Such reckless chronicling might well discredit the whole of this writer's account of the incidents; fortunately—or unfortunately—for him, however, there is another source of information in a "Biographical Memoir of Commodore Barney," by Mary Barney—his daughter, perhaps—published in 1832, in which the dates are more consistent with possibilities. Probably Mr. Maclay derived his information from this volume, and, by an extraordinary oversight, confused the two periods.
From this record it appears that Barney was a lieutenant on board the frigate Virginia when she was captured by the British on April 1st, 1778, and that he was very kindly treated by two English captains, Caldwell and Onslow, under whose charge he found himself for a time and subsequently, as related, by Admiral Byron.[15] Moreover, it is here stated that it was while serving on board a regular war-ship, the Saratoga, that Barney was a second time made prisoner, being captured when in charge of a prize, and not on board the Pomona at all: so here is more recklessness of narration, which appears quite inexcusable, as the writer, it is to be presumed, had access to this memoir, which is said to be compiled from Barney's own statements to the author.
Now, with regard to the shocking treatment of the prisoners on board the Yarmouth.
Mary Barney disclaims any wish to aggravate the case, declaring that she had the story from the lips of Joshua Barney, and appeals to his generous recognition of former kindness as a guarantee against wilful misrepresentation on this occasion.
Very good. But there is in existence the captain's log of the Yarmouth, also his letter to the Admiralty, reporting his arrival in England, and these official documents tend to discredit the dismal story in some important particulars.
The Yarmouth, we learn, sailed on November 15th, 1780, and arrived at Plymouth on December 29th—so she was forty-four, not fifty-three days at sea. The weather was very rough, and the ship developed some serious leaks, which increased alarmingly through the straining in the heavy sea. Under these circumstances, the ship's company being very sickly, with more than one hundred men actually on the sick list—one hundred and eleven, according to the "State and Condition" report on arrival—Captain Lutwidge states that he had the prisoners "watched"—i.e. divided into port and starboard watch, and set them to the pumps: "I found it necessary to employ the prisoners at the pumps, and on that account to order them whole allowance of provisions—the ship's company, from their weak and sickly state, being unequal to that duty."
According to the log, five prisoners, not eleven, died on the voyage, the deaths and burials at sea being precisely recorded.
So here we have the official record that, while the ship's company were too much enfeebled by sickness to work the pumps—in addition, of course, to constant handling of the heavy sails and spars in tempestuous weather—the American prisoners were sufficiently robust to perform this duty, and probably save the vessel from serious peril through her leaky condition.
In order to do this they must have been called on deck and mustered, placed in watches, and subsequently summoned in regular turn for their "spell" at the pumps.
This story is obviously incompatible with the other, and it is, to say the least of it, very remarkable that this pumping in watches, and full provision allowance, should have been entirely forgotten by Barney in his narration.