The Escape

McKay heard the familiar sound of Gabrielle and the guard talking, the jangling of keys and then the door swung open. In walked Gabrielle. If they hadn’t had discussed the plan before he would have thought nothing was different to any other day. She placed the tureen of soup and the basket of bread down on the floor. Then she continued to make idle chit chat as if nothing was going on. Gabrielle pulled out the dress, cap and wig from where they were hidden under the loaves of bread in the basket. She then proceeded to stand in front of the small-bared slit in the door so that the guards view would be obstructed. McKay then took the clothes from Gabrielle and put the dress on over his clothes, and put the blond wig on making sure his face was disguised. He picked up the soup tureen and the basket; Gabrielle then called for the guard to open the door she stepped back while McKay walked out of the door. McKay kept his head down as he walked past the guard letting the hair fall in front of his face so that his features were obscured. He hoped and prayed that the guard wouldn’t notice the deception.

McKay walked along briskly as was possible without his walk turning into a run. As he turned the corner McKay looked back briefly to check that the guard wasn’t looking and then legged it as fast as he could round the corner towards the main building. His heart was beating fast and adrenaline surged through his body. He felt both apprehensive and exhilarated by the danger he had placed himself in. McKay knew from what Gabrielle had told him that there was a weak point that he could reach a secondary less well guarded set of gates by going through the kitchens.

McKay found the heavy oak door that led into the main building. As he opened the door he heard shouts coming from where his cell was. McKay presumed they had discovered his little trick. He thought he had better dump the costume, as it would be more of a hindrance than help and it would certainly aid his identification. McKay went through the door and found himself in a long echoey corridor on each side there were doors. McKay chastised himself for not asking Gabrielle which door it he should take but he couldn’t go back and ask now. He decided that randomly opening doors would be his best option and this led to him finding out that most of the doors were actually storerooms. In one of the storerooms he dumped the dress and wig. After a couple of minutes of this search for the right door McKay began to wonder why he hadn’t been apprehended yet. Not a single guard had walked through the door in all the time he had been trying the doors.

Just when he thought he would never find it McKay discovered the door to the kitchen. From inside he could hear the prison chef singing, “Oh! Petit poison. Je empailler tu avec feuille. Tire dehors tu arête. Du poivre je penser!” McKay chuckled quietly to himself and felt that he would not like to be the fish that the chef was singing about right now. McKay tentively and slowly opened the thick oak kitchen door, careful not to make a sound. He carefully peered round the door noticing the French chef standing over the other side of the kitchen by a large table on which was a chopping board with a headless fish resting on it. The chef was cheerfully chucking the fish heads over his shoulder across the room and landing in the boiling pot. The fat greasy Frenchman sneezed over the fish then wiped his nose with his hand and then continued with his preparations McKay cringed. He thought to himself that Gabrielle must have taken after her mother.

When one of the heads landed on the floor McKay saw a rat run across the filthy floor, snatch it up and scarper off back to its home. The place reeked. McKay’s stomach turned at the sight and smell of the kitchen, but it was his only way out. McKay could see the door over the opposite side of the kitchen and decided his best bet was to sneak along the back wall using the large central table as cover. He tried to keep low as he crawled along the filthy floor but unfortunately he put his hand in some nasty substance and out of surprise McKay suddenly sat up. His head hit one of the pans that were balanced on the edge of the table; the pan came crashing onto the floor with an almighty crash, its contents spilling onto the floor. The sound attracted the attention of the large chef who turned round to see McKay preparing to run. For a second McKay found him self momentarily frozen to the spot like a startled animal.

 “Zout alors! An Englishman!” cried the portly chef grabbing hold of a meat cleaver and running towards McKay, but McKay felt he didn’t want to stay and find out what this Moustached Frenchman was going to do to him. He could see the door and tried to make a dash for the exit but the chef cut him off barring his escape. The chef then proceeded to pursue McKay round the kitchen.

All the time shouting, “Arreter! Vu pipsqueak and fight like a man!”

As he chased McKay all manner of dishes, pots and pans were sent flying. The chef was constantly swinging the meat cleaver around trying to hit McKay. When the chef aimed a blow with the cleaver McKay dodged it. The blade embedded itself in the kitchen work surface and, while the chef was occupied trying to pull the cleaver out of the table McKay made his getaway by darting through the door.

After he passed out of the door he found himself in a cobbled courtyard, and at the end of the courtyard was a stone archway. There were several piles of barrels each side of the archway. He felt a sense of triumph at evading the guards and the chef. McKay was dripping with sweat after all the exertion in the summer heat. The sun was beating down without sympathy for McKay’s predicament. He tentively approached the archway. Then suddenly a guard appeared from behind the barrels and pointed a musket at him. McKay thought that that was the end. That his escape had been foiled, but to his surprise the ‘guard’ shouted out, “It’s you, sir!”

“Don’t shoot,”

“Don’t worry, sir. It’s me Catt!”

“Mr Catt? What on earth are you doing dressed as a guard?”

“Same thing as you, sir, escaping! We better get a move on sir before those Frenchie’s find us!”

“I think you might be right there Mr Catt. By the way how did you-?”

“Escape, I pretended to have a fit. The guard walked in to see what was going on and I knocked him out, sir.”

“Good thinking Mr Catt,” whispered McKay as the crept through the archway towards the gate.

“I saw it in a play once.” Said Catt looking rather pleased to have received a complement, “There two guards at the gate, sir.”

“I can see that well enough Mr Catt. Talk about state the damn obvious.” Said McKay. The heat was making him tired and ratty.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Mr Catt you can take the guard on the right and I will take the one on the left.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t I take the guard on the left he looks smaller.”

“Mr Catt I gave you an order.”

“Aye, sir. Sorry sir. But cant I-,”

“No, no changes. Anyway you’re the one with the musket. You have an advantage, use it.”

“Oh! Aye, sir. Didn’t think of that, sir.”

“Precisely. That’s why I'm a lieutenant and you’re a midshipman.” Replied McKay getting rather annoyed by this trivial conversation.

When they got to the other side of the archway hidden in the shadows, they surveyed the area. McKay didn’t know how they were going to approach the guards without being seen. It was at this moment Catt grabbed McKay’s arm pulled him up and pushed him towards the guards. He was shocked by Catt’s behaviour. Catt pointed the musket at McKay. It hurt when Catt shoved the muzzle into McKay’s back. He was even more startled when Catt proceeded to speak in French to the guards. Mr Catt’s deception for a moment even fooled McKay.

“Stop! Who goes there?” shouted one of the guards in French pointing his musket in McKay’s direction.

“I have caught the prisoner trying to escape!” replied Catt in French. The guard motioned to his colleague who approached them. Once the guard was near enough McKay grabbed the guard’s musket and tried to wrestle it from him. In the confusion the musket went off, which McKay feared would draw attention to their escape attempt. Meanwhile Catt raised his musket and fired at the other guard before he had had a chance to react. The guard went down. The midshipman then hit the guard that McKay was trying to get the musket off round the back of the head with the butt of the musket. The guard fell unconscious onto the cobbled floor.

“Thanks. You saved my life there.”

“No problem. I was only doing my duty sir.”

McKay ran over to the doors that were set into the wall. It was the only thing between them and freedom.

“Quick! help me get the door open! The shots will have alerted the frog’s to our whereabouts!” said McKay in an urgent tone.

“You’d better take the guards musket and sword we might need them later.”

McKay noticed that Catt had forgotten the customary sir, and had taken to giving his superior orders but in the current situation he was not about to spend precious time reprimanding Catt. Especially after Catt had just saved his life.

McKay used his belt to hold the sword, slung the musket over his shoulder, and remembered to pick up the ammunition. Then he and Catt each took an end of the heavy wooded beam that was barring the door and lifted it out of the metal strips that held it in place. They laid the beam hastily onto the floor and dragged one of the thick wood doors open.

“Which way do we go now, sir?”

“We go into the woods that border the track and follow it down to the village.”

“What village, sir?”

“A fishing village I have been told sits by the coast not far from here.” Said McKay quickly making a dash down the track and into the woods. Catt followed close behind.

“We had better get as far away as possible. The guards will find out our escape route quick enough,” and as if to confirm McKay’s statement there were shouts and the sound of marching from a little way behind.

McKay broke into a run. They scurried through the woods swerving in an out of the trees trying to avoid obstacles. He ran until his legs ached and he was so out of breath he had to stop.

McKay stopped and lent against one of the trees. He felt like his lungs were going to collapse from the effort. Catt caught up with McKay moments later and he too was out of breath.

McKay looked around trying to get his bearings. If he was correct then they had five more miles to go, but he was already exhausted from the exertion of running from the prison to this point.

“Are you alright, Catt?”

“Yes. Just a little out of breath, sir.”

“We can’t stay here for long. We had better keep moving.”

McKay dragged his feet as he trudged on. He felt like his legs were getting heavier. Every step was more and more difficult. The hot stuffy air was suffocating; it was a strain to breath in. McKay was sweating like mad his hair and face were damp. It felt like he was walking through a furnace. He looked back at Mr Catt; the midshipman wasn’t doing much better than McKay. The heat restricted both their progress.

Suddenly they came across a clearing. In the clearing stood a small cottage and attached to the cottage was a set of stables. McKay motioned to Catt to come over but keep quiet, “Catt, we might be able to obtain some transport.”

He pointed to the stables.

“But what if the stables are empty, sir?”

“Then maybe we can use them as shelter while we rest.”