August von Kotzebue - "The Stranger"

Bret Harte - "East and West"

Mary Hallock Foote - "The Desert and The Sown"

Daniel G. Brinton - "The Annals of the Cakchiquels"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Under Wellington\'s Command

G >> G. A. Henty >> Under Wellington\'s Command




"What do you mean by saluting a prisoner," a French staff officer,
when he was passing, angrily asked an old soldier. "You have been
long enough in the service, surely, to know that prisoners are not
saluted."

The soldier stood at attention.

"Monsieur le Capitaine," he said, "I am not saluting a prisoner. I
am saluting a brave officer, whose orders I have obeyed in a hard
fight, and to whom I and my comrades probably owed our lives. A
mark of respect is due to a brave man, whether a prisoner of war or
not."

The officer passed on without answering and, arriving at
headquarters, reported the circumstances to the general.

"I am not surprised, Captain Espel," the latter replied, with a
slight smile. "A French soldier knows how to respect bravery, and
in this case there is little doubt that, but for the assistance of
their prisoners, it would have gone very hard with that detachment.
That young officer who, strangely enough, is a colonel, was a
prisoner when he fought side by side with these men; and it is but
natural that they scarcely regard him as one, now. He has refused
to give his parole, and I am afraid he means to try to make his
escape. I am sorry for, should he do so, he is sure to be captured
again."

The third one of the 72nd men, the one with a forage cap, chanced
to be posted at the point of the wall that was not overlooked and,
after he had repeated the formula agreed upon, Terence said to him:

"You are one of those lads who sent me a message that you would
assist me, if you could."

"That is so, mon Colonel. You assisted us when we were somewhat
hotly pressed, and tis but good comradeship to repay such a
service, if one can. We have been thinking it over and, although it
would not be difficult for you to escape from here, we do not see
how you are to be got out of the town."

"That is the difficulty I see myself," Terence replied. "We could
not hope to pass through the circle of fortifications and, were we
to take a boat and make off, we should be pursued and recaptured,
to a certainty; for of course, as soon as our escape was known,
there would be a hot search made for us.

"There are two things needed. The first is disguises. The second is
a shelter, until the search for us slackens, after which it would
be comparatively easy for us to make off."

"What sort of disguises would you want, monsieur?"

"If we go by land, peasant dresses; if by water, those of
fishermen. We have money, which I can give you to purchase these."

"That we could do for you, monsieur, but the hiding place is more
difficult. However, that we will see about. I am a native here, and
have of course many friends and acquaintances in the town. When we
have made our plans I will let you know. I will manage that, when
it is my turn for duty, I will always be posted here; and then I
can tell you what is arranged, and give you whatever is necessary
to aid you to make your escape. My cousin, Jean Monier, will shut
his eyes; but he will not do anything himself, and I think that he
is right, for of course he will be the first to be suspected.

"As for us, it will be no matter. Everyone knows how you stood by
us, and they will guess that some of us have had a hand in it; but
they will never find out which of us was chiefly concerned. I
expect that soon we shall all be taken off this prison duty, for
which we shall not be sorry, and sent back to Spain with the first
detachment that comes along; but after all, one is not so badly off
in Spain, and certainly Madrid is a good deal more lively than
Bayonne."

"I suppose," Terence said, nodding towards their guard, who was
standing a few paces away gazing over the country, "he knows
nothing about this."

"No, monsieur, we have kept it to just the men of our own regiment;
but all feel the same about your being kept a prisoner, and there
is no fear of his telling anyone that you spoke to one man more
than another, when it is found out that you have escaped. Still, it
might be as well that you should not speak to me again, until I
tell you that it is a fine morning; for although all our own men
can be trusted, if any of the regular prison warders was to notice
anything he would not be slow in mentioning it, in hope of getting
promotion."

Accordingly Terence made a point of only passing along that part of
the wall once a day, and merely saying a word to the soldier, as he
did to others, on the occasions when he was on duty.

Ten days later the man replied to his salutation by remarking that
it was a "fair day." It happened that the man told off to guard
them on this occasion was another of the 72nd; there was therefore
nothing to be feared from him.

"I have arranged the matter, monsieur," the soldier said. "My
sister's husband, Jules Varlin, will shelter you. He is a
fisherman, and you can be safely hidden in the loft where he keeps
his nets and gear. He is an honest fellow, and my sister has talked
him over into lending his aid so far and, although he has not
promised it yet, I think we shall get him to go down the river with
you, so as to reply if you are challenged. You can put him ashore a
mile or two along the coast.

"Now as to the escape, monsieur. Here is a sharp saw. With it you
can cut round the lock of your door. There are two outside bolts,
whose position I dare say you have noticed; by cutting a hole close
to each of them, you can get your hand through and draw them. Here
is a short-handled augur, to make a hole for the saw to go through.

"There are four sentries at night, in the courtyard. We shall
manage to get all our men on duty, tomorrow evening. Our sergeant
is a good fellow and, if he guesses anything, will hold his tongue;
for I have heard him say, more than once, that it is monstrous that
you should be kept a prisoner.

"Therefore you need not be afraid of them. They will take care to
keep their eyes shut. I shall be on sentry duty here, and will get
the disguises up, and a rope. When you have got down I shall let
the rope drop, and you will carry it off and take it away with you;
thus there will be no evidence where you descended.

"Here are two sharp files, with which you can cut through the bars
of your window, and remove some of them; then it will not be known
whether you escaped that way, or down the stairs; and the men on
sentry in the courtyard at the bottom cannot be blamed because, for
aught the governor will know, you may have gone out through this
window into the other courtyard, and got over the wall on that
side; so they would have no proof as to which set of men were
negligent.

"No doubt we shall all be talked to, and perhaps kept in the
guardroom a few days, but that won't hurt us; and soldiers are
scarce enough, so they will hardly keep ten or twelve men long from
duty. There are not enough in the town, now, to furnish all the
guards properly; so you need not worry about us.

"I will give you instructions how to find my sister's house,
tomorrow night. You must not escape until you hear the bell strike
midnight. Our party will relieve guard at that hour. You see, we
have four hours on duty and, as you may have gone either on the
first watch, the second, or the third, they will not be able to
pitch on us more than on the others; so that, in fact, the blame
will be divided between forty of us. You will, of course, put on
your disguises over your uniforms, and destroy your clothes, when
you get to Jules' house."

"I thank you very warmly, my good fellow, for running all this risk
for me. Here are two hundred francs to pay for the disguises."

"That will be more than enough," the soldier said. "Jules put it
down at a hundred and fifty."

"Things may cost more than he expects. At any rate, please hand
these to him. I can arrange matters with him when I see him.

"Then at about a quarter past twelve we will sally out. We will
walk on now, lest any of the warders should happen to notice that
we have been a long time on this part of the wall."

Ryan had understood but little of what was happening and, when
Terence told him what had been arranged, he exclaimed:

"Well, after this, Terence, I will never say a word against a
Frenchman. Here are these soldiers going to run a lot of risk, and
a certainty of getting into a row for us, merely because we did the
best we could against those wretched Spaniards; and without getting
any reward whatever, for they must know that prisoners are not
likely to have any money to spare about them."

"Quite so, Ryan; and what is more, if I had a hundred pounds in my
pocket, I would not offer them a penny; for certainly they would
take it as an insult if I did so. They would feel that it would be
a sort of bribe and, though they are ready to help us as comrades,
I am sure they would not do it for money. I sincerely hope they
won't get into any serious row. As he said, authorities won't be
able to tell which party was on guard at the time we went, and they
could hardly put the whole of them under arrest--at least, not keep
them under arrest. No doubt there will be a close search in the
town for us, but there is little fear of our being discovered.

"Our dangers won't begin until we are fairly afloat. I know nothing
about sailing. I have rowed a boat many a time, at Athlone; but as
for sailing, I have never once tried it."

"Nor have I," Ryan said. "But I suppose there is no difficulty
about it. You put up the sail, and you take hold of the rope at the
corner, and off you go."

"It sounds all right, Dicky, and I dare say we shall manage to get
along, somehow; but these things are not half as easy as they look.
Now we had better have four or five hours' sleep this afternoon,
for I expect it will take us the best part of the night to file
through the bars. You must not cut quite through them, but just
leave them so that we can finish them off in a short time, tomorrow
night."

"But the warder might notice them?"

"He is not likely to look very sharply, Dicky; but at the same
time, it is just as well not to put too great a strain on his
loyalty. We will keep a piece of bread over from our supper, work
it up into a sort of paste, fill up any cuts we make, and rub it
over with dirt till it well matches the bars. Certainly they have
planned the affair capitally, so as to throw doubt as to which way
we descended, and so divide the blame between as many of the
sentries as possible."

It took four hours' work, that night, to get through the bars. They
were most careful not to let any of the filings fall outside for,
had any of them dropped into the courtyard below, they might well
catch the eye of a warder; and in that case an examination of all
the windows of the rooms above would certainly be made, at once.
Before the warder's visit the next morning, the holes had been
filled up with bread worked into a putty and smeared over with
dust; which so nearly matched the bars that it could not be
observed, except by a careful examination.

The next day they abstained from saying more than a passing word to
any of the French soldiers. They waited, after being locked up for
the night, for two or three hours; and then began their work at the
door. The saw was a very narrow one and, when they had made a hole
with the augur, they found no difficulty in cutting the wood;
therefore they thought it was well to leave that for the last
thing, and so betook themselves to their files, and soon removed
enough of the bars to enable a man to crawl through. Then they
returned to the door, and had cut round the lock, and made holes
through which they could pass their hands to draw back the bolts, a
short time before the clock struck twelve.

Then they went to the window, and listened. They heard the bells
strike midnight, and then a stir below, as the sentries were
relieved. Waiting for a few minutes, until all had become quiet
again, they drew back the bolts, took off their shoes, and went
noiselessly down the stairs.

The night was very dark and, although they could hear the tread of
the sentries in the courtyard, they could not make out their
figures. They crossed the yard, keeping as far as possible from the
sentries. They had no doubt that all would happen as arranged; but
there was, of course, the possibility that at the last moment some
change might have been made; and it was, in any case, as well that
the men there should be able to declare, honestly, that they had
seen no one.

[Illustration: Stooping so that their figures should not show
against the sky.]

They were glad when they reached the archway leading to the stairs
that led to the top of the wall. Mounting, they kept along by the
parapet, stooping so that their figures should not show against the
sky for, dark as it was below, they might have been noticed had
they not done so. Presently they saw the sentry.

"Diable, messieurs!" he said in a low tone, as they came up to him,
"you gave me a start. I was expecting you, but I did not hear your
footsteps nor see you and, had you been enemies, you might very
well have seized and disarmed me before I could give the alarm.

"Well, here are your clothes."

They soon pulled the blue canvas leggings over their breeches, and
over these the high boots, in which their feet felt lost. A rough
blouse and a fisherman's oilskin cap completed the disguise. They
put their boots into the capacious pockets in the blouses, and were
then ready to descend. They had left their shakos in their cell
when they started.

While they had been putting on their clothes, the sentry had
fastened the rope and lowered it down.

"We are ready now, Jacques," Terence said. "Goodbye, my good
friend. We shall never forget the kindness that you have shown us,
and shall remember with gratitude, all our lives, how a party of
French soldiers were ready to show themselves good comrades to men
who had fought by their sides, even though the two nations were at
war with each other. We shall always feel a kindness towards the
French uniform, in future; and if you or any of your comrades of
the 72nd should chance to fall into British hands, and you can send
word to me or to Mr. Ryan, I can promise you that we will do all we
can to have you released at once and sent back, or to aid you in
any other way."

"We have done but our duty to brave comrades," the soldier said.

"Now, as to where to find my cousin. You will go down that street
below, and take the third turning on the right. That will lead you
down to the wharves. Keep along by the houses facing them until you
come to the fourth turning. It is a narrow lane, and there is a
cabaret at each corner of it. My cousin's house is the twelfth on
the left-hand side. He will be standing at the door. You will say
to him as you pass, It is a dark night,' and he will then let you
in.

"Don't walk as if you were in a hurry: fishermen never do that. It
is not likely that you will meet anyone, but if you do, and he sees
two fishermen hurrying, it will strike him as singular; and when
there came news of two prisoners having escaped, he might mention
the matter, which might lead to a search in the right quarter."

"Will you go first, Ryan, or shall I?" Terence said.

"Just as you like."

"Well, then, you may as well go, as then I can talk with this good
fellow till it is my turn."

Ryan shook the soldier's hand heartily, took hold of the rope,
slung himself over the parapet, and began the descent. Terence and
the soldier leaned over, and watched him until they could no longer
make out the figure with certainty. As soon as the tension on the
rope slackened, Terence grasped Jacques' hand, said a few more
words of thanks, and then followed his companion. As soon as he
reached the ground he shook the rope and, a minute later, it fell
on the ground beside him.

He coiled it up, and then they started down the street. Following
the instructions that they had received, in ten minutes they
reached the end of the lane.

"We were to throw away the rope, were we not?" Ryan said.

"Yes, but now we are here, there can be no use in our doing so. If
a length of rope were found lying in the road, people would wonder
who had thrown it away; besides, it is a good stout piece of new
rope, and may be of use to the fisherman."

Counting the doors carefully as they went along, they came to the
twelfth where, before they reached it, the red glow from a pipe
showed that a man was standing outside.

"It is a dark night, mate," Terence said in a low tone, as he came
up to him.

"That is right," the man replied; "come in."

He stood aside as they entered, closed the door behind them, and
then lifted a piece of old canvas thrown over a lighted lantern.



Chapter 6: Afloat.


Jules Varlin held the lantern above his head, and took a good look
at his visitors.

"You will pass very well for young fishermen, messieurs," he said,
"when you have dirtied your faces and hands a bit, and rubbed your
hair the wrong way, all over your head. Well, come in here. My wife
is waiting up to welcome you. It is her doing that you are here. I
should not have agreed, but what can one do when a woman once sets
her mind upon a thing?"

He opened a door. A woman rose from her seat. She was some years
younger than her husband.

"Welcome, messieurs," she said. "We are pleased, indeed, to be able
to return the kindness you showed to my brother."

The fisherman grunted.

"No, Jules," she said, "I won't have you say that you haven't gone
willingly into this. You pretended not to, but I know very well
that it was only because you like to be coaxed, and that you would
have done it for Jacques' sake."

"Jacques is a good fellow," her husband replied, "and I say nothing
against him; but I don't know that I should have consented, if it
had not been for you and your bothering me."

"Don't you believe him, monsieur. Jules has a good heart, though he
likes pretending that he is a bear.

"Now, monsieur, I have some coffee ready for you."

"I need not say, madam," Terence said, "how truly thankful we both
are for your and your husband's kindness, shown to us strangers;
and I sincerely hope that you will have no cause to regret it. You
may be sure of one thing: that if we are recaptured, we shall never
say how our escape was effected, nor where we were sheltered
afterwards; and if, after the war is over, we can find an
opportunity of showing how grateful we are for your kindness, we
shall not miss the chance."

"We are but paying the service you rendered to Jacques, monsieur.
He tells me that, if it had not been for the aid the British
prisoners gave them, that probably those Spanish bandits would have
captured the church during the night; and we know that they never
show mercy to prisoners."

The coffee was placed on the table and, after drinking it, the
fisherman led them to a low shed in the yard.

"We could have done better for you," he said apologetically, "but
it is likely that they may begin a search for you, early in the
morning. This yard can be seen from many houses round about, so
that, were you to sleep upstairs, you might be noticed entering
here in the morning; and it is better to run no risks. We have
piled the nets on the top of other things. You will find two
blankets for covering yourselves there. In the morning I will come
in and shift things, so as to hide you up snugly."

"We shall do just as well on the nets as if we were in bed,"
Terence laughed. "We are pretty well accustomed to sleep on the
hard ground."

"I think we are going to have some bad weather," the man remarked,
as they settled themselves on the nets. "I hope it will be so, for
then none of the boats will put out; and there will be no comments
on my staying at home, instead of going out as usual.

"And now, good night, and good sleep to you!"

"He is an honest-looking fellow," Terence said, when he had gone
out, "and I have no doubt what his wife says of him is true; but it
is not surprising that he held back at first. It is not everyone
that is prepared to run the risk of heavy punishment for the sake
of his wife's relations.

"This is not by any means bad; these nets make a very comfortable
bed."

The next morning, at daybreak, the fisherman came in with a can
containing hot coffee, two great slices of bread, and tin cups.

"Now, messieurs, when you have drank that I will stow you away. We
shifted most of the things yesterday, so as to make as comfortable
a bed for you as may be."

The nets were pulled off; and a mass of sails, ropes, and other
gear appeared underneath. One of the sails in the corner was pulled
away, and showed a vacant space, some six feet long and four feet
wide, extending down to the ground, which was covered by old nets.

"Now, messieurs, if you will get down there, I shall pile a couple
of sacks over and throw the nets on the top, and there is no fear
of your being disturbed. I will bring your meals in to you, and let
you know what is doing in the town; but I shall not come in oftener
than I can help. I shall leave the doors open, as usual."

They took their places in the hole, and the fisherman piled sails
and nets over the opening. There was no occasion to leave any
apertures for air, for the shed was roughly built, and there were
plenty of openings between the planks of which it was constructed.
They had, before he came in, divested themselves of their uniforms;
and these the fisherman put into a kit bag and carried indoors;
where his wife at once proceeded to cut them up, and thrust the
pieces into the fire.

"It is a pity," she said regretfully, "but it would never do to
leave them about. Think what a waistcoat I could have made for you,
Jules, out of this scarlet cloth. With the gold buttons it would
have been superb, and it would have been the envy of the quarter;
but it would never do."

"I should think not, Marie. Burn the clothes up, and give me the
buttons and gold lace. I will put them in a bag with some stones,
and drop them into the river. The sooner we get rid of them, the
better."

As soon as the things were put into a bag, he went out with with
them. The wind was blowing strongly and, as he had predicted the
night before, the clouds were flying fast, and there were many
signs of dirty weather. He returned a couple of hours later.

"There is quite an excitement in the town, Marie," he said.
"Everyone is talking about it. Two rascally English prisoners have
escaped, and the soldiers say that they must be somewhere in the
town, for that they could never have passed through the lines. Some
gendarmes have been along the quays, inquiring if a boat has been
missed during the night; but they all seem to be safe. Written
notices have been stuck up warning everyone, on pain of the
severest punishment, not to give shelter to two young men, in
whatever guise they may present themselves. The gendarmes say that
the military authorities are convinced that they must have received
assistance from without."

For the next three days, indeed, an active search was kept up.
Every house was visited by the gendarmes but, as there was no
reason for suspecting one person more than another, there was no
absolute search made of the houses; which indeed, in so large a
town as Bayonne, would have been almost impossible to carry out
effectually.

The fisherman reported each day what was going on.

"The soldiers are giving it up," he said, at the end of the third
day. "I saw Jacques today for the first time. He tells me there was
a tremendous row when your escape was discovered. The warder, and
every soldier who had been on duty that night, were arrested and
questioned. The warder was the one first suspected, on the ground
that you must have had assistance from without. He said that if you
had, he knew nothing about it; and that, as you knew all the
soldiers of the prison guard, and as he had heard many of them say
it was very hard, after fighting as you did on their behalf, that
you should be kept prisoner, any of them might have furnished you
with tools for cutting the door and filing the bars. This was so
clear that he was released at once. The soldiers were kept for two
days under arrest. This morning the governor himself came down to
the prison, and the men under arrest were drawn up. He spoke to
them very sharply, to begin with.

"'One or more of you is assuredly concerned in this matter. A
breach of trust of this kind is punishable with death.'

"Then he stopped, and looked fiercely up and down the line, and
went on in a different tone:

"'At the same time, I admit that some allowance is to be made for
the crime, and I can understand that as soldiers you felt sympathy
with soldiers who, although prisoners at the time, did not hesitate
to cast in their lot with you, and to fight side by side with you.
Still, a soldier should never allow private sentiments to interfere
with his duty. I myself should have been glad, when you arrived
here and I heard of what had happened, to have been able to place
these British officers and soldiers in a ship, and to have sent
them back to their own country; but that would have been a breach
of my duty, and I was forced to detain them here as prisoners. Of
course, if I could find out which among you have been concerned in
this affair, it would be my duty to punish them--for there must
have been more than one--severely. However, although I have done my
best to discover this, I am not sorry, men, that I have been unable
to do so; for although these men may have failed in their duties as
soldiers, they have shown themselves true-hearted fellows to run
that risk--not, I am sure, from any thought of reward, but to help
those who had helped them.

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