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PAPERS OF AN OLD DARTMOOR PRISONER.

EDITED BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

CHAPTER XVI.

RELEASE, AND RETURN TO THE UNITED STATES.

THE night following the massacre, scarcely an inmate of Dartmoor turned into his hammock. We were going about from mess to mess, talking over the occurrences of the day; some lamenting the death of a dear friend; some relating their own hair-breadth escapes; some giving an account of the whole transaction with a wonderful minuteness, considering that they had been all the time snugly ensconced in some nook of the prison, where they were equally out of all sight of the movements and of harm's-way; but all vowing vengeance in the most deadly terms on the author of the catastrophe. Our men swore terribly in Dartmoor that night.

The doors were not opened at the usual hour the next morning; neither bread nor beef were distributed; the coffee-makers could not go out to prepare their coffee, the plumgudgeon man to fry his little cakes of potatoes and fish, nor the shop-keeper to obtain his morning supply of hot rolls; but we heeded not the calls of appetite, so intense and vehement were our feelings of indignation and revenge; at last, about 9 o'clock, the doors were opened, and our provisions distributed. In the course of the forenoon Captain Shortland was seen in the market-square, and the most horrid imprecations were discharged at him by very many of the prisoners. He consulted his own safety by retiring to his office, and he was never again seen within the walls of the de pot while I remained there. Shortly after the doors of the prison had been opened, the colonel of the regiment on guard appeared in front of the iron gate and addressed the prisoners; he deplored, with apparent sincerity, the melancholy occurrences of yesterday, stated that he was absent from the

VOL. XIX.-NO. XCIX.

depot at the time, or the affair would not have happened, and advised us to remain quiet, and there would be an investigation of Captain Shortland's conduct. In the course of the forenoon MajorGeneral Brown came up from Plymouth, and made inquiries of many of the prisoners in relation to the transaction. The general's manner was conciliatory, and he expressed much sorrow for the event. In the afternoon, Rear-Admiral Sir Josias Rowley, Captain Schomberg, R. N., and several other officers, arrived from Plymouth, deputed by the commanding naval officer on that station to inquire into the affair.

At about 2 o'clock, P. M., they appeared on the platforın, in front of the yards, and the crier went through the several prisons, notifying the prisoners to assemble near the gates of the market-square. Admiral Rowley, after a few remarks, expressing his condolence, &c., but which were made in a very cold and supercilious manner, inquired "if there was any cause of complaint among the prisoners, independent of the proceedings of last evening?" I give the very words of the admiral, as I recorded them not an hour after the interview, and the substance of the answers made to him. I was very near the spokesman of the prisoners, and heard every word of the conversation, and I am sure that I recorded it truly. In comparing this account with that given by the admiral himself, and which was promulgated among other documents at the time, it will be seen how basely he falsified the answers in his official report. In reply to this question of the admiral, it was answered on the part of the prisoners, that many petty vexations had occurred from time to time, which had all been redressed; 4

and that there now existed no cause of complaint among us, except the proceedings of last evening, and our protracted confinement since the two nations were no longer at war. Admiral Rowley observed, "an investigation will speedily take place, to ascertain the cause of the unfortunate event of yesterday; and I can assure you, that your confinement since the peace ought not to be attributed to the British government, as every thing has been done that was possible on their part to accelerate your departure." Our spokesman, in reply, stated to him that an impression generally prevailed with us, that Mr. Beasely had been grossly negligent respecting us, and that we attributed no blame to the British government for confinement since the peace. Captain Schomberg then took up the conversation and said, "that although he was not authorized to inquire respecting the event of yesterday, still he would ask, why was the hole made in the wall?" He was told, that a number were playing ball in the yard, and struck the ball over the wall, and repeatedly called to the sentry in the barrack-yard to heave it over, without effect. They then made the hole to get through and get the ball, and certainly not with any intention to escape; that the wall was very weak and insecure, and might at any time be easily demolished by the prisoners, with no other instruments than such as were at their command at all times; that the hole was no outlet from the depot, and that a single soldier might have easily destroyed any one who attempted to get through it. After a few more observations on their part, having no connexion whatever with the events of yesterday, they departed. This was the whole of the investigation made by Admiral Rowley; and I have preferred to give it to the reader in the very words I recorded it in my journal, that they may compare it with the official accounts of these gentlemen. On the 8th, a coroner's jury came up to the depot; where they were collected from, I know not; they summoned the officers of the garrison and of the depot, and examined them. I am not certain whether they examined any of the prisoners, but my impression is that they did not. They continued in session on the 9th and 10th, and late that day they rendered

a verdict, as we expected they would, of "justifiable homicide."

On the 11th, the Somerset militia, (the actors in the tragedy,) were removed from the depot, carrying with them the curses of the prisoners. My readers will understand, that the English militia presented a very different appearance from the same denomination of American soldiers. They were uniformed and disciplined the same as the regular soldiers, and were liable to be employed in any part of the kingdom and in Ireland; and I believe that in the latter part of the Continental War, they were sent to the Continent. Their place was supplied here by the 12th Regiment of Royal Infantry.

On the 14th, we received the gratifying intelligence, by a letter from Mr. Beasely, that he had engaged eight large cartels, some of which had sailed from Plymouth, and that he should engage enough in addition to carry us all to the United States. We were now all elated with the prospect of our speedy liberation, and all causes of vexation and animosity were for a time forgotten; even the massacre, which had at first so deeply affected us, was lost sight of, in the joyful prospect of release from a confinement which had become so insufferably tedious. fore we knew of the treaty of Ghent, and supposed that the war would be of long duration, and that there would be no exchange of prisoners, we conformed to our situation with tolerable composure; but when we were in expectation of a release, every hour seemed to be a day, and every day a year.

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At length on the 20th, the first draft, consisting of two hundred and forty men, left the depot. They were called out from the prison list, beginning at number one and continuing on. They were called out by the clerk, and on passing into the market-yard, they were made to deposite their hammock, blanket and other things belonging to the British government, and which they had received on their arrival at Dartmoor. On gaining the market-yard, they seemed more like a set of wild Indians than of civilized beings; they danced and shouted, and yelled and capered about like mad men. At last, having formed into something like a procession, they displayed a banner, which they had prepared for the occa

sion, and giving several rounds of hearty cheers, they left the depot; and on passing the captain's office they uttered most hearty imprecations on its tenant. On the 25th, 420 men went away, and on the following day, 350.

Our little mess-mate had been for some time very busy in corresponding with some persons in Liverpool and London. His every movement seemed charged with something of importance. He neglected the provision store-houses and the cook-house, and busied himself in overhauling the contents of his trunk; took out and aired two or three of the four dozen linen shirts of which he used to boast, being the whole number that I ever saw, although I often peered curiously into the trunk to see them; brushed up one of the many best coats, which existed either in reality or imagination; blacked up his best pair of shoes, and shaved off the redundancy of his beard, mustaches and whiskers, which had accumulated to an unseemly length by a seven months' residence in the depot. All these movements were mysterious; they were pregnant with an unusual import; they denoted something of importance; in short, they were, as our mess-mate, the mathematician said, "ominous." On the 24th, the mist which had enveloped his movements began to clear away, for in the morning the captain received a letter from Liverpool, covering a draft for ten pounds; and in the afternoon another from London, containing an order for his release. He cashed his draft with one of the clerks of the depot, and in the evening he gave a jollification to the mess and a few friends. It did not equal our Christmas supper in sumptuousness, nor did the captain on this occasion pay such fervent devotions to the beer-pot, as he did then; the certainty of his release on the morrow, seemed to have renewed his dignity, and in a measure overcome his crapulous propensity. I will here relate an anecdote of our Christmas supper, which 1 omitted in its place, and which, at the time, and for some time after, afforded us much amusement. One of our guests was a man who had for many years been a ship-master, and had in the course of his voyages become familiar with many countries. After the meats and other edibles were removed, and while the beer-can

was passing with the rapidity I have noted, our guest was called upon for a toast. He was, in sailor parlance, "three sheets in the wind, and the fourth shivering," and with much maudlin gravity, he commenced, "Gentlemen, I wish to propose to you as a sentiment, the health of a lady, young, wealthy, beautiful and accomplished; a bright particular star, which seldom gleams across the dark path of a sailor's life, to lighten up and cheer the otherwise gloomy track of his stormy and troubled existence. The remembrance of her kind and generous affection to me, of the mutual vows of love and fidelity which we have plighted to cach other, and which I yet mean to fulfil, have been my solace under all the cheerlessness and privations of my prison life. Gentlemen, she is dear to me here, (laying his hand on his heart,) and I hope you will all do me the favor to drink her health in a bumper. Gentlemen, here's to Sally Orr." "Sally Orr," we all repeated, and 'gave three cheers to her health. After the cheering had subsided, our little captain, who had, at the sound of the name, been casting at us some knowing winks from one corner of his eyes, said,

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Sally Orr, D-y, does'nt she live near Limekiln dock, in Belfast ?" "Yes," replied D- -y, with much appearance of surprise: "do you know her?" "Know her, to be sure I do, and know her well, too; why, she did all my washing when I was in Belfast."

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Blood and thunder," roared out D-y, "Sally Orr a washerwoman! you lie, you little swarthy scoundrel ;" and suiting the action to the words, he floored the captain directly. All was in confusion for a moment; but the captain picked himself up, and said that he might be mistaken in the name, which D-y accepted as an apology, and harmony was restored to our party.

On the morning of the 25th, the captain departed he was in high spirits, bade us all a hearty farewell, adding a few words to each by way of encouragement. I accompanied him to the outer gate, for since the massacre we had not been so much restricted as before, parted from him with another hearty squeeze of the hand, and took then what I thought to be a last look, of one who for fifteen months had been my mess-mate. The thought was over

powering-I wept, I will not pretend to deny it, for to me he had been always very kind and affectionate, and I felt that to him I owed nearly all of the few comforts which had solaced my life in prison; and as I looked down the long vista, toward the village of Princeton, to which he was wending his way, I felt deeply, with all his peculiarities, and failings and faults, I, at least, could have better spared a better man. Our mess was now reduced to four, and our neighborhood was thinned off by the detachments which had gone off. We passed a week gloomily enough; for the release seemed to have stopped for a time, and we did not hear of any more cartels at Plymouth; and my own prospect of release was far enough distant, as there were over two thousand to go before it came to my turn.

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May 1st.—The orders had been given last night for a draft to leave this morning, and as soon as breakfast was over they marched off. About 9 o'clock, as I was sauntering in the market-yard, almost the only individual who was there, (it being a rainy morning,) I heard my name proclaimed by the crier, with orders to walk up to the captain's office. I lost not a moment in obeying the summons, and there I had the interview with Captain Shortland which I have before related. I was there told, that I must leave the depot immediately, and proceed to Plymouth, and report myself to Mr. Nathaniel Ingraham, the cartel agent. I was, as the sailors say, hove all aback" with the order; I knew not how to believe it to be real; I almost doubted whether it was not a dream, 'till I remembered the parting words of the little captain, cheer up, my boy, I'll get you out pretty soon.' I had almost forgotten them, as I looked upon them then as without any other meaning than a kind effort to cheer my evident despondency. I returned to my mess, and communicated the news to my mess-mate of gambling memory. The poor fellow wished me joy, with tears in his eyes; I knew he was reflecting on his own fortune, for we had been captured together, and his number was two or three before mine on the list. We had been mess-mates together eighteen months, and not an angry word had ever passed between

us, nor an unkind feeling indulged. My lazy mess-mate was in his hammock, sound asleep; and I thought it a pity to wake him, as he indulged in its fullest significance the sentiment of honest Sancho, "blessings on that man who first invented sleep." The mathematician was on his roost, and I did not interrupt his studies, for my feelings towards him were pretty much like the love of Master Abraham Slender for Mistress Anne Page: "there was no great love at the beginning, and it pleased heaven to decrease it on better acquaintance with more familiarity grew more contempt." How to get my "duds" away was now the question; for the prisoners had resolved some time before to hinder any one from going away before his turn, unless he bought the right of another. Luckily for me, the rain kept the prisoners in, and there was scarcely a solitary individual in the yard. I gave out, that as our mess was so much broken up, I was going to join one in No. 1, for the passage to No. 1 would lead me by the gate of the market-square. My messmate and myself took my little wardrobe and my dead mess-mate's trunk, and passed on, telling this story to all we met. It seemed to me that some of them eyed us with much suspicion, but we got along unmolested to the gate. When there, I slipped through, shook hands with my companion, aud rather flew than walked to the office to get my passport. How to get to Plymouth it was difficult for me to think, for it was raining violently; the road was fifteen or sixteen miles, and my own bag and the dead man's trunk were more than I could lug, for I was then in strength a mere child. No one would recognise in the writer of this narrative, now a robust man, of round, aldermanic proportions, the poor, feeble, emaciated youth who was that day released from prisou, and weighing, by the scales at Plymouth, just ninetyfour pounds. I found a kind soldier who was not on duty, and who pitied me. He was an Irishman, and the Irish are always kind, God bless them for it. He slung my bag across his shoulder, took my trunk in his hand, and carried them for me to Princeton. I meant to leave them there to the chance of their ever overtaking me, and to trudge on, on foot, to Plymouth.

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I offered the soldier a few pennies, but he refused them. I thought the offer was not sufficient to satisfy him, and I pulled out a three shilling token; but he rejected it, with a waive of his hand, and the salutation, No, no, my boy, you'll have need enough of it yet. God bless you, and send you safe to your own country." This little act of kindness of the poor Irish soldier affected me deeply. This is a good world after all, people may say what they will about it; and during my captivity and since, I have met with more, much more kindness than unkindness. I have had it in my power since, (I thank God for it.) to render some little service to my poor brethren of God's great family of man, and whether the recipients of kindness are grateful or not, the bestower feels better.

At Princeton I found a wagon, which had been up to the depot with shoes, and was returning to Plymouth. I struck up a bargain with the wagoner, and now my token came in play. I looked back on the walls of the prison, and while I felt thankful for my own deliverance, I felt something like a sensation of pain at leaving those with whom I had been so long associated.

The wagoner was a west country boor, who had little sympathy with me or my feelings. I tried to enter into conversation with him, but I could get nothing beyond a monosyllable in reply, so I soon gave over the attempt. I was thus left to my own reflections; and now my feelings, which had been so highly wrought upon before, experienced a corresponding depression. I was returning to my native country. and what a prospect was before me! I had no trade, no knowledge of business; I had been a few years in a store, but my master's business fell off by reason of the war, and he felt himself obliged to dismiss me, when I had just begun to get a little insight into it. This was three years before, and the little knowledge I had acquired was long since forgotten. I was verging on to manhood, and my physical frame was not adequate to labor, nor to the duties of a sailor's life before the mast. My parents were in humble life; I had left home because I would not be a burden to them; I could not bear to eat the bread of idleness, depriving those who were of the feebler sex, and younger

than I, of any portion of their scanty morsel. I had not, that I knew of, a single friend in the wide world who had the ability to assist me. I was returning, feeble and penniless, and for awhile I almost wished myself in Dartmoor again, to stave off, for a few months longer, that future which I dreaded to encounter. Thanks to a merciful Providence, these gloomy anticipations were never realized. Where I expected only briars, flowers have sprung up in life's pathway. The sea of life has been with me, for the most part, smooth, and the gales, with the exception of an occasional head-flaw, prosperous.

And now when I reflect on my sojourn in Dartmoor, I do not think that it was wholly profitless. I saw human nature there-much of it, to be sure, in its worst aspect; but I acquired a knowledge of men and a confidence in my own resources, which I should probably have failed to do under a less severe training.

On my arrival at Plymouth, I was ordered by Mr. Ingraham to go on board the cartel-ship; and, on mounting her deck, the secret of my unexpected release was explained, for I found my kind little mess-mate on board as agent. How, or by what means, he had contrived to obtain the office, I know not; but he had managed so as to get it, and he had managed to get me out of prison to do the duty for him, for he had a Mirabeau's faculty of setting others to work for him. I do not mention this to his disparagement, for I believe, that if he could have had no use for me, he had still kindness enough to have procured my release if possible. Under his auspices I was installed into the cabin mess, consisting of five paroled prisoners from Ashburton, and of six masters and officers from Dartmoor. We had on board, in all, 329 quondam prisoners.

The Ariel was an old ship, (the captain said she was 50,) badly found in sails and rigging, and with a very feeble and inefficient crew; but the owners probably relied on the assistance of the Americans to get her along. When we got out to sea, she was found to leak badly, and her own crew would never have been able to keep her free and do the ship's duty. The captain (Falvey) was, I should think, some fifteen years

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