"From the time the _Yarmouth_ left New York till she reached Plymouth, in a most tempestuous winter's passage, these men were kept in this loathsome dungeon. Eleven died in delirium, their wild ravings and piercing shrieks appalling their comrades, and giving them a foretaste of what they themselves might soon expect. Not even a surgeon was permitted to visit them. Arriving at Plymouth the pale, emaciated, festering men were ordered to come on deck. Not one obeyed, for they were unable to stand upright. Consequently they were hoisted up, the ceremony being grimly suggestive of the manner in which they had been treated--like merchandise. And what were they to do, now that they had been placed on deck? The light of the sun, which they had scarcely seen for fifty-three days, fell upon their weak, dilated pupils with blinding force, their limbs unable to uphold them, their frames wasted by disease and want. Seeking for support, they fell in a helpless mass, one upon the other, waiting and almost hoping for the blow that was to fall upon them next. Captain Silas Talbot was one of these prisoners.
"To send them ashore in this condition was 'impracticable,' so the British officers said, and we readily discover that this 'impracticable' served the further purpose of diverting the just indignation of the landsfolk, which surely would be aroused if they saw such brutality practised under St. George's cross. Waiting, then, until the captives could at least endure the light of day, and could walk without leaning on one another or clutching at every object for support, the officers had them moved to old Mill Prison."
This is a terrible picture of the treatment of American prisoners of war, in striking contrast to the generous conduct of Vice-Admiral the Hon. John Byron--to give him his correct title--towards Barney and his fellow-prisoners. If it is to be accepted as absolutely true, it should make Englishmen blush to read it, constituting a shameful record against us, as represented by Captain Lutwidge and his subordinates.
But is it absolutely true? This question is suggested, in the first instance, by the utter wildness of the writer's chronology with regard to the pleasing episode in connection with Admiral Byron; for it was during Joshua Barney's _first_ period of imprisonment that he came in contact with Byron, in the year 1778. It could not have been after the capture of the _Pomona_, as Byron was in the West Indies in the summer of 1779, in pursuit of the French Admiral D'Estaing, and returned thence to England, arriving on October 10th in that year--he was not employed again. Moreover, during the time of Barney's second imprisonment, at New York, there was no _Ardent_ on the Navy List: she was captured by the French on August 17th, 1779--while Barney was on his homeward voyage in the _Pomona_--and recaptured in April 1782.