Number 4 caserne was inhabited by black prisoners, whose ruler was ‘King Dick,’ a giant six feet five inches in height, who, with a huge bearskin hat on head, and a thick club in hand, exercised regal sway, dispensing justice, and, strange to say, paying strict attention to the cleanliness of his subjects’ berths. Nor was religion neglected in No. 4, for every Sunday ‘Priest Simon’ preached, assisted by ‘Deacon John’, who had been a servant in the Duke of Kent’s household, and who at first urged that Divine Service should be modelled on that customary on British men-of-war and in distinguished English families, but was overruled by the decision of a Methodist preacher from outside. ‘King Dick’ always attended service in full state. He also kept a boxing school, and in No. 4 were also professors of dancing and music and fencing, who had many white pupils, besides theatricals twice a week, performed with ludicrous solemnity by the black men, whose penchant was for serious and tragical dramas. Other dramatic performances were given by an Irish Regular regiment from Spain, which relieved the Derby Militia garrison, in the cock-loft of No. 6 caserne, the admission thereto being 6_d._ Still, there was much hunger, and when it was rumoured that Jew clothes-merchants in the market were dealing with undue sharpness with unfortunate venders, a raid was made by the Americans upon their stalls and booths which wrought their destruction. Beasley was still a _bête noire_. His studied neglect of the interests of those whose interests were in his charge, his failure to acquaint himself by personal attention with their complaints, made him hated far more than were the British officials, excepting Shortland. One day he was tried in effigy, and sentenced to be hung and burnt. A pole was rigged from the roof of No. 7 caserne, Beasley’s effigy was hung therefrom, was cut down by a negro, taken away by the ‘Rough Alleys’, and burnt. On the same day, ‘Be you also ready’ was found painted on the wall of Shortland’s house. He said to a friend: ‘I never saw or ever read or heard of such a set of Devil-daring, God-provoking fellows, as these same Yankees. I had rather have the charge of 5,000 Frenchmen, than 500 of these sons of liberty; and yet I love the dogs better than I do the d——d frog-eaters.’ On March 20, 1815, came the Ratification of Peace, but, although this made the Americans virtually free men, much of a lamentable nature was to happen ere they practically became so. As is so often the case in tragedy, a comparatively trifling incident brought it about.