It is now the last day of the year 1813; and we live pretty
comfortably. Prisoners of war, confined in an old man-of-war hulk,
must not expect to sleep on beds of down; or to fare sumptuously every
day, as if we were at home with our indulgent mothers and sisters. All
things taken into consideration, I believe we are nearly as well
treated here, in the river Medway, as the British prisoners are in
Salem or Boston; not quite so well fed with fresh meat, and a variety
of vegetables, because this country does not admit of it. We
nevertheless do suffer as we did at Halifax; and above all, we
suffered on board the floating dungeons, the transports, and
store-ship Malabar, beyond expression.
All the Frenchmen are sent out of the ship, excepting about forty
officers; and these are all gamblers, ready and willing, and able to
fleece us all, had we ever so much money. I wonder that the
prison-ship-police has not put down this infamous practice. It is a
fomenter of almost all the evil passions; of those particularly which
do the least honor to the human heart. Our domestic faction have
uttered a deal of nonsense about a _French influence_ in America.--By
what I have observed here, I never can believe that the French will
ever have any influence to speak of, in the United States. We never
agreed with them but in one point, and that was in our hatred to the
English. There we united cordially; there we could fight at the same
gun; and there we could mingle our blood together. The English may
thank themselves for this. They, with their friends and allies, the
_Algerines_ and the _Savages_ of our own wilderness, have made a
breach in that great Christian family, whose native language was the
English; which is every year growing wider and wider.
_January, 1814._--We take two or three London newspapers, and through
them know a little what is going forward in the world. We find by them
that Joanna Southcote, and Molenaux, the black bruiser, engross the
attention of the most respectable portion of _John Bull's family_. Not
only the British officers, but the ladies wear the orange colored
cockade, in honor of the Prince of Orange, because the Dutch have
taken Holland. The yellow, or orange color, is all the rage; it has
been even extended to the clothing of the prisoners. Our sailors say
that it is because we are under the command of a _yellow Admiral_, or
at least a _yellow Commodore_, which is about the same thing.
About this time there came on board of us a recruiting sergeant, to
try to enlist some of our men in the service of the Prince Regent. He
offered us sixteen guineas; but he met with no success. Some of them
"_bored_" him pretty well. We had a very good will to throw the slave
overboard; but as we dare not, we contented ourselves with telling him
what a flogging the Yankees would give him and his platoon, when they
got over to America.
About five hundred prisoners have recently arrived in this "_reach_,"
from Halifax. There are between one hundred and fifty and two hundred
of Colonel Boestler's men, who were deceived, decoyed, and captured
near Beaver Dams, on the twenty-third of June, 1813. These men were
principally from Pennsylvania and Maryland. It is difficult to
describe their wretched appearance; and as difficult to narrate their
suffering on the passage, without getting into a rage, inconsistent
with the character of an impartial journalist.
To the everlasting disgrace of the British government, and of a
British man of war, be it known, that these miserable victims to
hardheartedness, were crowded together in the _black hole_ of a ship,
as we were, just like sheep in a sheep-fold. They allowed but two to
come upon deck at a time. They were covered with nastiness, and
overrun with vermin; for these poor creatures were not allowed to wash
their clothes, or themselves. O, how my soul did abhor the English,
when I saw these poor soldiers! It is no wonder that people who only
see and judge of the Americans by the prisoners, that they conceive us
to be a horde of savages. They see us while prisoners, in the most
degraded and odious light that we ever before saw or felt ourselves
in. I can easily conceive how bad and scanty food, dirt, vermin, and a
slow chronical disease, or low spirits, may change the temper and
character of large bodies of men. I would advise all my countrymen,
should it ever be their hard lot to be again in British bondage, to
exert themselves to appear as clean and smart in their persons, as
their situation will possibly admit. That I may not be accused of
pronouncing the English a cruel people, without proving my assertions,
I will here ask my reader to have recourse to the speech of _Sir
Robert Heron_, made in Parliament, in April, 1816, where he recites
the treatment of the poor in the alms-houses at Lincoln. After a
painful recital of the miserable state of the work-house in that city,
he mentioned "that there were five cells strongly guarded with iron
bolts, not for the reception, of lunatics, but for the punishment of
such _poor persons_ as might fall into any transgression. In each of
these were strong iron staples in the wall and floor, to which the
_poor_ delinquent was _chained_. Among several instances of cruelty,
the worthy Baronet mentioned that a Chelsea pensioner, _seventy years
of age_, and _totally blind_, had been for a _whole fortnight chained
to the floor_, because he had been drunk! That a very young girl,
having contracted a certain disease, had been chained in a similar
manner to the floor, lest she should contaminate others. Would it be
believed, said Sir Robert to the House, that _one chain fixed round
her body, had been weighed, and was found no less than twenty-eight
pounds weight_!"--From what I have heard of the generous turn of the
_Prince Regent_, his sympathetic heart would be moved to compassion
for these two frail mortals, the one very old, the other very young.
But what are we to think of his master, the magnanimous _John Bull_? I
believe a soldier feels more of the martial spirit when in uniform,
than in a loose drab coat. The same feeling may extend to a judge in
his robes, and to a parson in his gown. They all may feel braver, more
consciencious, and pious, for this "outward and visible sign," of what
the inward ought to be.
These poor soldiers were, of all men among us, the most miserable;
they had suffered greatly for want of good and _sufficient food_; as
six of them had to feed on that quantity which the British allowed to
four of their own men. By what we could gather, the most barbarous,
the most unfeeling neglect, and actual ill treatment, was experienced
on board the _Nemesis_. This ship seems, like the Malabar, to be
damned to everlasting reproach. I forgot to enquire whether her
Captain and her Surgeon were Scotchmen.
We turn with disgust and resentment from such ships as the Regulus,
the Malabar, and the Nemesis, and mention with pleasure the
_Poictiers_, of 74 guns. The captain and officers of this ship behaved
to the prisoners she brought, with the same kindness and humanity, as
I presume the captain, officers and crew of an American man of war
would towards British prisoners. They considered our men as living,
sensitive beings, feeling the inconveniences of hunger and thirst, and
the pleasure of the gratifications of these instinctive appetites;
they seemed to consider, also, that we were rational beings; and it is
possible they may have suspected that some of us might have had our
rational and improvable faculty increased by education; they might,
moreover, have thought we had, like them, the powers of reminescence,
and the same dispositions to revenge; or they might not have thought
much on the subject, but acted from their own generous and humane
feelings. I wish it were in my power to record the names of the
officers of the _Poictiers_. Of this ship we can remark, that she had
long been on the American station; long enough to know the American
character, and to respect it. Her officers had a noble specimen of
American bravery and humanity, when the American sloop Wasp took the
British sloop Frolic, and both were soon after taken by the Poictiers.
The humane, and we dare say, brave _Capt. Beresford_, has the homage
of respect for his proper line of conduct towards those Americans whom
the fortune of war put under his command. We drank the healths, in the
best beer we could get, of the captain, officers and crew, of his
Britannic Majesty's line of battle ship, _Poictiers_.
That we may not be thought to accuse the British of barbarity without
proof, we shall give an instance of their shocking inhumanity towards
the inhabitants of Canada, in the year 1759, when their army was under
the command of a _Wolfe_, extracted from Knox's historical journal of
the British campaign in Canada, p. 322, vol. 1st, dedicated by
permission to Gen. Anchers. "Yesterday Capt. Starks brought in two
prisoners, one of them a lad of fifteen years of age, the other a man
of forty, who was very sullen, and who would not answer any questions.
This officer also took two male children, and, as he and his party
were returning, they saw themselves closely pursued by a much superior
body, some of whom were Indians, (_probably the father and mother of
the young children, and other relatives, and a few humane
Indians_)--he wished to be freed from the children, as, by their
innocent cries and screeches, they directed the pursuers where to
follow. Capt. Stark's lieutenant made many signs to them to go away
and leave him, but they not understanding him, still redoubled their
lamentations, and finding them hard pressed, he gave orders that the
infants should be taken aside and KILLED, which was done"!!!--What is
the reason this diabolical barbarity was never before condemned in
print? The reason is plain--_they were the children of Frenchmen_.
This shocking deed was perpetrated by the officers of General Wolfe's
army, and published by one of his captains, under the sanction of Lord
Amherst!
It may be tedious to our readers, especially if they be British, but
we cannot yet leave the subject of the inhuman treatment of the
American prisoners of war, while on their passage from Halifax to
Chatham. The condition of the soldiers was the most deplorable. Some
of these men were born in the interior, and had never seen the salt
ocean; they enlisted in Boestler's regiment, and were taken by the
British and Indians, somewhere between fort George and York, the
capital of Upper Canada. They were pretty much stripped of their
clothing, soon after they were taken, and their march to Montreal was
conducted with very little regard to their feelings; but when sick,
they were well attended to by the medical men of the enemy; their
passage from Quebec to Halifax, down the river St. Lawrence, was
_barbarous_. They suffered for victuals, clothes, and every other
conveniency. The men say that they had more instances of real kindness
from the Indians, than from the British. But on their passage across
the Atlantic, their situation was horrible, as may be well supposed,
when it is considered that these soldiers had never been at sea, and
of course could not shift, and _shirk_ about, as the sailors call it,
as could the seamen; they were of course, sea sick; and were
continually groping and tumbling about in the dark prison of a ship's
hold. They suffered a double portion of misery compared with the
sailors, to whom the rolling of the ship in a gale of wind, and the
stench of bilge-water, were matters of no grievance; but were serious
evils to these landsmen, who were constantly treading upon, or running
against, and tumbling over each other. Many of them were weary of
their lives; and some layed down dejected in despair, hoping never to
rise again. Disheartened, and of course sick, these young men became
negligent of their persons, not caring whether they ever added another
day to their wretched existence; so that when they came on board the
prison ship, they were loathsome objects of disgust. A mother could
not have known her own son; nor a sister her brother, disguised and
half consumed as they were, with a variety of wretchedness. They were
half naked, and it was now the middle of winter, and within _thirty_
miles of London, in the _nineteenth_ century; an era famous for _bible
societies_, for _missionary_ and _humane_ societies, and for all proud
boastings of Christian and evangelical virtue; under the reign of a
king and prince, renowned for their liberality and magnanimity towards
_French_ catholics; (but not _Irish_ ones,) and towards _Ferdinand_
the bigot, his holiness the _Pope_, and the venerable institution of
the _holy Inquisition_. Alas! poor old _John Bull_! though art in thy
dotage, with thy thousand ships in the great salt ocean; and thy half
a dozen _victorious ones_ in the Serpentine River, alias the splendid
gutter, dug out in Hyde Park, for the amusement of British children
six feet high! Can the world wonder that AMERICA, in her present age
of chivalry, should knock over these doating old fellows, and make
them the derision of the universe?
I can no otherwise account for this base treatment of the Americans,
than by supposing that the British government had concluded in the
summer and autumn of 1813, that America could not stand the tug of war
with England; that MADISON was unpopular; and that the federalists, or
_British faction_ in America, were prevailing, especially in
New-England; and that, being sure of conquest, they should commence
the subjugation of the UNITED STATES by degrading its soldiery and
seamen; as they have the brave Irish.--They may have been led into
this error by our _federal_ newspapers, which are generally vehicles
of misinformation. The faction may impede, and embarrass for a time;
but they never can long confine the nervous arm of the American
Hercules.
Candor influences me to confess, that there were more attempts than
one, to rise and take these men of war transports. I find that several
experiments were made, but that they were always betrayed, by some
Englishman, or Irishman, that had crept into American citizenship. I
hope the time is not far off, when we shall reject from our service
every man not known absolutely to have been born in the United States.
Whenever these foreigners get drunk, they betray their partiality to
their own country, and their dislike of ours. I hope our navy never
will be disgraced or endangered by these renegadoes. Every man is more
or less a villain, who fights against his own country. The Irish are
so ill treated at home, that it is no wonder that they quit their
native soil, for a land of more liberty and, plenty; and they are
often faithful to the country that adopts them; but never trust an
Englishman, and above all a _Scotchman_. It is a happy circumstance
that America wants neither. She had rather have one English
manufacturer than an hundred English sailors. We labor under the
inconvenience of speaking the same language with the enemies of our
rising greatness. I know by my own personal experience, that English
books, published since our revolutionary war, have a pernicious
tendency in anglifying the American character. I have been amused in
listening to the wrangling conversation of an English, Irish and
American sailor, when all three were half drunk; and this was very
often the case during this month of January, as many of our men who
had been in the British naval service, received payment from
government; and this filled our abode with noise, riot, confusion,
and sometimes fighting. The day was spent in gambling, and the night
in drunkenness; for now all would attempt to forget their misery, and
steep their senses in forgetfulness. The French officers among us,
seldom indulged in drinking to excess. Our men said they kept sober in
order to strip the boozy sailor of his money, by gambling.
While the Frenchmen keep sober, the American and English sailor would
indulge in their favorite grog. In this respect, I see no difference
between English and American. Over the can of grog, the English tar
forgets all his hardships and his slavery--yes, _slavery_; for where
is there a greater slavery among white men, than that of impressed
Englishmen on board of one of their own men of war? The American, over
his grog, seems equally happy, and equally forgetful of his harsh
treatment. The Englishman, when his skin, is full of grog, glows with
idolatry for his country, and his favorite lass; and so does the
American: The former sings the victories of Bembow, How, Jervase and
Nelson; while the latter sing the same songs, only substituting the
names of Preble, Hull, Decatur and Bainbridge, Perry and Macdonough.
Our men parodied all the English national songs.--"_Rule Britannia,
rule the waves_," was "_Rule Columbia_," &c. "_God save great George,
our King_," was sung by our boys, "_God save great Madison_;" for
every thing like federalism was banished from our hearts and ears;
whatever we were before, we were all staunch _Madisonians_ in a
foreign land. The two great and ruling passions among the British
sailors and the American sailors, seemed, precisely the same, viz.
_love of their country_, and _love of the fair sex_. These two
subjects alone entered into all their songs, and seemed to be the only
dear objects of their souls, when half drunk. On these two strings
hang all our nation's glory; while, to my surprize, I found, or
thought I found, that the love of money was that string which vibrated
oftenest in a Frenchman's heart; but I may be mistaken; all the nation
may not be gamblers.--Remember, politicians, philosophers, admirals,
and generals, that _Love_ and _Patriotism_ are the two, and I almost
said, the only two passions of that class of men, who are destined to
carry your flag in triumph abound the terraqueous globe, by skillfully
controlling the powers of the winds, and of _vapor_.
One word more, before I quit this national trait. The English naval
muse, which I presume must be a Mermaid, half woman and half fish,
has, by her simple and half the time, nonsensical songs, done more
for the British flag than all her _gunnery_, or naval discipline and
tactics. This inspiration of the _tenth_ muse, with libations of
_grog_, have actually made the English believe they were invincible on
the ocean, and, what is still more extraordinary, the French and
Spaniards were made to believe it also. This belief constituted a
_magical circle_, that secured their ships from destruction, until two
American youths, _Isaac Hull_, from Connecticut, and _Oliver H.
Perry_, from Rhode Island, broke this spell by the thunder of their
cannon, and annihilated the delusion. Is not this business of
_national songs_ a subject of some importance? _Love_ and
_Patriotism_, daring amplification, with here and there a dash of the
supernatural, are all that is requisite in forming this national band
of naval music. We all know that "_Yankee Doodle_," is the favorite
national tune of America, although it commenced with the British
officers and Tories, in derision, in the year 1775. When that
animating tune is struck up in our Theatres, it electrifies the pit
and the upper galleries. When our soldiers are marching to that tune,
they "tread the air." "With that tune," said general M----, the same
gallant officer, who took nine pieces of cannon from the British,
planted on an eminence, at the battle of Bridgewater--"_with that tune
these fellows would follow me into hell, and pull the devil by the
nose_." For want of native compositions, we had sung British songs
until we had imbibed their spirit, and the feelings and sentiments
imbibed in our youth, are apt to stick to us through life. It is high
time we had new songs put in our mouths.
Unless we attend to the effects of these early impressions, it is
almost incredible, the number of false notions that we imbibe, and
carry to our graves. A considerable party in the United States have
sung Nelson's victories, until those victories seemed to be their own.
Even on the day of the celebration of the Peace, the following Ode was
sung in the hall of the _University of Cambridge_--a captain and a
lieutenant of the navy being among the invited guests. It was written
by the son of the keeper of the States Prison, in Massachusetts.
_ODE, &c._
COLUMBIA and BRITANNIA
Have ceased from Warfare wild;
No more in battle's rage they meet,
The parent and the _child_.
Each gallant nation now lament
The heroes who have died.
_But the brave, on the wave,
Shall yet in friendship ride,
To bear BRITANNIA'S ancient name,
And swell COLUMBIA'S pride._
The flag-staff of COLUMBIA
Shall be her mountain Pine;
Her Commerce on the foaming sea
Shall be her golden mine.
Her wealth from every nation borne,
Shall swell the ocean wide,
_And the brave, on the wave_, &c. &c.
To Britain's _Faith_ and _Prowess_,
Shall distant nations bow,
The _Cross_ upon her topmast head,
The _Lion_ at her prow.
No haughty foe shall dare insult,
No _Infidel_ deride;
_For the brave, on the wave_, &c. &c.
For now the _kindred_ nations
Shall wage the fight no more;
No more in dreadful thunder dash
The billows to the shore:
Save when in firm _alliance_ bound
Some common foe defied;
_Then the brave, on the wave_, &c. &c.
This captivity in a foreign land, has been to me a season of
thoughtfulness. Sometimes I thought I was like a despised Jew, among
the sons of the modern Babylon, which I might have sunk under, but for
the first principles of a serious education; for I was born and
educated in the state of Massachusetts, near an hundred miles from
Boston. The subject of education has greatly occupied my mind, and I
rejoiced that I was born in that part of the United States, where it
is most attended to. It is an injury to our national character, that
most of the books we read in early life, were written by _Englishmen_;
as with their knowledge we imbibe their _narrow_ prejudices. The
present war, has, in a degree, corrected this evil; but time alone can
effect all we wish.
A dispute arose between us and our commander, relative to the article
of bread, which served to show Englishmen how tenacious we, Americans,
are on what we consider to be our rights.
Whenever the contractor omitted to send us off soft bread, provided
the weather did not forbid, the said contractor forfeited half a pound
of bread to each man. The prisoners were not acquainted with this
rule, until they were informed of it by the worthy captain Hutchinson;
and they determined to enforce the regulation on the next act of
delinquency of the contractor. This opportunity soon occurred. He
omitted to send us off soft bread in fair weather; our commander, Mr.
O. thereupon ordered us to be served with hard ship bread. This we
declined accepting, and contended that the contractor was bound to
send us off the soft bread, with an additional half pound, which he
forfeited to us for his breach of punctuality. Now the contractor had
again and again incurred this forfeiture, which went into Mr. O's
pocket, instead of our stomachs, and this mal-practice we were
resolved to correct. Our commander then swore from the teeth outwards,
that if we refused his hard bread, we should have none; and we swore
from the teeth, inwardly, that we would adhere to our first
declaration, and maintain our rights. Finding us obstinate, he ordered
us all to be driven into the pound by the marines, and the ladder
drawn up. Some of the prisoners, rather imprudently, cast some
reflections on Mr. O. and his family; in consequence of which, he
ordered us all to be driven below, and the hatches closed upon us; and
he represented to the commodore that the prisoners were in a state of
mutiny. He was so alarmed that he sent the female part of his family
on shore for safety, and requested a reinforcement of marines. At the
same time we made a representation to the commodore, and stated our
grievances, in our own way, and we demanded the extra half pound of
soft bread, forfeited by the contractor. In all this business we were
as fierce and as stubborn, and talked as big as a combination of
collegians, to redress bad commons. We remained in this situation two
days; one from each mess going on deck for a supply of water, was all
the intercourse we had with our superiors. During all this time, we
found we had got hold of the heaviest end of the timber. We found it
very hard contending against increasing hunger, and should have been
very glad of a few hard biscuit. Some began to grow slack in their
resistance; and even the most obstinate allowed their ire to cool a
little. To lay such an embargo on our own bowels was, be sure, a
pretty tough piece of self-denial; for we found; in all our
sufferings, that bread was, the staff of life. We were about taking
the general opinion by a vote, whether it was best to eat hard
biscuit, or starve? Just as we were about taking this important vote,
in which, I suspect, we should have been unanimous, the commodore and
Capt. Hutchinson came on board to inquire into the cause of the
dispute; and this lucky, and well timed visit, saved our credit; and
established the Yankee character for inflexibility, beyond all doubt
or controversy. These two worthy gentlemen soon discovered that Mr. O.
had made representations not altogether correct. They therefore
ordered the hatches to be taken off, and proper bread to be served
out, and so the dispute ended.
What added to our present satisfaction was, that _Mr. my Lord Beasly_
was to allow us two pence half penny sterling per day, for coffee,
tobacco, &c. We now, to use the sailor's own expressive phrase, looked
up one or two points nearer the wind than ever.
That Mr. O. had been in the royal navy from his infancy, and now, at
the age of forty five, ranks no higher than a lieutenant. He once
commanded a sloop, and had the character of severity. He had an
amiable wife and many children, who lived in the prison ship. Lieut.
O. was not the wisest man in all England. He exercised his cunning, it
was said, in making money out of his station; but he was under the
immediate control of two _honorable_ gentlemen, otherwise, it is
probable, we should have felt more instances of his revenge than he
dared, at all times, show.