EDUMUND’S STORY

Transcribed from Sir George L’Estrange’s Recollections.

‘I have since received a most interesting Memoir of the late Major Edmund L’Estrange, 71^st  Highland Light Infantry, written by his brother Lieut.Col. A.R. L’Estrange, late 71^st Highland Light Infantry, whose death was announced in the “Obituary” of the “St. James’s Magazine and the United Empire Review,” August, 1873:-

June 17^th  - At 17, Howard Place, Edinburgh, Lieut.Col Anthony Roger L’Estrange, retired full pay, her Majesty’s 71^st Highlanders, son of the late Captain Anthony L’Estrange, late of the 88^th Connaught Rangers, and younger brother of the late Major Edmund L’Estrange,  71^st Highlanders, who was killed at Waterloo.

Born in the early part of 1800, Col. L’Estrange entered the army in 1815, and was present at the battle of Waterloo, in the 71^st Regiment, in which regiment he served until 1856, when as Major, he retired on full-pay from the army. This officer was therefore the brother of one of the two prisoners who escaped from Verdun and Bitche, the story of which is now related.

The subject of this narrative obtained a commission in the 71^st Regiment in 1840, at that time commanded by the noted Col. Pack.  He accompanied his regiment with the expedition to the Cape of Good Hope, served with the corps at the capture of Cape Town, and the total defeat of the enemy on that occasion. After this affair the 71^st proceeded to South America, where it was actively engaged in the operations against the enemy. The contest was at first crowned with success ; but other events of an unforeseen nature, especially the disgrace of General Whitelock, commanding the forces, led to the defeat of the English, who were overpowered and made prisoners of war, Buenos Ayres falling into the hands of the enemy. According to some reports then in circulation, it was given out that  the flints were removed from the fire-arms of our soldiers, but in what manner never came clearly to light.  Couples escorted the British officers into the interior of the country. The late Major-General Macdonald , of the Royal Artillery, was Ensign L’Estrange’s companion on the journey:  Buenos Ayres into the wildest part of South America, and detained as prisoners upwards of twelve months.

About this period Colonel Pack effected his escape from the enemy under very trying circumstances.  A humorous rhyme came out at the time relating to that gallant officer’s flight:-

“The devil break the gaoler’s back,
That let thee loose, sweet Denis Pack.”

A treaty of peace was soon afterwards brought about, and the British troops returned to England.

In 1806 Ensign L’Estrange was promoted to a Lieutenancy in the 71^st.  He accompanied them with the expedition to Portugal, under the late Sir John Moore, at the breaking out of the Peninsular War; and served in the various operations of the army until the beginning of 1809, when he was again taken prisoner.

The following extract is taken from a journal of the late Sir Benjamin D’Urban:-

“In the latter end of 1808, I was employed on the Quartermaster-General’s staff.  I was sent on a service of observation of great importance to ascertain the real movements of a French corps, under Marshal Lefevre, that had arrived at Placencia and Coria, and seriously menaced the frontiers of Portugal”. (Then very defenceless).

“Major Guy L’Estrange, an old and dear friend of mine, of the 31^st Regiment, and his cousin Lieutenant Edmund L’Estrange, of the 71^st Regiment, at their own desire accompanied me, and we proceeded with all possible speed to Legura, Alcantrara, and Coria, where we came into the immediate neighbourhood of the French corps, and were enabled to watch it closely, and send back to Portugal correct intelligence of its movements.”

“In the course of this service, which required great circumspection, I was deeply indebted to the active ability of my two companions, and I well remember the sagacity and spirit of enterprise of Lieutenant L’Estrange, and the great advantage besides which I derived from his knowledge of the Spanish language, of which I was then sadly ignorant.  Thus we attended Sir Robert Wilson in the desultory but very enterprising operations in which he was then incessantly engaged, and which had for their object to deceive the enemy, and delay as long as possible his nearer advance to learn the defenceless condition of the frontiers of Portugal.  Very valuable and gallant were the services of Lieutenant L’Estrange in all these enterprises, until at length Sir Robert Wilson in person surprised and carried off a small post of French cavalry near Calvedella, in the attack of which Edmund L’Estrange’s behaviour was as usual excellent.  But The French reserve coming rapidly to the rescue with an overpowering superiority, as well in number as in quality of their force, overthrew and routed us, and pursed us very inveterately.  In the confusion of our retreat poor L’Estrange fell into the hands of the French cavalry, who surrounded and made him prisoner.  He was then sent into France, and I deeply lamented his loss on every account, public and private, for he was a most amiable and estimable young man; and a more gallant and intelligent officer, or one of greater promise, it has never been my good fortune to meet with; and I had afterwards good reason to know how highly he was thought of by his regimental commanding officer, Sir Denis Pack (whose aide-de-camp he afterwards became), and by his whole regiment”.

His sudden capture was entirely owing to the horse he rode having formerly belonged to the French Cavalry.  L’Estrange was at this period employed in reconnoitering at some distance in advance of his friends.  A mounted picket of the enemy, who, upon observing him, caused their trumpeter to blow the charge, unexpectedly surprised him.  His horse became instantly unmanageable; the well-known martial sound completely fascinated the animal, so that all his efforts to spur him on proved fruitless.  From this unlucky event he was surrounded and made prisoner; the officer in command coming up at the moment in full gallop, made a cut at him with his saber, which, however, L’Estrange dexterously parried, and he then was forced to surrender.  Lieutenant L’Estrange was now taken under escort overland to Verdun, in the east of France, a station selected by their Government for English prisoners of war.  The journey occupied some time, and was tedious and fatiguing.  He arrived at his destination in March, 1809, and was detained for a considerable period at that place on parole.

At first he became reconciled in a measure to his position, in consequence of the hospitality evinced by the French residents at Verdun to the English prisoners. Balls and parties succeeded each other, and a variety of amusements introduced, to all of which the were invited. At a ball masque L’Estrange appeared in female costume, where the following adventure occurred to him, which unfortunately resulted in a duel, and he was severely wounded.

His partner in the dance, a naval officer of the British service, was not aware of the deception; his attentions being encouraged, a flirtation ensued, which gave no little amusement to those in the secret. During the course of the evening the officer in question discovered the imposition; but instead of taking it in good part, his anger was aroused.  An apology was freely offered, and every exertion made by friends on both sides to subdue his resentment.  All their efforts were unavailing; nothing would satisfy him but a hostile meeting, which accordingly took place the next morning.  L’Estrange fired in the air; his opponent’s shot, passing through his right side, seriously wounded him, but he ultimately made a perfect recovery.  His adversary expressed deep regret for what had happened, and was particularly kind to him during his illness: they afterwards became great friends.

This incident created no little sensation in the various circles of Verdun.  The police were much censured on account of the duel, and the authorities dismissed some from office; this naturally gave rise to increased animosity towards the English.  Some time after he had a disagreement with a tradesman who exacted payment of his bill over again.  The receipt could not at first be found amongst his papers, and, refusing to wait until further search had been made, the tradesman hurried to the Prefect to lodge a complaint, glad of an opportunity to exercise his power.  L’Estrange was thus unjustly thrown into prison, without even giving him the satisfaction of explaining the circumstance.  However, at this period it occurred to him that he could now, with propriety and honour, effect his escape; he was tired of a life of idleness and dissipation, and longed to resume the active duties of the profession.  Full of this idea, he consulted his friends on the subject, for he had many; in fact, he was a universal favourite; they all agreed that as he was imprisoned his parole became nugatory.  With these assurances, he made up his mind to escape, and succeeded in doing so, disguised as a peddler.  By this arrangement, he was enabled to carry some wearing apparel without attracting particular notice.  His knowledge of the French language (which he spoke with fluency) he found of great use, but the want of a passeport was a terrible drawback.  To avoid the police, who were constantly on his track, often puzzled him, and he was obliged to journey on foot at night, taking refuge in the woods by day.  He had provided himself with a variety of costumes, yet, with all his precautions, he had the utmost difficulty to outwit the vigilance of the gendarmerie in pursuit of him.  One adventure is worth relating, and somewhat romantic.  He was so closely pressed by his tormentors, that he adopted the disguise of a female, in peasant’s dress which he purchased in a village at nightfall. Returning with the dress to a neighbouring wood, his late hiding-place, he put it on, concealing the other garments there; repairing to an auberge for refreshment in his new character, and while in the act of partaking it, the police suddenly made their appearance. He heard them eagerly inquiring after a fugitive English prisoner, describing to the landlord a person resembling himself in all particulars; they were actually in the same room within a few steps of him, but, quietly continuing his repast, he did not attract their observation.

In the same costume he approached a cottage in the vicinity of the village, and begged a night’s lodging; his request was granted. In order to baffle the designs of the police, he resolved to remain in his present concealment.  The cottagers were extremely kind, and not arousing their suspicions he passed a week with those good people, assisting them to work in the fields, it being harvest time.  In this manner he made himself very useful to his host family, consisting of the farmer, his wife, two sons, and a daughter.  After a few days the latter discovered his deception; she promised faithfully not to betray him, and she kept her word.  To get away from this perilous position without delay was not an easy matter; his inventive genius did not desert him now.  Feigning sickness one morning, he proposed to take charge of the dwelling while the family were at work; during their absence he fled from the cottage, and reached his hiding-place in the wood, without attracting any notice, where he had previously left his bungle.

In the afternoon observing a party of mounted gendarmerie proceeding towards the village, he felt convinced they were the very same that he had been in such unpleasantly close proximity to at the auberge: he was afterwards confirmed in this supposition.  Later in the day he saw a man advancing on horseback with a pillion; reflecting upon the wisest plan to pursue, he suddenly decided how to act, and coming out of his shady recess, asked the rider to give him a lift? His request was willingly complied with. “Montez, Mademoiselle!” said the equestrian, and, backing the animal, our adventurer was soon seated on the pillion. While conversing with his unsuspecting companion, who told him as an amusing piece of information, he had just met the gendarmerie, and they were in search of an English prisoner who had escaped from Verdun!  Prudence prompted him not to be too inquisitive, in case it might lead to more awkward consequences.  He had ascertained the fact without doubt that the party referred to were retracing their steps in pursuit of the fugitive, and like hounds at fault in the chase, were trying back to find their game.

This circumstance removed considerable uneasiness from his mind, and he now hoped to be able to continue his journey with less risk of being captured.  When they had travelled about two leagues he dismounted, wishing him good night, with many thanks for his politeness; and directed his steps towards a plantation which was some little distance from the read, where, throwing off his woman’s garb for that of his own sex, and feeling less apprehensive than he had done for some time, he lifted up his heart in gratitude to God for thus far preserving him from falling into the hands of his enemies; then, sitting down to rest in this tranquil spot, he began considering which would be the safest character to personate on his way to Rotterdam.  The female he thought objectionable, as the police might have gained information from the cottagers, of his late proceedings, and the peddler’s was equally imprudent; so he resolved to equip himself as a sailor; but alas! on seeking through his little stock of requisites, he did not possess the necessary additions to make his toilet complete as a jolly tar; at last he decided to try the dress of a labourer seeking harvest work; with a red wig and a patch on his eye, he was sure it would be difficult for any one to recognize him.  After reposing until twilight set in, he emerged cautiously from his place of concealment, and resumed his journey onwards.  Here an there he succeeded in picking up the rig-out of a sailor, which he adopted.

From this period he was particularly fortunate, and finally arrived at Rotterdam without further adventure.  It was in the autumn of 1810 he entered that city.  He put up at an obscure inn frequented by nautical people, with a view not only of avoiding detection, but also to be in a better position of procuring a passage to England, a most difficult matter to accomplish, as the war was then at its height between the two nations, and the gendarmerie always on the qui-vive.

He negotiated with a smuggler to land him on the British coast for a stipulated sum; but instead of fulfilling his agreement he betrayed him to the police, and L’Estrange was arrested and put in irons.  He was detained at Rotterdam until instructions were received from the Government respecting his future destination.

In the meantime very vigilant measures were observed to prevent his escape; a sentry, with loaded gun, was placed outside his prison-door day and night.

When about three weeks had elapsed, an order came for his removal to the Fortress of Bitche, under a strong escort.  This most trying journey lasted upwards of six weeks; his sufferings the while were truly distressing, as the gendarmes treated him with the utmost cruelty the whole way, and were in the habit of tying their unfortunate victim to the tail of one of their horses, thus inhumanly dragging him along.  He remonstrated against such barbarous discipline as calmly as his painful position would admit of: it proved of no avail, they compelled him to submit; at the end of each weary day, he was confined in the darkest cell they could procure in the prisons of the different towns at which they halted.

During this tedious march he was deprived of the common comforts of life; he did not exchange any part of his wearing apparel, not even his shirt, the whole way; he was reduced to a shocking state of misery, a spectacle worse than the poorest beggar.  On reaching the Fortress of Bitch he was placed in a dungeon heavily ironed, forty feet underground: all hopes of liberty now seemed utterly lost. Tortured in mind as well as body, together with the hardships he had endured on his journey, immured in a damp, loathsome cell, without pure air, and scarcely a glimmer of light, covered with dirt and vermin, it is not to be supposed he could bear much longer this weight of woe.

In words of fervent prayer he besought the Almighty to release him from his agony, and ere many days had elapsed he ceased to feel at least the bitterness of his fate, as he was soon seized with violent fever, which, for a time, rendered him insensible to the torments so mercilessly heaped upon him by his relentless persecutors.

For weeks his life was despaired of.  At length he rallied, but did not recover his strength for more than six months.  During his convalescence he was often visited by a French officer stationed in the fortress, who appeared to take a lively interest in him, and owing to his kindness his condition was much improved.  Through his intercession the irons were set aside, and he was removed to a better quarter, not so damp or deep underground.  The fever he was labouring under being of a very sever type he progressed but slowly, extreme debility followed; this humane young man procured him wine and more nutritious food that was usually allowed, indeed he was the means, in God’s hands, of saving his life by his constant care.  His friend had often charge of the guard over the prisoners.  The officer on this duty had a privilege of inviting one of the prisoners at a time, under certain restrictions, to his guard-room.

As L’Estrange gradually regained his health, whenever the already spoken of young Frenchman was employed in this service, he invariably selected him amongst the others; they thus became most intimate.  Owing to his interference, the commandant granted him permission to exercise in a courtyard with the rest of his fellow-captives, which indulgence was not intended to extend to him in consequence of his escape from Verdun.  This little walk every day, even in so narrow a space, was a great source of enjoyment after a close confinement of so many months; he now managed occasionally to hold converse with some of his companions during his hour of recreation.  Notwithstanding the endless precautions adhered to, sentries posted everywhere to prevent if possible any chance of escape, yet more and more arose the long pent-up, fondly cherished prospect of liberty: he panted for freedom, thoughts of dear absent friends, and distant loved scenes continually haunted him.  An active mind when roused to dwell on the attainment f any particular object will never deem it hopeless, but on the contrary exert every energy to overcome the difficulties, let them be ever so great and perplexing.  Such was his case.

At this period he was senior of his rank in the 71^st, and what particularly annoyed him was the circumstance of so many of his juniors having been promoted over him, arising from the regulations of the service prohibiting officers obtaining advancement in their profession while prisoners of war.

L’Estrange’s friends at home used every exertions to effect an exchange with a French prisoner of war of his own rank.  The authorities at the Horse Guards forwarded this measure to the utmost, but the French Government was dilatory, so the application failed to come to anything, hence another disappointment.  the only chance of getting away form his hated state of exile was in flight, and how to accomplish this undertaking was ever uppermost in his mind.

He came to the conclusion it would be madness to attempt so hazardous a scheme without assistance, and for some time felt puzzled as to who would be the best person in the garrison to entrust with his secret plans.  at length he decided upon consulting the French officer, whose repeated kindness led him now to hope he would not shrink from affording all the necessary aid to further his views; elated with these reflections, and earnestly seeking God’s blessing on the result, he determined to await patiently the first opportunity. It was difficult to repress the eagerness he felt for the interview to come off.  Fortunately, not many days elapsed ere the longed-for event took place, by receiving an invitation from his friend to meet in the guard-room allotted for those (as before said) on this duty.  His warmhearted companion realized his fondest expectations, entering fully into his numerous projects, and promised to help him to the utmost of his power to carry them out.  And, truly, all along he never forsook him, but continued his faithful ally to the end.

They could not at first come to any definite understanding on the subject, it required some mature consideration.  On one occasion L’Estrange related that during the hour’s exercise in the prison-yard he had now and then spoken to a spirited lad, an English midshipman, full of life and activity, who pined so sadly to get off, talking of nothing else, poor boy.  Could it be possibly arranged for them to go together? He was undoubtedly an intelligent youth, and might be of use.  After various conversations, carefully weighing every obstacle in their path, they at last agreed that the least likely chance of attracting notice was to leave the fortress in the dress of a French officer, which his friend volunteered to provide him out of his own kit, and the young middy, in a suit of livery, to pass off as his servant.  The clothes were to be smuggled by degrees into each of their cells.  When all this was satisfactorily accomplished, and both knew the countersign, the kindly Frenchman told them they were to prepare on such an evening, at a certain hour, for he purposed when taking his rounds to leave their dungeon-doors unlocked for a few minutes, so as to give them the opportunit of slipping out, and then he intended joining them a short distance, to guide their steps within view of the entrance- gate.

It need hardly be said how anxiously they awaited the time appointed for their deliverance.  At length the lock turning grated on their attentive ears, warning them both to make their exit at once, when the officer silently approached according to promise, leading the way through dismal corridors, dimly lit here and there by an oil lamp, until getting out into the night air.  After going a little further, whispered a God-speed to them and hurried farewell, motioning by a gesture the path to take, soon disappeared in a contrary direction.

Our two fugitives proceeded on, until abruptly accosted by a sentinel with the usual Qui vive? who then turned to address his unsophisticated companion.  L’Estrange recollecting at the moment he could not speak a word of correct French, quickly exclaimed, “C’est mon domestique:” to their intense relief the sentry added, “C’est bon; passe, mon officer,” and unfastening the postern, quietly allowed them to depart.

The formidable ramparts of the citadel frowned menacingly in the gloom, increasing the darkness as they hastily strode along;: at the termination of them.  Without further interruptions, they found themselves on the main road, and heartily thankful for their good luck so far; and breathing more freely than they had as yet done, they were enabled to converse unreservedly, the elder impressing the young fellow with him to be sure to follow his advice regarding their movements, as so much depended on prudence and forethought.  He told him his object was to reach Verdum, a distance of thirty leagues, where he had many friends and acquaintances prisoners of war, one in particular being Sir Stephen May, to whom he had communicated his intention of effecting his escape from Bitche, requesting him, if he could possibly manage it, to render any assistance in the event of his being compelled to scale the walls of that garrison, every turn of which he knew so well during his lengthened detention there.  The greatest drwback now to contend with arose from the want of a passeport, which precluded them from attempting to enter the town without being arrested, or to travel in any public conveyance.

It was June, 1811, between nine and ten o’clock p.m., that these two commenced their journey on foot to Verdun.  The undertaking was favoured by mild, warm weather; they calculated that their escape would not be discovered until eight o’clock the next morning, when measures would be immediately taken to follow their track.  L’Estrange being the most experienced, decided upon their doing as he did before, walking all night long, and resting by day in some hiding-place, from whence they might singly emerge cautiously to purchase food at unfrequented-looking farm-houses, or small village shops.

Making the most of their time, they continued steadily to advance on their way, thinking they must have now go nearly forty miles from Bitche.  Feeling completely exhausted, unaccustomed to exercise as they had been to months, their feet began to swell and blister most painfully, so both resolved to take refuge in the first wood they came to, and recruit their failing strength, after which one or other should sally forth to procure something to eat, as the cravings of appetite were becoming highly unpleasant.

L’Estrange considered it advisable then to divest himself of the French uniform for that of a peasant, a light suit of which he had put on under the military one, with a wig and bonnet blue he had stowed away in his pretended servant’s pocket before stating.  discarding his false mustachios, he made a bundle of the things taken off, and each gladly laid down on the soft green grass, very soon falling into a deep sleep.

From this they awoke greatly refreshed.  After which he went to seek some bread or anything in that way, and shortly returned with a pretty fair supply of what they were so much in need of; partaking of their fugal meal, they again set out with renewed vigour, L’Estrange carrying the bundle of clothes under his arm.  It was now the dusk of the evening, and the stars were twinkling numerously in the dark blue canopy above, and thoughts of the mighty Creator of all things roused feelings of love and gratitude God for their safety thus far.  these young men knew their capture would be certain should their pursuers overtake them. Although they felt very stiff in their limbs on resuming the journey, they fully determined not to stop until Verdun came in sight, except for a short time, during the of the next day, so on they went the whole night.

The hot morning sun became at length very overpowering. The midshipman declared his toe-nails were coming off, and sure enough on examination it was found to be the case. Seeing a stream of cool water, in it they bathed their weary feet, and found it most soothing; they fain would have stayed on there, but it was too near the high road.  About a quater of a mile distant appeared a thick plantation: to that they directed their steps, where they managed to get several hours’ needful rest.  Upon arising, contrary to L’Estrange’s advice, his companion said he must bathe his feet once more in the water they were at in the morning.  The former told him very probably he might be perceived, and if spoken to, not knowing the language well, would undoubtedly cause suspicion; he would persist in going, as his feet were so painful the temptation could not be resisted.

L’Estrange watched his receding figure, anxiously trusting he would come back all right.  But it was other wise ordained, for hour after hour passed without his doing so; much alarmed, and heartily grieved for his friend’s imprudence.  A dozen times he was on the point of going in quest of him, when voices and the sound of horses’ feet in the distance warned him what madness it would be to venture out.  Alas! poor fellow! that he had been seized by the police there could be little doubt.

Quite unnerved and depressed by what had happened, the perils of his own position weighed more heavily on his mind now than when shared with by another. He knew his chief chance of safety was to remain perfectly still until darkness set in; he singled out the largest tree to climb into, should he hear any one approaching his place of concealment.

It was with deep feelings of sadness for the fate of his less fortunate comrade, that he started once more on his way much later than usual, thinking about sixteen miles further would bring him to the walls of Verdun, where he fully expected to meet Sir Stephen May waiting to render the assistance he had solicited from him, to get into the town.  Buoyed up with this hope, he made all the speed he could; but on arriving at the wished-for haven great was his disappointment to find his friend had mistaken the point of rendezvous.  Owing to this he had to stop outside the town all night, to try and scale the walls without help was the height of folly.  Overcome with fatigue and hunger he continued for a long time in a sort of stupor, until daylight roused him to a deeper sense of his helpless condition; he was completely at a loss what course to pursue. If he was much longer in his present destitute state he must perish from hunger; if he surrendered, the horrors of a dungeon awaited him.

In this desponding mood his attention was attracted by observing the approach of some wagons loaded with hay, proceeding towards the entrance-gate.  Suddenly a new means of deliverance flashed across his brain, his plan was instantly formed, of cautiously drawing near to, and walking by the side of one of them, shaded by its bulky freight from the driver’s view.  Strange to say, in this simple manner he safely passed the barrier without arresting the notice of the officials employed to demand passports, their usual vigilance was at fault on this occasion.  He quickly hurried to the residence of Sir Stephen May, who gave him a hearty welcome, although little expecting his arrival, having given up all hopes of his succeeding to elude the watchfulness of the gendarmes.

He related to his friend the history of all the sufferings he had gone through since their last meeting, not forgetting to tell the sad capture of the poor young midshipman the day before.

L’Estrange had now, as much as ever, to be on his guard to avoid discovery; for the French Government offered large rewards for his apprehension.  Strict orders were given to search in every direction to find him.  The dwelling of his host was frequently visited by the police, as well as the hulses of all the English prisoners.  His friend contrived an ingenious hiding-place for him, in a small recess annexed to their sitting-room; in this L’Estrange took refuge during the operation of searching, which answered admirably.  These restrictions obliged him to be constantly on the alert.

Sir Stephen’s servant (a most faithful creature) was let into the secret, after vowing never to betray him, and his efforts proved of great assistance.

Sir Stephen and he alone knew the singular position he was placed in; a telegraphic warning was established between them, the latter, announcing by a peculiar whistle the approach of the enemy; owing to this arrangement L’Estrange had time to fly to his place of concealment.  In consequence of having so constantly to be on the qui-vive, his stay at Verdun was considerably prolonged, being unable to leave the house except at night well disguised.

One evening, while out in this way, the following incident occurred, showing what risk he ran.  Meeting an old brother officer, Captain R----, he was about to welcome him aloud, when L’Estrange afraid of exciting observation, made a sign to prevent his doing so, and they passed each other without further recognition.  Day by day getting more impatient with such bagatelle work, an idea suggested itself which might tend to divert the gendarmes from incessantly persecuting him.  By means of the press, through the agency of his friend, he had an advertisement published in a Paris newspaper.  It notified that the “fugitive English office, Monsieur L’Estrange, who absconded from Bitch, had arrived safely on the coast of France, and was supposed to be hidden near Calais, awaiting an opportunity to escape to England”.

In the course of a few weeks, the result of this scheme became apparent, as the officials sensibly relaxed in their precautions, and eventually discontinued their unwelcome visits to Sir Stephen’s dwelling.  This was a great victory gained, the wheel of fortune had certainly taken a turn in his favour, but he did not, however, abate in his measures to guard against surprise; the reward offered to secure him was too tempting a bait to be altogether lost sight of.  To obtain a passe-port now exclusively occupied his thoughts, as being unprovided with one prevented his progress onwards.

Sir Stephen May at last helped him out of this dilemma by rather a questionable mode of transaction, but which was happily crowned with success.  He happened to be at a stationer’s shop, where he was in the habit of dealing; while employed in selecting some articles he required.  He was accidentally shown the passe-port forms, this was a good opportunity of realizing the wishes of L’Estrange: to purchase any would only lead to suspicion, so he resolved to take possession of some of them secretly.  When the shopman was otherwise engaged he cleverly managed to pocket a couple unobserved, and he returned in the highest spirits, triumphantly displaying his treasures to the astonished gaze of L’Estrange. The next consideration was how to fill up one of these forms in the usual way, with a description of the bearer, his age and profession; it was a puzzling task to undertake, and which required much practice at dissimulation to accomplish.  With an old passe-port of his friend’s he commenced copying all the signatures of the prefects, and in a short time completed it so dexterously that the closest observer could not detect the fraud.

Although very fragile, the identical passe-port is still in existence.  Another obstacle had still to be overcome before he could leave Verdun; it was necessary to have his passe-port examined by the authorities.  To attain this object he employed Sir Stephen’s trusty servant to concoct a plan for getting it done.  He accordingly left the precious document at the passe-port office with a message from the owner, saying he was unable to present it himself as his time was so fully occupied, but would call for it in a few days.  The servant then deputed an acquaintance to apply for it at the appointed hour, requesting him to state that pressure of business was the cause of Monsieur not doing so.  The paper was handed to the messenger, signed in regular form, without remark, the servant, cautious and intelligent, remained at some distance from the office, anxiously awaiting the result.  After receiving it safely, he quickly hastened home to his master, highly delighted in having thus easily outwitted the officials, and exultingly delivered it to L’Estrange, who warmly thanked this worthy man for the service he had so cleverly performed.

On the following day, sir Stephen was informed, during a conversation with a French officer of the garrison, that the Government had come to the conclusion the British officer who escaped from Bitche had reached Calais.  Although strict search was desired to be made in all directions, no tidings had since been heard of him.  Nothing in the shape of news could just then pleased L’Estrange more; possessed as he now was of the long coveted passe-port, he decided at once upon leaving Verdun.

Dressed again in the French uniform, which he wore with such success on his departure from Bitche; assuming a black wig and mustachios of the same dark hue, he presented a most imposing appearance, feigning the mane of Captain Robert, journeying to the seat of war in Sprain, to rejoin his regiment.  Before starting, he found it absolutely necessary to replenish his scanty wardrobe, which consisted only, when he arrived in his humble garb at Verdun, of the small bundle already twice mentioned, containing the uniform he was then wearing.

Having completed all these arrangements to his satisfaction, and feeling most thankful to God for his present brighter prospects, after bidding a long farewell to his good and kind friend, not forgetting the faithful attendant whose efforts had been so useful, he left Verdun by the night diligence in the middle of April, 1812. He reached Paris without any particular occurrence, his passe-port stamped by authority gave him assurance and safety; passing through fortified towns it was examined but not very closely, seeing that the owner was a military man.  His place of abode in the French capital was a quiet hotel in a remote quarter of the city, where he changed his uniform, and put on civilian’s clothes.  Thinking he would be less remarkable in them, and having more freedom of action, be the better enabled to visit and enjoy the numerous attractions in that charming metropolis.

He saw the young King of Rome, son and heir of the great Napoleon (whose sad fate was little contemplated then).  Having satisfied his curiosity with all that was to be seen in the chief city of France, his next care was to prepare for his journey onwards, and to get his passe-port once more stamped without creating suspicion, which he was fortunate enough to get done without much delay.  So he started again by the diligence for Bordeaux, disguised similarly as on leaving Verdun.

The only event which took place in going there worth mentioning, happened during a conversation with two fellow travellers, French officers; one of them asked him if he was a Frenchman, to which he replied he was a Dutchman, but had been long resident in France.  He told them this as a thought the language of that country the most unlikely for his companions to understand.  This opinion proved correct, for they pressed him no further, but it was a great relief to him when they happily took their departure from the diligence before it arrived at Bordeaux.

Having safely got there, he repaired to the residence of a family to whom Sir Stephen May had given him a letter of introduction, where he was most kindly received.  The family promised to assist him to the utmost of their power to facilitate his escape to England.  they appeared to take a warm interest in his welfare, congratulated him on his clever flight from Bitche, and assured him the authorities had abandoned the idea of recapturing him as hopeless, having come to the conclusion that he had already reached England.  This was all very satisfactory; he felt quite at home with these hospitable people, and began at once consulting them regarding the most prudent plan of regaining his native land.  He left off the uniform, appearing again as a civilian, and requested his new friends as a favour to intimate to the servants of the house that Monsieur was a connection of the family.  This suggestion they adopted without delay, both to promote their own safety, as well as to satisfy the curiosity of the establihment.

His chief employment now consisted in making the requisite preparations for him much desired journey home.  To secure passage from Bordeaux to England, at a period when war was at its height between the two countries, was extremely hazardous and almost impossible.  The scheme he formed to carry out this object was a bold expedient, but none other appeared practicable, namely, to purchase a boat and sail direct for Great Britain.

In accordance with this resolution, he bought a fishing-boat, hired a servant, and procured a passe-port to proceed down the river, in which both were described as fishermen.  The next thing was to lay in a supply of provisions and water; to get a chart of the river, a compass, together with nets and other fishing apparatus. Having had some experience formerly in yachting, satisfied also that the sailor was well skilled, likewise that their united efforts were found sufficient to manage the small craft.

In two days they got to the mouth of the river very quietly, but shortly began to feel the effects of the swell that at all times more or less agitates the Bay of Biscay.  It told at once on the frail bark they were in; one great roll of the mighty element would have quickly sent them to perdition.  Up to this moment his sailor servant had no idea of the enterprise he was about to attempt; the open sea before them, a stiff breeze and the mountain-like waves of the ocean, raised him to a terrible state of alarm; he asked in a most excited manner if Monsieur intended running out to sea.  L’Estrange giving him no answer, he was on the point of raising a signal to attract the guard-ship anchored at the entrance of the Harbour.  L’Estrange, fully alive to the fact that his fate was sealed if the crew of the frigate took the alarm, the occasion required no wavering of purpose - at the impulse of the moment he clapped a pistol to the fellow’s head and threatened to shoot him if he dared to move or utter a sound. This had the desired effect; he remained silent and motionless for a considerable time afterwards.  The wind being off the land was so far favourable for their progress, when just at this critical point, two chassemarees were dispatched in pursuit of them.  with a fervent prayer to the Almighty to preserve him.

L’Estrange put on all the sail the little smack could bear, seized the tiller from his trembling companion and struck out right from shore.  They had a good offing and a good start, being separated by several miles from the enemy’s boats when the chase began.  They continued firing every now and then, the shots fortunately only whistling harmlessly in the air.  Providentially the wind lulled, and a dead calm set in.  His servant by this time become more reconciled to his position, thinking it probably wisest to make the best of a bad bargain, took to the oars and they both pulled lustily as for their lives.  It was nearly dusk ere they lost sight of the persevering chasse-marees. All night they continued in this way, now rowing, now resting to recruit their weary frames.  But towards morning the wind freshening, L’Estrange shaped his course by compass for the Basques Roads, where he knew the British fleet was at anchor on the look out for the enemy.

Thus the day passed anxiously on.  However, about noon, his fondest hopes were realized by coming in sight of the English squadron. With fervent thanks to God for His great mercies and boundless joy be bore direct for them.  As he approached the fleet, a boat was dispatched from the flag-ship, with orders to board and search the stranger.  During this process, L’Estrange lost but little time in apprising the crew that he was an English officer, who had escaped from France, where he had been more than three years a prisoner.  Upon hearing this the honest sailors welcomed him with loud and hearty cheers.

In this rapturous manner he was conducted to the flag-ship, amidst the roars of the gallant tars.  When he came to the quarter-deck the cheers and hurrahs were repeated by all the officers and seamen on board each vessel.  He was then presented to the Admiral, who received him with the utmost kindness, providing him with every comfort.  He related the outlines of his adventures to the Admiral, who listened to his story with profound attention, after which he highly complimented him on his ability and tact in making such a remarkable escape.

It would be difficult to describe his feelings of happiness in finding himself at last safely on board a British man-of-war. After all the hardships and difficulties he had gone through, it graciously pleased the Almighty to crown his efforts in the end with success.  Before many days elapsed, he was landed at Plymouth, where the Mayor and Corporation of that borough gave him a public dinner, on which occasion his health was drunk with all the honours.

He proceeded from Plymouth forthwith to London, and obtained an interview with his late Royal Highness ant Duke of York, who gave him a most gratifying reception.  A company being then vacant in the 71^st, His Royal Highness was pleased to grant his promotion; and, in addition, bestowed upon him all his back rank in the regiment as a particular mark of his favour.

He subsequently sailed for Portugal, and became aide-de-camp to Sir Denis Pack, then in command of a brigade of the army under Wellington.  He served on his staff with that brigade, which bore a very distinguished part, to the close of the Peninsular War in 1814.  He was wounded at the battle of Vittoria, and had two horses shot under him at Toulouse, the last desperate engagement in the Peninsular war.

When at Bordeaux again, he had the pleasure of meeting the kind family, who were instrumental in assisting him in his departure from that place: they still continued to pay him every attention and hospitality.

Bonaparte having been once more proclaimed Emperor of France, after his flight form Elba in 1815, hostilities recommenced between England and France.

At the memorable battle of Waterloo, Sir Denis Pack(1) was a second time in command of a brigade.  L’Estrange, now brevet-major, was again appointed his aide-de-camp.  In the midst of the thickest of the carnage which took place on that ever to be remembered day, this gallant young fellow was struck down in that terrible but victorious battle.  a round-shot struck and shattered his right leg, killing his horse at the same moment.  He underwent amputation of the limb, but the fearful shock to the nervous system, and excessive loss of blood, proved to much for his constitution, and he died from exhaustion.  Thus fell prematurely as brave an officer as ever served in the British army, at the early age of Twenty-seven, and eleven years’ service, most deeply lamented by a widowed mother, and a numerous circle of sorrowing relatives and friends.