to be filled, and they lay on the beach. Sir Eyre Coote had detached a corps of grenadiers and light infantry, who entered Pondicherry, which was open on the land side, since the fortifications had been demolished; they found and staved all the casks, destroying them entirely; and this induced Suffrein to run down to Point de Galle, to repair the loss, just at the moment when Capt. Wilson was passing in the offing. As Suffrein's ships sailed so much better than his, they were off Cuddalore in the morning, and Captain Wilson arrived in the afternoon; thus providentially escaping, and bringing in the whole of the cargoes entrusted to his care, and so much wanted by the army. They had then been reduced to their last forty five bags of paddy, and not a grain of rice to be procured. This supply rescued them from impending famine, or the necessity of cutting their way through the enemy; and under God, was the means, as all acknowledged, of the preservation of the army and of the Carnatic. Captain Wilson had some stores of his own, which were greedily seized and devoured as soon as landed. The next day he was invited to dine with the General and his staff, was placed at Sir Eyre Coote's right hand, and received the most cordial acknowledgments for his services. He informed the company of the seizure of his stores; they bid him prepare an account of them, and gave him a pagoda for every bottle of wine, and for the rest in proportion, so that this successful trip produced him about a thousand pounds, and a testimony of Sir Eyre Coote's high satisfaction in the services which he had performed.

Returning to Bengal, he continued to be employed in carrying down supplies: but as these voyages include nothing interesting, I shall only note his unfortunate capture by the French, when he was going with a very valuable cargo of military stores for Sir Edward Hughes, whose ammunition had been

exhausted in the well known conflict with Suffrein. He was carried into Cuddalore, which had been taken by the French, and there he found the crew of the Hannibal in the same captivity. He was permitted, with other officers, to be at large on his parole, and hoped shortly to be exchanged.

Hyder had at that time overrun and wasted great part of the Carnatic; and in conjunction with the French, after taking Cuddalore, hoped to expel the English from all that territory. He had lately defeated Colonel Baily's detachment, and made them prisoners, and used every effort to get as many of the English as possible into his power, in order either to tempt them into his service, or to gratify his brutality by exposing them to a lingering death. He had bribed Suffrein with three hundred thousand rupees, to surrender up to him all his prisoners at Cuddalore; and the order being communicated to the commander of the fort, nothing could exceed the indignation and grief which he and his officers testified at such an infamous bargain. However as he dared not disobey the orders of his superior, he informed the gentlemen on parole of the transaction, and his necessity of delivering them up the next day, to the escort appointed to carry them to Seringapatam.

Captain Wilson no sooner received the intelligence, than he determined that very night, if possible, to attempt his escape from a captivity which appeared to him worse than death. He had observed, as he walked the ramparts, the possibility of dropping down into the river; and though he neither knew the height of the wall, nor the width of the rivers which were to be crossed, before he could reach a neutral settlement, he determined to seize the moment of delay and risk the consequences, whatever danger or difficulty might be in the way.

He communicated his resolution to a brother officer and a Bengalese boy, his servant, who both resolved

to accompany him in his flight. It was concerted between them to meet on the ramparts, just before the guard was set, as it grew dark, and silently drop down from the battlement. Before the hour appointed, his companion's heart failed him. About seven o'clock, he with his boy Toby, softly ascended the rampart unperceived, and the Captain leaping down, uncertain of the depth, pitched on his feet; but the shock of so great a descent, about forty feet, made his chin strike against his knees, and tumbled him headlong into the river, which ran at the foot of the wall, and he dreaded lest the noise of the dash into the water would discover him. He recovered himself, however, as soon as possible, and returning to the foot of the wall, where there was a dry bank, bid the boy drop down and caught him safe in his

arms.

All that part of the Tanjore country is low and intersected with a number of rivers, branching off from the great Coleroon: these must all be necessarily crossed. He inquired, therefore, of the boy if he could swim; but found he could not. This was very embarrassing, but he resolved not to leave him behind, and therefore took him on his back, being an excellent swimmer, and carried him over. They pushed towards Porto Nuovo, about four leagues and a half from Cuddalore. They had passed three arms of the river, and advanced at as great a pace as they possibly could, to make use of the night, since their hope of safety depended chiefly on the distance they could reach before the morning light. Not far from Porto Nuovo, a seapoy centry challenged, Who goes there? on which they shrunk back and concealed themselves, turning down to the river side. The river in that place was very wide, and being near the sea, the tide ran in with great rapidity. He took, however, the boy on his back, as he had done before, and bid him be sure to hold only by his

hands and cast his legs behind him; but when they came into the breakers, the boy was frightened, and clung around the Captain with his legs so fast as almost to sink him. With difficulty he struggled with the waves, and turning back to the shore, found they must inevitably perish together if they thus attempted to proceed. Therefore setting the boy safe on land, he bid him go back to Doctor Mein, who would take care of him, but the poor lad has never since been heard of, though the most diligent inquiries were made after him. As delay was death to him, he plunged again in the stream, and buffeting the waves, pushed for the opposite shore; but he found the tide running upwards so strong, that in spite of all his efforts, he was carried along with the current, and constrained at a considerable distance, to return to the same side of the river. Providentially, at the place where he landed, he discovered by the moonlight, dry on the beach, a canoe, which he inmediately seized, and was drawing down to the river, when two black men rushed upon him and demanded whither he was going with that boat. He Szed the outrigger of the canoe as his only weapon of defence against the paddles which they had secured, and told them he had lost his way; had urgent business to Tranquebar, and thither he must and would go; and launching with all his remaining strength, the canoe into the river; the good-natured Indians laid down their paddles on the shafts, and whilst he stood in the stern rowed him to the opposite shore. He returned them many thanks, having nothing else to give them, and leaping on the beach, immediately pushed forward with all his might. He found he had as great a distance to pass to the Coleroon as he had already travelled, and therefore Continued his course with full speed, the moon shining bright; and before break of day reached this largest arm of the river, of which those which he had

crossed were branches. Exhausted with the fatigue he had undergone, and dismayed with the width of this mighty stream, he stood for a moment hesitating on the brink; but the approach of morning, and the danger behind him being so urgent, he stretched out his arms to the flood, and pressed for the shore. How long he was in crossing he could not ascertain, for somewhat near the centre of the river, he came in contact with the mast of a ship, or a great tree floating with the stream, on this he reclined his hands and his head, in which perilous position, he thought he must have slept by the way, from some confused remembrance as of a person awaking from a state of insensibility, which he supposed had lasted half an hour at least. However, with the light of the morning he had reached the land and flattered himself that all his dangers were passed and his liber-. ty secured; when after passing a jungle which led to the sea-side, he ascended a sand-bank to look around him. There to his terror and surprise, he perceived a party of Hyder's horse scouring the coast, and being discovered by them they galloped up to him; in a moment seized him and stripped him naked, unable to fly or resist, and tying his hands behind his back, fastened a rope to them, and thus drove him before them to the head-quarters, several miles distant, under a burning sun, and covered with blisters. supposes he must have gone that night and day more than forty miles, beside all the rivers he had crossed. But to what efforts will not the hope of life and liberty prompt? what sufferings and dangers will not men brave to secure them? yet these were but the beginning of his sorrows.

He

The officer at the head-quarters was a Mahometan, one of Hyder's chieftains. He interrogated the poor prisoner sharply, who he was, whence he came, and whither going? Mr. Wilson gave him an ingenuous account of his escape from Cuddalore, and the rea