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.