I almost forgot I was a prisoner in looking about me, for it all was new. I saw more ships gathered together than I had ever seen in the whole course of my life. Some were twice as large as the 74 Plantagenet that I had seen from the deck of the Minetta.
We rowed under the stern of a great vessel pierced on one side for sixty guns.
"This is the sort of a craft," said Sutton, pointing, "that Nelson and their Admirals won battles with. She could swing the Young Eagle at her side; eh, youngster?"
And well she could, I think, for it struck me that she was more of a floating fort than a sailing craft. Sheer-hulks and vessels outfitting crowded the inner harbor, and the constant hammering, tapping, and picking of an army of calkers filled the air.
When we reached the gangway on the port side we climbed up to the tall gallery. I had to smile. We might have been royal personages making a visit, for such ceremony I have never seen equalled. We passed between two files of marines and were inspected by three different groups of officers. They asked questions, and for some time seemed to be quite confident that Sutton was an Englishman. In this belief they were somewhat shaken when they saw his tattoo decorations, however.
At last our names were taken, and we passed below into the foul-smelling air of the 'tween-decks. Five or six hundred men were confined on board this ship, and as the guards had a generous portion set apart for themselves, the prisoners were much crowded. But we were not going to be kept here long; and although the time seemed to go slowly and was certainly most tedious, only a week elapsed before we were informed that we were going to be taken to a large prison near the town of Bristol.
On the twelfth day we were landed on the dock in Plymouth, and the dry ground felt odd to our feet, I can tell you. As luck had it, Sutton, Craig, and myself were in the first draft. It took us several days to travel from Plymouth to Bristol, being closely guarded by a squadron of cavalry and a battalion of infantry on the route.
It was a bright afternoon when we arrived on the outskirts of the city, where we halted but a few minutes, and I learned that we were yet several miles from Stapleton, where the prisons were situated. Despite our fatigue, we were hastened along a broad, dusty road that led to the north.
At six o'clock we skirted the edge of a vast domain that I found, by asking, was the private estate of the Duke of Devonshire, and before we knew it we were halted in front of a long row of stone buildings, behind the barred gratings of which appeared hundreds of pallid faces. As we passed over the drawbridge spanning the deep moat, we entered the court-yard, and found ourselves with the brown sombre prison-houses on either hand.
The chatter of French sounded all about us, for the majority of the prisoners were Frenchmen taken in the wars against Napoleon. The Americans were domiciled in a building apart from the Frenchmen, and did not appear to enjoy the garrulous, half-contented spirit of the others.