THE British agent for prisoners of war, at Dartmoor, and commander of the depot, was Thomas George Shortland, a captain in the royal navy.

I acknowledge, that in common with all the prisoners, I looked on Capt. Shortland, after the massacre, as an incarnate fiend; I thought, if there was one villain on the earth, prominent over all others in malice and cruelty, that one was Thomas George Shortland. It was with such feelings that all, or nearly all the prisoners returned to the United States, and with such feelings the account of the committee of the prisoners, which will follow in the next chapter, was drawn up and published. But now, when so much time has passed away, and that time has in some little measure matured my judgment and blunted my feelings of resentment; when, in my intercourse with the world around me, I have found no one perfectly good, and none bad without mitigation, but have perceived that amid an almost infinite diversity of characters, some shade-spot resting on the otherwise unalloyed brightness of some, and some, however faint, gleams of goodness lighting up the darkness of others; I have doubted, in reference to Capt. Shortland, and have inquired of myself, was the fault always and entirely on one side? And I now think not. My intercourse with this person was limited to the general intercourse he had with the prisoners, except in one interview, and that after the 6th of April; and though I met him with captious and irritated feelings, which I took no pains to conceal from himthough I should have hesitated little, had I possessed the power, to rid the earth of one whom I considered to be a monster of cruelty-yet he displayed so much urbanity, which even my rude

ness did not provoke-expressed so much regret for the late disastrous occurrence, that I left him with the impression, that to the most diabolical malignity, he added the most consummate hypocrisy.

The first complaint against Capt. Shortland, with us who came from the West Indies, began with our arrival at the depot. We were enervated by a residence in a tropical country-we were suffering from the privations and confinement endured on board the Sybille, and we were weary and jaded with our long and harassing march to the depot; and we exclaimed with one voice against the gratuitous cruelty, as we thought it to be, of putting us into a cold stone prison, with nothing to rest upon but the damp stone floor. But we afterwards learned, that the baggage carts had not come up in season, and that it was necessary to put us by ourselves, as we had come up without any descriptive list.

It was usual to confine men for some offences in the cachot, which is a small house detached from the prisons, with only one hole to let the light in. This cachot, or black-hole, as it was called, was situated near the yard which contained prisons Nos. 1, 2 and 3. I never could look at it without horror, for it was understood among the prisoners that the sufferings of those confined there were of the most terrible character. It was reported that they were allowed no food but bread, with some water to drink; that they were denied the use of a light, and had nothing to rest upon but a little straw. Gloomygloomy indeed must have been the solitary reflections of the wretched inmates of this black-hole, within sound of the voices of their former shipmates, and yet denied all intercourse with them—

shut out from the light of the sun, kept in ignorance of all the news from home which the rest of us were frequently obtaining, and some of them given to understand that this wretched fate was to have no termination but with the termination of the war! And for what were these poor fellows made the victims of such atrocious cruelty? Cruelty which ought to stamp with indelible infamy the admiralty board who ordered it, rather than the more humble agents of its execution. It was simply for obeying an instinct of our common natures-attempting to escape. They had violated no law; they had broken no parole; they had not forfeited their plighted words; and while the British authorities employed, without scruple and without censure, its officers who had forfeited their paroles of honor and escaped from France, they took this cruelly atrocious method of wreaking their vengeance on those who, being unparoled, are always held by the usages of war among all civilized nations to be justified in escaping if they can. I will do the turnkeys the justice to say, that they were apparently kind-hearted men, and treated us as well as they were able to do. They had their duty to perform, and they performed it as kindly as they could. The one attached to No. 7 prison, who I knew only by the name of Sam, was rather a favorite with

us.

He was a slow-moulded, thickheaded, short-legged, bluff, John Bull sort of a fellow, and bore with imperturbable gravity and good-nature the rough jokes of the prisoners. I was one day very much amused by the manner of a Frenchman, who had been captured a few days before in a privateer under American colors, but which sailed from Cherburg, the crew being principally Frenchmen. Johnny Crapeau had seen the Yankees poking fun at Sam, and how well Sam endured it, and he thought he must play his part in the drama. So going up to him, he put his arms a-kimbo, looked him in the face, and shrugging up his shoulders, he began: "Jean Bull, Jean Bull, rote beef, rote beef, beef-teak, pomme de terre-God tam." This was too much for Sammy-he could take a joke from a Yankee, because, as he said, they were "cousins loik;" but he could not endure it in a frog-eating Frenchman. "Now, now, dang it," said Sam,

"this is too much ;"-and he up fist and knocked Johnoy down very coolly; and all the Yankees set up a shout of approbation, and he slunk off like a whipped spaniel.

The embargos, as we termed them, or stoppages of the market, preventing the market-people from visiting the market-yard with their commodities adapted to the wants and the tastes of the prisoners, were one of the modes adopted to punish the whole community for the faults or follies of a few. It was a great privation to the prisoners to have the market stopped for any length of time, and these embargos formed the most frequent cause of complaint against Captain Shortland prior to the massacre. He was aware of the reluctance of the prisoners to have him exercise this power, and it was therefore his usual mode of punishing us. A man with more policy or equanimity of temper would have perceived how odious it made him in our eyes-how much it lessened the possibility of his governing with ease to himself, and would have been very cautious how he exercised the power.

The counting out was sometimes repeated once or twice in the course of the day. Whether the intention was to worry and annoy us, I do not know, but it certainly had that effect. One very rainy day in the latter part of October, when the weather was such as to strike a chill upon any one who ventured outside, being what turnkey Sam used to denominate as a sour day, we were turned out in the morning and counted. The prisoners submitted to it very quietly, if not cheerfully, for we were then new to the prison and its ways. At 11 o'clock the same morning the word was passed through our prison-"All hands, ahoy! turn out! turn out!" We were again counted out as we had been an hour or two before. This would occupy from a half to three quarters of an hour in the process, for there were always more or less laggards who would skulk back, and who were obliged to be forced out at the point of the bayonet.After we were all in the yard, in about fifteen minutes Capt. Shortland, Dr. McGrath, Mr. Mitchell the clerk, and the commanding military officer, passed down the yard and went into the prisons, and remained about half an hour,

for what purpose I never knew, although I inquired of every one who I thought might possibly know, but all were as much in the dark on the subject as I was. The weather, which had been drizzly when we first went out, (I messing on the first floor, not far from the door, was among the first) had begun to pour down copious torrents of rain before the ceremony was completed; so that when the word was given to "turn in," we were completely drenched to the skin. It was now about the dinner hour, and over our mess of soup maigre" we wondered what could be the reason of this second turn out. We had but just cleared away the remnants of our dinner, cleaned our tin pots and kids, and cleaned up our mess-place, and were enjoying the flavor of our well-burned pipes and hap'orth of tobacco, when, at 2 o'clock, we heard the crier's sharp whistle resounding through the aisles, and anon his hoarse, rough voice-"All hands, ahoy! turn out again."

On the occasion of the signature of the treaty of Ghent, the American colors were displayed on all the prisons. A white flag was hoisted on No. 3, bearing the motto of "Free Trade and Sailor's Rights," under a salute of 18 guns.

Capt. Shortland took offence at this, and sent word in that he would permit no flag to be hoisted but the national colors, and the motto flag was hauled down.

The guns were fabricated for the occasion. They were rather squibs, or as the boys call them, "crackers," of a large size, made with paper, many folds of which were wound closely together in the form of a tube, which was filled with gunpowder, and the explosion of them passed off well enough as a salute. Capt. Shortland was very unwisely sensitive as to the motto flag. The prohibition of it was very highly resented by the prisoners; and as it could do no injury to have this or any other flag displayed on the top of this moor, where there was not a soul to see it except the prisoners and those connected with the depot, save now and then a solitary passenger over this barren and bleak expanse, it was bad policy in Capt. S. to exasperate them for so small a matter. It was a large number of these petty causes of irritation on both sides, which produced that

highly excited state of angry feelings which led to the catastrophe of the 6th of April.

One morning Capt. Shortland ordered the gates of communication between the several yards to be shut, and he threatened to keep them shut and the market stopped, until the prisoners should deliver to him a man who had escaped from the cachot. The prisoners became exasperated, and resolved that such prisoners as had been employed by Capt. S. in lighting the lamps, in driving the carts, or in any other employment about the prisons, should be stopped, until his restrictive measures should be discontinued. Accordingly, when the lamp-lighters came in to light the lamps they were stopped, and their ladders put out in the marketsquare and delivered to the turnkeys. The carters, likewise, were stopped, and their carts put out.

At 3 P. M. a detachment of about forty soldiers came into our yard to turn in the prisoners, and to lock the doors. At that time there were about fifty prisoners in the yard, but the alarm quickly spreading, they rushed out of the prisons tumultuously into the yard. The commanding officer finding it impossible to execute his orders with so small a force, sent for a reinforcement, which came to his aid, consisting of 150 soldiers with fixed bayonets.

The soldiers were displayed in a semi-circular manner, and the officer gave the order to load with ball, which was done in our sight. Mr. Mitchell, the head clerk of the depot, and Assistant Surgeon McFarland, accompanied the troops. The commander gave orders to charge bayonets and advance; they obeyed, and penned us up in the semi-circle; we, however, made a rush and broke through the ranks, pushing the bayonets away, and gained the rear of the soldiers, who immediately faced to the right about, when we again broke their ranks. The soldiers then retired to another position. Capt. Shortland, Dr. McGrath, the Major of the regiment, and a number of military officers, then appeared on the walls, between the market-square and the prisons. Capt. S. addressed the prisoners, and demanded the delivery of the man who had escaped from the cachot, or otherwise he would give orders to

fire upon us. It was answered on behalf of the prisoners, that we would not act as constables or informers for him, and of course would not deliver the man, nor inform where he was, but that he might send in his turnkeys or other officers, to search for him, and they would not be molested in the search. Capt. S. then said, "I wished to turn you in, because it is time to light the lamps, and I was fearful you would assault the men whom I should send in, and prevent them from doing it." We told him that we had no such intention, we only meant to prevent our own men from doing it; but if you at tempt to lock us up at this unseasonable hour, we will make all the resistance we can. Capt. S. then withdrew, and soon after the soldiers marched out of the yard. Soon after, the master slater, carpenter and blacksmith, with their journeymen, came in to light the lamps. Shortly after, at night, while the prisoners were being turned in, a man was bayoneted in four places, by a soldier of the Somerset militia. He was a very civil and inoffensive man, and was quietly going into No. 7 prison, where he resided.

The Somerset militia had that day come up to the depot, but they had been on guard there once before. The guard duty was performed, while I was there, by the 12th and 78th regular regiments and by the Derby and Somerset militia. We were on very friendly terms with the soldiers of the regular regiments, and we had no difficulty with the Derby militia. But the case was other wise with those of Somerset. These men, for they cannot with any propriety be called soldiers, were uncivil and boorish, and were continually quarreling with the prisoners, who were by no means slow in returning their incivilities.

Complaint was made to Capt. Shortland of the conduct of the soldier. He accordingly sent the crier round to give notice that the soldier should be punished, and that for the future, a horn should be sounded as a signal for the prisoners to turn in, and that the soldiers should not be permitted to come within the yards to be drove in as heretofore. This arrangement was very satisfactory to us, and I never knew au instance after its adoption, when the prisoners did not go very quietly and peaceably

in when the horn was sounded, except on the 4th of April, the occurrences of which day I shall hereafter relate. But while the practice prevailed of sending the soldiers into the yard to drive us in at the bayonet's point, there was much dodging and skulking to avoid them, not from any unwillingness to go in, but solely to perplex and bother the soldiers, as we felt it to be an indignity to have a bayonet poked against us, and to be driven in like cattle into a pen.

The occurrences of the 4th of April have always appeared to me to have an intimate and important connexion with the massacre of the 6th.

On the morning of the 4th, the committee to receive the provisions received biscuits instead of soft bread, which was our usual allowance. The prisoners refused to take them, conceiving themselves entitled to soft bread, and they were sent back. At 5 P. M. the prisoners, grown desperate by hunger, and by their long confinement since the peace, broke open the gates and rushed into the market square, and evinced a disposition to break open the storehouses where the provisions are usually kept. The bells rang, the drums beat to arms, and the soldiers paraded in front of the prisoners, and threatened to fire on them. The prisoners did not disperse, and many cried out, "Fire away, fire away, we may as well die this way as with hunger." The Major assured them that if they would retire they should have the bread; but they knowing that he had no authority over the provisions, would not retire. Upon Mr. Mitchell, the head clerk's (Captain Shortland being absent) assurance that they should not be locked up until soft bread was issued to them, they retired. The bread arrived about 9 o'clock, and was issued out, and it was nearly midnight before all the prisoners were locked up.

The regulations for victualing the prisoners, an abstract from which was posted up for our information, specified that we should have 1 pounds of good soft bread, but that in case of any emergency, when soft bread could not be procured, one pound of hard bread or biscuits should be issued instead. In this case there was no pretence of any emergency, such as was contemplated in the regulations; and the facility and dispatch with which the soft bread was

at last procured, proves that there was none. We understood and believed at the time, and it is the only probable solution of the transaction, that to be provided for any such emergency, that is, a failure of a supply of flour at any particular time, the contractor had baked up a quantity of biscuits, which he wanted to get off his hands at this time. This was the reason why we refused to take the hard bread, and not from any objection to its quality. Had we been told that there was no flour in the depot to make the bread with, we should probably have been satisfied with the reason assigned, and contented ourselves with the biscuits. If force had been resorted to on this day, to reduce the prisoners to obedience, I think the British government could have shown a much more plausible pretext for its necessity than they have ever been able to do for the employment of it on the 6th. The prisoners, on the 4th, had forced the gates and gained the marketsquare, and repeatedly threatened to break open the storehouses. Many insults and annoyances were offered to the soldiers and officers of the depot; and the darkness of the night afforded facilities for escape, which many embraced. Capt. Shortland was on that day absent from the depot, having gone to Plymouth. Had he been at home,

in all probability the tragedy of the 6th would have been anticipated. He arrived at the depot the next day, and we understood that he was highly indignant at the conduct of the prisoners, and at the compliance of his officers with their demands. The evening of the 4th was a very pleasant one; it was the first time since my residence at the depot that 1 had seen the moon or a star. I wandered about the yard, enjoying the mild radiance of the moon, and gazing upwards with a child's fondness on each well-known star. I was reminded forcibly of my own far-off home, where I had often gazed upon these same stars; and having this day received intelligence that several cartels were fitting out in the Thames to take us home, I looked forward with a confidence which I had never before felt at Dartmoor, of again revisiting my own native land.

The contractor's plan of putting the Dartmoor boys to bed supperless did not work so well as the expedient of a neighbor of mine, with a large family of boys, who, having himself "an unco' strong grip on the gear," gives his boys a cent to go to bed without supper, and in the morning says, "Come, boys, let's put in a cent all round and buy a warm loaf, and we'll have a good breakfast."

I can say but little from my own knowledge of the affair of the 6th April; for I saw but little of that part of it which goes to fix the kind and degree of blame which in truth attaches to the conduct of Capt. Shortland in that affair. And I think it is exceedingly difficult for any one to estimate properly his motives, and the precise conduct which the occasion called for on his part. He may have been actuated by resentment, or he may, while regretting the supposed necessity, have done nothing more than what he conceived to be his duty under the circumstances. That there was an appearance of an attempt to escape, by a general rush, every prisoner must allow; that

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there was no such intention every prisoner knows, and we took it for granted at the time, that Capt. Shortland knew it likewise. But could he have known it? There was not the least occasion to use force, because most of the prisoners were ignorant of the cause of the disturbance, and had it been explained to them, they would have retired, and condemned the conduct of those who were the promoters of it. But the whole thing was done so suddenly-after the alarm-bell rang the prisoners rushed out of the prison so rapidly, to see what was the matter, (the marketsquare was the centre of attraction,) and those behind pressing those on who were before them;-the giving way of