This was a small job. After climbing the pickets, either
Littlefield or Barnet dropped on the outside, a little too carelessly, and
was overheard. The sentinel immediately called for the corporal of the
guard, but we were in the water, swimming quite near the bridge, and some
little distance from the guard-house on the main. There was a stir on the
island, while we were in the water, but we all got ashore, safe
and unseen.
We took to the same woods as before, but turned south instead of west. Our
route brought us along by the waterside, and we travelled hard all that
night. Littlefield pretended to be our guide, but we got lost, and
remained two days and nights in the woods, without food, and completely at
fault as to which way to steer. At length we ventured out into a high-way,
by open day-light, and good luck threw an old Irish seaman, who then lived
by fishing in [missing]. After a little conversation, we told this old
man we were deserters from a vessel of war, and he seemed to like us all
the better for it. He had served himself, and had a son impressed, and
seemed to like the English navy little better than we did ourselves. He
took us to a hut on the beach, and fed us with fish, potatoes, and bread,
giving us a very comfortable and hearty meal. We remained in this hut
until sunset, receiving a great deal of useful advice from the old man,
and then we left him.
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