After remaining two days in Paris, letters were delivered to me by the Doctor, to convey to the gentlemen by whom I had been employed, and which for their better security as well as my own, I deposited as the other, in the heel of my boot, and with which to the great satisfaction of my friends I reached Brintford, in safety, and without exciting the suspicion of any one as to the important (although somewhat dangerous) mission that I had been engaged in. I remained secreted in the house of ’Squire Woodcock a few days, and then by his and the two other gentlemen’s request, made a second trip to Paris, and in reaching which and in delivering my letters, was equally as fortunate as in my first. If I should succeed in returning in safety to Brintford this trip, I was (agreeable to the generous proposal of Doctor Franklin) to return immediately to France, from whence he was to procure me a passage to America;—but, although in my return I met with no difficulty, yet, as if fate had selected me as a victim to endure the miseries and privations which afterward attended me, but three hours before I reached Dover to engage a passage for the third and last time to Calais, all intercourse between the two countries was prohibited!
My flattering expectations of being enabled soon to return to my native country, and once more to meet and enjoy the society of my friends, (after an absence of more than twelve months) being thus by an unforeseen circumstance completely destroyed, I returned immediately to the gentlemen by whom I had been last employed to advise with them what it would be best for me to do, in my then unpleasant situation—for indeed, as all prospects were now at an end, of meeting with an opportunity very soon to return to America, I could not bear the idea of remaining any longer in a neighbourhood where I was so strongly suspected of being a fugitive from justice and under continual apprehension of being retaken, and immured like a felon in a dungeon.
By these gentlemen I was advised to repair immediately to London, where employed as a labourer, if I did not imprudently betray myself, they thought there was little probability of my being suspected of being an American. This advice I readily accepted as the plan was such a one as exactly accorded with my opinion, for from the very moment that I first escaped from the clutches of my captors, I thought that in the city of London I should not be so liable to be suspected and harassed by the soldiers, as I should to remain in the country. These gentlemen supplied me with money sufficient to defray my expenses and would have willingly furnished me with a recommendation had they not been fearful that if I should be so unfortunate as to be recognized by any one acquainted with the circumstance of my capture and escape, those recommendations (as their loyalty was already doubted) might operate much against them, in as much as they might furnish a clue to the discovery of some transactions which they then felt unwilling to have exposed. I ought here to state that before I set out for London, I was entrusted by these gentlemen with Five Guineas, which I was requested to convey and distribute among a number of Americans, then confined as prisoners of war, in one of the city prisons.
I reached London late in the evening and the next day engaged board at Five Shillings per week, at a public house in Lombard Street, where under a ficticious name I passed for a farmer from Lincolnshire—my next object was to find my way to the prison where were confined as prisoners of war a number of my countrymen, and among whom I was directed to distribute the 5 guineas with which I had been entrusted for that purpose by their friends at Brintford.—I found the prison without much difficulty, but it was with very considerable difficulty that I gained admittance, and not until I had presented the turnkey with a considerable fee would he consent to indulge me. The reader will suppose that I must have been very much surprised, when, as soon as the door of the prisoner’s apartment was opened, and I had passed the threshold, to hear one of them exclaim with much apparent astonishment, “Potter! is that you! how in the name of heaven came you here!”—an exclamation like this by one of a number to whom I supposed myself a perfect stranger, caused me much uneasiness for a few moments, as I expected nothing less than to recognize in this man, some one of my old shipmates, who had undoubtedly a knowledge of the fact of my being a prisoner of war, and having been confined as such on board the guard ship at spithead—but, in this I soon found to my satisfaction that I was mistaken, for after viewing for a moment the person by whom I had been thus addressed. I discovered him to be no other than my old friend seargent Singles, with whom I had been intimately acquainted in America—as the exclamation was in presence of the turnkey, least I should have the key turned upon me, and be considered as lawful a prisoner as any of the rest, I hinted to my friend that he certainly mistook me (a Lincolnshire farmer) for another person, and by a wink which he received from me at the same moment gave him to understand that a renewal of our acquaintance or an exchange of civilities would be more agreeable to me at any other time. I now as I had been requested divided the money as equally as possible among them, and to prevent the suspicions of the keeper, I represented to them in a feigned dialect peculiar to the labouring people of the Shire-towns, that, “me master was owing a little trifle or so to a rebel trader of one of his Majesty’s American provinces, and was quested by him to pay the ballance and so, to his brother yankee rebels here imprisoned.”
I found the poor fellows (fifteen in number) confined in a dark filthy apartment of about 18 feet square; and which I could not perceive contained any thing but a rough plank bench of about 10 feet in length, and a heap of straw with one or two tattered, filthy looking blankets spread thereon, which was probably the only bedding allowed them—although their situation was such as could not fail to excite my pity, yet, I could do no more than lament that it was not in my power to relieve them—how long they remained thus confined or when exchanged, I could never learn, as I never to my knowledge saw one of them afterwards.
For four or five days, after I reached London, I did very little more than walk about the city, viewing such curiosities as met my eye; when, reflecting that remaining thus idle, I should not only be very soon out of funds, but should run the risk of being suspected and apprehended as one belonging to one of the numerous gangs of pick-pockets &c. which infest the streets of the city; I applied to an Intelligence Office for a coachman’s berth, which I was so fortunate as to procure, at 15 shillings per week—my employer (J. Hyslop, Esq.) although rigid in his exactions, was punctual in his payments, and by my strict prudence and abstinence from the numerous diversions of the city, I was enabled in the six months which I served him, to lay up more cash than what I had earned the twelve months preceding. The next business in which I engaged was that of brick making, and which together with that of gardening, I pursued in the summer seasons almost exclusively for five years; in all which time I was not once suspected of being an American, yet, I must confess that my feelings were not unfrequently most powerfully wrought upon, by hearing my countrymen dubbed with cowardice, and by those too who had been thrice flogged or frightened by them when attempting to ascend the heights of Bunker Hill! and to be obliged to brook these insults with impunity, as to have resented them would have caused me to have been suspected directly of being attached to the American cause, which might have been attended with serious consequences.
I should now pass over the five years that I was employed as above mentioned, as checquered by few incidents worth relating, was it not for one or two circumstances of some little importance that either attended me, or came within my own personal knowledge. The reader has undoubtedly heard that the city of London and its suburbs, is always more or less infested with gangs of nefarious wretches, who come under the denomination of Robbers, Pickpockets, Shoplifters, Swindlers, Beggars, &c. who are constantly prowling the streets in disguise, seeking opportunities to surprise and depredate on the weak and unguarded—of these the former class form no inconsiderable portion, who contrive to elude and set at defiance the utmost vigilance of government—they are a class who in the day time disperse each to his avocation, as the better to blind the scrutinizing eye of justice, they make it a principle to follow some laborious profession, and at night assemble to proceed on their nocturnal rounds, in quest of those whose well stored pockets promise them a reward, equal to the risk which they run in obtaining it. As I was one evening passing through Hyde Park, with five guineas and a few pennies in my pockets, I was stopped by six of these lawless footpads; who, presenting pistols to my breast, demanded my money—fortunately for me I had previously deposited the guineas in a private pocket of my pantaloons, for their better security; thrusting their hands into my other pockets and finding me in possession of but a few English pennies, they took them and decamped. I hastened to Bow Street and lodged information of the robbery with the officers, and who to my no little surprise informed me that mine was the fifth instance, of information of similar robberies by the same gang, which had been lodged with them that evening!—runners had been sent in every direction in pursuit of them, but with what success I could never learn.
Despairing of meeting with a favourable opportunity to return to America, until the conclusion of peace, and the prospects of a continuation of the war being as great then (by what I could learn) as at any period from its commencement, I became more reconciled to my situation, and contracted an intimacy with a young woman whose parents were poor but respectable, and who I soon after married. I took a small ready furnished chamber, in Red Cross Street, where with the fruits of my hard earnings, I was enabled to live tolerable comfortable for three or four years—when, by sickness and other unavoidable circumstances, I was doomed to endure miseries uncommon to human nature.
In the winter of 1781, news was received in London of the surrender of the army of Lord Cornwallis, to the French and American forces!—the receipt of news of an event so unexpected operated on the British ministers and members of Parliament, like a tremendous clap of thunder—deep sorrow was evidently depicted in the countenances of those who had been the most strenuous advocates for the war—never was there a time in which I longed more to exult, and to declare myself a true blooded yankee—and what was still more pleasing to me, was to find myself even surpassed in expressions of joy and satisfaction, by my wife, in consequence of the receipt of news, which, while it went to establish the military fame of my countrymen, was so calculated to humble the pride of her own! greater proofs of her regard for me and my country I could not require.
The ministerial party in Parliament who had been the instigators of the war, and who believed that even a view of the bright glistening muskets and bayonets of John Bull, would frighten the leather apron Yankees to a speedy submission, began now to harbour a more favourable opinion of the courage of the latter. His Majesty repaired immediately to the house of peers, and opened the sessions of parliament—warm debates took place, on account of the ruinous manner in which the American war was continued; but Lord North and his party appeared yet unwilling to give up the contest. The capitulation of Cornwallis had however one good effect, as it produced the immediate release of Mr. Laurens from the Tower, and although it did not put an immediate end to the war, yet all hopes of conquering America from that moment appeared to be given up by all except North and his adherents.