the thin walls, the rain came through the roofs, the
snow lay in drifts on the floor. Wood and straw were
but scantily furnished,[1] and the uniforms that had
been worn through a hard campaign in the wilderness
hung in rags on the freezing soldiers. They cut off
the tails of their coats to make patches for the rest of
their clothes. Even in the hospital it was freezing
cold. Hope and disappointment followed each other
in the breasts of the prisoners as the negotiations for
their return to England were renewed or broken off.
Once, during the year of their stay, came the hope of
a rescue, and preparations were made by the Germans
to welcome the friendly fleet, and by the Americans to
march off their captives to quarters farther inland. But
the greatest suffering, perhaps, of the prisoners was the
monotony of their confinement. There was nothing
to do, for a little drilling without guns can hardly be
called an occupation. We recognize in the journals
and letters of the officers the petulance of inactivity.
There were quarrels with the American guard. In
this respect, however, the Germans fared somewhat
better than the English. The care of Riedesel to
preserve discipline among his men was recognized, and
- ↑ Wood was very scarce that winter. In October, before the arrival of the prisoners, General Heath had written to Washington: “Wood is now twelve or fourteen dollars per cord, on the wharves, and the inhabitants cannot obtain a supply at that price. So many of the coasters are taken by the enemy's cruisers, that they are become very unwilling to run the risk of falling into their hands. I submit to your Excellency the propriety and expediency of obtaining a protection from Lord Howe for such a number of vessels as may be thought necessary to supply the prisoners from the eastern country. If some such method cannot be devised, I do not at present see how it can be obtained.”—Sparks's “Correspondence,” vol. ii. p. 17.