Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

‘It’s more than likely, lad, that your regiment is not coming; but our general is not to be balked for that. Go he will; and let the Government look to themselves if he is not supported. At all events you had better see General Humbert at once; there’s no saying what that despatch may contain. Santerre, conduct him upstairs.’

A smart young fellow arose at the bidding, and beckoned me to follow him.

It was not without difficulty that we forced our way upstairs, down which porters, and sailors, and soldiers were now carrying a number of heavy trunks and packing-cases. At last we gained an anteroom, where confusion seemed at its highest, crowded as it was by soldiers, the greater number of them intoxicated, and all in a state of riotous and insolent insubordination. Amongst these were a number of the townspeople, eager to prefer complaints for outrage and robbery, but whose subdued voices were drowned amid the clamour of their oppressors. Meanwhile, clerks were writing away receipts for stolen and pillaged articles, and which, signed with the name of the general, were grasped at with eager avidity. Even personal injuries were requited in the same cheap fashion, orders on the national treasury being freely issued for damaged noses and smashed heads, and gratefully received by the confiding populace.

‘If the wind draws a little more to the southward before morning, we’ll pay our debts with the topsail sheet, and it will be somewhat shorter, and to the full as honest,’ said a man in a naval uniform.

‘Where’s the officer of the “Regiment des Guides?”’ cried a soldier from the door at the farther end of the room; and before I had time to think over the designation of rank given me, I was hurried into the general’s presence.

General Humbert, whose age might have been thirty-eight or forty, was a tall, well-built, but somewhat over-corpulent man; his features frank and manly, but with a dash of coarseness in their expression, particularly about the mouth; a sabre-cut, which had divided the upper lip, and whose cicatrix was then seen through his moustache, heightening the effect of his sinister look; his carriage was singularly erect and soldierlike, but all his gestures betrayed the habits of one who had risen from the ranks, and was not unwilling to revive the recollection.

He was parading the room from end to end when I entered, stopping occasionally to look out from an open window upon the bay, where by the clear moonlight might be seen the ships of the fleet at anchor. Two officers of his staff were writing busily at a table, whence the materials of a supper had not yet been removed. They did not look up as I came forward, nor did he notice me in any way for several minutes. Suddenly he turned towards me, and snatching the letter I held in my hand, proceeded to read it. A burst of coarse laughter broke from him as he perused the lines; and then throwing down the paper on the table, he cried out —

‘So much for Kilmaine’s contingent. I asked for a company of engineers and a squadron of “Guides,” and they send me a boy from the cavalry-school of Saumur. I tell them that I want some fellows conversant with the language and the people, able to treat with the peasantry, and acquainted with their habits, and here I have got a raw youth whose highest acquirement in all likelihood is to daub a map with water-colours, or take fortifications with a pair of compasses! I wish I had some of these learned gentlemen in the trenches for a few hours. Parbleu! I think I could teach them something they don’t learn from Citizen Carnot. – Well, sir,’ said he, turning abruptly towards me, ‘how many squadrons of the “Guides” are completed?’

‘I cannot tell, general,’ was my timid answer.

‘Where are they stationed?’

‘Of that also I am ignorant, sir.’

‘Peste!’ cried he, stamping his foot passionately; then suddenly checking his anger, he asked, ‘How many are coming to join this expedition? Is there a regiment, a division, a troop? Can you tell me with certainty that a sergeant’s guard is on the way hither?’

‘I cannot, sir; I know nothing whatever about the regiment in question.’

‘You have never seen it?’ cried he vehemently.

‘Never, sir.’

‘This exceeds all belief,’ exclaimed he, with a crash of his closed fist upon the table. ‘Three weeks letter-writing! Estafettes, orderlies, and special couriers to no end! And here we have an unfledged cur from a cavalry institute, when I asked for a strong reinforcement. Then what brought you here, boy?’

‘To join your expedition, general.’

‘Have they told you it was a holiday-party that we had planned? Did they say it was a junketing we were bent upon?’

‘If they had, sir, I would not have come.’

‘The greater fool you, then, that’s all,’ cried he, laughing; ‘when I was your age I’d not have hesitated twice between a merry-making and a bayonet charge.’

While he was thus speaking, he never ceased to sign his name to every paper placed before him by one or other of the secretaries.

‘No, parbleu! he went on, ‘La maîtresse before the mitraille any day for me. But what’s all this, Girard? Here I’m issuing orders upon the national treasury for hundreds of thousands without let or compunction.’

The aide-de-camp whispered a word or two in a low tone.

‘I know it, lad; I know it well,’ said the general, laughing heartily; ‘I only pray that all our requisitions may be as easily obtained in future. – Well, Monsieur le Guide, what are we to do with you?’

‘Not refuse me, I hope, general,’ said I diffidently.

‘Not refuse you, certainly; but in what capacity to take you, lad, that’s the question. If you had served – if you had even walked a campaign – ’

‘So I have, general – this will show you where I have been’; and I handed him the livret which every soldier carries of his conduct and career.

He took the book, and casting his eyes hastily over it, exclaimed —

‘Why, what’s this, lad? You’ve been at Kehl, at Emmendingen, at Rorschach, at Huningen, through all that Black Forest affair with Moreau! You have seen smoke, then. Ay! I see honourable mention of you besides, for readiness in the field and zeal during action. What! more brandy, Girard. Why, our Irish friends must have been exceedingly thirsty. I’ve given them credit for something like ten thousand “velts” already! No matter, the poor fellows may have to put up with short rations for all this yet – and there goes my signature once more. What does that blue light mean, Girard?’ said he, pointing to a bright blue star that shone from a mast of one of the ships of war.

‘That is the signal, general, that the embarkation of the artillery is complete.’

‘Parbleu!’ said he with a laugh, ‘it need not have taken long; they’ve given in two batteries of eights, and one of them has not a gun fit for service. There goes a rocket, now. Isn’t that a signal to heave short on the anchors? Yes, to be sure. And now it is answered by the other! Ha! lads, this does look like business at last!’

The door opened as he spoke, and a naval officer entered.

‘The wind is drawing round to the south, general; we can weigh with the ebb if you wish it.’

‘Wish it! – if I wish it! Yes, with my whole heart and soul I do! I am just as sick of La Rochelle as is La Rochelle of me. The salute that announces our departure will be a feu de joie to both of us! Ay, sir, tell your captain that I need no further notice than that he is ready. Girard, see to it that the marauders are sent on board in irons. The fellows must learn at once that discipline begins when we trip our anchors. As for you,’ said he, turning to me, ‘you shall act upon my staff with provisional rank as sous-lieutenant: time will show if the grade should be confirmed. And now hasten down to the quay, and put yourself under Colonel Serasin’s orders.’

Colonel Serasin, the second in command, was, in many respects, the very opposite of Humbert Sharp, petulant, and irascible, he seemed quite to overlook the fact, that, in an expedition which was little better than a foray, there must necessarily be a great relaxation of the rules of discipline, and many irregularities at least winked at, which, in stricter seasons, would call for punishment. The consequence was, that a large proportion of our force went on board under arrest, and many actually in irons. The Irish were, without a single exception, all drunk; and the English soldiers, who had procured their liberation from imprisonment on condition of joining the expedition, had made sufficiently free with the brandy-bottle, to forget their new alliance, and vent their hatred of France and Frenchmen in expressions whose only alleviation was, that they were nearly unintelligible.

Such a scene of uproar, discord, and insubordination never was seen. The relative conditions of guard and prisoner elicited national animosities that were scarcely even dormant, and many a bloody encounter took place between those whose instinct was too powerful to feel themselves anything but enemies. A cry, too, was raised, that it was meant to betray the whole expedition to the English, whose fleet, it was asserted, had been seen off Oleron that morning; and although there was not even the shadow of a foundation for the belief, it served to increase the alarm and confusion. Whether originating or not with the Irish, I cannot say, but certainly they took advantage of it to avoid embarking; and now began a schism which threatened to wreck the whole expedition, even in the harbour.

The Irish, as indifferent to the call of discipline as they were ignorant of French, refused to obey orders save from officers of their own country; and although Serasin ordered two companies to ‘load with ball and fire low,’ the similar note for preparation from the insurgents induced him to rescind the command and try a compromise.

In this crisis I was sent by Serasin to fetch what was called the ‘Committee,’ the three Irish deputies who accompanied the force. They had already gone aboard of the Dedalus, little foreseeing the difficulties that were to arise on shore.

Seated in a small cabin next the wardroom, I found these three gentlemen, whose names were Tone, Teel-ing, and Sullivan. Their attitudes were gloomy and despondent, and their looks anything but encouraging as I entered. A paper on which a few words had been scrawled, and signed with their three names underneath, lay before them, and on this their eyes were bent with a sad and deep meaning. I knew not then what it meant, but I afterwards learned that it was a compact formally entered into and drawn up, that if, by the chance of war, they should fall into the enemy’s hands, they would anticipate their fate by suicide, but leave to the English Government all the ignominy and disgrace of their death.

They seemed scarcely to notice me as I came forward, and even when I delivered my message they heard it with a half indifference.

‘What do you want us to do, sir?’ said Teeling, the eldest of the party. ‘We hold no command in the service. It was against our advice and counsel that you accepted these volunteers at all We have no influence over them.’

‘Not the slightest,’ broke in Tone. ‘These fellows are bad soldiers and worse Irishmen. The expedition will do better without them.’

‘And they better without the expedition,’ muttered Sullivan dryly.

‘But you will come, gentlemen, and speak to them,’ said I. ‘You can at least assure them that their suspicions are unfounded.’

‘Very true, sir,’ replied Sullivan, ‘we can do so, but with what success? No, no. If you can’t maintain discipline here on your own soil, you’ll make a bad hand of doing it when you have your foot on Irish ground.

And, after all, I for one am not surprised at the report gaining credence.’

‘How so, sir?’ asked I indignantly.

‘Simply that when a promise of fifteen thousand men dwindles down to a force of eight hundred; when a hundred thousand stand of arms come to be represented by a couple of thousand; when an expedition, pledged by a Government, has fallen down to a marauding party; when Hoche or Kléber – But never mind, I always swore that if you sent but a corporal’s guard that I ‘d go with them.’

A musket-shot here was heard, followed by a sharp volley and a cheer, and, in an agony of anxiety, I rushed to the deck. Although above half a mile from the shore, we could see the movement of troops hither and thither, and hear the loud words of command. Whatever the struggle, it was over in a moment, and now we saw the troops descending the steps to the boats. With an inconceivable speed the men fell into their places, and, urged on by the long sweeps, the heavy launches swept across the calm water of the bay.

If a cautious reserve prevented any open questioning as to the late affray, the second boat which came alongside revealed some of its terrible consequences. Seven wounded soldiers were assisted up the side by their comrades, and in total silence conveyed to their station between decks.

‘A bad augury this!’ muttered Sullivan, as his eye followed them. ‘They might as well have left that work for the English!’

A swift six-oar boat, with the tricolour flag floating from a flagstaff at her stern, now skimmed along towards us, and as she came nearer we could recognise the uniforms of the officers of Humbert’s staff, while the burly figure of the general himself was soon distinguishable in the midst of them.

As he stepped up the ladder, not a trace of displeasure could be seen on his broad bold features. Greeting the assembled officers with a smile, he asked how the wind was.

‘All fair, and freshening at every moment,’ was the answer.

‘May it continue!’ cried he fervently. ‘Welcome a hurricane, if it only waft us westward!’

The foresail filled out as he spoke, the heavy ship heaved over to the wind, and we began our voyage.

CHAPTER XVIII. ‘THE BAY OF BATHFRAN’

Our voyage was very uneventful, but not without anxiety, since, to avoid the English cruisers and the Channel fleet, we were obliged to hold a southerly course for several days, making a great circuit before we could venture to bear up for the place of our destination. The weather alternated between light winds and a dead calm, which usually came on every day at noon, and lasted till about sunset. As to me, there was an unceasing novelty in everything about a ship; her mechanism, her discipline, her progress, furnished abundant occupation for all my thoughts, and I never wearied of acquiring knowledge of a theme so deeply interesting. My intercourse with the naval officers, too, impressed me strongly in their favour in comparison with their comrades of the land service. In the former case, all was zeal, activity, and watchfulness. The lookout never slumbered at his post; and an unceasing anxiety to promote the success of the expedition manifested itself in all their words and actions. This, of course, was all to be expected in the discharge of the duties peculiarly their own; but I also looked for something which should denote preparation and forethought in the others; yet nothing of the kind was to be seen. The expedition was never discussed even as table-talk; and for anything that fell from the party in conversation, it would have been impossible to say if our destination were China or Ireland. Not a book nor a map, not a pamphlet nor a paper that bore upon the country whose destinies were about to be committed to us, ever appeared on the tables. A vague and listless doubt how long the voyage might last was the extent of interest any one condescended to exhibit; but as to what was to follow after – what new chapter of events should open when this first had closed, none vouchsafed to inquire.

Even to this hour I am puzzled whether to attribute this strange conduct to the careless levity of national character, or to a studied and well ‘got up’ affectation. In all probability both influences were at work; while a third, not less powerful, assisted them – this was the gross ignorance and shameless falsehood of some of the Irish leaders of the expedition, whose boastful and absurd histories ended by disgusting every one. Among the projects discussed at the time, I well remember one which was often gravely talked over, and the utter absurdity of which certainly struck none amongst us. This was no less than the intention of demanding the West India Islands from England as an indemnity for the past woes and bygone misgovernment of Ireland. If this seem barely credible now, I can only repeat my faithful assurance of the fact, and I believe that some of the memoirs of the time will confirm my assertion.

The French officers listened to these and similar speculations with utter indifference; probably to many of them the geographical question was a difficulty that stopped any further inquiry, while others felt no further interest than what a campaign promised. All the enthusiastic narratives, then, of high rewards and splendid trophies that awaited us, fell upon inattentive ears, and at last the word Ireland ceased to be heard amongst us. Play of various kinds occupied us when not engaged on duty. There was little discipline maintained on board, and none of that strictness which is the habitual rule of a ship-of-war. The lights were suffered to burn during the greater part of the night in the cabins; gambling went on usually till daybreak; and the quarter-deck, that most reverential of spots to every sailor-mind, was often covered by lounging groups, who smoked, chatted, or played at chess, in all the cool apathy of men indifferent to its claim for respect.

Now and then, the appearance of a strange sail afar off, or some dim object in the horizon, would create a momentary degree of excitement and anxiety; but when the ‘lookout’ from the mast-head had proclaimed her a ‘schooner from Brest,’ or a ‘Spanish fruit-vessel,’ the sense of danger passed away at once, and none ever reverted to the subject.

With General Humbert I usually passed the greater part of each forenoon – a distinction, I must confess, I owed to my skill as a chess-player, a game of which he was particularly fond, and in which I had attained no small proficiency. I was too young and too unpractised in the world to make my skill subordinate to my chiefs, and beat him at every game with as little compunction as though he were only my equal, till, at last, vexed at his want of success, and tired of a contest that offered no vicissitude of fortune, he would frequently cease playing to chat over the events of the time, and the chances of the expedition.

It was with no slight mixture of surprise and dismay that I now detected his utter despair of all success, and that he regarded the whole as a complete forlorn-hope. He had merely taken the command to involve the French Government in the cause, and so far compromise the national character that all retreat would be impossible. We shall be all cut to pieces or taken prisoners the day after we land,’ was his constant exclamation, ‘and then, but not till then, will they think seriously in France of a suitable expedition.’ There was no heroism, still less was there any affectation of recklessness in this avowal. By nature he was a rough, easy, good-tempered fellow, who liked his profession less for its rewards than for its changeful scenes and moving incidents – his one predominating feeling being that France should give rule to the whole world, and the principles of her Revolution he everywhere pre-eminent. To promote this consummation the loss of an army was of little moment. Let the cause but triumph in the end, and the cost was not worth fretting about.

Next to this sentiment was his hatred of England, and all that was English. Treachery, falsehood, pride, avarice, grasping covetousness, and unscrupulous aggression, were the characteristics by which he described the nation; and he made the little knowledge he had gleaned from newspapers and intercourse so subservient to this theory, that I was an easy convert to his opinion; so that, ere long, my compassion for the wrongs of Ireland was associated with the most profound hatred of her oppressors.

To be sure, I should have liked the notion that we ourselves were to have some more active share in the liberation of Irishmen than the mere act of heralding another and more successful expedition; but even in this thought there was romantic self-devotion, not unpleasing to the mind of a boy; but, strange enough, I was the only one who felt it.

The first sight of land to one on sea is always an event of uncommon interest; but how greatly increased is the feeling when that land is to be the scene of a perilous exploit – the cradle of his ambition, or perhaps his grave! All my speculations about the expedition – all my daydreams of success, or my anxious hours of dark forebodings – never brought the matter so palpably before me as the dim outline of a distant headland, which, I was told, was part of the Irish coast.

This was on the 17th of August, but on the following day we stood further out to sea again, and saw no more of it.

The three succeeding ones we continued to beat up slowly to the northward against a head wind and a heavy sea; but on the evening of the 21st the sun went down in mellow splendour, and a light air from the south springing up, the sailors pronounced a most favourable change of weather – a prophecy that a starry night and a calm sea soon confirmed.

The morning of the 22nd broke splendidly – a gentle breeze from the south-west slightly curled the blue waves, and filled the canvas of the three frigates, as in close order they sailed along under the tall cliffs of Ireland. We were about three miles from the shore, on which now every telescope and glass was eagerly directed. As the light and fleeting clouds of early morning passed away we could descry the outlines of the bold coast, indented with many a bay and creek, while rocky promontories and grassy slopes succeeded each other in endless variety of contrast. Towns, or even villages, we could see none – a few small wretched-looking hovels were dotted over the hills, and here and there a thin wreath of blue smoke bespoke habitation, but, save these signs, there was an air of loneliness and solitude which increased the solemn feelings of the scene.

All these objects of interest, however, soon gave way before another to the contemplation of which every eye was turned. This was a small fishing-boat, which, with a low mast and ragged piece of canvas, was seen standing boldly out for us: a red handkerchief was fastened to a stick in the stern, as if for a signal, and on our shortening sail, to admit of her overtaking us, the ensign was lowered as though in acknowledgment of our meaning.

The boat was soon alongside, and we now perceived that her crew consisted of a man and a boy, the former of whom, a powerfully built, loose fellow, of about five-and-forty, dressed in a light-blue frieze jacket and trousers, adroitly caught at the cast of rope thrown out to him, and having made fast his skiff, clambered up the ship’s side at once, gaily, as though he were an old friend coming to welcome us.

‘Is he a pilot?’ asked the officer of the watch, addressing one of the Irish officers.

‘No; he’s only a fisherman, but he knows the coast perfectly, and says there is deep water within twenty fathoms of the shore.’

An animated conversation in Irish now ensued between the peasant and Captain Madgett, during which a wondering and somewhat impatient group stood around, speedily increased by the presence of General Humbert himself and his staff.

‘He tells me, general,’ said Madgett, ‘that we are in the Bay of Killala, a good and safe anchorage, and, during the southerly winds, the best on all the coast.’

‘What news has he from the shore?’ asked Humbert sharply, as if the care of the ship was a very secondary consideration.

‘They have been expecting us with the greatest impatience, general; he says the most intense anxiety for our coming is abroad.’

‘What of the people themselves? Where are the national forces? Have they any headquarters near this? Eh, what says he? What is that? Why does he laugh?’ asked Humbert, in impatient rapidity, as he watched the changes in the peasant’s face.

‘He was laughing at the strange sound of a foreign language, so odd and singular to his ears,’ said Madgett; but for all his readiness, a slight flushing of the cheek showed that he was ill at ease.

‘Well, but what of the Irish forces? Where are they?’