Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the MastCooper, James Fenimore
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Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the Mast
Cooper, James Fenimore
Myers, Ned, approximately 1793-1849; Seafaring life
I never gave up the hope of escaping, and the excitement of the hope was
beneficial to both body and mind. We were too well watched, however, and
conversation at night was even forbidden. Most of the officers were gone
and this threw me pretty much on my own resources. I have forgotten to say
that Lemuel Bryant, the man who fell at the breech of my gun, at Little
York, and whom I afterwards hauled into the Scourge's boat, got off, very
early after our arrival at Halifax. He made two that got quite clear,
instead of the one I have already mentioned. Bryant's escape was so
clever, as to deserve notice.
One day a party of some thirty soldiers was called out for exchange, under
a capitulation. Among the names was that of Lemuel Bryant, but the man
happened to be dead. Our Bryant had found this out, beforehand, and he
rigged himself soldier-fashion, and answered to the name. It is probable
he ascertained the fact, by means of some relationship, which brought him
in contact with the soldier previously to his death. He met with no
difficulty, and I have never seen him since. I have heard he is still
living, and that he receives a pension for the hurt he received at York.
Well does he deserve it, for no man ever had a narrower chance for
his life.
Nothing new, worthy of notice, occurred for several months, until one
evening in March, 1815, we heard a great rejoicing in Halifax; and,
presently, a turnkey appeared on the walls, and called out that England
and America had made peace! We gave three cheers, and passed the night
happy enough. We had a bit of a row with the turnkeys about locking us in
again, for we were fierce for liberty; but we were forced to submit for
another night.
Chapter X.
The following morning, eight of the names that stood first on the
prison-roll were called off, to know if the men would consent to work a
liberated Swedish brig to New York. I was one of the eight, as was Jack
Mallet and Barnet. Wilcox, one of those who had gone with us to Bermuda,
had died, and the rest were left on the island. I never fell in with
Leonard Lewis, Littlefield, or any of the rest of those chaps, after I
quitted the prison. Lewis, I think, could not have lived long; and as for
Littlefield, I heard of him, afterwards, as belonging to the
Washington 74.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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