25. To-day we received sixpence per man, and the beef was deducted; the rest of the provisions continue, which, with sixpence per week, amounts to what we are allowed—fifteen pence, as before mentioned. This afternoon, the men in the Black-hole, being vexed by ill usage, and not being allowed to come out and take the air, broke down the Black-hole door, which alarmed the guard, and the agent ordered five of them to be put in irons; but the militia being on guard, and the officer being a great gentleman, he put only one of them in irons.
26. It is two years to-day since we sailed in the brig Dolton from Portsmouth. To-day the Parliament is to set, according to adjournment.
27. Wet, rainy, blustering, unsteady weather, which renders our confinement more tedious than in good weather, on account of our being obliged to keep house a great part of the time. At present, many in prison are destitute of shoes, and of late our prison has become very leaky. Along through the last of summer and the first of fall, for nearly three months, there was scarcely rain enough to wet the dust; but now, for a month past, there has been scarcely a day but there has been more or less rain; so that the grass in the fields looks much better now than it did in the month of August, when the fields were parched up for want of rain.
28. Nothing remarkable.
29. Sunday. To-day William Moody came to see us; I had not the least expectation of ever seeing him again in these parts, for I expected that he had got home before this, as he was cleared a long time ago. Where he has been ever since I cannot tell, but he tells us that he is now a carpenter of a privateer of eight guns, belonging to this port, in which he has been one cruise, and taken one French St. Domingo vessel.
30. Nothing remarkable.
December 1. This evening I had the privilege of reading the London Evening Post, in which is an account of the capture of three English frigates, by name the Minerva and the Acton, carried into the West Indies, and the Thundering Unicorn, into Boston.
2. This afternoon, one John Howe came to see us. He made his escape out of this prison a few months ago, and went on board the Blenheim, a guard ship in this port; and as he was one that petitioned to go on board the men-of-war, after he made his escape his pardon came down for him with the rest; so that he may come on shore, as often as he can get liberty, with safety. He induced two of the number who petitioned last to run away, at night, when they went out with their tubs, which they did, and a boy with them, but they were pursued by the guard, taken, and lodged in the Black-hole.
3. The three that were put in the Black-hole last night were taken out to-day. To-day I had the opportunity of seeing and reading the King’s speech on the 26th of last month, in which he seems very cool and moderate to what he was at the opening of the session last year. His speech was not long, but too long to be comprehended here; but he confesses that his arms have not met with the success that the justness of the cause and their exertions promised; and I think that he seems rather inclined to peace, as he says, if it can be attained consistently with the honor and dignity of the crown.
4. This evening we had two papers in prison, the Exeter paper and the London Evening Post; in the latter were the proceedings of Parliament. This paper says that the King was never seen to look so melancholy, and to speak so sorrowful, as on the 26th of Nov. last; and he was never seen to exert himself, except when he addressed the House of Commons for support. In the same paper are several fine speeches in favor of America; they lament the loss of Dominica, and deplore the situation of Great Britain and all her foreign territories.