Some of them (no doubt sailors,) made models of ships, exact in the minutest details. Others, of the same material, made work-boxes, watch-stands, statuettes (one of the crucifixion and madonna), boxes of dominoes, a carved spinning-jenny, the figures representing the costumes of the period, guillotines, models of the block-house (partly wood), and many more articles of all descriptions.
Besides these really wonderful survivals of the soup-caldron (which by the way was five feet across, and more than three feet deep), the straw work of the prisoners was equally beautiful. There was a model of the noble west front of Peterborough Cathedral in straw marqueterie (and another in grass); also a picture representing a church, with mill and bridge, and a barge on the river; with all kinds of boxes, fire-screens, dressing-cases, tea-caddies, etc. These are given simply as specimens of the really skilled work they did, and which must have cost them much patience, and an infinite amount of care and trouble.
It is said that some of the prisoners made a good deal of money by the sale of these articles to visitors at the prison, and that when their liberation came at last, they had amassed fabulous little fortunes. At all events, their industry was rewarded. They obtained the means of adding to their comforts; and much better than this, whether they gained much or
little in money, busy employment saved them from that greatest of all evils, the curse of even enforced idleness.
And so the handiwork of the prisoners of Norman Cross, who wisely chose to work, instead of idly repining in their trouble, is a useful lesson to all—to make the best of our circumstances, however trying and forlorn, by doing with our might the work we can do, even if it be not the work we like the best.
CHAPTER VIII.—AN ENEMY TURNS UP.
Captain Draper had only been eighteen months at Norman Cross when, to the great regret of all—prisoners, officials, and soldiers, he was seized with sudden illness and died. He was admirably fitted for the position he held there, but, like many a man engaged in much higher and more important work than his, and for which far greater qualifications are required, he was cut off in the midst of his usefulness.
That we cannot understand why such things happen is only to confess how limited is our knowledge; to complain of them, is to doubt the goodness and wisdom of the Almighty. Perhaps it is not a bad guess to suppose they are intended to teach us that most wholesome lesson—that few in this world are important, none necessary.
Every possible token of respect was shewed to his memory. With the prisoners themselves it was more than respect. Rough as many of them were, demoralized by severance from family ties, soured by hopelessness, they had found a man, to use an expression of holy writ, who had showed them “the kindness of God” in their affliction: and now he was gone from them for ever.
They addressed a petition to the commandant that some of them might be allowed to attend the funeral at Yaxley Church, a request which Major Kelly granted with the greatest readiness, and was much touched by the concluding words of the petition, that he need not be afraid of incurring any risk by letting them come out for the occasion, because, wild as many of them were, there was not a single man amongst them that was such a mauvais sujet as to take advantage of the opportunity to attempt his escape.