With The Flag In The Channel

CHAPTER XVII
FREEDOM

That Dr. Franklin had been much concerned in regard to the treatment accorded to Captain Conyngham by the British authorities is proved by the letters and correspondence that passed between him and Conyngham’s friends. Let us look at these letters for a moment and we shall see that these friends were not idle. Here are the authentic copies of a portion of the correspondence.

Jonathan Nesbit, the nephew of Mr. James Nesbit, of Philadelphia, was yet in Europe, living for the time at L’Orient, and in September he wrote to Dr. Franklin as follows:

“L’Orient, Sept. 22, 1779.

“Sir: By the brig Retaliation, Captain Kolloch, which left Philadelphia the 10th August, I have received letters informing me that Captain G. Conyngham, late commander of the cutter Revenge, had the misfortune to be taken last spring by the Galatea and sent into New York, from whence he had been sent to England with a design to have him tried for piracy. They pretend to say that he took the Harwich packet without having any commission, which your Excellency must know to be false – as I believe you were in Paris at the time that his commission and orders were delivered him. The commission under which he acted as captain of the Revenge is dated, I apprehend, after the taking of the Harwich packet. It is on this circumstance, no doubt, that the charge of piracy is founded. His first commission was taken from him in Dunkirk after he was put in jail and sent up to Paris, and I think was lodged in the hands of M. Comte de Vergennes. I have to request that your Excellency will do everything in your power to prevent the poor fellow from suffering. Considering the smallness of his vessel and the difficulty he labored under when he first left France, he has done a great deal for the service of his country. He has done so much harm to the enemy that he can expect no mercy at their hands, and if they can find any pretense whatever, they will certainly destroy him. Captain Kolloch informs me that he was sent home in irons. I should certainly have heard from him was he not already confined. I once more take the liberty to recommend the unhappy man’s case to your Excellency’s particular attention.

“I have the honor to be, with great respect,

“Jonathan Nesbit.”

Before this, however, Dr. Franklin had been informed of the condition of affairs, and he had written to secret friends of America in London and tried to get them to interfere in some way for the gallant captain, or at least to endeavor to mitigate the circumstances of his imprisonment. He replies to Mr. Nesbit in the following letter:

“To Mr. Nesbit

“Passy, Sept. 20 1779.

“Sir: Captain Conyngham has not been neglected. As soon as I heard of his arrival in England, I wrote to a friend to furnish him with what money he might want, and to assure him that he had never acted without a commission. I have been made to understand in answer that there is no intention to prosecute him, and that he was accordingly removed from Pendennis Castle and put among the common prisoners at Plymouth, to take his turn for exchange. The Congress, hearing of the threats to sacrifice him, put three officers in close confinement to abide his fate, and acquainted Sir George Collier with their determination, who probably wrote to the British ministers. I thank you for informing me what became of his first commission.

“I suppose I can easily recover it, to produce on occasion. Probably the date of that taken with him, being posterior to his capture of the packet, made the enemy think they had an advantage against him. But when the English Government have encouraged our sailors, entrusted with our vessels, to betray that trust, run away with the vessels, and bring them into English ports, giving such lawful prizes, it was foolish imprudence in the English commodore to talk of hanging one of our captains for taking a prize without commission.

“I have the honor to be, with great esteem, sir,

“B. Franklin.”

Rumors, and then certain assurance, soon came to Paris that a wholesale escape of American prisoners had taken place from Mill prison, and on November 23d Franklin was rejoiced to receive the following letter, dated November 18th, at Amsterdam:

“Sir: I have the pleasure to inform you that on the 3d inst., I, with about fifty of our unfortunate countrymen, broke out of Mill prison. I brought three officers with me. I came by the way of London, it being the safest. At London we met with our good friend Mr. Digges, who did everything in his power to serve one and all his countrymen that chance to fall in his way. Happy we to have such a man among the set of tyrants they have in that country! The treatment I have received is unparalleled. Iron, dungeons, hunger, the hangman’s cart, I have experienced. I shall set off from here the 19th for Dunkirk. There I shall be glad to hear from you. I shall always be ready to serve my country, and happy should I be to be able to come alongside some of those petty tyrants. I find something of the effects of my confinement. In a short time will be able to retaliate. I should at this time go out with Captain Jones or in the squadron, could I have heard from you. I should be glad to go for the Continent if a good opportunity served. In this I shall take your advice, and act accordingly.

“The cash Mr. Digges supplied me with, and some necessaries I got at Plymouth. The friend we have at Plymouth is obliged to act with the greatest caution. Mr. Redmond Conyngham, in Ireland, has ordered me some little supply through the hands of David Hartley, of London – a mortal enemy of America, by all accounts.

“From your most obedient and very humble servant,

“G. Conyngham.”

One more letter – Franklin’s answer to this one just quoted – and we have done with the correspondence.

“Passy, Nov. 22, 1779.

“Sir: It gave me great pleasure to hear of your escape out of prison, which I first learned from six of the men who broke out with you and came to France in a boat. I was then anxious lest you should be retaken, and I am very glad indeed to hear of your safe arrival at Amsterdam. I think it will be best for you to stay awhile at Dunkirk till we see what becomes of the little squadron from Holland, for which it is said the English are lying in wait with superior force. The Congress resented exceedingly the inhuman treatment you met with, and it ordered three English officers to be confined in the same manner, to abide your fate.

“There are some Frenchmen returned to Dunkirk who were put by you into one of your first prizes, which was afterward carried into England. I wish you would adjust their claims of wages, prize-money, etc., and put them in a way of getting what may be due to them.

“I write to Mr. Coffyn by this post, to supply you with necessaries. You will be as frugal as possible, money being scarce with me, and the calls upon me abundant.

“With great esteem, I have the honor, etc.,

“B. Franklin.”

Now let us return to Conyngham and follow him through the excitement of the escape that he refers to so casually.

The English officers in charge of the prison not only visited revenge upon Conyngham’s head for the clever ruse that had almost been successful, but they made most of the other American prisoners suffer also. Below ground, under the center of the western wing of Mill prison, were the “Black Holes,” or dungeons, and in the largest one of these Conyngham, with three officers of American privateers and fifty men – captured seamen – were confined. Four times a day and twice during the night was the damp and dismal apartment inspected, and yet no sooner had they all been placed inside and the heavy door locked behind them than Conyngham proposed that a meeting should be held and that they should appoint a leader who was to rule and govern them. At once the proposition was made to him, that as senior officer he should at once take the responsibility himself. At first modestly he refused, but the rest of the prisoners would hear of nothing but his acceptance, and so, wisely, the first thing he did was to appoint a committee that examined into each man’s pedigree and position in order to be assured that there were no spies among them. No suspicious persons were developed by the inquiry, and that very evening Conyngham detailed the plans for the attempted escape. Upon searching the apartment the first thing he discovered was a loose flat stone in the flooring. Upon being removed the ground was found to be soft and sandy underneath – so much so that it could be almost scooped out with the hand. Digging began that very night under Conyngham’s direction, a watchful person being placed at the door to listen to the approaching footsteps of the patrol.

Conyngham had well gauged the distance and direction that the tunnel should take to bring him out at the edge of the common outside of the prison walls. The earth as it was dug up was concealed under the mattresses, and from thence transferred to the pockets of the prisoners, who carried it out handful by handful when they were in the corridor, the privileges of the jail-yard being now denied them. During the day and when the men were not working, for they had arranged the labor and divided the time into watches of half an hour each, the stone that concealed the opening was itself hidden by one of the straw pallets.

The guards continued to be unsuspicious, and one night, late in October, the two men who were at work in the farthest end of the tunnel came quickly back announcing that they were so close to the surface that the earth was beginning to break and crumble. It was very fortunate that they had found beneath the first layer of soft sand a stratum of hard clay mixed with gravel, which required no prop or support to prevent its caving. Work now for a time was suspended, Conyngham concluding to wait for the moonlight nights, and yet to choose one when the light would not be too brilliant. The hour settled upon was when the shadow of the prison would lie heavy upon the spot where the breaking out would take place.

No better night could one imagine than that of the first Monday of November, when every one was warned to make ready for escape. Conyngham himself led the way and dug, lying on his back with the earth falling all about him, until at last he could feel the free air as his hand broke through the upper crust. In three minutes more a hole was made sufficiently large to admit of his thrusting forth his head and shoulders.

It was dangerous indeed, for should a sentry happen by any chance to be in the vicinity, not only might the discovery lead at once to the detection of the plot, but also to death by a musket-ball. No one was in sight! The deep black shadows lay heavy under the high wall, and above it towered the great roof of the prison. Beyond them rose the square watch-tower against the gray misty moonlit sky. All at once he heard a voice behind him. It was evident that if he did not take care, the very eagerness of the men to make their way out would prove their own undoing, for they had already begun jostling and shoving one another, despite the stringent orders he had given. With great difficulty he forced his way back through the hole, and there in a few earnest words impressed upon them the necessity for caution and patience. Order restored and the muttering stopped, he drew himself by sheer strength out of the hole and rose to his knees on the ground outside. One after another the men were pulled forth. All went well until the last man’s turn came. I say “man,” but in reality he was a huge overgrown boy, whose weeks of imprisonment had not appeared to have reduced his bulk, for he stuck fast in the hole and apparently could not be moved either one way or the other. If the position had not been so full of danger it might have been found amusing, but every minute’s delay increased the prospect of discovery, so they struggled to relieve the fat boy from his predicament. Three men had hold of one of his arms, when suddenly he gave a sharp cry. He once had been hurt or wounded, and in their endeavors to release him they had broken the large bone of his forearm. However, after his first outcry the poor fellow said nothing, and by dint of digging and more careful hauling they succeeded in releasing him.

By common consent they were to divide into small parties and make their way to London or the vicinity, where from their various hiding-places they were to inform a certain Mr. Digges of their arrival. It would be six hours and more before their escape would be discovered.

One by one, keeping close to the cover of the walls, they each made the shelter of a small clump of bushes, from which they reached a wood about a half mile distant, where a meeting was held to determine on their future course of action. It was a very short one, for Conyngham dominated it and impressed upon them the necessity for haste. Soon all were on the highroad, which they followed for about five miles and then broke up in small parties as had been arranged for. Strange to say, only fourteen of them, so far as could be ascertained, were ever recaptured. The fat boy escaped!

Conyngham and one of the officers were the first to reach London, where they immediately repaired to the house of Mr. Digges, who provided them with food, money, and clothing, and despite the great risk began to make preparations to assist the other men as they should arrive.

Conyngham, while walking the streets of London, had the pleasure of seeing displayed, in the window of a print-shop, a most extravagant print alleged to be his portrait, “representing him a man of gigantic stature, very broad in the shoulders, the whole person indicating great strength, with a ferocious countenance. Under the arm was a sword at least six feet long, and beneath the whole was the legend, ‘The Yankee Pirate, Conyngham, the arch-rebel. An Admirable likeness.’”

Soon a vessel was found that was sailing for Amsterdam, and on board of her Conyngham embarked in the guise of an English merchant, but before this, six of his companions had made their way to the seacoast, where they had helped themselves to a small fishing boat and arrived safely on the French coast. As soon as he reached Amsterdam he wrote the letter to Benjamin Franklin which we quoted at the beginning of this chapter.

John Paul Jones was then in the Texel, where he was having any amount of trouble with the Dutch authorities owing to the objections of the English representatives to his remaining there with his prizes. Conyngham joined him, when at last he was forced to leave, and sailed with him in the Alliance; but the captain’s misfortunes were not yet over.

CHAPTER XVIII
CONCLUSION

The Alliance put into Corunna, where Conyngham saw again representatives of the house of Roderigo, Hortalez and Company, and learned that the money received for the prizes had been forwarded to the commissioner’s agent at Paris.

Although he had been treated as an officer of the regular service by John Paul Jones, and had been summoned to attend a court-martial as such, Conyngham decided to return as soon as possible to his own country and sailed in the Experiment for Philadelphia. But most unfortunately his hard luck followed him. When but a few days on the voyage the vessel was captured by the British Admiral Edwards, and within three weeks Conyngham was back once more at Mill prison. But his treatment this time was very different from that which had been accorded him before; and though his spirit chafed at the delay and the confinement, still he was not forced to endure such bodily suffering. In prison, however, he stayed for the rest of the war, and upon his release returned to the United States.

Almost immediately he sought to have an inquiry made and an accounting rendered for his prize-money and reimbursement for his services, but owing to the condition of affairs that existed at that time it was difficult to get Congress to take any action. There was indeed but little money in the Treasury, and so he was forced to go upon a voyage in a merchant vessel, from which he returned to begin institution of his long suit against Congress for remuneration and redress. And now the tragedy of his life began. For year after year he prayed and petitioned Congress to listen to his plea. Before the matter came actually to trial, good Dr. Franklin was dead. Many witnesses could not be procured, and some of his earlier acquaintances and friends who had not behaved in good faith toward him now deserted him completely.

The missing commission would have proved his position, and the search for it became almost the business of his life. A voyage to Europe and a personal investigation of all clues failed to show any trace. It had disappeared as completely as if it had never existed – a fact which some of his enemies asserted to be the case.

In this chapter we print a facsimile of his petition to Congress, signed by himself and dated ten years after his first services were rendered. It shows how much hope he had, and yet there is a note almost of despair that rings throughout it. The claim was first submitted to Benjamin Walker by Alexander Hamilton, then at the head of the Treasury, and Mr. Walker failed to perceive any proof of Captain Conyngham’s having been a regularly appointed officer in the service, and for this reason recommended that the claim be not acknowledged. But yet we find him again in 1793 petitioning Alexander Hamilton for redress. In fact, to the day of his death he attempted in every way to have his claim, that he had left to the justice of his country, adjusted and closed up.

During the quasi war with France, Conyngham commanded an armed brig named the Maria, and in the War of 1812 he again sought to go to sea, but his health prevented him taking an active part.

Conyngham died in Philadelphia, November 27, 1819, in the seventy-second year of his age, and was buried in St. Peter’s churchyard, and on his grave is an odd epitaph in the form of an acrostic built on the name “Gustavus.”

But now appears the strangest part of the whole story – one of those remarkable instances that so well prove the old adage of “facts being stranger than fiction.” It is the tragic epilogue to the play – the bitter end of the thread that runs through the whole of the relation. It does not take long to tell, and surely it speaks for itself.

Only a short time ago there appeared in the catalogue of M. Charavay, an autograph and print-seller in Paris, among hundreds of other notices, the following:

143 Hancock (John), celebre homme d’Etat américain, gouverneur du Massachusetts, signataire de la Déclaration de l’Indépendence, – Pièce signe comme président du congrès; Baltimore, 1 mars 1777, 1 p. in-fol. obl. Rare.

The connection of names and dates of course would attract the attention of any collector. It would be seen that most possibly it had something to do with Franklin’s sojourn in France. It was only the price asked for John Hancock’s signature – in fact, much less than his signature usually brought in the autograph market – ten francs. But what was the joy and surprise of its present possessor, upon opening his new purchase, to find that it was nothing more nor less than the missing commission of the Surprise! Where it had been, what has been its history since it was delivered at Versailles, how it came at last into the possession of a little print-shop, no one can tell; but that it had much to do with the foregoing story any one can see. It lies before the author as he writes, and is reproduced in these pages for the first time, that the court of public print may decide the question. That bold Gustavus Conyngham was badly treated by his country and hardly handled by Fate the reader can perceive. He had helped the cause in the way it most needed help, but, notwithstanding, unrewarded, the man who flew the flag in the Channel went broken-hearted to his grave, and now out of the past, too late, comes the authentic proof of his cause and asseverations. The world is a small one and strange things happen in it, can be the only comment.

THE END