The Fishguard Invasion by the French in 1797 Part 9

However, Nancy was not to be put off so; she would go. She had been in service for some years at Trehowel and she considered that the kitchen belonged to her, and it went to her heart to think of the damage done.

She could have no peace till she could begin to repair it, and to set things once more in order to receive home the bride, as now the strangely postponed wedding would surely take place.

Davy Jones went too-I suppose because Nancy did; they seemed great friends now, though previously the young woman had been in the habit of giving him the cold shoulder, I imagine because of his habit of smuggling; but I did not take much interest in the matter as a boy, not understanding the fair s.e.x; indeed, even in after years I doubt if I ever quite succeeded in fathoming their method of reasoning. However, it is quite certain that as Nancy permitted it Davy was quite content to go wherever she did, and he gave her and me also a seat in his cart. I went too, for I thought that if there was anything to be seen I might as well see it; and I had heard that General Tate had gone back there after the surrender-on parole. I had some curiosity to see him again, and I thought it due to myself to witness the end of this affair, of which I had chanced to see the very beginning.

As we went up the steep hill from Goodwick, we were joined by a party of the Fishguard Fencibles, sent to look after the scattered inebriates, and to take the swords and words of the retiring French officers. When we got to Brestgarn we encountered the grinning face of Llewellyn, about whom Nancy and I had had many an uneasy thought. He told us that his captors had not ill-treated him beyond making him work for them, that they had kept a sharp eye on him for a day and two nights and then he had managed to escape. He had hidden for a while, but as soon as possible had returned to look after his master's goods. Llewellyn was a very ordinary looking man with unpolished-even uncouth manners, but it struck me that he had a stronger sense of duty than is usual.

[Picture: Trehowel: General Tate's Headquarters]

A few steps further brought us to Trehowel. Out rushed all the dogs, barking, jumping, tail-wagging-absolutely wild with delight at the recovery of their own master. A grey-haired gentleman came forward and addressed Mr. Mortimer with much courtesy-

"Sir, the dogs know you. I presume you are the master here?"

"I was so once. Down, Gelert! Quiet, Corge!"

The officer then introduced himself to Mr. Mortimer as General Tate. He went on to say that he had understood that the Welsh people were ripe for revolt and that they might march throughout Wales and even a good deal further with wooden swords. That it had been a great disappointment to him to find this was not the case, that it had also been a source of annoyance to him to be deserted by his s.h.i.+ps, but that the most unpleasant sensation he had ever experienced had been the failing of heart he had felt as his foot touched Welsh soil.

I listened with all my ears to this interesting discourse, which happily I was able to understand, for General Tate being an Irishman spoke English perfectly.

Our attention was diverted by a cry-a cry of surprise which broke from Nancy with a suddenness which startled all of us. We all turned hastily round and beheld the girl standing as if petrified, with her arm stretched out and her hand pointing towards a man who stood a few yards from her-apparently one of the stragglers among the French soldiers, for he was clothed in the same way as the majority of them-a British soldier's uniform which had been dyed a rusty brown. The man looked dumb-foundered but Nancy found her tongue.

"So it is you, James Bowen, who have betrayed your own people to strangers. Uch a fi, traitor; I could strike you where you stand!"

"Shall I do it for you, Nancy?" suggested Davy, ready to hobble out of the cart.

"No, he is not worth it. Let him go to gaol with his friends," said Nancy, scornfully.

James Bowen looked utterly bewildered; he had evidently been drinking heavily and had not even heard of the surrender; had he done so he would hardly have come back to Trehowel, but would have made off into the interior. But Nancy's contempt roused him somewhat.

"It was your own fault," he said, sullenly, "you drove me away from here, you drove me to the bad."

"And I suppose I drove you to steal a horse and then to break out of gaol, and to run off to France, and to fetch back foreigners here-showing them the entrance to Carreg Gwastad Creek! I helped in that too, perhaps?"

"You needn't pretend to be so particular, you've taken up with a smuggler yourself," growled James.

Nancy's face flamed, but she took a step nearer to Davy and placed her hand in his defiantly.

"It is truth indeed, and I'm going to marry him too, for if he is a smuggler, he is an honest boy and isn't a traitor. I'd have thought nothing of the horse or the gaol-but to betray your own people to strangers-let me get out of the sight of you. 'Cursed for ever and throughout all ages be the traitor.'"

And with this vigorous denunciation of a crime so utterly hateful to the Welsh people, that they even abhor giving evidence in a court of justice, Nancy turned her back on the traitor at once and for ever, and hastily entering her domain at Trehowel, proceeded to restore the silver spoons to their own place.

The kindly dusk hid much of the damage that had been done; and after three days' absence, at the same hour as when she had quitted it, Nancy George was restored to the sovereignty of the kitchen at Trehowel.

And so ended in gladness of heart and rejoicing, Friday the 24th day of February, 1797; and so ended in pain and tribulation to themselves the three days' invasion of the French at Fishguard.

SEQUEL.

_THE GOLDEN PRISON AT PEMBROKE_.

CHAPTER XI.

THE GENERAL THANKSGIVING.

As I have already mentioned, some of the prisoners were sent to Haverfordwest Gaol-which, being situated in the old castle, was a commodious and roomy resort; others were placed, temporarily, in the churches of St. Mary, St. Thomas, and St. Martin: others again were sent to Carmarthen, under the escort of the Romney Fencible Cavalry, the officers being conveyed on horseback and allowed their parole; but the greater part of the French force finally found themselves confined in the Golden Prison at Pembroke. They were taken there and also to Milford by water; and not a few died on board the vessels, being closely shut up under deck. Finally, five hundred of them were safely landed and incarcerated in the Golden Prison, the state of which, with all this overcrowding, could hardly have been so delightful as its name might lead the imaginative to suppose.

Here we will leave them for awhile, returning once more to myself and my own belongings. My kind mother would not let me return at once to my master at St. David's, she looked upon me as "her miraculously preserved boy," and must keep me for a bit to gloat her eyes upon. My father, being a man who loved a quiet life, consented. And so I was still in Fishguard when the Royal Proclamation came down, which commanded us to set aside a day of general thanksgiving for our preservation from the dangers which threatened our beloved country. This command reached us about a fortnight after the danger had pa.s.sed, posts being rather slow in those days. Indeed, had we had to wait so long for more substantial help, we had been in parlous straights long since. However, "All's well that ends well"-and we had fared through, by the aid of Providence, our own exertions, and the brandy-laden wrecks.

So we all repaired to our several parish churches; my mother hanging proudly on my arm, and regarding me as one to be specially thanked for.

Indeed, I was not ill-pleased myself to perceive some nods of heads and pointings of fingers among the old crones and young maids as we pa.s.sed along. This feeling seemed also to actuate Davy Jones, who limped along arm in arm with Nancy; she, even then not a.s.suming the dependent position, but giving him her arm, as it were, in order to help him along.

She even explained to us that, it being her "Sunday out" she had come all the way from Trehowel for this purpose. I may own that I distrusted that limp of Davy's; it struck me he liked to play the maimed hero.

"Why, Davy," I remarked, very audibly. "I saw you at market on Friday, and you weren't limping a bit. Do you want to have the old women to look at you or Nancy-."

"To arm me?" said Davy, with a wink. "That's it, my boy. What's the old women to me? But Nancy-."

Here Nancy stopped the dialogue by dragging her admirer forward in a most hasty manner, with but slight regard for his wounded limb. The service proceeded as usual. The hymns occasionally tailed off into one voice which quivered and sank, dying out into silence; for as it was well known that the parson's daughter received a s.h.i.+lling from her sire for pitching up the tune again every time it died a natural death, no one liked to be so crooked as not to a.s.sist nature when the melody became weak and low.

Then the clear young voice came forth and we started afresh. I need hardly say there was no instrumental music.

We proceeded, then, in spite of the special occasion in much our usual manner, leaving most of the thanksgiving to parson and clerk, and lolling about at our ease thinking of nothing, when attention! we heard galloping hoofs along the street, which ran outside the church. At the gate, the horse was suddenly reined up on his haunches-a man flung himself off heavily, and quick feet came tearing up the path to the porch. In an instant every man, woman, and child in the church stood upright, ready for fight or flight.

The door burst open, and the express messenger rushed in, booted, spurred, and breathless.

"The French! the French!" was all that he could gasp. He was surrounded in an instant by eager questioners, his voice was drowned in a very Babel of noise.

Our worthy divine then a.s.sumed command of his congregation. He despatched the clerk to the vestry for a drop of brandy, and then standing square and upright in the pulpit he commanded the people to be quiet, and to allow the man to come unhindered into the pulpit, from where he would himself announce the news. These orders were obeyed, and John Jones having returned with the spirit, the parson administered it, and then desired the man to deliver his message.

It was briefly this; sundry large s.h.i.+ps of war, filled with French troops, were making their way up St. George's Channel straight for the port of Fishguard.

In an instant the cry rang through the church-"To arms! to arms!"

Then what a scene of confusion arose, fury, dismay, oaths and shrieks all mingled together, some women fainting, some in tears, the men roused and excited to the uttermost.

"Don't go, don't go, my son," sobbed my mother; but curiosity overcame prudence.

"I'm not going to fight, mother, never fear, but I must go and look on,"

was my answer.

"Oh Dio, not again, not again!" urged Nancy, thinking of the single combats.

"I'm not going to walk across the sea to tackle a frigate, I promise you," said Davy, with a laugh. But Nancy was not to be put off so.

"All right, come. I'm coming too," she said, and in another instant they were without the church door, where, indeed, we all found ourselves shortly. We tore down to the cliffs as the possessed swine might have raced; many of us ran to man the fort, but I remained on the higher ground where I could have a better view and see further out to sea.

And soon there was indeed a fair sight to see. Coming round the headland to the west of us, their sails filled with the brisk March breeze, appeared a stately squadron moving proudly under British colours; but having seen something like this before, some of us still doubted. The fort saluted, and this compliment was returned by the men-of-war without any changing of colours. We began to feel rea.s.sured, and soon our hopes were verified. A boat put off from the nearest s.h.i.+p and was rowed to sh.o.r.e in a style that swore to "British tar." The officer landed and explained that the squadron was part of the Channel Fleet, sent to our a.s.sistance, and that it was under the command of the brave Sir Edward Pellew. We were very proud of the help rendered us by England, even though it had come a little late, but that was the fault of our roads not their goodwill; and though it had occasioned a worse scare than the real thing, but that was only our disordered nerves which acted up to the old proverb-"A burnt child dreads fire."

The officer inquired very particularly as to the probable whereabouts of the French s.h.i.+ps-the three frigates and the lugger. About this we could give him no information whatever. All we could say was, that the French left their anchorage at Carreg Gwastad on Thursday, the 23rd of February, at noon, and took a course directly across the channel towards the coast of Ireland. Our little sloops did not care to venture too near since one of them, the _Britannia_, had been taken by the enemy, the cargo appropriated, and the sloop scuttled and sunk. They were, on the whole, persons to whom it was pleasanter to give a wide berth.