CHAPTER VIII.

The month of April, which is just past, is like our April in New

England, raw, cold, or as the English call it, _sour_.--But their

month of May, which is now arrived, is pleasanter by far, than ours.

By all that I can observe, I conclude that the vernal season of this

part of the Island of Britain, is full fifteen days, if not twenty,

earlier than that of Boston. I conjecture that this spot corresponds

with Philadelphia.

The Medway, though a small river in the eyes of an inhabitant of the

new world, is a very pleasant one. The moveable picture on its

surface, of ships, tenders, and barges, is very pleasing, while its

banks are rich and beautiful.--Oh, what a contrast to horrid Nova

Scotia, with her barren hills, and everlasting bleak mountains!--The

picture from the banks of the river to the top of the landscape, is

truly delightful, and beyond any thing I ever saw in my own country;

and this is owing to the hedges, which are novelties in the eyes of an

American. In our country, the fields, meadows and pastures are divided

by stone walls, or the rough post-and-rail fence; but here their

fields, pastures and enclosures, which are very small, compared with

ours, are made by hedges, or living growing vegetables, of a deep and

most beautiful green. It gives a richness to the English landscape,

beyond all expression fine. How happens it, I wonder, that hedges have

never been introduced into _New_ England, who has copied so closely

every thing belonging to _Old_ England? Should I ever be permitted to

leave this Babylonish captivity, and be allowed once more to see our

own Canaan, the enclosures of hedge shall not be forgotten.

Nearly opposite our doleful prison stands the village of _Gillingham_,

adorned with a handsome church; on the side next _Chatham_, stands the

castle, defended by more than an hundred cannon. These fortifications

were erected soon after the Dutch republicans sailed up to Chatham,

and singed John Bull's beard; since which it is said, he changes

countenance at the name of a republic, or republican. We are told in

the history of Gillingham, that here, the famous Earl Goodwin murdered

six hundred Norman gentlemen, belonging to the retinue of Prince

Alfred. But some such shocking story is told of almost every town in

England that has an old castle, an old tower, or an old cathedral.

This village once belonged to an Archbishop of Canterbury, vestiges of

whose palace are yet to be seen. This place is also noted for making

what is absurdly called _copperas_, which is the chrystalized salt of

iron, or what is called in the new chemical nomenclature _sulphate of

iron_; or in common parlance, _green vitriol_; which is manufactured,

and found native in our own country, in immeasurable quantity.

Near this village of Gillingham, is a neat house, with a good garden,

and surrounded by trees, which was bequeathed by a lady to the oldest

boatswain in the Royal Navy.--The present incumbent is eighty years of

age. Within our view is a shepherd attending his flock, with his

canine lieutenants, who drive them into their pen in the evening, as

our shepherds do us on board the Crown Prince. In a clear day the

masts of the ships can be seen passing up and down the Thames. This

brings to our minds our own gallant ships, whose decks we long, once

more, to tread.

The Britons pursue a malignant policy, in confining us in a loathsome

prison. The Britons know, probably, that a long and lingering

imprisonment weakens the body, and diminishes the energy of the mind;

that it disposes to vice, to a looseness of thought, and a destruction

of those moral principles inculcated by a careful and early

education.--Such a sink of vice I never saw, nor ever dreamt of, as I

have seen here. Never was a juster saying than this;--"_Evil

communications corrupt good manners._" One vicious fellow may corrupt

an hundred, even if he speak another language. I have been thoroughly

convinced of the wisdom of _solitary_ imprisonment. By what I have

seen and heard in this ship, where there are generally from seven to

nine hundred men, I am convinced that such collections are so many

hot-beds of vice and villany. It is a college of Satan, where degrees

of wickedness are conferred _e merito_. Here we have freshmen,

sophomores, juniors, and seniors, in roguery, together with Bachelors,

Masters of Arts, and Doctors.

Is it not a shame and a disgrace to a Christian nation, that, because

a man has had the virtue to step forward in the cause of his country,

in the cause of "free trade and sailors' rights," or from that glow of

chivalry that fills a youthful bosom, or the sound of the warlike drum

and trumpet, and the sight of the waving flag of his insulted country;

is it not a shame that such a young man of pure morals and careful

education, should be plunged into such an horrid prison as this? amid

vice, and roguery, and every thing else, debasing to the character of

so moral a people as the Americans really are?

The prisoners and the commander had lived in pretty good harmony,

until very lately. Some of our men had absolutely cut a hole through

the ship, near her stern, and cut the copper all round the hole,

excepting at the under side, which enabled them to bend down the

copper at their pleasure, and open a passage into the water, and to

re-close it in such a manner as to escape detection. It was effected

with a great deal of art and good management, with tools which we had

procured, and cunningly concealed.

The first dark night after this newly contrived stern-port was

finished, sixteen of the prisoners passed through it into the water,

and swam safely on shore, notwithstanding a sentinel was stationed

directly above the hole. They took care, however, to allure him as far

forward as they could, by singing droll songs, and handing about some

grog, which had been provided for that purpose. Sixteen was thought to

be as great a number as could be prudently ventured to escape at once.

One night the copper, which operated like a door upon its hinge, was

considerably ruptured, and the prisoners gave over the attempt, and

retired to their hammocks again.

The next evening the prisoners were to be counted; and it was of the

first importance to keep up the entire number, and prevent the

detection of our plot. To this end we cut a hole through one deck, big

enough for one man to pass from one enclosure of prisoners to the

other. There was always a number of prisoners left on each deck, who

were counted by the sergeant below; while the sergeant passed from the

lower deck to the next above it, sixteen men slipped through the hole,

and were counted over again; and this deception kept the numbers good,

and this trick was practised several times with success. The nights

were now too light for a second attempt to escape. When they became

sufficiently dark again, we prepared for a second attempt. After

drawing lots for the chance, each man was provided with a little bag

of clothes, plaistered over with grease, to keep them water-tight;

they then passed agreeably to lots drawn, to the hole near the stern

of the ship.--Two got well into the water, but one of them was tender

and timid. Trepidation and the coldness of the water made him turn

back to regain the hole he crept out of. In coming near the staging

where the sentinel was posted, he heard the poor fellow breathe, and

at length got sight of him;--"Ah," says Paddy, "here is a porpoise,

and I'll stick him with my bayonet." On which the terrified young man

exclaimed--"don't kill me, I am a prisoner." The sentinel held out his

hand, and helped him on to the staging, and then fired his gun to give

the alarm. The guard turned out, and the officers ran down in a

fright, not being able to conceive how the man could have got

overboard, surrounded with a platform, and guarded as this ship

was.--They ran here and there, and questioned, and threatened and

rummaged about; at length they discovered the sally port of the enemy.

The officers stood in astonishment at the sight of a hole big enough

for a man to creep out, cut through the thick planking of a ship of

the line! While they stared and looked pale, many of the prisoners

burst out a laughing. None but an American could have thought, and

executed such a thing as this. One of the officers said he did not

believe that the Devil himself would ever be able to keep these

fellows in hell, if they determined on getting out.

The poor fellow who had crept out, and crept back again, was so

chilled, or petrified with fear, that he could give the officers no

account of the matter. In the mean time, muskets were fired; and a

general alarm given through the fleet of prison ships, fifteen in

number. The river was soon covered with boats; but not a man could

they find. The next day the man who escaped was found dead on the

beach, where he lay two days in the sight of us all. At length a

coroner's inquest was held upon him; but no one was examined by the

jury, excepting the crew of the boat, who first discovered him. It was

said that there were bruises about his head. His ship-mates said, that

he was one of the best swimmers they ever knew. It was strongly

suspected that he was discovered swimming, and that some of the

marines knocked him on the head, in revenge for turning them out of

their hammocks in the night. His clothing, his money, and his watch,

were taken by lieutenant _Osmore_, the commander of this prison ship.

It was disgraceful to the civil authority, to allow the man to lay

such a long space of time, unexamined, and unburied, on the shores of

a Christian people.

When the prisoners were called to answer to their names, those absent

were called over several times; when some of the prisoners answered,

that "the absentees had been paroled by the commander, and gone on

shore." This saucy answer enraged the commander, excited his

resentment, and laid the foundation for future difficulties.

I must needs say, that some of our young men treated Mr. Osmore, the

first officer of this prison ship, in a manner not to be excused, or

even palliated. If they did not love him, or esteem him, still, as he

was the legally constituted commander of this depot of prisoners, he

was entitled to good manners, which he did not always receive, as the

following anecdote will show. Not long after the escape of the sixteen

men, our commander and his family were getting into the boat to go on

shore, on a Sunday, when a boy looked out of a port near to him, and

cried out _baa! baa!_ This, Mr. Osmore took as an insult, and ordered

the port to be shut down; but the messes that were accommodated by the

light from it, forced it up again. Now the origin of this ludicrous

and sheep-like interjection was this: a story was in circulation, that

lieutenant O. had taken slyly some sheep from the neighboring marshes,

without leave or license, and converted them to his own use; and that

the owner being about to prosecute him, the affair was made up, by the

interposition of friends, on compensation being made. Now it is

probable that there was not a word of truth in this story; but that

was the report. The commander, therefore, on finding his orders

resisted by the prisoners, directed some marines to shut the port, and

confine it down with spikes; and ordered the sentinel to fire into the

port if they forced it open again. Upon this, some of the prisoners

tore up a large oaken bench, with which they forced open the port; and

kept the bench out, so as to keep up that valve, or heavy shutter,

sustained on hinges, which when down, closes the port hole, at the

same time the sheepish note of _baa! baa! baa!_ was uttered from every

part of the ship; sounding like an immense flock of sheep, that might

have been heard full a mile. Although none of us could help joining in

the loud laugh, for laughter is contagious, the most prudent of our

countrymen condemned the conduct as highly improper. It was said, if

one man is determined to insult another, let him do it, and abide the

consequences; but never insult a man in the presence of his family. If

we Americans are in the habit of ridiculing ribbands, and garters and

keys, and crowns and sceptres, and mitres, and high sounding titles,

let us never attempt to diminish the dignity of _patriarchal_ rank.

The riot did not end here; for when the commander found that he could

not keep the port entirely shut, he ordered the marines to drive the

prisoners off the forecastle down into the pound, which occasioned the

boys to sing out as before; and even to be more insulting. This he was

determined to bear no longer; and he therefore drove them all below,

allowing only the cooks to remain in the galley, and the caterers to

go upon deck, to get water from the tanks. The market boats were

forbidden to come near us; and in this state of embargo we remained

during two days, all the time confined merely to the government

allowance of food. At length, the committee requested the commander to

transmit some letters for them to the American agent for prisoners,

and to the British commodore. This he could not well refuse. These two

officers accordingly came down to us. They requested the president of

the committee to state to them the cause and course of the dispute.

Mr. _Osmore_ stated his complaint, and the president of our committee

replied, and stated ours; and among other things, observed that the

word "_baa_," had no more meaning than a thousand other senseless

cries, uttering constantly from the throats of idle, thoughtless boys;

and begged Mr. Osmore to explain how such an unmeaning sound could be

construed into an insult to him; that if he and his officers should

cry _baa! baa! baa!_ all day, none of the Americans would think

themselves injured or affronted. As to forcibly keeping the port open,

the president observed, that however offended he might be, with a

saucy boy, the men did not deserve to be deprived of the light of

heaven, and to be confined below, and reduced to a smaller allowance

of food. The result was, the hatches were ordered to be taken off; and

we were all restored to our former situation. Capt. Hutchinson

acquired an additional stock of popularity with the prisoners for this

decision in our favor. The prisoners are discriminating, and not

ungrateful. The sailing-master, who is a Scotchman, has always treated

us with great tenderness and humanity. He has attended to our little

conveniences; and forwarded our letters. Mr. Barnes never descends to

little contemptible extortions; nor is he on the continual watch, lest

his dignity should suffer by a look, a tone, or a playful

interjection. When Osmore is absent, and Barnes gives orders, they are

instantly and cheerfully obeyed. If there is any disorder, this worthy

Scotchman can, by a word, restore harmony, of which we might give many

instances. In reprimanding a boy, the other day, for ill behavior, he

said to him, "I expect better things of you as an American; I consider

you all in a different light from that of a d--d set of French

monkies."

Mr. Galbreath is, likewise, a Scotchman; and he, too, is a very worthy

man. These two worthy Caledonians operate together in alleviating our

hard lot; and they do as much to please us, as the jealous and

revengeful disposition of some body else will admit of. We are all

pretty healthy, and the hospital arrangements on board are broken

up.--Some few remain on board the hospital ship.

Tenders are daily passing down the river, filled with seamen and

marines, bound to America. As they pass by us, they play "_Yankee

Doodle_," and cry out to us, that they are bound to America, to flog

the Yankees. We hollow to them, in return, and tell them what they

will meet there, and predict to them their fate. Some of these fellows

have been seven years at sea; and would desert to our colors the first

opportunity. These white slaves expected to enjoy a little something

like freedom, at the conclusion of the peace; but instead of setting

their feet on shore, they are now sent off to leave their bones in

America, without a moment's previous notice of their destination.

_June 30th, 1814._ Early in this month three men concealed themselves

in the water-tank, through the connivance of the corporal of the

guard; and so escaped from prison. More would have gone off by the

same conveyance, had not one of the fugitives written an ironical

letter to the commander, thanking him for his tenderness, humanity and

extreme kindness, and foolishly acquainting him with the method he

took to effect his escape; and this led to his recapture. Another

fellow had the address to conceal himself in an old worn out copper

that was sent to the dock to be exchanged for a new one. This man got

safe out of the copper, but he found himself as bad off in the dock as

in the prison ship. After roving and rambling about the dock, he was

taken up by the guard, and rather than be sent on board a man of war,

he confessed he had broken out of the prison ship; and he was

immediately brought back to his former companions.

A rage exists for cutting holes through the wood work and copper of

the ship; but no one has succeeded in escaping through them; neither

have the enemy succeeded in their search after our tools. The holes

were always discovered as the men were ready to enter the breach,

which led us to suspect that we have secret informers among our crew,

perhaps some Irish, Dane, or Dutchman.

A most daring attempt to escape was made on board the commodore's

ship, the _Irresistible_, by four American prisoners. It is worth

relating for its boldness; for it was in the open day, when all eyes

were upon them. The jolly-boat lay near the stairs, with her oars in,

under the care of a sentry. Notwithstanding she was thus guarded, four

brave Americans resolved to seize her in spite of musketry, and row on

shore, and run for it. One of them was from Rhode Island, being an

Indian of the Narraganset tribe; he was a man of large stature and

remarkable strength; and it was agreed that he should lead the way, in

the bold enterprize. This stout man, whose name I wish I could

remember, saw, as he thought, a favorable moment, and went down the

side of the ship, followed by three others; he seized the sentry, and,

in a moment, disarmed him, and threw him into the jolly-boat, which

was below the staging, where the sentinel was placed. He immediately

jumped in after him, the other three closely followed him, when they

instantly pushed off, snatched up the oars, and rowed direct for the

shore, with the agility of so many Nantucket-whalemen. The rapidity

and complete effect with which all this was done, was astonishing to

the British! They were, however, soon fired upon by all the sentries,

who had any chance of reaching them, from all the ships as they

passed. They got out their numerous boats with all speed; and placed

in the bow of each as many marines as could well stand; and these kept

up a continued fire of musketry upon the four fugitives in the

jolly-boat, ballasted with a British prisoner. Notwithstanding close

and heavy firing, they wounded but one of the four; so that three of

them were able to run for it when the boat reached the shore. As soon

as they sat foot on shore, they made directly for the fields. The

marines soon followed, firing every few moments upon them, but without

hitting them. Our men so completely distanced them, that we all

thought they would make their escape from his majesty's marines, and

they would have effected it, had not the country people poured out of

the farm-houses, and the brick-yards. In a few minutes the fields

appeared covered with people. They outran the marines, and pursued our

brave adventurers so closely from all points, that they exhausted them

of breath, and fairly run them down, all except the nervous Indian,

and he did honor to the Narraganset tribe, and his brave ancestors, so

renowned in New England history. We saw him from the Crown Prince

prison ship, skipping over the ground like a buck, and defying his

pursuers; but unfortunately for this son of the forest, he sprained

his ancle in leaping a fence, which compelled him to surrender;

otherwise he might have ran on to London, in fair chase, before they

could have come up with him.

While sitting on the ground, and unable to walk, by reason of his

dislocated bone, the country people approached him with caution. They

did not think it quite safe to come close up to a man of his

extraordinary stature, and commanding aspect. He was, however soon

surrounded by a large number of marines, who had the great honor of

recapturing a lame Indian, and conducting him back again to his

Britannic majesty's fleet of three deckers, at anchor off his royal

dock of Chatham!

We made several attempts to gain our liberty while lying in the river

Medway; but none of our daring feats equalled this of the Indian. We

gave him the name of _Baron Trenck_, and pronounced him his superior;

for he had to pass the fire of several ships; and the jolly-boat

appeared to be surrounded in a shower of shot, and yet only one man

was wounded in the leg. When the Indian had made the fields, and was

ascending the rising ground, all the prisoners in our ship gave him

three cheers. We cheered him as he came along back in the boat with

his comrades, and drank their healths in the first liquor we obtained.

It is for deeds of bravery, and indications of a commanding mind, and

superior strength, and agility of body, that our aboriginals in North

America, appoint their kings; and certainly there is more sense and

reason in it, than making the son a king because his father was king.

This Indian was, by nature, a commander.

Something of the same cool and daring character was conspicuous in the

master and crew of a very small New England schooner, in September

1759, when General Wolfe was investing Quebec by sea and land, and

when the army and fleet under admiral Holmes, were cannonading and

bombarding the city and numerous batteries of the French.

Amidst the grand movements of the army and navy, a schooner of the

most diminutive size, which the navigator after called "_the Terror of

France_," weighed her little anchor, and, to the astonishment of every

one, was seen sailing past the batteries, up to the city. The French

fired a great number of shot at her; nevertheless _Jonathan_ steered

steadily on, and got safe up, with her colors flying; and coming to

anchor in the upper river, she triumphantly saluted admiral Holmes

with a discharge from all her swivels. She met with no accident,

except one man being slightly wounded on board. During this, says

captain Knox, our batteries fired briskly on the town, to favor her as

she passed. While the officers and gunners were enraged at what they

deemed a contempt of their formidable batteries, other officers

apologized afterwards for firing at this diminutive vessel, which was

not much bigger than a man of war's launch, observing, that they

imagined her passing to be the result of a frolicsome wager. They

little thought that she was a New England trader, or rather huxter,

ladened with _notions_, such as apples, dried and green, apple-sauce,

onions, cheese, molasses, New England rum, and gingerbread, and a

number of little ditto's, suitable, as the skipper thought, for the

Quebec market, after it should have changed masters.

When the _Captain_ of this famous little schooner went on board the

British admiral, he enquired the name of his vessel. He replied, "_The

Terror of France_;" which was painted on her stern. How are you armed?

_We have four swivels, three muskets, and one cutlass, beside a broad

axe._ How many men have you? _We have three souls and a boy._--And

where does your vessel belong, _Captain_, when you are at home?

_Updike's Newtown._ And where is that, Sir? _Does not Admiral Holmes

know where Updike's Newtown is?_ says Jonathan, with a look of

surprize. I do not at this moment recollect, Sir. _Why Updike's

Newtown is half way betwixt Pautuxet and Connanicut._ The British

admiral did not choose to risk his reputation with this fearless

waterfowl, by asking him any more geographical questions.

We have dwelt on this ludicrous anecdote for the sake of one serious

remark. Capt. John Knox, of the 43d British regiment, whose Historical

Journal, in 2 volumes quarto, is dedicated to General Lord Amherst,

never once intimates that this courageous man was from New England,

but leaves the reader to infer that he and his "three souls and a

boy," were Englishmen. In this way have all the British writers

treated us Americans, although we all know in this country, that

Louisbourg was taken by New-England-men. Throughout the whole war of

1758, and 1759, the English strained their voices to magnify

themselves, and debase our character.

In this anecdote we see the first glimmerings of the New England

character, which defies all danger, in the pursuit of gain. Here we

see the characteristic marks of the _Yankee_, full twenty years before

that term was ever used. The greatest things were once in embryo.

These incipient germs will one day grow up to a naval and commercial

greatness, that will infallibly push into the back-ground the

conquerors of Quebec; and the spirit, which impelled and directed that

diminutive schooner in passing safely hundreds of heavy cannon, and

showers of bombs, may one day become not only the _terror of France_,

but of _England_ also. Great effects flow from trifling causes. It was

a woman's[H] love of finery that peopled New England.

It was, to be sure, an extraordinary sight, mixed with something of

the ludicrous, to see three white Americans, and one Indian, with a

disarmed British red coat under their feet, in the jolly-boat, not

daring to raise his head, while about thirty boats, with above 250

seamen, and nearly as many marines, were rowing, and puffing and

blowing, and firing and loading, and loading and firing at a small

boat, containing three American seamen and one Indian, without any

weapon or instrument, except the oars they rowed with! While the

British marines were ruffling the water around the flying boat with

their bullets, we, on board the prison ships, sensible of their

danger, felt as much interest, and probably more apprehension, than

the fugitives themselves.--It was an anxious period of hope, fear and

animating pride, which sometimes petrified us into silence, and then

caused us to rend the air with acclamations, and clapping of hands.

The Indian was, however, the hero of the piece. We saw, and admired

his energetic mind, his abhorrence of captivity, and his

_irresistible_ love of freedom. This fellow was not, probably, at all

below some of the Grecian captains, who went to the siege of Troy; and

he only wanted the advantages of education, and of modern discipline,

to have become a distinguished commander. The inspiring love of

liberty was all the theme, after the daring exploit of our countrymen;

and it made us uneasy, and stimulated us to contemplate similar acts

of hardihood. We had now become pretty nearly tired of cutting holes

through the ship's bottom and sides; for it was always detected, and

we were made to pay for repairing the damage out of our provisions.

After seeing what _four_ men could effect, our thoughts turned more

upon a general insurrection, than upon the partial escapes of a few.

We perceived, clearly enough, that our keepers dreaded our

enterprizing spirit; and we could discover that they knew we despised

them, and ridiculed them. Some of our saucy boys, studying arithmetic,

with their slates and pencils in their hands, would say out loud, as

if stating a sum, "_if it took 350 British seamen and marines to catch

four yankees, how many British sailors and marines would it take to

catch ten thousand of us?_"

We could perceive a general uneasiness throughout our ship; even our

good friend, Mr. ----, the worthy Scotchman, said to me, about this

time, "your countrymen are such a restless, daring set of beings, that

it is not safe to befriend you, and I wish you were all safe and happy

in your own country; and all of us at peace." A change of situation

was foretold; but of what kind, we know not.--The next chapter will

inform us all about it.

PART SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

In consequence of various attempts to escape prison, and of the late

daring enterprise at noon-day, the officers of this ignoble fleet of

prison ships grew very uneasy.--They, doubtless, felt that there was

neither honor nor pleasure, but much danger, in this sort of service.

It was often said among them, that they felt perfectly safe when they

had several thousand French prisoners under their charge. These lively

people passed their time in little ingenious manufactures, and in

gaming; and seemed to wait patiently until their day of liberation

should come; but these Americans, said they, are the most restless,

contriving set of men we ever saw; their amusement seems to be

contriving how to escape, and to plague their keepers. They seem to

take a pleasure in making us uneasy, and in exciting our apprehensions

of their escape; and then they laugh and make themselves merry at our

anxiety. One of the officers said, that the American prisoners "had

systematized the art of tormenting." There is a sort of mischievous

humor among our fellows, that is, at times, rather provoking, to

officers habituated to prompt obedience, and to a distance, and

deference bordering upon awe, which our countrymen never feel for any

man.

It seems that the British government, or the admiralty department,

were fully acquainted with this state of things, and with the

difficult task which the miserable officers of this miserable

Medway-fleet had to perform. The government did not seem to wish to

exercise a greater degree of rigor over the American prisoners;

because they knew, and all Europe knew, that _the United States

treated their prisoners with distinguished humanity_; and yet they

firmly believed that unless more rigor was exercised, the Americans

would rise upon their keepers before the winter commenced.

The rumor is, that we are to be sent to _Dartmoor prison_. Some of our

crew have lately received a letter from a prisoner in that depot of

misery, for such he describes it. He tells us that it is situated in

the most dreary and uncultivated spot in England; and that to the

sterility of the soil are added the black coloring of superstition.

A _Moor_, a word not used in America, is used in England to denote a

low, marshy piece of ground, or an elevated sterile spot, like our

pine-barren's, divested of every thing like a pine tree. It denotes

something between a beach and a meadow. It is a solemn-faced-truth in

this country of our superstitious ancestors, that every extensive and

dreary _moor_, in England, is haunted by troubled ghosts, witches, and

walking dead men, visiting, in a sociable way, each other's graves. It

is really surprising, to an intelligent American, and incredible, that

stout, hearty, and otherwise bold Englishmen, dare not walk alone over

the dreary spot, or _moor_, where the prison now stands, in a dark and

cloudy night, without trembling with horror, at _a nothing_! The minds

of Scotchmen, of all ranks, are more or less beclouded with this sort

of superstition. They still believe in ghosts, witches, and a _second

sight_! Free as we are from this superstition, we have rather more of

it than the French. The English and American theatres still relish

Macbeth and Hamlet. Beside the stories of witches flying about in the

air, and dead men strolling over the _moor_, the letter contained an

account of the origin of this new famous prison. It stated that this

_Dartmoor_ belonged to that beautiful gambler, the Dutchess of

Devonshire;[I] who lost it in a game of hazard with the Prince of

Wales; who, to enhance the value of it, (he being, as all the world

knows, a very contriving, speculating, economical, close fisted,

miserly genius) contrived to have erected there a species of a

fortress, enclosing seven very large buildings, or prisons, for the

reception of captured seamen; from which establishment its royal

landlord received a very handsome annual rent; and this princely

anecdote is as firmly believed as the stories of the witches, and the

walking dead men. The only remark we would make upon it here, is, that

_Dartmoor_ has a dismal idea associated with it--and that was

sufficient to make our people conceive of it as a place doleful as a

coal-pit.

Not long after the receipt of this letter, one hundred and fifty of

our countrymen were sent off, by water, to this _Dartmoor Prison_; but

the measles appearing among them, they were stopped at the _Nore_,

which is at the entrance of the Thames. They are every day drafting

more, which are destined for the dismal prison house. We are all

struck with horror at the idea of our removal from our ships in the

river Medway, which runs through a beautiful country. It is "the

untried scene," that fills us with dread, "for clouds and darkness

rest upon it." Last year we were transported from inhospitable Nova

Scotia, over the boisterous Atlantic; and suffered incredible

hardships in a rough winter passage; and now we are to be launched

again on the same tumultuous ocean, to go four hundred miles

coast-wise, to the most dismal spot in England. Who will believe it?

the men who exercised all their art and contrivance, and exerted all

their muscular powers to cut through the double plankings and copper

of a ship of the line, in hopes of escaping from her, now leave the

same ship with regret! I have read of men who had been imprisoned,

many years, in the Bastile, who, when liberated, sighed to return to

their place of long confinement, and felt unhappy out of it! I thought

it wondrous strange; but I now cease to be surprised. This prison

ship, through long habit, and the dread of a worse place, is actually

viewed with feelings of attachment. Of the hundred men who were sent

hither last year, from Halifax, there are only about seventy of us

remaining on board the Crown Prince. The next draft will lessen our

numbers; and separate some of those who have been long associates in

bondage. It is not merely the bodily inconvenience of being

transported here and there, that we dread, so much as the exposure to

insult, and sarcasm of our unfeeling enemies. We have been, and still

dread to be again placed in rows, on board of a ship, or in a prison

yard, to be stared at by the British vulgar, just as if we were Guinea

negroes, exposed to the examination of some scoundrel negro merchants,

commissioned to re-stock a plantation with black cattle, capable of

thinking, talking, laughing and weeping. This is not all. We have

been obliged often to endure speeches of this sort, most commonly

uttered in the _Scotch_ accent.--"My life on't that fellow is a

renegado Englishman, or Irishman--an halter will be, I hope, his

portion. D--n all such rebel-_looking_ rascals." Whatever our feelings

and resentments may be on account of impressment, inhuman treatment,

and plundering our fobs and pockets, and of our clothing, we never

speak of the British king and government in terms of gross indecency;

whereas, we American prisoners of war, are often assailed with the

bitterest sarcasms and curses of the _President_ of the UNITED STATES,

the CONGRESS, and some of our military commanders.

The British have been long in the habit of treating the Americans

contemptuously. It began as long ago as 1757, when _Lord Loudoun_,

_General Abercromby_, _Admiral Holborne_, _Admiral Boscawen_, _Lord

Colville_, _Sir Jeffry Amherst_, and _General Wolfe_, came over here

to cut the wings and tail of the wild descendants of Englishmen, in

order to make of them a kind of sea poy soldiery. It is a curious

fact, that some of the Scotch highlanders were at that time shot by

our Yankee sentinels, because they did not know enough of the English

language to give _Jonathan_ the counter-sign! So long ago did mutual

contempt begin between the natives of _Old_ England and _New_.

I have already mentioned that all my family, as well as myself, were

what they called "_Federalists_," or _fault-finders_, and opposers of

_Madison's_ administration; and that I, and all the rest of us, dropt

every trait of federalism in the British prisons, where, to call a man

a _Federalist_, was resented as the deepest insult. I appeal to _all_

my companions in misery, for the accuracy of this opinion. A man who

is willing to expose his life to the balls and bayonets of his

country's foes, to the enemies of his government, and to the

independence and union of his nation, holds his country and the

government of his choice, in higher estimation than his life. Such a

man cannot hear the _United States_ and their _President_ spoken of in

terms of contempt, without feeling the keenest anguish. This I have

felt; and have remarked its effects in the countenances of my insulted

comrades. Situated as we are, it would be great imprudence to resent

what we are often obliged to hear. Captivity, under British

prison-keepers, and British captains of transport-men-of-war, are the

proper colleges for teaching the love of our republican government,

and attachment to its administration; and they are proper places to

make the rankest federalist abjure his errors, and cling to the

constituted authorities of the country whose flag he adores, and for

whose defence he exposes his life. It is inconceivable how closely we

are here pressed together in the cause of our dear country; and in

honor of its high officers. Were all the inhabitants of the United

States as unanimous in their political sentiments, as we are, in the

river Medway, they would all be ready to exclaim, each man to his

neighbour,

Rouse, and revive your ancient glory,

UNITE--and drive the world before you.

_July 1st, 1813._--Our feelings are all alive at this joyous season,

for we are now making preparations for celebrating the birth-day of

our nation; and though in captivity, we are determined not to suffer

the glorious _Fourth of July_ to pass over without testifying our

undivided attachment to our beloved country, and to the cause it is

fighting for.--Each mess are making arrangements in, besure, a small

and humble, but a hearty way, for the celebration; and it is a curious

spectacle to see the pleasureable anticipations of the prisoners, in a

feast of good things, all of which would not amount to so plentiful a

repast, as that which the criminals in our State Prison, near Boston,

enjoy almost every day, the plenty of good porter excepted.

Application has been made to Capt. Hutchinson, for an additional

allowance of beer and porter, which request he has granted, with his

usual goodness. Every brain is at work to know how to spend what we

have been accumulating for the _Fourth of July_, with the most

pleasure, and the most propriety.

The FOURTH OF JULY, 1813, is past. We petitioned the commander to

allow us to hoist the American flag, but he refused to gratify us.

Application was then made to the Commodore, who gave permission that

we might hoist our national colors, as high as the top of our

railings; and the same permission was granted to all the other prison

ships. We had obtained a drum and fife; and being all assembled on the

forecastle, and such other parts of the ship as were accessible to us,

prisoners, we in the morning struck up the animating tune of _Yankee

Doodle_; and saluted the Nassau prison ship with three cheers, which

was returned; the ships more distant caught the joyful sound, and

echoed it back to its source. The fife and drum, the latter ornamented

with the king's arms, played the whole forenoon, while the jovial

prisoners drank, in _English porter_, SUCCESS TO THE AMERICAN CAUSE!

At twelve o'clock, an Oration, hastily prepared, and rather too

inflammatory for about a tenth part of our audience, was delivered, by

a prisoner of respectable talents; a man, who, having been impressed

into the British service, had been promoted to the rank of boatswain

of a frigate; and liberated from the service in consequence of his

declaring it against his honor and conscience to fight against his

countrymen, or aid in pulling down the colors of his nation. This man,

very deliberately, mounted an elevation, and with great force, and

with a characteristical freedom, pronounced an Address, which the

prisoners listened to with profound silence, excepting the clapping of

hands, and sometimes cheers, at the end of such sentences as warmed

and overpowered their silence. At the close of the whole, the orator

was greeted with three times, three cheers, throughout the ship, which

reached even to the shores. The oratory of the boatswain seemed to

electrify the officers and men set over us. The master and the surgeon

appeared _really_ pleased; even Osmer, our jailor, "grinn'd horribly a

ghastly smile."

After the Oration, we returned below to our prepared dinners, at which

our reverend orator asked a blessing, with more fervor than is

commonly observed in our Cossack clergymen; and we fell to, with a

zest and hilarity rarely to be found among a large collection of

prisoners. If, like the captive Jews on the Euphrates, we had hung our

harps upon the willows of the Medway, we took them down on this joyous

occasion. We felt the spirit of freedom glow within us; and we

anticipated the day when we should celebrate our anniversary in that

dear land of liberty, which we longed to see, and panted after, as the

thirsty hart pants after the water brooks.

The Fourth of July was celebrated in a very becoming manner on board

the _Nassau_ prison ship, by similar acts of rejoicing. I have

obtained a copy of the Oration, delivered by a seaman, on that day.

Among the audience, were several ladies and gentlemen from the

neighbourhood.

AN ORATION,[J]

_Delivered by permission, on board the Nassau prison ship, at

Chatham, England, by an American Seaman, prisoner of war._

MY FELLOW PRISONERS, AND BELOVED COUNTRYMEN,

We are assembled to commemorate that ever memorable Fourth of

July, 1776, when our forefathers, inspired with the love of

liberty, dared to divest themselves of the shackles of tyranny and

oppression: yes, my friends, on that important day these stripes

were hoisted on the standard of liberty, as a signal of unity, and

of their determination to fight under them, until America was

numbered among the nations of the globe, as one of them, a free

and independent nation. Yes, my countrymen, she was determined to

spare neither blood nor treasure, until she had accomplished the

grand object of her intentions; an object, my friends, which she

was prompted by Heaven to undertake, and inspired by all that

honor, justice, and patriotism could infuse; her armies were then

in the field, with a WASHINGTON at their head, whose upright

conduct and valorous deeds you have often heard related, and the

memory of whom should be held sacred in the breasts of every

true-born American. Let his heart beat high at the name of

WASHINGTON! Sacred as the archives of heaven! for he was a man of

truth, honor, and integrity, and a soldier fostered by the gods,

to be the saviour of his country.

The struggle was long and arduous; but our rallying word

was--"Liberty or Death!" Torrents of blood were spilt; towns and

villages were burnt, and nothing but havoc, devastation and

destruction, was seen from one end of the continent to the other;

and this was not all; but, to complete the horrid scene, an

infernal horde of savage murderers was prompted by our enemy to

butcher our helpless wives and children! Then did our fathers'

patriotic hearts swell in their bosoms, and they were ten-fold

more resolved to break the yoke of the tyrant.

I recite these things, my countrymen, that you may know how to

prize your liberty, that precious gem for which your fathers

fought, wading in rivers of blood, until it pleased the Almighty

to crown their arms with success; and, glorious to relate, America

was acknowledged free and independent, by all the powers of

Europe. Happy period! then did our warriors exult in what they had

so nobly achieved; then commerce revived, and the _thirteen

stripes_ were hoisted upon the tall masts of our ships, and

displayed from pole to pole; emigrants flocked from many parts to

taste our freedom, and other blessings heaven had bestowed upon

us; our population increased to an incredible degree; our commerce

flourished, and our country has been the seat of peace, plenty and

happiness, for many years. At length the fatal blast reached our

land! America was obliged to unsheath the sword in justification

of her violated rights. Our ships were captured and condemned upon

frivolous pretensions; our seamen were dragged from their lawful

employment; they were torn from the bosom of their beloved

country; sons from their fathers; husbands from their wives and

children, to serve with reluctance for many years, under the

severity of a martial law. The truth of this many of you can

attest to, perhaps with inward pining and a bleeding heart!

My countrymen! I did not mount this rostrum to inveigh against the

British; only the demagogues, the war faction I exclaim against.

We all know, and that full well, that there are many honest,

patriotic men in this country, who would raise their voices to

succour us, and their _arms_ too, could they do it with impunity.

The sympathetic hearts of the good, feel for the oppressed in all

climes. And now, my countrymen, it is more than probable, that the

land of your nativity will be involved in war, and deluged in

blood, for some time to come; yes, my friends, that happy country,

which is the guardian of every thing you possess, that you esteem,

near and dear, has again to struggle for her liberty. The British

war faction are rushing upon us with their fleets and armies,

thinking, perhaps, to crush us in a moment. Strange infatuation!

They have forgotten Bunker's Hill! They have forgotten Saratoga,

and Yorktown, when the immortal WASHINGTON, with his victorious

army, chased them through the Jerseys, under the muzzles of their

ship's cannon for protection! They have forgotten that the sons of

America have as good blood in their veins, and possess as sound

limbs and nerves as they; strange infatuation! I repeat it, if

they presume to think that eight millions of free people will be

very easily divested of their liberty; my word for it, they will

not give up at the sight of their men-of-war, or their red coats;

no, my friends, they will meet the lads who will play them the

tune of yankee doodle, as well as they did at Lexington, or Bunker

Hill. Besides, my countrymen, there is a plant in that country,

(very little of which grows any where else) the infusion of which

stimulates the true sons of America to deeds of valor. There is

something so fostering in the very sound of its name, that it

holds superiority wherever it grows; it is a sacred plant, my

friends, its name is LIBERTY, and may God grant that that plant

may continue to grow in the United States of America, and never be

rooted out so long as it shall please Him to continue the

celestial orb to roll in yon azure expanse.

Ah! Britons! Britons! had your counsellors been just, and had they

listened with attention, and followed the advice of the immortal

_William Pitt_[K], Britain and America might have been one until

the present hour; and they, united, in time might have given laws

to the inhabitants of this terrestrial ball.

Many of you, my friends, have voluntarily embraced this loathsome

prison rather than betray your country; for by the laws of your

country, to aid or give any assistance to an enemy, is treason, is

punishable with death. I hope, therefore, that your country will

reward you abundantly for your toil. And one and all, let us

embrace the icy arms of death, rather than cherish the least

symptoms of an inclination to betray our country. Some have done

it, who have pretended to be Americans, so far as to shield

themselves under the name.--Whether they were _real_ Americans or

not, it is hard for me to say; but if they were, they have put

their hand to the plough, and not only looked back, but have

_gone_ back. I have not the least doubt but they will meet their

reward; that is, they will be spurned at by those very people that

laid the bait for them. Such characters will forever be condemned,

and held in detestation by both parties. Therefore all you who

feel the tide of true American blood flow through your hearts, I

hope never will attempt to flee from the allegiance of your

country. It is cowardice, it is felony; and for all those who have

done it, we may pray that the departed spirits of their fathers,

who so nobly fought, bled, and fell in the conflict to gain them

their liberty, will haunt them in their midnight slumbers, and

that they may feel the horrors of conscience and the dread of a

gallows! Also, that they may have no rest, but like the dove that

Noah sent out of the ark, be restless until they return to the

allegiance of their country.--And now, my countrymen, let us join

in unison to correct our own morals; let us be vigilant over

ourselves while in this situation. And although it is not in our

power to assist our countrymen in the present conflict, yet if we

are good the power of Heaven will fight for us; for the good must

merit God's peculiar care. The powers of Heaven fought for us;

they assisted us to gain our liberty, it is evident from the very

circumstance, that in our struggle with Great Britain for our

liberty, we had no navy, or none of any consequence, yet Great

Britain lost more line of battle ships in that war than she did

with France, although France is a great naval power. And we should

be thankful to God for all the blessings he hath bestowed upon us

from time to time, and in particular for the blessings of that

unity which we are recently informed prevails among our countrymen

in America; united they stand, nor will the powers of hell be able

to overthrow them. And now let us appeal to the God of Sabaoth,

that is, to the God of armies--let us appeal to Him who holds the

balance, and weighs the events of battles and of realms, and by

his decision we must abide. And may He grant us health, peace and

unity in this our disagreeable situation; and let us all join in

concord to praise the Ruler and Governor of the universe. Amen.

Amen.

Among the songs sung on this occasion, were several composed by

seafaring people, in our own country. The following drew tears from

the eyes of our generous hearted sailors. It pathetically describes

what many of them had experienced, the _impressment of an American

sailor boy_, by a British man of war, _the tearing up of his legal

protection_, and of his _sinking under a broken heart_. It was written

by Mr. _John De Wolfe_, of Rhode Island.

_The Impressment of an American Sailor Boy._

A SONG,

_Sung on board the British prison ship Crown Prince, the Fourth of

July, 1813, by a number of the American prisoners._

The youthful Sailor mounts the bark,

And bids each weeping friend adieu;

Fair blows the gale, the canvass swells;

Slow sinks the uplands from his view.

Three mornings, from his ocean bed,

Resplendent beams the God of day;

The fourth, high looming in the mist,

A war-ship's floating banners play.

Her yawl is launch'd; light o'er the deep,

Too kind, she wafts a ruffian band;

Her blue track lengthens to the bark,

And soon on deck the miscreants stand.

Around they throw the baleful glance;

Suspense holds mute the anxious crew--

Who is their prey?--poor sailor boy!

The baleful glance is fix'd on you.

Nay, why that useless scrip unfold?

They damn the "_lying yankee scrawl_,"

Torn from thine hand, it strews the wave,--

They force thee, trembling, to the yawl.

Sick was thine heart, as from the deck,

The hand of friendship wav'd farewell;

Mad was thy brain, as, far behind,

In the grey mist, thy vessel fell.

One hope, yet, to thy bosom clung,

The captain mercy might impart;

Vain was that hope, which bade thee look,

For mercy in a _Pirate's_ heart.

What woes can man on man inflict,

When malice joins with uncheck'd pow'r;

Such woes, unpitied and unknown,

For many a month, the sailor bore!

Oft gem'd his eye the bursting tear,

As mem'ry lingered on past joy;

As oft they flung the cruel jeer,

And damn'd the "_chicken liver'd boy_."

When sick at heart, with "hope deferr'd,"

Kind sleep his wasting form embrac'd,

Some ready minion ply'd the lash,

And the lov'd dream of freedom chas'd.

Fast to an end his miseries drew;

The deadly hectic flush'd his cheek;

On his pale brow the cold dew hung,

He sigh'd, and sunk upon the deck!

The sailor's woes drew forth no sigh;

No hand would close the sailor's eye;

Remorseless, his pale corse they gave,

Unshrouded, to the friendly wave.

And, as he sunk beneath the tide,

A hellish shout arose;

Exultingly the demons cried,

"_So fare all Albion's REBEL foes!_"

The power of music and of song, on such occasions, has been witnessed

in all ages of the world, especially in the youthful, or chivalric

period of a nation's existence, which is the present time, in the

history of the UNITED STATES. We all have felt and witnessed the

animating effects of the simple national tune of _Yankee Doodle_. Our

New England boys cannot stand still when it is played. To that tune

our regiments march with an energy that no other music inspires. At

its sound, the sentinel on his post slaps his musket, and marches his

limits with a smartness, that shows that his brave heart pulsates to

the warlike drum. Such a people, thus animated and united, is

absolutely invincible, by all the powers of Europe combined.

Time, situation, and circumstances, will give us national songs. Many

ages passed away, before England was animated by a national hymn. The

Americans have parodied this hymn, substituting, "_GOD save great

Washington!_" &c.

Our orator, considering where he was, and that he had an hundred

British hearers, used pretty harsh language. He apostrophised the

English thus: "Haughty nation! with one hand thou art deluding and

dividing thy victims in New England, and with the other, thou bearest

the weapon of vengeance; and while employing the ruthful savage, with

his tomahawk and scalping knife, thou art boasting of thy humanity,

thy magnanimity, and thy religion! Bloody villains! detestable

associates! linked together by _fear_, and leagued with savages by

_necessity_, to murder a Christian people, for the alledged crime of

fighting over again the battle of independence. Beware, bloody nations

of Britons and savage Indians, of the recoiling vengeance of a brave

people. For shame--talk no more of your Christianity, of your bible

and missionary societies, when your only aim is to direct the scalping

knife, and give force to the arm of the savage. No longer express the

smile of pleasure, on hearing a stupid Governor proclaim you to be

'_The Bulwark of our Religion!_' You have filled India with blood and

ashes; you have murdered the Irish for contending for liberty of

conscience; you continue the scourge of war in Spain; you pay Russia,

Sweden, Germany, and Holland, the price of blood; and to crown all,

decorate your colors, and your seats of legislation, with scalps, torn

from Americans, male and female; and you are sowing discord, and

diffusing a jacobinical spirit through a protestant country, which you

cannot conquer by force. But," continued the orator, waving his sinewy

arm, and hard and heavy hand, "the time is not far distant, when your

guilty nation will be duly appreciated, and justly punished;" and

saying this, he drove his iron fist into the palm of his left hand,

and stamped with his foot on the capstan, where he stood, while his

admiring countrymen rewarded the herculean orator with three cheers.

There is no disguising it--these Englishmen not only respect us, but

_fear_ us. They perceive a mighty difference between us, and the

cringing, gambling Frenchmen. If they are tolerably well informed, and

think at all, they must conclude that we Yankees, are filled with, and

keep up that bold and daring spirit of liberty, which made England

what she is; and the loss of which is now perceived by their

surrendered ships, and beaten armies in America. All these things will

hereafter be detailed by some future Gibbon, in _the History of the

Decline and Fall of the BRITISH EMPIRE_.

We closed the day, on this memorable _Fourth of July_, pretty much as

we began it; we struck our flag at sun-set, and saluted the other

ships with three hearty cheers.--Throughout the whole, the prisoners,

even to the boys, behaved with becoming decorum; and the whole was

concluded without any disagreeable accident, or any thing like a

quarrel; and in saying this, we desire to acknowledge the

extraordinary good behaviour of all the British officers and men on

board the Crown Prince.

Excepting the apprehensions of being sent off to _Dartmoor prison_, of

which we entertained horrid ideas, we were tolerably happy. After the

measles ceased, we were all very healthy; and there exists a good

understanding between the prisoners and our commander, Osmore; which

they say, is owing to the influence of his amiable wife.--This worthy

woman has discovered that we are not a gang of vagabonds, but that

many of the American prisoners are not only men of solid

understanding, and correct principles, but men whose minds have been

improved by good education. The manner and style in which we

celebrated our national independence, have created a respect for us.

The officers extend a better course of treatment towards _us_; and

this has occasioned our treating _them_ with more respect. Politeness

generates politeness, and insult, insult.--They find that coaxing and

fair words is the only way to manage Americans.

There is a set of busy-idlers amongst us, a sort of newsmongers,

fault-finders, and predictors, who are continually _bothering_[L] us

with unsubstantial rumors. The newspapers we take, are enough to

confound any man; but these creatures are worse than the London

news-writers. Sometimes we are told that Baltimore is burnt; and then

that New York is taken; and we have been positively assured that _old_

New England has declared for the British; and that the governor of

Massachusetts and his council had dined on board a British man of war

in Boston harbor; and that PRESIDENT MADISON had been hanged in effigy

in Boston, Newburyport and Portsmouth. At other times we were told

positively, and circumstantially, that three frigates sent their boats

into Marblehead, and after driving out all the women and children, set

fire to the town, and reduced the whole to ashes; and this was for

some time credited. We have a number of fine Marblehead men here in

captivity, all staunch friends of their country's cause. I well

remember since that period, that it was told us, that peace between

America and England was concluded; and that one of its conditions was

_giving up the fisheries on the banks of Newfoundland_. This alarmed

the Marblehead men more than the report of burning their town; they

raved and swore like mad men. "If that be the case," said they, "_I am

damned_--Marblehead is forever _damned_--and _we are all damned_; and

_damnation_ seize the peace-makers, who have consented to this

condition." On this subject they worked themselves into a fever; and

were very unhappy all the time the story was believed. Such like

stories were told to as, oft times, so circumstantially, that we all

believed them. When discovered to be false, they were called _galley

news_, or galley _packets_. These mischievous characters are

continually sporting with our feelings; and secretly laughing at the

uneasiness they occasion. There is one man who has got the name of

_lying BOB_; who is remarkable for the fertility of his invention;

there is so much apparent correctness in all he advances, that we too

often believe his sly quizzing rodomontades. He mentions and describes

the man who informed him, states little particulars, and relates

circumstances, so closely connected with acknowledged facets, that the

most cautious and incredulous are often taken in by him. He is a

constitutional liar; and the fellow has such a plausible mode of

lying, and wears throughout such a fixed and solemn phiz, that his

news has been circulated by us all, with all our wise reasons, and

explanations, and conjectures, that although we are sometimes angry

enough to knock his brains out, we cannot help laughing at the _hoax_.

To the name of lying Bob, we have added that of "_Printer to Prince

Belzebub's Royal Gazette._"

This little community of ours, crowded within the planks of a single

ship, is but the prototype of the great communities on the land. Here

we see working, all those passions, hopes, fears, emulations, envies,

and even contentions for distinction, which, like the winds and tides

of the ocean, keep the human mind healthy, vigorous, and progressing

to general benefit. Amidst it all, we could discover "_the ruling

passion_," the love of country, and a firm belief that our countrymen

understood rational liberty better, and could defend it longer, than

any nation now in existence.

Many people are beguiled with an idea, that sailors have no serious

thoughts of religion; because they use swearing, and, too often, a

profane phraseology, without any meaning. But seamen generally have

as serious ideas of religion, as landsmen; and are, in my opinion,

full as good. Hypocrisy is not among their vices. They never pretend

to more religion than their conduct proclaims. You see and hear the

worst of them; and that cannot always be said of our brethren on

shore. We have had a methodist preacher exhorting us twice a week,

until lately; but he has discontinued his visits; for he found the

hearts of _some_ of our fellows as hard as their faces, and he

relinquished the hope of their conversion to methodism. There was, at

one time, on board our ship, a little, ugly French surgeon's mate, who

had lived several years in London, and in the southern part of

America. He could speak, and read the English language equally well

with his own. He ridiculed _all_ religion, and talked in such an

irreverent style of the bible, of Jesus Christ, and of the Virgin

Mary, that our sailors would not associate with him, nor, at times,

eat with him. On one occasion, his profanity was so shocking, that he

ran some risk of being thrown overboard. He was a witty, comical

fellow, and they would listen and laugh at his drollery; but they

finally stopped his mouth from uttering things, for which he would be

severely punished in England and in America; and skinned, or fried, or

slowly roasted, in Spain.

Generally speaking, in the religious notions of our sailors, there is

mixed a portion of that superstition which we, our forefathers, and

foremothers brought with them from England, Scotland and Ireland. They

believe, for example, in spirits, or ghosts, and that they haunt

houses and ships; and that they have sometimes appeared with horrid

visage, and menacing countenances, at the bed-side of a cruel captain;

and above all, to the false hearted Tar, who cruelly deserted his too

credulous Poll, who drowned herself in despair. The common sailor

often tells such stories, and sings them in ballads, both which are

generally ended with the good moral sentiment of the punishment of

cruelty and treachery; and the reward of the kind hearted and humane.

It may appear singular that men whose conduct generally is so opposite

to the prescribed rules of the Priest, should have so firm an opinion

of another life, after their bodies are eaten up by sharks, or blown

to atoms; but it is really the case with the British and American

sailors; for they have the strongest belief in the existence of

spirits; and all their stories and traditions tend to confirm this

superstition. How often have I known them huddled together in the

night, telling stories of feats of danger and desperation! a ghost or

spirit is generally brought into the history. Nothing suits these

daring set of men better than a solemn narrative of a supernatural

achievement, and a supernatural escape; but to be charming, it must

have a tinge of the horrible. _Shakespeare_ would have recognized some

of these men as his kindred, and they him as a relation. Good luck and

ill luck, lucky days and unlucky days, as well as lucky ships, attach

themselves strongly to a sailor's mind. A remarkable instance of this

we have in our ill-fated frigate _Chesapeake_. Ever since the British

ship, _Leopard_, fired into this American frigate, in a period of

profound peace, and caused her to strike her colors, and which led to

her being boarded; and her men to be mustered by compulsion, and some

of her crew taken and carried forcibly on board the Leopard, one of

which was afterwards hanged; after this deep wound on our country's

honor, this frigate was ever after viewed as _unlucky_, and shunned

accordingly.

In confirmation of this nautical curse, she met with a series of

disasters during the war, which were not attributed to ill management,

but to ill luck. Thus, one time she was coming up the harbor of

Boston, from a cruise, where she lost spar after spar, and topmast

after topmast; and when in full sight or the town, and not much wind,

over board went her fore-top-mast, and several men were drowned in

their fall from the rigging. This was not attributed to lack of

judgment, but to ill luck. When this ill-omened ship lay in Boston

harbor, previous to her last and fatal cruise, she could not get men;

and that from the impression on the minds of sailors, that _she was an

unlucky ship_. This operated to her final misfortune; for her crew was

made up of every thing that offered. Her captain was a stranger to his

crew, and to his officers; his first lieutenant lay at the point of

death when she sailed; her motley crew mutinied, on account of their

pay, before they weighed anchor; her brave, I had like to have said

rash commander, sailed out in a great hurry; her cables were not quite

stowed away, nor other things arranged in their places, when she bore

down on the cool and orderly Shannon; and to crown all, her intrepid

commander, a man six feet two inches, went into action within half

pistol shot, in full uniform, as if he defied the power of the

British musketry. I have conversed with some of her officers and men

in my captivity, and think that I am warranted in saying, that there

was much more high-toned bravery exhibited on that day, than good

conduct.--The sailors, however, think differently; they all attribute

it to that unavoidable fatality which forever adheres, like pitch, to

an _unlucky_ ship. O, my country!

"It was that fatal and perfidious bark,

Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,

That sunk so low that sacred head of thine!"

MILTON'S LYCIDAS.

CHAPTER II.

_August 30th._--Drafts continue to be made from this ship to be sent

off to Dartmoor Prison. There are but few of us remaining, and we are

every day in expectation of removal. All go off with evident

reluctance, from an apprehension that the change will be for the

worse. It is the "untried scene," that fills us with anxiety. We are

more disposed to bear our present ills, "than fly to others which we

know not of."

Oh, how we envy the meanest looking wretch we see, crawling on the

shore, gathering sticks to cook his fish. There the beggar enjoys the

natural inheritance of man, sweet LIBERTY; if the unfeeling, the

avaricious and morose, refuse his petition, he can sweeten the

disappointment with the reflection, that he has liberty to walk where

he pleases. He is not shut up, in the prime of life, and cut off from

all intercourse with those he holds most dear; he is not lingering out

his life and health under the morose countenance of an unfeeling

jailor. He has not, like us, a home, where peace, plenty, and every

good, await to welcome us. Who can express the anguish felt by some of

us, wretched prisoners, here crowded together, like sheep, men who

have broken no law of either country; but who have stood courageously

forth in supporting the sacred cause of our country, and in defending

"_free trade and sailors' rights_." Should this war continue some

years longer, or should peace be restored, and another war with

Britain commence, I will venture to predict that our enemies will take

but _few_ prisoners _alive_. My own mind is entirely made up on this

head. I hope to stand ready to risk my life for the liberty and

independence of our nation, and for the preservation of my own

personal liberty; but unless wounded and maimed, I never will be again

a prisoner to the British.

The American sailor has a beloved home; he was born and brought up in

a house that had a "fire place" in it.--Many of them here, in

captivity, have wives and children, most of them have parents, and

brothers and sisters. These poor fellows partake, at times, the misery

of their dear relatives, at three thousand miles distance. They

recollect their aged mothers, and decrepid fathers, worn down with

age, labor, and anxious thoughts for the welfare of their absent sons.

Some have wives, and little children, weeping for their absent

husbands, and suffering for the good and comfortable things of this

life, having none to help them. In families, neighborhoods, and

villages, men are supported by leaning on each other; or by supporting

each other; and we have here endeavored to do so too; but now our

numbers are thinning, some of our best, our steadiest, and most

prudent men, have left us, and gone to Dartmoor Prison. I have felt

very low spirited for some days past. It is true, our numbers are now

so few, that we can run about, and beguile the tedious hours by a

greater variety of exercise and amusement than heretofore; but then,

our soberest men are gone, and left behind some of the most noisy and

disorderly of our whole crew; and young as I am, I am little disposed

to make a riot or noise, merely for noise sake.

A disturbance took place last night, which deprived all of us of

sleep. It was owing to the unaccommodating disposition of our

commander, Mr. Osmore. About thirty prisoners were selected, and

called aft, with their hammocks all tied up, to be ready to go off

early in the morning in a tender. The tender did not arrive as was

expected; the sergeant was ordered to count us over in the evening to

go to rest; whereupon the thirty drafted men went aft, and requested

their hammocks to sleep in; Mr. Osmore replied, that, as they were to

go off early in the morning, they would only detain the tender, if

they had their hammocks to take down and pack up again, on which

account he refused to let them have their usual accommodations for

sleeping.--The men went below, very much dissatisfied at the churlish

disposition of the commander; and as they despaired being able to

sleep themselves, on bare boards, they all determined that Osmore

should not himself sleep. They waited quietly till about ten o'clock,

when the commander usually went to bed; and then they tore up the

large oak benches, tied ropes to them, and run with them round the

deck, drawing the benches after them like a sled, at the same time

hollowing, screaming and yelling, and making every noise that their

ingenuity or malice could devise. Sometimes they drove these oaken

benches full butt against the aft bulk head, so as to make the ship

tremble again with the noise, like cannon. They jarred down the

crockery belonging to the marines, which was set up on the opposite

side of the cock-pit, and frightened their wives out of their beds.

The noise and jarring were so great, that it seemed as if they were

breaking up the ship, for the sake of her iron work. Lieut. Osmore

sent a marine down, to order them to be still and go to sleep. They

replied, that they had no conveniences for sleeping, and that Osmore

had acted like a villain, in depriving them unnecessarily of their

hammocks, for which brutality, they were determined that he should not

sleep more than they. After which they recommenced their riot and

thundering noise, which brought Osmore out of his cabin, who called

one of the committee to him, and told him to tell the men, that if

they did not directly cease their noise, he would confine every man of

them below, for three days. The committee man replied, that nothing

could then be done, for that the mob had fairly capsized the

government of the ship; and all that he could say, would only add to

the riot and confusion. "Then," said he, "I'll be d--d if I do not

fire upon them." Some of the mob answered, "fire, and be d--d." And

the commander hesitated a moment, and returned to his cabin; for he

saw the men were wrought up to the battle pitch, and rather wished him

to fire, by way of excuse for their attack upon him, whom they most

cordially despised.

Directly upon this, they collected all the tin and copper pans, pots

and kettles, and every sonorous metallic substance they could lay

their hands on. These they tied together, and hitched bunches of them

here and there, upon the oaken planks; and then, what with screaming,

yelling, like the Indian war-whoop, cheering, and the thundering

noise of the planks, grating along the deck, together with the ringing

and clattering of their metallic vessels, they made altogether such a

hideous "rattle-come-twang," that it was enough to raise all Chatham.

All this was transacted in utter darkness. The officers doubtless saw,

that bloodshed and promiscuous death would be the consequence of

firing among the rioters, and prudently left it to subside with the

darkness of the night. These disorderly fellows would go round the

decks twice, with all this thundering noise and clatter, and then be

silent for about half an hour, or until they thought Mr. Osmore had

got into a doze; and then they would recommence their horrible

serenade. At length Osmore became so enraged, that he swore by his

Maker, that he would order every marine in the ship to fire in among

them; but on some of the committee observing to him that he would be

as likely to kill the innocent as the guilty, and as they were then

silent, he went off again to his cabin; but within a quarter of an

hour they begain their shocking serenade, and continued it, at

provoking intervals, all the night, so that none could sleep in the

ship.

In the morning the tender came along side, and they all went on board

of her. When they had all got in, and pushed off from the ship's side,

and while Osmore was superintending their departure, they all cried

out, _baa! baa! baa!_ until they got out of hearing. The next day he

betrayed a disposition to punish, in some way, those prisoners that

remained; but it was remarked to him, that it was utterly impossible

for any of them to stop the riot, or to keep their disturbers quiet,

and that they, themselves, were equally incommoded with him and his

family, he therefore prudently dropped the design. Although many of us

disapproved of this behavior of the men, none of us could help

laughing at the noise, and its ludicrous effects. It is a fact, that

the officers and marines of the Crown Prince prison ship, were more

afraid of the American prisoners, than they were of them. This last

frolic absolutely cowed them. One of the officers said to me, next

day, "Your countrymen do not seem to be a bloody minded set of men,

like the Portuguese and Spaniards; but they have the most, d--d

provoking _impudence_ I ever saw, in any men; if they did not

accompany it all with peals of laughter, and in the spirit of fun, I

should put them down as a set of hell-hounds." I told him that I

considered the last night's riot, not in the light of a mutiny, or a

serious attempt to wound or scratch any man, but as a high frolic,

without any real malice, and was an evidence of that boisterous

liberty in which they had been bred up, and arising also from their

high notions of right and wrong. To which the worthy Scotchman

replied, "I hate a Frenchman, a Spaniard, and a Portuguese; but I

never can hate an American; and yet the three former behave infinitely

better; and give us far less trouble than your saucy fellows." Had

British prisoners behaved in this manner, in the prison ships in the

harbor of _Boston_, or _Salem_, would our officers have borne it with

more patience?

As there were but few prisoners now remaining, and ample room to run

and jump about for exercise, our men evidently recruited; and being in

good spirits, the rose of health soon bloomed again on their manly

cheeks. The soldiers, made prisoners in Canada, evidently gained

strength, and acquired activity. If we compare their miserable,

emaciated looks, on their arrival at Melville Prison, from their

wretched voyage down the St. Lawrence, with their present appearance,

the difference is striking. The wretched appearance of these new made

soldiers, reflects no credit on the British. The savages of the forest

never starve their prisoners. The war department of the United States

having ordered these men a portion of their pay, they appropriated it

chiefly to purchase comfortable clothing, which has been productive of

great good, and has probably saved the lives of some of them; others

squandered away their money in dissipation and gambling.

A becoming degree of tranquillity prevailed on board this prison ship,

during my residence in it. On the 15th of September, we were all sent

on board the Bahama prison ship, which lay farther up the reach. Here

we found about three hundred of our countrymen, who received us with

kindness, and many marks of satisfaction. I could, at once, perceive

that their situation had been less pleasant than ours, in the Crown

Prince. Little attention had been paid to cleanliness, and gambling

had been carried to as great excess as their means would admit of.

They seemed to lack either the power, or the resolution of adhering to

and carrying into effect, good and wholesome regulations. I never saw

a set of more ragged, dirty men in my life; and yet they were

disposed to sell their last rag to get money to game with.--Their

misfortune was, they had too few men of sense and respectability among

them. They had no good committee men; not enough to bear down the

current of vice and folly. We dread the contagion of bad example. Some

of our men soon resorted to their detestable gambling tables; and

pursued their old vices with astonishing avidity. We seriously

expostulated with our companions, on their returning to the pernicious

practice of gambling, after they had had the virtue of refraining on

board the Crown Prince; and our advice induced nearly all of them to

renounce the destructive practice. I had read, but never saw

convincing evidence before, of gaming being a passion, that rages in

proportion to the degrees of misery, until it becomes a species of

insanity.

We, new comers, introduced certain measures that had a tendency to

harmonize our sailors and soldiers. The disorders on board the Bahama

arise, principally, from having on board a number of these two classes

of men. Our sailors view a soldier as belonging to an order of men

below them; and it must be confessed that our first crop of recruits,

that were huddled together soon after the declaration of war, in some

measure justified this notion. They were, many of them, idle,

intemperate men, void of character and good constitutions. The high

flying _federal clergy_, among other nonsense, told their flocks that

the war would demoralize the people; whereas it had the contrary

effect, as it regarded the towns an hundred miles from the sea coast.

It absolutely picked all the rags, dirt, and vice, from our towns and

villages, and transported them into Canada, where they were either

captured, killed, or died with sickness, so that our towns and

villages on the Atlantic, were cleared of idlers and drunkards, and

experienced the benefit of their removal. The second crop of recruits,

in 1814, were of a different cast. The high bounty, and the love of

country, induced the embargoed sailor to turn soldier; to these were

added young mechanics, and the sons of farmers. These were men of good

habits, and of calculation. They looked forward to their bounty of

land, with a determination of settling on their farms at the close of

the war. These were moral men, and they raised the character of the

soldier, and of their country. These were the men who conquered at

Chippewa, Bridgewater, Erie, and Plattsburg. Of such men was composed

that potent army of well disciplined militia, who reposed within

twenty miles of the sea shores of New-England, during 1814 and

1815--especially of Massachusetts and Connecticut; and who, had the

British attempted a landing, would have met them, with the bayonet, at

the water's edge, and crimsoned its tide.

Our captivated sailors knew nothing of this fine army; they only knew

the first recruits; and it is no wonder they viewed them as their

inferiors, as they really were. Even the officers were, generally

speaking, much inferior to those who closed the war. The American

sailor appears to be a careless, unthinking, swearing fellow; but he

is generally much better than he appears. He is generally marked with

honor, generosity, and honesty. A ship's crew soon assimilates, and

they are all brother tars, embarked together in the same bottom, and

in the same pursuit of interest, curiosity or fame; while the rigid

discipline of an army does not admit of this association and

assimilation. A sailor, therefore, greets a sailor, as his brother;

but has not yet learned to greet a soldier as his brother; nor has the

American soldier ever felt the fraternal attachment to the sailor. It

should be the policy of our rulers, and military commanders, to

assimilate the American soldier and sailor; and there is little doubt

but that they will amalgamate in time. In France, the soldier looks

down upon the sailor; in England, and in America, the sailor looks

down on the soldier. We must learn them to march arm in arm.

Confinement, dirtiness, and deprivations, have an evil operation on

the mind. I have observed some who had a little refinement of manners,

at the commencement of their captivity, and regarded the situation and

feelings of others near them, with complacency, but have lost it all,

and sunk into a state of misanthropy. We, Americans, exercise too

little ceremony at best, but some of our prisoners lost all deference

and respect for their countrymen, and became mere hogs, the stronger

pushing the weaker aside, to get the most swill.

"Jove fix'd it certain, that the very day

Made man a slave, took half his worth away."----_Homer._

All our industrious men were well behaved; and all our idle men were

hoggish. Some of our countrymen worked very neatly in bone, out of

which material they built ships,[M] and carved images, and snuff

boxes, and tobacco boxes, and watch cases. Some covered boxes, in a

very neat manner, with straw. The men thus employed, formed a strong

contrast to those who did nothing; or who followed up gambling. Our

ship afforded striking instances of the pernicious effects of

idleness; and of the beneficial effects of industry. We, on board the

Crown Prince, instructed the boys; but in this ship, there has been no

attention paid to them; and they are, upon the whole, as vicious in

their conduct, and as profane in their language, as any boys I ever

saw. Frenchmen are bad companions for American boys. They can teach

them more than they ever thought of in their own country.

In January last, three hundred and sixty American prisoners were sent

on board this ship. Great mortality prevailed among the Danish

prisoners, prior to the arrival of our countrymen, on board the

Bahama. The Danes occupied her main deck, while we occupied the lower

one.--When our poor fellows were tumbled from out of one ship into

this, they had not sufficient clothes to cover their shivering limbs,

in this coldest month of the year. They were, indeed, objects of

compassion, emaciated, pale, shuddering, low spirited, and their

constitutions sadly broken down.--Their morbid systems were not strong

enough to resist any impression, especially the contagion of the jail

fever, under which the Danes were dying by dozens. Out of three

hundred and sixty one Americans, who came last on board, eighty-four

were, in the course of three months, buried in the surrounding

marshes, the burying place of the prison ships. I may possibly

forgive, but I never can forget the unfeeling conduct of the British,

on this occasion. Why send men on board a crowded prison ship, which

they knew was infected with a mortal contagion? Their government

_must_ have known the inevitable consequences of putting three hundred

debilitated men on board an infected ship, where there were not enough

well to attend on the sick.--If we, Americans, ever treated British

prisoners in our hands, in this cruel manner, the facts have never

reached my ears. Here was an opportunity for redeeming the blasted

reputation of the British, for the horrors of their old Jersey prison

ship, in the revolutionary war. But they supposed that our affairs

were so low; and their own so glorious, that there was no room for

retaliation. The surrounding marshes were already unhealthy, without

adding the poison of human bodies, which were every hour put into

them.--Several persons, now prisoners here, and I rank myself among

that number, had a high idea of British humanity, prior to our

captivity; but we have been compelled to change our opinions of the

character of the people from whom we descended. The commander of the

Bahama, Mr. W. is a passionate and very hot tempered man, but is, upon

the whole, an humane one. We have more to praise than to blame in his

conduct towards us. He is not ill disposed to the Americans,

generally, and wishes for a lasting peace between the two contending

nations. His mate is the reverse of all this, especially when he is

overcharged with liquor.

As characteristic of some of our imprudent countrymen, I insert the

following anecdote. The _Bellecean_, (or _Bellauxcean_) prison ship,

lay next to us. She was filled with Norwegians, and were detained in

England, while Norway adhered to a king of their own choice. The

commander of her was a nettlesome, fractious, foolish old fellow, who

was continually overlooking us, and hailing our commander, to inform

him if any one smuggled a bottle of rum from the market boats. His

Norwegians gave him no trouble; they were a peaceable, subservient

people, with no fun in their constitutions, nor any jovial cast in

their composition.--They were very different from the British or

American sailor, who will never be baulked of his fun, if the devil

stands at the door. This imprudent, meddling old commander, of the

_Bellauxcean_, was forever informing the officer of the deck of every

little pickadillo of the American prisoners; and he, of course, got

the hearty ill will of all the Americans in the ship Bahama. He once

saw a marine connive at the passing a couple of bottles of liquor

through the lower ports, and he hailed the commander, and informed him

of it; and the marine was immediately punished for it. This roused the

_Americans_ to revenge; for the _British_ soldier, or marine, is so

much of a slave, that revenge never dare enter his head. _Retaliation_

belongs alone to the free and daring American. He alone enjoys the

_lex talionis_, and glories in carrying it into execution.

Fish and _potatoes_ constituted the diet of the following day. What

does our "dare devils" do, but reserve all their potatoes to serve as

cold shot to fire at the fractious commander of their next neighbor,

the Bellauxcean. Accordingly when they observed the old man stubbing

backwards and forwards his quarter deck, and stopping now and then to

peak over to our ship to see if we smuggled a bottle of liquor, they

gave him a volley of potatoes, which was kept up until the veteran

commander hailed our captain and told him that if the Americans did

not cease their insult he would order his marines to fire upon them;

but his threatenings produced no other effect than that of increasing

the shower of potatoes; so that this brave British tar was compelled

to seek shelter in his cabin; and then the potatoe-battery ceased its

fire. When all was quiet, the old gentleman seized the opportunity of

pushing on board of us. When he came on our quarter deck, rage stopped

all power of utterance, he foamed and stamped like a mad man. At

length, he asked Mr. Wilson how he could permit a body of prisoners

under his command and control, to insult one of his majesty's officers

in his own ship? To which Mr. Wilson replied, that he should use his

influence to prevent a repetition of the insult, and restore harmony;

and that he was sorry that his men should get into any difficulty with

those of another ship; and he recommended moderation, but the old

commander swore and raved terribly; when our worthy protector reminded

him that he was not on his own quarter deck. The coolness of Mr.

Wilson still further enraged our exasperated neighbor, and he left the

ship execrating every one on board, and swearing that he would make

complaint to the commodore.

When the prisoners saw how their own commander viewed the interference

of another, they collected all the potatoes they could find, and I am

sorry to add, pieces of coal, and as soon as he left the side of the

Bahama, they pelted him till he fairly skulked under cover in his own

prison ship. He directly drew his marines up in battle array, on his

quarter deck, when the captain of the Bahama seeing his folly, and

knowing his disposition, exerted himself to make every American go

below, and enjoined upon them _a cessation of potatoes_. We gained,

however, more by this short war, than most of the nations of the

world, for it entirely removed the cause for which we _took up

potatoes_ against one of his Britannic majesty's officers, within ten

leagues of the capital of his empire. I overheard captain Wilson say

to the second in command, "these Americans are the sauciest dogs I

ever saw; but damn me if I can help liking them, nor can I ever hate

men who are so much like ourselves--they are _John Bull_ all over."

In a course of kind and flattering treatment, our countrymen were

orderly and easily governed; but when they conceived themselves ill

treated you might as well attempt to govern so many East India tygers.

The British officers in this river discovered this, and dreaded their

combined anger; and yet the Americans are seldom or ever known to

carry their vengeance to blood and murder, like the Spaniard, Italian

and Portuguese.

A Swedish frigate has just arrived in the reach, to take away those

good boys, the Norwegians. _King Bernadotte_ sent them two and six

pence a piece, to secure their affections, and provide them with some

needed articles for their passage to Norway. A cartel is hourly

expected from London, to take home some of their soldiers. The Leyden,

an old Dutch 64, is preparing, at the Nore, to take us away.

We are induced to believe that our emancipation is nigh. We are every

day expecting, that we, too, shall be sent home; but this hope,

instead of inspiring us with joy and gladness, has generated sourness

and discontent. It seems that the government of the United States give

a preference to those who had enlisted in the public service over such

as were in privateers. We have felt this difference all along. Again,

the government are disposed to liberate the soldiers before the

sailors, because their sufferings are greater than those of sailors,

from their former mode of life and occupations. They were farmers, or

mechanics, or any thing but seamen; and this makes their residence on

ship-board very irksome; whereas, the sailor is at home on the deck or

hold of the ship. Most of these soldiers were from the state of

Pennsylvania and New York, and many from the western parts of the

union. These men could not bear confinement like sailors; neither

could they bear a short allowance of food; nor could they _shirk_[N]

for themselves like a Jack tar. A sailor could endure with a degree of

patience, restraints and deprivations that were death to landsmen.

Many of these youthful soldiers had not long left their native

habitations, and parental care, when they were captured; their morals

and manners were purer than those of sailors. Such young men suffered

not only in their health, but in their feelings; and many sunk under

their accumulated miseries; for nourished by indulgence, in the midst

of abundance, many of them died _for want of sufficient food_. These

miserable beings were, as they ought to be, the first objects of the

solicitude of government.

The prisoners were seen here and there, collected in squads, chewing

together the cud of discontent, and grumbling at the imagined

partiality and injustice of their rulers. These discontents and

bickerings too often damped the joy of their prospect of liberation

from captivity. The poor privateers' men had most reason for

complaining, as they found themselves neglected by one side, and

despised by the other.

The sufferings of soldiers, many of whom were militia, who were taken

on the frontiers of Canada, are not to be withheld from the public.

They were first stripped by the savages in the British service, and

then driven before them, half naked to the city of Quebec; from thence

they were sent, in ill-provided transports, to Halifax, suffering all

the way, the torments of hunger and thirst. When they arrived at

Melville prison, they were shocking objects to the prisoners they

found there; emaciated, weak, dirty, sickly, and but half clothed,

they excited in us all, commisseration for their great misery; and

indignation, contempt and revenge, towards the nation who could allow

such barbarity. The cruel deception practised on their embarkation for

England, instead of going home; their various miseries on ship-board,

where as landsmen, they underwent infinitely more than the sailors;

for many of them never had seen the salt ocean; and their close

confinement in the hold of a ship, gave them the idea of a floating

hell. The captivity of the sailors was sufficiently distressing; but

it was nothing to that of the wretched landsmen, who considered a ship

at all times, a kind of dungeon. The transporting our soldiers to

England, and their sufferings during their passage, and while confined

in that country, has engendered a hatred against the British nation,

that ages will not obliterate, and time scarcely diminish. We,

Americans, can never be justly accused of want of humanity to the

English prisoner.

If the young American wishes to see instances of British barbarity,

let him peruse the journal of the campaigns under Armherst, Wolfe,

Abercromby and others; there he will find that the British soldiers

under these commanders, committed barbarities in the French villages,

for which they deserved to be hanged. They even boasted of _scalping_

the French. Every body of ordinary information in New England, knows

that _Louisbourg_ could not have been taken, without the powerful aid

of the New England troops; yet in the historical journal by Knox,

sanctioned by general Armherst, there is only the following

gentlemanlike notice of our countrymen. The author, captain Knox, says

that the transport he was in, was in miss-stays, and was in danger of

being dashed to pieces on a ledge of rocks, when the master instantly

fell on his knees, crying out--"what shall we do? I vow, I fear we

shall all be lost; let us go to prayers; what can we do, dear

Jonathan? Jonathan went forward muttering to himself--Do? I vow

Ebenezar, I don't know what we shall do any more than thyself!" When

fortunately one of our soldiers (who was a thorough bred seaman, and

had served several years on board a ship of war, and afterwards in a

privateer,) hearing and seeing the helpless state of mind which our

poor New Englandmen were under, and our sloop drawing towards the

shore, called out, "why, d--n your eyes and limbs, down with her

sails, and let her drive a--e foremost, what the devil signifies your

praying and canting now?" Ebenezar quickly taking the hint, called to

Jonathan to lower the sails, saying he believed that young man's

advice was very good, but wished he had not delivered it so

profanely!!--and the soldier took the helm and saved the sloop. If

captain John Knox should be living, the old gentleman would blush

should he read this extract.

I have frequently thought that the over-rated and highly boasted

British bravery and humanity, would find their graves in America. The

treatment these soldiers experienced has stigmatised the English

character, and deservedly so. It is not in the power of words, and

scarcely in the power of the painter's pencil, to convey an idea of

their wretchedness. They were covered with rags, dirt, and vermin.

They were, to us, objects of pity, but to all others, objects of

disgust; even we, their brothers, recoiled, at times, on approaching

them. _Was there any design in this?_ Did our enemies wish to impress

their countrymen with _an abhorrence of a yankee_? How else can we

account for a treatment which our people never experienced when

prisoners of the Indians? No--the savages never starve their

prisoners, nor deprive them the use of water. Dispirited, and every

way disheartened, our poor fellows had, generally speaking, the aspect

of a cowardly, low spirited race of men, and much inferior to the

British. We here saw how wretched circumstances, in a short time,

debases a brave and high spirited man. When people from the shore

visited our ship, and saw our miserable soldiers, we do not wonder

that they despised them. We sometimes had the mortification of hearing

remarks in the Scotch accent, to this effect: "So, these are samples

of the brave yankees that took the _Guerriere_ and _Java_; it proves

to a demonstration, that the American frigates were manned with

British deserters."

The sailors often tried to spirit up the soldiers, and to encourage

them to cleanliness; but it was in vain, as most of them were

depressed below the elasticity of their brave souls; yet amidst their

distress, not a man of them would listen to proposals to enter the

British service. Every one preferred death, and even wished for it.

The Americans are a clean people in their persons, as well as in their

houses. None of them are so poor as to live in cabins, like the Irish;

or in cottages, like the Scotch; but they are brought up in houses

having chimnies, glass windows, separate and convenient rooms, and

good bedding; and to all these comfortable things we must add that the

poorest of our countrymen eat meat once every day, and most of them

twice. To young men so brought up and nourished, a British captivity

on board their horrid transports, and even on board their

prison-ships, is worse than death. If we, Americans, treat British

prisoners as they treat ours, let it be sounded through the world to

our disgrace. Should the war continue many years, I predict that few

Americans will be taken alive by the English.