Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/601

The image of disgrace we've hanged,
And wish it was quite true
That Beasley had himself been there,
And the devil burnt his Jew.

For both contrived to wrong us much,
And they knew it very well;
They'll always have the prisoners' prayer
To send them both to hell.

On April 6 occurred the dreadful affair which Americans call the "Massacre of Dartmoor."

During the afternoon of this day Captain Shortland discovered a hole in the wall that separated the barrack-yard from prisons 6 and 7. The Americans said that some boys who had been powder-monkeys on the ships had done this in mischief, and with no idea of escape. Captain Shortland immediately posted troops on all the walls, ordered the alarm-bells rung, and the general assembly beat. The prisoners swarmed out of the prisons to see what the trouble was, and hurried to the gates. The officers and guard, thoroughly frightened, and thinking this was the dreaded general uprising, ordered them to fall back and disperse. This was only answered by a further rush to the gates, and the order to fire was given, whether by Captain Shortland or some panic-stricken subaltern was never known. The carnage among this crowded mass of men was awful. A charge was made for the prisoners; many were crushed and trampled underfoot, and many were bayoneted by the now infuriated soldiers. One young American—a midshipman named Greenough, of Virginia, a lad of fifteen—acted with great courage and coolness. He jumped in front of the mob, and, hat in hand, begged the governor to give the order to cease fire, as it was all a mistake; but a bayonet-thrust was his answer, and he fell badly wounded. The men were then driven to their prisons, and Dr. MacGrath hastened to the yards with his assistants, and rendered every aid to the dying and wounded. The result of this awful affair was seven killed outright and fifty-six wounded.

Mr. Ingraham, an agent of the United States, soon arrived at the prison, and took with him a number of seamen to man United States ships in neutral harbors of Europe. On April 12, 1815, Captain Shortland told the prisoners that the discharges were made out.

The outgoing drafts were mustered in the yard, many being in rags and without shoes. They returned to Plymouth under a strong guard, and embarked on cartel-ships for the home and freedom that through the many years of exile they had so longed for.

The old war prison was allowed to crumble away until 1850, where on its site, and utilizing part of it, the present great convict-prison of Dartmoor stands. The prisoners of to-day pass under the old war-prison gateway, with "Parcere subjectis" cut into its capstone: "To spare the conquered."

In the American Cemetery in Prince Town there lie to-day long lines of our silent dead in unknown and unmarked graves. The only stone that marks their resting-place was erected by Captain Stopforth, the Governor of Dartmoor in 1865. It is a simple granite shaft, and on it is the following inscription: "In memory of the American prisoners of war who died in Dartmoor Prison between the years 1812 and 1815, and lie buried here. 'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.'" It may be sweet and fit- ting to die for one's country amid the heat of glorious strife, to see with glazing eyes the flag still floating, to hear the cheers of victory; but these men died exiles, their closing eyes seeing only the prison walls, their last requiem the moan of the wind on lonely Dartmoor.