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A journal, of a young man of Massachusetts, late a surgeon on board an American privateer, who was captured at sea by the British in May, eighteen hundred and thirteen and was confined first, at Melville Island, Halifax, then at Chatham, in England, and last at Dartmoor prison : $b Interspersed with observations, anecdotes and remarks, tending to illustrate the moral and political characters of three nations. To which is added, a correct engraving of Dartmoor prison, representing the massacre ofWaterhouse, Benjamin

History

A journal, of a young man of Massachusetts, late a surgeon on board an American privateer, who was captured at sea by the British in May, eighteen hundred and thirteen and was confined first, at Melville Island, Halifax, then at Chatham, in England, and last at Dartmoor prison : $b Interspersed with observations, anecdotes and remarks, tending to illustrate the moral and political characters of three nations. To which is added, a correct engraving of Dartmoor prison, representing the massacre of

Waterhouse, Benjamin

Dartmoor Prison; United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Prisoners and prisons

In confirmation of this nautical curse, she met with a series of
disasters during the war, which were not attributed to ill management,
but to ill luck. Thus, one time she was coming up the harbor of
Boston, from a cruise, where she lost spar after spar, and topmast
after topmast; and when in full sight or the town, and not much wind,
over board went her fore-top-mast, and several men were drowned in
their fall from the rigging. This was not attributed to lack of
judgment, but to ill luck. When this ill-omened ship lay in Boston
harbor, previous to her last and fatal cruise, she could not get men;
and that from the impression on the minds of sailors, that _she was an
unlucky ship_. This operated to her final misfortune; for her crew was
made up of every thing that offered. Her captain was a stranger to his
crew, and to his officers; his first lieutenant lay at the point of
death when she sailed; her motley crew mutinied, on account of their
pay, before they weighed anchor; her brave, I had like to have said
rash commander, sailed out in a great hurry; her cables were not quite
stowed away, nor other things arranged in their places, when she bore
down on the cool and orderly Shannon; and to crown all, her intrepid
commander, a man six feet two inches, went into action within half
pistol shot, in full uniform, as if he defied the power of the
British musketry. I have conversed with some of her officers and men
in my captivity, and think that I am warranted in saying, that there
was much more high-toned bravery exhibited on that day, than good
conduct.--The sailors, however, think differently; they all attribute
it to that unavoidable fatality which forever adheres, like pitch, to
an _unlucky_ ship. O, my country!

    "It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
    Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
    That sunk so low that sacred head of thine!"
                                                     MILTON'S LYCIDAS.




CHAPTER II.


_August 30th._--Drafts continue to be made from this ship to be sent
off to Dartmoor Prison. There are but few of us remaining, and we are
every day in expectation of removal. All go off with evident
reluctance, from an apprehension that the change will be for the
worse. It is the "untried scene," that fills us with anxiety. We are
more disposed to bear our present ills, "than fly to others which we
know not of."

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