I NEVER knew what became of the four Hamiltons that
were picked up by the Julia's boat, though I suppose they
were put in some other vessel along with their shipmates;
nor did I ever learn the particulars of the loss of this schooner,
beyond the fact that her topsail-sheets were stoppered, and
her halyards racked. This much I learned from the men
who were brought on board the Julia, who said that their
craft was ready, in all respects, for action. Some seamen
have thought this wrong, and some right; but, in my
opinion, it made but little difference in such a gust as that
which passed over us. What was remarkable, the Julia,
which could not have been far from the Scourge when we
went over, felt no great matter of wind, just luffing up, and
shaking her sails, to be rid of it!

We lay only one night off the mouth of the Niagara.
The next morning the squadron weighed, and stood out in
pursuit of the English. The weather was very variable,
and we could not get within reach of Sir James all that
day. This was the 9th of August. The Scourge had gone
down on the night of the 7th, or the morning of the 8th, I
never knew which. On the morning of the 10th, however,
we were under the north shore, and to windward of John
Bull. The Commodore now took the Asp, and the Madison
the Fair American, in tow, and we all kept away, expecting
certainly a general action. But the wind shifted, bringing
the English to windward. The afternoon was calm; or
had variable airs. Towards sunset, the enemy was becalmed
under the American shore, and we got a breeze
from the southward. We now closed, and at 6 formed our
line for engaging. We continued to close until 7, when

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

the wind came out fresh at S. W., putting John again to
windward.

I can hardly tell what followed, there was so much manoeuvring
and shifting of berths. Both squadrons were
standing across the lake, the enemy being to windward, and
a little astern of us. We now passed within hail of the
commodore, who gave us orders to form a new line of battle,
which we did in the following manner. One line, composed
of the smallest schooners, was formed to windward,
while the ships, brig, and two heaviest schooners, formed
another line to leeward. We had the weathermost line,
having the Growler, Lieutenant Deacon, for the vessel next
astern of us. This much I could see, though I did not understand
the object. I now learn the plan was for the
weather line to engage the enemy, and then, by edging
away, draw them down upon the lee line, which line contained
our principal force. According to the orders, we
ought to have rather edged off, as soon as the English
began to fire, in order to draw them down upon the commodore;
but it will be seen that our schooner pursued a very
different course.

It must have been near midnight, when the enemy began
to fire at the Fair American, the sternmost vessel of our
weather line. We were a long bit ahead of her, and did
not engage for some time. The firing became pretty smart
astern, but we stood on, without engaging, the enemy not
yet being far enough ahead for us. After a while, the four
sternmost schooners of our line kept off, according to orders,
but the Julia and Growler still stood on. I suppose the
English kept off, too, at the same time, as the commodore
had expected. At any rate, we found ourselves so well up
with the enemy, that, instead of bearing up, Mr. Trant
tacked in the Julia, and the Growler came round after us.
We now began to fire on the headmost ships of the enemy,
which were coming on towards us. We were able to lay
past the enemy on this tack, and fairly got to windward of
them. When we were a little on John Bull's weather bow,
we brailed the foresail, and gave him several rounds, within
a pretty fair distance. The enemy answered us, and, from
that moment, he seemed to give up all thoughts of the

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

vessels to leeward of him, turning his whole attention on the
Julia and Growler.

The English fleet stood on the same tack, until it had got
between us and our own line, when it went about in chase
of us. We now began to make short tacks to windward;
the enemy separating so as to spread a wide clew, in order
that they might prevent our getting past, by turning their
line and running to leeward. As for keeping to windward,
we had no difficulty—occasionally brailing our foresail, and
even edging off, now and then, to be certain that our shot
would tell. In moderate weather, the Julia was the fastest
vessel in the American squadron, the Lady of the Lake
excepted; and the Growler was far from being dull. Had
there been room, I make no doubt we might have kept clear
of John Bull, with the greatest ease; touching him up with
our long, heavy guns, from time to time, as it suited us. I
have often thought that Mr. Trant forgot we were between
the enemy and the land, and that he fancied himself out at
sea. It was a hazy, moonlight morning, and we did not see
anything of the main, though it turned out to be nearer to
us than we wished.

All hands were now turning to windward; the two
schooners still edging off, occasionally, and firing. The
enemy's shot went far beyond us, and did us some mischief,
though nothing that was not immediately repaired. The
main throat-halyards, on board the Julia, were shot away,
as was the clew of the mainsail. It is probable the enemy
did not keep his luff, towards the last, on account of the land.

Our two schooners kept quite near each other, sometimes
one being to windward, sometimes the other. It happened
that the Growler was a short distance to windward of us,
when we first became aware of the nature of our critical
situation. She up helm, and, running down within hail,
Lieutenant Deacon informed Mr. Trant he had just sounded
in two fathoms, and that he could see lights ashore. He
thought there must be Indians, in great numbers, in this
vicinity, and that we must, at all events, avoid the land.
“What do you think we had best do?” asked Lieutenant
Deacon. “Run the gauntlet,” called out Mr. Trant. “Very
well, sir: which shall lead?” “I'll lead the van,” answered
Mr. Trant, and then all was settled.

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

We now up helm, and steered for a vacancy among the
British vessels. The enemy seemed to expect us, for they
formed in two lines, leaving us room to enter between them.
When we bore up, even in these critical circumstances, it
was under our mainsail, fore-top-sail, jib, flying-jib, and foresail.
So insufficient were the equipments of these small
craft, that we had neither square-sail nor studding-sails on
board us. I never saw a studding-sail in any of the schooners,
the Scourge excepted.

The Julia and Growler now ran down, the former leading,
half a cable's-length apart. When we entered between
the two lines of the enemy, we were within short canisterrange,
and got it smartly on both tacks. The two English
ships were to leeward, each leading a line; and we had a
brig, and three large, regular man-of-war schooners, to get
past, with the certainty of meeting the Wolfe and Royal
George, should we succeed in clearing these four craft. Both
of us kept up a heavy fire, swivelling our guns round, so as
not to neglect any one. As we drew near the ships, however,
we paid them the compliment of throwing all the heavy
shot at them, as was due to their rank and size.

For a few minutes we fared pretty well; but we were no
sooner well entered between the lines, than we got it, hot
and hard. Our rigging began to come down about our ears,
and one shot passed a few feet above our heads, cutting both
topsail-sheets, and scooping a bit of wood as big as a thirty-two
pound shot, out of the foremast. I went up on one side,
myself, to knot one of these sheets, and, while aloft, discovered
the injury that had been done to the spar. Soon after,
the tack of the mainsail caught fire, from a wad of one of
the Englishmen; for, by this time, we were close at it. I
think, indeed, that the nearness of the enemy alone prevented
our decks from being entirely swept. The grape and
canister were passing just above our heads like hail, and the
foresail was literally in ribands. The halyards being gone,
the mainsail came down by the run, and the jib settled as
low as it could. The topsail-yard was on the cap, and the
schooner now came up into the wind.

All this time, we kept working the guns. The old man
went from one gun to the other, pointing each himself, as it
was ready. He was at the eighteen when things were

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

getting near the worst, and, as he left her, he called out to her
crew to “fill her—fill her to the muzzle!” He then came
to our gun, which was already loaded with one round, a
stand of grape, and a case of canister shot. This I know,
for I put them all in with my own hands. At this time, the
Melville, a brig of the enemy's, was close up with us, firing
upon our decks from her fore-top. She was coming up on
our larboard quarter, while a large schooner was nearing us
fast on the starboard. Mr. Trant directed our gun to be
elevated so as to sweep the brig's forecastle, and then he
called out, “Now's the time, lads—fire at the b—s! fire
away at 'em!” But no match was to be found! Some one
had thrown both overboard. By this time the brig's jib-boom
was over our quarter, and the English were actually
coming on board of us. The enemy were now all round us.
The Wolfe, herself, was within hail, and still firing. The
last I saw of any of our people, was Mallet passing forward,
and I sat down on the slide of the thirty-two, myself, sullen
as a bear. Two or three of the English passed me, without
saying anything. Even at this instant, a volley of bullets
came out of the brig's fore-top, and struck all around me;
some hitting the deck, and others the gun itself. Just then,
an English officer came up, and said—“What are you doing
here, you Yankee?” I felt exceedingly savage, and answered,
“Looking at your fools firing upon their own men.”
“Take that for your sauce,” he said, giving me a thrust
with his sword, as he spoke. The point of the cutlass just
passed my hip-bone, and gave me a smart flesh-wound. The
hurt was not dangerous, though it bled freely, and was some
weeks in healing. I now rose to go below, and heard a hail
from one of the ships—the Wolfe, as I took her to be.
“Have you struck?” demanded some one. The officer who
had hurt me now called out, “Don't fire into us, sir, for I'm
on board, and have got possession.” The officer from the
ship next asked, “Is there anybody alive on board her?”
To which the prize-officer answered, “I don't know, sir;
I've seen but one man, as yet.”

I now went down below. First, I got a bandage on my
wound, to stop the bleeding, and then I had an opportunity
to look about me. A party of English was below, and
some of our men having joined them, the heads were knock

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

ed out of two barrels of whiskey. The kids and bread-bags
were procured, and all hands, without distinction of country,
sat down to enjoy themselves. Some even began to sing,
and, as for good-fellowship, it was just as marked, as it
would have been in a jollification ashore.

In a few minutes the officer who had hurt me jumped
down among us. The instant he saw what we were at, he
sang out—“Halloo! here's high life below stairs!” Then
he called to another officer to bear a hand down and see the
fun. Some one sung out from among ourselves to “dowse
the glim.” The lights were put out, and then the two officers
capsized the whiskey. While this was doing, most of
the Englishmen ran up the forward hatch. We Julias all
remained below.

In less than an hour we were sent on board the enemy's
vessels. I was carried to the Royal George, but Mr. Trant
was taken on board the Wolfe. The Growler had lost her
bowsprit, and was otherwise damaged, and had been forced
to strike also. She had a man killed, and I believe one or
two wounded.[8] On board of us, not a man, besides myself,
had been touched! We seemed to have been preserved by
a miracle, for every one of the enemy had a slap at us, and,
for some time, we were within pistol-shot. Then we had
no quarters at all, being perfectly exposed to grape and
canister. The enemy must have fired too high, for nothing
else could have saved us.

In July, while I still belonged to the Scourge, I had been
sent with a boat's crew, under Mr. Bogardus, on board an
English flag of truce that had come into the Harbour.
While in this vessel, our boat's crew were “hail-fellows-well-met”
with the Englishmen, and we had agreed among
us to take care of each other, should either side happen to
be taken. I had been on board the Royal George but a
short time, when two of these very men came up to me with
some grog and some grub; and next morning they brought

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

me my bitters. I saw no more of them, however, except
when they came to shake hands with us at the gang-way, as
we were leaving the ship.

After breakfast, next morning, we were all called aft to
the ward-room, one at a time. I was pumped as to the
force of the Americans, the names of the vessels, the numbers
of the crews, and the names of the commanders. I
answered a little saucily, and was ordered out of the ward-room.
As I was quitting the place, I was called back by
one of the lieutenants, whose appearance I did not like from
the first. Although it was now eight years since I left Halifax,
and we had both so much altered, I took this gentleman
for Mr. Bowen, the very midshipman of the Cleopatra, who
had been my schoolmate, and whom I had known on board
the prize-brig I have mentioned.

This officer asked me where I was born. I told him New
York. He said he knew better, and asked my name. I
told him it was what he found it on the muster-roll, and that
by which I had been called. He said I knew better, and
that I should hear more of this, hereafter. If this were my
old schoolfellow, he knew that I was always called Edward
Robert Meyers, whereas I had dropped the middle name,
and now called myself Myers. He may not, however, have
been the person I took him for, and might have mistaken
me for some one else; for I never had an opportunity of
ascertaining any more about him.

We got into Little York, and were sent ashore that evening.
I can say nothing of our squadron, having been kept
below the whole time I was on board the Royal George. I
could not find out whether we did the enemy any harm, or
not, the night we were taken; though I remember that a
sixty-eight pound carronade, that stood near the gang-way
of the Royal George, was dismounted, the night I passed
into her. It looked to me as if the trucks were gone. This
I know, that the ship was more than usually screened off;
though for what reason I will not pretend to say.

At York, we were put in the gaol, where we were kept three
weeks. Our treatment was every way bad, with the exception
that we were not crowded. As to food, we were kept
“six upon four” the whole time I was prisoner.[9] The bread

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

was bad, and the pork little better. While in this gaol, a
party of drunken Indians gave us a volley, in passing; but
luckily it did us no harm.

At the end of three weeks, we received a haversack
apiece, and two days' allowance. Our clothes were taken
from us, and the men were told they would get them below;
a thing that happened to very few of us, I believe. As for
myself, I was luckily without anything to lose; my effects
having gone down in the Scourge. All I had on earth was
a shirt and two handkerchiefs, and an old slouched hat, that
I had got in exchange for a Scotch cap that had been given
to me in the Julia. I was without shoes, and so continued
until I reached Halifax. All this gave me little concern;
my spirits being elastic, and my disposition gay. My great
trouble was the apprehension of being known, through the
recollections of the officer I have mentioned.

We now commenced our march for Kingston, under the
guard of a company of the Glengarians and a party of
Indians. The last kept on our flanks, and it was understood
they would shoot and scalp any man who left the ranks.
We marched two and two, being something like eighty prisoners.
It was hard work for the first day or two, the road
being nothing but an Indian trail, and our lodging-places
the open air. My feet became very sore, and, as for food,
we had to eat our pork raw, there being nothing to cook in.
The soldiers fared no better than ourselves, however, with
the exception of being on full allowance. It seems that our
provisions were sent by water, and left for us at particular
places; for every eight-and-forty hours we touched the lake
shore, and found them ready for us. They were left on the
beach without any guard, or any one near them. In this
way we picked up our supplies the whole distance.

At the dépôt, Mr. Bogardus and the pilot found a boat,
and managed to get into her, and put out into the lake.
After being absent a day and night, they were driven in by
rough weather, and fell into the hands of a party of dragoons
who were escorting Sir George Prevost along the lake

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

shore. We found them at a sort of tavern, where were the
English Governor and his escort at the time. They were
sent back among us, with two American army officers, who
had fallen into the hands of the Indians, and had been most
foully treated. One of these officers was wounded in the
arm.

The night of the day we fell in with Sir George Prevost,
we passed through a hamlet, and slept just without it. As
we entered the village the guard played Yankee Doodle,
winding up with the Rogue's March. As we went through
the place, I got leave to go to a house and ask for a drink
of milk. The woman of this house said they had been expecting
us for two days, and that they had been saving their
milk expressly to give us. I got as much as I wanted, and
a small loaf of bread in the bargain, as did several others
with me. These people seemed to me to be all well affected
to the Americans, and much disposed to treat us kindly.
We slept on a barn floor that night.

We were much provoked at the insult of playing the
Rogue's March. Jack Reilly and I laid a plan to have our
revenge, should it be repeated. Two or three days later
we had the same tune, at another village, and I caught up
a couple of large stones, ran ahead, and dashed them through
both ends of the drum, before the boy, who was beating it,
knew what I was about. Jack snatched the fife out of the
other boy's hand, and it was passed from one to another
among us, until it reached one who threw it over the railing
of a bridge. After this, we had no more music, good or
bad. Not a word was said to any of us about this affair,
and I really think the officers were ashamed of themselves.

After a march of several days we came to a hamlet, not
a great distance from Kingston. I saw a good many geese
about, and took a fancy to have one for supper. I told Mallet
if he would cook a goose, I would tip one over. The
matter was arranged between us, and picking up a club I
made a dash at a flock, and knocked a bird over. I caught
up the goose and ran, when my fellow-prisoners called out
to me to dodge, which I did, behind a stump, not knowing
from what quarter the danger might come. It was well I
did, for two Indians fired at me, one hitting the stump, and
the other ball passing just over my head. A militia officer

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

now gallopped up, and drove back the Indians who were
running up to me, to look after the scalp, I suppose. This
officer remonstrated with me, but spoke mildly and even
kindly. I told him I was hungry, and that I wanted a warm
mess. “But you are committing a robbery,” he said. “If
I am, I 'm robbing an enemy.” “You do not know but it
may be a friend,” was his significant answer. “Well, if I
am, he'll not grudge me the goose,” says I. On hearing
this, the officer laughed, and asked me how I meant to cook
the goose. I told him that one of my messmates had promised
to do this for me. He then bade me carry the goose
into the ranks, and to come to him when we halted at night.
I did this, and he gave us a pan, some potatoes, onions, &c.,
out of which we made the only good mess we got on our
march. I may say this was the last hearty and really palatable
meal I made until I reached Halifax, a period of several
weeks.

While Jack Mallet was cooking the goose, I went in behind
a pile of boards, attended by a soldier to watch me,
and, while there, I saw an ivory rule lying on the boards,
with fifteen pence alongside of it. These I pinned, as a
lawful prize, being in an enemy's country. The money
served to buy us some bread. The rule was bartered for
half a gallon of rum. This made us a merry night, taking
all things together.

We made no halt at Kingston, though the Indians left us.
We now marched through a settled country, with some
militia for our guards. Our treatment was much better than
it had been, the people of the country treating us kindly.
When we were abreast of the Thousand Islands, Mr. Bogardus
and the pilot made another attempt to escape, and
got fairly off. These were the only two who did succeed.
How they effected it I cannot say, but I know they escaped.
I never saw either afterwards.

At the Long Sault, we were all put in boats, with a Canadian
pilot in each end. The militia staid behind, and
down we went; they say at the rate of nine miles in fifteen
minutes. We found a new guard at the foot of the rapids.
This was done, beyond a doubt, to save us and themselves,
though we thought hard of it at the time, for it appeared to
us, as if they thrust us into a danger they did not like to

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

run themselves. I have since heard that even ladies travelling,
used to go down these formidable rapids in the same
way; and that, with skilful pilots, there is little or no danger.

When we reached Montreal we were confined in a gaol,
where we remained three weeks. There was an American
lady confined in this building, though she had more liberty
than we, and from her we received much aid. She sent us
soap, and she gave me bandages &c., for my hurt. Occasionally
she gave us little things to eat. I never knew her
name, but heard she had two sons in the American army,
and that she had been detected in corresponding with them.

We remained at Montreal two or three weeks, and then
were sent down to Quebec, where we were put on board of
prison-ships. I was sent to the Lord Cathcart, and most
of the Julia's men with me. Our provisions were very bad,
and the mortality among us was great. The bread was
intolerably bad. Mr. Trant came to see us, privately, and
he brought some salt with him, which was a great relief to
us. Jack Mallet asked him whether some of us might not
go to work on board a transport, that lay just astern of us,
in order to get something better to eat. Mr. Trant said yes,
and eight of us went on board this craft, every day, getting
provisions and grog for our pay. At sunset, we returned
regularly to the Cathcart. I got a second shirt and a pair
of trowsers in this way.

About a fortnight after this arrangement, the Surprise,
32, and a sloop-of-war, came in, anchoring some distance
below the town. These ships sent their boats up to the
prison-ships to examine them for men. After going through
those vessels, they came on board the transport, and finding
us fresh, clean, fed and tolerably clad, they pronounced us
all Englishmen, and carried us on board the frigate. We
were not permitted even to go and take leave of our shipmates.
Of the eight men thus taken, five were native
Americans, one was from Mozambique, one I suppose to
have been an English subject born, but long settled in
America; and, as for me, the reader knows as much of my
origin as I know myself.

We were asked if we would go to duty on board the Surprise,
and we all refused. We were then put in close

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

confinement, on the berth-deck, under the charge of a sentry.
In a day or two, the ship sailed; and off Cape Breton we
met with a heavy gale, in which the people suffered severely
with snow and cold. The ship was kept off the land, with
great difficulty. After all, we prisoners saved the ship,
though I think it likely the injury originally came from
some of us. The breechings of two of the guns had been
cut, and the guns broke adrift in the height of the gale. All
the crew were on deck, and the sentinel permitting it, we
went up and smothered the guns with hammocks. We
were now allowed to go about deck, but this lasted a short
time, the whole of us being sent below, again, as soon as
the gale abated.

On reaching Halifax, we were all put on board of the
Regulus transport, bound to Bermuda. Here we eight were
thrown into irons, under the accusation of being British
subjects. At the end of twenty-four hours, however, the
captain came to us, and offered to let us out of irons, and
to give us ship's treatment, if we would help in working the
vessel to Bermuda. I have since thought we were ironed
merely to extort this arrangement from us. We consulted
together; and, thinking a chance might offer to get possession
of the Regulus, which had only a few Canadians in
her, and was to be convoyed by the Pictou schooner, we
consented. We were now turned up to duty, and I got the
first pair of shoes that had been on my feet since the Scourge
sunk from under me.

The reader will imagine I had not been in the harbour
of Halifax, without a strong desire to ascertain something
about those I had left behind me, in that town. I was nervously
afraid of being discovered, and yet had a feverish
wish to go ashore. The manner in which I gratified this
wish, and the consequences to which it led, will be seen in
the sequel.

eaf072.n8

[8] It is supposed that Capt. Deacon died, a few years since, in consequence
of an injury he received on board the Growler, this night.
A shot struck her main-boom, within a short distance of one of his
ears, and he ever after complained of its effects. At his death this
side of his head was much swollen and affected.—Editor.

CHAPTER VIII.

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

Jack Mallet had long known my history. He was
my confidant, and entered into all my feelings. The night
we went to duty on board the transport, a boat was lying
alongside of the ship, and the weather being thick, it afforded
a good opportunity for gratifying my longing. Jack and
myself got in, after putting our heads together, and stole off
undetected. I pulled directly up to the wharf of Mr. Marchinton,
and at once found myself at home. I will not pretend
to describe my sensations, but they were a strange
mixture of apprehension, disquiet, hope, and natural attachment.
I wished much to see my sister, but was afraid to
venture on that.

There was a family, however, of the name of Fraser, that
lived near the shore, with which I had been well acquainted,
and in whose members I had great confidence. They were
respectable in position, its head being called a judge, and
they were all intimate with the Marchintons. To the Frasers,
then, I went; Jack keeping me company. I was
afraid, if I knocked, the servant would not let me in, appearing,
as I did, in the dress of a common sailor; so I
opened the street-door without any ceremony, and went
directly to that of the parlour, which I entered before there
was time to stop me. Jack brought up in the entry.

Mrs. Fraser and her daughter were seated together, on a
settee, and the judge was reading at a table. My sudden
apparition astonished them, and all three gazed at me in
silence. Mr. Fraser then said, “In the name of heaven,
where did you come from, Edward!” I told him I had
been in the American service, but that I now belonged to an
English transport that was to sail in the morning, and that
I had just come ashore to inquire how all hands did; particularly
my sister. He told me that my sister was living,
a married woman, in Halifax; that Mr. Marchinton was
dead, and had grieved very much at my disappearance;
that I was supposed to be dead. He then gave me much
advice as to my future course, and reminded me how much
I had lost by my early mistakes. He was particularly

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

anxious I should quit my adopted country, and wished me
to remain in Halifax. He offered to send a servant with
me to find my sister, but I was afraid to let my presence be
known to so many. I begged my visit might be kept a
secret, as I felt ashamed of being seen in so humble circumstances.
I was well treated, as was Jack Mallet, both of
us receiving wine and cake, &c. Mr. Fraser also gave me
a guinea, and as I went away, Mrs. Fraser slipped a pound
note into my hand. The latter said to me, in a whisper—
“I know what you are afraid of, but I shall tell Harriet of
your visit; she will be secret.”

I staid about an hour, receiving every mark of kindness
from these excellent and respectable people, leaving them to
believe we were to sail in the morning. When we got
back to the transport no one knew of our absence, and nothing
was ever said of our taking the boat. The Regulus
did not sail for twenty hours after this, but I had no more
communication with the shore. We got to sea, at last, two
transports, under the convoy of the Pictou.

During the whole passage, we eight prisoners kept a sharp
look-out for a chance to get possession of the ship. We
were closely watched, there being a lieutenant and his boat's
crew on board, besides the Canadians, the master, mate, &c.
All the arms were secreted, and nothing was left at hand,
that we could use in a rising.

About mid passage, it blowing fresh, with the ship under
double-reefed topsails, I was at the weather, with one of the
Canadians at the lee, wheel. Mallet was at work in the larboard,
or weather, mizen chains, ready to lend me a hand.
At this moment the Pictou came up under our lee, to speak
us in relation to carrying a light during the night. Her
masts swung so she could not carry one herself, and her
commander wished us to carry our top-light, he keeping near
it, instead of our keeping near him. The schooner came
very close to us, it blowing heavily, and Mallet called out,
“Ned, now is your time. Up helm and into him. A couple
of seas will send him down.” This was said loud enough
to be heard, though all on deck were attending to the
schooner; and, as for the Canadian, he did not understand
English. I managed to get the helm hard up, and Mallet
jumped inboard. The ship fell off fast; but the lieutenant,

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

who was on board as an agent, was standing in the companion-way
with his wife, and, the instant he saw what I had
done, he ran aft, struck me a sharp blow, and put the helm
hard down with his own hands. This saved the Pictou,
though there was a great outcry on board her. The lieutenant's
wife screamed, and there was a pretty uproar for a
minute, in every direction. As the Regulus luffed-to, her
jib-boom-end just cleared the Pictou's forward rigging, and
a man might almost have jumped from the ship to the
schooner, as we got alongside of each other. Another minute,
and we should have travelled over His Majesty's
schooner, like a rail-road car going over a squash.

The lieutenant now denounced us, and we prisoners were
all put in irons. I am merely relating facts. How far we
were right, I leave others to decide; but it must be remembered
that Jack had, in that day, a mortal enmity to a British
man-of-war, which was a little too apt to lay hands on all
that she fell in with, on the high seas. Perhaps severe moralists
might say that we had entered into a bargain with the
captain of the Regulus, not to make war on him during the
passage; in answer to which, we can reply that we were
not attacking him, but the Pictou. Our intention, it must
be confessed, however, was to seize the Regulus in the confusion.
Had we been better treated as prisoners, our tempers
might not have been so savage. But we got no good
treatment, except for our own work; and, being hedged in
in this manner, common sailors reason very much as they
feel. We were not permitted to go at large again, in the
Regulus, in which the English were very right, as Jack
Mallet, in particular, was a man to put his shipmates up to
almost any enterprise.

The anchor was hardly down, at Bermuda, before a signal
was made to the Goliah, razée, for a boat, and we were sent
on board that ship. This was a cruising vessel, and she
went to sea next morning. We were distributed about the
ship, and ordered to go to work. The intention, evidently,
was to swallow us all in the enormous maw of the British
navy. We refused to do duty, however, to a man; most
of our fellows being pretty bold, as native Americans. We
were a fortnight in this situation, the greater part of the time
playing green, with our tin pots slung round our necks. We

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

did so much of this, that the people began to laugh at us, as
real Johnny Raws, though the old salts knew better. The
last even helped us along, some giving us clothes, extra grog,
and otherwise being very kind to us. The officers treated
us pretty well, too, all things considered. None of us got
flogged, nor were we even threatened with the gangway.
At length the plan was changed. The boatswain was asked
if he got anything out of us, and, making a bad report, we
were sent down to the lower gun-deck, under a sentry's
charge, and put at “six upon four,” again. Here we remained
until the ship went into Bermuda, after a six weeks' cruise.
This vessel, an old seventy-four cut down, did not answer,
for she was soon after sent to England. I overheard her
officers, from our berth near the bulkhead, wishing to fall in
with the President, Commodore Rodgers—a vessel they fancied
they could easily handle. I cannot say they could not,
but one day an elderly man among them spoke very rationally
on the subject, saying, they might, or they might not,
get the best of it in such a fight. For his part, he did not
wish to see any such craft, with the miserable crew they had
in the Goliah.

We found the Ramilies, Sir Thomas Hardy, lying in
Bermuda roads. This ship sent a boat, which took us
on board the Ardent, 64, which was then used as a prison-ship.
About a week before we reached this vessel an
American midshipman got hold of a boat, and effected his
escape, actually making the passage between Bermuda and
Cape Henry all alone, by himself.[10] In consequence of this
unusual occurrence, a bright look out was kept on all the
boats, thus defeating one of our plans, which was to get off
in the same way. When we reached the Ardent, we found
but four Americans in her. After we had been on board
her about a week, three men joined us, who had given
themselves up on board English men-of-war, as native
Americans. One of these men, whose name was Baily,
had been fourteen years in the English service, into which
he had been pressed, his protection having been torn up before
his face. He was a Connecticut man, and had given

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

himself up at the commencement of the war, getting three
dozen for his pains. He was then sent on the Halifax station,
where he gave himself up again. He received three
dozen more, then had his shirt thrown over his back and
was sent to us. I saw the back and the shirt, myself, and
Baily said he would keep the last to be buried with him.
Bradbury and Patrick were served very much in the same
manner. I saw all their backs, and give the remainder of
the story, as they gave it to me. Baily and Bradbury got
off in season to join the Constitution, and to make the last
cruise in her during this war. I afterwards fell in with
Bradbury, who mentioned this circumstance to me.

It is good to have these things known, for I do believe the
English nation would be averse to men's receiving such
treatment, could they fairly be made to understand it. It
surely is bad enough to be compelled to fight the battles of
a foreign country, without being flogged for not fighting
them when they happen to be against one's own people. For
myself, I was born, of German parents, in the English territory,
it is true; but America was, and ever has been, the
country of my choice, and, while yet a child, I may say, I
decided for myself to sail under the American flag; and, if
my father had a right to make an Englishman of me, by
taking service under the English crown, I think I had a
right to make myself what I pleased, when he had left me
to get on as I could, without his counsel and advice.

After being about three weeks in the Ardent, we eight
prisoners were sent on board the Ramilies, to be tried as
Englishmen who had been fighting against their king. The
trial took place on board the Asia, 74, a flag-ship; but we
lived in the Ramilies, during the time the investigation was
going on. Sir Thomas Hardy held several conversations
with me, on the quarter-deck, in which he manifested great
kindness of feeling. He inquired whether I was really an
American; but I evaded any direct answer. I told him,
however, that I had been an apprentice, in New York, in
the employment of Jacob Barker; which was true, in one
sense, as Mr. Barker was the consignee of the Sterling, and
knew of my indentures. I mentioned him, as a person
more likely to be known than Captain Johnston. Sir Thomas
said he had some knowledge of Mr. Barker; and, I

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

think, I have heard that they were, in some way, connected.
This was laying an anchor to-windward, as it turned out, in
the end.

We were all on board the Asia, for trial, or investigation,
two days, before I was sent for into the cabin. I was very
much frightened; and scarce knew what I said, or did. It is
a cruel thing to leave sailors without counsel, on such occasions;
though the officers behaved very kindly and considerately
to me; and, I believe, to all of us. There were
several officers seated round a table; and all were in swabs.
They said, the gentleman who presided, was a Sir Borlase
Warren, the admiral on the station.[11] This gentleman,
whoever he was, probably saw that I was frightened. He
slewed himself round, in his chair, and said to me; “My
man, you need not be alarmed; we know who you are, and
what you are; but your apprenticeship will be of great service
to you.” This was not said, however, until Sir Thomas
Hardy had got out the story of my being an apprentice in
Jacob Barker's employ, again, before them all, in the cabin.
I was told to send for a copy of my indentures, by one of
the white-washed Swedes, that sailed between Bermuda and
New York. This I did, that very day. I was in the cabin
of the Asia, half an hour, perhaps; and I felt greatly relieved,
when I got out of it. It was decided, in my presence, to
send me back among the prisoners, on board the Ardent.
The same decision was made, as to the whole eight of us,
that had come on in the Regulus.

When we got back to the Ramilies, Sir Thomas Hardy
had some more conversation with me. I have thought, ever
since, that he knew something about my birth, and of my
being the prince's godson. He wished me to join the British
service, seemingly, very much, and encouraged me with the
hope of being promoted. But, it is due to myself, to say, I
held out against it all. I do not believe America had a
truer heart, in her service, than mine; and I do not think an
English commission would have bought me. I have nothing

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

to hope, from saying this, for I am now old, and a cripple;
but, as I have sat down to relate the truth, let the truth be
told, whether it tell for, or against me.

We were now sent back to the Ardent; where we remained
three weeks, or a month, longer. During this time
we got our papers from New York; I receiving a copy of
my indentures, together with the sum of ten dollars; which
reached me through Sir Thomas Hardy, as I understood.
Nothing more was ever said, to any of the eight, about their
being Englishmen; the whole of us being treated as prisoners
of war. Prisoners arrived fast, until we had four hundred
in the Ardent. The old Ruby, a forty-four, on two decks,
was obliged to receive some of them. Most of these prisoners
were privateersmen; though there were a few soldiers, and
some citizens that had been picked up in Chesapeake Bay.
Before we left Bermuda, the crew of a French frigate was
put into the Ardent, to the number of near four hundred
men. In the whole, we must have had eight hundred souls,
and all on one deck. This was close stowage, and I was
heartily glad when I quitted the ship.

Soon after the French arrived, four hundred of us Americans
were put on board transports, and we sailed for Halifax,
under the convoy of the Ramilies. A day or two after
we got out, we fell in with an American privateer, which
continued hovering around us for several days. As this
was a bold fellow, frequently coming within gun-shot, and
sporting his sticks and canvass in all sorts of ways, Sir
Thomas Hardy felt afraid he would get one of the four
transports, and he took all us prisoners into the Ramilies.
We staid in the ship the rest of the passage, and when we
went into Halifax it was all alone, the four transports having
disappeared. Two of them subsequently got in; but I
think the other two were actually taken by that saucy
fellow.

The prisoners, at first, had great liberty allowed them, on
board the Ramilies. On all occasions, Sir Thomas Hardy
treated the Americans well. A party of marines was stationed
on the poop, and another on the forecastle, and the
ship's people had arms; but this was all the precaution that
was used. The opportunity tempted some of our men to
plan a rising, with a view to seize the ship. Privateer

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

officers were at the head of this scheme, which was communicated
to me, among others, soon after the plot was laid.
Most of the prisoners knew of the intention, and everybody
seemed to enter into the affair with hearty good-will. Our
design was to rise at the end of the second dog-watch, overcome
the crew, and carry the ship upon our own coast. If
unable to pass the blockading squadrons, we intended to run
her ashore. The people of the Ramilies outnumbered us by
near one-half, and they had arms, it is true; but we trusted
to the effect of a surprise, and something to the disposition
of most English sailors to get quit of their own service.
Had the attempt been made, from what I saw of the crew,
I think our main trouble would have been with the officers
and the marines. We were prevented from trying the experiment,
however, in consequence of having been betrayed
by some one who was in the secret, the whole of us being
suddenly sent into the cable tiers and amongst the water
casks, under the vigilant care of sentinels posted in the
wings. After that, we were allowed to come on deck singly,
only, and then under a sentinel's charge. When Sir
Thomas spoke to us concerning this change of treatment,
he did not abuse us for our plan, but was mild and reasonable,
while he reminded us of the necessity of what he was
doing. I have no idea he would have been in the least
injured, had we got possession of the ship; for, to the last,
our people praised him, and the treatment they received,
while under his orders.

Before we were sent below, Sir Thomas spoke to me
again, on the subject of my joining the English service. He
was quite earnest about it, and reasoned with me like a
father; but I was determined not to yield. I did not like
England, and I did like America. My birth in Quebec was
a thing I could not help; but having chosen to serve under
the American flag, and having done so now for years, I did
not choose to go over to the enemy.

At Halifax, fifteen or twenty of us were sent on board the
old Centurion, 44, Lord Anson's ship, as retaliation-men.
We eight were of the number. We found something like
thirty more in the ship, all retaliation-men, like ourselves.
Those we found in the Centurion did not appear to me to
be foremast Jacks, but struck me as being citizens from

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

ashore. We were well treated, however, suffering no other
confinement than that of the ship. We were on “six upon
four,” it is true, like other prisoners, but our own country
gave us small stores, and extra bread and beef. In the way
of grub, we fared like sailor kings. At the end of three
weeks, we eight lakesmen were sent to Melville Island,
among the great herd of prisoners. I cannot explain the
reason of all these changes; but I know that when the gate
was shut on us, the turnkey said we had gone into a home
that would last as long as the war lasted.

Melville is an island of more than a mile in circumference,
with low, rocky shores. It lies about three miles from the
town of Halifax, but not in sight. It is connected with the
main by a bridge that is thrown across a narrow passage
of something like a quarter of a mile in width. In the centre
of the island is an eminence, which was occupied by the
garrison, and had some artillery. This eminence commanded
the whole island. Another post on the main, also,
commanded the prisoners' barracks. These barracks were
ordinary wooden buildings, enclosed on the side of the island
with a strong stone wall, and on the side of the post on the
main, by high, open palisades. Of course, a sufficient guard
was maintained.

It was said there were about twelve hundred Americans
on the island, when I passed the gate. Among them were
a few French, some of whom were a part of the crew of the
Ville de Milan, the ship that had been taken before I first
left Halifax; or more than eight years previously to this time.
This did, indeed, look like the place's being a home to a
poor fellow, and I did not relish the circumstance at all.
Among our people were soldiers, sailors, and 'long-shoremen.
There was no difference in the treatment, which, for
a prison, was good. We got only “six upon four” from the
English, of course; but our own country made up the difference
here, as on board the Centurion. They had a prison
dress, with one leg of the trowsers yellow and the other blue,
&c.; but we would not stand that. Our agent managed the
matter so that we got regular jackets and trowsers of the
true old colour. The poor Frenchmen looked like peacocks
in their dress, but we did not envy them their finery.

I had been on the island about a fortnight, when I was

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

told by Jack Mallet that a woman, whom he thought to be
my sister, was at the gate. Jack knew my whole history,
and came to his opinion from a resemblance that he saw
between me and the person who had inquired for me. I
refused to go to the gate, however, to see who it was, and
Jack was sent back to tell the woman that I had been left
behind at Bermuda. He was directed to throw in a few
hints about the expediency of her not coming back to look
for me, and that it would be better if she never named me.
All this was done, I getting a berth from which I could see
the female. I knew her in a moment, although she was
married, and had a son with her, and my heart was very
near giving way, especially when I saw her shedding
tears. She went away from the gate, however, going up
on the ramparts, from which she could look down into the
prison-yard. There she remained an hour, as if she wished
to satisfy her own eyes as to the truth of Jack's story; but I
took good care to keep out of her sight.

As I knew there was little hope of an exchange of prisoners,
I now began to think of the means of making my
escape. Jack Mallet dared not attempt to swim, on account
of the rheumatism and cramps, having narrowly escaped
drowning at Bermuda, and he could not join in our
schemes. As for myself, I have been able to swim ever
since danger taught me the important lesson, the night the
Scourge went down. Money would be necessary to aid me
in escaping, and Jack and I put our heads together, in order
to raise some. I had still the ten dollars given me by Sir
Thomas Hardy, and I commenced operations by purchasing
shares in a dice-board, a vingt et un table, and a quino
table.[12] Jack Mallet and I, also, set up a shop, on a capital
of three dollars. We sold smoked herring, pipes, tobacco,
segars, spruce beer, and, as chances of smuggling it in
offered, now and then a little Jamaica. All this time, the
number of the prisoners increased, until, in the end, we got
to have a full prison, when they began to send them to Eng
land. Only one of the Julias was sent away, however, all
the rest remaining at Melville Island, from some cause I
cannot explain.

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

I cannot say we made money very fast. On every shilling
won at dice, we received a penny; at vingt et un, the
commission was the same; as it was also at the other
games. New cards, however, brought a little higher rate.
All this was wrong I now know, but then it gave me very
little trouble. I hope I would not do the same thing over
again, even to make my escape from Melville Island, but
one never knows to what distress may drive him.

Some person among the American prisoners—a soldier it
was said — commenced counterfeiting Spanish dollars. I
am afraid most of us helped to circulate them. We thought
it no harm to cheat the people of the canteens, for we knew
they were doing all they could to cheat us. This was prison
morality, in war-time, and I say nothing in its favour;
though, for myself, I will own I felt more of the consciousness
of wrong-doing in holding the shares in the gambling
establishments, than in giving bad dollars for poor rum.
The counterfeiting business was destroyed by one of the
dollars happening to break, as some of the officers were
pitching them; when, on examination, it turned out that
most of the money in the prison was bad. It was said the
people of the canteens had about four hundred of the dollars,
when they came to overhaul their lockers. A good many
found their way into Halifax.

My trade lasted all winter—(that of 1813 — 14,) and by
March I had gained the sum of eighty French crowns.
Dollars I was afraid to hold on account of the base money.
The ice now began to give way, and a few of us, who had
been discussing the matter all winter, set about forming serious
plans to escape. My confederates were a man of the
name of Johnson, who had been taken in the Snapdragon
privateer, and an Irishman of the name of Littlefield. Barnet,
the Mozambique man, joined us also, making four in all.
It was quite early in the month, when we made the attempt.
Our windows were long, and had perpendicular bars of
wrought iron to secure them, but no cross-bars. There was
no glass; but outside shutters, that we could open at our
pleasure. Outside of the windows were sentinels, and there
were two rows of pickets between us and the shore.

I put my crowns in a belt around my waist. Another
belt, or skin, was filled with rum, for the double purpose

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

of buoying me in the water, and of comforting me when
ashore. At that day, I found rum one of the great blessings
of life; now I look upon it as one of the greatest evils. My
companions made similar provisions of money and rum,
though neither was as rich as myself. I left Mallet and
Leonard Lewis my heirs at law if I escaped, and my trustees
should I be caught. Lewis was a young man of better
origin than most in the prison, and I have always thought
some calamity drove him to the seas. He was in ill health,
and did not appear to be destined to a long life. He would
have joined us, heart and hand, but was not strong enough
to endure the fatigue which we well knew we must undergo,
before we could get clear.

The night selected for the attempt was so cold, dark, and
dismal, as to drive all the sentinels into their boxes. It
rained hard, in the bargain. About eight, or as soon as the
lights were out, we got the lanyards of our hammocks
around two of the window bars, and using a bit of fire-wood
for a heaver, we easily brought them together. This left
room for our bodies to pass out, without any difficulty. Jack
Mallet, and those we left behind, hove the bars straight
again, so that the keepers were at a loss to know how we
had got off. We met with no obstacle between the prison
and the water. The pickets we removed, having cut them
in the day-time. In a word, all four of us reached the shore
of the Island in two or three minutes after we had taken
leave of our messmates. The difficulty lay before us. We
entered into the water, at once, and began to swim. When
I was a few rods from the place of landing, which was quite
near the guard-house, on the main, Johnson began to sing
out that he was drowning. I told him to be quiet, but it was
of no use. The guard on the main heard him, and commenced
firing, and of course we swam all the harder.
Three of us were soon ashore, and, knowing the roads well,
I led them in a direction to avoid the soldiers. By running
into the woods, we got clear, though poor Johnson fell again
into the hands of the enemy. He deserved it for bawling as
he did; it being the duty of a man in such circumstances to
die with a shut mouth.

eaf072.n10

[10] The name of this young officer was King. He is now dead,
having been lost in the Lynx, Lt. Madison. — Editor.

CHAPTER IX.

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

The three who had escaped ran, for a quarter of a mile,
in the woods, when we brought up, and took a drink. Hearing
no more firing, or any further alarm, we now consulted
as to our future course. There were some mills at the head
of the bay, about four miles from the guard-house, and I led
the party thither. We reached the place towards morning, and
found a berth in them before any one was stirring. We hid
ourselves in an old granary; but no person appeared near
the place throughout the next day. We had put a little
bread and a few herrings in our hats, and on these we subsisted.
The rum cheered us up, and, if rum ever did good,
I think it was to us on that occasion. We slept soundly,
with one man on the look-out; a rule we observed the whole
time we were out. It stopped raining in the course of the
day, though the weather was bitter cold.

Next night we got under way, and walked in a direction
which led us within three miles of the town. In doing this,
we passed the Prince's Lodge, a place where I had often
been, and the sight of which reminded me of home, and of
my childish days. There was no use in regrets, however,
and we pushed ahead. The men saw my melancholy, and
they questioned me; but I evaded the answer, pretending
that nothing ailed me. There was a tavern about a league
from the town, kept by a man of the name of Grant, and
Littlefield ventured into it. He bought a small cheese and a
loaf of bread; getting off clear, though not unsuspected.
This helped us along famously, and we pushed on as fast as
we could. Before morning we came near a bridge, on which
there was a sentinel posted, with a guard-house near its end.
To avoid this danger, we turned the guard-house, striking
the river above the bridge. Here we met two Indians, and
fell into discourse with them. Our rum now served us a
better turn than ever, buying the Indians in a minute. We
told these chaps we were deserters from the Bulwark, 74,
and begged them to help us along. At first, they thought
we were Yankees, whom they evidently disliked, and that

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

right heartily; but the story of the desertion took, and made
them disposed to serve us.

These two Indians led us down to the bed of the river,
and actually carried us beneath the bridge, on the side of
the river next the guard, where we found a party of about
thirty of these red-skins, men, women and children. Here
we stayed no less than three days; faring extremely well,
having fish, bread, butter, and other common food. The
weather was very bad, and we did not like to turn out in it,
besides, thinking the search for us might be less keen after
a short delay. All this time, we were within a few rods of
the guard, hearing the sentinels cry “all's well,” from half-hour
to half-hour. We were free with our rum, and, as
much as we dared to be, with our money. These people
never betrayed us.

The third night we left the bridge, guided by a young
Indian. He led us about two miles up the river, passing
through the Maroon town in the night, after which he left
us. We wished him to keep on with us for some distance
further, but he refused. He quitted us near morning, and
we turned into a deserted log-house, on the banks of the
river, where we passed the day. The country was thinly
populated, and the houses we saw were poor and mean.
We must now have been about five-and-twenty miles from
Halifax.

Our object was to cross the neck of land between the
Atlantic and the Bay of Fundy, and to get to Annapolis
Royal, where we expected to be able to procure a boat, by
fair means if we could, by stealth if necessary, and cross
over to the American shore. We had still a long road before
us, and had some little difficulty to find the way. The
Indians, however, gave us directions that greatly assisted
us; and we travelled a long bit, and pretty fast all that
night. In the morning, the country had more the appearance
of being peopled and cultivated, and I suspected we
were getting into the vicinity of Horton, a place through
which it would be indispensable to pass. The weather became
bad again, and it was necessary to make a halt. Coming
near a log-house, we sent Littlefield ahead to make some
inquiries of a woman who appeared to be in it alone. On
his return, he reported well of the woman. He had told

[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]

her we were deserters from the Bulwark, and had promised
to pay her if she would let us stay about her premises that
day, and get us something to eat. The woman had consented
to our occupying an out-house, and had agreed to
buy the provisions. We now took possession of the out-house,
where the woman visited us, and getting some money,
she left us in quest of food. We were uneasy during her
absence, but she came back with some meat, eggs, bread,
and butter, at the end of an hour, and all seemed right. We
made two comfortable meals in this out-house, where we
remained until near evening. I had the look-out about noon,
and I saw a man hanging about the house, and took the
alarm. The man did not stay long, however, and I got a
nap as soon as he disappeared. About four we were all up,
and one of us taking a look, saw this same man, and two
others, go into the house. The woman had already told us
that a party of soldiers had gone ahead, in pursuit of three
Yankee runaways; that four had broken prison, but one
had been retaken, and the rest were still out. This left little
doubt that she knew who we were; and we thought it
best to steal away, at once, lest the men in the house should
be consulting with her, at that very moment, about selling
us for the reward, which we know was always four pounds
ahead. The out-house was near the river, and there was a
good deal of brush growing along the banks, and we succeeded
in getting away unseen.

We went down to the margin, under the bank, and pursued
our way along the stream. Before it was dark we
came in sight of the bridge, for which we had been travelling
ever since we left the other bridge, and were sorry to
see a sentry-box on it. We now halted for a council, and
came to a determination to wait until dark, and then advance.
This we did, getting under this bridge, as we had
done with the other. We had no Indians, however, to comfort
and feed us.

I had known a good deal of this part of the country when
a boy, from the circumstance that Mr. Marchinton had a
large farm, near a place called Cornwallis, on the Bay,
where I had even spent whole summers with the family.
This bridge I recollected well; and I remembered there was
a ford a little on one side of it, when the tide was out. The

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tides are tremendous in this part of the world, and we did
not dare to steal a boat here, lest we should be caught in one
of the bores, as they are called, when the tide came in. It
was now half ebb, and we resolved to wait, and try the
ford.

It was quite dark when we left the bridge, and we had a
delicate bit of work before us. The naked flats were very
wide, and we sallied out, with the bridge as our guide. I
was up to my middle in mud, at times, but the water was
not very deep. We must have been near an hour in the
mud, for we were not exactly on the proper ford, of course,
and made bad navigation of it in the dark. But we were
afraid to lose sight of the bridge, lest we should get all adrift.

At length we reached the firm ground, covered with mud
and chilled with cold. We found the road, and the village
of Horton, and skirted the last, until all was clear. Then
we took to the road, and carried sail hard all night. Whenever
we saw any one, we hid ourselves, but we met few
while travelling. Next morning we walked until we came
to a deserted saw-mill, which I also remembered, and here
we halted for the day. No one troubled us, nor did I see
any one; but Littlefield said that a man drove a herd of
cattle past, during his watch on deck.

I told my companions that night, if they would be busy,
we might reach Cornwallis, where I should be at home. We
were pretty well fagged, and wanted rest, for Jack is no
great traveller ashore; and I promised the lads a good snug
berth at Mr. Marchinton's farm. We pushed ahead briskly,
in consequence, and I led the party up to the farm, just as
day was dawning. A Newfoundland dog, named Hunter,
met us with some ferocity; but, on my calling him by name,
he was pacified, and began to leap on me, and to caress me.
I have always thought that dog knew me, after an absence
of so many years. There was no time to waste with dogs,
however, and we took the way to the barn. We had wit
enough not to get on the hay, but to throw ourselves on a
mow filled with straw, as the first was probably in use.
Here we went to sleep, with one man on the look-out. This
was the warmest and most comfortable rest we had got since
quitting the island, from which we had now been absent
eight or nine days.

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

We remained one night and two days in this barn. The
workmen entered it often, and even stayed some time on the
barn-floor; but no one seemed to think of ascending our
mow. The dog kept much about the place, and I was greatly
afraid he would be the means of betraying us. Our provisions
were getting low, and, the night we were at the farm,
I sallied out, accompanied by Barnet, and we made our way
into the dairy. Here we found a pan of bread, milk, cheese,
butter, eggs, and codfish. Of course, we took our fill of
milk; but Barnet got hold of a vessel of sour cream, and
came near hallooing out, when he had taken a good pull at
it. As we returned to the barn, the geese set up an outcry,
and glad enough was I to find myself safe on the mow again,
without being discovered. Next day, however, we overheard
the men in the barn speaking of the robbery, and complaining,
in particular, of the uselessness of the dog. I did not
know any of these persons, although a young man appeared
among them, this day, who I fancied had been a playfellow
of mine, when a boy. I could not trust him, or any one
else there; and all the advantage we got from the farm, was
through my knowledge of the localities, and of the habits of
the place.

I had never been further on the road between Halifax and
Annapolis, than to Cornwallis. The rest of the distance
was unknown to me, though I was familiar with the route
which went out of Cornwallis, and which was called the Annapolis
road. It was a fine star-light evening, and we made
good headway. We all felt refreshed, and journeyed on full
stomachs. We did not meet a soul, though we travelled
through a well-settled country. The next morning we halted
in a wood, the weather being warm and pleasant. Here we
slept and rested as usual, and were off again at night. Littlefield
pinned three fowls as we went along, declaring that
he intended to have a warm mess next day, and he got off
without discovery. About four o'clock in the morning, we
fell in with a river, and left the highway, following the banks
of the stream for a short distance. It now came on to blow
and rain, with the wind on shore, and we saw it would not
do to get a boat and go out in such a time. There was a
rising ground, in a thick wood, near us, and we went up the
hill to pass the day. We had seen two men pulling ashore

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in a good-looking boat, and it was our determination to get
this boat, and shape our course down stream to the Bay, as
soon as it moderated. From the hill, we could overlook the
river, and the adjacent country. We saw the fishermen
land, take their sail and oars out of the boat, haul the latter
up, turn her over, and stow their sails and oars beneath her.
They had a breaker of fresh water, too, and everything
seemed fitted for our purposes. We liked the craft, and,
what is more, we liked the cruise.

We could not see the town of Annapolis, which turned
out to be up-stream from us, though we afterwards ascertained
that we were within a mile or two of it. The fishermen
walked in the direction of the town, and disappeared.
All we wanted now was tolerably good weather, with a fair
wind, or, at least, with less wind. The blow had driven in
the fishermen, and we thought it wise to be governed by
their experience. Nothing occurred in the course of the
day, the weather remaining the same, and we being exposed
to the rain, with no other cover than trees without leaves.
There were many pines, however, and they gave us a little
shelter.

At dusk, Littlefield lighted a fire, and began to cook his
fowls. The supper was soon ready, and we eat it with a
good relish. We then went to sleep, leaving Barnet on the
look-out. I had just got into a good sleep, when I was
awoke by the tramp of horses, and the shouting of men.
On springing up, I found that a party of five horsemen were
upon us. One called out—“Here they are—we 've found
them at last.” This left no doubt of their errand, and we
were all retaken. Our arms were tied, and we were made
to mount behind the horsemen, when they rode off with us,
taking the road by which we had come. We went but a
few miles that night, when we halted.

We were taken the whole distance to Halifax, in this
manner, riding on great-coats, without stirrups, the horses
on a smart walk. We did not go by Cornwallis, which, it
seems, was not the nearest road; but we passed through
Horton, and crossed the bridge, beneath which we had
waded through the mud. At Horton we passed a night.
We were confined in a sort of a prison, that was covered
with mud. We did not like our berths; and, finding that

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

the logs, of which the building was made, were rotten, we
actually worked our way through them, and got fairly out.
Littlefield, who was as reckless an Irishman as ever lived,
swore he would set fire to the place; which he did, by returning
through the hole we had made, and getting up into
a loft, that was dry and combustible. But for this silly act,
we might have escaped; and, as it was, we did get off for
the rest of the night, being caught, next morning, nearly
down, again, by the bridge at Windsor.

This time, our treatment was a good deal worse, than at
first. A sharp look-out was kept, and they got us back to
Halifax, without any more adventures. We were pretty
well fagged; though we had to taper off with the black hole,
and bread and water, for the next ten days; the regular
punishment for such misdemeanors as ours. At the end of
the ten days, we were let out, and came together again.
Our return brought about a great deal of discussion; and,
not a little criticism, as to the prudence of our course. To
hear the chaps talk, one would think every man among
them could have got off, had he been in our situation; though
none of them did any better; several having got off the
island, in our absence, and been retaken, within the first
day or two. While I was in prison, however, I remember
but one man who got entirely clear. This was a privateers-man,
from Marblehead; who did get fairly off; though he
was back again, in six weeks, having been taken once more,
a few days out.

We adventurers were pretty savage, about our failure;
and, the moment we were out of the black hole, we began
to lay our heads together for a new trial. My idea was, to
steer a different course, in the new attempt; making the best
of our way towards Liverpool, which lay to the southward,
coastwise. This would leave us on the Atlantic, it was
true; but our notion was, to ship in a small privateer, called
the Liverpool, and then run our chance of getting off from
her; as she was constantly crossing over to the American
coast. As this craft was quite small, and often had but few
hands in her, we did not know but we might get hold of the
schooner itself. Then there was some probability of being
put in a coaster; which we might run away with. At all
events, any chance seemed better to us, than that of

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remaining in prison, until the end of a war that might last years,
or until we got to be grey-headed. I remembered, when the
Ville de Milan was brought into Halifax; this was a year, or
two, before I went to sea; and yet here were some of her
people still, on Melville Island!

I renewed my trade as soon as out of the Black Hole,
but did not give up the idea of escaping. Leonard Lewis
and Jack Mallet were the only men we let into the secret.
They both declined joining us; Mallet on account of his
dread of the water, and Lewis, because certain he could not
outlive the fatigue; but they wished us good luck, and aided
us all they could. With Johnson we would have no further
concern.

The keepers did not ascertain the means by which we had
left the barracks, though they had seen the cut pickets of
course. We did not attempt, therefore, to cut through again,
but resolved to climb. The English had strengthened the
pickets with cross-pieces, which were a great assistance to
us, and I now desire to express my thanks for the same.
We waited for a warm, but dark and rainy night in May,
before we commenced our new movement. We had still
plenty of money, I having brought back with me to prison
forty crowns, and having driven a thriving trade in the interval.
We got out through the bars, precisely as we had
done before, and at the very same window. This was a
small job. After climbing the pickets, either Littlefield or
Barnet dropped on the outside, a little too carelessly, and
was overheard. The sentinel immediately called for the
corporal of the guard, but we were in the water, swimming
quite near the bridge, and some little distance from the guard-house
on the main. There was a stir on the island, while
we were in the water, but we all got ashore, safe and unseen.

We took to the same woods as before, but turned south instead
of west. Our route brought us along by the waterside,
and we travelled hard all that night. Littlefield pretended
to be our guide, but we got lost, and remained two
days and nights in the woods, without food, and completely
at fault as to which way to steer. At length we ventured
out into a high-way, by open day-light, and good luck threw
an old Irish seaman, who then lived by fishing, in our way.

[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

After a little conversation, we told this old man we were
deserters from a vessel of war, and he seemed to like us all
the better for it. He had served himself, and had a son
impressed, and seemed to like the English navy little better
than we did ourselves. He took us to a hut on the beach,
and fed us with fish, potatoes, and bread, giving us a very
comfortable and hearty meal. We remained in this hut
until sunset, receiving a great deal of useful advice from the
old man, and then we left him. We used some precaution
in travelling, sleeping in the woods; but we kept moving
by day as well as by night, and halting only when tired,
and a good place offered. We were not very well off for
food, though we brought a little from the fisherman's hut,
and found quantities of winter-berries by the way-side.

We entered Liverpool about eight at night, and went immediately
to the rendezvous of the privateer, giving a little
girl a shilling to be our guide. The keeper of the rendezvous
received us gladly, and we shipped immediately. Of
course we were lodged and fed, in waiting for the schooner
to come in. Each of us got four pounds bounty, and both
parties seemed delighted with the bargain. To own the
truth, we now began to drink, and the next day was pretty
much a blank with us all. The second day, after breakfast,
the landlord rushed into our room with a newspaper in his
hand, and broke out upon us, with a pretty string of names,
denouncing us for having told him we were deserters, when
we were only runaway Yankees! The twelve pounds troubled
him, and he demanded it back. We laughed at him,
and advised him to be quiet and put us aboard the privateer.
He then told us the guard was after us, hot-foot, and that it
was too late. This proved to be true enough, for, in less
than an hour an officer and a platoon of men had us in
custody. We had some fun in hearing the officer give it to
the landlord, who still kept talking about his twelve pounds.
The officer told him plainly that he was rightly served, for
attempting to smuggle off deserters, and I suppose this was
the reason no one endeavoured to get the money away from
us, except by words. We kept the twelve pounds, right or
wrong.

We were now put in a coaster, and sent to Halifax by
water. We were in irons, but otherwise were well enough

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treated. We were kept in the Navy-yard guard-house, at
Halifax, several hours, and were visited by a great many
officers. These gentlemen were curious to hear our story,
and we let them have it, very frankly. They laughed, and
said, generally, we were not to be blamed for trying to get
off, if their own look-outs were so bad as to let us. We did
not tell them, however, by what means we passed out of the
prison-barracks. Among the officers who came and spoke
to us, was an admiral, Sir Isaac Coffin. This gentleman
was a native American, and was then in Halifax to assist
the Nantucket men, whom he managed to get exchanged.
His own nephew was said to be among them; but him he
would not serve, as he had been captured in a privateer.
Had he been captured in a man-of-war, or a merchant-man,
he would have done all he could for him; but, as it was, he
let him go to Dartmoor—at least, this was the story in the
prison. The old gentleman spoke very mildly to us, and
said he could not blame us for attempting to escape. I do
not think he had ever heard of the twelve pounds; though
none of the navy officers were sorry that the privateer's-men
should be punished. As for us, we considered them
all enemies alike, on whom it was fair enough to live in a
time of war.

We were sent back to the island, and were quarantined
again; though it was for twenty days, this time. When we
got pratique, we learned that some one had told of the manner
in which we got out of prison, and cross-bars had been
placed in all the windows, making them so many “nine of
diamonds.” This was blocking the channel, and there was
no more chance for getting off in that way.

A grand conspiracy was now formed, which was worthy
of the men in prison. The plan was to get possession of
Halifax itself, and go off in triumph. We were eighteen
hundred prisoners in all; though not very well off for officers.
About fifty of us entered into the plan, at first; nor
did we let in any recruits for something like six weeks.
A Mr. Crowninshield, of Salem, was the head man among
us, he having been an officer in a privateer. There were a
good many privateer officers in the prison, but they were
berthed over-head, and were intended to be separated from
us at night. The floor was lifted between us, however, and

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we held our communications by these means. The officers
came down at night, and lent us a hand with the work.

The scheme was very simple, though I do not think it
was at all difficult of execution. The black-hole cells were
beneath the prison, and we broke through the floor, into one
of them, from our bay. A large mess-chest concealed the
process, in the day-time. We worked in gangs of six, digging
and passing up the dirt into the night-tubs. These
tubs we were permitted to empty, every morning, in a tide's
way, and thus we got rid of the dirt. At the end of two
months we had dug a passage, wide enough for two abreast,
some twenty or thirty yards, and were nearly ready to
come up to the surface. We now began to recruit, swearing
in each man. On tho whole, we had got about four
hundred names, when the project was defeated, by that
great enemy which destroys so many similar schemes,
treachery. We were betrayed, as was supposed by one of
our own number.

Had we got out, the plan was to seize the heights of the
island, and get possession of the guns. This effected, it
would have been easy to subdue the guard. We then
would have pushed for Citadel Hill, which commanded Halifax.
Had we succeeded there, we should have given John
Bull a great deal of trouble, though no one could say what
would have been the result. Hundreds would probably
have got off, in different craft, even had the great plan
failed. We were not permitted to try the experiment, however,
for one day we were all turned out, and a party of
English officers, army and navy, entered the barracks, removed
the mess-chest, and surveyed our mine at their
leisure. A draft of six hundred was sent from the prison
that day, and was shipped for Dartmoor; and, by the end
of the week, our whole number was reduced to some three
or four hundred souls. One of the Julias went in this draft,
but all the rest of us were kept at Halifax. For some reason
or other, the English seemed to keep their eyes on us.

I never gave up the hope of escaping, and the excitement
of the hope was beneficial to both body and mind. We
were too well watched, however, and conversation at
night was even forbidden. Most of the officers were gone,
and this threw me pretty much on my own resources. I

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have forgotten to say that Lemuel Bryant, the man who
fell at the breech of my gun, at Little York, and whom I
afterwards hauled into the Scourge's boat, got off, very early
after our arrival at Halifax. He made two that got quite
clear, instead of the one I have already mentioned. Bryant's
escape was so clever, as to deserve notice.

One day a party of some thirty soldiers was called out
for exchange, under a capitulation. Among the names was
that of Lemuel Bryant, but the man happened to be dead.
Our Bryant had found this out, beforehand, and he rigged
himself soldier-fashion, and answered to the name. It is
probable he ascertained the fact, by means of some relation
ship, which brought him in contact with the soldier previously
to his death. He met with no difficulty, and I have never
seen him since. I have heard he is still living, and that he
receives a pension for the hurt he received at York. Well
does he deserve it, for no man ever had a narrower chance
for his life.

Nothing new, worthy of notice, occurred for several
months, until one evening in March, 1815, we heard a
great rejoicing in Halifax; and, presently, a turnkey appeared
on the walls, and called out that England and America
had made peace! We gave three cheers, and passed
the night happy enough. We had a bit of a row with the
turnkeys about locking us in again, for we were fierce for
liberty; but we were forced to submit for another night.