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Hyder Ali Cawn, and his son Tippoo Saib, have long been distinguished,
and not less detested, throughout every part of the civilized world, for
the cruelties which they practised on their prisoners of war, during
their dominion in India. Of their unexampled barbarities, many accounts
have been published in England; and the enormities which these
narratives record would have staggered credulity itself, had not the few
mutilated wretches who have escaped their tyranny, furnished evidence by
their appearance, that a faithful detail of facts could leave but little
room for exaggeration.
In addition to those tales of horror which have been submitted to the
public eye, there are others, equally affecting, on which no written
register has ever conferred its honours. These, while the unhappy
victims whose sufferings they record were alive, obtained for a season a
local circulation; but no sooner had they found a refuge in the grave,
than these tales began to fade in the recollection of tradition, and
gradually to retire into oblivion, where they also have found repose. To
some few a more protracted existence has been allotted. One of these has
just fallen into the publisher’s hands; and he conceives he shall
promote the cause of humanity by giving publicity to the unvarnished
narrative. It was written by JAMES SCURRY, lately deceased, who actually
endured the cruelties which he describes.
In some prefatory papers connected with the history of his sufferings,
Mr. SCURRY observes, that the following account was partly written
during his passage from India to this country, and partly after his
return to the arms of an affectionate mother, who had long thought him
dead. He also states, that his narrative might be considerably enlarged,
were he to delineate the various scenes he has been called to witness;
but having some doubts as to the exact period of their occurrence, and
the circumstances connected with them, he has omitted the relation
altogether, that nothing might furnish an occasion to impeach his
veracity. Respecting the geography and natural history of the country in
which he was detained a prisoner, he adds, that he had no opportunity of
making sufficient observations; and to give an accurate account of the
manners and customs of the inhabitants, would require talents to which
he lays no claim, and a period of time that would include nearly the
life of man. In apologizing for any inaccuracies or inelegancies that
may appear in his language, the author justly observes, that from about
the age of fifteen to twenty-five, being detained a prisoner, he was cut
off from all means of improvement; and having but little hope of ever
revisiting his native land, he had no inducement to make the attempt, if
the means had been placed within his reach. Indeed, such was the
malignant vigilance with which all the prisoners were watched, that had
he been detected in committing any thing to writing, the discovery would
most probably have cost him his life.
For the particulars which follow, respecting the narrator’s early life
and family connexions, the publisher is indebted to his widow and son,
who reside in London. From the same source he has also obtained those
concluding branches of Mr. SCURRY’s history, which trace him from his
return to England to his death, which took place in 1822.
JAMES SCURRY, the author and subject of the following memoir, was born
in Devonshire, of which county his more immediate ancestors were
natives. His father in early life entered into the marine service, in
which situation he spent nearly all his days. During his career, he was
engaged in many arduous enterprises, and was always noted for his
valour. He was at the battle of Bunker’s Hill, in America, where he was
exposed to unexampled danger. On one occasion, being sent out on a
foraging party with seventeen others, they were attacked by about four
hundred Americans. A dreadful conflict ensued, in which sixteen of their
little party fell. Only he and another survived, and they were taken
prisoners. On being liberated, he again returned to the service, and, in
consequence of his heroism, was promoted to the office of
paymaster-sergeant. Towards the close of life he became an inmate of
Greenwich Hospital, where he died, leaving a widow and two children, one
of whom was the subject of this narrative, and whose awful captivity
being known, is supposed to have shortened his days. The other, a
daughter, was married to a Mr. Dannan, then in the excise, but since a
port-gauger at Exeter, with whom the hardy veteran’s widow died, about
thirteen years since.
It appears that at a very early period JAMES SCURRY went to sea. His
widow and son think he could not have been much above seven years old,
when he entered on his first voyage. He was a considerable time on the
coast of America, and in the West Indies; was employed to carry powder
during the time of action; and he amused the sailors with playing the
fife when they were disengaged. How, or in what manner, he obtained a
knowledge of reading and writing, they do not know, nor are they
particularly acquainted with the transactions of his early days. Having
given this brief introductory statement, the Editor now proceeds to the
author’s own affecting narrative.
*⁎* In several places throughout the following pages, where the word
“Patam” occurs, it is used for Seringapatam.
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