching
arrived at Verdun, which was, they learned, their final destination.
Here there were fully a thousand English prisoners, for the most part
sailors. The greater portion of them were lodged in wooden huts erected
in a great courtyard surrounded by a high wall. The food was coarse, but
was much more abundant than it had been at Nantes. The newly arrived
party were quartered together in one of the huts.

Night and day sentries were posted on the wall, along which a wooden
platform, three feet from the top, permitted them to pass freely; on
this sentry-boxes were erected at short intervals. As soon as their
escort had left them, the newcomers were surrounded by sailors eager to
learn the last news from England—how the war was going on, and what
prospect there was of peace. As soon as their curiosity was satisfied,
the crowd speedily dispersed. Julian was struck with the air of listless
indifference that prevailed among the prisoners, but it was not long
before he quite understood it. Cut off from all news, without hope of
escape or exchange, it was difficult for even the most light-hearted to
retain their spirits.

As sailors, the men were somewhat better able to support the dull
hopelessness of their lives than others would have been. Most of them
were handy in some way or other, and as they were permitted by the
authorities to make anything they could, they passed much of their time
in working at something or other. Some cut out and rigged model ships,
others knitted, some made quilts from patches purchased for a trifle by
the warders for them in the town, some made fancy boxes of straw, others
carved walking-sticks, paper-cutters, and other trifles.

Each day, two or three of their number had permission to go down into
the town to sell their own and their comrades' manufactures, and to buy
materials. There was a fair sale for most of the articles, for these
were bought not only by the townspeople, but by pedlars, who carried
them through the country. The prices obtained were small, but they
afforded a profit over the money laid out in materials, sufficient to
purchase tobacco and other little luxuries—the introduction of spirits
into the prison being, however, strictly forbidden. Of more importance
than the money they earned, was the relief to the tedium of their life
in the work itself. Julian found a similar relief in studying French.
There were some among the prisoners who spoke the language far better
than did the mate, and after three months' work with the latter, Julian
was advised by him to obtain a better teacher. He found no difficulty in
getting one, who spoke French really well, to talk with him three or
four hours a day on condition of being supplied with tobacco during that
time; and as tobacco was very cheap, and could be always bought from the
soldiers, Julian's store of money was not much diminished by the outlay.

He himself had now regularly taken to smoking; not at first because he
liked it, but because he saw how much it cheered and comforted his
comrades, who, however, generally used it in the sailor fashion of
chewing. Escape was never talked of. The watch kept was extremely
strict, and as on getting outside of the walls of the courtyard, they
would but find themselves in a town girt in by walls and fortifications,
the risk was altogether too great to be encountered. It had been
attempted many times, but in the great majority of cases the fugitives
had been shot, and their bodies had always been brought back to the
prison in order to impress the others with the uselessness of the
attempt. A very few, indeed, had got away; at least, it was supposed
that they had done so, as their bodies had not been brought back; but it
was generally considered that the chances were enormously against their
being able to make their way over the wide extent of country between
Verdun and the sea, and then to succeed in obtaining a passage to some
neutral port, from which they could make their way to England. Several
times offers of freedom were made to such of the prisoners as
volunteered to enter the French army or navy, but very few availed
themselves of them.

At the end of ten months, Julian was able to speak French fluently.
Large bodies of troops were continually marching through the town bound
for the east, and the prisoners learned from the guards that the general
belief was that Napoleon intended to invade Russia.

"I have a good mind to enlist," Julian said one day, to his friend the
mate. "Of course, nothing would persuade me to do so if it were a
question of fighting against the English. But now that I have learnt
French fairly, I begin to find this life horrible, and am longing
intensely to be doing something. There are the reasons that I have
already told you of why, even if I were free, I could not go home. I
might as well be taking part in this campaign as staying in prison.
Besides, I should have infinitely better chances of escape as a soldier
than we have here, and if I find I don't like it, I can at least try to
get off."

"Well, placed as you are, Wyatt, I don't know that I should not be
inclined to do the same. At any rate, you would be seeing something of
life, instead of living like a caged monkey here. Of course, as you say,
no one would dream of such a thing if one would have to go to Spain to
fight our fellows there. Still, if by any chance, after this Russian
business, your regiment was ordered back to France, and then to Spain,
you would at any rate have a fair chance of escaping on such a journey.
I would not do it myself, because I have a wife at home. One hopes,
slight as the chance seems to be, that some day there will be a general
exchange of prisoners. But as you can't go home, I don't know but that
it would be a good plan for you to do what you propose. At any rate,
your life as a soldier would be a thousand times better than this dog's
existence."

"I could put up with that for myself, but it is awful seeing many of the
men walking about with their heads down, never speaking for hours, and
the pictures of hopeless melancholy. See how they die off, not from
hunger or fever, for we have enough to eat, but wasting away and dying
from home-sickness, and because they have nothing to live for. Why, of
the forty-five of us who came up together, ten have gone already; and
there are three or four others who won't last long. It is downright
heartbreaking; and now that I have no longer anything to keep my
thoughts employed a good part of the day, I begin to feel it myself. I
catch myself saying, what is the use of it all, it would be better make
a bolt and have done with it. I can quite understand the feelings of
that man who was shot last week. He ran straight out of the gate; he had
no thought of escape; he simply did it to be shot down by the sentries,
instead of cutting his own throat. I don't believe I could stand it
much longer, Jim; and even if I were certain of being killed by a
Russian ball I think I should go."

"Go then, lad," the man said. "I have always thought that you have borne
up very well; but I know it is even worse for you than it is for us
sailors. We are accustomed to be cooped up for six months at a time on
board a ship, without any news from outside; with nothing to do save to
see that the decks are washed, and the brasses polished, except when
there is a shift of wind or a gale. But to anyone like yourself, I can
understand that it must be terrible; and if you feel getting into that
state, I should say go by all means."

"I will give you a letter before I enlist, Jim; and I will get you, when
you are exchanged, to go down with it yourself to Weymouth, and tell
them what became of me, and why I went into the French army. Don't let
them think that I turned traitor. I would shoot myself rather than run
the risk of having to fight Englishmen. But when it is a choice between
fighting Russians and going out of my mind, I prefer shouldering a
French musket. I will write the letter to-day. There is no saying when
they may next call for volunteers; for, as you know, those who step
forward are taken away at once, so as to prevent their being persuaded
by the others into drawing back."

The next day Julian wrote his letter. He recapitulated the arguments he
had used to the mate, and bade Frank and his aunt a final farewell. "I
may, of course, get through the campaign," he said. "The French soldiers
here seem to think that they will sweep the Russians before them, but
that is their way. They talked of sweeping us out of the Peninsula, and
they haven't done it yet; and there is no doubt that the Russians are
good soldiers, and will make a big fight of it. I hope you won't feel
cut up about this, and really I care little whether I leave my bones in
Russia or not. It may be twenty years or even longer before that fellow
Markham's letter arrives to clear me. And until then I cannot return to
England, or at any rate to Weymouth; indeed, wherever I was, I should
live with the knowledge that I might at any moment be recognized and
arrested. Therefore while others here have some hope of a return home,
either by an exchange of prisoners or by the war coming to an end, I
have nothing to look forward to. So you see, old fellow, that it is as
well as it is.

"I have to earn my own living somehow, and this way will suit me better
than most. Only, of one thing be sure, that if at the end of the Russian
war I return alive, and my regiment is sent where there is a chance of
fighting our people, I shall take an opportunity of deserting. As I have
told you, I can speak French fairly well now, and after a few months in
a French regiment I shall be able to pass as a native, and should have a
good chance of making my way somehow through the country to the
frontier. My idea at present is that I should make for Genoa and ship
there as a sailor on board an Italian vessel, or, better still, if we
happen to be masters of the place, or our fleet near, should either
enlist in one of our regiments, or ship on board one of our men-of-war.
I should, of course, take another name, and merely say that I had been
captured by the French at sea, had been a prisoner at Verdun, and had
managed to get free, and make my way across the country. Probably in any
case I shall do this when the regiment returns from Russia. Two or three
years' absence, and a fair share of the hardships of a soldier's life,
and a disguise, might enable me without detection to travel down to
Weymouth and see Aunt, and learn if there had been any news from
Markham.

"Whether I shall find you there or not I can't tell. I have but little
hope that you will be able to get a commission. This affair of mine
will be, I fear, an absolute bar to that. But, wherever you may be, I
shall do my best to find you out, after I have seen Aunt. This will be
given you by a good fellow named Jim Thompson. He has been a first mate,
and has been a good friend to me ever since I have been over here. If he
is exchanged, he will bring it to you; if not, he will give it to one of
the men who is exchanged to post it on his arrival in England. I shall
direct it both to you and Aunt, so that if you are away from Weymouth
she will open it. God bless you both."