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.