On the 7th of July the packet arrived in Falmouth harbor and the prisoners were taken off in the press boats. A Captain Bult came on board and read an order from Sir George Collier, the purport of which was that Conyngham should be put in close confinement in Pendennis Castle until the wishes of the Lords of the Admiralty were known.
On his way to the castle he was gazed upon by the large crowds that had collected, as it had become noised about that “Conyngham the pirate” had been taken.
It was evident that the authorities wished to prove that Conyngham was still a subject of King George, for many times men were brought to see him in an attempt to identify him. On one occasion a woman was admitted to see him, so he records in his diary, who promised that he would be released if he acknowledged that he was her husband. Of course he indignantly repudiated such a trick, and discovered subsequently that her husband was a man who some years before had been accused of murder and had escaped out of the country.
Every night poor Conyngham was put in irons, and his diary is but a record of hardships and suffering. Curious people came in day after day to gaze at the prisoner, and yet there was no prospect of his being brought to trial.
On the 23d of July we find an entry as follows:
“A sailor declared in Falmouth before different people that he could take his oath that I was with Captain Jones when he threatened to set White Haven on fire. This was told me by Sergeant Williams of the guard, and this day the irons on my hands were beat close to my wrists.”
On the 24th of the month Conyngham was moved from the castle to the celebrated Mill prison. For the first time the irons were taken off when he was placed aboard the vessel that was to convey him to Plymouth, where immediately he was transferred to Mill prison. For a few days he was confined in what was known as the “Black Hole,” an underground dungeon without either light or air. It was not until the 7th of August that he was brought out for a preliminary trial, and then he was committed again to the prison by the justices of the peace, on the charge of high treason.
All this time Conyngham was planning to escape. Not an opportunity went by that he did not seize upon to extend his plans. After his being remanded on the high-treason charge, strange to say, his treatment improved and he was allowed the liberty of the jail-yard, and found opportunity on one or two occasions to converse with some of his fellow prisoners. Many of them were Frenchmen, who had been taken in the actions with the French fleet. On one occasion a battle was fought within hearing of Plymouth, and the soldiers and inhabitants, fearing that the French were going to attempt to land, began to throw up earthworks and entrenchments along the water front. Among the prisoners that were brought in was a Frenchman who had served in the capacity of surgeon on one of the captured vessels. He was a man of education, and his clothes were of a better character and texture than those of the other prisoners, who were mostly common seamen. He spoke no English, however, and Conyngham had to talk with him in French. Now it happened that the prison doctor, who made his round of visits every day, was a short, slight man, something of the young captain’s general build and appearance. The clothes he wore were black, and he usually carried a book under his arm in which he kept a record of his patients and their condition. It suggested itself to Conyngham that it might be easy for the Frenchman so to disguise himself that he might be taken for the doctor, and by walking out boldly past the sentries in the evening gain the outside of the prison walls and conceal himself in the town.
“All you need,” Conyngham observed, speaking in French, “is a pair of huge horn spectacles, pull your hat well down over your eyes, and walk out of the door. I’ve studied the doctor’s gait—he walks like this——”
Suiting the action to the word, Conyngham gave a very good imitation of the English doctor’s mincing step. The Frenchman laughed.