PRISON LIFE AT DARTMOOR.--REMINISCENCES OF
PRIVATEERING.--ACHIEVEMENTS OF THE ROSSIE, HIGHFLIER, GOVERNOR
TOMPKINS, AND OTHERS.--I AM SUMMONED TO THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE.
Hardly were the birds out of their nests or down from their roosts in
the morning, before we were roused and served with a scanty breakfast
of tea, mush, and bread, with a piece of meat that was anything but
tender or savory. Then we were drawn up in line, the officers I
mean, and offered the choice of giving our paroles not to escape and
marching under a light guard, or being placed under a strong guard and
handcuffed if we declined the paroles.
"I'll take my chances of getting away," said Haines, "and won't give
the beggars any promise."
I had the same impulse; but a brief reflection showed me that in irons
and strongly guarded, there would be practically no chance at all of
escaping. So I decided to give my parole; and before the time was up
for a decision Haines followed my example, as did the other officers.
No such choice was given to the men. They were handcuffed together two
and two, and the soldiers in charge of them carried loaded muskets with
fixed bayonets; and to make the men understand that the powder and
ball were ready for service, the guns were loaded in the presence of
the column of prisoners as it stood on parade. There were about twenty
officers and two hundred men comprising the prison convoy, and the
guards were certainly not fewer than sixty. The guards marched with the
prisoners, and there was a wagon following the convoy to pick up those
who gave out from illness or any other cause.
The squad of officers got away half an hour in advance of the others,
and as each man was under parole very little attention was paid to us
by the guards. A dozen times during the day's walk I could have got
away with the greatest ease; but, of course, I was hindered by the fact
that I had given my word of honor not to escape; and had I violated it,
and been re-captured, the punishment would have been--death.
It is a good day's walk from Plymouth to Princetown. The distance is
certainly not less than fifteen miles, and it may be twenty, and the
road is up-hill a good part of the way. Princetown is at the gates
of Dartmoor prison; in fact, it has grown up since the prison was
established, and is occupied almost entirely by people connected with
the place in some way. The families of officers and guards live there,
and so do the various contractors who supply food to the unfortunate
inmates of the walled inclosure.
We were tired and foot-sore when we got to the prison and entered
the fortress-like walls through a massive gateway. We were carefully
searched to make sure that we had no weapons concealed about us, and
any money found upon our persons was taken to the prison authorities
and placed to our credit on the keeper's books. It was deemed unwise to
allow money to remain in the hands of the prisoners, lest it might be
used in bribing the guards. The precaution was a good one, as I know
that if I had been in possession of money I should have tried to bribe
my way out of Dartmoor before I had been there twenty-four hours.
Dartmoor Prison was built specially for the confinement of prisoners
of war, of whom England had great numbers during her troubles with
France, growing out of the French Revolution and the career of Napoleon
Bonaparte. It was finished in 1806, and at one time contained no fewer
than eleven thousand French prisoners. It is about one thousand five
hundred feet above the level of the sea at Plymouth, and that is why
the road from Plymouth to Princetown is so much up-hill. An average of
one hundred feet to the mile or thereabouts is a pretty steep ascent.
The prison covers about thirty acres of ground, inclosed between double
walls. In the inclosure are quarters for the guards and officers, and
there are seven large prison houses for the captives. It was located in
the midst of a desolate moor, and at this distance from the sea-coast
in order to increase the difficulties of escape.
It is safe to say that every man who is brought here has a plan in his
mind by which he hopes to escape; and some men have perhaps a dozen
schemes they will try in succession as fast as one fails. It was so
in my case; but I soon made up my mind that the construction of the
prison, combined with the vigilance of the guards, would be likely to
baffle any attempts I should make. So I resigned myself to my fate, and
also to something else that I expected daily.
I had not forgotten the message left me by Captain Graham when he
sailed from New York. Before coming ashore from the Reindeer I wrote
a letter to the captain, telling him that Haines and I were prisoners
of war, briefly detailing the circumstances of our capture, and adding
that I knew nothing of our destination save that we were to be landed
at Plymouth. This letter I left with Captain Woods, who promised to
post it as soon as he went ashore.
Day after day passed and I received no reply to my letter, nor did
I hear from it in any way. A week, two weeks, three weeks, and the
situation was the same. I began to despair, not that I doubted the
fidelity of Captain Graham to his promise, but because I feared my
letter had gone astray and failed to reach its destination. I asked
for the privilege of writing another letter, but was told that such
indulgence was not permitted to the prisoners, except by permission of
some high official in London, whom it was impossible for me to reach.
It was against the rules for me to write a letter without the consent
of some one outside the prison, and I was not permitted to send to him
for that consent.
Time hung heavy on my hands. During the day we had the privileges
of the prison yard; at night we were locked up in our quarters, and
sentries, with loaded muskets, were at the doors to prevent our going
outside the building. We had only the floor to sleep upon, unless we
were ill enough to be sent to the hospital, where the beds consisted of
the rudest kind of cots, with bags of straw for mattresses. Our food
was barely enough to support life, and of the most common description.
For those in the hospital it was a little better; but even there it was
not such as would tempt the appetite.
Some of the prisoners had been there for several years, having been
sent to Dartmoor long before the breaking out of the war in 1812.
They were Americans who had been impressed into the British service,
and refused to serve against their country. They had undergone severe
punishment, some having been flogged repeatedly in the hope of
subduing them, and as a last resort they had been sent to Dartmoor for
incarceration.
Altogether, there were more than two thousand of this class of
prisoners, and some had been ten years in captivity; then there were
about four thousand who had been captured on naval vessels, privateers,
and merchantmen, during the war; so that the total of the American
population of the prison was little, if any, short of six thousand.
We had the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that there was a
considerable number of British subjects confined in American prisons;
but, after all, there was very little comfort to be derived from this
knowledge. We would have gladly consented to the liberation of every
Briton then in American hands, provided, of course, we could have
gained our freedom at the same time.
We whiled away the time by various games, by reading the few books that
were allowed to us, and by telling each other of our experiences. Some
of the stories were exciting in the extreme, and served to enlighten
many hours that otherwise would have been very dull. Let me give some
of them by way of samples.
One of my prison mates was Captain Percival, who had served with
Commodore Lewis in the gunboat Flotilla at New York during the year
1813. "One day," said he, "the commodore ordered me to go out and
capture the sloop Eagle, which was serving as tender to the British
man-of-war Poictiers, seventy-four guns, that was cruising in those
waters, and trying to blockade the port.
"I told the commodore that I would want a seventy-four gun ship at
least to do it with, unless I could get the Eagle away from her big
consort.
"He said that I could only have a little fishing-smack; and then I saw
what he was driving at. He explained his scheme, and I proceeded to
carry it out.
"I took the fishing-smack, and had thirty-five armed men concealed
in her hold; then I had a calf, a sheep, and four or five geese on
deck, and three men who were in fishermen's clothes. We stood out past
Sandy Hook as though we were going to the fishing-banks. The Eagle
gave chase, and we tried to escape; but she overhauled us easily, as
we knew she would. When we got alongside of the Eagle the captain saw
the live-stock we had on board, and ordered us to go to the Poictiers,
which was then several miles away to the eastward. I parleyed with the
captain till the smack touched the sides of the Eagle, and then one of
my men on deck gave the watchword, 'Lawrence!'
"Instantly the hatches were thrown off, and the men swarmed up from
below! As they came up they fired at every man they saw on the Eagle,
killing the captain and two others, and astonishing the rest of the
crew so that they ran below. Then I ordered the firing to cease; and
as soon as I had done so, one of the Eagle's crew came up and lowered
her colors. At the same time my men swarmed into the sloop; and in
five minutes we had her headed to New York, where we arrived with our
prisoners, and were received with great enthusiasm.
"This happened on the Fourth of July, so that our performance was
celebrated along with the Declaration of Independence. So sudden was
our onslaught upon the Eagle that she did not fire her heavy brass
howitzer, which had a double charge of canister-shot, all ready to
repel an attack of this sort. We drew the charge of shot, and fired the
howitzer after we got to New York, as a part of the celebration."
Another of my prison companions was Mr. Johnson, who was second mate of
the clipper-built schooner Rossie, that sailed from Baltimore about the
middle of July, in the first year of the war. She carried fourteen guns
and a hundred and twenty men, and was commanded by Commodore Barney.
He cruised along the eastern coast of the United States for forty-five
days without entering a port; and Johnson said there was hardly a day
without an adventure of some sort. The Rossie was either chasing or
being chased, capturing English ships, and informing all American ships
that she met of the outbreak of the war.
"One day," said Johnson, "we were chased by a British frigate that got
within range of us, so that she hurled twenty-five or thirty shot in
our direction. All of them fell short, but some only just a little. We
outsailed the frigate and got away. A few days afterward we were chased
by another frigate, and we outsailed her just as we did the first one.
"The next day we captured and burned the ship Princess Royal; and the
day following we captured the ship Kitty, put a prize-crew on board,
and sent her into port. On the second of August we captured and burned
two brigs and a schooner, and also captured a brig on which we put
sixty of our prisoners, and sent her as a cartel to St. John, New
Brunswick, to make exchange for American prisoners. Four vessels in one
day was pretty good work, wasn't it?"
We all agreed that it was.
"Well," continued Johnson, "we did just as well the day after that
when we captured and sunk the brig Henry, and the schooners Race-horse
and Halifax; captured and manned the brig William, and added forty
prisoners to the sixty we'd already put on board the cartel. Those
two were our best days. Altogether, during our cruise of forty-five
days, we seized and captured fourteen vessels. We destroyed nine, and
sent five into port; and the estimated value of our prizes was over a
million and a quarter dollars!"
[Illustration: "ARE YOU JOHN CRANE, CAPTAIN OF THE LATE PRIVATEER,
MARGUERITE?" Page 294.]
"We didn't go back to Baltimore," said Johnson, "but put into Newport
when the forty-five days were up. We stayed there about ten days,
refitting and recruiting our crew, and then started out again. Two
days out from Newport we were chased by three British men-of-war all
at once; but our sailing qualities came into play and we got away from
all of them. A day or two later we were chased by an English frigate
for six hours, but left her behind us at last. We captured a British
armed packet, the Princess Amelia, and had a very savage fight with
her for almost an hour at pistol-shot distance all the time. Mr. Long,
our first lieutenant, was severely wounded, and six of the crew were
injured, but not very badly. The Princess Amelia lost her captain,
sailing-master, and one sailor, killed, and the master's mate and six
seamen were wounded.
"Commodore Barney had just secured this prize and started her for port,
when we fell in, on the same day, with three ships and an armed brig.
The brig was convoying the ships; and we had a little brush with her,
in which she gave us an eighteen-pound shot through our quarter. We
stuck to those vessels for four days, in hopes of their separating
so that we could jump on one of them and capture it; but they hung
together, and we gave up the game. The next day we fell in with the
privateer Globe, and the two of us started off together to hunt for
the three ships, but couldn't find them. Then we separated, and within
a week after we did so the Rossie captured two fine prizes, sent them
into port, and followed them. Altogether, on those two cruises, we
captured thirty-seven hundred tons of shipping, valued at a million and
a half of dollars, and two hundred and seventeen prisoners.
"Another very successful privateer that went from Baltimore," continued
Johnson, "was the Highflyer, commanded by Captain Gavit. She was armed
with eight guns and carried about one hundred men. Her first prize
was a British schooner in ballast, but with eight thousand dollars in
specie.
"The Highflyer's next encounter was with a fleet of Jamaica merchantmen
convoyed by a British frigate. The frigate chased the Highflyer, but
was outsailed. The chase caused the convoy to be somewhat scattered.
Captain Gavit watched his chance, and cut out the Diana, one of the
fleet, which had a valuable cargo of rum, sugar, and coffee. Gavit took
out her crew and sent her as a prize to the United States.
"The next day the Highflyer fell in with and engaged two British
vessels at half gun-shot distance, one of them the Jamaica, seven
guns and twenty-one men, and the other the Mary Ann, twelve guns and
eighteen men. There was too much wind blowing to make it safe to
attempt boarding, and so the Highflyer hauled off and waited till the
wind moderated. The next day she jumped at them again, and, after a
sharp fight with cannon and musket, boarded the Jamaica and captured
her, and then went for the Mary Ann, which lowered her flag without any
further fighting. Both of them had rich cargoes, and were first-class
prizes. They were sent into port, where they arrived safely."
When Johnson paused in his story of the performance of the Highflyer,
Captain Percival said that one of the most successful privateers in the
early part of the war was the John, of Salem, which captured eleven
vessels in a cruise of three weeks; and another was the Paul Jones,
which captured in a month's time near the island of Porto Rico fourteen
vessels, some of them of considerable value. The best of all of them
was the British ship Hassan, fourteen guns and twenty men, sailing
from Gibraltar to Havana, with wines and dry goods, valued at two
hundred thousand pounds.
Mr. Johnson asked if any of us had ever known Captain Shaler, of the
schooner Governor Tompkins, of New York.
Two or three of us had met him, but none could claim acquaintance. I
remembered having been introduced to him one day, and he impressed me
as one of the most dashing, brave fellows that ever trod a ship's deck.
"The Tompkins was built especially for the business," said Johnson;
"she had fourteen carronades and one Long Tom, and carried a crew
of about one hundred and fifty men. One of Captain Shaler's first
experiences in the Tompkins was to find three British vessels together,
all looking like merchantmen. One was larger than the rest, and Shaler
supposed she was a transport until he got within a quarter of a mile of
her; then he found that she was a frigate that had been got up so as
to deceive the closest observer. He opened fire on her, and then her
ports flew open, and he received a response that nearly took his breath
away. His only hope was to get away, and he left the spot as rapidly as
he could. His schooner was a splendid sailer, and so he managed to get
out of his trouble. He got out all his sweeps, threw overboard all the
lumber on his decks and about two thousand pounds of shot, and in this
way managed to escape.
"The Tompkins lost two men killed and six wounded," continued the
narrator. "One of those killed was a black man, named Johnson. Captain
Shaler said, in his report to his owners, 'Johnson ought to be
registered on the book of fame, and remembered with reverence as long
as bravery is considered a virtue. A twenty-four pound shot struck him
in the hip, and took away all the lower part of his body. In this state
the poor, brave fellow lay on the deck, and several times exclaimed to
his shipmates, 'Fire away, boys; neber haul de color down!' Several
times he requested to be thrown overboard, saying he was only in the
way of the others. While America has such sailors she has little to
fear from the tyrants of the ocean.'"
One day, while I was listening to an account of the exploits of the
privateer Chasseur, which captured eighty vessels altogether, of which
thirty-two were of equal force to herself and eighteen superior, an
orderly came along and called out in a loud voice,--"John Crane is
wanted at Captain Shortland's office!"
Captain Shortland was the commandant of the prison. I made my toilet by
running my fingers through my hair, and then followed the orderly.