The Life and Remarkable Adventures of
ISRAEL R. POTTER
[Illustration: “OLD CHAIRS TO MEND.”]
ISRAEL R. POTTER
_The autobiography of America’s first tragic hero--the
basis of Herman Melville’s famous novel_
_Introduction by Leonard Kriegel_
[Illustration: The American Experience Series]
CORINTH AE 16 $1.25
LIFE AND REMARKABLE
ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL R. POTTER
“Shortly after his return in infirm old age to his native land, a
little narrative of his adventures, forlornly published on sleazy gray
paper, appeared among the peddlers, written, probably not by himself,
but taken down from his lips by another. But like the crutch-marks of
the cripple by the Beautiful Gate, this blurred record is now out of
print.”
So Herman Melville, on June 17th, 1854, described this original volume
in the Dedication (_To His Highness, The Bunker Hill Monument_) of
his fictionalized version of Potter’s autobiography.
The present edition is a faithful republication of Potter’s own story,
reset from the Henry Trumbull printing in 1824. The reproduction of the
original title page and frontispiece illustration are from a copy in
the New York Public Library and used with their kind permission. Also
reproduced is the title page and frontispiece illustration of the J.
Howard printing in the same year.
In an Appendix, the final chapters of Herman Melville’s _Israel
Potter_ have been reproduced from the 1855 first edition printing.
LIFE
and
REMARKABLE ADVENTURES
of
ISRAEL R. POTTER
_Introduction by Leonard Kriegel_
[Illustration: The American Experience Series]
CONSULTING EDITOR: HENRY BAMFORD PARKES
CORINTH BOOKS
NEW YORK
LEONARD KRIEGEL is an Instructor of English at The
City College of New York. He has edited a book on the
political philosophy of the Founding Fathers which is soon
to be published and has written a number of stories and
articles.
Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 62-10046
Copyright © 1962 Corinth Books, Inc.
THE AMERICAN EXPERIENCE SERIES
Published by Corinth Books Inc.
32 West Eighth Street, New York 11, N. Y.
Distributed by The Citadel Press
222 Park Avenue South, New York 3, N. Y.
_Printed in the U.S.A._
NOBLE OFFSET PRINTERS, INC.
NEW YORK 3, N. Y.
INTRODUCTION
_The Life and Remarkable Adventures of Israel Potter_ has been
read, when it has been read at all, in the same way as college
sophomores studying Shakespeare read _Plutarch’s Lives_, not
for the moral homilies of a great biographer but rather as notes for
the study of _Julius Caesar_ or _Antony and Cleopatra_. In
the case of Israel Potter’s _Life_, however, such an approach
can at least be partially justified, since its primary significance
remains as a source for Herman Melville’s “Revolutionary narrative
of a beggar.” That Melville was unable to mold the source to fit his
artistic conception becomes readily apparent when we read these memoirs
for ourselves and then turn to his novel. Only after making such a
comparison does one realize the truth of F. O. Matthiessen’s assertion
that for Melville, by the time he wrote _Israel Potter_, tragedy
“had become so real that it could not be written.” But despite his
artistic failure, Melville’s choice of subject remains interesting,
both for what it tells us about Melville’s deepening sense of despair
and for what it tells us about individualism and democracy. For in
these ghostwritten memoirs, a pensioner’s plea to the government
by “one of the few survivors who fought and bled for American
Independence,” Melville caught a striking reflection of his own state
of mind. The real Israel Potter, like Melville’s “Revolutionary
beggar,” was another name added to the long list of the world’s
victims. And it is as a victim that this “plebian Lear” speaks to us,
too.
Not only is Israel a victim, he is--and for Melville’s purposes this
was most significant--an American victim. It is this quality, this
peculiarly “frontier” attempt to reconcile the promise of life with the
actualities of existence, that stamps the real Israel Potter. Somehow,
for the American, life is never as good, as ennobling, or as fulfilling
as he feels it was meant to be. For against his dream of selfhood
the American is forced to measure the accidental evil of existence
itself. It was as such a gauge that Melville attempted to make use of
this short _Life_ of an insignificant “native of Cranston, Rhode
Island.” Despite his artistic failure, his instinct was undoubtedly
sound. For Israel Potter is not merely another good man adrift in a
world devoid of goodness: he is, above all, an American, whose ideals
and aims are derived from that same self-reliant democratic ethos which
Whitman and Emerson were later to celebrate. Hired laborer, farmer,
chain bearer, hunter, trapper, Indian trader, merchant sailor, whaler,
soldier, courier, spy, carpenter, and beggar, through it all, Israel
remains the American, the man who, even in the hardships of exile,
insists that all will be well once he can again walk “on American
ground.”
As it proved to be with so many of his countrymen, success was Israel’s
failure. He returned, in May, 1823, after an absence of 48 years, to an
America that was already far different from the country he remembered
leaving at the age of 31. He had grown older and now he looked back;
America, too, had grown older, but now it looked forward. Israel had
come home to die; America was far too busy in the conquest of itself
to give death anything more than the platitudinous comfort of words.
Israel petitioned the government for a pension; but the government was
now stable, a government of laws and not of men, and so his petition
was rejected. After his long exile Israel had come to understand that
there were boundaries to any existence; American optimism made even the
recognition of such boundaries an impossibility.
Melville, to his credit, saw all of this. That he was not able to
integrate such insights into the novel that evolved from these memoirs
is not overly important; one year after the publication of _Israel
Potter_, he quit work on his uncompleted philosophical novel, _The
Confidence Man_, which, despite its manifold faults, must be read
as a savage indictment of the shallow humanitarianism against which
the real Israel Potter proved to be so helpless. It was in this novel
that Melville provided his nihilistic answer to the fragile, confused
optimism with which Israel attempted to confront living.
The differences between what Melville saw in Israel’s life and
what Israel himself saw are interesting enough: for Melville, who
saw the truth so intensely that he found himself unable to commit
his perceptions to paper, Israel’s life was further proof of man’s
insignificance in a universe whose order remains completely beyond
his comprehension; but Israel, who is neither what Madison Avenue or
Socrates calls a “thinking man,” constantly confuses the _what is_
of life with the _what ought to be_. One sees the limitations of
Israel’s perception in his attitude towards Benjamin Franklin; Israel
praises Franklin as “that great and good man,” the living embodiment
of all that the American dream promises. For Melville, on the other
hand, Franklin is not the embodiment but the decay of that dream, the
sophisticated but soulless statesman who is damned as “everything
but a poet.” The real Israel dismisses Franklin in two pages, but
Melville cannot dismiss him for six chapters. “It’s wisdom that’s
cheap, and it’s fortune that’s dear,” Melville has his Israel say
as he disgustedly slams down a copy of _Poor Richard_. But the
real Israel was a believer in wisdom; wisdom, along with goodness and
self-reliance and Christianity, was the way to fortune. And it is
because of this lack of perception that his own story is a far truer
portrayal of the mystique of victimization than is Melville’s novel.
Israel consistently does the admirable thing at the right time, only to
see himself mocked by circumstance or fate or whatever label we choose
to give to the quiet terror that life so frequently breeds.
Perhaps it was also his limited perception that enabled Israel to
devote almost half these memoirs to his years of exile; he records his
sufferings in detail, a record that was so painful to Melville that he
could do no more than hurriedly outline it in a few short, concluding
chapters. One can scarcely see what other choice Melville could have
made--such intense and unalleviated suffering can easily make of its
victim a mock-epic buffoon. In his own story, Israel manages to avoid
this fate, but only because he does not fully understand what is
happening to him. Melville saw the truth; because it was so painful,
however, he found himself unable to write it.
_The Life and Remarkable Adventures of Israel Potter_ was
published in Providence in 1824, one year after Israel “succeeded in
the (79th year of his age) in obtaining a passage to his native country
after an absence of 48 years.” This small book, written and published
by Henry Trumbull, a Providence, Rhode Island printer, did not help him
achieve his objective: his quest for a pension proved unsuccessful,
and he died soon after, on “the same day,” Melville tells us, “that
the oldest oak in his native hills was blown down.” He took with him
whatever was left of his dream and his pride, an end which, to some
extent, all victims share. “Kings as clowns,” Melville wrote bitterly,
“are codgers--who ain’t a nobody?” It is a fitting epitaph for all the
Israel Potters.
LEONARD KRIEGEL
_The City College of New York_
[Illustration: “_OLD CHAIRS TO MEND_”
ISRAEL R. POTTER,
Born in Cranston (Rhode Island) August 1st, 1744.]
LIFE
AND
REMARKABLE ADVENTURES
OF
ISRAEL R. POTTER,
(A NATIVE OF CRANSTON, RHODE-ISLAND,)
WHO WAS A SOLDIER IN THE
AMERICAN REVOLUTION,
And took a distinguished part in the Battle of Bunker Hill (in
which he received three wounds,) after which he was taken Prisoner
by the British, conveyed to England, where for 30 years he obtained
a livelihood for himself and family, by crying “_Old Chairs to
Mend_,” through the Streets of London.--In May last, by the
assistance of the American Consul, he succeeded (in the 79th year
of his age) in obtaining a passage to his native country, after an
absence of 48 years.
PROVIDENCE:
Printed by J. Howard, for I. R. Potter--1824.
(Price 31 Cents.)
[Illustration:
“OLD CHAIRS TO MEND”
ISRAEL R. POTTER
_Born in Cranston R.I. August 1^{st}. 1744._]
LIFE
AND
REMARKABLE ADVENTURES
OF
ISRAEL R. POTTER,
(A NATIVE OF CRANSTON, RHODE-ISLAND.)
WHO WAS A SOLDIER IN THE
AMERICAN REVOLUTION,
And took a distinguished part in the Battle of Bunker Hill (in
which he received three wounds,) after which he was taken Prisoner
by the British, conveyed to England, where for 30 years he obtained
a livelihood for himself and family, by crying “_Old Chairs to
Mend_” through the Streets of London.--In May last, by the
assistance of the American Consul, he succeeded (in the 79th year
of his age) in obtaining a passage to his native country, after an
absence of 48 years.
PROVIDENCE:
Printed by Henry Trumbull--1824.
(Price 28 Cents.)
PREFACE.
In the foregoing pages we have attempted a simple narrative of the life
and extraordinary adventures of one of the few survivors who fought
and bled for American Independence. There is not probably another
now living who took an equally active part in the Revolutionary war,
whose life has been marked with more extraordinary events, and who has
drank deeper of the cup of adversity, than the aged veteran with whose
History we now beg liberty to present the American public. Doomed by
the fate of War to be early separated from kindred and friends, and to
be conveyed by a foreign foe a prisoner of war from his native land,
to a far distant country, where after having for 48 years experienced
almost every hardship and deprivation of which adverse fortune is
productive, providence appears at length to have so far interfered
in his behalf, as to provide means whereby he has been enabled at an
advanced age once more to visit and inhale the pure air of his native
land. At the age of Seventy-Nine, an age in which it cannot be expected
that the lamp of human life can long remain unextinguished, he has
arrived among us, in a state of penury and want, to seek in common with
his countrymen the enjoyment of a few of the blessings produced by
American valour, in her memorable conflict with the mother country and
in which he took a distinguished part.
As it yet remains doubtful whether (in consequence of his long absence)
he will be so fortunate as to be included in that number to whom
Government has granted pensions for their Revolutionary services, it is
to obtain if possible a humble pittance as a remuneration, in part, for
the unprecedented privations and sufferings of which he has been the
unfortunate subject, that he is now induced to present the public with
the following concise and simple narration of the most extraordinary
incidents of his life.
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL R. POTTER,
I was born of reputable parents in the town of Cranston, State of Rhode
Island, August 1st, 1744.--I continued with my parents there in the
full enjoyment of parental affection and indulgence, until I arrived at
the age of 18, when, having formed an acquaintance with the daughter
of a Mr. Richard Gardner, a near neighbour, for whom (in the opinion
of my friends) entertaining too great a degree of partiality, I was
reprimanded and threatened by them with more severe punishment, if my
visits were not discontinued. Disappointed in my intentions of forming
an union (when of suitable age) with one whom I really loved, I deemed
the conduct of my parents in this respect unreasonable and oppressive,
and formed the determination to leave them, for the purpose of seeking
another home and other friends.
It was on Sunday, while the family were at meeting, that I packed up
as many articles of my cloathing as could be contained in a pocket
handkerchief, which, with a small quantity of provision, I conveyed to
and secreted in a piece of woods in the rear of my father’s house; I
then returned and continued in the house until about 9 in the evening,
when with the pretence of retiring to bed, I passed into a back room
and from thence out of a back door and hastened to the spot where I
had deposited my cloathes, &c.--it was a warm summer’s night, and that
I might be enabled to travel with the more facility the succeeding
day, I lay down at the foot of a tree and reposed myself until about
4 in the morning when I arose and commenced my journey, travelling
westward, with an intention of reaching if possible the new countries,
which I had heard highly spoken of as affording excellent prospects
for industrious and enterprising young men--to evade the pursuit of my
friends, by whom I knew I should be early missed and diligently sought
for, I confined my travel to the woods and shunned the public roads,
until I had reached the distance of about 12 miles from my father’s
house.
At noon the succeeding day I reached Hartford, in Connecticut, and
applied to a farmer in that town for work, and for whom I agreed to
labour for one month for the sum of six dollars. Having completed
my month’s work to the satisfaction of my employer, I received my
money and started from Hartford for Otter Creek; but, when I reached
Springfield, I met with a man bound to the Cahos country, and who
offered me four dollars to accompany him, of which offer I accepted,
and the next morning we left Springfield and in a canoe ascended
Connecticut river, and in about two weeks after much hard labour in
paddling and poling the boat against the current, we reached Lebanon
(N. H.), the place of our destination. It was with some difficulty and
not until I had procured a writ, by the assistance of a respectable
innkeeper in Lebanon, by the name of Hill, that I obtained from my last
employer the four dollars which he had agreed to pay me for my services.
From Lebanon I crossed the river to New-Hartford (then N. Y.) where
I bargained with a Mr. Brink of that town for 200 acres of new land,
lying in New Hampshire, and for which I was to labour for him four
months. As this may appear to some a small consideration for so great
a number of acres of land, it may be well here to acquaint the reader
with the situation of the country in that quarter, at that early
period of its settlement--which was an almost impenetrable wilderness,
containing but few civilized inhabitants, far distantly situated from
each other and from any considerable settlement; and whose temporary
habitations with a few exceptions were constructed of logs in their
natural state--the woods abounded with wild beasts of almost every
description peculiar to this country, nor were the few inhabitants at
that time free from serious apprehension of being at some unguarded
moment suddenly attacked and destroyed, or conveyed into captivity by
the savages, who from the commencement of the French war, had improved
every favourable opportunity to cut off the defenceless inhabitants of
the frontier towns.
After the expiration of my four months labour the person who had
promised me a deed of 200 acres of land therefor, having refused to
fulfill his engagements, I was obliged to engage with a party of his
Majesty’s Surveyors at fifteen shillings per month, as an assistant
chain bearer, to survey the wild unsettled lands bordering on the
Connecticut river, to its source. It was in the winter season, and the
snow so deep that it was impossible to travel without snow shoes--at
the close of each day we enkindled a fire, cooked our victuals and
erected with the branches of hemlock a temporary hut, which served
us for a shelter for the night. The Surveyors having completed
their business returned to Lebanon, after an absence of about two
months. Receiving my wages I purchased a fowling-piece and ammunition
therewith, and for the four succeeding months devoted my time in
hunting Deer, Beavers, &c. in which I was very successful, as in the
four months I obtained as many skins of these animals as produced
me forty dollars--with my money I purchased of a Mr. John Marsh,
100 acres of new land, lying on Water Quechy River (so called) about
five miles from Hartford (N. Y.). On this land I went immediately to
work, erected a small log hut thereon, and in two summers without any
assistance, cleared up thirty acres fit for sowing--in the winter
seasons I employed my time in hunting and entraping such animals
whose hides and furs were esteemed of the most value. I remained in
possession of my land two years, and then disposed of it to the same
person of whom I purchased it, at the advanced price of 200 dollars,
and then conveyed my skins and furs which I had collected the two
preceding winters, to NO. 4 (now Charlestown), where I exchanged
them for Indian blankets, wampeag and such other articles as I could
conveniently convey on a hand sled, and with which I started for
Canada, to barter with the Indians for furs.--This proved a very
profitable trip, as I very soon disposed of every article at an advance
of more than two hundred per cent, and received payment in furs at a
reduced price, and for which I received in NO. 4, 200 dollars, cash.
With this money, together with what I was before in possession of, I
now set out for home, once more to visit my parents after an absence
of two years and nine months, in which time my friends had not been
enabled to receive any correct information of me. On my arrival, so
greatly effected were my parents at the presence of a son whom they
had considered dead, that it was sometime before either could become
sufficiently composed to listen to or to request me to furnish them
with an account of my travels.
Soon after my return, as some atonement for the anxiety which I had
caused my parents, I presented them with most of the money that I had
earned in my absence, and formed the determination that I would remain
with them contented at home, in consequence of a conclusion from the
welcome reception that I met with, that they had repented of their
opposition, and had become reconciled to my intended union--but, in
this, I soon found that I was mistaken; for, although overjoyed to see
me alive, whom they had supposed really dead, no sooner did they find
that my long absence had rather increased than diminished my attachment
for their neighbor’s daughter, than their resentment and opposition
appeared to increase in proportion--in consequence of which I formed
the determination again to quit them, and try my fortune at sea, as I
had now arrived at an age in which I had an unquestionable right to
think and act for myself.
After remaining at home one month, I applied for and procured a
birth at Providence, on board the Sloop ----, Capt. Fuller, bound to
Grenada--having completed her loading (which consisted of stone lime,
hoops, staves, &c.) we set sail with a favourable wind, and nothing
worthy of note occurred until the 15th day from that on which we left
Providence, when the sloop was discovered to be on fire, by a smoke
issuing from her hold--the hatches were immediately raised, but as it
was discovered that the fire was caused by water communicating with
the lime, it was deemed useless to make any attempts to extinguish
it--orders were immediately thereupon given by the captain to hoist out
the long boat, which was found in such a leaky condition as to require
constant bailing to keep her afloat; we had only time to put on board
a small quantity of bread, a firkin of butter and a ten gallon keg of
water, when we embarked, eight in number, to trust ourselves to the
mercy of the waves, in a leaky boat and many leagues from land. As
our provision was but small in quantity, and it being uncertain how
long we might remain in our perilous situation, it was proposed by the
captain soon after leaving the sloop, that we should put ourselves on
an allowance of one biscuit and half a pint of water per day, for each
man, which was readily agreed to by all on board--in ten minutes after
leaving the sloop she was in a complete blaze, and presented an awful
spectacle. With a piece of the flying-jib, which had been fortunately
thrown into the boat, we made shift to erect a sail, and proceeded in
a south-west direction in hopes to reach the spanish maine, if not
so fortunate as to fall in with some vessel in our course--which, by
the interposition of kind providence in our favour, actually took
place the second day after leaving the sloop--we were discovered and
picked up by a Dutch ship bound from Eustatia to Holland, and from
the captain and crew met with a humane reception, and were supplied
with every necessary that the ship afforded--we continued on board
one week when we fell in with an American sloop bound from Piscataqua
to Antigua, which received us all on board and conveyed us in safety
to the port of her destination. At Antigua I got a birth on board an
American brig bound to Porto Rico, and from thence to Eustatia. At
Eustatia I received my discharge and entered on board a Ship belonging
to Nantucket, and bound on a whaling voyage, which proved an uncommonly
short and successful one--we returned to Nantucket full of oil after
an absence of the ship from that port of only 16 months. After my
discharge I continued about one month on the island, and then took
passage for Providence, and from thence went to Cranston, once more to
visit my friends, with whom I continued three weeks, and then returned
to Nantucket. From Nantucket I made another whaling voyage to the South
Seas and after an absence of three years, (in which time I experienced
almost all the hardships and deprivations peculiar to Whalemen in long
voyages) I succeeded by the blessings of providence in reaching once
more my native home, perfectly sick of the sea, and willing to return
to the bush and exchange a mariner’s life for one less hazardous and
fatiguing.
I remained with my friends at Cranston a few weeks, and then hired
myself to a Mr. James Waterman, of Coventry, for 12 months, to work at
farming. This was in the year 1774, and I continued with him about six
months, when the difficulties which had for some time prevailed between
the Americans and Britons, had now arrived at that crisis, as to render
it certain that hostilities would soon commence in good earnest between
the two nations; in consequence of which, the Americans at this period
began to prepare themselves for the event--companies were formed in
several of the towns in New England, who received the appellation of
“minute men,” and who were to hold themselves in readiness to obey the
first summons of their officers, to march at a moment’s notice;--a
company of this kind was formed in Coventry, into which I enlisted, and
to the command of which Edmund Johnson, of said Coventry, was appointed.
It was on a Sabbath morning that news was received of the destruction
of the provincial stores at Concord, and of the massacre of our
countrymen at Lexington, by a detached party of the British troops
from Boston: and I immediately thereupon received a summons from the
captain, to be prepared to march with the company early the morning
ensuing--and, although I felt not less willing to obey the call of
my country at a minute’s notice, and to face her foes, than did the
gallant Putnam, yet, the nature of the summons did not render it
necessary for me, like him, to quit my plough in the field; as having
the day previous commenced the ploughing of a field of ten or twelve
acres, that I might not leave my work half done, I improved the sabbath
to complete it.
By the break of day Monday morning I swung my knapsack, shouldered
my musket, and with the company commenced my march with a quick step
for Charlestown, where we arrived about sunset and remained encamped
in the vicinity until about noon of the 16th June; when, having been
previously joined by the remainder of the regiment from Rhode Island,
to which our company was attached, we received orders to proceed and
join a detachment of about 1000 American troops, which had that morning
taken possession of Bunker Hill, and which we had orders immediately
to fortify, in the best manner that circumstances would admit of. We
laboured all night without cessation and with very little refreshment,
and by the dawn of day succeeded in throwing up a redoubt of eight
or nine rods square. As soon as our works were discovered by the
British in the morning, they commenced a heavy fire upon us, which
was supported by a fort on Copp’s hill; we however (under the command
of the intrepid Putnam) continued to labour like beavers until our
breast-work was completed.
About noon, a number of the enemy’s boats and barges, filled with
troops, landed at Charlestown, and commenced a deliberate march to
attack us--we were now harangued by Gen. Putnam, who reminded us, that
exhausted as we were, by our incessant labour through the preceding
night, the most important part of our duty was yet to be performed,
and that much would be expected from so great a number of excellent
marksmen--he charged us to be cool, and to reserve our fire until the
enemy approached so near as to enable us to see the white of their
eyes--when within about ten rods of our works we gave them the contents
of our muskets, and which were aimed with so good effect, as soon to
cause them to turn their backs and to retreat with a much quicker step
than with what they approached us. We were now again harangued by “old
General Put,” as he was termed, and requested by him to aim at the
officers, should the enemy renew the attack--which they did in a few
moments, with a reinforcement--their approach was with a slow step,
which gave us an excellent opportunity to obey the commands of our
General in bringing down their officers. I feel but little disposed
to boast of my own performances on this occasion, and will only say,
that after devoting so many months in hunting the wild animals of the
wilderness, while an inhabitant of New Hampshire, the reader will not
suppose me a bad or unexperienced marksman, and that such were the fare
shots which the epauletted red coats presented in the two attacks,
that every shot which they received from me, I am confident on another
occasion would have produced me a deer skin.
So warm was the reception that the enemy met with in their second
attack, that they again found it necessary to retreat, but soon after
receiving a fresh reinforcement, a third assault was made, in which,
in consequence of our ammunition failing, they too well succeeded--a
close and bloody engagement now ensued--to fight our way through a
very considerable body of the enemy, with clubbed muskets (for there
were not one in twenty of us provided with bayonets) were now the only
means left us to escape;--the conflict, which was a sharp and severe
one, is still fresh in my memory, and cannot be forgotten by me while
the scars of the wounds which I then received, remain to remind me of
it!--fortunately for me, at this critical moment, I was armed with a
cutlass, which although without an edge, and much rust-eaten, I found
of infinite more service to me than my musket--in one instance I am
certain it was the means of saving my life--a blow with a cutlass was
aimed at my head by a British officer, which I parried and received
only a slight cut with the point on my right arm near the elbow, which
I was then unconscious of, but this slight wound cost my antagonist at
the moment a much more serious one, which effectually dis-_armed_
him, for with one well directed stroke I deprived him of the power of
very soon again measuring swords with a “yankee rebel!” We finally
however should have been mostly cut off, and compelled to yield to a
superiour and better equipped force, had not a body of three or four
hundred Connecticut men formed a temporary breast work, with rails &c.
and by which means held the enemy at bay until our main body had time
to ascend the heights, and retreat across the neck;--in this retreat I
was less fortunate than many of my comrades--I received two musket ball
wounds, one in my hip and the other near the ankle of my left leg--I
succeeded however without any assistance in reaching Prospect Hill,
where the main body of the Americans had made a stand and commenced
fortifying--from thence I was soon after conveyed to the Hospital
in Cambridge, where my wounds were dressed and the bullet extracted
from my hip by one of the Surgeons; the house was nearly filled with
the poor fellows who like myself had received wounds in the late
engagement, and presented a melancholly spectacle.
Bunker Hill fight proved a sore thing for the British, and will I doubt
not be long remembered by them; while in London I heard it frequently
spoken of by many who had taken an active part therein, some of whom
were pensioners, and bore indelible proofs of American bravery--by
them the Yankees, by whom they were opposed, were not unfrequently
represented as a set of infuriated beings, whom nothing could daunt
or intimidate: and who, after their ammunition failed, disputed the
ground, inch by inch, for a full hour with clubbed muskets, rusty
swords, pitchforks and billets of wood, against the British bayonets.
I suffered much pain from the wound which I received in my ankle, the
bone was badly fractured and several pieces were extracted by the
surgeon, and it was six weeks before I was sufficiently recovered to
be able to join my Regiment quartered on Prospect Hill, where they had
thrown up entrenchments within the distance of little more than a mile
of the enemy’s camp, which was full in view, they having entrenched
themselves on Bunker Hill after the engagement.
On the 3d July, to the great satisfaction of the Americans, General
WASHINGTON arrived from the south to take command--I was
then confined in the Hospital, but as far as my observations could
extend, he met with a joyful reception, and his arrival was welcomed by
every one throughout the camp--the troops had been long waiting with
impatience for his arrival as being nearly destitute of ammunition and
the British receiving reinforcements daily, their prospects began to
wear a gloomy aspect.
The British quartered in Boston began soon to suffer much from the
scarcity of provisions, and General Washington took every precaution
to prevent their gaining a supply--from the country all supplies could
be easily cut off, and to prevent their receiving any from Tories, and
other disaffected persons by water, the General found it necessary to
equip two or three armed vessels to intercept them--among these was the
brigantine Washington of 10 guns, commanded by Capt. Martindale,--as
seamen at this time could not easily be obtained, as most of them
had enlisted in the land service, permission was given to any of the
soldiers who should be pleased to accept of the offer, to man these
vessels--consequently myself with several others of the same regiment
went on board of the Washington, then lying at Plymouth, and in
complete order for a cruise.
We set sail about the 8th December, but had been out but three days
when we were captured by the enemy’s ship Foy, of 20 guns, who took us
all out and put a prize crew on board the Washington--the Foy proceeded
with us immediately to Boston bay where we were put on board the
British frigate Tartar and orders given to convey us to England.--When
two or three days out I projected a scheme (with the assistance of my
fellow prisoners, 72 in number) to take the ship, in which we should
undoubtedly have succeeded, as we had a number of resolute fellows on
board, had it not been for the treachery of a renegade Englishman, who
betrayed us--as I was pointed out by this fellow as the principal in
the plot, I was ordered in irons by the Officers of the Tartar, and in
which situation I remained until the arrival of the ship at Portsmouth
(Eng.) when I was brought on deck and closely examined, but protesting
my innocence, and what was very fortunate for me in the course of the
examination, the person by whom I had been betrayed, having been proved
a British deserter, his story was discredited and I was relieved of my
irons.
The prisoners were now all thoroughly cleansed and conveyed to the
marine hospital on shore, where many of us took the small-pox the
natural way, by some whom we found in the hospital effected with that
disease, and which proved fatal to nearly one half our number. From the
hospital those of us who survived were conveyed to Spithead, and put
on board a Guard Ship, and where I had been confined with my fellow
prisoners about one month, when I was ordered into the boat, to assist
the bargemen (in consequence of the absence of one of their gang) in
rowing the lieutenant on shore. As soon as we reached the shore and the
officer landed, it was proposed by some of the boat’s crew to resort
for a few moments to an ale-house, in the vicinity, to treat themselves
to a few pots of beer; which being agreed to by all, I thought this
a favourable opportunity and the only one that might present to
escape from my Floating Prison, and felt determined not to let it
pass unimproved; accordingly, as the boat’s crew were about to enter
the house, I expressed a necessity of my separating from them a few
moments, to which they (not suspecting any design), readily assented.
As soon as I saw them all snugly in and the door closed, I gave speed
to my legs, and ran, as I then concluded, about four miles without once
halting--I steered my course toward London as when there by mingling
with the crowd, I thought it probable that I should be least suspected.
When I had reached the distance of about ten miles from where I
quit the bargemen and beginning to think myself in little danger of
apprehension, should any of them be sent by the lieutenant in pursuit
of me, as I was leisurely passing a public house, I was noticed and
hailed by a naval officer at the door with “ahoi, what ship?”--“no
ship,” was my reply, on which he ordered me to stop, but of which I
took no other notice than to observe to him that if he would attend
to his own business I would proceed quietly about mine--this rather
increasing than diminishing his suspicions that I was a deserter,
garbed as I was, he gave chase--finding myself closely pursued and
unwilling again to be made a prisoner of, if it was possible to escape,
I had once more to trust to my legs, and should have again succeeded
had not the officer, on finding himself likely to be distanced, set up
a cry of “stop thief!” this brought numbers out of their houses and
work shops, who, joining in the pursuit, succeeded after a chase of
nearly a mile in overhauling me.
Finding myself once more in their power and a perfect stranger to the
country, I deemed it vain to attempt to deceive them with a lie, and
therefore made a voluntary confession to the officer that I was a
prisoner of war, and related to him in what manner I had that morning
made my escape. By the officer I was conveyed back to the Inn, and left
in custody of two soldiers--the former (previous to retiring) observing
to the landlord that believing me to be a true blooded yankee,
requested him to supply me at his expense with as much liquor as I
should call for.
The house was thronged early in the evening by many of the “good and
faithful subjects of King George,” who had assembled to take a peep
at the “yankee rebel,” (as they termed me) who had so recently taken
an active part in the rebellious war, then raging in his Majesty’s
American provinces--while others came apparently to gratify a curiosity
in viewing, for the first time, an “American Yankee!” whom they had
been taught to believe a kind of non descripts--beings of much less
refinement than the ancient Britains, and possessing little more
humanity than the Buccaneers.
As for myself I thought it best not to be reserved, but to reply
readily to all their inquiries; for while my mind was wholly employed
in devising a plan to escape from the custody of my keepers, so far
from manifesting a disposition to resent any of the insults offered
me, or my country, to prevent any suspicions of my designs, I feigned
myself not a little pleased with their observations, and in no way
dissatisfied with my situation. As the officer had left orders with the
landlord to supply me with as much liquor as I should be pleased to
call for, I felt determined to make my keepers merry at his expense, if
possible, as the best means that I could adopt to effect my escape.
The loyal group having attempted in vain to irritate me, by their mean
and ungenerous reflections, by one (who observed that he had frequently
heard it mentioned that the yankees were extraordinary dancers), it was
proposed that I should entertain the company with a jig! to which I
expressed a willingness to assent with much feigned satisfaction, if a
fiddler could be procured--fortunately for them, there was one residing
in the neighbourhood, who was soon introduced, when I was obliged
(although much against my own inclination) to take the floor--with the
full determination, however that if John Bull was to be thus diverted
at the expense of an unfortunate prisoner of war, uncle Jonathan should
come in for his part of the sport before morning, by showing them a few
_Yankee steps_ which they then little dreamed of.
By my performances they were soon satisfied that in this kind of
exercise, I should suffer but little in competition with the most
nimble footed Britain among them nor would they release me until I had
danced myself into a state of perfect perspiration; which, however, so
far from being any disadvantage to me, I considered all in favour of my
projected plan to escape--for while I was pleased to see the flowing
bowl passing merrily about, and not unfrequently brought in contact
with the lips of my two keepers, the state of perspiration that I was
in, prevented its producing on me any intoxicating effects.
The evening having become now far spent and the company mostly
retiring, my keepers (who, to use a sailor’s phrase I was happy to
discover “half seas over”) having much to my dissatisfaction furnished
me with a pair of handcuffs spread a blanket by the side of their bed
on which I was to repose for the night. I feigned myself very grateful
to them for having humanely furnished me with so comfortable a bed,
and on which I stretched myself with much apparent unconcern, and
remained quiet about one hour, when I was sure that the family had
all retired to bed. The important moment had now arrived in which I
was resolved to carry my premeditated plan into execution, or die in
the attempt--for certain I was that if I let this opportunity pass
unimproved, I might have cause to regret it when it was too late--that
I should most assuredly be conveyed early in the morning back to the
floating prison from which I had so recently escaped, and where I might
possibly remain confined until America should obtain her independence,
or the differences between Great-Britain and her American provinces
were adjusted. Yet should I in my attempt to escape meet with more
opposition from my keepers, than what I had calculated from their
apparent state of inebriety, the contest I well knew would be very
unequal--they were two full grown stout men, with whom (if they were
assisted by no others) I should have to contend, handcuffed! but, after
mature deliberation, I resolved that however hazardous the attempt, it
should be made, and that immediately.
After remaining quiet, as I before observed, until I thought it
probable that all had retired to bed in the house, I intimated to my
keepers that I was under the necessity of requesting permission to
retire for a few moments to the back yard; when both instantly arose
and reeling toward me seized each an arm, and proceeded to conduct
me through a long and narrow entry to the back door, which was no
sooner unbolted and opened by one of them, than I tripped up the heels
of both and laid them sprawling, and in a moment was at the garden
wall seeking a passage whereby I might gain the public road--a new
and unexpected obstacle now presented, for I found the whole garden
enclosed with a smooth bricken wall, of the heighth of twelve feet at
least, and was prevented by the darkness of the night from discovering
an avenue leading therefrom--in this predicament, my only alternative
was either to scale this wall handcuffed as I was, and without a
moment’s hesitation, or to suffer myself to be made a captive of again
by my keepers, who had already recovered their feet and were bellowing
like bullocks for assistance--had it not been a very dark night, I
must certainly have been discovered and re-taken by them;--fortunately
before they had succeeded in rallying the family, in groping about I
met with a fruit tree situated within ten or twelve feet of the wall,
which I ascended as expeditiously as possible, and by an extraordinary
leap from the branches reached the top of the wall, and was in an
instant on the opposite side. The coast being now clear, I ran to the
distance of two or three miles, with as much speed as my situation
would admit of;--my next object now was to rid myself of my handcuffs,
which fortunately proving none of the stoutest, I succeeded in doing
after much painful labour.
It was now as I judged about 12 o’clock, and I had succeeded in
reaching a considerable distance from the Inn from which I had made
my escape, without hearing or seeing any thing of my keepers, whom I
had left staggering about in the garden in search of their “Yankee
captive!”--it was indeed to their intoxicated state, and the extreme
darkness of the night, that I imputed my success in evading their
pursuit.--I saw no one until about the break of day, when I met an
old man, tottering beneath the weight of his pick-ax, hoe and shovel,
clad in tattered garments, and otherwise the picture of poverty and
distress; he had just left his humble dwelling, and was proceeding
thus early to his daily labour;--and as I was now satisfied that it
would be very difficult for me to travel in the day time garbed as
I was, in a sailor’s habit, without exciting the suspicions of his
Royal Majesty’s pimps, who (I had been informed) were constantly on
the look-out for deserters, I applied to the old man, miserable as he
appeared, for a change of cloathing, offering those which I then wore
for a suit of inferior quality and less value--this I was induced to
do at that moment, as I thought that the proposal could be made with
perfect safety, for whatever might have been his suspicions as to my
motives in wishing to exchange my dress, I doubted not, that with an
object of so much apparent distress, self-interest would prevent his
communicating them.--The old man however appeared a little surprised
at my offer, and after a short examination of my pea-jacket, trousers,
&c. expressed a doubt whether I would be willing to exchange them for
his “Church suit,” which he represented as something worse for wear,
and not worth half so much as those I then wore--taking courage however
from my assurances that a change of dress was my only object, he
deposited his tools by the side of a hedge, and invited me to accompany
him to his house, which we soon reached and entered, when a scene of
poverty and wretchedness presented, which exceeded every thing of the
kind that I had ever before witnessed--the internal appearance of the
miserable hovel, I am confident would suffer in a comparison with any
of the meanest stables of our American farmers--there was but one
room, in one corner of which was a bed of straw covered with a coarse
sheet, and on which reposed his wife and five small children. I had
heard much of the impoverished and distressed situation of the poor in
England, but the present presented an instance of which I had formed
no conception--little indeed did I then think that it would be my
lot, before I should meet with an opportunity to return to my native
country, to be placed in an infinitely worse situation! but, alas, such
was my hard fortune!
The first garment presented by the poor old man, of his best, or
“church suit,” as he termed it, was a coat of very coarse cloth, and
containing a number of patches of almost every colour but that of
the cloth of which it was originally made--the next was a waistcoat
and a pair of small cloathes, which appeared each to have received a
bountiful supply of patches to correspond with the coat--the coat I put
on without much difficulty, but the two other garments proved much too
small for me, and when I had succeeded with considerable difficulty in
putting them on, they set so taut as to cause me some apprehension that
they might even stop the circulation of blood!--my next exchange was my
buff cap for an old rusty large brimmed hat.
The old man appeared very much pleased with his bargain, and
represented to his wife that he could now accompany her to church
much more decently clad--he immediately tried on the pea-jacket
and trousers, and seemed to give himself very little concern about
their size, although I am confident that one leg of the trousers was
sufficiently large to admit his whole body--but, however ludicrous his
appearance, in his new suit, I am confident that it could not have been
more so than mine, garbed as I was, like an old man of seventy!--From
my old friend I learned the course that I must steer to reach London,
the towns and villages that I should have to pass through, and the
distance thereto, which was between 70 and 80 miles. He likewise
represented to me that the country was filled with soldiers, who were
on the constant look-out for deserters from the navy and army, for the
apprehension of which they received a stipulated reward.