For Cecil Stark a matter greater far than his own failure and the treachery that had ruined the tunnel plot centred in thoughts of John Lee and the price that he must pay. Much the American suffered before news reached him in his solitary confinement, through a friendly turnkey who knew Tom Putt. And then the prisoner heard that Grace Malherb was safe at home, and John Lee had either escaped or been drowned in attempting to do so.
As for the prisoners, like the sea after a storm, their passions slowly stilled. Once only did they break into active rage, when, upon the release of their leaders, David Leverett did not return, and a soldier confessed that he had betrayed them for two hundred pounds. Then the plot and its failure were dismissed before rumours of peace. At first these woke and died again, yet gradually a greater degree of truth characterised them, and all men felt the music of freedom and of home playing at their hearts.
But in Prince Town was witnessed the spectacle of a worthy gentleman struggling with a task somewhat beyond his strength. As Commandant of a War Prison, wherein were nearly six thousand souls, now grown turbulent and reckless at rumours of approaching liberation, Captain Short found himself involved in countless difficulties.
After the discovery and defeat of their plot, the mass of prisoners was removed and confined in Nos. 1 and 3; while, by way of comprehensive punishment for their attempt, every man was docked of one-third of his allowance for the space of ten days. Grave friction resulted from this measure, and Short\'s officers went in secret fear of a rising. To check the possibility of such a disaster, he adopted stringent methods, and continual strife between the turnkeys and prisoners was the result. Both sides displayed passion, and many a sentry, for some disrespectful word concerning Congress or the President of the United States, had his head broken.
With the severe mid-winter weather, increased sickness fell upon the War Prison, and the most popular man at Prince Town in these days was Doctor Magrath, a surgeon whose humanity, energy and skill made him the personal friend of every sufferer. He struck up an acquaintance with Cecil Stark, and, at the doctor\'s advice, the young American henceforth eschewed prison politics and threw all his weight upon the side of law, order and patience.
A partial exchange of prisoners had wakened general hopes, but when it was found that nothing more in that sort would be done, the Americans vented their annoyance by playing a thousand pranks upon authority. On one occasion a man was seen ostentatiously escaping out of a window by moonlight. When challenged he refused to answer and continued to descend a rope. The guard at Short\'s own order fired, rushed in as the figure fell heavily to the earth, and found a dummy. Unfortunately, such jests bred an evil temper, and once when certain soldiers discovered a candle burning by night and ordered its extinction, they fired a volley through the windows almost before it had been possible to comply with their demand. By a miracle no harm was done, but every prisoner knew next day how the watch had fired upon sleeping men, and the soldiery justly suffered under the lash of a thousand tongues.
William Burnham it was who suspected that the outbursts of severity probably marked British reverses at sea; and the thing became a jest, so that whenever a hard word was spoken, or a harsh punishment ordered, the Americans shouted together and cheered their country\'s successes.
Burnham, indeed, had come into distinction of late days. Despite the advice of Stark and others, who now preached patience and obedience while all waited for peace, Burnham, ever jealous of his old messmate, and glad to find himself a leader of men, stayed not to consider the manner of men he led, but stood for a factious and unruly multitude, and promised to support their fancied rights. Ira Anson joined this party also and to him as much as Burnham belonged the discredit of various ill-timed and vicious commotions. Their conduct maddened Short, and finally they led him into tribulation and themselves paid the penalty.
With the end of the year came a persistent rumour that the crew of the Marblehead was about to be exchanged, but this hoped-for circumstance did not happen, and William Burnham, with his faction, grew more desperate and more unwise. Unfortunately, they numbered secret friends among the soldiers and non-commissioned officers at the Prison, for not a few of the baser sort were disaffected against their own superiors, and at least pretended sympathy with the Americans. On the other side laboured many more sensible men, and while each heart throbbed for the news so long withheld, law and order were re-established, and the schools, arranged for the young and ignorant, were opened again. For two years these institutions had done valuable work; it was only after the failure of the great plot to burrow out of the Prison that they became neglected.
There fell a memorable day at the year\'s end when news reached Prince Town that the Commissioners at Ghent had signed the Treaty of peace and that the sloop-of-war, Favourite, would sail immediately with the document to the United States. This occasion was seized for widespread rejoicings within the Prison, and Captain Short felt as thankful at heart as any of his charges. But while the day of thanksgiving drew to its close, the tumult in the prisons drew deafening; great masses of men stampeded from yard to yard; a mad spirit animated reckless thousands; the air grew heavily charged with human passion; and danger threatened in many shapes.
Burnham\'s party had obtained a quantity of gunpowder unknown to their guards, and with this they manufactured bombs which exploded with reports like cannon. Alarming rumours followed these discharges; some said efforts were being made to blow down the walls; many junior officers approached Commandant Short with fear upon their faces.
At midday a pennant was seen to flutter out above each division of the Prison, and on No. 3, styled "The Commodore," a huge white flag broke and revealed a legend printed upon it. "Free Trade and Sailors\' Rights." A salute of seventeen bombs accompanied this display and the riot became deafening. Far distant upon the Moor many a traveller heard the sound, as of remote thunders grumbling under the horizon, and hastened upon his journey in dread of approaching tempest.
At the Prison, as the flags flew out, and the multitudes roared, Cecil Stark approached Burnham and prayed him to consider his position.
"You are doing a mad thing," he said. "You know as well as I that while a spark of reason lurked in efforts to escape authority, I was eager as any man. Ay, and beyond reason too, for, looking back, I see that the tunnel plot was folly. But now, to what purpose is this frantic nonsense? We shall be free men in three months. Then why make vexatious friction and lend the weight of your support to so much brainless folly?"
Burnham had been drinking and he answered fiercely.
"Cease your preaching! I calculate things are just about cooked now; and they\'ll have to be eaten. We know you, at any rate—ever ready to make trouble when you had no temptation to do otherwise. But now—you\'re an Englishman in disguise!"
"If you were not drunk, I\'d thrash you before your bullies, for that insult."
"Threats—threats and big words. We know you, I say; we see through you. A place-seeker, who tried to lead that he might gratify his own cursed vanity. Now you are a pious prig and teach in the school and say your prayers, I dare say! Much good your leadership did—you with big patriotic words on your lips and an English girl in your mean heart!"
"Leave that, or I\'ll——"
"Do it—do it! D\'you think I fear you? I\'m leader now—leader of braver men than ever listened to you. Touch me, and a hundred men will break every bone in your body! A Yankee—you! I\............