exasperated, observed, 'my boys, as soon as we arrive in the guard
house, let us seize our arms and redress ourselves, or die in the
attempt; for it seems to me that these scoundrels mean to murder us.'
We all unanimously agreed to this advice, and walked back with a
willing mind, and an alert step. {175} But our last hope of redressing
ourselves, and obtaining our liberty was soon extinguished. On entering
the guard house, our arms had been removed we knew not where. They had
even the impudence to search our persons and to take from us even our
pocket knives. The orderly sergeant then told us, that he was under the
necessity of placing us in separate apartments. This last declaration
seemed the death stroke to us all. Affliction and mutual suffering and
danger had endeared us to each other, and this separation seemed like
rending our hearts. Overcome by the suddenness of the blow, I threw
my arms round the neck of my father, burst into tears, and exclaimed,
'that I foresaw, that the parting would be forever.' Though my father
seemed subdued, and absorbed in meditation, he reproved this expression
of my feelings, as weak and unmanly. The sergeant having observed
my grief, asked me, pointing to him, if that was my father? When he
learned that it was, he showed himself in some degree affected, and
remarked, that it seemed cruel to separate father and child, and that
he would go and explain the relationship to the general, and see if he
could not obtain permission for us to remain together. On this he set
off for the general's office, leaving me in the agony of suspense, and
the rest gazing at each other in mute consternation and astonishment.
The sergeant returned, informing me, that instead of being softened,
the general had only been exasperated, and had in nothing relaxed
his orders, which were, that we must immediately be put in separate
confinement. He accordingly ordered some soldiers to assist in locking
us up. We embraced each other, and followed our conductors to our
separate prisons. I can affirm, that I had only wished to live, to
sustain the increasing age and infirmities of my father. When I shook
hands with him, and we were torn in sunder, I will say nothing of my
feelings, for words would have no power to describe them. As I entered
my desolate apartment, the sergeant seemed really affected, and assured
me, that neither my companions nor myself should suffer any want of
food or drink, as far as he could prevent it, for that he did not
consider us guilty, nor worthy of such treatment.
{176} My prison was a cell eight or ten feet square, with walls and
floor of stone. A door with iron bars an inch square crossed over
each other, like the bars of window sashes, and it grated on its iron
hinges, as it opened to receive me. Over the external front of this
prison was inscribed in capital letters _Destinacion de la Cattivo_.
Our blankets were given us to lie upon. My father had a small package
of medicines which he gave in charge to the sergeant, binding him on
his word of honor not to part with it to any one. My door was locked,
and I was left to reflect upon our position and my past misfortunes;
and to survey the dreary walls of my prison. Here, I thought, was my
everlasting abode. Liberty is dear to every one, but doubly dear to
one, who had been from infancy accustomed to free range, and to be
guided by his own will. Put a man, who has ranged the prairies, and
exulted in the wilderness, as I have for years, in a prison, to let
him have a full taste of the blessings of freedom, and the horror of
shackles and confinement! I passed the remainder of the day in fierce
walking backwards and forwards over my stone floor, with no object to
contemplate, but my swarthy sentinel, through the grate. He seemed
to be true to his office, and fitly selected for his business, for
I thought I saw him look at me through the grate with the natural
exultation and joy of a bad and malicious heart in the view of misery.
When the darkness of night came to this dreary place, it was the
darkness of the grave. Every ray of light was extinct. I spread my
blankets on the stone floor, in hopes at least to find, for a few
hours, in the oblivion of sleep, some repose from the agitation of my
thoughts. But in this hope I was disappointed. With every other friend
and solace, sleep too, fled from me. My active mind ranged every where,
and returned only to unavailing efforts to imagine the condition and
feelings of my father and what would be our ultimate fate. I shut my
eyes by an effort, but nature would have her way, and the eyelids would
not close.
At length a glimmer of daylight, through my grate, relieved this long
and painful effort to sleep. I arose, went to my grate, {177} and took
all possible survey of what I could see. Directly in front of it was
the door of the general's office, and he was standing in it. I gazed on
him awhile. Ah! that I had had but my trusty rifle well charged to my
face! Could I but have had the pleasure of that single shot, I think I
would have been willing to have purchased it by my life. But wishes are
not rifle balls, and will not kill.
The church bell told eight in the morning. The drum rolled. A soldier
came, and handed me in something to eat. It proved to be dried beans
and corn cooked with rancid tallow! The contents were about a pint. I
took it up, and brought it within the reach of my nostrils, and sat
it down in unconquerable loathing. When the soldier returned in the
evening to bring me more, I handed him my morning ration untasted and
just as it was. He asked me in a gruff tone why I had not eaten it? I
told him the smell of it was enough, and that I could not eat it. He
threw the contents of the dish in my face, muttering something which
amounted to saying, that it was good enough for such a brute as I was.
To this I answered, that if being a brute gave claims upon that dish, I
thought he had best eat it himself. On this he flung away in a passion,
and returned no more that night, for which I was not sorry. Had the
food even been fit to eat, my thoughts were too dark and my mind too
much agitated to allow me appetite. In fact, I felt myself becoming
sick.
At night I was visited by the serjeant, who asked me about my health
and spirits in a tone and manner, that indicated real kindness of
feeling. I trusted in the reality of his sympathy, and told him, I was
not well. He then questioned me, if I had eaten any thing? I told him
no, and explained to him the double reason, why I had eaten nothing.
He answered that he would remove one of the causes, by sending me
something good. I then asked him if he had seen my father? He said he
had, though he had been unable to hold any conversation with him, for
want of his understanding Spanish. I thanked him for this manifestation
of friendship, and he left me. In a {178} short time he returned with
two well cooked and seasoned dishes. I begged him to take it first
to my father, and when he had eaten what he wished, he might bring
the remainder to me, and I would share it among my companions. He
assured me that my father was served with the same kind of food, and
that my companions should not be forgotten in the distribution. While
I was eating, he remained with me, and asked me, if I had a mother,
and brothers, and sisters in my own country? My heart was full, as I
answered him. He proceeded to question me, how long it had been since
I had seen them or heard from them, and in what I had been occupied,
during my long absence from my country? My misfortunes appeared to
affect him. When I had finished eating, he enquired how I had passed
the preceding night? In all his questions, he displayed true humanity
and tenderness of heart. When he left me, he affectionately wished me
good night. This night passed as sleepless and uncomfortable as the
preceding one. Next day the kind serjeant brought my dinner again,
though from anxiety and growing indisposition I was unable to eat. At
night he came again with my supper, and to my surprise accompanied by
his sister, a young lady of great personal beauty. Her first enquiry
was that of a kind and affectionate nature, and concerned my father.
She enquired about my age, and all the circumstances that induced
me to leave my country? I took leave to intimate in my answer, my
extreme anxiety to see my relatives, and return to my country, and in
particular, that it was like depriving me of life, in this strange
land, and in prison, to separate me from my old and infirm father.
She assured me that she would pray for our salvation, and attempt to
intercede with the general in our behalf, and that while we remained in
prison, she would allow us to suffer nothing, which her power, means or
influence could supply. She then wished me a good night, and departed.
I know not what is the influence of the ministration of a kind spirit,
like hers, but this night my sleep was sound and dreamless.
She frequently repeated these kind visits, and redeemed to the letter
all her pledges of kindness. For I suffered for nothing {179} in regard
to food or drink. A bed was provided for me, and even a change of
clothing. This undeviating kindness greatly endeared her to me. About
this time, Captain John Bradshaw, of the ship Franklin, and Rufus
Perkins, his supercargo, asked leave of the general, to come and visit
us. The general denied them. But Captain Bradshaw, like a true hearted
American, disregarded the little brief authority of this miserable
republican despot, and fearless of danger and the consequences, came
to see me without leave. When I spoke to him about our buried furs, he
asked me about the chances and the means we had to bring them in? And
whether we were disposed to make the effort, and if we succeeded, to
sell them to him? The prisoners, as he separately applied to them, one
and all assured him, that nothing would give them more pleasure. He
assured us, that he would leave nothing in his power undone, in making
efforts to deliver us from our confinement. We thanked him for this
proffered friendship, and he departed.
His first efforts in our favor were directed to gaining the friendship
of the general, in order to soften his feelings in regard to us. But in
this he entirely failed. He then adopted an innocent stratagem, which
was more successful. He informed the general that he had business with
a Spanish merchant in port, which he could not transact for want of
some one who could speak the language fluently, who would interpret
for him, that he understood that one of the American prisoners could
speak the language perfectly well, and that if he would allow that
prisoner to come and interpret for him a few hours, he would bind
himself in a bond to any amount, that the prisoner at the expiration
of his services, would return voluntarily to his prison. To this the
general gave his consent. Captain Bradshaw came to my prison, and I was
permitted by the general's order to leave my prison.
When I went abroad, Captain Bradshaw conducted me to the office of an
old captain, who had charge of the arms. We begged him to intercede
with the general to obtain his permission, that we might go out and
bring in our furs. We informed {180} him, that Captain Bradshaw and
the supercargo, Rufus Perkins, would be our security in any amount,
that the general was disposed to name, that we would return, and
surrender ourselves to him, at the close of the expedition. He was at
once satisfied of our honor and integrity, and that we were by no means
those spies, whom the general took us for, and he promised to use all
his influence with the general, to persuade him to dispatch us for our
furs. We assured him, that in addition to our other proofs, that we
were bonafide Americans, and true republicans, we had documents under
the proper signature of the President of the United States, which we
hoped, would be sufficient to satisfy him, and every one, who we were.
He asked to see those papers, of which I spoke. I told him they were
my father's commission of first lieutenant in the ranging service,
during the late war with England, and an honorable discharge at the
close of the war. He promised to communicate this information to the
general, and departed, proposing to return in half an hour. During this
interval, we walked to my father's cell, and I had the satisfaction of
speaking with him through the grates. He asked me if I had been visited
by a beautiful young lady? When I assented, he replied, that this
charming young woman, as a ministering angel, had also visited his cell
with every sort of kindness and relief, which she had extended to each
one of our companions. I had the satisfaction afterwards, of speaking
with each one of our companions. I need not add, how much delighted we
were to speak with one another once more. From these visits I returned
to the office of the captain of arms.
We found him waiting with the most painful intelligence. Nothing could
move the general, to allow us to go out and bring in our furs. He
expressed a wish, notwithstanding, to see the commission of which I
had spoken, and that I should return to my cell. I gave the papers to
Captain Bradshaw, requesting him to return them to my father, after
the general should have examined them. This he promised, and I took my
leave of him, returning to my dreary prison, less buoyant and more
completely desponding of my liberty than ever.
{181} In a few moments Captain Bradshaw and Perkins came again to my
cell, and said that the general had no faith in our papers, and could
not be softened by any entreaty, to give us our liberty. As he said
this, the sentinel came up, and stopped him short in his conversation,
and ordered them off affirming, that it was the general's express
command, that he should not be allowed to see or speak with me again.
They however pledged their honor as they left me, that whenever an
occasion offered, they would yield us all the assistance in their
power, and wishing me better fortune, they departed.
A fortnight elapsed in this miserable prison, during which I had no
other consolation, than the visits of the young lady, and even these,
such was the strictness of the general's orders, were like all angel
visits, _few and far between_. At length a note was presented me by the
serjeant, from my father. What a note! I appeal to the heart of every
good son to understand what passed within me. This note was written on
a piece of paste board torn from his hat. The characters were almost
illegible, for they were written with a stick, and the ink was blood,
drawn from his aged veins! He informed me that he was very ill, and
without any hope of recovery, that he had but one wish on this side
the grave, and that was, to see me once more before he died. He begged
me to spare no entreaties, that the general would grant me permission
to come and see him a last time; but, that if this permission could
not be obtained, to be assured, that he loved me, and remembered me
affectionately, in death.
This letter pierced me to the heart. O, could I have flown through my
prison walls! Had I possessed the strength of the giants, how soon
would I have levelled them, even had I drawn down destruction on my own
head in doing it. But I could own nothing in my favour, but a fierce
and self devouring will. In hopes that the heart of the general was
not all adamant, I entreated the serjeant to go and inform him of my
father's illness, and his desire to see me once more, and to try to
gain permission that I might have leave to attend upon him, or if that
might not be, to visit him once more, according to his wish. He went
{182} in compliance with my entreaties, and in a few minutes returned
with a dejected countenance, from which I at once inferred what was
the fate of my application. His voice faltered as he related that the
general absolutely refused this request. Oh God! of what stuff are
some hearts made! and this was a republican officer! What nameless
tortures and miseries do not Americans suffer in foreign climes from
those miserable despots who first injure and oppress, and then hate the
victims of their oppression, as judging their hearts by their own, and
thinking that their victims must be full of purposes of revenge.
The honest and kind hearted serjeant hesitated not to express manly and
natural indignation, in view of this inhuman brutality of the general,
in refusing a favor, called for by the simplest dictates of humanity,
a favor too, in the granting which there could be neither difficulty
nor danger. All he could do in the case he promised to do, which was
to see that my father should want no sort of nourishment, or aid which
he could render him. I tried to thank him, but my case was not of a
kind to be alleviated by this sort of consolation. When I thought of
our expectations of relief, when we threw ourselves in the power of
these vile people, when I took into view our innocence of even the
suspicion of a charge that could be brought against us, when I thought
of their duplicity of disarming us, and their infamous oppression as
soon as we were in their power, and more than all, when I thought of
this last brutal cruelty and insult, my whole heart and nature rose in
one mingled feeling of rage, wounded affection, and the indignation
of despair. The image of my venerable father, suffering and dying
unsolaced and unrelieved, and with not a person, who spoke his
language, to close his eyes, and I so near him, was before me wherever
I turned my eyes.
What a horrible night ensued at the close of this day! As the light
was fading, the excellent young lady presented herself at my grate.
She repeated all that her brother had related to me, in regard to the
cruel refusal of the general. While she discussed this subject, the
tears fell from her eyes, and I had the consolation to know, that one
person at least felt real sympathy {183} for my distress. She added, in
faltering tones, that she was well aware that in a case like this words
were of but little avail, but that I might be assured of the kindest
attention to all the wants of my father, that she could relieve; and
that if it was the will of God, to take him out of this world of sorrow
and change, that he should be buried decently and as if he were her
own father. Judge what I must have felt towards this noble minded and
kind hearted young lady! As she withdrew, my prayers at this time were
hearty, if never before, that God would reward her a thousand fold in
all good things, for her sympathy with our sufferings.
Thus passed away these days of agony and suspense. The young lady
visited me as often as it was understood the general's orders would
permit, that is, once in two or three days, bringing me food and drink,
of which in the present state of my thoughts, I had little need. In
fact, I had become so emaciated and feeble that I could hardly travel
across my prison floor. But no grief arrests the flight of time, and
the twenty-fourth of April came, in which the serjeant visited me and
in a manner of mingled kindness and firmness told me that my father
was no more. At these tidings, simple truth calls on me to declare, my
heart felt relieved. I am a hunter, and not a person to analyze the
feelings of poor human nature. My father now was gone, gone where the
voice of the oppressor is no more heard. Since the death of my mother,
I have reason to think, that life had been to him one long burden.
He had been set free from it all, and set free too, from the cruelty
of this vile people, and the still viler general. I felt weak, and
exhausted myself, and I expected to rejoin him in a few days, never
to be separated from him. Life was a burden of which I longed to be
relieved.
After I had given vent to natural feelings on this occasion, the
serjeant asked me touching the manner in which we bury our dead in our
country? I informed him. He then observed that the reason why he asked
that question was, that his sister wished, that my father's body might
be interred in a manner conformable to my wishes. I could only thank
him for all this {184} kindness and humanity to me, as he left me. I
passed the remainder of this day in the indulgence of such reflections
as I have no wish to describe, even had I the power.
At night the serjeant's sister again visited my prison. She seemed
neither able nor disposed to enter upon the subject before us, and
reluctant to call up the circumstance of my father's death to my
thoughts. At length she presented me with a complete suit of black,
and begged that I would wear it on the following day at my father's
funeral. I observed, in astonishment, that she could not doubt what a
melancholy satisfaction it would be to me to follow the remains of my
father to the grave, but that between me and that satisfaction were the
walls of my prison, through which I could not break. She remarked, that
by dint of importunity, she had prevailed on the general to allow me
to attend the funeral. The fair young lady then undertook the duties
of minister and philosopher, counselling me not to grieve for that,
for which there is no remedy, proving to me that it was the will of
God, that he should thus obtain deliverance from prison, and all the
evils of this transitory life, and abundance of common place language
of this sort, very similar to what is held in my own country on like
occasions. Having finished her kindly intended chapter of consolations,
she wished me a good night and left me to my own thoughts. The night I
spent in walking the floor of my prison.
At eight in the morning, a file of six soldiers appeared at the door of
my prison. It was opened, and I once more breathed the fresh air! The
earth and the sky seemed a new region.--The glare of light dazzled my
eyes, and dizzied my head. I reeled as I walked. A lieutenant conducted
the ceremonies: and when I arrived at the grave he ordered the crowd to
give way, that I might see the coffin let down, and the grave filled. I
advanced to the edge of the grave, and caught a glimpse of the coffin
that contained the remains of the brave hunter and ranger. The coffin
was covered with black. No prayers were said. I had scarce time to
draw a second breath, before the grave was half filled with earth. I
was led back to my prison, {185} the young lady walking by my side in
tears. I would gladly have found relief for my own oppressed heart
in tears, if they would have flowed. But the sources were dried, and
tears would not come to my relief. When I arrived at the prison, such a
horrid revulsion came over me at the thoughts of entering that dreary
place again, that I am sure I should have preferred to have been shot,
rather than enter it again. But I recovered myself by reflecting that
my health was rapidly declining, and that I should be able in a short
time to escape from the oppressor and the prison walls, and rejoin my
father, and be at rest.
[Illustration: Burial of Mr. Pattie]
This thought composed me, and I heard the key turn upon me with a
calm and tranquilized mind. I lay down upon my bed, and passed many
hours in the oblivion of sleep. The customary habit of sleep during
the night returned to me; and my strength and appetite began to return
with it. I felt an irresistible propensity to resume my former habit
of smoking. I named my inclination to my friend the serjeant. He
was kind enough to furnish me cigars. This was a new resource to aid
me in killing the time. Apart from the soothing sensation of smoking,
I amused myself for hours in watching the curling of my smoke from the
cigar. Those who have always been free, cannot imagine the corroding
torments of thoughts preying upon the bosom of the prisoner, who has
neither friend to converse with, books to read, or occupation to fill
his hours.
On the 27th of June, Captain Bradshaw's vessel was seized, on the
charge of smuggling. There were other American vessels in this port
at the same time, the names of the captains of which, as far as I can
recollect, were Seth Rogers, Aaron W. Williams, and H. Cunningham.
These gentlemen, jointly with their supercargoes, sent me five ounces
of gold, advising me to keep this money secret from the knowledge of
the Spaniards, and preserve it as a resource for my companions and
myself, in case of emergencies.