Benjamin Waterhouse
A Journal of a Young Man of Massachusetts, 2nd ed.
The riot did not end here; for when the commander found that he could not keep the port entirely shut, he ordered the marines to drive the prisoners off the forecastle down into the pound, which occasioned the boys to sing out as before; and even to be more insulting. This he was determined to bear no longer; and he therefore drove them all below, allowing only the cooks to remain in the galley, and the caterers to go upon deck, to get water from the tanks. The market boats were forbidden to come near us; and in this state of embargo we remained during two days, all the time confined merely to the government allowance of food. At length, the committee requested the commander to transmit some letters for them to the American agent for prisoners, and to the British commodore. This he could not well refuse. These two officers accordingly came down to us. They requested the president of the committee to state to them the cause and course of the dispute. Mr. Osmore stated his complaint, and the president of our committee replied, and stated ours; and among other things, observed that the word "baa," had no more meaning than a thousand other senseless cries, uttering constantly from the throats of idle, thoughtless boys; and begged Mr. Osmore to explain how such an unmeaning sound could be construed into an insult to him; that if he and his officers should cry baa! baa! baa! all day, none of the Americans would think themselves injured or affronted. As to forcibly keeping the port open, the president observed, that however offended he might be, with a saucy boy, the men did not deserve to be deprived of the light of heaven, and to be confined below, and reduced to a smaller allowance of food. The result was, the hatches were ordered to be taken off; and we were all restored to our former situation. Capt. Hutchinson acquired an additional stock of popularity with the prisoners for this decision in our favor. The prisoners are discriminating, and not ungrateful. The sailing-master, who is a Scotchman, has always treated us with great tenderness and humanity. He has attended to our little conveniences; and forwarded our letters. Mr. Barnes never descends to little contemptible extortions; nor is he on the continual watch, lest his dignity should suffer by a look, a tone, or a playful interjection. When Osmore is absent, and Barnes gives orders, they are instantly and cheerfully obeyed. If there is any disorder, this worthy Scotchman can, by a word, restore harmony, of which we might give many instances. In reprimanding a boy, the other day, for ill behavior, he said to him, "I expect better things of you as an American; I consider you all in a different light from that of a d—d set of French monkies."
Mr. Galbreath is, likewise, a Scotchman; and he, too, is a very worthy man. These two worthy Caledonians operate together in alleviating our hard lot; and they do as much to please us, as the jealous and revengeful disposition of some body else will admit of. We are all pretty healthy, and the hospital arrangements on board are broken up.—Some few remain on board the hospital ship.
Tenders are daily passing down the river, filled with seamen and marines, bound to America. As they pass by us, they play "Yankee Doodle," and cry out to us, that they are bound to America, to flog the Yankees. We hollow to them, in return, and tell them what they will meet there, and predict to them their fate. Some of these fellows have been seven years at sea; and would desert to our colors the first opportunity. These white slaves expected to enjoy a little something like freedom, at the conclusion of the peace; but instead of setting their feet on shore, they are now sent off to leave their bones in America, without a moment's previous notice of their destination.
June 30th, 1814. Early in this month three men concealed themselves in the water-tank, through the connivance of the corporal of the guard; and so escaped from prison. More would have gone off by the same conveyance, had not one of the fugitives written an ironical letter to the commander, thanking him for his tenderness, humanity and extreme kindness, and foolishly acquainting him with the method he took to effect his escape; and this led to his recapture. Another fellow had the address to conceal himself in an old worn out copper that was sent to the dock to be exchanged for a new one. This man got safe out of the copper, but he found himself as bad off in the dock as in the prison ship. After roving and rambling about the dock, he was taken up by the guard, and rather than be sent on board a man of war, he confessed he had broken out of the prison ship; and he was immediately brought back to his former companions.
A rage exists for cutting holes through the wood work and copper of the ship; but no one has succeeded in escaping through them; neither have the enemy succeeded in their search after our tools. The holes were always discovered as the men were ready to enter the breach, which led us to suspect that we have secret informers among our crew, perhaps some Irish, Dane, or Dutchman.
A most daring attempt to escape was made on board the commodore's ship, the Irresistible, by four American prisoners. It is worth relating for its boldness; for it was in the open day, when all eyes were upon them. The jolly-boat lay near the stairs, with her oars in, under the care of a sentry. Notwithstanding she was thus guarded, four brave Americans resolved to seize her in spite of musketry, and row on shore, and run for it. One of them was from Rhode Island, being an Indian of the Narraganset tribe; he was a man of large stature and remarkable strength; and it was agreed that he should lead the way, in the bold enterprize. This stout man, whose name I wish I could remember, saw, as he thought, a favorable moment, and went down the side of the ship, followed by three others; he seized the sentry, and, in a moment, disarmed him, and threw him into the jolly-boat, which was below the staging, where the sentinel was placed. He immediately jumped in after him, the other three closely followed him, when they instantly pushed off, snatched up the oars, and rowed direct for the shore, with the agility of so many Nantucket-whalemen. The rapidity and complete effect with which all this was done, was astonishing to the British! They were, however, soon fired upon by all the sentries, who had any chance of reaching them, from all the ships as they passed. They got out their numerous boats with all speed; and placed in the bow of each as many marines as could well stand; and these kept up a continued fire of musketry upon the four fugitives in the jolly-boat, ballasted with a British prisoner. Notwithstanding close and heavy firing, they wounded but one of the four; so that three of them were able to run for it when the boat reached the shore. As soon as they sat foot on shore, they made directly for the fields. The marines soon followed, firing every few moments upon them, but without hitting them. Our men so completely distanced them, that we all thought they would make their escape from his majesty's marines, and they would have effected it, had not the country people poured out of the farm-houses, and the brick-yards. In a few minutes the fields appeared covered with people. They outran the marines, and pursued our brave adventurers so closely from all points, that they exhausted them of breath, and fairly run them down, all except the nervous Indian, and he did honor to the Narraganset tribe, and his brave ancestors, so renowned in New England history. We saw him from the Crown Prince prison ship, skipping over the ground like a buck, and defying his pursuers; but unfortunately for this son of the forest, he sprained his ancle in leaping a fence, which compelled him to surrender; otherwise he might have ran on to London, in fair chase, before they could have come up with him.
While sitting on the ground, and unable to walk, by reason of his dislocated bone, the country people approached him with caution. They did not think it quite safe to come close up to a man of his extraordinary stature, and commanding aspect. He was, however soon surrounded by a large number of marines, who had the great honor of recapturing a lame Indian, and conducting him back again to his Britannic majesty's fleet of three deckers, at anchor off his royal dock of Chatham!
We made several attempts to gain our liberty while lying in the river Medway; but none of our daring feats equalled this of the Indian. We gave him the name of Baron Trenck, and pronounced him his superior; for he had to pass the fire of several ships; and the jolly-boat appeared to be surrounded in a shower of shot, and yet only one man was wounded in the leg. When the Indian had made the fields, and was ascending the rising ground, all the prisoners in our ship gave him three cheers. We cheered him as he came along back in the boat with his comrades, and drank their healths in the first liquor we obtained. It is for deeds of bravery, and indications of a commanding mind, and superior strength, and agility of body, that our aboriginals in North America, appoint their kings; and certainly there is more sense and reason in it, than making the son a king because his father was king. This Indian was, by nature, a commander.
Something of the same cool and daring character was conspicuous in the master and crew of a very small New England schooner, in September 1759, when General Wolfe was investing Quebec by sea and land, and when the army and fleet under admiral Holmes, were cannonading and bombarding the city and numerous batteries of the French.
Amidst the grand movements of the army and navy, a schooner of the most diminutive size, which the navigator after called "the Terror of France," weighed her little anchor, and, to the astonishment of every one, was seen sailing past the batteries, up to the city. The French fired a great number of shot at her; nevertheless Jonathan steered steadily on, and got safe up, with her colors flying; and coming to anchor in the upper river, she triumphantly saluted admiral Holmes with a discharge from all her swivels. She met with no accident, except one man being slightly wounded on board. During this, says captain Knox, our batteries fired briskly on the town, to favor her as she passed. While the officers and gunners were enraged at what they deemed a contempt of their formidable batteries, other officers apologized afterwards for firing at this diminutive vessel, which was not much bigger than a man of war's launch, observing, that they imagined her passing to be the result of a frolicsome wager. They little thought that she was a New England trader, or rather huxter, ladened with notions, such as apples, dried and green, apple-sauce, onions, cheese, molasses, New England rum, and gingerbread, and a number of little ditto's, suitable, as the skipper thought, for the Quebec market, after it should have changed masters.
When the Captain of this famous little schooner went on board the British admiral, he enquired the name of his vessel. He replied, "The Terror of France;" which was painted on her stern. How are you armed? We have four swivels, three muskets, and one cutlass, beside a broad axe. How many men have you? We have three souls and a boy.—And where does your vessel belong, Captain, when you are at home? Updike's Newtown. And where is that, Sir? Does not Admiral Holmes know where Updike's Newtown is? says Jonathan, with a look of surprize. I do not at this moment recollect, Sir. Why Updike's Newtown is half way betwixt Pautuxet and Connanicut. The British admiral did not choose to risk his reputation with this fearless waterfowl, by asking him any more geographical questions.
We have dwelt on this ludicrous anecdote for the sake of one serious remark. Capt. John Knox, of the 43d British regiment, whose Historical Journal, in 2 volumes quarto, is dedicated to General Lord Amherst, never once intimates that this courageous man was from New England, but leaves the reader to infer that he and his "three souls and a boy," were Englishmen. In this way have all the British writers treated us Americans, although we all know in this country, that Louisbourg was taken by New-England-men. Throughout the whole war of 1758, and 1759, the English strained their voices to magnify themselves, and debase our character.
In this anecdote we see the first glimmerings of the New England character, which defies all danger, in the pursuit of gain. Here we see the characteristic marks of the Yankee, full twenty years before that term was ever used. The greatest things were once in embryo. These incipient germs will one day grow up to a naval and commercial greatness, that will infallibly push into the back-ground the conquerors of Quebec; and the spirit, which impelled and directed that diminutive schooner in passing safely hundreds of heavy cannon, and showers of bombs, may one day become not only the terror of France, but of England also. Great effects flow from trifling causes. It was a woman's8 love of finery that peopled New England.
It was, to be sure, an extraordinary sight, mixed with something of the ludicrous, to see three white Americans, and one Indian, with a disarmed British red coat under their feet, in the jolly-boat, not daring to raise his head, while about thirty boats, with above 250 seamen, and nearly as many marines, were rowing, and puffing and blowing, and firing and loading, and loading and firing at a small boat, containing three American seamen and one Indian, without any weapon or instrument, except the oars they rowed with! While the British marines were ruffling the water around the flying boat with their bullets, we, on board the prison ships, sensible of their danger, felt as much interest, and probably more apprehension, than the fugitives themselves.—It was an anxious period of hope, fear and animating pride, which sometimes petrified us into silence, and then caused us to rend the air with acclamations, and clapping of hands. The Indian was, however, the hero of the piece. We saw, and admired his energetic mind, his abhorrence of captivity, and his irresistible love of freedom. This fellow was not, probably, at all below some of the Grecian captains, who went to the siege of Troy; and he only wanted the advantages of education, and of modern discipline, to have become a distinguished commander. The inspiring love of liberty was all the theme, after the daring exploit of our countrymen; and it made us uneasy, and stimulated us to contemplate similar acts of hardihood. We had now become pretty nearly tired of cutting holes through the ship's bottom and sides; for it was always detected, and we were made to pay for repairing the damage out of our provisions. After seeing what four men could effect, our thoughts turned more upon a general insurrection, than upon the partial escapes of a few. We perceived, clearly enough, that our keepers dreaded our enterprizing spirit; and we could discover that they knew we despised them, and ridiculed them. Some of our saucy boys, studying arithmetic, with their slates and pencils in their hands, would say out loud, as if stating a sum, "if it took 350 British seamen and marines to catch four yankees, how many British sailors and marines would it take to catch ten thousand of us?"
We could perceive a general uneasiness throughout our ship; even our good friend, Mr. –, the worthy Scotchman, said to me, about this time, "your countrymen are such a restless, daring set of beings, that it is not safe to befriend you, and I wish you were all safe and happy in your own country; and all of us at peace." A change of situation was foretold; but of what kind, we know not.—The next chapter will inform us all about it.
PART SECOND
CHAPTER I
In consequence of various attempts to escape prison, and of the late daring enterprise at noon-day, the officers of this ignoble fleet of prison ships grew very uneasy.—They, doubtless, felt that there was neither honor nor pleasure, but much danger, in this sort of service. It was often said among them, that they felt perfectly safe when they had several thousand French prisoners under their charge. These lively people passed their time in little ingenious manufactures, and in gaming; and seemed to wait patiently until their day of liberation should come; but these Americans, said they, are the most restless, contriving set of men we ever saw; their amusement seems to be contriving how to escape, and to plague their keepers. They seem to take a pleasure in making us uneasy, and in exciting our apprehensions of their escape; and then they laugh and make themselves merry at our anxiety. One of the officers said, that the American prisoners "had systematized the art of tormenting." There is a sort of mischievous humor among our fellows, that is, at times, rather provoking, to officers habituated to prompt obedience, and to a distance, and deference bordering upon awe, which our countrymen never feel for any man.
It seems that the British government, or the admiralty department, were fully acquainted with this state of things, and with the difficult task which the miserable officers of this miserable Medway-fleet had to perform. The government did not seem to wish to exercise a greater degree of rigor over the American prisoners; because they knew, and all Europe knew, that the United States treated their prisoners with distinguished humanity; and yet they firmly believed that unless more rigor was exercised, the Americans would rise upon their keepers before the winter commenced.
The rumor is, that we are to be sent to Dartmoor prison. Some of our crew have lately received a letter from a prisoner in that depot of misery, for such he describes it. He tells us that it is situated in the most dreary and uncultivated spot in England; and that to the sterility of the soil are added the black coloring of superstition.
A Moor, a word not used in America, is used in England to denote a low, marshy piece of ground, or an elevated sterile spot, like our pine-barren's, divested of every thing like a pine tree. It denotes something between a beach and a meadow. It is a solemn-faced-truth in this country of our superstitious ancestors, that every extensive and dreary moor, in England, is haunted by troubled ghosts, witches, and walking dead men, visiting, in a sociable way, each other's graves. It is really surprising, to an intelligent American, and incredible, that stout, hearty, and otherwise bold Englishmen, dare not walk alone over the dreary spot, or moor, where the prison now stands, in a dark and cloudy night, without trembling with horror, at a nothing! The minds of Scotchmen, of all ranks, are more or less beclouded with this sort of superstition. They still believe in ghosts, witches, and a second sight! Free as we are from this superstition, we have rather more of it than the French. The English and American theatres still relish Macbeth and Hamlet. Beside the stories of witches flying about in the air, and dead men strolling over the moor, the letter contained an account of the origin of this new famous prison. It stated that this Dartmoor belonged to that beautiful gambler, the Dutchess of Devonshire;9 who lost it in a game of hazard with the Prince of Wales; who, to enhance the value of it, (he being, as all the world knows, a very contriving, speculating, economical, close fisted, miserly genius) contrived to have erected there a species of a fortress, enclosing seven very large buildings, or prisons, for the reception of captured seamen; from which establishment its royal landlord received a very handsome annual rent; and this princely anecdote is as firmly believed as the stories of the witches, and the walking dead men. The only remark we would make upon it here, is, that Dartmoor has a dismal idea associated with it—and that was sufficient to make our people conceive of it as a place doleful as a coal-pit.
Not long after the receipt of this letter, one hundred and fifty of our countrymen were sent off, by water, to this Dartmoor Prison; but the measles appearing among them, they were stopped at the Nore, which is at the entrance of the Thames. They are every day drafting more, which are destined for the dismal prison house. We are all struck with horror at the idea of our removal from our ships in the river Medway, which runs through a beautiful country. It is "the untried scene," that fills us with dread, "for clouds and darkness rest upon it." Last year we were transported from inhospitable Nova Scotia, over the boisterous Atlantic; and suffered incredible hardships in a rough winter passage; and now we are to be launched again on the same tumultuous ocean, to go four hundred miles coast-wise, to the most dismal spot in England. Who will believe it? the men who exercised all their art and contrivance, and exerted all their muscular powers to cut through the double plankings and copper of a ship of the line, in hopes of escaping from her, now leave the same ship with regret! I have read of men who had been imprisoned, many years, in the Bastile, who, when liberated, sighed to return to their place of long confinement, and felt unhappy out of it! I thought it wondrous strange; but I now cease to be surprised. This prison ship, through long habit, and the dread of a worse place, is actually viewed with feelings of attachment. Of the hundred men who were sent hither last year, from Halifax, there are only about seventy of us remaining on board the Crown Prince. The next draft will lessen our numbers; and separate some of those who have been long associates in bondage. It is not merely the bodily inconvenience of being transported here and there, that we dread, so much as the exposure to insult, and sarcasm of our unfeeling enemies. We have been, and still dread to be again placed in rows, on board of a ship, or in a prison yard, to be stared at by the British vulgar, just as if we were Guinea negroes, exposed to the examination of some scoundrel negro merchants, commissioned to re-stock a plantation with black cattle, capable of thinking, talking, laughing and weeping. This is not all. We have been obliged often to endure speeches of this sort, most commonly uttered in the Scotch accent.—"My life on't that fellow is a renegado Englishman, or Irishman—an halter will be, I hope, his portion. D—n all such rebel-looking rascals." Whatever our feelings and resentments may be on account of impressment, inhuman treatment, and plundering our fobs and pockets, and of our clothing, we never speak of the British king and government in terms of gross indecency; whereas, we American prisoners of war, are often assailed with the bitterest sarcasms and curses of the President of the United States, the Congress, and some of our military commanders.
The British have been long in the habit of treating the Americans contemptuously. It began as long ago as 1757, when Lord Loudoun, General Abercromby, Admiral Holborne, Admiral Boscawen, Lord Colville, Sir Jeffry Amherst, and General Wolfe, came over here to cut the wings and tail of the wild descendants of Englishmen, in order to make of them a kind of sea poy soldiery. It is a curious fact, that some of the Scotch highlanders were at that time shot by our Yankee sentinels, because they did not know enough of the English language to give Jonathan the counter-sign! So long ago did mutual contempt begin between the natives of Old England and New.
I have already mentioned that all my family, as well as myself, were what they called "Federalists," or fault-finders, and opposers of Madison's administration; and that I, and all the rest of us, dropt every trait of federalism in the British prisons, where, to call a man a Federalist, was resented as the deepest insult. I appeal to all my companions in misery, for the accuracy of this opinion. A man who is willing to expose his life to the balls and bayonets of his country's foes, to the enemies of his government, and to the independence and union of his nation, holds his country and the government of his choice, in higher estimation than his life. Such a man cannot hear the United States and their President spoken of in terms of contempt, without feeling the keenest anguish. This I have felt; and have remarked its effects in the countenances of my insulted comrades. Situated as we are, it would be great imprudence to resent what we are often obliged to hear. Captivity, under British prison-keepers, and British captains of transport-men-of-war, are the proper colleges for teaching the love of our republican government, and attachment to its administration; and they are proper places to make the rankest federalist abjure his errors, and cling to the constituted authorities of the country whose flag he adores, and for whose defence he exposes his life. It is inconceivable how closely we are here pressed together in the cause of our dear country; and in honor of its high officers. Were all the inhabitants of the United States as unanimous in their political sentiments, as we are, in the river Medway, they would all be ready to exclaim, each man to his neighbour,
Rouse, and revive your ancient glory,
Unite—and drive the world before you.
July 1st, 1813.—Our feelings are all alive at this joyous season, for we are now making preparations for celebrating the birth-day of our nation; and though in captivity, we are determined not to suffer the glorious Fourth of July to pass over without testifying our undivided attachment to our beloved country, and to the cause it is fighting for.—Each mess are making arrangements in, besure, a small and humble, but a hearty way, for the celebration; and it is a curious spectacle to see the pleasureable anticipations of the prisoners, in a feast of good things, all of which would not amount to so plentiful a repast, as that which the criminals in our State Prison, near Boston, enjoy almost every day, the plenty of good porter excepted. Application has been made to Capt. Hutchinson, for an additional allowance of beer and porter, which request he has granted, with his usual goodness. Every brain is at work to know how to spend what we have been accumulating for the Fourth of July, with the most pleasure, and the most propriety.
The Fourth of July, 1813, is past. We petitioned the commander to allow us to hoist the American flag, but he refused to gratify us. Application was then made to the Commodore, who gave permission that we might hoist our national colors, as high as the top of our railings; and the same permission was granted to all the other prison ships. We had obtained a drum and fife; and being all assembled on the forecastle, and such other parts of the ship as were accessible to us, prisoners, we in the morning struck up the animating tune of Yankee Doodle; and saluted the Nassau prison ship with three cheers, which was returned; the ships more distant caught the joyful sound, and echoed it back to its source. The fife and drum, the latter ornamented with the king's arms, played the whole forenoon, while the jovial prisoners drank, in English porter, Success to the American cause!
At twelve o'clock, an Oration, hastily prepared, and rather too inflammatory for about a tenth part of our audience, was delivered, by a prisoner of respectable talents; a man, who, having been impressed into the British service, had been promoted to the rank of boatswain of a frigate; and liberated from the service in consequence of his declaring it against his honor and conscience to fight against his countrymen, or aid in pulling down the colors of his nation. This man, very deliberately, mounted an elevation, and with great force, and with a characteristical freedom, pronounced an Address, which the prisoners listened to with profound silence, excepting the clapping of hands, and sometimes cheers, at the end of such sentences as warmed and overpowered their silence. At the close of the whole, the orator was greeted with three times, three cheers, throughout the ship, which reached even to the shores. The oratory of the boatswain seemed to electrify the officers and men set over us. The master and the surgeon appeared really pleased; even Osmer, our jailor, "grinn'd horribly a ghastly smile."
After the Oration, we returned below to our prepared dinners, at which our reverend orator asked a blessing, with more fervor than is commonly observed in our Cossack clergymen; and we fell to, with a zest and hilarity rarely to be found among a large collection of prisoners. If, like the captive Jews on the Euphrates, we had hung our harps upon the willows of the Medway, we took them down on this joyous occasion. We felt the spirit of freedom glow within us; and we anticipated the day when we should celebrate our anniversary in that dear land of liberty, which we longed to see, and panted after, as the thirsty hart pants after the water brooks.
The Fourth of July was celebrated in a very becoming manner on board the Nassau prison ship, by similar acts of rejoicing. I have obtained a copy of the Oration, delivered by a seaman, on that day. Among the audience, were several ladies and gentlemen from the neighbourhood.