At this time I heard the tramping of the French soldiers advancing, when O’Brien threw away the hammer and lifting me upon his shoulders cried, “Come along, Peter, my boy,” and made for the boat as fast as he could.  But he was too late; he had not got half-way to the boat before he was collared by two French soldiers and dragged back into the battery.  The French troops then advanced and kept up a smart fire; our cutter escaped and joined the other boat, who had captured the gunboats and convoy with little opposition.

In the meantime, O’Brien had been taken into the battery with me on his back; but as soon as he was there he laid me gently down, saying, “Peter, my boy, as long as you were under my charge, I’d carry you through thick and thin; but now that you are under the charge of these French beggars, why, let them carry you.”

When the troops ceased firing (and if O’Brien had left one gun unspiked they must have done a great deal of mischief to our boats), the commanding officer came up to O’Brien, and looking at him, said, “Officer?” to which O’Brien nodded his head.  He then pointed to me—­“Officer?” O’Brien nodded his head again, at which the French troops laughed, and called me an enfant.

Then, as I was very faint and could not walk, I was carried on three muskets, O’Brien walking by my side, till we reached the town of Cette; there we were taken to the commanding officer’s house.  It turned out that this officer’s name was also O’Brien, and that he was of Irish descent.  He and his daughter Celeste, a little girl of twelve, treated us both with every kindness.  Celeste was my little nurse, and we became very intimate, as might be expected.  Our chief employment was teaching each other French and English.

Before two months were over, I was quite recovered, and soon the time came when we were to leave our comfortable quarters for a French prison.  Captain Savage had sent our clothes and two hundred dollars to us under a flag of truce, and I had taken advantage of this to send a letter off which I dictated to Colonel O’Brien, containing my statement of the affair, in which I mentioned O’Brien’s bravery in spiking the gun and in looking after me.  I knew that he would never tell if I didn’t.

At last the day came for us to leave, and my parting with Celeste was very painful.  I promised to write to her, and she promised to answer my letters if it were permitted.  We shook hands with Colonel O’Brien, thanking him for his kindness, and much to his regret we were taken in charge by two French cuirassiers, and so set off, on parole, on horseback for Toulon.

From Toulon we were moved to Montpelier, and from Montpelier to Givet, a fortified town in the department of Ardennes, where we arrived exactly four months after our capture.

III.—­We Make Our Escape

O’Brien had decided at once that we should make our escape from the prison at Givet.