Ingenious Escape from Old Mill Prison

During the Revolutionary War there were two prisons in England that confined captured enemy sailors. One was Forton Prison in Portsmouth and the other was Old Mill Prison in Plymouth.

Old Mill Prison

At the end of Part I of A Matter of Honor, protagonist Richard Cutler is taken prisoner after a raid on the English seaport of Whitehaven led by Capt. John Paul Jones (the subject of an earlier blog). Richard and several other Americans are carted off to Old Mill Prison, to presumably wait out the war before being tried and hanged as traitors or pirates. (American sailors who fell into British hands were not treated as prisoners of war until after the Battle of Yorktown.) Old Mill was a massive structure with both an inner and outer wall. Within the inner wall were Long Prison, where Americans were held, and another prison across the compound to house French captives.

Old Mill is described in part as follows:

The prison was more massive than he (Richard Cutler) had first imagined. Within the huge rectangular stone structure was another, smaller rectangle of identical construction and proportions, except that at its entrance was a wide-open wooden gate. Between the double walls was a grassy area encircling the entire inner yard. This yard was perhaps twenty feet in width to the east and west, thirty or thirty-five feet to the north and south. Near where Richard stood, between the two north walls, were two substantial stone buildings. One, Richard assumed by the guards posted at the entryway, was most likely the prison offices. The other looked to be a military barracks. Idling about in both the outer and inner yards was a large number of scruffy-looking men walking solo or in small groups.

Among those “scruffy-looking men” Richard would come to know in Old Mill are such future naval heroes (and future characters in the Cutler Family Chronicles) as Silas Talbot, Richard Dale, and Joshua Barney. Although these men and their compatriots had attempted many escapes, few had been successful. Outside the prison walls were legions of local citizens known as “Janners” who were awarded ₤5—a year’s salary for a farm hand—for every escaped prisoner they turned in to the Home Guard. A number of tunnels had been dug and an equal number had been unearthed by snooping prison guards and local militia.

The captured American officers are mulling over their wretched state of affairs one evening after a dinner of land-snail stew. Another tunnel was under construction, this one heading north rather than to the east, which afforded the shortest way out and was the direction to which every tunnel to date had been attempted. The logic of digging to the north was that prison officials would not expect a tunnel to be dug underneath where they worked all day. Thus they would not think to look for one there.

During the meeting Richard Cutler has a sudden notion. In alow but excited voice he tells his fellow inmates that the tunnel has already reached its destination even though it reaches barely beyond the inner wall. His fellow officers stare at him in bewilderment.

What happens next is perhaps best conveyed in dialogue:

“This is nonsense!” Joshua Barney scoffed. “Richard, have you taken leave of your senses? What are you suggesting? That we dig just to the Outer Yard? Hell, boy, we can walk out there any time we want, the gate’s wide open ‘till nightfall. What about the outer wall? We can’t just walk out through the main gate, pretty as we please.” 

Joshua Barney

Richard grinned at him. “Yes we can, Joshua. Yes we can. Hear me out. Silas, how often do they rotate the guards out of here?” 

“Every three months, from what we’ve observed.” 

“Exactly. And how often do they rotate the officers?” 

“Every six months.” 

“Right. So when is the next time officers and guards are rotated out together? Most of them anyway.” 

Talbot gave that some thought. It was Russell who answered. 

“The first of October, three weeks from now. 

Silas Talbot

Richard nodded. “That’s how I figure it.” His right hand was working in quick chopping motions.  

“So on October second, we’ll have a new batch of officers in our midst, plus a fresh rotation of militia guards, most of whom, we can fairly presume, will be strangers to each other. On that one day, an officer could walk in or out of this prison, pretty as you please, as you put it, Joshua, based on one credential: his uniform. Do you agree?” 

The officers stared at Richard, digesting his train of thought. 

“I think we can agree with that, Richard,” Talbot said, scratching his head. “But where are you leading us?” 

Agreen (Crabtree, a fellow midshipman and Richard’s close friend throughout the series) slapped his knee hard. 

“I know where he’s leadin’ us, Silas! Jesus Christ, it’s so obvious we should all have thought of it, long ago. He’s leadin’ us into the Prison Office, the building right between the two gates where they keep the officers’ uniforms. Our tunnel’s headin’ straight for it. Come up through the floor at night, don those uniforms, hide out ‘til dawn, then walk out early before the real officers are awake. Bugger, but I’ll look good in a lieutenant’s uniform!” 

He beamed at Richard. Richard beamed back. 

Talbot held up a hand in caution.  

“Steady on, lads. Steady on. Let’s consider this.”  

Searching for the weak links, Talbot and the other officers ran their minds down the chain of sequential steps that under Richard’s plan would take them from Long Prison under the inner wall, up into the Prison Office, and out through the main gate. They could identify none until Eleazar Johnston asked: “How many uniforms do we reckon are in there?”  

“I don’t know,” Richard confessed. “But there have to be quite a number. Every British officer is issued at least two uniforms in case one gets soiled.” 

“If we’re caught wearin’ those uniforms,” Barney pointed out, “sure as hell we’ll be hanged as spies.” 

Richard acknowledged that.  

“Perhaps, Joshua. But it’s a risk worth taking, don’t you think? Once we’re outside, we can get rid of the red dress coat. The rest of the uniform’s pretty much the same as standard Continental Navy issue.”
Barney pursed his lips reflectively.  

Capt. Richard Dale

“You’re overlooking something,” Richard Dale observed. “I grant you the sentries guarding the gate may be new, but so many officers leaving the compound so early in the morning would certainly arouse suspicion. They’d want to confirm everything with Cowdry (the prison warden) before opening the gate. Don’t forget, their ass would be on the line.” 

Discouraged agreement rumbled among the Americans. The weak link in the chain had apparently been identified. 

Crabtree snapped his fingers. 

“No, wait,” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “We’ve been thinkin’ about this wrong. We don’t all need t’ be officers. Most of us can be what we are: prisoners. We only need a couple of us in uniform. We go in the buildin’ at night, through the tunnel, just as Richard said. When we come out the next mornin’, the prisoners are bound up, bein’ led out by the officers. For further interrogation on Yarmouth we tell the guards at the gate. On orders from Admiral Digby himself, we say. What sentry, first day at his new post, facin’ the prison brass, would challenge that?” 

 “He’s right,” Russell concurred, and everyone’s mood brightened considerably.

As a footnote to history, the plan as depicted above worked. The American officers made good their escape and made their way back to sea. Most of them went on to fight the British until the end of the war.

Photo Credits: The Old Mill Prison From a 19th-century illustration [public domain]; Sketch of en:Joshua Barney circa 1800 [public domain]; Engraved portrait of Silas Talbot, the second captain of the :USS Constitution [public domain]; Captain Richard Dale, USN [public domain].

Horatio Nelson Speaks to the 21st Century?

Barbary Wars

The novels of the Cutler Family Chronicles span the years 1774 to 1815 and have, as backdrops, the creation of the U.S. Navy and the emergence of the United States as an overseas commercial power during the Age of Sail.

During the last fifteen years of this period the United States became inevitably embroiled in the Napoleonic Wars that were ravaging Europe. During America’s quasi-war with France in the late 1790s, and again during the First Barbary War in the early nineteenth century, Great Britain viewed the fledgling United States as an ally, either because we were fighting the same enemy – France – or because Britain and her overseas colonies desperately wanted to buy what America had to sell. Aside from exchanging private recognition signals with American warships and escorting American merchantmen through pirate-infested waters, the Royal Navy opened its bases in the West Indies and the Mediterranean to American naval vessels.

Admiral Horatio Nelson

The early years of the Napoleonic Wars were also the capstone years of England’s most revered naval hero: Horatio Nelson. Richard Cutler, the main protagonist in the Cutler Family Chronicles, comes to know Nelson primarily because his wife Katherine, a young woman born and raised in the shadow of English aristocracy, was once engaged to marry the dashing young post captain. Although Katherine never again sees Horatio after she weds Richard Cutler and sails to America, the two sea officers have several occasions to cross tacks with each other during the years preceding the epic sea battle off the southwest coast of Spain in 1805 that immortalized Nelson’s life. 

One such occasion (in the recently published A Call to Arms) is in November of 1803 prior to a grand fete hosted by Sir Alexander Ball, the British governor of Malta, at the island’s magnificent San Anton Palace. Adm. Horatio Lord Nelson, commander in chief of British forces in the Mediterranean, and Captain Richard Cutler, USN, are meeting in private before the gala affair begins. With them in the small but comfortably appointed room are Captain Jeremy Hardcastle, RN, Richard’s brother-n-law and Nelson’s life-long friend, and Agreen Crabtree, Richard’s first officer in USS Portsmouth. A story that Jeremy has to relate to Richard and Agreen follows an account by Agreen regarding an earlier encounter between Portsmouth and a Tripolitan corsair. After the corsair captain strikes his colors and surrenders his ship, he orders his gun crews to open fire on the American frigate as she is lowering away her boats, an act of cowardice and dishonor that kills a number of defenseless American sailors. Captain Cutler immediately orders all sail clapped on and chases after the corsair, fleeing for her life toward the safety of Tunis. Portsmouth overtakes the corsair and reduces her to matchwood.

 What Jeremy Hardcastle has to relate is historically accurate in detail, as is the gist of Nelson’s response to Agreen’s comment. (Note: also historically accurate is the treachery of the corsair captain.)

We should listen carefully to what Nelson has to say.

    “It started right here off Malta,” Jeremy explained. “For no apparent reason two Algerian corsairs attacked one of our sloops of war. The sloop managed to escape into Grand Harbor, and a frigate was dispatched to hunt down the two corsairs and sink them. Which she did. The dey of Algiers, a chap named Mustapha, was so enraged he ordered British citizens in Algiers imprisoned and their property confiscated. When Horatio learned of that, he led Victory and a squadron of seven frigates from Toulon to Algiers and immediately started bombarding the city. Within an hour, the dey sent out a boat to the flagship under a white flag. Horatio paid it no mind. He kept the guns hot until the outer wall of Algiers had collapsed and fires were burning within the city. Finally, the dey had himself rowed out to the flagship, pleading to Horatio and Allah for mercy. I can’t speak for Allah, but Horatio agreed on the condition that he release British citizens from prison, restore their possessions, and compensate them for their trouble. And on the condition that Mustapha promise never again to impugn England’s honor. Thus far, he has acted the angelic school boy, bowing and scraping before a stern school master. Is that a fair summation, Horatio?”
    “I daresay it is,” Nelson responded.
    “And I daresay the dey learned a hard lesson that day,” Agreen added, setting off a round of chuckles.
    “I agree with you, Agreen,” Nelson said gravely,” and I am not trying to be witty in saying that. Mustapha learned the same lesson as your corsair captain. And those with Western minds must learn it as well: that the only thing these Arab despots seem to understand is brute force. That is the only anecdote to their tactics. They use diplomacy as either a tool to get what they want or as a delaying tactic. That is one reason I would not have an Arab in my fleet, except as a prisoner.”

Putting aside for the moment the politically correct world in which we live, had the State Department heeded Nelson’s words more diligently, would the four Americans killed during the terrorist attack on Benghazi last September be alive today?

I simply pose the question.

Who Was England’s True Enemy in 1776?

King George III 

What Americans refer to as the “Revolutionary War”, most Brits refer to as the “American War of Independence.” It may seem a fine distinction, but semantically the British are correct. A revolution normally erupts within a country with the aim of overthrowing the rulers of that country, as happened, for example, in France in 1789. On 4 July 1776, the Second Continental Congress declared America an independent nation, and the leaders of the united American states declared their country at war against their British overlords, most of whom were based three thousand miles away across the Atlantic.

No matter how you slice and dice it, however, the war was a civil war. Since the vast majority of the three million people living in the thirteen colonies in 1776 were of British descent, and no other nation had yet recognized the United States as an independent country, it was a conflict in which British citizens fought against British citizens – except, of course, when fighting the thousands of soldiers-for-hire from Hesse-Kassel, Hanover, and other German states of the Holy Roman Empire.

The moonlight Battle of Cape St Vincent    

But what really was at issue for England in this war? Who was at stake? Was it simply to punish the “rebels” for bad behavior and bring them back into the fold of the British Empire? The answer is, in a word, no. As the war in America dragged on and casualties mounted on both sides, many citizens of Great Britain and many members of Parliament became increasingly dissatisfied with the way the inept American Secretary was conducting the war. Why is that? Perhaps it was because, from their perspective, Germaine and his military cohorts were emphasizing the wrong enemy.

Battle of Bunker Hill

To illustrate the point, following is a scene from chapter eight of A Matter of Honor in which protagonist Richard Cutler is taking his daily constitutional with his uncle, William Cutler, on the grounds of the Cutler residence in Fareham, England. Richard is under what is essentially house arrest following a stint in Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, and he is confined to the not inconsequential estate of his uncle for the duration of the war. William Cutler is a prominent member of the rising merchant class in England and has amassed a tidy fortune in partnership with Richard’s father in Massachusetts. Two sugar plantations owned and operated by the Cutlers in the West Indies comprise the bulk of their family wealth. William Cutler starts out speaking.

“I’d like to pick up on a subject we broached last evening,” he said, the gravity in his voice reflecting the time he had devoted since then to clarifying his own views on the subject. “As you recall, I made several references to ‘the war’. Understandably, to you and to most people in America, ‘the war’ means ‘the revolution’. Fact is, England is currently engaged in two wars, each with an entirely separate purpose. The first war is to maintain our empire. That, sadly, involves the civil war in America. At the same time, we are fighting a second war to sustain our empire. That one is against our ancient enemy, France. At stake are the sugar islands of the West Indies -- our islands, Richard, Barbados and Tobago among them. Whoever controls those islands controls the wherewithal to wage a hundred wars. Which is why I am convinced that Spain and Holland will soon enter this war. And other countries too, all allied against us. It then will become a world war, and England will be standing alone. Mind you, these other countries will not be fighting in support of American revolutionary ideals any more than France is. Why would Louis and his chevaliers support open rebellion against a king? No, they’ll be fighting for the same reason they always do, for their own commercial self-interests, this time at the expense of Great Britain. Our navy is over-extended and we’re committing far too many resources to the civil war in America whilst paying scant attention to the real threat in the Indies. We can’t defend our islands properly and our enemies are aware of our weaknesses.” 

The Death of General Montgomery
at the Attack on Quebec    

Richard walked on, pondering what his uncle had said. He had to admit, it made sense. “How would you advise the king and his council, were you able to?” he asked.

“I am able to, and in fact I have done so through my contacts in Westminster. My advice to King George and Parliament is to seek reconciliation as quickly as possible with the former colonies.”

Richard felt his eyebrows involuntarily shoot up. 

“You’d sue for peace?  Grant America her independence?”

“If necessary, yes,” William Cutler said with conviction. “England would be far better off, in my opinion, with the United States as her ally rather than her enemy.  After all, we share a common heritage and system of beliefs. Together, there would be no stopping us. And the civil war is simply not worth the cost. Our military and exchequer are being bled dry in America whilst we put our true source of wealth and prosperity at grave risk. Many Britons agree with me, which is why you’ve found so many people sympathetic to you both here and in the West Country...”

I have to agree with Mr. Cutler, as I believe most British and American historians would today.

Photo credits: George III of the United Kingdom [public domain]; Battle of Bunker Hill by Howard Pyle [public domain]; The moonlight Battle of Cape St Vincent by Francis Holman [public domain]; The Death of General Montgomery at the Attack on Quebec, by John Trumbull, 1786 [public domain].

The Majesty of Spithead

Spithead. For centuries, the very word has conjured up mental images of British hegemony at sea for sailors and lubbers of all nations. The name derives from a spit of sand stretching south for three miles into the Solent, a strait separating the Isle of Wight from the Hampshire shore. The area that incorporates what is generally referred to as Spithead is roughly fourteen miles long and four miles wide. Spithead, where Royal Navy warships continue to this day to lie at anchor in protected waters, is often used synonymously with Portsmouth, the administrative center and the site of the world-famous Portsmouth Dockyard, to define Britain’s premier naval base.

In this relatively small body of water moves much of England’s coastal trade. It is also where the Royal Navy has maintained a naval base since the age of Richard the Lionhearted. From 1690 to 1909, Spithead was home to the Channel Fleet, an onslaught of British warships whose primary responsibility at the time of the Cutler Family Chronicles (and in prior years) was to prevent the warships of England’s enemies, particularly France, from entering the English Channel. It was also the site of a famous mutiny in 1797, during which British sailors went on strike to demand higher wages and better working conditions. Among other literary interpretations of this event by O’Brian, Forester and a host of other gifted authors, the novel Billy Budd by Herman Melville is set on ships of the Channel Fleet immediately after this mutiny was addressed by My Lords of the Admiralty.

What must have it been like for the uninitiated to encounter the majestic splendor of a Royal Navy base for the first time? Following is an excerpt from chapter two of A Matter of Honor in which Richard Cutler and his brother Will have sailed on their first cruise from Boston to England. They are aboard their family’s merchant brig Eagle on their way to visit their Uncle William Cutler and his family who live just north of Portsmouth in a town called Fareham.

His watch off duty, Richard walked forward to the larboard foremast shrouds to survey the scenery ashore. Will joined him, as did most of the ship’s crew. It was the first land they had seen in nearly four weeks, and for the older sailors aboard, it was homeland.
     “Look, Will,” said Richard, pointing abeam. “Those ruins over there on that cliff. Ancient fortresses, I suspect. Wasn’t it the Tudor kings, the Henrys, who ordered them built to protect the naval base?”
      Will did not respond. Richard continued to watch with fascination as history passed by him on either side. “There’s another one, Will, to starboard. Take a look,” he implored. Again Will did not respond. Richard turned to look at him; when he saw Will staring transfixed ahead, he gazed forward to see what his brother found so engrossing. Confused by what he saw, he decided to go to the prow for a better view. To his surprise he realized there was no room to move forward. What seemed like the entire ship’s company was standing on or near the forecastle in silent contemplation of what Eagle was now approaching. Thoroughly bewildered, Richard grasped a backstay and stepped out onto a larboard chain-wale. Leaning out, he searched ahead to where the Solent met Southampton Water between Portsmouth Harbor and the Isle of Wight. There, stretched before him as far and wide as sight would permit, was a display of naval power and glory beyond imagining, each ship looming ever more imperiously into view as Eagle glided serenely through the protected waters.
      “Spithead,” remarked a seaman, as if explanation at this point was necessary.
      It was a virtual forest of masts and spars, a basin covering a vast area filled with ships of every description and size, some bigger than Richard had ever envisioned. Bustling about among these leviathans was subservient water traffic: longboats and bumboats and water-lighters powered by sail or oars shuttling back and forth between the great ships and Portsmouth Town, bearing the officers, crew, cargo, provisions, water barrels, ordnance, and dispatches to sustain an empire. Up until now, Richard had considered his family’s brig Eagle a large vessel. He had seen larger ones of course. A Royal Navy frigate had once sailed into Hingham Bay, and a year ago in Boston his father had pointed out three ships of the line anchored in the harbor. But those vessels he had viewed from a distance and from that distance they appeared more like the toy models he and Will used to build as children. Certainly they had seemed far less formidable than the ship they were now closing on, so close that Eagle seemed in comparison a tiny water bug cruising by. Ezrah Harley identified her as the flagship of a Vice-Admiral of the Blue, pointing up at the long blue pennant fluttering self-importantly from the foremast truck. Three tiers of gun ports were closed shut on her starboard side, and a Jacob’s ladder hanging down from the waist to the waterline seemed to lead up to the Almighty Himself, in command on the quarterdeck.
      “How many ships do you think, Will?”
      “I dunno. A hundred, maybe?”
      “More like two hunderd, mate,” a seaman corrected him. “And them’s just the ones that ‘appen to be in port. Spit’s been called the ‘wooden wall of England’. Now you know why.”
      It was with a keen sense of humility that Eagle’s crew took her on a final tack through the narrow and crooked entrance of Portsmouth Harbor and dropped anchor near the commercial wharves at Gosport, at the opposite end of the harbor from the long stone buildings of Portsmouth Dockyard, a Royal Navy facility that by 1774 had become the largest industrial enterprise the world had ever known.

Photo credits: Map of Spithead and environs. Public domain; Ships at Spithead 1797. Sceptre. King George, Hudson's Bay Company. Rodney, East Indiaman. Ganges. Perseverence. General Goddard, East Indiaman; watercolour. Public domain.

High Stakes in Paris, 1778

The War of Independence was now entering its third year, and the fate of the infant republic hung on one man’s ability to bring the French in on America’s side in a formal military alliance.

Most historians agree that the Battle of Saratoga (NY) in October 1777 was a seminal event in the American Revolution. “Gentleman Johnny” Burgoyne may have been an exquisite Peer of the Realm who drank too much champagne on his campaign southward from Canada, but he commanded a sizable and seasoned army, and he was considered a competent general. That his army was defeated by a rag-tag band of rebels had sent shock-waves across the Atlantic into the courts of King George III and King Louis XVI. For perhaps the first time since the Revolution began, it occurred to the French that, sacré bleu, these American upstarts might actually win the war.

Still, serious questions lingered about how long General Washington’s army could remain a viable military threat to British land forces. Saratoga had marked the end of the fall campaign; freezing weather had since swept in upon the former colonies; in the coming months, how many Continentals would desert the harsh conditions of Valley Forge for the warmth and embrace of sweethearts and home? France had been quick to recognize America’s independence and it had already sent clandestine aid to the American patriots. But if France were to enter into a formal military alliance with the fledgling United States, that could be a game-changer.

From the first days of the revolution, it was evident to American High Command in the Continental Army and Continental Congress that the United States could not win the war without massive aid from France. What the United States desperately required were French warships in addition to French shiploads of ordnance, supplies, and money.

Benjamin Franklin, 1778

Who would Congress now call on to save the revolution? The answer was never in serious doubt. It would call on perhaps the most famous man in the world and certainly the most beloved man in France: Benjamin Franklin.

Franklin was nearly seventy when he sailed to France in 1776 as his nation’s consul in Paris. Two other Americans diplomats joined him in what passed for the American embassy in Passy, a village of the rich and famous located between Paris and the royal court at Versailles. But it was Franklin who stole the show. Silas Deane was competent enough, but the inept Arthur Lee would eventually be replaced by John Adams.

Every French man and woman of every station adored Ben Franklin. His homespun clothes and coonskin cap and down home humor captivated everyone. It was said that the number of French chateaux plus the number of ordinary French maisons that did not have an image of Franklin hanging on a wall could be counted on one hand. It was even reported that Queen Marie Antoinette carried a small silhouetted image of Franklin’s head on whatever necklace she happened to be wearing. That Franklin was fond of the ladies, and the ladies fond of him despite his advanced age and infirmities, only added to his mystique and charm. And the fact that Franklin taught himself to speak fluent French before taking the job endeared him to a nation.

Following is an excerpt taken from chapter four of A Matter of Honor. It depicts a meeting between Benjamin Franklin and Charles Gravier, Count of Vergennes and the French Foreign Minister.. Franklin was trying to persuade Vergennes to forge a formal military alliance with the United States.

Charles Gravier
Count of Vergennes

“My friends,” he said across the table to Vergennes and his three assistants, “you may be assured that the United States government appreciates all that France has done and continues to do on its behalf. Your supplies and support have maintained our army in the field. Without them, all might have been lost. As to France recognizing our independence, it is an unparalleled blessing to be applauded by free men everywhere who believe and put their trust in the ideals and principles espoused by our revolution. Even if she were to do nothing further, France has earned the eternal respect of a grateful nation.”

As one, the four French officials inclined their heads forward.

“But, gentlemen,” Franklin continued, “I must explain the realities of our situation. America can win this war against Great Britain. But to achieve victory we need armies, not just arms; ships of the line, not just frigates and dispatch vessels; field cannon, not just muskets. In short, what America requires is a nation in open alliance with her, a great nation seeking to fulfill her own destiny and claim her rightful place on the world stage.”

Vergennes nodded sympathetically.

“Well spoken, Dr. Franklin. Your words are heart-felt and inspirational. You have my promise and the promise of my king that France will continue to do everything in her power to support your revolution. Your enemy is our enemy. But as I have said, forging a military alliance between our two countries will take time.”

“We may not have that time,” Franklin responded. He gave Vergennes a hard look, his tone taking on a sudden sense of urgency blended with a hint of rebuke. “Are you aware, sir, that my fellow commissioners and I were approached yesterday by Lord Stormont?” He was referring to the British ambassador to France.

“No, sir, I am not,” said Vergennes, caution entering his voice. “Might I ask the reason for this approach?”

Franklin shrugged. “From what I understand, the British are now prepared to concede to us everything we sought before the revolution began: home rule; our own parliament making our own laws and taxes; our own prime minister. A separate country from England, in effect, bound together with her by a common heritage and love of liberty, not to mention mercantile and military interests. A very intriguing proposal, I must say. Totally unexpected.”

Vergennes shifted uneasily in his chair. “Why do you think the British are offering this?”

Franklin held up his hands exactly as Vergennes had done.

“The British want peace, it seems. More to the point, they no longer want war with America. We are speaking today of national interests, are we not? Apparently, Great Britain has come to a better realization of where her national interests might lie.”

“You would accept such an offer?” Vergennes demanded, aghast.

Franklin shrugged a second time.

“It is not for me to accept or decline any offer, sir. I am but a humble printer asked to speak on behalf of my country. Congress must decide. And Congress will act, I suspect, based on what it perceives our national interests to be. In the same way France must now act.”

Vergennes pursed his lips, his mind apparently absorbed in a chessboard on which the might of the British Empire was combined with the resources and latent power of the United States in a military and mercantile alliance that would checkmate Britain’s ancient enemy, France.

“Thank you for sharing this information with me, Doctor,” Vergennes said, unable to conceal an edge to his voice. “Be assured, I will use it to our mutual advantage. In the meantime, may I beg your indulgence in keeping this overture confidential?”

“I shall try, sir. But I cannot guarantee results. As I have said many times, three men may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

As it turned out, the overture from Lord Stormont was real, and Franklin used it to his maximum advantage. Soon thereafter, France entered into a formal military alliance with the United States and the war was won. Had Franklin failed in his mission, many Americans today might still be speaking with a British accent.

Photo Credits: 

1. USPOD 13-cent American Bicentennial stamp issued in 1977 for the 200th anniversary of the surrender of General John Burgoyne (1723-1792) (British commander} to General Horatio Gates (1726–1806) (US commander) at Saratoga.

by Serjmooradian at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons.

2. Benjamin Franklin by Joseph-Siffred Duplessis [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

3. Charles Gravier Count of Vergennes and French Ambassador, in Turkish Attire; oil on canvas By Antoine de Favray (Pera Museum) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Royal Navy Prisons and Prison Ships

Throughout history, man’s inhumanity to man has perhaps best been exemplified by the brutal conditions to which prisoners of war have too often been subjected. Whether due to physical torture or psychological terror, the end result for many prisoners has been either death or a survival that would make death seem a better alternative.

Interior of the HMS Jersey

Few places in history have harbored worse conditions for prisoners than did New York during the Revolutionary War. Since New York served as the principle British base in North America during the conflict, it was here that the most gut-wrenching atrocities were perpetrated. This is not to suggest that Americans were saintly in their treatment of British prisoners of war. It is simply to say that the historical record on the British side is far more revealing.

The principle reason why the British treated American prisoners so poorly is because they did not recognize captured Americans as prisoners of war. Since to their minds the revolution was a traitorous act, American rebels captured by the British deserved to die a traitor’s death. What happened to these individuals as a consequence of falling into British hands was of no great concern to either the British military or British citizenry.   

HMS Jersey

British prisons in America were mostly in old decrepit ships known as “prison hulks,” the worst of which was HMS Jersey, a former 60-gun fourth rate ship of the line that was dismantled at the start of the war. Save for a fortunate few who managed to escape its clutches, being sentenced to this horrific hulk of oak was tantamount to a death sentence. Stripped of its spas and rigging and lower decks, Jersey was anchored in Wallabout Bay (later to become the site of the Brooklyn Navy Yard). Once hauled aboard, captured American sailors and soldiers were shoved below into a black hole of purposeful neglect and untold misery. On average, eight American prisoners died each day in Jersey, their bodies picked up each morning by a boat and taken ashore to the mud flats for a quick and unceremonial burial.

During the course of the rebellion, 11,500 men and woman died aboard these prison hulks, more than twice the number of Americans who died in every battle of the Revolution combined. On one prison hulk, the Whitby, desperate prisoners set the ship ablaze, preferring a quick death by fire to a slow and painful death by starvation.

In England, American prisoners were treated somewhat better, in large part because they normally shared a compound with French prisoners. Great Britain was also at war with France at the time, and captured French military personnel were awarded prisoner of war status. One such prison is profiled in A Matter of Honor, Volume I of the Cutler Family Chronicles. The compound is Old Mill Prison in Falmouth, England, and it is here that protagonist Richard Cutler is incarcerated following his capture during the raid on Whitehaven. (See a previous blog, Raid on Whitehaven.) In Old Mill he meets fellow prisoners and future naval heroes Silas Talbot, the second captain of USS Constitution, with whom Richard serves briefly in The Power and the Glory (published October 2011 by the Naval Institute Press), and Richard Dale, commodore of the first Mediterranean squadron in A Call To Arms (to be published in October 2012). Following is an excerpt from chapter seven:

“Diversions from soul-dulling drudgery were created by bored men and mandated by their morose conditions. Whittling had become a popular past-time, an activity encouraged by wardens who ensured that ample supplies of wood were made available around the inner yard. They even gave prisoners, upon request, small knives with blunted tips to use for whittling. Such curios as model ships, ladles, and makeshift mallets were sculpted from wood and sold to local citizens visiting Old Mill on Sunday afternoons. Whatever coins the prisoners received was more often than not snapped up by other locals hawking their wares in every corner of the compound. Barter was also a mainstay of commerce. In exchange for a toy pistol Richard had fashioned from a slab of oak, an elderly woman agreed to post a letter he had written to his family in Hingham [Massachusetts], telling them simply where he was and that he was in good health. She was a kind and caring woman, for she had paid good money for an object that any discerning eye would agree was a poor replica of a pistol. Richard felt certain she would actually post the letter; whether it would ever reach Hingham was another matter.”

   

Not much to write home about, perhaps, but one has a hard time imagining local citizens and merchants of New York fancying a row out to the prison ship Jersey on a summer Sunday afternoon, to buy or sell anything.. 

Terror in Whitehaven, 1778

Attack on Whitehaven
painting by Col. Charles Waterhouse

In the 1770's the town of Whitehaven was one of England's busiest seaports. Located near the shores of the Irish Sea, it looked out upon the Solway Firth that comprised the westernmost boundary between England and Scotland. Because Whitehaven was near where John Paul Jones was born and raised in the Scottish Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, it was where Jones decided to launch his one-ship invasion of England. Although this raid was strongly opposed by most of his officer corps, especially by First Lieutenant Thomas Simpson, it was sanctioned by a host of American dignitaries, including America's emissary in Paris, Benjamin Franklin.

John Paul Jones monument
in Whitehaven

Just after midnight on April 23, 1778, Jones ordered two ship's boats lowered away from the weather deck of the Continental sloop of war Ranger. Thirty sailors and Marines clambered down into the boats. Jones objectives: to first spike the guns of the English fort protecting the entrance to the harbor and the firth, and then to set fire to the three hundred or so vessels nested together at anchor in the harbor -- most of them either coastal merchantmen or coal transports. If the fires spread to the town, so much the better. Jones had no military objectives. Whitehaven held no strategic importance to him or to anyone else. It was simply a town that Jones had sailed in and out of many times in his boyhood, and it was here that he proposed to strike fear and panic among the citizens of Whitehaven – and by extension, among the entire British nation.

Despite a prolonged row ashore caused by shifting winds and a strong ebb tide, Jones realized his first objective. During the first inklings of dawn, he and his captain of Marines, Lt. Wallingford, entered the lightly garrisoned fort and spiked its cannon, temporarily disabling them. Jones, however, failed to realize his second objective, in part because the lanterns in both boats ran out of fuel sufficient to light a conflagration, and in part because a member of his raiding party, an Irishman, slipped away as dawn approached and ran along a harbor street of Whitehaven shouting out a Paul Revere-style warning. Only a single vessel, the collier Thompson, was set aflame, and the domino effect of one burning mast collapsing onto another mast did not materialize. Meanwhile, a fire alarm was sounded, Whitehaven's fire-fighting equipment was mobilized, and large numbers of townsfolk came running to the quays dressed in nightclothes and brandishing family weapons. Jones was forced to retreat to his two boats and back to Ranger, which he did without incident under the silence of the fort's spiked cannon.

We Americans do not like to think of ourselves as perpetrating any overt act of terrorism at any time in our history. But the raid on Whitehaven was one such act. As stated above, it had no military objective, other than perhaps to draw ships of the Royal Navy away from the Channel in pursuit of Ranger. Its primary purpose was to spread panic among British citizenry and it succeeded in doing just that. Britons were not accustomed to having their country invaded, even by a single ship, and few people living long the coast could rest easily at night knowing that ship was prowling offshore, ready, willing and able to strike again. As Midshipman Richard Cutler responds to Captain Jones in Ranger's after cabin when asked for his opinion of the proposed raid in A Matter of Honor, "It's a bold plan, Captain, because it does not rely on success. American Marines landing on British soil will have its effect, no matter the outcome." As it turned out, he was right.