“The above narrative, which is a translation from the French, appeared a number of years ago, and has been obligingly placed at our disposal by the proprietors. We believe we are warranted in saying that it is in every particular true.”
The following story would have appeared absolutely incredible had not Basil Thomson [161] recorded the escape of eight prisoners from Dartmoor by the same stratagem as that attributed to a Norman Cross prisoner in a note in The Soldiers’ Companion or Martial Recorder, l. 190. 1824:
French Ingenuity
“A French Prisoner in Norman Cross Barracks had recourse to the following stratagem to obtain his liberty: He made himself a complete uniform of the Hertfordshire Militia, and a wooden gun, stained, surmounted by a tin bayonet. Thus equipped, he mixed with the guard (consisting of men from the Hertford Regiment), and when they were ordered to march out, having been relieved, Monsieur fell in and marched out too. Thus far he was fortunate, but when arrived at the guard room, lo! what befel him. His new comrades ranged their muskets on the rack, and he endeavoured to follow their example; but as his wooden piece was unfortunately a few inches too long, he was unabled to place it properly. This was observed, and the unfortunate captive obliged to forego the hopes of that liberty for which he had so anxiously and so ingeniously laboured.”
Before concluding this chapter, which has dealt with the conduct of the prisoners, two other facts may be mentioned. Shortly after the opening of the prison a disturbance among a batch of prisoners from Chatham led to the construction of the Black Hole and the requisition for two dozen handcuffs. In October of the following year the Depot narrowly escaped destruction by fire—whether accidental or the work of an incendiary is not known; two thatched huts adjoining the wooden buildings were in flames, but the exertions of the Military were sufficient to prevent the spread of the conflagration which would so easily, in unfavourable conditions as to wind, etc., have consumed the whole building. It was after this fire that an application was made for a fire-engine.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SICK AND THE HOSPITAL
Dangers stand thick through all the ground,
To push us to the tomb;
And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.Dr. Watts.
The general health of the prisoners was good, but occasional epidemics led to a temporary very heavy mortality, the miserable men who had sold their rations and clothes to provide money for gambling dying off so rapidly, and in such numbers, that no room could be found for them in the well-equipped hospital.
In November 1800 there broke out an appalling epidemic, which raged for five months and then began to abate; the daily average of deaths of the prisoners at this Depot during the four worst months of the pestilence was over eight. In this epidemic, 1800–01, during the six months with the heaviest mortality, 1,020 died. In the corresponding six months, 1801–02, when the mortality had been almost restored to what was normal, the deaths were only twenty. The staff could evidently not keep abreast of their work, the hospital was full to overflowing, and many of “Les Misérables” died in their hammocks in the caserns.
Enteric or typhoid fever was not known as a distinct disease until the last century was well advanced, and the epidemic was probably typhoid to which “Les Misérables” succumbed at the first shock, the cause of their death being registered as debility. It is a safe conjecture that some of the wells had been infected. That the authorities did not take this tragic visitation, without efforts to cope with it, is evidenced by short notes among the certificates of death; delicate prisoners and invalids were apparently sent to France, and others to special hulks. How inadequate was the meagre staff to meet an exceptional case such as this is proved by the fact that twenty-nine prisoners in the first four months of the year were taken out of their hammocks, dead or speechless, and could not be identified for entry in the register, of which a copy was regularly supplied to the French Government; they were buried unknown. It was not until the epidemic had abated, and a special investigation had been held, that Captain Woodriff was able to establish the identity of these twenty-nine persons; a special list of them is inserted in the register, and another list of five who were found to be alive in prison, and who had been returned as dead owing to mistaken identity.