For consolation in our present miserable condition, we were informed that the said honorable Board had indulgently permitted the American prisoners to establish and carry on any branch of manufacture, except such as netting, woollen fabrics, making straw hats and bonnets, &c. &c.; or rather, they prohibited every branch of manufactory which they were capable of pursuing. At this time they could have carried on the making of straw into flats for bonnets with very considerable advantage, as almost every sailor was more or less capable of working at this art, and, by strict attention to the business, could have earned six or eight pence sterling per day: but this was not permitted, and we considered this prohibition a contrivance of the agents of government to induce the prisoners to enter his majesty’s service. Their situation was now so abject and wretched, that they were willing to embrace any opportunity where there was the least prospect of bettering their condition, however repugnant to their feelings or sentiments; and though their country’s interest was ever nearest to their hearts, yet, through the faint hope of ameliorating their condition, and some day or other of returning to their native land, their wives and families, some of less fortitude were induced to join in arms against their country. It could not be a crime; for self-preservation is the first law of nature.
From the first of our imprisonment, which was shortly after the commencement of the war, prisoners were constantly arriving, and immediately disposed of in one or other of these depots:—among them were great numbers of American seamen who had been delivered up from the different ships of war in the English service, on board of which they had remained from one to ten years, and after receiving many dozen lashes at the gangway of the ships, were sent to prison with the appellation of “dammed rebellious villains, unfit for his majesty’s service!”
During the fall of the year one thousand eight hundred and twelve, until April in one thousand eight hundred and thirteen, the English had collected at the following depots the number hereinafter mentioned, who were mostly prisoners delivered up from ships of war, and citizens of the United States detained in them for some time before. At Chatham were collected about nine hundred; at Portsmouth, about one hundred; and at Plymouth, about seven hundred. These unfortunate men had often made application to Mr. Beasley, the agent for American prisoners of war, who resided in England, but were never able to obtain an answer from him. At this time, great numbers of the oldest prisoners were completely destitute of clothing, and the most active and cleanly unable to avoid being covered with vermin.
On the second of April, one thousand eight hundred and thirteen, the Transport Board, apprehending the escape of the prisoners, in consequence of their repeated threats to that purpose, issued an order to Captain Pelew, then agent for the prisoners at Plymouth, to make preparation for removing all the prisoners then confined on board the Hector prison-ship, at Plymouth, to the depot at Dartmoor, in the county of Devon, situated seventeen miles from Plymouth, in the back country.
These orders were accordingly made known to the prisoners; and on the morning of the third of April, they were ordered on deck, with their hammocks, baggage, &c., in readiness to march to a prison, the very name of which made the mind of every prisoner “shrink back with dread, and startle at the thought;” for fame had made them well acquainted with the horrors of that infernal abode, which was by far the most dreadful prison in all England, and in which it was next to impossible for human beings long to survive.
Two hundred and fifty dejected and unhappy sufferers, already too wretched, were called, each of whom received a pair of shoes, and his allowance of bread and salt fish. Orders were then immediately given, for every man to deliver up his bed and hammock, and to repair forthwith into the different launches belonging to the ships of war, which were alongside the ship, ready to receive them. The prisoners entered, surrounded by the guards and seamen belonging to the Hector and La Brave. We were landed at New Passage, near Plymouth, and were placed under the guard of a company of soldiers, equal in number to the prisoners! Orders were then given to march at half-past ten in the morning, with a positive injunction that no prisoner should step out of, or leave the ranks, on pain of instant death. Thus we marched, surrounded by a strong guard, through a heavy rain, and over a bad road, with only our usual and scanty allowance of bread and fish. We were allowed to stop only once during the march of seventeen miles.
We arrived at Dartmoor late in the after part of the day, and found the ground covered with snow. Nothing could form a more dreary prospect than that which now presented itself to our hopeless view. Death itself, with the hopes of an hereafter, seemed less terrible than this gloomy prison.
The prison at Dartmoor is situated on the east side of one of the highest and most barren mountains in England, and is surrounded on all sides, as far as the eye can see, by the gloomy features of a black moor, uncultivated and uninhabited, except by one or two miserable cottages, just discernible in an eastern view, the tenants of which live by cutting turf on the moor, and selling it at the prison. The place is deprived of every thing that is pleasant or agreeable, and is productive of nothing but human woe and misery. Even riches, pleasant friends and liberty could not make it agreeable. It is situated seventeen miles distant from Plymouth, fourteen from the town of Moorton, and seven from the little village of Tavastock.
On entering this depot “of living death,” we first passed through the gates, and found ourselves surrounded by two huge circular walls, the outer one of which is a mile in circumference and sixteen feet high; the inner wall is distant from the outer thirty feet, around which is a chain of bells suspended by a wire, so that the least touch sets every bell in motion, and alarms the garrison. On the top of the inner wall is placed a guard at the distance of every twenty feet, which frustrates every attempt at escape, and instantly quells every disorderly motion of the prisoners. Between the two walls and over the intermediate space, are also stationed guards. The soldiers’ guard house, the turnkey’s office, and many other small buildings, are also within these two circular walls. Likewise several large commodious dwelling-houses, which are occupied by the captain of the prison, doctor, clerks, turnkeys, &c., &c. Inside of the walls are erected large barracks, capacious enough to contain one thousand soldiers, and also a hospital for the reception of the sick. No pains have been spared to render the hospital convenient and comfortable for the sick prisoner. And certainly much credit is due to the director of this humane institution, whoever he may have been, for the attention paid to this most important appendage of an extensive prison. These last mentioned buildings, and several small store-houses, are enclosed by a third wall. These three ranks of walls form in this direction a barrier which is insurmountable.
Thus much for the court-yard of this seminary of misery; we shall next proceed to give a description of the gloomy mansion itself. On entering, we found seven prisons enclosed in the following manner, and situated quite within all the walls before mentioned. Prison No. 1, 2 and 3, are built of hard, rough, unhewn stone, three stories high, one hundred and eighty feet long and forty broad; each of these prisons, on an average, are to contain fifteen hundred prisoners. There is also attached to the yard of these prisons a house of correction, called a cachot; this is built of large stone, arched above and floored with the same. Into this cold, dark, and damp cell, the unhappy prisoner is cast if he offend against the rules of the prison, either willingly or inadvertently, and often on the most frivolous pretence. There he must remain for many days, and often weeks, on two-thirds the usual allowance of food, without a hammock or bed, and nothing but a stone pavement for his chair and bed. These three prisons are situated on the north side of the enclosure, as is also the cachot, and separated from the other prisons by a wall. Next to these is another, No. 4, which is equally as large as any of the others; this is separated from all the others by a wall on each side, and stands in the centre of the circular walls.