“And they even impressed three of our sailors after the War of 1812 had begun. I read about it not long ago, and remember very well how shamefully they were treated.
“They refused to serve against their country, and for that were punished with five dozen lashes, well laid on. Still they refused, and two days later got four dozen more, and two days after that two dozen more.
“But all the beating the British could give them wouldn’t make them fight against their country; so they put them in irons for three months, till the ship reached London.
“There they heard of the glorious victory of the Constitution over the Guerriere and were so rejoiced that they made a flag by tearing up some of their clothes into strips and sewing them together, then hung it on a gun and cheered for the Stars and Stripes. Of course, they got another flogging for that.
“But there were twenty thousand American seamen in the British navy, five times as many as we had in our own navy, and quite too many to beat into subjection, so they imprisoned thousands of them in old hulks, where they froze in winter and sweltered in summer and suffocated all the time—so crowded together they were hardly able to get a breath of fresh air; eaten up by vermin also, and only half-fed; on very poor food, too.
“Of course they grew sick, and altogether had a dreadful, dreadful life; all because they wouldn’t fight against their country.”
“It was awfully hard on them,” admitted Albert, “but please, Miss Lulu, don’t hold Englishmen of the present day responsible for what was done so many years ago.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said with a smile; “certainly I shall not hold you responsible, for I feel quite sure you would never be so unjust and cruel.”
“Thanks,” he returned with a gratified look, and she went on.
“I know there were Englishmen, even in that day, who wouldn’t have had one poor sailor so treated if they could have helped it. Captain Dacres, of the Guerriere, for one.