The War for All the Oceans

by Roy Adkins

  It was with mixed emotions that he met up with his companions Ashworth and Tuthill, having imagined them safely in England by now, and to hear of the death of Lieutenant Essel, who ‘had been dashed to pieces in endeavouring to get over the walls [at Bitche], in a fresh attempt to escape’.12 The fortress, O’Brien noted, ‘is reckoned one of the strongest fortifications of France, and is built on the summit of an immensely high rock, out of which all its subterranean caves are hollowed’.13

  Many of the prisoners were kept in dungeons deep underground, and for months O’Brien plotted ways of escaping. In August 1808 there was a failed attempt in which he avoided being implicated, but, as he related,I had the mortification to see my poor companions heavily ironed and bound in chains. After being closely confined in their filthy and pestiferous den for many days, they were to be marched twenty-five leagues, in order to be put upon their fictitious trials . . . In a few days I received a letter from my friend Mr. Ashworth, giving me a melancholy narration of the trial; and he concluded by stating that himself, and several of our friends, were sentenced ‘as slaves to the galleys for fifteen years.’ Mr. Tuthill was sentenced to only nine.14

  O’Brien was so shocked that he dropped the letter and rushed to inform his fellow-prisoners what had happened: ‘The feelings of indignation it excited were extreme, and though under the absolute power of the enemy, we loudly exclaimed against the barbarity.’15 When one of his friends retrieved the letter, they discovered that the sentence had in fact been rescinded, but that two other seamen they knew had been sentenced to six years in the galleys for forging passports. This form of punishment - slave labour rowing French galleys in the Mediterranean or working in their dockyards - was abhorrent to O’Brien, who thought it ‘to the eternal disgrace of a nation that styled itself civilized’.16

  A month later he devised another escape plan with Midshipman Maurice Hewson, who a few months earlier had also escaped from Verdun and had been arrested far away in southern France. They were joined by Archibald Barklimore, a surgeon who had originally been captured by a French privateer off Ireland when returning from the West Indies and was sent to Bitche after an unsuccessful escape from Verdun. The final member of the group was Mr Batley, a dragoon officer who had been captured on the way to India and sent straight to Bitche, so that this was his first escape attempt. O’Brien had made a piece of linen cloth into a rope, which he had been wearing round his waist for many weeks and he had also manufactured a key. They set 13 September as their escape day, but on the evening before O’Brien’s anxiety increased when the prison governor stopped to chat about escape attempts:‘Well, Monsieur O’Brien... you must not think of escaping, for there is no chance whatever for an Englishman to get off from the Continent.’ I replied, ‘That is very true, Monsieur le Commandant, but if that had not been the case, Monsieur le Commandant, where is the possibility of getting out of this strong fortress, and so well guarded too?’ ‘True,’ said he, smiling; ‘but the attempt has been made more than once, and which certainly, I must say, invariably proved unsuccessful, and frequently fatal to some of the party.’ He continued by saying, ‘My opinion is, that if prisoners-of-war, I mean English, could manage to get out of confinement, their only course would be that towards Flushing or Rotterdam, where they are always pretty certain of finding English smugglers ready to embark them.’ I assured Monsieur le Commandant that his remarks were quite correct, and that if I thought there was the slightest chance of escaping from the fort, I would not hesitate to try and do so to-morrow, or as soon as possible.17

  O’Brien wondered if their plans were suspected: ‘I could not help thinking this conversation at so critical a moment very extraordinary. However, this opinion of his did not make us alter our intended course for Austria.’18 The weather was stormy the next night, and worst of all was the incessant lightning, which seemed set to reveal them. The guards remained vigilant all night, and so they postponed their plans, despite having cut up all their sheets to make additional ropes. Unlocking their cell door with the key before dusk the following evening, they crept past the guards and climbed down the first stage of the ramparts. Terrifyingly, the rope snapped, but a long enough piece survived for tackling the two lower ramparts - in all, a descent of around 200 feet. They climbed out of the deep ditch and ‘shook each other cordially by the hand, overwhelmed with exultation at our almost miraculous success. When we looked at the stupendous heights of the rock and fortress, it seemed as if a miracle alone could have enabled us to descend them, suspended by so slight and ill-made a cord as that which we had been able to construct out of our shirt-linen, and a little cobbler’s twine.’19 The soldier, Batley, was especially overjoyed, having considered himself a dead man from the moment he agreed to join the escape party, but fearing an accusation of cowardice if he withdrew. Keeping his own counsel, he merely commented: ‘You sailors are Devils.’20

  With no time to lose, they moved rapidly from Bitche to the border, and travelled across south Germany, but by the time they reached the neighbourhood of Radstadt Batley’s legs and feet were too swollen to continue. They pretended to be Frenchmen travelling on leave from their regiment which was then in Prussia, to give Batley a cover story so that he could be safely left to recover. The people he was lodged with looked after him until he was well, and despite not knowing the language, Batley eventually followed the same escape route.

  The others continued and in mid-October 1808, once inside the Austrian border, the three men pretended that they were Americans who had escaped from the Danes at Altona (Hamburg), but on discovering that the authorities were going to verify their story with the American consul, they took a risk and admitted being escaped English prisoners-of-war, because it was obvious that many Austrians were well disposed towards the British. They were advised that it would take about a fortnight to sort out matters, but they should make themselves as comfortable as possible at a local inn and maintain their American story. With nothing else to do, they made great efforts to learn German, and at the inn, ‘the landlady and waiters declared, that, until they had seen us, they had imagined that all Americans were negroes’.21 Hewson commented that ‘we endeavoured to chat to every one who had patience to bear with us. The great victories of Sir Arthur Wellesley [including Vimiero, in Portugal] were in every one’s mouth - his letters detailing the battles were in every paper, and caused general exultation . . . we grieved much that we were denied the privilege of acknowledging ourselves [as Englishmen].’22

  Still very nervous, they searched out places from which they could escape in an emergency, but on their eleventh day Hewson was summoned before the police director, who told them they were free to go. On 4 November they arrived at the port of Trieste: ‘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, L’Unité, Captain Campbell, who, they said, blockaded that port. This was the most welcome news imaginable.’23 The Russian ships were stuck in port, blockaded by the British, while the rest of their fleet at Lisbon had only just been escorted to Spithead by the British. For three days the escaped prisoners were also stuck in Trieste, because of strong winds, but they took the time to write to their friends Ashworth and Tuthill in Bitche - their use of the German language deceived the guards there, who did not bother checking the letters. They gave details of their route to Trieste, enabling the pair to escape in December.

  Hewson recorded that on their second night O’Brien ‘accompanied me to the heights outside the town to refresh ourselves in looking at the broad ocean, and feasting our eyes on the sight of a small British Frigate proudly standing in, daily reconnoitering a large Russian Squadron moored in the Mole, and capturing vessels hourly, in their view, even under their guns - ’twas truly flatte
ring that we belonged to a country and service that swayed so triumphantly - feared and admired by all Europe.’24 As soon as the weather moderated, O’Brien related, they hired a boat and under cover of darkness ‘rowed towards the point where I had calculated we should find the English frigate; but, to our mortification, we were disappointed’ .25 Once the moon had risen, O’Brien, Hewson and Barklimore rowed in all directions until at daybreak another boat was spotted:The boat ran alongside 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 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 this 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.26

  The frigate Amphion, commanded by Captain William Hoste, had only replaced the Unité the night before in blockade duties outside Trieste, and to O’Brien’s great joy an old friend, Lieutenant Jones, was in the boat. He began to amuse the crew with anecdotes of their escape when two strange vessels were spotted heading towards the coast. The chase was on, and a cutlass and musket were immediately thrust into O’Brien’s hands:We fired several muskets to bring the enemy to . . . 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 shewed themselves, with an officer at their head, decorated with the Legion of Honour, and 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, &c. 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 conflict was severe. 27

  The larger French vessel backed off, and the Amphion’s boat had no choice but to give up, with O’Brien thankful that he had not been taken prisoner again: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, for our retreat was covered by the musket of only one marine, whose name was Hunt, and whom I supplied 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, &c., for there were not a sufficient number of tourniquets . . . My wound, through the right arm . . . disabled it so that I never recovered the strength of it. 28

  They finally reached the safety of the frigate, where Captain Hoste addressed Hewson angrily in French, thinking him the captain of the enemy vessel, but once the officers on board realised the true story, Hewson considered that their reception ‘was at once the most generous and liberal, each officer vying with each other in supplying me and my companions with whatever we wanted in clothing and linen, and one of the officers was kind enough to give up his cabin to O’Brien’.29 His arm was saved, despite the surgeon’s initial worries, though O’Brien bitterly noted: ‘For this very serious wound, I have never received any pension, as it was not considered equivalent to the loss of a limb . . . and yet, what is the difference to a sufferer, between the loss of a limb, and the loss of all use of a limb?’30

  On 16 November 1808, just when O’Brien, Hewson and Barklimore were safely on board the Amphion, four midshipmen - Edward Boys, Robert Hunter, William Mansell and Frederick Whitehurst - were escaping from Valenciennes prison in north-east France. Mansell, ‘a delicate and high spirited youth of about eighteen years of age’,31 was one of the young protégés of Captain John Wright who had been taken prisoner when the Vincejo brig was captured in 1804. Boys and Whitehurst had been captured off Toulon the year before and were forced to march all the way to Verdun prison, where midshipmen were initially held. They arrived at Verdun early in 1804 and remained there until the summer of 1808, when, as Boys explained, ‘three midshipmen (I blush to state it) were taken in the very act of violating parole . . . the result was an order for the whole class [of midshipmen] to be removed. Accordingly, on the 7th of August, on going to the afternoon “appel,” [roll-call] we were arrested, to the number of 142, and sent to the citadel.’32 Although the midshipmen were somewhat concerned, Boys reckoned that the townspeople were more worried, because they were owed so much money. Early the next morning, ‘the drum summoned us to muster. All those who were to depart were drawn up in two ranks; one of seventy-three, destined for Valenciennes and Givet, the other of sixty-nine (most of whom were masters of merchant vessels), destined for Sarre Louis and other depôts, to the eastward. The northern expedition being ready, we were placed two by two, upon bundles of straw, in five waggons, and set out, escorted by the greater part of the horse gendarmerie of the district, aided by infantry.’33

  Boys was desperate to escape: ‘Parole had, hitherto, tended, in some measure, to reconcile me to captivity, but being now deprived of that honourable confidence, and feeling my pride wounded, at the oppressive act of punishing the innocent for the guilty, no obstacle could avert my intention of finally executing, what I now felt a duty.’34 Every opportunity to escape was thwarted by the vigilance of the guards, and once the Givet contingent had departed, a further obstacle of honour was placed in their path, as Boys explained:This day the guard being relieved, we were entrusted to the care of a ‘Marechal de logis,’ who, entertaining the most liberal opinions of the character of British officers, immediately placed us on parole, and took us to an inn, where we slept. In the morning he selected eight, of whom I was one, and gave us permission to take the diligence [coach] to Valenciennes; adding—‘Gentlemen, I rely upon your honour.’ Now, severity would have been more acceptable than this act of politic kindness; but to have declined the offer, would have exposed my intentions.35

  During the journey in the diligence to Valenciennes, Boys related that theymet four English seamen without scarcely a rag to cover them, strongly guarded, chained to each other by the neck, and handcuffed. They told us, that having escaped from Arras, they had gained the coast, seized a vessel, and put to sea. After beating about for several days in a gale of wind, and splitting all the sails, they were blown back, wrecked on the coast, and, on being retaken, were shamefully treated by the gendarmes. We made a subscription for them, and the poor fellows, with hearts of oak, not to be subdued, gave us three cheers, adding—‘Never mind, gentlemen, we’ll catch ’em again off Trafalgar, some of these days.’36

  Arriving at Valenciennes, Boys immediately began to plot his escape, though ‘from the citadel, escape appeared impossible, it being surrounded with ditches containing about six feet of mud, on the surface of which was not more than a foot of water; so that swimming was deemed impracticable’ .37 The many men held at Valenciennes experienced desperate boredom, as Boys described:The ingenuity of fourteen hundred men were put to the test, to furnish amusement for the most wearisome hours that can be imagined, and in utter ignorance of their termination, or what was passing in the busy world of strife. The greater part, by lifeless ennui, were reduced to such a state of apathy, that they were worn down into mere brute existence; whilst those who had still any energy left, magnified the most trifling occurrence into an important event. On the 21st of October, being the [third] anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar, almost every window in the citadel was illuminated, and several transparencies were exhibited in honour of that glorious victory. The repeated and almost incessant cheering of the prisoners continued for nearly two hours; many of the inhabita
nts of the town obtained leave to visit the citadel, and appeared to join in the sport with all their characteristic frivolity.38

  Soon after, a guard mistook the sparring of two seamen as a quarrel and brutally attacked them, leading to the intervention of the gendarmes. Midshipmen Whitehurst and Boys pushed in, trying to stop the bloodshed, but were arrested. During their confinement they agreed an escape plan and next persuaded Robert Hunter and William Mansell to join them. The preparations were hurried, their plan being ‘to scale a wall, to ascend the parapet unseen, to escape the observation of three or four sentinels and the patroles, to descend two ramparts, of about forty-five feet each, to force two large locks; and to get over two drawbridges’.39

  The night of 16 November they made their escape, but at dawn an escape was suspected when their rope was spotted, and Boys was later told that ‘the roll to muster was instantly beaten, and the alarm given to the neighbouring peasantry by the firing of guns. The midshipmen, on whom suspicion first fell, were hurried into ranks, half-dressed, and when the names of the absentees were called over, some one tauntingly replied, “Parti pour l’Angleterre” [left for England]—This tone of triumph considerably exasperated the gendarmes, and inflamed the zeal of the pursuers.’40 An order was immediately given to take the prisoners dead or alive.

  Over the following days Boys, Whitehurst, Hunter and Mansell trudged across fields and along lonely roads, travelling largely by night and sleeping in woods in the daytime. Thoroughly soaked with the constant rain, they ‘were overtaken by two horse gendarmes; but it being exceedingly dark, they took us for conscripts, part of their own escort, for one of them, in a muffled tone, as if fearful of exposing his nose, said, “Make haste, you will be too late for your lodging tickets;” reply was made that we were fatigued; soon afterwards, the rain increasing, they trotted on, repeating, “Make haste, make haste.”’41 A large party of conscripts was on the move to Ghent, and so the four escaped prisoners were able to deceive the landlord of a public house and obtain lodgings for their first night in the dry. Two more days were spent outside in the cold and wet, until they reached the outskirts of Bruges in Flanders. Boys described what happened next:At this time we were all in a most deplorable condition—wet to the skin, our feet bleeding, and so swollen, that we could scarcely walk at the rate of three miles an hour. Near the gates we observed a public-house, and, having hitherto found such places to afford relief and safety at this hour of the night, we entered, and saw nobody but an old woman and a servant. At first they appeared somewhat surprised, but asked no questions except such as regarded our wants, frequently exclaiming, ‘pauvres conscripts.’ We dried our clothes, when the sudden transition from cold to heat split Hunter’s feet; several of his nails also were loose, and Whitehurst had actually walked off two . . . Having, however, enjoyed a comfortable supper, we laid ourselves down as before, keeping watch in turn, until four A.M., when we paid the old woman, and departed.42