In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

The wind was from the north, and we soon ran out of Hillsborough bay into Northumberland Strait, which we crossed to Cape St. George, where we went on shore for dinner.

The officer in charge of us did not mean to give us any opportunity either to run away from him or to overpower himself and men, for the moment the boat touched the shore he marched us up to a large tree not far from the beach. There he made us sit down, and placed six men with loaded guns around us with orders to shoot us down if we even attempted to rise, a thing we should have been glad to do as the long hours in the boat had cramped our limbs and rendered them stiff and uncomfortable.

Under his direction, the other four men built a fire, cooked the dinner, and with himself partook of it. The four fed soldiers then changed places with four of our guards, who had their rations. The remaining two were then relieved for their repast. When they were done a small amount of food was brought to us, but there was no time during our halt when we were not under the guard of at least six men, who had their muskets ready for instant use.

During the afternoon we rounded the Cape, and going down St. George’s Bay, passed through the gut of Canso to Chedabucto Bay, where we ran in to the Isle of Madame for the night. Within the walls of the garrison and under a strong guard furnished by the commander, we were kept securely until the morning, when our journey was resumed.

So far there had been no opportunity for us to have a single word of private conversation with one another, and if the same vigilance was maintained by our guards, we certainly should not have one. No plan for any concerted action towards our freedom could therefore be arranged by us. Yet we all knew by the looks the Captain occasionally gave us that he was watching for the moment when we might make such an effort with some hope of success, and we were all on the alert to assist him when such a move was made.

During the night the wind had whipped around, and now blew mildly from the south. It took us some time, therefore, to beat out around Cape Canso to the ocean, and when there what breeze there was left us. For a long time we lay there, gently tossing on the ground swell with the hot sun beating down upon our heads. The natural effect was for us to grow drowsy, and after a while even the men holding the guns were nodding sleepily.

When the lieutenant joined us in the morning he had the appearance of a man who had been up a good part of the night at his cups, and it now began to tell upon him. For a while he struggled to keep awake, and then, handing over the tiller to one of his men whom he sternly cautioned to keep a sharp lookout, he put himself in as comfortable a position as possible, with his head on the gunwale for a nap.

The heat had a similar effect on us Yankees, but we had an inducement to keep awake the red-coats did not have. By a glance at us Captain Tucker gave us to understand that the favorable moment for our action was close at hand, and with the prospect of our liberty before us we had no difficulty in keeping our eyes open.

Soon after the English officer dropped asleep, Captain Tucker changed his own position in the boat to one near the sleeping man. Here he assumed an easy posture as though he too would take a nap, yet we knew he was awake and was preparing to act.

That move came, however, sooner than we looked for it and in a way we had not expected. Catching the lieutenant suddenly by the feet, he tumbled him overboard, and so adroitly was it done that to all of his nodding men it had the appearance of an accidental fall into the sea.