Читать книгу A First Fleet Family - Becke Louis - Страница 9

Table of Contents

I Meet With A Startling Adventure

The Portsmouth Division of Marines, to which I was attached, among its other duties was called upon to furnish a guard to assist the Portsmouth Preventive Service in guarding the long line of beach from Southsea Castle on the east to Gilkicker Point on the west, and from these points the chain of sentries was continued right along the coast by men furnished from the regiments stationed in this district. I was very glad I was not stationed at Gilkicker, for ’twas at this very place that Jack the Painter was hanged in chains for setting fire to Portsmouth Dockyard, and his remains still swung from the gibbet at the time of which I write.

The ground covered by the Marines — who were posted each one about a mile apart — covered a distance of more than ten miles or so, and what with this, and the many other guards required in a garrison town like Portsmouth, it fell to my lot very often to spend a solitary four hours on the lookout for smugglers — doing “sentry go” as they call it in the Service. It was on an occasion like this that an event befell me which changed the whole course of my life.

It was on a night in December, 1786, that I was stationed as a sentry on the beach. My sentry-box was fixed about five hundred yards east of Southsea Castle, and the dark outline of its walls, though such a distance away, seemed to tower directly over my head. In those days sentries were only relieved every four hours on this particular duty, and visits from the officer of the guard were infrequent and irregular. My post—that is to say, the space of ground which I was supposed to cover—extended over a walk of about two hundred and fifty yards on each side of my sentry-box.

It was a pouring wet night, and the wind blew in fierce, bitter-cold gusts, and when I marched out to relieve my comrade at ten o’clock until two o’clock next morning, I had it in my mind to pass those weary hours in the shelter of my sentry-box. The post was not an important one, and the Preventive Service was supposed to do all the watching for the smugglers, while the Marines were only provided as a chain of sentries to assist the revenue officers when called upon. At least, that was the way in which we used to look at it, and mighty vexed we were at being employed upon such work.

When the sergeant marched me up to the post and the sentry going off had duly ported arms at the sentry going on duty, and we had mumbled over the order for the night, I was unpleasantly reminded of my duty, for, said the sergeant, turning to me, “Look here, my fine fellow, see that you keep your eyes open to-night. We have heard that an attempt is likely to be made to run a cargo somewhere between here and Hayling Island. If you see a boat touch the beach, don’t be in a hurry to challenge. Just let them get the cargo out of her, and keep you quiet. Then don’t challenge, but fire, and call the attention of the guard.”

Our main guard was inside the gate at Southsea Castle, and I saw that if the smugglers did succeed in landing their cargo anywhere near my post, that, even if they got off themselves, the cargo would certainly be seized by the revenue officers. But then, I thought, it was scarcely likely that smugglers would choose a landing-place so near the Castle, where they knew our main guard was stationed. However, I made up my mind to keep wide awake, and resolutely paced my five hundred yards, often fancying I heard, through the steadily increasing howling of the wind and the stinging showers of rain, any number of boats rowing in towards the shore, but never finding these alarms anything more than imagination.

At midnight I was visited by the sergeant making his rounds, and reported all well. The two hours that had already gone by seemed to me more than a whole night, and, after the sergeant was out of sight and hearing, I stood up for rest and shelter in my box, and a moment or two later was straining my ears and thinking, “Surely that is the splash of oars.”

Yes, this time I was right. It was high water, and the waves now plashed up to within a few yards of my feet. Between the gusts of wind and rain, I could distinctly hear the sound of oars. I carefully re-primed my musket and decided to remain inside the box to keep the priming dry, and wait, as the sergeant had directed me, until, if this was the smuggling party, they should have had ample time to get the cargo out.

In a few moments I heard the boat ground on the beach, and fancied that I also heard voices in an undertone; then the boat shoved off again — I could hear that quite plainly. Presently, I heard the footsteps of one person on the shingle, and, before I had time to bring my musket to the present, a voice said, —

“Don’t sing out, William, I have a message for you.”

I knew the voice as that of a neighbour of ours at Solcombe, and so for a moment my suspicions were set at rest, but the next instant I remembered that the man was a well-known smuggler, who only by chance was not with the gang that was captured when Will Bryant and his comrades were trapped, and so I was on my guard again. “What do you want?” I asked.

“I bring you a message from Mary Broad and Will Bryant.”

“What of them, and how do you come by a message?” said I.

“Never mind how I came by the message, lad, but they send their love to you and bid you farewell, for ’tis likely you’ll never see them again.”

“What! are they to be hanged, then? Lieutenant Fairfax told me his father was trying to get them reprieved.” This was true, for Mr. Fairfax and the Parson and a number of the great people on the Isle of Wight had been doing all they could to save the poor creatures from death.

“Oh, they’re not going to be hanged, but they will be sent to Botany Bay, and so, my lad, they have sent their farewell to you.”

“Dear, dear me, this is dreadful. Why, that is worse than death. I’ve heard it said that it is more than likely that those who are sent there will be eaten by the cannibals if they are not starved to death. But,” and again I began to remember that he who spoke was a great rogue, “why do you come here at this time of night to tell me this? Don’t you know that I might have shot you, or turned out the guard, because, look you, I know you must be in company with the smugglers that we are expecting?”

The man laughed. “I know that,” said he, “and the boat I came in was the lugger’s, sure enough, but there will be no cargo landed to-night”

“Ah,” said I, with foolish vanity, “we are too clever for you, are we?”

“Yes, we knew you were all on the alert, and so, what with the bad weather and the danger from your fellows, the lugger has put to sea again. I wanted to come to Portsmouth, and so they landed me before they ran out.”

“What, after the narrow escape that they had when Will Bryant tried to run his cargo, are you still risking your neck in this business?”

“No, that’s just it. I ran over to the coast of France and back in the vessel, because I had promised to go this trip, but they have let me off now, and I wash my hands of the whole lot.”

“Well, I’m right glad to hear it, and I hope you’ll take to something honest now.”

“Yes, that I will, William, my lad; but I won’t join the Marines and have to spend four hours on a night like this on the beach.”

Presently I asked him how it was he knew where to find me.

“Oh,” says he, “one of the hands on the lugger — a spy of ours — said he had heard some of the Marines say in the ale-house that young Dew had the first post west of the Castle, and I thought I would get the boat to land me somewhere about here so that I could give you poor Mary’s message. Well, good-bye, William. But, here, I forgot. I’ve got something here to keep out the cold and wet. Take a pull;” and with this he handed me a flask of spirits.

I took a drink, and I have some remembrance of repeating the act more than once, but I recollect nothing else that passed that night, and what happened afterwards is best told in the words of the officer of the guard. This is from his report: —

* * * * * * * *

“At two o’clock on the morning of December the twenty-first, I went with Sergeant Brookes and two privates to inspect the guard and relieve Private Dew, at number one post, west side of Southsea Castle. The night was very dark, and half a gale of wind was blowing, with every now and then very fierce squalls of rain. We could not find the sentry, and the sentry-box had disappeared. There were many signs that a landing had been made and a cargo run on the beach at this post. Private Dew had been visited at midnight by the sergeant and all was then well. When daylight came it showed, as was suspected, that the smugglers were the cause of his disappearance. There were marks of men and horses about the place, and the shingle showed that more than one boat had been run up on the beach, and heavy weights, such as casks, had been rolled over it. For the rest of the night I doubled the guard and continued the search for Private Dew, but up to the present have found no traces of him.”

* * * * * * * *

This report was handed to the commanding officer early on the morning of the twenty-first. A few hours later a dragoon orderly galloped into barracks and handed to the colonel the following message: —

* * * * * * * *

“At daylight this morning the sentry at number eighteen post, near Gilkicker Point, saw an object which looked like a sentry-box, on a small sand shoal partially covered with water near the Mother Bank. The officer of the guard sent off a boat with a sergeant and two privates to inquire into the matter, and in a short time the boat returned and brought back Private Dew of the Marines and his sentry-box. The man was in a half-dazed condition and is either recovering from drink or from the effects of some drug. He is unable to give any coherent account of how he got on the Mother Bank. He is now a prisoner at the fort, under charge of the surgeon.”

* * * * * * * *

This was signed by the officer in charge of the guard at Blockhouse Fort.

Well, to make a long story short, the smuggler rogue had drugged me, and, until the surgeon brought me to myself at Blockhouse Fort, I was ignorant of all that had happened.

When I did come to, I was, in pursuance of the colonel’s orders, marched off under an escort to the Clink, as we soldiers called the military prison, and there I remained for two days suffering much shame in spirit, and an object of curiosity to the soldiers who were my fellow-prisoners and to the men who formed the prison guard. The fear of being flogged, and perhaps shot, for deserting my post, and the open gibes of my comrades, made those days live long in my memory, and the lesson they gave me, more than anything else, made strict attention to duty, utterly regardless of private friends, my very first consideration. And though no man ever escaped from such a neglect of duty as lightly as I did, the fright I had in those two days lasted me all my life in the Service.

After some days, the colonel in command of the Portsmouth Division of Marines sent for me, and I was escorted to Weevil Barracks to be, as I thought, tried by court-martial and flogged for deserting my post.

The colonel was seated at a table with three or four other officers, including the captain of my company, and, to my great joy and comfort, for I knew I had a friend in him, Lieutenant Fairfax.

I saluted and stood to attention, and the lieutenant smiled encouragingly at me.

“Now, my lad,” said the colonel, “don’t be frightened. There’s no need to let your hair stand up like priming wires. Tell us the whole truth about this affair, and I will do what I can for you. Your captain says you have the making of a good soldier in you, and you have a friend here in Lieutenant Fairfax. I don’t believe in flogging men who get into trouble through inexperience, and if you can but show me some reason for leaving your post and taking a cruise in your sentry-box and mounting a new guard at the Mother Bank, miles from your post, by George” (and I saw the old fellow and the rest of them trying hard to avoid laughing), “why, I’ll forgive you.”

Then, with a shame-faced air, I have no doubt, I told them about the smuggler and my former acquaintance with his sort, and asked Lieutenant Fairfax to confirm my story that far, which he did, adding that I was a mere inexperienced boy, that the scoundrels had taken advantage of me, and then, like the kind-hearted gentleman he ever was, he added that he had no doubt that this second lesson in the wickedness of the smugglers would last me all my life.

“That it will, gentlemen,” said I, my heart taking a great leap of courage at his good words, “for if ever I drop across the rascal again it will go hard with him.”

When they had questioned me fully as to the manner of my being drugged, the colonel turned to his fellow-officers.

“Well, gentlemen, it is plain that the lad was drugged by this man, and that, when the drug had taken effect upon his silly head, the smugglers ran their cargo, and then, curse their impudence, out of bravado carried away the sentry and his box in the lugger and left him on the Mother Bank on their way back to their haunts at the back of the Isle of Wight, or the coast of France.”

“No doubt, sir, that is what did take place,” said Lieutenant Fairfax; “and he had a narrow escape of being drowned, for the tide often covers the spot by several feet where they found him.”

“Now, my lad,” continued the colonel, “I will give you a chance. This affair has got about. All the garrison has heard of it, from the general downwards, and everyone is looking to see you get a flogging, and I’m not sure that you don’t deserve it for being such a fool. However, as I said, I’ll give you a chance. We want volunteers for the fleet now preparing to sail for Botany Bay. Lieutenant Fairfax is one of the officers of the Marine force going there, and he has asked me to let you volunteer as one of the Marine convict guard. I can’t get our men to come forward very readily, the frightened rascals, and volunteer for the Service.” (And then aside to my captain, “And I’m hanged if I don’t think they are right.”) “But some of you must go. Now, if you will volunteer cheerfully, I’ll contrive to hush up this piece of foolishness on your part. Come, what is it to be?”

Shame and grief at this ending to my ambition to become a soldier brought the tears to my eyes, and I hesitated for a moment and then thought of the greater shame of the cat and triangles, and I answered,—

“Thank you, sir, for giving me the chance. I am sure your honour won’t think the worse of me being disappointed at losing the chance to serve in foreign wars. I didn’t join the Service to become a gaoler.”

“Tut, tut, my lad, never mind, you’ll get your chance some day. Meanwhile, do your duty on this service, and don’t let these gaol birds make a fool of you as easily as the smugglers did. Release the prisoner, and Captain Weston, enter Dew’s name on the list of volunteers for the Sirius.”