A journal, of a young man of Massachusetts, late a surgeon on board an American privateer, who was captured at sea by the British in May, eighteen hundred and thirteen and was confined first, at Melville Island, Halifax, then at Chatham, in England, and last at Dartmoor prison

by Benjamin Waterhouse

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.