Our prison ship contained a pretty well organized community. We were
allowed to establish among ourselves an internal police for our own
comfort and self government.--And here we adhered to the forms of our
own adored constitution; for in place of making a King, Princes,
Dukes, Earls, and Lords, we elected a PRESIDENT, and twelve
Counsellors; who, having executive as well as legislative powers, we
called _Committee men_. But instead of _four_ years, they were to hold
their offices but _four_ weeks; at the end of which a new set was
chosen, by the general votes of all the prisoners.
It was the duty of the President and his twelve counsellors, to make
wholesome laws, and define crimes, and award punishments. We made laws
and regulations respecting personal behaviour, and personal
cleanliness; which last we enforced with particular care; for we had
some lazy, lifeless, slack twisted, dirty fellows among us, that
required attending to, like children. They were like hogs, whose
delight it is to eat, sleep and wallow in the dirt, and never
work.--We had, however, but very few of this low cast; and they were,
in a great measure, pressed down by some chronical disorder. It was
the duty of the President and the twelve committee men, or common
council, to define, precisely, every act punishable by fine, whipping,
or confinement in the _black hole_. I opposed, with all my might, this
last mode of punishment, as unequal, inhuman, and disgraceful to our
national character. I contended that we, who had suffered so much, and
complained so loud of the _black hole_ of the Regulus, Malabar, and
other floating dungeons, should reject, from an humane principle, this
horrid mode of torment. I urged, as a medical man, that the punishment
of a confined black hole, was a very unequal mode of punishment; for
that some men of weak lungs and debilitated habit, might die under the
effects of that which another man could bear without much distress. I
maintained that it was wicked, a sin against human nature, to take a
well man, put him in a place that should destroy his health, and, very
possibly, shorten his days, by engrafting on him some incurable
disorder. Some, on the other side, urged, that as we were in the power
of the British, we should not be uncivil to them; and that our
rejection of the punishment of the _black hole_ might be construed
into a reflection on the English government; so we suffered it to
remain _in terrorem_, with a strong recommendation not to have
recourse to it but in very extraordinary cases. This dispute plunged
me deep into the philosophy of _crimes and punishments_; and I am
convinced, on mature reflection, that we, in America, are as much too
mild in our civil punishments, as the British are too severe. May not
our extreme lenity in punishing theft and murder, lead, in time, to
the adoption of the bloody code of England, with their horrid custom
of hanging girls and boys for petty thefts? Is it not a fact, that
several convicted murderers have escaped lately with their lives, from
a too tender mercy, which is cruelty? By what I have heard, I have
inferred, that the Hollanders have drawn a just line between both.
We used to have our stated, as well as occasional courts. Beside a
bench of judges, we had our orators, and expounders of our laws. It
was amusing and interesting, to see a sailor, in his round short
jacket, addressing the committee, or bench of judges, with a phiz as
serious, and with lies as specious as any of our common lawyers in
Connecticut.--They would argue, turn and twist, evade, retreat, back
out, renew the attack, and dispute every inch of the ground, or rather
the deck, with an address that astonished me. The surgeon of the ship
said to me, one day, after listening to some of our native salt water
pleaders, "these countrymen of yours are the most extraordinary men I
ever met with. While you have such fellows as these, your country will
never lose its liberty." I replied, that this turn for legislation
arose from our being all taught to read and write.--"That alone, did
not give them," said he, "this acuteness of understanding, and
promptness of speech. It arises," said he, with great justness, "from
fearless liberty."
I have already mentioned that we had Frenchmen in this prison-ship.
Instead of occupying themselves with forming a constitution, and
making a code of laws, and defining crimes, and adjusting punishments,
and holding courts, and pleading for, and against the person
arraigned, these Frenchmen had erected billiard tables, and
_rowletts_, or wheels of fortune, not merely for their own amusement,
but to allure the Americans to hazard their money, which these
Frenchmen seldom failed to win.
These Frenchmen exhibited a considerable portion of ingenuity,
industry and patience, in their little manufactories of bone, of
straw, and of hair. They would work incessantly, to get money, by
selling these trifling wares; but many of them had a much more
expeditious way of acquiring cash, and that was by gaming at the
billiard tables and the wheels of fortune. Their skill and address at
these, apparent, games of hazard, were far superior to the Americans.
They seemed calculated for gamesters; their vivacity, their readiness,
and their everlasting professions of friendship, were nicely adapted
to inspire confidence in the unsuspecting American Jack-Tar; who has
no legerdemain about him. Most of the prisoners were in the way of
earning a little money; but almost all of them were deprived of it by
the French gamesters. Our people stood no chance with them; but were
commonly stripped of every cent, whenever they set out seriously to
play with them. How often have I seen a Frenchman capering, and
singing, and grinning, in consequence of his stripping one of our
sailors of all his money? while our solemn Jack-Tar was either
scratching his head, or trying to whistle, or else walking slowly off,
with both hands stuck in his pocket, and looking like _John Bull_,
after concluding a treaty of peace with _Louis Baboon_.
I admire the French, and wish their nation to possess and enjoy peace,
liberty and happiness; but I cannot say that I love these French
prisoners. Beside common sailors, there are several officers of the
rank of captains, lieutenants, and, I believe, midshipmen; and it is
these that are the most adroit gamesters. We have all tried hard to
respect them; but there is _something_ in their conduct so much like
swindling, that I hardly know what to say of them. When they knew that
we had received money for the work we had been allowed to perform,
they were very attentive, and complaisant, and flattering. Some had
been, or pretended to have been, in America. They would come round and
say, "_ah! Boston fine town, very pretty--Cape Cod fine town, very
fine. Town of Rhode Island superb. Bristol-ferry very pretty. General
Washington tres grand homme! General Madison brave homme!_" With these
expressions, and broken English, they would accompany, with their
monkey tricks, capering and grinning, and patting us on the shoulder,
with "_the Americans are brave men--fight like Frenchmen_:" and by
their insinuating manners, allure our men, once more, to their wheels
of fortune and billiard tables; and as sure as they did, so sure did
they strip them of _all_ their money. I must either say nothing of
these Frenchmen, officers and all; or else I must speak as I found
them. I hope they were not a just sample of their whole nation; for
these gentry would exercise every imposition, and even insinuate the
thing that was not, the more easily to plunder us of our hard earned
pittance of small change. Had they shown any generosity, like the
British tar, I should have passed over their conduct in silence; but
after they had stripped our men of every farthing, they would say to
them--"_Monsieur, you have won all our money, now lend us a little
change to get us some coffee and sugar, and we will pay you when we
shall earn more._" "_Ah, Mon Ami_," says Monsieur, shrugging up his
shoulders, "_I am sorry, very sorry, indeed; it is le fortune du
guerre. If you have lost your money, you must win it back again; that
is the fashion in my country--we no lend; that is not the fashion._" I
have observed that these Frenchmen are _fatalists_. Good luck, or ill
luck is all _fate_ with them. So of their national misfortunes; they
shrug up their shoulders, and ascribe all to the inevitable decrees of
fate. This is very different from the Americans, who ascribe every
thing to prudence or imprudence, strength or weakness. Our men say,
that if the game was wrestling, playing at ball, or foot-ball, or
firing at a mark, or rowing, or running a race, they should be on fair
ground with them.--Our fellows offered to institute this game with
them; that there should be a strong canvass bag, with two pieces of
cord four feet long; and the contest should be, for one man to put the
other in the bag, with the liberty of first tying his hands, or his
feet, or both if he chose. Here would be a contest of strength and
hardihood, but not of cunning or legerdemain. But the Frenchmen all
united in saying, "_No! No! No! It is not the fashion in our country
to tie gentlemen up in sacks._"
There were here some Danes, as well as Dutchmen. It is curious to
observe their different looks and manners, which I can hardly believe
to be owing, entirely, to the manner of bringing up. Here we see the
thick skulled plodding Dane, making a wooden dish; or else some of the
most ingenious making a very clumsy ship: while others submitted to
the dirtiest drudgery of the hulk, for money; and there we see a
Dutchman, picking to pieces tarred ropes, which, when reduced to its
original form of hemp, they call oakum; or else you see him lazily
stowed away in some corner, with his pipe, surrounded with smoke, and
"steeping his senses in forgetfulness;" while here and there, and
every where, you find a lively singing Frenchman, working in hair; or
carving out of a bone, a lady, a monkey, or the central figure of the
crucifixion! Among the specimens of American ingenuity, I most admired
their ships, which they built from eight inches to five feet long.
Some of them were said by the navy officers, to be perfect, as
regarded proportion, and exact, as it regarded the miniature
representation of a merchantman, sloop of war, frigate, or ship of the
line. By the specimens of ingenuity of these people, of different
nations, you could discover their respective _ruling passions_.
Had not the French proved themselves to be a very brave people, I
should have doubted it, by what I observed of them on board the
prison-ship. They would scold, quarrel and fight, by slapping each
other's chops with the flat hand, and cry like so many girls. I have
often thought that one of our Yankees, with his iron fist, could, by
one blow, send monsieur into his nonentity. Perhaps such a man as
Napoleon Bonaparte, could make any nation courageous; but there is
some difference between courage and bravery. I have been amused, amid
captivity, on observing the volatile Frenchman singing, dancing,
fencing, grinning and gambling, while the American tar lifts his hardy
front and weather beaten countenance, despising them all, but the
dupe of them all; just about as much disposed to squander his money
among girls and fiddlers, as the English sailor; but never so in love
with it, as to study the arts, tricks and legerdemain to obtain it. I
have, at times, wondered that the hard fisted Yankee did not revenge
impositions on the skulls of some of these blue-skinned sons of the
old continent. Is there not a country, where there is one series or
chain of impositions, from the Pope downwards? There is no such thing
in the United States. That is a country of laws; and their very
sailors are all full of "rights" and "wrongs;" of "justice and
injustice;" and of defining crimes, and ascertaining "the butts and
bounds" of national and individual rights.
It was a pleasant circumstance, that I could now and then obtain some
entertaining books. I had read most of _Dean Swift's_ works, but had
never met with his celebrated allegory of _John Bull_, until I found
it on board this prison-ship. I read this little work with more
delight than I can express. I had always heard the English nation,
including kings, lords, commons, country squires, and merchants,
called "_John Bull_," but I never before knew that the name originated
from this piece of wit of Dean Swift's. Now I learnt, for the first
time, that the English king, court and nation, taken collectively,
were characterized under the name of _John Bull_; and that of France
under the name of _Louis Baboon_; and that of the Dutch of _Nick
Frog_; and that of Spain under _Lord Strut_; that the church of
England was called _John's mother_; the parliament his WIFE; and
Scotland his poor, ill-treated, raw-boned, mangy _Sister Peg_. While I
was shaking my sides at the comical characteristical painting of the
witty Dean of St. Patrick, the Frenchmen would come around me to know
what the book contained, which so much tickled my fancy; they thought
it was an obscene book, and wished some one to translate it to them:
but all they could get out of me was the words "_John Bull_ and _Louis
Baboon_!"
It is now the 30th of November, a month celebrated to a proverb in
England, for its gloominess. We have had a troubled sky and foggy for
several weeks past. The pleasant prospect of the surrounding shores
has been obscured a great portion of this month. The countenances of
our companions partake of our dismal atmosphere. It has even sobered
our Frenchmen; they do not sing and caper as usual; nor do they swing
their arms about, and talk with strong emphasis of every trifle. The
thoughts of home obtrude upon us; and we feel as the poor Jews felt on
the banks of the Euphrates, when their task-masters and prison-keepers
insisted upon their singing a song. We all hung up our fiddles, as the
Jews did their harps, and sat about, here and there, like barn-door
fowls, when molting.
Our captivity on the banks of the river _Medway_, bordered with
willows, brought to my mind the plaintive song of the children of
Israel, in captivity on the banks of the river _Euphrates_, which
psalm, among others, I used to sing with my mother and sisters, on
Sunday evenings, when an innocent boy, and long before the wild notion
of rambling, from a comfortable and plentiful home, came into my head.
It is the 137th Psalm, Tate and Brady's version.
When we our weary limbs to rest
Sat down by proud Euphrates' stream,
We wept, with doleful thoughts opprest,
And _Salem_ was our mournful theme.
Our harps, that, when with joy we sung,
Were wont their tuneful parts to bear,
With silent strings, neglected hung,
On willow trees, that wither'd there.
Meanwhile our foes, who all conspir'd
To triumph in our slavish wrongs,
Music and mirth of us requir'd,
"Come, sing us one of Zion's songs."
How shall we tune our voice to sing?
Or touch our harps with skilful hands?
Shall hymns of joy to GOD, OUR KING,
Be sung by slaves in foreign lands?
O, SALEM! Our once happy seat,
When I of thee forgetful prove,
Let then my trembling hand forget
The speaking strings with art to move!
If I, to mention thee, forbear,
Eternal silence seize my tongue!
Or if I sing one cheerful air,
Till my _deliv'rance_ is my song.