The next morning we took a survey of our new quarters. We found ourselves placed in a large yard, surrounded by high walls, and strongly guarded by soldiers. Within this inclosure, there was a building, or shed, composed of three rooms, neither of which had any floor. Round the sides stood three benches or stages, one above the other, to serve for berths. On these we spread our hammocks and bed-clothes, making them tolerably comfortable places to sleep in. A few of the men preferred to sling their hammocks, as they did at sea. Here, also, we used to eat, unless, as was our frequent practice, we did so in the open air.
Our officers had been sent thirty miles inland, so that we had lost the natural exactors of discipline among seamen. To remedy this deficiency, our first step was to adopt a set of regulations in respect to order, cleanliness, &c., and to appoint certain of our number to enforce them.
We experienced some unpleasantness, at first, from the insolence of some of the sergeants commanding the prison guard. Most of these petty officers were very friendly and kind, but two or three of them manifested a surly, tyrannical temper, annoying us in many little things, enough to embitter our enjoyment, while they were on duty. This petty despotism we soon cured, by returning their abuse in a rather provoking kind of coin. We used to plague them by causing a long delay when the hour arrived for them to be relieved. They were required to muster us every morning, that we might be counted before the new guard took us in charge. On those occasions some would purposely absent themselves; others were sent to find the absentees; these, in their turn, would hide themselves, and require to be sought by others. This was excessively vexatious to the soldiers, and as it occurred only when a tyrannical sergeant was on guard, they soon understood its meaning. The plan was successful, and we thus got rid of one source of discomfort.
Our next difficulty was with the old Dutchman, named Badiem, who furnished our prison with provisions. He had already learned the difficulty of cheating a Yankee; for the Americans who were carried away in the Denmark had been in this same prison, and had taught the old man that they were rougher customers than the Frenchmen who had preceded them. We gave him another lesson.
He undertook to wrong us and benefit himself by furnishing a very inferior article of bread. After counselling among ourselves, we took the following plan to bring him to his senses:
We were visited every day by a superior officer, called the officer of the day. He was a kind old man, who had seen service in the war of the revolution, and was at the battle of Bunker Hill. He had a profound respect for the American character, and could not speak of that great action without tears. One day a friendly sergeant being on duty, we gave him a piece of the old Dutchman’s bread, complaining bitterly of its quality. When the old officer came round as usual, on a fine, dashing charger, and asked his customary question of “All right?” our friend the sergeant replied, “No, sir!”
“What is the matter?” asked the venerable old gentleman.
“The prisoners complain of their bread, sir,” said the sergeant.
“Let me see it,” answered the general. The sergeant gave him a small piece. He examined it, wrapped it up carefully in some paper, clapped the spurs to his horse, and rode off. The next day, we had better bread than ever before, and an order came for a man from each room to go with the sentry to the town every morning, to examine our daily provision; and, if not what it should be, to reject it. This completely upset the golden visions of the old Dutchman. With much choler he exclaimed, “I had rather have one tousand Frenchmen, than one hundred Yankees.”
We could not now complain of our fare. We had an abundance of beef and mutton, beside a full allowance of bread, &c. The beef, to be sure, was poor, lean stuff, but the mutton was excellent. The sheep at the Cape have a peculiarity, which may cause the reader to smile. They have enormously large, flat tails, weighing from twelve to twenty pounds. These are regularly sold by the pound for purposes of cookery. Should any one treat this statement as a forecastle yarn, I refer him to the descriptions of these sheep, given by travellers and naturalists.
Besides our prison allowance, we had opportunity to purchase as many little luxuries and niceties as our slender finances would permit. These were furnished by a slave, who was the property of the old Dutchman, and who was so far a favorite as to be indulged with two wives, and the privilege of selling sundry small articles to the prisoners. This sable polygamist furnished us with coffee, made from burnt barley, for a doublegee (an English penny) per pint; the same sum would purchase a sausage, a piece of fish, or a glass of rum. On equally reasonable terms, he furnished us with blackberries, oranges, &c. Our men, who, by the way had eaten fruit in every quarter of the globe, and were therefore competent judges, pronounced the latter the best in the world. The berries afforded me a rich treat at Christmas.
To obtain means for the purchase of these dainties, our men braided hats, wrought at mechanical employments, or at such pursuits as their respective tastes and capacities suggested. These occupations served to beguile our confinement of much of its tediousness.
Still, we had many vacant, listless hours. To fill them, we resorted to the demoralizing practice of gambling. A game with balls, called shake-bag, loo, venture, all-fours, &c. occupied our evening hours, and sometimes the whole night. It was not uncommon for the game to be protracted beyond the midnight hour of Saturday, into the sacred moments of the holy Sabbath. On one of these guilty mornings, some of us, on retiring to a shed, found the dead body of a black slave, hanging by the rope, with which, in a moment of unpardonable despair, he had committed the horrid crime of suicide. The hour, the scene, the place, our recent guilty profanation of God’s holy day, conspired to fill many of us with profound dread. In my own mind it led to a few transient purposes of amendment. Alas! when the bright sun arose, these purposes had vanished. The influence of vice triumphed. I grew more and more hardened in wickedness.
Cape Town contained a large slave population. These poor wretches had been extremely degraded under the rule of the Dutch. It was said that their condition had been essentially improved since the conquest of the place by the English. Still, as the suicide just mentioned demonstrated, slavery was a bitter draught. The British have done wisely since then in granting freedom to the slaves in all their colonies. May the whole world imitate the noble example!
We were subjected to frequent and violent gales of wind while here. The approach of these storms was always faithfully proclaimed by the mountain that towered up behind us; a large white cloud, resting on its summit, like a tablecloth, was a certain indication of the elemental warfare. Whenever this phenomenon appeared, our men used to remark, “Look out for a blow, the cloth is beginning to spread.” Very soon the vessels in the bay could be seen striking their top-gallant masts and yards, and sometimes even housing their top-masts. In a few minutes the ocean would give signs of the coming commotion; the waves became crested with clouds of foam, and the spirit of the storm was seen careering in triumph over the liquid mountains of the angry deep.
Besides Table mountain, there was another near it, called the Lion’s Rump, from its similarity to that noble animal in a sitting posture. On the summit of this mountain was a telegraph, which informed us, in common with the people of the Cape, of the approach of shipping to the harbor.
At the town, the British had a hospital for the accommodation of their army and navy. The advantages of this institution were humanely and properly offered to us, whenever we were sick. Happening to be quite unwell one day, my shipmates advised me to go thither. Now, on board the Siren, when in a similar state, the surgeon had administered an ounce of Glauber salts. The dose caused such nausea, that from that time I held salts in profound abhorrence. When the hospital was suggested to me, I associated it with the idea of salts, and, shuddering, remarked that “I would go if I thought they would not give me salts.” My shipmates all said they thought I should not have salts prescribed: so, under the guard of a sentry, I sallied forth to the hospital. “Well, my boy,” said the doctor, “what’s the matter with you?”
With many wry faces, I told him my symptoms; when, to my inconceivable mortification and disgust, he spoke to a sort of lob-lolly boy, who waited upon him, and said, “Doctor Jack! bring this boy six ounces of salts.”
This was intolerable. One ounce had sickened me for months at the bare mention of salts, and now I was to swallow six! It seemed impossible. The remedy was worse than the disease. I wished myself back at my quarters. This was, however, in vain, unless I took a dangerous leap from the window. I must submit. The salts were brought, but they were not so bad, either in quality or quantity, as my dose in the Siren. The reason I found to consist in the fact, that they were Epsom instead of Glauber, and that the six ounces included the weight of the water in which they were dissolved. So well was I pleased with my visit to the hospital, and especially with the privilege afforded me of walking about the streets of Cape Town, that I afterwards feigned illness to gain another admission. I was willing to take the salts for the sake of the liberty of jaunting about the streets. Of the sin of lying I thought nothing. I was a sailor, caring little for aught but present gratification. The beauty of truth I had never seen; the hatefulness of a lie I had never learned. Most gratefully do I acknowledge that Divine goodness, which has since effectually taught me both the one and the other.
At Cape Town there was a small prison, called the “Trunk.” To this place those of our number, who were disorderly, were sent, to be closely confined, on no other diet than bread and water, for as many days as the commandant might designate. We always quietly permitted any offender among us to be sent thither without resistance: but when, on one occasion, an attempt was made to confine two of our shipmates unjustly, we gave them a demonstration, which saved us afterwards from any similar attempt.
Two of our men had hung out some clothes, they had just washed, in our yard, near their own shed. Now, it happened that the doctor to the military stationed at the Cape, had an entrance to his office through our yard. The clothes were undesignedly hung across his path, compelling him either to stoop a little in passing, or to ask their removal. He was too proud to adopt either of these peaceful methods, but, with manifest spitefulness, he took out his knife and cut the line, so that the clothes fell into the dirt. The owners, seeing their wet clothing in this condition, broke out into passionate inquiries after the offender. “It was the English doctor,” replied one of our shipmates, who had witnessed the whole affair. This brought forth a volley of sailors’ oaths from the offended parties. The enraged doctor overheard their wrathful ebullitions, and, without further ceremony, ordered the two men to be carried to the “Trunk.”
Here, then, was a manifest case of injustice. We resolved not to submit to it, let the consequences be what they might. When the sergeant came in for the doctor’s victims, we all turned out in a body, declaring we would all go to the “Trunk” together. The sergeant, seeing us in this state of rebellion, called out the whole guard, and ordered them to load and fire upon us. We were not however so easily scared. We shouted, “Fire away! You will have but one fire, and then it will be our turn.” At the same time we picked up all the broken glass, sticks, stones, &c., which were within our reach, and stood waiting for their firing as the signal for a general mêlée. The sergeant, seeing our resolution, and wisely considering that our superiority in numbers, might secure us a victory over the handful composing his guard, ordered the soldiers to retire. We never heard any more of the little doctor’s indignation: it probably evaporated, like the moisture from the clothes his petty indignation had thrown to the ground. How insignificant such acts appear, in men professing to be gentlemen!
Shortly after this event, we were thrown into confusion and temporary excitement, by the approach of a large party to our prison, at midnight, attended by a band of music. We turned out and rushed to the gate of our yard. The guard turned out likewise, trembling under the impression that our countrymen had captured the town and were coming to give us our liberty. Their fears and our wonder were quieted, however, by a speedy discovery of the true character of this midnight party. It was a Dutch wedding, coming to the house of the old Dutchman, our caterer; the entrance to which being in our yard, the party had to pass directly through our territories; which they did, their band playing the tune of “A free and accepted Mason.”
Notwithstanding we were in tolerably comfortable circumstances, our confinement soon became exceedingly irksome. We pined for freedom; we longed to get once more where the “old gridiron” floated in fearless triumph. A report of the burning of Washington by the British added not a little to our desire. We began to talk of home. This led to other suggestions; these to the formation of plans for our escape. We at length concerted a measure, which was, to break from the prison in the night, disarm and confine the guard, help ourselves to boats, and cut out some large ship, in which we might make our escape to America. The success of this plot, however, was never tested; for, reaching the ears of the commander, the guards were strengthened; the light dragoons ordered out to patrol the harbor; and such other preventive measures adopted, as cut off all hope of forcible escape. Our only remedy for this disappointment, was submission, and boasting of what we would have done, had we got into the strife for liberty.
As the period of our imprisonment drew towards a close, we were informed that the Rev. George Thom, a missionary, was desirous to come and preach to us. Some of our men objected, because, they said, he would preach about his king, and they had no desire to hear anything about kings. Others said, “Let him come; we will hear him with attention, and if we don’t like him we can afterwards stay away. At any rate, don’t let us abuse him; but rather show him that Americans know what is good behavior.”
This reply shows the true spirit of the mass of seamen in respect to religion; for though they care little about personal piety, they will not, usually, unless intoxicated, insult a minister. This was once shown in the experience of the eccentric Rowland Hill; when a mob threatened the old gentleman with mischief, some sailors present rallied round him, threatening vengeance on any who dared to insult the preacher.
Accordingly, we sent our respects to Mr. Thom, inviting him to favor us with a visit. We then cleaned and fitted up one room with benches. The following Sabbath he came. His preaching was earnest, simple and interesting. Instead of discoursing about kings, as some had predicted, the only king about whom he preached, was the King of heaven. We invited him to come again. He accepted the invitation, and our meetings soon began to be profitable and interesting. We had singing, for several of our men were tolerable singers, and they were aided by the presence of some pious soldiers from the garrison, and occasionally by Mrs. Thom, the amiable lady of our excellent preacher. Our officers, too, frequently came from their residence, and were pleased to see the good order and happiness apparent on these occasions. I assure my readers, that the most delightful moments of our imprisonment were those we spent in singing some sweet hymn, in the good old-fashioned tunes of Bridgewater, Russia, Wells, &c.
Among the texts used by Mr. Thom, I remember the following: “Turn ye to the strong-hold, ye prisoners of hope;” Zech. ix. 12. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” &c.; Rev. iii. 20. “And yet there is room;” Luke xiv. 22. It was really pleasing to hear the various remarks made by our men, after listening to faithful discourses from these and similar texts. One would remark, “He hit me a clew.” To this another would reply, “He shot away my colors.” A third would add, “He shot away my rigging;” while a fourth would say, “He gave me a shot;” and a fifth, “He gave me a broadside.” Thus, in their rough way, did they express the impressions made on their minds by the discourse.
Mr. Thom was a faithful servant of his Master, the Lord Jesus Christ. He did not rest satisfied with these public efforts, but, during the week, he visited us for the purpose of serious conversation. Several of us were really under strong conviction, and would confess, at these inquiry meetings, and to each other as we paced the yard, how often we had sinned, even cursing our Maker when on the yard at night, amid the roaring of the storm, the bellowing of the thunder, and the angry flashing of the lightning. A happy practical effect followed. Gambling ceased, cards and shake-bag lost their charms. The time was spent in reading useful books. Bibles and religious books were given or loaned to us. Among these were Baxter’s Call, Doddridge’s Rise and Progress of Religion, &c. To some extent we were altered men. Had we remained much longer under these gracious influences, most of us, I think, would have become experimental Christians. As it was, the seed was not wholly wasted. Impressions were made, which, no doubt, have, in many cases, yielded rich fruit long before this.
My own mind was strongly wrought upon. A singular dream added to my seriousness. In my dream, I saw myself drowning, while a fierce-looking soldier was pointing his loaded musket at my head. Thus death threatened me from two sources. In this extremity my anguish was very great. All my gracious opportunities passed before me, but now it seemed too late for salvation. “Oh,” thought I in my sleep, “what would I give, if this were only a dream! How faithfully would I serve the Lord when I awoke.” Just at that moment I did awake, scarcely able to convince myself that the ideal scene was not an awful reality. That day I eagerly sought the missionary, and sat with serious delight listening to his instructions. Still I did not give myself up to the service of Christ. So difficult was it for me to make the requisite sacrifice of my beloved sins.
Just at this interesting crisis, a glad report of peace between England and America reached our prison. With joyful faces we assembled round the good man, when he came that day, to inquire if it was really so. While he assured us of its truth, he mildly asked “if it was peace with Heaven;” assuring us that it was a matter of the greatest importance for us to be at peace with God.
As a memento of our esteem for Mr. Thom, we made him several little presents. One of them was a hat made from a bullock’s horn. The horn was peeled into narrow slips, these were scraped, split, and braided like straw, and then sewed together. We also made him a model of a ship, fully rigged from stem to stern. The missionary received these marks of our regard with evident pleasure; and, no doubt, when looking upon them afterwards, offered many a prayer for the salvation of the prisoners, who were, for many weeks, the subjects of his anxiety and labors. Blessings rest on him, if he yet lives! Peace to his ashes, if he slumbers among the dead!
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