at the war prison, in a crisis now rapidly approaching, it was destined that the young man, cecil stark, should assume sudden prominence. thousands of french and american prisoners were confined at prince town during this period; and with the latter were herded a company of coloured men who had been captured in the enemy's battleships or privateers. bitterly was this circumstance resented by the americans; but, worse than their slaves they found the presence of some seven hundred french, who shared the granite hospitality of prison no. 4. these poor tatterdemalions had added to their necessary griefs by personal folly. they had gamed away their very shoes and blankets; and they were thrust hither by the hundred, and kept alive, like cattle, with scarcely a rag to cover their nakedness.
many times the americans protested with indignation against this wrong, and implored that these forlorn french might be removed from amongst them. but months elapsed before their reasonable complaints were heard, and the baser sort of soldier guards was wont to laugh and ask the americans wherein their own fantastic and ridiculous habiliments presented a better appearance than the frenchmen's skins.
stark and certain of his companions were thus challenged on a day in autumn as they patrolled together along the exercise yard. beside him walked commodore jonathan miller, who had commanded the united states frigate marblehead when she was taken, while behind them followed one william burnham, a junior officer on the same vessel, and james knapps, sometime boatswain of the marblehead. these four men, together with three others presently to be mentioned, formed a little community of friendship, and had entered into a compact to share their means, and make common cause against the hardships that encompassed them. they were known as "the seven" and their companions held them in high esteem, for it happened that stark was among the fortunate and obtained regular advances from home. with his money he did no little good, and not the seven only, but many more who suffered from poverty or disease, had found him a willing friend.
a sentry perched before his box on the prison wall heard stark grumble to william burnham and made a jesting remark.
"don't the frenchmen's skins fit 'em as well as your clothes fit you?" he said.
whereupon burnham, a mere lad with red hair and a round freckled face, made such a fiery retort that the soldier scowled and fingered his musket.
"you ask that—you coarse-hearted lout? their skins don't fit 'em. count their ribs; look at the bones sticking out of their elbows and ankles. no prisoner's skin can fit him in this cursed country, for you starve us; your agents rob us; you strip your scarecrows to clothe us!"
they passed on, and commodore miller spoke.
"the americans are treated better elsewhere, however," he remarked. "at chatham, and at stapleton too, they receive more considerate attention. there, at least, they obtain what the british government is pleased to give them."
"and the markets shut agin us—that's consarned robbery," said james knapps. "'tis the loss of the market that angers me most past bearing."
"a very great injustice," answered miller sadly. "it cannot be known. the french are permitted to trade with the people of the country. farmers and farmers' wives are admitted into the great court and they barter regularly there. but we can only get our cheese, or butter, or eggs for our sick folk through the french, and they charge five-and-twenty per centum above the market prices."
"so we are robbed every way," said knapps. he was a powerful, middle-aged man, of genial aspect and ordinary appearance; but another american who now approached and walked beside his friends, discovered a countenance that had called for second glances in any company. he was tall, extraordinarily thin and very high-shouldered. his eyes were of the palest grey, his high cheek-bones seemed nearly thrusting through the skin. he was almost bald, and his woollen cap came down over his ears. a flat nose and a fan-shaped tuft of hair upon his chin completed the man's physiognomy; and much bitterness usually sat upon these strange features.
"what say you, leverett?" asked stark of the new-comer.
david leverett, who had been a carpenter on the marblehead, and lost one hand in the engagement which ended that vessel's career, waved his stump to the sky.
"i say 'tis small wonder that some on us enlist in the king's service, damn his eyes! it's their dirty, devilish game ter make us. they torture us and starve us and freeze us, till narry a one but would judas his own mother, if 'twas only for the sight of salt water again."
cecil stark nodded.
"that is what they mean, sure enough. another batch came up yesterday from the hector prison ship. many, they say, have gone into the king's service."
"'tis the refinement of cruelty to make a man turn against his motherland," mused miller; "yet there were a few good englishmen on the marblehead."
"then there's blazey," continued mr. leverett, who seldom opened his mouth save to utter a grievance. "call him an agent! one of the carved stone turrets we are going ter fix on the church tower would be a better agent than him. i wish i had the handling of the skunk."
"lordy! have done with your growling," said knapps. "what's the use of it? you only drive other hot-heads into the enemy's ships. i miss faces every day as it is."
"many are true enough," replied young burnham. "there's mercer and troubridge and our messmate, caleb carberry. you miss them because they are all sick in hospital."
"troubridge is dead," said cecil stark shortly; "and matthew mercer is dying. i saw the doctor this morning. he said 'twas all over with him. he's unconscious."
leverett lifted his ribs in a deep sigh.
"they are out of it. i most envy 'em. there's no escape from this cussed bowery except by way of the 'orspital."
none spoke; then upon their gloomy silence a black man burst, in the very extremity of excitement. he was a big, full-blooded negro—a splendid specimen of vigour, manhood and health. now he waved his arms and rolled his great brown eyes and advanced upon them with a clumsy saltation.
"waal, now, look at that black imp!" cried knapps. "come here, sam cuffee! what's happened to you? has anybody left you a fortune, or a pair of wings?"
"better dan dat, jimmy knapps! good tings for all ob us, please de lord. him coming, sars. ha, ha, ha! him coming!"
"who's coming?" asked leverett. "the lord? don't you think it, sam. there's no god nowadays ter keep his weather eye lifting on the likes of us."
"'tis vain to whine so, david leverett," said stark angrily. "i'm weary of your eternal grumbling. if you chose fighting for your business in life, you should expect hard knocks. you went to be carpenter in a ship of war, and——"
here a shout from burnham interrupted the speaker, for mr. cuffee had told his great news to the other officers.
"yes, sar—honour bright, sar. marse jones, de turnkey, he tell me. marse blazey—him coming to put all right dis berry day, so i done run to tell you."
"then you can call back your words, carpenter," said commodore miller. "there's a god yet—only he takes his own time—not ours."
"blazey coming!" cried knapps. "'tis most too good to be true. some on you gentlemen had best think what to say to him."
as he spoke, captain cottrell, commandant of the war prison, appeared and advanced with a guard into the midst of the patrol ground. a trumpeter blew a blast to summon the wandering throngs, and when they had crowded in a dense circle round him, the commandant raised his voice and made a statement from the midst of the bristling bayonets that hemmed him about.
"i have to inform you, gentlemen, that your agent, mr. blazey, from plymouth, will visit prison no. 4 at three o'clock of the afternoon to-day. here in public he will meet you and hear all your grievances, but there must be no private intercourse."
he departed, and the americans, with joy upon their faces, raised a cheer—not for captain cottrell, but his news. the black men, who were grouped together apart, also lifted a shout of satisfaction.
"one might think that peace was proclaimed rather than that a paid official is merely about to do his duty," said cecil stark with bitterness.
but commodore miller shook his head.
"do not even assume so much, my lad. this man—well, a sluggard in duty can never be trusted. if he discharges his task reluctantly, he may also discharge it ill."
great stir and bustle marked the next few hours. light and air were let into every dark corner; broken hammocks were patched, and each granite ward was cleansed. only the prisoners themselves remained unchanged. no power could instantly alter their thin, hungry faces or their disgraceful attire.
there came presently to cecil stark his friend and superior officer, the commodore.
"as one not quite unknown to them, they have called upon me to be spokesman," he said.
"of course, sir; you're the first man amongst us. every american knows that."
"but i've no gift of words, stark, and my nerve is not what it was. i declined the task; whereon they invited me to name a speaker likely to address this blazey with force and judgment. i come to you. i hold it to be your duty. you must not shrink from it."
cecil stark was much taken aback by this proposal.
"think better of it, sir. who am i to voice so many older and wiser men than myself?"
"i wish you to do so. we must say much in little and hold the agent's attention. be off now and collect your thoughts and set your ideas in order," said the commodore. "look to it that you justify my choice, for i shall bear the blame if you fail."
"'tis a very great responsibility, but i'll assume it, since you command, commodore. now let me meet the leaders."
after a brief conference with the prominent prisoners, stark vanished and, until the important person named reuben blazey arrived at prince town, he secluded himself with certain papers and prison orders, that he might prepare his speech.
then, towards evening, a trumpet announced the arrival of the agent; the captives drew up in a dense double line, and mr. blazey, with his staff and a guard of red-coats, appeared. he was a short, stout man, clad in plum-colour, with a face of generous purple that matched his clothes. his little black eyes shot sharp glances everywhere as he advanced, hat in hand; his clean-shaven mouth was of a coarse pattern, yet it lacked not kindliness.
"great god!" he said to a clerk at his elbow, "this is the valley of bones; and they have come to life. but, indeed, i had not dreamed there were so many."
"there are some five or six hundred of 'em, i believe," answered lieutenant mainwaring, who escorted the visitor. then he addressed the prisoners.
"now who is to speak for the rest with mr. blazey?"
stark instantly stepped forward and saluted.
"you!" exclaimed the soldier.
"yes, my comrades honour me with this grave commission."
"then be brief, young man," said blazey, "for i don't want to ride over dartmoor in the dark."
"'be brief!'" echoed stark, with fire flashing to his eye. "'be brief!' why, you——"
here with an effort and in response to the murmur of warning voices behind him, he curbed his temper and made another answer.
"our grievances can't be very briefly told, mr. reuben blazey; but i will set them out in as few words as possible. first and worst, the scum and offscouring of the french prisons are poured in upon us to our terrible discomfort. next we desire to tell you that our contractors are rogues. for five days in the week the law directs that we receive one and a half pounds of brown bread, one half-pound of beef, including bone—of which god knows we get our share—one-third of an ounce of barley and salt, one-third of an ounce of onions, and one pound of turnips. the residue of the week we have one pound of pickled fish and coals enough to cook it. these things are daily served by the contractors, and we have watched them scrimp weight cruelly to fill their pockets out of our starving bellies. upon beef days we suffer most."
"go on," said mr. blazey. he yawned, scratched under his wig, and turned to a clerk.
"you are making notes, mr. williams?"
"yes, sir—full notes."
"next," continued stark, "the printed regulations delivered to us by commandant cottrell speak explicitly of what your government has undertaken to do on our account. we are not criminals, but honest men. why do not you understand that? we are allowed each a hammock, one blanket, one horse-rug, and a bed containing four pounds of flocks. every eighteen months we are to receive one woollen cap for our heads, one yellow roundabout jacket, one pair of pantaloons, and a waistcoat such as you give your soldiers. we are further promised one shirt and one pair of shoes every nine months."
"and 'tis high time your tarnal thieves was delivered of them shoes. look at our feet!" burst out a voice from the ranks of the captives.
"silence!" cried stark. then he turned to mr. blazey.
"these things——"
"you have," interrupted the agent. "are you not attired in them, you who speak?"
"look at me!" answered stark. "regard these scarecrows behind me and say if such a pandemonium of grotesque devils ever filled human eyes outside a nightmare. heaven knows that we are thin enough, yet our yellow jackets might have been made for skeletons. look!" he stretched up his arms. "mine comes scarce below my elbows."
"you happen to be a giant," objected blazey.
"then why, in the name of god, don't you give him a giant's jacket?" roared knapps from the rear. he was silenced and stark proceeded.
"our pantaloons you can study for yourself, mr. blazey. you can note the space visible between them and our waistcoats. but the shoes are still worse. they are made of wood and rotten yarn, and these granite floors knock them to pieces in a week. i pray you see to these things. here surely are caricatures of men that would make england weep if she could see them."
"have you done with your facts, sir?" inquired the agent.
"very nearly. now there are certain offices, such as sweeping, shaving prisoners, cooking and the like, that receive payment; and those who can execute mechanic arts here may daily earn sixpence. why are not our humbler folk allowed to share these privileges? the french receive all these offices, though the americans are quite as deft as they. there is also the vital matter of the market. the french traffic weekly with the country people and so add fresh food to their store; we are not permitted to do so—a cruel embargo. to sum up, i pray for more food, more clothes, more generosity. we are men against whom the authorities can find no real fault. our cachot is always empty. i was the last that occupied it. our guards will tell you that we are courteous, obedient, and patient. then pray, mr. blazey, help us. you know not the awful battle we have to fight here—a battle worse ten thousand times than any between man and man. we endure such cold as you have never endured, sir; we eat such food as you have never eaten; we suffer from such prison evils in shape of loathsome diseases as you will never know. we are very sick and we daily die. how can starving men battle with the reigning horror of smallpox? how can——"
but at the word "smallpox," mr. blazey's countenance assumed a pallor under its purple and he woke from indifference to extreme activity. his little eyes wandered wildly over the great sea of faces before him. then he screamed to lieutenant mainwaring.
"is this truth that the man utters?"
the young officer took pleasure in mr. blazey's terror, and oblivious of the prisoners or their welfare, made answer—
"true enough. the atmosphere you are breathing is pure poison. half these men are infected."
it was a lie, but the agent believed it, and made an instant bolt for the entrance.
"then i should have been told. this is murder—deliberate, cold-blooded murder, and you shall smart for it! let me out for the lord's sake, before i've gulped any more of their filthy air!"
they made way and opened the gates. then, before he vanished, mr. blazey turned and bawled a word or two towards stark.
"i'll see what can be managed for ye. i'll do my best endeavours. but i've no power, and no funds neither. besides, all exchange of prisoners is stopped for this year. so you'll do wisely to bide quiet, and trust in god and the transport board, not me."
he vanished, with his clerks and the soldiers after him; and then for a moment silence, dreadful and solemn, fell upon the captives. the haggard faces that had strained upon blazey so long as he was visible, turned each to gaze into his neighbour's eyes; the gates fell to, the locks clashed, the sentries on the wall resumed their eternal tramp. some men, wrought up to a pitch of mental excitement beyond their strength to conceal, shed tears and sneaked in corners to hide them. the boys—powder-monkeys out of captured ships—broke their ranks and went off whooping to leap-frog; the negroes chattered and blubbered apart; some americans scowled and shook their fists at the blind doors; some cursed their spokesman for bungling the matter; others walked away mute, quite frozen by long suffering to a dead indifference. many fell to quarrelling among themselves, and their leaders, including commodore miller and stark, sat together and debated upon the failure of this—their forlorn hope. in the dark disappointment of the hour young burnham lifted his voice against his motherland.
"they have forgotten us!" he said. "we have lived for the states, fought and bled for them; and now we are forgot."
"nay, lad, don't think it," said miller. "your heart is low and time drags into a daily eternity here; but remember that it flies faster outside these walls than within them. our country is busy."
"'tis that cursed agent," growled leverett to knapps. then he scratched the red-grey wedge of hair upon his chin and turned to stark.
"i asked blazey as he came in whether he had got our letters and he nodded. he's in communication with both governments.
"thet 'ere man will hev the devil's toasting-fork in his guts afore he's much older," prophesied knapps. "he's a traitor."
"please providence smallpox will clutch the swine; then an honester man may get his billet," said leverett.
thus they uttered folly and went stormily to their rest; but upon the morning of the next day the seven, strolling together, listened to reason and formulated a plan of action. their sick mate, caleb carberry, was this day discharged cured from hospital, and he listened to burnham, who narrated the events of the previous evening.
"we've done what we might by fair means. now it remains for us to trust to our wits and our right arms," said stark.
"the wall men have built, men can climb," declared burnham. "what say you, commodore?"
miller gazed upward at the mighty ring of the inner circumvallation, scarlet-dotted with the sentries.
"i'm with you—over—or under. at chatham eighteen brave lads escaped from the prison ship, crown prince, by cutting through the side of her. well, oak or granite, 'tis all one."
"if we no fly, we burrow berry nice, gentlemen," declared samuel cuffee.
"then 'tis our life's work from this hour to get out," said carberry. "by hook or crook we'll do it. and with a boss like commodore miller, i lay the way will come clear."
"we don't want a lot o' poppy-cock talk, i reckon," added leverett. "'tis just a secret for the seven of us—though," he added under his breath to carberry, "i'm consarned if i like to work with a slave."
caleb carberry was a thin, feeble-looking young man who had been cook's mate on the marblehead. he glanced at cuffee, to whom leverett referred, and answered aside—
"sam's all right. no smouch him. besides, mister stark have had him for a servant ever since we sailed."
but leverett shook his head.
"i don't trust no black man. i'm fearsome of him. he's always snooking around; and so like as not he'll end by busting on the show."
despite the carpenter's distrust, however, a secret and desperate determination henceforth actuated every member of the seven, sam cuffee included. what skill, energy and intrigue could do, they meant to do. miller and stark had personal friends quartered upon parole at ashburton, some fifteen miles distant, and their purpose now was to escape from prince town, enter into communication with these americans, and so win to the sea-coast and to france.
"hunger will break through a stone wall," said the commodore. "how much more may love of liberty do it!"
