Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the Mast

by James Fenimore Cooper

Soon after the French arrived, four hundred of us Americans were put on board transports, and we sailed for Halifax, under the convoy of the Ramilies. A day or two after we got out, we fell in with an American privateer, which continued hovering around us for several days. As this was a bold fellow, frequently coming within gun-shot, and sporting his sticks and canvass in all sorts of ways, Sir Thomas Hardy felt afraid he would get one of the four transports, and he took all us prisoners into the Ramilies. We staid in the ship the rest of the passage, and when we went into Halifax it was all alone, the four transports having disappeared. Two of them subsequently got in; but I think the other two were actually taken by that saucy fellow.

The prisoners, at first, had great liberty allowed them, on board the Ramilies. On all occasions, Sir Thomas Hardy treated the Americans well. A party of marines was stationed on the poop, and another on the forecastle, and the ship's people had arms; but this was all the precaution that was used. The opportunity tempted some of our men to plan a rising, with a view to seize the ship. Privateer officers were at the head of this scheme, which was communicated to me, among others, soon after the plot was laid. Most of the prisoners knew of the intention, and everybody seemed to enter into the affair with hearty good-will. Our design was to rise at the end of the second dog-watch, overcome the crew, and carry the ship upon our own coast. If unable to pass the blockading squadrons, we intended to run her ashore. The people of the Ramilies outnumbered us by near one-half, and they had arms, it is true; but we trusted to the effect of a surprise, and something to the disposition of most English sailors to get quit of their own service. Had the attempt been made, from what I saw of the crew, I think our main trouble would have been with the officers and the marines. We were prevented from trying the experiment, however, in consequence of having been betrayed by some one who was in the secret, the whole of us being suddenly sent into the cable tiers and amongst the water casks, under the vigilant care of sentinels posted in the wings. After that, we were allowed to come on deck singly, only, and then under a sentinel's charge. When Sir Thomas spoke to us concerning this change of treatment, he did not abuse us for our plan, but was mild and reasonable, while he reminded us of the necessity of what he was doing. I have no idea he would have been in the least injured, had we got possession of the ship; for, to the last, our people praised him, and the treatment they received, while under his orders.

Before we were sent below, Sir Thomas spoke to me again, on the subject of my joining the English service. He was quite earnest about it, and reasoned with me like a father; but I was determined not to yield. I did not like England, and I did like America. My birth in Quebec was a thing I could not help; but having chosen to serve under the American flag, and having done so now for years, I did not choose to go over to the enemy.

At Halifax, fifteen or twenty of us were sent on board the old Centurion, 44, Lord Anson's ship, as retaliation-men. We eight were of the number. We found something like thirty more in the ship, all retaliation-men, like ourselves. Those we found in the Centurion did not appear to me to be foremast Jacks, but struck me as being citizens from ashore. We were well treated, however, suffering no other confinement than that of the ship. We were on "six upon four," it is true, like other prisoners, but our own country gave us small stores, and extra bread and beef. In the way of grub, we fared like sailor kings. At the end of three weeks, we eight lakesmen were sent to Melville Island, among the great herd of prisoners. I cannot explain the reason of all these changes; but I know that when the gate was shut on us, the turnkey said we had gone into a home that would last as long as the war lasted.

Melville is an island of more than a mile in circumference, with low, rocky shores. It lies about three miles from the town of Halifax, but not in sight. It is connected with the main by a bridge that is thrown across a narrow passage of something like a quarter of a mile in width. In the centre of the island is an eminence, which was occupied by the garrison, and had some artillery. This eminence commanded the whole island. Another post on the main, also, commanded the prisoners' barracks. These barracks were ordinary wooden buildings, enclosed on the side of the island with a strong stone wall, and on the side of the post on the main, by high, open palisades. Of course, a sufficient guard was maintained.

It was said there were about twelve hundred Americans on the island, when I passed the gate. Among them were a few French, some of whom were a part of the crew of the Ville de Milan, the ship that had been taken before I first left Halifax; or more than eight years previously to this time. This did, indeed, look like the place's being a home to a poor fellow, and I did not relish the circumstance at all. Among our people were soldiers, sailors, and 'long-shore-men'. There was no difference in the treatment, which, for a prison, was good. We got only "six upon four" from the English, of course; but our own country made up the difference here, as on board the Centurion. They had a prison dress, with one leg of the trowsers yellow and the other blue, &c.; but we would not stand that. Our agent managed the matter so that we got regular jackets and trowsers of the true old colour. The poor Frenchmen looked like peacocks in their dress, but we did not envy them their finery.

I had been on the island about a fortnight, when I was told by Jack Mallet that a woman, whom he thought to be my sister, was at the gate. Jack knew my whole history, and came to his opinion from a resemblance that he saw between me and the person who had inquired for me. I refused to go to the gate, however, to see who it was, and Jack was sent back to tell the woman that I had been left behind at Bermuda. He was directed to throw in a few hints about the expediency of her not coming back to look for me, and that it would be better if she never named me. All this was done, I getting a berth from which I could see the female. I knew her in a moment, although she was married, and had a son with her, and my heart was very near giving way, especially when I saw her shedding tears. She went away from the gate, however, going up on the ramparts, from which she could look down into the prison-yard. There she remained an hour, as if she wished to satisfy her own eyes as to the truth of Jack's story; but I took good care to keep out of her sight.

As I knew there was little hope of an exchange of prisoners, I now began to think of the means of making my escape. Jack Mallet dared not attempt to swim, on account of the rheumatism and cramps, having narrowly escaped drowning at Bermuda, and he could not join in our schemes. As for myself, I have been able to swim ever since danger taught me the important lesson, the night the Scourge went down. Money would be necessary to aid me in escaping, and Jack and I put our heads together, in order to raise some. I had still the ten dollars given me by Sir Thomas Hardy, and I commenced operations by purchasing shares in a dice-board, a vingt et un table, and a quino table.[12] Jack Mallet and I, also, set up a shop, on a capital of three dollars. We sold smoked herring, pipes, tobacco, segars, spruce beer, and, as chances of smuggling it in offered, now and then a little Jamaica. All this time, the number of the prisoners increased, until, in the end, we got to have a full prison, when they began to send them to England. Only one of the Julias was sent away, however, all the rest remaining at Melville Island, from some cause I cannot explain.

I cannot say we made money very fast. On every shilling won at dice, we received a penny; at vingt et un, the commission was the same; as it was also at the other games. New cards, however, brought a little higher rate. All this was wrong I now know, but then it gave me very little trouble. I hope I would not do the same thing over again, even to make my escape from Melville Island, but one never knows to what distress may drive him.

Some person among the American prisoners--a soldier it was said--commenced counterfeiting Spanish dollars. I am afraid most of us helped to circulate them. We thought it no harm to cheat the people of the canteens, for we knew they were doing all they could to cheat us. This was prison morality, in war-time, and I say nothing in its favour; though, for myself, I will own I felt more of the consciousness of wrong-doing in holding the shares in the gambling establishments, than in giving bad dollars for poor rum. The counterfeiting business was destroyed by one of the dollars happening to break, as some of the officers were pitching them; when, on examination, it turned out that most of the money in the prison was bad. It was said the people of the canteens had about four hundred of the dollars, when they came to overhaul their lockers. A good many found their way into Halifax.