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Captain John Crane, 1800 - 1815

<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</h2> RELEASED ON PAROLE.—GO TO PORTSMOUTH.—OLD FRIENDS.—DECLARATION OF PEACE.—RETURN TO AMERICA.—WEDDING BELLS.—THE END. It required the unlocking and opening of several doors to reach the office of the commandant; and at each door the orderly was obliged to exhibit a permit from the commandant for me to accompany him, or rather, for him to be accompanied by "one prisoner." At the last of the gates the permit was retained by the keeper; there was another gate to be passed to get outside the prison, consequently it would have been impossible for the orderly to set me free had he been inclined to do so. Captain Shortland did not waste time or words in the interview between us. "Are you John Crane, captain of the late privateer Marguerite?" he asked, as soon as I was brought into his presence. "I am," I answered. "You are to be released on parole, according to orders from London. William Haines, your second mate, goes with you." [295] Then he turned instantly to another orderly, and told him to go for William Haines. A secretary made out the necessary permit, and the orderly departed. I waited for him to say something further to me, but speedily found from his manner that he had nothing to say. Watching till he paused in giving instructions to those about him, I asked if I was to go immediately. Without looking up from his desk he said,— "You will leave here very soon." "In that case I would like to go back to my quarters for a few minutes." "What do you want to go back for?" he asked, in a tone almost of vexation. "I want to pack my trunks and store my furniture," I said; "and also want to say good-by to my comrades." The absurdity of the first half of my reason for returning seemed to amuse him, for he smiled visibly, in spite of the austerity of his manner. He knew that I had nothing but the clothes I stood in, and therefore my trunk-packing and storage of furniture were flights of fancy. He nodded assent, and told his secretary to fill out a permit. I went back with the orderly, bade farewell to my companions in misfortune, promised to do all I could for them, and then returned to the command[296]ant's office. I was not permitted to speak to any one but those in my immediate mess, and then only in the presence of the orderly. On reaching the office I was carefully searched to make sure that I had no letters concealed about me. When the search was concluded I was told to stand aside and wait orders. Haines came while I was waiting; he asked permission to go back to say good-by to his companions, but was abruptly refused. We waited ten or fifteen minutes, and then were required to sign certain papers which set forth the conditions of our parole. These were made out in triplicate, and one copy was given to me and one to Haines, to remind us of our promise in case we might be tempted to forget it, and also to prove to any officer of his Majesty's service or anybody else who had a right to know, who and what we were. Then we received the money that was taken from us on our arrival. Ten minutes later we were escorted out of the office and beyond the prison gates, where a wagon was waiting. In this wagon we took seats, and immediately set off for Plymouth, rattling along the descending road in fine style. How different the journey was compared with our toilsome ascent on foot! We were taken to the office of the commandant of the Citadel, where our papers were examined,[297] and a letter was placed in my hand. It was from Captain Graham, explaining the delay that had occurred in consequence of his absence in Germany at the time my letter was posted to him. He had obtained our release on parole, and arranged for our passage to Portsmouth, where he was stationed. He gave me directions for finding the office at which our passage had been secured, and told us where we could find him when we reached Portsmouth. We went to the office and ascertained that the packet, a schooner, would leave the next morning for Portsmouth, and we must be on board not later than six bells. From the office we went straight to The Blue Anchor, and made ourselves known to Joe Waghorn, its proprietor, telling him we had been released on parole. "All right, mates," said he; "and where's yer papers?" We showed him our paroles; and as soon as he had read them he said he had something he'd been keeping for us. The "something" was a box containing my private effects, which had been taken from the Marguerite to the Reindeer at the time of the former's capture, and left in the hands of her commander. Captain Woods had taken good care of them, and so had Waghorn, as I found everything safe and secure. [298] What Haines had saved from the wreck was in a canvas sack, and Waghorn told me that the dunnage-bags of the Marguerite's men were stored in a warehouse close by, and could be had whenever the prisoners were liberated. The Reindeer only remained a few days in port, and had gone to sea again in the hope of using up more American privateers. In good time the next morning we were on board the Portsmouth packet, which left very promptly with a favoring wind. What a delight it was to be on the sea again, and how we enjoyed every whiff of the fresh breeze that was blowing! It seemed to me that years had elapsed since I last sailed the ocean; years of suffering and sorrow; but I was rapidly forgetting them all in the delight of my newly regained liberty. All day I remained on deck. When night came and we retired to the cabin I was unable to sleep, so great was the ecstasy of being again afloat and free! Haines had the same experience. He explained to me in the morning that he found it so jolly sleeping on board ship again that he had to lie awake to enjoy it. We sailed up the Solent, which separates the Isle of Wight from the mainland, and entered the roadstead of Spithead, passing the spot where the Royal[299] George went down in 1782. She was a man-of-war, and had been heeled over while undergoing repairs. While in this position a gust of wind struck her, carrying her so far over that the water rushed in through the port-holes of the depressed side, and filled her rapidly, so that she sank in a few minutes. Eleven hundred persons were aboard at the time, including the admiral, all the officers and crew, and three hundred women and children. Two hundred were saved, and all the rest were drowned, including the admiral and nearly all the women and children. Many of her guns have been fished up, but all attempts to raise the hull have failed. As we passed the spot where the wreck lies, I thought of the lines of the poet Cowper, which were written shortly after the occurrence:— <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> <div class="line">"Toll for the brave,</div> <div class="line i1">The brave that are no more!</div> <div class="line">All sunk beneath the wave,</div> <div class="line i1">Fast by their native shore!"</div> </div></div> </div> Portsmouth is an important naval and military station of England, and has a splendid harbor, four miles long by three in width, opening upon the magnificent roadstead of Spithead, where a thousand ships of the line could ride at anchor, and find plenty of room. The dockyards are very extensive; at least, that is what I was told, as we were not[300] permitted to visit them, nor to go about the fortifications, which were jealously guarded against inspection by foreigners. As soon as we had landed I wrote to the address which Captain Graham had given me, telling of our arrival, and naming the hotel where we were staying, which was one that had been suggested by our friend Waghorn, of The Blue Anchor, at Plymouth. I sent the letter by a boy who was attached to the hotel; and, two or three hours later, a note came from the captain, telling me he had spoken for lodgings for us at a house in Southsea, the southern suburb of Portsmouth, and advising me to go there at once. With the aid of the boy we moved to the lodgings, and found them very comfortable, as well as reasonable in price. Captain Graham was living in Southsea with his family, and the lodgings he had secured for us were less than ten minutes' walk from his house. He invited me to call there in the evening, and bring Haines with me. It was with much difficulty that I persuaded the honest fellow to accompany me, as he dreaded the tortures of sitting at table along with what he called "fashionable folks," and even shrank from an hour upon a chair in a parlor! We went, and were most cordially received. On[301] my comrade's account I had agreed that the call should be a short one, and I took the opportunity to whisper as much to the captain, while Haines was engaged in conversation with Mrs. Graham and her daughters. Before we left the house the captain asked if we were in need of anything which he could supply. Happily I had all the money required for our present wants, and so told him; whereupon he said he wished me to inform him promptly whenever he could be of any service. Of course I promised to do so, and then the subject was dropped. I asked his advice as to our movements and conduct, now that we were out on parole. "I would advise" said he, "that you live here as quietly as you can, at least for the present. The indications are that the war will not last much longer; our government and people are getting tired of it, thanks to the depredations of your privateers upon our commerce. We have learned that American sailors can fight just as well as British ones; and no man of sense in England disparages your navy at the present time, as he was likely to do before the war broke out. The British loss of merchantmen, of all classes, is fully twenty-three hundred, while the American loss does not exceed five hundred. Fifty-six British war vessels have been captured, with eight hundred and eighty cannon;[302] while twenty-five American war vessels with three hundred and fifty guns have been taken by us. The game is a losing one to the British side, and negotiations for peace are now going on!" "And the sooner we have it the better for all concerned," I replied. "No one will hail it more warmly than I shall." "For one, I shall be very glad of it," said Mrs. Graham, "as I don't like to be obliged to regard you and Mr. Haines as enemies." "Nor we ain't no enemies, neither, Mrs. Graham," replied Haines, with more self-possession than I had seen him display during the entire evening; "if our countries are clawin' at each other 'tain't no reason why we should fight!" A few minutes later we took our leave. Next day we visited a tailor, and procured clothing that was not likely to be remarked as foreign garb, and from that time on we lived very quietly. I was a frequent, almost a daily, visitor at the house of the Grahams; dined and took tea with them quite often; walked out occasionally with the two girls; and spent many an hour in their charming little parlor. Mrs. Graham suggested that I ought to write the story of my adventures to pass away the time; and it was by her prompting that I devoted my forenoons to putting on paper the narrative which is rapidly coming to an end. [303] Haines amused himself by taking short strolls around Portsmouth and its suburbs of Southsea and Portsea; but he was very cautious about his movements, lest he might be impressed, and taken to serve on one of his Majesty's ships. On his account I ransacked an old book-store, and bought a supply of sea stories and other reading matter, with which he whiled away a good many hours. He never ventured out at night, but haunted the smoking-room of our lodging-house, where he was a general favorite on account of his facility at spinning yarns, of which the majority were of other material than the pure, unadulterated wool of truth. One morning he went out for his usual promenade, leaving me busy in my room with my writing. He came back fully an hour before his accustomed time, rushing into my room, very red in the face, and puffing considerably from having walked with much more than ordinary rapidity. He dropped into a chair, ejaculating as he did so,— "Shiver my timbers, Captain, but there's big news!" "What is it?" I asked, as I ceased writing and placed my pen on the table. "What is it! Well, the news is the two countries have made peace; and you and me won't be the enemies of the Grahams no more." [304] "The captain was correct in his predictions," I replied, "when he said the war would not last much longer. We'll have a chance to go home now; and the first thing to look after is the liberation of the crew of the Marguerite. I'll go at once to the Grahams' and ascertain if the news is well founded, or only a rumor." "Seems to me it has a good foundation," said Haines, "as they've got a big placard up in front of the post-office, saying there's peace between Great Britain and the United States! I heard a feller say it came down by semaphore from London. The semaphore was a-workin' at a lively rate; but, of course, I don't know nothin' more about it than a cat does about boxin' the compass!" <hr class="tb" /> The lines above these stars were the last that I wrote in my lodgings at Southsea. It was really true that terms of peace had been agreed upon between the two countries and the war was at an end. Great Britain made overtures for peace as early as December, 1813, the British government sending them to the government of the United States by a schooner, the Bramble, bearing a flag of truce. She arrived at Annapolis, Maryland, Jan. 1, 1814; and as soon as the President received the communi[305]cation he informed Congress, which immediately took action. The United States met the overtures in a spirit of conciliation, and each of the two powers appointed three commissioners to negotiate a treaty. When the American commissioners reached England they remained unnoticed for some months, and then the ministry endeavored to avoid the question by proposing several places of meeting, one after the other, and so consumed more time. In this way half a year was used up, and the commissioners of the two governments did not come together until August, 1814, their meeting-place being at Ghent, in Belgium. Four months later the treaty was signed, and it was speedily ratified by both governments. It stipulated for the mutual restoration of all places taken during the war, or which might be taken after the signing of the treaty, declared that all captures made at sea, on both sides, should be given up if made after the signing of the treaty, and required each party to put a stop to Indian hostilities and endeavor to suppress the slave-trade. It provided for the settlement of all disputes about boundaries; but it left untouched the question of impressment of seamen, which was the principal cause of the war. But it is my opinion, in which Captain Graham agrees with me, and so does everybody else whose[306] views are worth considering, that Great Britain has learned a lesson which will make her regard the rights of Americans in future, as she has not regarded them in the past. I venture to predict that never again will an American sailor be impressed into the British navy, and we shall not hear again of British officers exercising the "right of search" on the high seas. It is now more than a year since the war ended, and there has been no report of a single instance of search or impressment. A few days after the arrival of the news of the treaty of peace I bade farewell to my friends at Portsmouth and went to Plymouth, in the hope of doing something towards the release of the crew of the Marguerite. But all my efforts, even when backed by the influence of Captain Graham and other officials, were of no avail. I was not allowed to see the prisoners, or even to communicate with them, and they did not know of the end of the war until fully three months after the signing of the treaty of peace. Even then the inmates of Dartmoor prison obtained the intelligence surreptitiously, and not officially, and from that time on they were in daily expectation of release. The delay of the authorities in making arrangements for sending them home caused much impatience among the prisoners, and they became muti[307]nous. On the 4th of April, 1815, they declined to receive the hard biscuit that was served to them, and demanded bread. Two days later many of them refused to retire to their quarters when ordered to do so; and they displayed such a spirit of rebellion that Captain Shortland ordered the soldiers to fire upon them. Five prisoners were killed, and thirty wounded. The Americans regarded the affair as a wanton massacre, while the British claim that it was justifiable under the circumstances. Finding that we could accomplish nothing, and that the interests of the prisoners, when released, would be looked after by the American consul at Plymouth, Haines and I, having been liberated from our paroles, embraced the opportunity of coming home on a brig that was leaving Plymouth for New York. Before leaving, we told the consul where the dunnage-bags of the Marguerite's crew could be found, and put him into communication with Joe Waghorn, of The Blue Anchor. The day before we sailed we had the good fortune to meet our old friend and captor, Captain Woods, who had been appointed into the Royal Navy; and, if I may use Haines's expression, "had brass enough about his uniform to make a cannon of!" When we reached New York, the first man I asked for was David Taylor, my old schoolmate, friend, and shipmate. [308] "He was luckier than you were," said the head clerk of the owners of the Marguerite and Hyacinth, "as he came into port all right and safe, though he was badly cut up and didn't believe he could have kept afloat three days longer. He had thrown overboard all his guns and shot in order to lighten his schooner while being chased by two men-of-war, so that he required a new armament. By the time the Hyacinth was ready for sea again the probabilities of peace became so great that the owners decided not to send her out. Taylor went to his old home in New Hampshire, and he's there yet; but I believe he'll be back soon to take command of a vessel that is to sail for the West Indies. Oh! here's a letter for you that came several days ago." I saw that the letter was from David, and so I stepped aside and opened it. It contained good news from all the members of both our families, and the announcement that, after another year or so of sea-life, he would abandon the career of a sailor and settle down on shore. His share of the proceeds of the captures by the Hyacinth was sufficient to make him and family comfortable; but he said he did not propose to live a life of idleness. He had not fully made up his mind what to do, but thought he would buy a farm a few miles from New York, and devote a large share of his time to its management. [309] Haines and Herne decided that they were getting too old for sea-life; their prize money, in addition to previous savings, was sufficient for all their wants; and after many consultations they decided to become farmers. They went into partnership and bought a small farm on Long Island, about seven miles back of Brooklyn, and with it an assortment of live-stock, including horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and chickens. They have two horses and a pair of oxen. The horses have been named Foremast and Mizzen, and the oxen bear the nautical appellations of Starboard and Larboard, their position when under the yoke being indicated by their names. Their three cows are Washington, Hyacinth, and Marguerite, and the greediest of the pigs is designated by the name of one of the sailors of the old Washington who was famed for his abilities in the eating line. Haines told me, when I visited them, that the horses and oxen were bothered a good deal at first by the nautical expressions of their masters instead of "gee!" and "haw!" to which they had been accustomed, but a few weeks set them all right. "Them oxen knows what 'Belay!' means just as well as I do," said Haines; "and you ought to see old Foremast and Mizzen heel over to leeward and lay to their work when I calls out 'Give way, boys!' They make me proud that I'm a farmer." [310] While Herne was feeding the pigs and chickens, Haines and I took a stroll over the farm in the direction of its western boundary. I remarked that their neighbor had a good house; whereupon Haines became visibly embarrassed, and with some hesitation told me that the house was the property of a nice widow, and her farm was quite as large and good as the one possessed by the two sailors. "Are you acquainted with the widow?" I asked. "Yes,—that is, Herne's acquainted with her, and I know her somewhat. Fact is, Herne's engaged to her, and I'm engaged to her sister, who lives with her, and we're to have a double wedding here about a month from now. Herne's going to live on the widder's farm; I'll buy him out in this; and we'll hope to be neighbors and friends a good many years. Won't you come out to the weddin', Cap'n, if you're not away at sea when it comes off?" I promised the good fellow I would do so, and I did; and one of the members of the firm went along with me. We had an enjoyable time, and an opportunity for seeing many of the inhabitants of that region who had been invited to the affair. Most of them were of Dutch descent; and the two sisters who respectively became Mrs. Haines and Mrs. Herne showed in their substantial figures and ruddy faces that they were descended from the people who emigrated from the dykes and marshes of Holland to live under the rule of Peter Stuyvesant and Wouter Van Twiller. As for myself, I've abandoned the sea, and hope to spend the rest of my days on solid ground. The owners for whom I have sailed have made me some excellent offers, and if I needed the money you may be sure I should be off very soon on another voyage. I think I shall buy a farm near New York, marry, and settle down; and if time hangs heavy on my hands I can lighten it by running over in memory my experiences as a sailor in peace and war. THE END. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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