A Revolutionary Story.CHAPTERI.
A littleto the west of the point where Connecticut river pours itself into Long Island Sound, lies a small, circular piece of land, called Duck Island. It is some two miles in circuit, and perhaps two miles from the shore, which here consists of the fine old town of Saybrook.
It is now about seventy years since this place was the seat of a hospital for the small-pox. At that period the kinepox, since employed to check the most fearful and formidable disease that ever afflicted mankind, was unknown. The only mitigation of small-pox was obtained by inoculation, which produced the disease in a milder form. Those who caught it by infection, or had it the natural way, to use the common phrase of that period, were always supposed to be in imminent danger of losing their lives.
The hospital of Duck island was therefore resorted to by persons who wished to be inoculated for the small-pox. The reason for selecting such a situation was, that no danger of the infection could arise when there were no inhabitants near.
The island itself was originally a barren, sandy knoll, without trees; but the proprietor, Dr. Joinly, had taken pains to cultivate and embellish it, and, at the time of which we speak, it possessed a fertile and inviting aspect. Two large and handsome buildings, with a variety of out-houses, were erected upon the island, and furnished accommodations for the patients of the hospital. The establishment had acquired great reputation, arising from the high professional standing of the proprietor, and the admirable manner in which it was conducted. Nearly a hundred patients were constantly in the hospital, which, with the necessary attendants, made the little island seem like a small city in the midst of the sea.
It might seem that an institution so benignant in its operation should find shelter even from the ravages of war; but it was not so. The revolutionary struggle commenced in 1775, and soon pervaded the whole country. The British fleet, under Lord Howe, fled from Boston in the spring of 1776, and in the course of the summer, after severe fighting, New York fell into the hands of the enemy. Long Island Sound was soon occupied by British ships of war. Thehospital on Duck Island was respected for a time,—as much, perhaps, from a fear of infection, as from sentiments of humanity. But this at last fell a victim to the ruthless spirit which animated the foe.
A British ship of war was one day passing near the island. In mere wantonness she opened her battery, and the deadly cannon shot came ploughing up the soil and rending the out-buildings of the hospital. All within the establishment was instantly converted into confusion and uproar. The sick patients leaped from their beds and fled screaming through the passages; while shot after shot now struck the houses, and, piercing them through and through, rendered the whole a scene of indescribable terror and misery. Two or three children were killed, and their blood was spattered upon the walls of the rooms where patients lay, too sick to move from their beds. Some expired from fright, while others, almost naked, and wasted to a shadow, leaped up in frenzy and went raving forth into the open air.
We need not dwell upon this fearful scene, which is only one of the common fruits of the great game of war—a game which has made Alexander and Cæsar and Napoleon so glorious. Dr. Joinly did everything in his power to calm his agitated patients, but in vain. The time of trial was, however, short; the commander of the ship of war only desired to clear out his guns, which had been loaded for some time, and when he had done this, and had some fine sport, he and his iron battery passed on. What was sport to him, however, was agony and death to others. The hospital of Duck Island was destroyed; the buildings were torn to rags by the cannon shot; several persons were killed outright, and others died of agitation and exposure. It was in vain to think of continuing the establishment, when it was exposed to occurrences like this; the patients were removed to the main land, the island was deserted, and the buildings were left to moulder into dust.
It was scenes like this, proceeding from the wanton cruelty of the British forces, that roused the American people to resistance, and united them, heart to heart, for liberty or death. The feelings which the British officers brought to this country, were composed of hatred and contempt; they hated us as rebels, and despised us as Yankees, which, in their ignorant prejudice, meant everything mean and cowardly. They made war upon us, as the sportsman pursues noxious game, which it is a pleasure not only to kill, but to worry, irritate and torment. The attack upon the hospital of Duck Island no doubt passed for a good joke among the British officers; but if so, it was a joke somewhat dearly bought, as we shall see.
The indignation of the people of Saybrook, and indeed of the people generally along the Connecticut shore, on account of the destruction of the hospital, knew no bounds. A movement was immediately made to raise a body of troops, and despatch them against the enemy, now quartered upon Long Island. A regiment was soon assembled, and Dr. Joinly was chosen as colonel. Their proceedings we shall relate inanother chapter.