along with a stretcher, having a
doctor with them. When he saw that my eyes were open, and that I
was alive, he examined my wound and shook his head.

"'He is badly hit,' he said, 'but you may as well carry him in.'

"So they took me into Oudenarde, which had been turned into a big
hospital.

"'You are not to speak,' the doctor said to me, before they lifted
me up. 'You must keep yourself perfectly quiet.'

"When they got me into the hospital, they found a hole behind as
well as in front, which I heard one of the doctors say was a good
thing. They dressed the wounds and left me. I could see by their
faces, the next time they came, that they were surprised to see me
alive. One of them said to the other:

"'The bullet must have passed through him without touching any
vital point. He may do yet.'

"He bent down, and asked me in French what my name was, and I said
'Victor Dubosc, lieutenant;' so they stuck a card with my name
over my bed, and asked me no more questions. I lay there for six
weeks, and then I was well enough to get up and walk about.

"Three weeks later, I went down with some other convalescents to
Ostend, and there we were embarked, and taken to Portsmouth. Then
we were put in boats and rowed to Porchester, which is a place at
the end of a sort of lake behind Portsmouth. There was an old
castle there, with a mighty high wall, enclosing a lot of ground,
where there were huts--rows of them--all filled with our
prisoners. Some of the huts were a little better than others, and
these were for the use of officers. A regiment of soldiers was in
tents outside the walls, and a hundred men were always on guard
with loaded muskets.

"I said to myself, often and often, 'If Kennedy were here, he
would soon hit upon some plan for getting away;' but for the life
of me, I could not see how it was to be managed. It was a dull
time, I can tell you. The food was bad, and the cooking was worse.
Only a few officers were there, most of them being sent to some
place a long distance inland; but, as we were all wounded, I
suppose they thought that the loss of blood would keep us quiet.

"One of the officers, having a little money hidden about him,
bought a pack of cards from an English soldier, and we passed most
of our time playing; but it was poor work, for we had nothing to
play for. At last, I said to myself, 'Patrick O'Neil, there must
be an end of this or your brain will go altogether. It is not
worth much at the