where we halted but a few minutes, and I learned that we were yet
several miles from Stapleton, where the prisons were situated. Despite
our fatigue, we were hastened along a broad, dusty road that led to the
north.
At six o'clock we skirted the edge of a vast domain that I found, by
asking, was the private estate of the Duke of Devonshire, and before we
knew it we were halted in front of a long row of stone buildings, behind
the barred gratings of which appeared hundreds of pallid faces. As we
passed over the drawbridge spanning the deep moat, we entered the
court-yard, and found ourselves with the brown sombre prison-houses on
either hand.
The chatter of French sounded all about us, for the majority of the
prisoners were Frenchmen taken in the wars against Napoleon. The
Americans were domiciled in a building apart from the Frenchmen, and did
not appear to enjoy the garrulous, half-contented spirit of the others.
Thus began two months of prison life that I shall dismiss with a few
words, although, as I hinted, I could write a volume about it.
A huge prison, in which are confined some five or six thousand men (our
numbers were swelled every day by new drafts of American prisoners and
Frenchmen) is much like a city. We had theatrical companies, markets,
and exchanges, and men quarrelled and gambled, and plied their trades or
callings to some advantage. Time passed quickly, although one day was
much like another. We were well guarded and fairly well fed, although
clothing and foot-gear were at a premium.
My size and strength had apparently increased since I had left Belair. I
stood six feet in height before I was nineteen years of age, and I
afterwards added two inches more to this. In the sports, especially in
foot-races and wrestling, I found myself a leader. Of course no one
could live in such a community as this, even for a short time, without
picking up a great deal of useful knowledge, besides imbibing much also
that would serve no one in good stead except perhaps as a warning.
My knowledge of the French tongue enabled me to converse with the
Frenchmen, and I whiled away many an hour by talking with them and
reading a romance so smirched by constant handling as to be almost
undecipherable. A small volume of Shakespeare, belonging to an
ex-schoolmaster, who kindly loaned it to me, I pored over by the hour.
One day there came a little excitement in our life, and a great
hallooing and huzzahing resounded through the prison. It was a reception
tendered to a division of the crew of the luckless _Chesapeake_ that was
transferred from the hulks to join us. We got up an entertainment in
their honor that evening.
Now to come to the evening of the 16th of September, 1813, that I can
set down in this chronicle in large important letters; for on this date,
by a combination of fortunate circumstances, I ceased to be a prisoner.
It happened thus:
The officers attached to the military force stationed at the prison
lived together in a small building at the southwest corner of the
rectangle formed by the high walls. Through the building which they
occupied a passage ran to a small postern-gate. On several occasions I
had been over there bearing messages from the prison-keeper (I was one
of the monitor officers in charge of the order of my section of the west
wing). But of course I had never progressed further than the small
antechamber that opened into the guard-room, where I would wait to
secure an audience with the commandant or one of his subordinates.
Now on this day I was bound to see a strange condition of affairs--the
orderly who generally stood at the door was missing from his post. It
was past dusk, and as I pushed in I noticed that the entrance to the
guard-room, usually filled with soldiers, was shut. I thought of giving
a hail, but then perceiving also that the entrance into the main
building was gaping wide, impelled by a sudden impulse I stepped across
the threshold into the hallway. I could hear voices coming from
somewhere; but a room to the right appeared to be empty; a candle was
burning on top of a tall dressing-case, and there across the foot of a
narrow cot lay spread the uniform of a Lieutenant; and a great bear-skin
shako, with a tall plume, topped one of the bedposts.
Now I think to do what I did then took more courage than anything I have
ever attempted. I gave a leap sideways into the room, and closed the
door behind me. Actually panting from excitement, I tore off the rags
which served me for clothing, and shaking from head to foot I donned the
uniform. Luckily the clothes were made for a large man, and they fitted
me to perfection. I glanced at myself in the glass as I put the towering
head-gear on as a finishing-touch. I was a strange-looking object. My
hair, which was long, was done sailor fashion down my back in a queue,
but the locks straggled down my cheeks; and, young as I was, my
appearance would have been improved by the use of a razor. But I
gathered my hair on the top of my head, where it was kept by the weight
of the shako, and then I stepped to the door. The voices had ceased, but
I plainly perceived that some one was coming down the corridor, which
was flagged with stone; the jingling of spurs echoed along the walls.
Hastily I closed the door, and extinguished the light with a pinch of my
fingers. It was good for me that I had done this, for whoever it was
gave the door a push and thrust in his head. How he ever missed seeing
me (for I could have struck him with my knee) I cannot see to this day.
It was one of the general officers, and attired for duty evidently, as
he carried a long sabre hitched under his arm.
"Humph! Not here," he said. "A pretty piece of business."
Then away he clanked, and I heard the slamming of a door to another
apartment. I knew that probably he came from the outside, and that the
way to freedom, or at least to the open air, must be in the direction
from which he was walking. I stepped out into the passageway and tiptoed
down it. Then thinking that cautious steps might attract notice, I
changed my gait to a military stride, and swaggered along with chest out
and shoulders back. My doing this was fortunate, for I went by the open
entrance of a small apartment, and a young man in undress uniform sat
reading a book with the aid of a small lamp. He glanced out at me, but
made no comment. I had affected to yawn, and half covered my face with
my hand.
Now I came to the end of the corridor, and here were three doors; the
one on the left shut, the centre one partly ajar, and the one on the
right closed with large bolts. Looking through the door that was open, I
could perceive a man's leg stretched out on a chair as if he were
resting, so I turned to the one on the left. I was about to draw the
latch when from within I heard the sound of voices in conversation.
"Good for you! Now another throw," some one said. Then came the rattle
of a dice-box.
There was nothing for it but to try the farther door, the one that was
bolted, and to do this I had to run the risk of attracting the man's
attention in the middle room. I stepped by, and giving a quick glance
over my shoulder, I saw that he was asleep, with his mouth wide open and
his arms folded across his chest. With trembling fingers I drew the bolt
of the heavy, iron-studded door, and swung it open.
Here was another passageway much like the first, with rooms on either
side and a staircase in a recess at the farther end. Good fortune still
favored me. I tramped down it, and found that to go out I had evidently
to ascend the steps. When I reached the foot and had placed my hand on
the iron guard-rail, I almost gave a gasp of sheer fright. There
standing on a little platform at the top was a grenadier, with his
musket leaning against him. He had caught sight of me, however, at this
same instant; the hall was dimly lighted with a flickering taper, and I
was in full view.
But to my surprise the man said nothing, but drew himself erect and his
musket snapped to a present. Drawing the heavy cloak that I had thrown
about my shoulders up to my nose, I hurried up the steps and returned
the soldier's salute in proper manner, but with shaking fingers, as I
passed him.
Here I was in the open air, and from the entrance a narrow causeway or
bridge led to the top of the wall. But all danger was not over, for at
the farther end stood two more red-coated gentry. One had called the
attention of the other to my approach, and there they were, drawn up
like two statues at attention. I should have to go between them. But the
light was very dim, and only boldness could serve my purpose. So I gazed
directly at them, and with a great bound of my heart in my throat, I saw
that I was going to be successful. They presented arms as I brushed by.
A small flight of stairs led down the wall on the outside, and here the
ditch was spanned by a foot-bridge, and on the bank stood another
sentry. I had wondered why I had not been asked for a password of some
sort, and now I feared that this last man would prove my downfall, and
that surely I would be stopped and asked some question. I hesitated as I
stood there half-way down the steps, and at this instant I noticed the
sentry across the bridge bring his musket to a half-charge with a ring
of his accoutrements. In the dusk I could see four or five figures
approaching, and then I heard the sentry call them to halt.
I could not make out the words that followed, but it was all merely
perfunctory business I recognized, as the approaching figures were
officers. Now fear often gives a man a judgment and cleverness that
support him in sore straits. There was but one chance, and I took it. I
turned about, retraced my steps, passed the two sentries, who saluted me
once more, then again the third man at the head of the stairway, and I
was back in the corridor.
When I had turned the angle of the passage, I entered one of the rooms,
and crouched down behind a curtain, holding my big hat in my lap. My
teeth chattered so that I feared the noise would be audible, and I had
been just in time, as, laughing and talking, the officers were
approaching.
As I sat crouched in a corner I perceived that they had some huge joke
among them. They were walking slowly, and I heard distinctly what
passed.
"The idea of Tillinghast forgetting the countersign strikes me as being
grand," exclaimed some one, with a guffaw at the end of the sentence.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed another. "I told you it was the author of
_Robinson Crusoe_, Tilly."
"Why, confound it all! I always thought that he himself wrote the book,"
roared a deep bass.
I recognized the speaker as the junior in command of the prison. It was
his clothes, by-the-way, that I had on my back at the moment.
"I think the Governor chose it for a play on words," said another. "A
poor pun even for him."
"Why we should require a password at all is more than I can see," said
Tillinghast. "Come down to my quarters, Carntyne. We have time for a
game of whist."
They passed on. I waited a few minutes, putting two and two together,
and suddenly it came to me. _I had the password at the tip of my
tongue!_ Hastily arising, I stepped outside of the room. It was but a
few yards to the bottom of the stairs, and I heard the sentry humming a
snatch of a tune, and keeping time to it with the stamping of his feet
in a sort of a jig. I was afraid that if I approached him the way that I
had done before, he might look closer, so I made believe that I was
carrying on the fag end of a conversation with some one, and answered an
imaginary question with a laugh (a trifle forced, I must admit).
"No, thanks," I said; "you gentlemen are too much for me. I must hasten.
Eh?" (A pause.) "I shall be back by nine o'clock, but I must hurry."
Then I charged up the steps as if the devil was after me. The grenadier
had hardly time to salute me; and I rushed past the other two at the end
of the causeway at the same pace. They made some remark after I had gone
by, but I did not catch it. More leisurely I descended the steps on the
outside of the wall, and crossed the little foot-bridge to where the
last sentry stood. His musket barred my path, but it was a respectful
attitude.
"The word, sir?" he said, slurring the usual challenge.
"Defoe," I answered. He hesitated. "Daniel Defoe," I repeated,
restraining with difficulty a mad impulse to close with him and pitch
him headlong into the ditch.
The response to this was a backward step on the sentry's part, and a
stiff attitude of present arms. I replied with somewhat of a flourish,
and hastened down the path. It led across a sort of common, bordered by
twinkling lights shining from some vine-covered houses, and in the
stillness I heard the sound of a fiddle played somewhere, and from
another direction the voice of an infant crying at top lung. What was I
to do? I had a good fund of general information, perhaps, owing to my
reading, and I had made up by this time the hiatus caused by my being
out of the world those two years at Belair; but I knew little or nothing
of the geography of England, and to save my soul I could not have
imagined which would be the best direction to take.
My one idea was to put as much space between me and the prison-yard as I
could, so I walked away from it with that end in view alone. It grew
very dark, and I kept to the common until I plunged through a thorny
hedge and made the road. It seemed to lead straight to the northward,
which was as good for me as any other point of the compass, so I
hastened along as fast as my legs could carry me.
The big military hat wobbled unsteadily on my head, and I thought how
difficult it would be to make any sort of a fight with such an
encumbrance to quick motions. But I reasoned I would attract a great
deal of attention if I should discard it, so I slung it over my back by
the plume, ready to clap it on if necessary, and went forward at a
dog-trot.
The villages in this part of the country were so close together that I
seemed hardly to leave one before I saw the lights of another. I was
evidently on the highway, however, and, strange to say, I met but a few
country people walking. They looked at me rather curiously, but did not
speak. Thus I had traversed some twelve miles or more before midnight,
and as there was a town of some size in the distance, judging by the
lights and the sounds of two separate sets of chimes striking the hour,
I determined to find some place where I could rest and think over the
situation.
At first glance I might pass for one of his Majesty's officers, perhaps,
but I could not stand an investigation without discovery. Yet I did not
despair, for I was young, and youth builds to suit its fancy. But
leg-weariness began to tell on me, and crawling in behind a hedge, I
rolled myself in a cloak, and must have fallen to dreaming on the
instant, for I began to go over the events of the last two days, and
from them my mind strayed back into the past; and among other things, of
course, thoughts of Mary Tanner came into my head and drove out all
else.
It seemed to me that again I was in a little garden under the shadow of
a rose-bush. I could recall Mary's arch smile and the sideway glance of
her eye. The imaginary conversation we held continued at great length,
and then the scene changed to the sea, and I was the Captain of a ship,
sailing, with a fair wind, to some country whose name I could not place,
but I knew that there Mary was waiting for me.
All at once I awoke and found myself with one hand in the breast of my
brilliant red coat, grasping a little leather bag that was strung around
my neck with a thong, containing all that I knew of that I could claim
in the way of earthly possessions. These consisted of one of the De
Brienne buttons, a single gold piece with the head of King Louis on it,
and a package of dried rose leaves twisted into a small bit of paper.
It was gray dawn; cocks were crowing, and the bleating of sheep sounded
from near by. With wonderful swiftness the light spread, and soon I
could see my surroundings. The road was but a stone's-throw away, and I
pushed through the hedge and found myself standing there not knowing
which way to turn; in fact, I feared it would make little matter which
choice I made--north, east, south, or west. I saw nothing but ultimate
recapture before me. "No matter what happens, I shall have a yarn to
spin," I said, grimly, to myself, as I stretched my stiffened legs and
rubbed my cold hands together to start my chilled blood going.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE OLD DAYS OF CLIPPER-SHIPS.
BY DUNCAN McLEAN.
During the great wars of Napoleon the mercantile shipping of the world
was much deranged, but at the peace of 1815 it began to revive. New York
organized splendid lines of packets, ranging from 500 to 1000 tons, and
these had the most of the passenger trade with Europe, principally with
Liverpool, London, and Havre. Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode
Island, and Connecticut built many smaller vessels, which traded with
all parts of the world, and which at the same time carried on an
extensive coasting and fishing business, and were manned almost
exclusively by American seamen.
As trade increased, ships were built faster than trained seamen could be
found to man them. This brought seamen from Europe, and in a few years
our shipping, excepting the officers, was manned by foreigners. Many
ship-builders of New England were also farmers, who made both
occupations pay. Although the size of our ships has been increased, and
their models have been improved, there has been no improvement in their
materials or in the style of their construction. As a rule, they were
built of the best seasoned white oak, copper-fastened, coppered, and
through treenailed, and they lasted longer than the best built ships of
thirty years ago. They were certainly far more seaworthy than the best
wooden ships of to-day. These, then, were the vessels which in so short
a time became the subject of remark all over the world. The term clipper
was first applied to schooners built at Baltimore (Maryland), designed
to trade with South America, Africa, the Mediterranean, and the West
Indies. They ranged in size from two hundred tons down to pilot-boats of
fifty tons, were sharp at the ends and sharp on the bottoms or floors,
and had raking masts. In time they became notorious as slave-traders and
pirates, and during the last war with Great Britain were successful
privateers. They were first upon the world of waters for speed and
weatherly qualities. The "long low black schooner" so often mentioned in
exciting sea-stories as a pirate was a clipper.
The late Captain R. B. Forbes, his father, mother, and two brothers,
embarked on board the _Orders in Council_ at Bordeaux (France), in 1813,
bound for the United States. She was one of a numerous fleet of
Baltimore and New York clippers, armed with six nine-pounders, and had a
crew of about twenty all told. Shortly after leaving port she was chased
by three British cutters, sloop-rigged, and outsailed them, but the wind
died away. The boats of the three cutters towed the _Wellington_, the
nearest, within range, and a fight ensued, which lasted over an hour,
when a breeze sprang up, and the _Orders in Council_ soon showed her
clipperly speed. A parting shot cut the cutter's peak-halyards away, and
before they could be replaced the American had escaped. War was then in
progress between the United States and Great Britain. During the war of
1812-14 American clipper-privateers captured over one thousand British
merchantmen.
The same year, Sir Walter Scott, the author of _Waverley_, while
returning in a cutter along the west coast of Scotland from a cruise
among the Shetland and Orkney islands, was chased by an American
privateer, and barely escaped capture. The result of this cruise was the
production of _The Pirate_, one of the best of his many delightful
books.
[Illustration: THE GREAT RACE ROUND CAPE HORN.]
Among the many great results of the discovery of gold in California in
1849, none were more interesting than the clippers which were built in a
few years to perform the carrying trade to the new El Dorado. Rapidly as
the population increased, it hardly kept pace with the means to furnish
supplies, notwithstanding the distance and the tempestuous nature of the
sea they had to be carried over. Month after month ships surpassing in
beauty and strength all that the world had before produced were built
and equipped by private enterprise, to form the means of communication
with the new land of promise. The most eminent ship-builders and
enterprising merchants vied with one another to lead in the great race
round Cape Horn. The common rules which had for years circumscribed
mechanical skill to a certain class of models were abandoned, and the
ship-owner contracted only for speed and strength. Ships varying in size
from 1000 to 3000 tons were soon built and sent to sea, and their
wonderful performances, instead of satisfying, increased the demand to
excel. The ship _Flying Cloud_, of 1700 tons, commanded by Captain
Creesy, made the passage from New York to San Francisco in 89 days and 4
hours. Such results would have satisfied most men that they had at last
produced a model that would defy competition, but such was not the
conclusion of Mr. Donald McKay, who built her and several other
successful clippers. He consulted their captains about wherein they had
failed to come up to his designs. Like a proof-reader, he only desired
to detect their errors. The floor, or bottom, of the _Flying Cloud_
represented the letter V. The next ship he designed was made to
represent the letter U. This gave her more capacity and increased
stability.
He built the _Sovereign of the Seas_, of 2400 tons, on his own account.
Although she did not make as short a passage from New York to San
Francisco as the _Flying Cloud_, yet she beat the swiftest of the entire
fleet, which sailed about the same time, 7 days. In 24 consecutive hours
she ran 430 geographical miles, 56 more than the greatest run of the
_Flying Cloud_, and in 10 consecutive days she ran, by observation, 3144
miles. In eleven months her gross earnings amounted to $200,000.
The following were the passages made from New York to San Francisco by
the clippers:
Tons. Passage.
Flying Cloud 1700 89 days.
Flying-Fish 1600 92 days.
Sovereign of the Seas 2400 103 days.
Bald Eagle 1600 107 days.
Empress of the Sea 2250 118 days.
Staghound 1550 112 days.
The following sailed from Boston to San Francisco:
Tons. Passage.
Westward Ho 1700 107 days.
Staffordshire 1950 101 days.
Mr. McKay built the _Great Republic_, of 4550 tons, with four decks; but
she was partly burned in New York in 1853, and when repaired the fourth
deck was taken off. She sailed several voyages between New York and San
Francisco, and was never beaten. During the Crimean war she was hired as
a transport by the French government, and with a leading whole-sail
breeze not a steamer, far less a sailing-vessel, could keep alongside of
her.
[Illustration: SHOWING DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE LINES OF THE OLD SHIPS AND
THE NEW CLIPPERS.]
The last great ship designed and built by Mr. McKay was the _Glory of
the Seas_, of 2009 tons. She was a combination of the clipper and the
New York packet-ship, designed to carry a large cargo, to sail fast, and
to work like a pilot-boat. She was 240 feet 2 inches long, had 44 feet
extreme breadth of beam, and was 28 feet deep, with three decks. Captain
Tom Chatfield, who commanded her several voyages, speaks of her as the
grandest vessel he ever knew. She is still afloat, and hails from San
Francisco. At one time she was owned by J. Henry Sears & Co., well known
as eminent merchants of Boston.