At the end of 1814 there were at Dartmoor 2,350 Americans. There seemed to be much prosperity in the prison: the market was crowded with food, and hats and boots and clothes; Jew traders did a roaring trade in watches, seals, trinkets, and bad books; sharp women also were about, selling well-watered milk at 4d. a gallon; the ‘Rough Alleys’ were in great strength, and kept matters lively all over the prison.
Number 4 caserne was inhabited by black prisoners, whose ruler was ‘King Dick,’ a giant six feet five inches in height, who, with a huge bearskin hat on head, and a thick club in hand, exercised regal sway, dispensing justice, and, strange to say, paying strict attention to the cleanliness of his subjects’ berths. Nor was religion neglected in No. 4, for every Sunday ‘Priest Simon’ preached, assisted by ‘Deacon John’, who had been a servant in the Duke of Kent’s household, and who at first urged that Divine Service should be modelled on that customary on British men-of-war and in distinguished English families, but was overruled by the decision of a Methodist preacher from outside. ‘King Dick’ always attended service in full state. He also kept a boxing school, and in No. 4 were also professors of dancing and music and fencing, who had many white pupils, besides theatricals twice a week, performed with ludicrous solemnity by the black men, whose penchant was for serious and tragical dramas. Other dramatic performances were given by an Irish Regular regiment from Spain, which relieved the Derby Militia garrison, in the cock-loft of No. 6 caserne, the admission thereto being 6d.
Still, there was much hunger, and when it was rumoured that Jew clothes-merchants in the market were dealing with undue sharpness with unfortunate venders, a raid was made by the Americans upon their stalls and booths which wrought their destruction.
Beasley was still a bête noire. His studied neglect of the interests of those whose interests were in his charge, his failure to acquaint himself by personal attention with their complaints, made him hated far more than were the British officials, excepting Shortland. One day he was tried in effigy, and sentenced to be hung and burnt. A pole was rigged from the roof of No. 7 caserne, Beasley’s effigy was hung therefrom, was cut down by a negro, taken away by the ‘Rough Alleys’, and burnt. On the same day, ‘Be you also ready’ was found painted on the wall of Shortland’s house. He said to a friend:
‘I never saw or ever read or heard of such a set of Devil-daring, God-provoking fellows, as these same Yankees. I had rather have the charge of 5,000 Frenchmen, than 500 of these sons of liberty; and yet I love the dogs better than I do the d——d frog-eaters.’
On March 20, 1815, came the Ratification of Peace, but, although this made the Americans virtually free men, much of a lamentable nature was to happen ere they practically became so.
As is so often the case in tragedy, a comparatively trifling incident brought it about.
On April 4, 1815, the provision contractors thought to get rid of their stock of hard bread (biscuit) which they held in reserve by serving it out to the prisoners instead of the fresh bread which was their due. The Americans refused to have it, swarmed round the bakeries on mischief intent, and refused to disperse when ordered to. Shortland was away in Plymouth at the time, and the officer in charge, seeing that it was useless to attempt to force them with only 300 Militia at his command, yielded, and the prisoners got their bread. When Shortland returned, he was very angry at what he deemed the pusillanimous action of his subordinate, swore that if he had been there the Yankees should have been brought to order at the point of the bayonet, and determined to create an opportunity for revenge.
This came on April 6. According to the sworn testimony of witnesses at the subsequent inquiry, some boys playing at ball in the yard of No. 7 caserne, knocked a ball over into the neighbouring barrack yard, and, upon the sentry on duty there refusing to throw it back, made a hole in the wall, crept through it, and got the ball. Shortland pretended to see in this hole-making a project to escape, and made his arrangements to attract all the prisoners out of their quarters by ringing the alarm bell, and, in order to prevent their escape back into them, had ordered that one of the two doors in each caserne should be closed, although it was fifteen minutes before the regulation lock-up time at 6 o’clock. It was sworn that he had said: ‘I’ll fire the d——d rascals presently.’
At 6 p.m. the alarm bell brought the prisoners out of all the casernes—wherein they were quietly settled—to see what was the cause. In the market square were ‘several hundred’ soldiers, with Shortland at their head, and at the same time many soldiers were being posted in the inner wall commanding the prison yards. One of these, according to a witness, called out to the crowd of prisoners to go indoors as they would be charged on very soon. This occasioned confusion and alarm and some running about. What immediately followed is not very clear, but it was sworn that Shortland ordered the soldiers to charge the prisoners huddled in the market square; that the soldiers—men of the Somerset Militia—hesitated; that the order was repeated, and the soldiers charged the prisoners, who retreated into the prison gates; that Shortland ordered the gates to be opened, and that the consequent confusion among hundreds of men vainly trying to get into the casernes by the one door of each left open, and being pushed back by others coming out to see what was the matter, was wilfully magnified by Shortland into a concerted attempt to break out, and he gave the word to fire.