The _Sampson_ at Chatham was evidently an ill-omened ship. It was on board her that occurred the disastrous event of May 31, 1811, when the half-starved prisoners, upon being docked of half their rations for the misdeeds of a few of their number, broke out into open mutiny, which was only quelled at the cost of six prisoners being killed and a great many wounded. On the _Sampson_, also, was fought a particularly terrible duel in 1812. Two prisoners quarrelled and determined to settle their difference quietly. So, attended only by their seconds, they betook themselves to the ordinary ship prison, which happened to be empty, and, armed with sticks to which scissor-blades had been fastened, fought. One of them received a mortal thrust in the abdomen, but, although his bowels were protruding, he continued to parry his opponent’s blows until he was exhausted. He died in spite of the surgeon’s attentions. On board the same ship in 1813, three prisoners decided to murder the master’s mate and the sergeant of marines—men universally detested for their brutal behaviour—and drew lots as to who should do it. The lot fell upon Charles Manseraux. But he had ‘compunction of conscience’ because the sergeant was a married man with a family. However, he had to kill some one, and fixed on a private of the Marines. He took the opportunity when the unfortunate man was doing duty on the fo’c’sle and drove a knife into his back. Another prisoner saw the deed done, knocked Manseraux down and secured him. Manseraux and the others were tried at the Maidstone Assizes, found guilty, and executed. Duelling and crimes of violence seem to have been rampant on certain ships more than on others. The _San Damaso_ at Portsmouth was one of these, although on the Chatham hulks the unnatural deaths were so frequent that the Coroner of Rochester in 1812 claimed special fees from the Transport Office on account of the trebling of his duties, a claim which was not granted. A very bold attempt at escape in broad daylight was made by some desperate prisoners of the _Canada_ hulk at Chatham in 1812. Beef was being hoisted on board the prison ship from a lighter alongside, on board of which were half a dozen American prisoners who were assisting in the operation. Suddenly, they cut the painter, and, helped by a stiff breeze, actually sailed off, and, although the guards on all the prison ships fired at them, would have escaped if they had not run aground off Commodore’s Hard, Gillingham. They sprang ashore here, and ran, but the mud was too much for them and they were captured.