suppose of healthy and convenient ships, for the prisoner,
as well as for their own seamen.

Our situation, in the day time, was not unpleasant for prisoners of
war. Confinement is disagreeable to all men, and very irksome to us,
Yankees, who have rioted, as it were, from our infancy, in a sort of
Indian freedom. Our situation was the most unpleasant during the
night. It was the practice, every night at sun-set, to count the
prisoners as they went down below; and then the hatch-ways were all
barred down and locked, and the ladder of communication drawn up; and
every other precaution that fear inspires, adopted, to prevent our
escape, or our rising upon our prison keepers; for they never had half
the apprehension of the French as of the Americans. They said the
French were always busy in some little mechanical employment, or in
gaming, or in playing the fool; but that the Americans seemed to be on
the rack of invention to escape, or to elude some of the least
agreeable of their regulations. In a word, they cared but little for
the Frenchmen; but were in constant dread of the increasing
contrivance, and persevering efforts of us Americans. They had built
around the sides of the ship, and little above the surface of the
water, a stage, or flooring, on which the sentries walked during the
whole night, singing out, every half hour, "_all's well_." Beside
these sentries marching around the ship, they had a floating-guard in
boats, rowing around all the ships, during the live long night.
Whenever these boats rowed past a sentinel, it was his duty to
challenge them, and theirs to answer; and this was done to ascertain
whether they were French or American boats, come to _surprise_, and
carry by boarding, the Crown Prince! We used to laugh among ourselves
at this ridiculous precaution. It must be remembered, that we were
then up a small river, within thirty-two miles of _London_, and _three
thousand_ miles from our own country. However, "a burnt child dreads
the fire," and an Englishman's fears may tell him, that what once
happened, may happen again. About one hundred and fifty years ago,
viz. in 1667, the Dutch sent one of their admirals up the river
Medway, three miles above where we now lay, and singed the beard of
_John Bull_. He has never entirely got over that fright, but turns
pale and trembles ever since, at the sight, or name of a _republican_.

CHAPTER III.

Our prison ship contained a pretty well organized