p40  IV.

The Journal of the Black Prince

Five men owned the new 200 ton ship that John Barry was to command. Three of them were the Willing, Morris & Co. partners, Thomas Willing and Robert and Thomas Morris. The other two were John Wharton, the ship-builder, and John Nixon, ex‑sea captain, who had turned merchant. The vessel, launched about a month before Barry finally severed his Meredith and Clymer connections, had been tentatively called the Prince Edward, but there was some dissatisfaction about the name. Nothing had been done about it, as all interests were intent upon getting her rigged for sea as quickly as possible.

Reasons for haste were given to the new master by Robert Morris. There was no telling what retaliatory measures the British Parliament might invoke in answer to the Continental Association. The new ship was destined for England, and the owners wanted nothing to interfere with their commercial plans. Given a December or early January offing, she should be able to reach her destination, discharge her cargo and clear for home before any restrictions could be laid upon American ships in British harbors. And, if she returned to Philadelphia by April, there might be a second voyage before all trade ceased. Such clear-sighted planning indicates why Willing, Morris & Co. was one of the greatest mercantile houses, not only in Philadelphia, but in the colonies.

During December many tall ships passed down the Delaware, outward bound for Great Britain and Ireland, and deep laden with cargoes of wheat, flour and lumber. Every merchant was animated with the same purpose Robert Morris had voiced — to get their shipments dumped upon British wharves  p41 before Parliament took any drastic action. Into each skipper had been instilled the necessity for haste.

As the weekly clearances appeared in the news­papers, John Barry, a dynamo of action, was putting the final touches into the outfitting of this grand new ship of his. John Nixon registered her at the Custom House on December 19. The owners had rejected the name of Prince Edward, but, harking back into English history, had bestowed upon her, instead, that same royal son's celebrated cognomen. Barry's command was the good ship Black Prince! And Nixon, in the register, described her as "a square Sterned Vessel of the Burthen of two hundred Tons or there abouts," having been "built in Philadelphia this present Year One thousand seven hundred and seventy four." The original name of Prince Edward is preserved to us solely through the pages of the day book of the ship chandler who supplied Barry with various sundries such as "7 Empty Tarr Barrels," "Rope Yard for 1 Piece Rope," and "use of Block & Fall."

Moored besides Willing, Morris & Co.'s wharf about December 20, the Black Prince began to take in cargo. Hustling dock hands streamed in endless procession, shouldering, rolling, hauling the goods from storehouse, to wharf, to deck, to hold. Gradually the great ship settled deeper and deeper into the water. One week it took until the last bag and barrel were stowed and the hatchway covers battened into place. Below decks in the Black Prince had been stored 1,246 barrel of flour, 16,203 bushels of wheat, 800 boards and 3,840 pipe and barrel staves — an enormous cargo for a 200 ton vessel.

Barry received final sailing orders from Robert Morris — his destination was Bristol, England — and, on December 28, casting off from the pier, the Black Prince stood down stream. Preceding her by a day for the same port had been the ship Elizabeth and brig Thomas. Ahead of her in the river were the ship Speedwell and snow Sam, for Liverpool; the ship Catherine, for Dublin, and the brig Charlotte, for Newry. The Black Prince's clearance, the seventh in two days for British ports, was the last one in 1774. And, as the year ended, John Barry put his pilot ashore at Cape May, and stood forth into the Atlantic, a tall, proud young man on the quarter deck, his heart singing in tune with the hum of the winter wind in the billowing  p42 expanses of canvas overhead. He commanded, said he, and there was no modesty in his statement, "the finest Ship in the first Employ of America."

Blowing weather, shot with sudden squalls and peppered with frequent rain, was Barry's portion for his first transatlantic voyage as a shipmaster. The turbulent ocean seemed set upon putting his nautical skill to severe tests. Wind and sea united in assailing him, and day after day produced gloomy, low‑hanging storm clouds to thwart the taking of observations. In a passage of a month's duration, he maintained his course one‑third of the time by dead reckoning. The rarest entries he made in his journal were "fine weather," or "clear weather." More frequently appeared "fresh gales with squally weather," and "squally with constant rain."

It is not hard to picture the new master, leaning across the table in the great cabin, making his entries in this journal. We can see him by day, in the light coming dimly through the windows opening upon the stern, and, by night, under the flickering radiance of the cabin lanterns. We can hear the creaking of his ship, feel her pitching in the heavy seas, and almost sniff the fresh salt air, as we read what he wrote more than one hundred and fifty years ago.

For the crew, as the journal shows, there was incessant activity. When not called on deck, the duty watch was kept busy at the endless tasks of weaving mats for the shrouds and knotting yarn for the rigging. Many times these duties would be interrupted by peremptory commands which sent the hands scurrying aloft to set, or reef, or hand the sails. Only once does the journal record "all sails set." That was early in the voyage, during ten hours of bra­cing weather on the afternoon and evening of January 3. The brief period concluded at night with "hard squalls with Rain," and, by early morning, the ship was bowling along under almost bare poles.

Through the constant ordeal of bad weather, the performance of the Black Prince delighted her skipper's heart. She was staunchly built and thoroughly sea‑worthy. Moreover, her new rigging and sail cloth proved of the finest quality. Nothing gave way before the winter wind blasts. There were no torn sheets to mend. No block or tackle cracked under the strain.  p43 No lines snapped or frayed because of unusual stress placed upon them. Even in the worst of the stormy days — June 19 and 20 — when hard gales were throwing the sea across the deck almost to the height of the foresail, the rigging held intact under the strain.

In his journal, Barry daily entered every incident of the voyage with painstaking detail and with a clarity of expression that demonstrated the improvement of his vocabulary, if not of his spelling, since his earlier voyages. The completeness of the record would indicate how impressed he was with the responsibility of commanding the Black Prince. By comparison, his first journals had been mere skeletons of the principal occurrences.

Throughout most of the voyage, the ship was alone on the broad Atlantic. She had parted off the capes with the vessels that had dropped down the river with her. Once, on January 14, a sail was sighted to windward, but did not come within speaking distance. Eight days later, on the morning of January 22, an east-bound brig appeared to starboard and their ways converged until, from the quarter-deck, Barry hailed her. She was the Charlotte, which had cleared for Newry the same day the Black Prince had sailed.

"Spoke abrige from Philada Capt. McGumrey [Montgomery]," he wrote in the journal, "But Could not understand What he Sayed it Blowing hard."

By then the Black Prince was rounding Ireland, but on a course that would carry her into the mouth of St. George's Channel without sighting Cape Clear or other landmarks on the south Irish coast. By the afternoon of January 23, the crew had the anchors on the gunwale, in expectation of making port within a day or two, but the sea was not yet through giving Barry a taste of its vagaries. That night came on another of those seemingly endless "hard gals with Rain." By morning, with all sails double reefed, he was forced to wear ship, and, in the afternoon, "with a great Sea Running," he wore again. At dawn of January 25, he finally got back on his course, and, in the evening of January 26, sounded in fifty fathoms. "pebel stone and schalap shells and mud" were recovered as bottom specimens. The weather was hazy, the wind still blowing in fitful  p44 gales. Consequently visibility was poor. A lookout picked up the land the next afternoon — the Island of Lundy, in the mouth of the Bristol Channel, "Berring S Et Dist 3 or 4 Leagus."

Standing up the channel under top sails, stay sails and jib, the Black Prince came abreast of the village of Ilfracombe about dusk, and lay to until Saturday morning, when Barry "got apilot on board." With "Light Breezes and flattry" weather, they sild along the shore all that day, taking on a river pilot after dark. By this time the weather had decided it would be "flattry" no longer. In the great cabin, at dawn of January 29, Barry made a journal entry which explains what happened; "hard gals with Constant Rain a standing off and on the English Shorr All Night under Closs Reeft top Sails."

The unpleasant voyage was nearing an end. That day they negotiated the shoals which marked the narrowing of the channel, and, in the late afternoon, anchored with the best bower in fifteen fathoms in King's road, at the mouth of the River Avon. All of January 30 was spent at the anchorage, eight hands with one of the pilots, "in a pill Boat," being busy for a time mooring the ship with the small bower anchor. For the balance of the day, the "people Empd in serving the Cabbels and Clering the Decks and several other Neccassery about the sails and Rigging." On the afternoon of the last day of January, Barry ordered the ship unmoored and the river pilot took her up the Avon to come to final anchorage in the stream off Bristol that night. Barry's first transatlantic passage in the Black Prince had consumed thirty‑one days.

* * *

From the deck at dawn of Wednesday, February 1, 1775, John Barry gazed upon Bristol, ancient mart of British trade, nestling in its narrow valley between the steep English hills. Perhaps, during younger days, he had been ashore in the densely populated, dirty little city. Even so, it had been more than a dozen years before and Bristol, to the eyes of a shipmaster, would be different from the Bristol as seen by a youthful seaman. He may have promised himself some sight-seeing later, but, as he was rowed ashore in the long boat early that morning, it was to report his arrival at the Customs, seek out the merchants to whom his cargo was consigned, and make arrangements  p45 both for unloading and for ballast for his return voyage.

Alas for hopes of an expeditious transaction of business and a quick departure. No berth along the quay would be available until the end of the week, but lighters would be sent alongside to take off the flour. News of the Continental Association had already been received, probably by the ship Elizabeth, Captain Shroudy, which had sailed from Philadelphia a day ahead of him. The Bristol merchants were not unused to non‑export threats from America — these had been frequent enough for a half-dozen years — and probably, at that time, did not take the association seriously. As there was little profit to them if they could not provide a return cargo of Bristol manufactures, they showed no enthusiasm in facilitating a supply of ballast. To make matters worse, Captain Shroudy's ship broke adrift the next afternoon and brought up against the stern of the Black Prince, carrying away the latter's quarter rail and cabin windows.

Despite this mishap, considerable progress was made for several days in transferring the barreled flour from the hold to the decks of four lighters. Finally, on Sunday morning, Barry was able to move from the stream to berth No. 9 along the Bristol quay. Unloading the wheat began next morning, but at no great speed — 320 bushels that day; 1,548, Tuesday; 1,000, Wednesday; 1,704, Thursday; 1,000, Friday, and 1,200, Saturday — a week to remove approximately one‑third of the total wheat on board.

Small wonder that Barry left matters in the hands of his mate and took coach that Saturday for Bath. Over the weekend, at least, the young shipmaster would forget worries and mingle with the British aristocracy in the fashionable atmosphere of the hot wells at that famous resort. He was back again on Monday morning, February 13, where he found he could now fret, not only about removing the wheat, but about receiving his ballast. The journal, in really restrained tones, tells of the snail-like progress. The wheat continued to be taken out at an average of about 1,000 bushels a day, and the ballast came on board from an occasional lighter to the amount of sixteen to twenty tons at a time, but not daily. The last of the cargo — the boards and staves — was landed on the quay on February  p46 22, but by that time he had only 140 tons of ballast, and he needed 300 tons. Not until March 1 did he complete his requirements.

As he had been getting provisions on board for the past week, there was no further delay in casting off from the quay early in the morning of March 2, and, with a breeze at southward, standing down the river to King's road. There the wind turned contrary, forcing the Black Prince and many other outward-bound merchantmen to come to anchor. For eleven days Barry was windbound in the roadstead. As a climax, on March 12, the snow Pembroke drove foul of the Black Prince and carried away her jib boom. At dawn of March 14, with a favorable breeze at south-southeast, the whole merchant fleet finally got underway. All sail set, the Black Prince ploughed down the channel. John Barry never wanted to see Bristol again, and, as it happens, he never did.

In the main the return voyage was un­event­ful. Barry dropped the pilot at Ilfracombe on the morning of March 15, and, twenty-four hours later, he had left the Island of Lundy four leagues to the eastward. His course was generally southwest, with the ship Elizabeth astern, but dropping farther and farther behind until, by the afternoon of March 17, she was below the horizon. He passed from Saint George's Channel into the Atlantic on March 19, and, speaking or sighting occasional vessels, sailed along with favorable weather until, eleven days later, a lookout picked up Corvo Flora island, northernmost of the Azores group.

Barry had no intention of calling at the Azores. Corvo Flora was kept off the port bow during most of that day, March 30, but he approached no nearer than to within four leagues. As the island faded astern, he changed his course to about due west and the Black Prince, under a good press of canvas, began the second leg of her homeward passage.

For several days the weather was clear and "inclinable to Calm," but, in the early hours of April 3, fresh gales struck them, and by noon they were bucking a "heavy tumiling [tumbling] sea from the Wt Ward." From then on "hard gales" appeared daily in the journal, with the ship making slow headway and the horizon tumultuous with thunder and jagged with lightning. At midnight on April 11 the maintopsail sheet bitts  p47 gave way — the first mishap of this sort — and the flapping maintopsail split in the wind. An hour later the foretopsail ripped in the same manner. Before daybreak repairs had been made. Several days passed with no observations possible. Close reefed, decks swept with heavy seas, the Black Prince worried slowly along, working toward the American coast, but easing off constantly to the southward, until, at noon on April 16, she was in latitude 34° 44′, to the northeastward of Bermuda, but far to the southeast of the Delaware.

In the ensuing two days of fine weather, she logged a total of 350 miles, but, on the morning of April 19, ran into more fresh gales with a "Verrey hvy Dangrous sea Running." Bad weather continued for twenty-four hours, to be succeeded by favorable breezes which wafted the ship along on her northwestward course. She was rapidly approaching home as was demonstrated, when, in the early morning of April 21, Barry "spock the brig Globe Capt Smith from philadelphia bound to Lisbon out 2 Days."

Shortly after midnight on April 22, the Black Prince came within soundings — yellow sand beneath thirty‑six fathoms of water. At noon Barry spoke a pilot boat and a few hours later got his own pilot on board, one Ralph Clark, who took the ship through the Cape May channel before dark. Foggy weather forced an eighteen-hour anchorage in the Narrows, just above the cape. Then, with a light breeze at southwest, they sailed easily along, mooring the next night of April 23 in the bight of New Castle; the next night, above Chester in the stream, and, on Tuesday, April 25, "at meridian anchored at philadelphia Worph with the Stream anchor." The westward passage had taken forty‑two days.

* * *

News of Concord and Livingston had preceded the Black Prince to Philadelphia by a little more than twenty-four hours. So, when John Barry stepped ashore and repaired to Willing, Morris & Co.'s office, it was to witness an excitement which seethed from one end of the city to the other. Exultant radicals, disapproving Quakers, cantankerous Tories, cautious loyalists, and temperate Whigs sensed alike that war was no longer threatening — it had arrived. The gunfire in New  p48 England was, they knew, but the beginning of armed rebellion; not an incident which might blow over as had the Boston Massacre of some years back. With the second Continental Congress on the eve of assembling, the inevitable result would be the alignment of the thirteen provinces in open revolt against their king, or, as they liked to fancy it, against their king's ministers.

Nowhere, however, did consternation reach a higher peak than among the merchants, who had been in the forefront in fomenting resistance since the days of the Stamp Tax. Upon them the affair at Lexington fell like a thunder-clap. By some fatuous reasoning, they had beguiled themselves into believing the British Crown would recede from its tactics of oppression. Now, with the die cast, they were caught unprepared; their stores and warehouses filled with goods for export, chiefly wheat and flour; many of their vessels out of port, and the new Congress likely to order immediate suspension of trade instead of abiding by the September 1 date set by Continental Association.

Historians love to describe the awakening of martial spirit in the populace, the mass meetings with impassioned orators, the companies drilling on the green, the recalcitrant Tories being mobbed in the streets, the various self-constituted committees resolving on this or that. But to John Barry was given the opportunity to witness an awakening of a different nature — the wild alarm of the merchants and the frantic efforts to retrieve their fortunes. Along the waterfront was pandemonium. Those who owned vessels were literally hurling cargoes into the holds. Those without means of shipment were offering fabulous sums for bottoms of any kind and with no takers. Millers were rushing flour into the city and many mills were selling wheat without grinding. Anything that could sail was being cleared out, deep laden, for the ports of the British Isles and the West Indies.

Barry was in the vortex of this wild confusion, for Willing, Morris & Co. shared in the general panic. Their stakes, in fact, were greater than those of other merchants, but, because they had planned fairly well, they had the vessels available to ship their goods. One of these was the Black Prince, whose master found no time to indulge in heroics with the general populace.  p49 Robert Morris had given Barry instructions the moment he had dropped in.

"Discharge your ballast and take in cargo as rapidly as we can supply it," was his dictum. "You're sailing for London at the earliest possible moment."

And so, barring a few moments with the editor of the Pennsylvania Gazette, who wanted what news the captain may have gathered at Bristol, Barry concentrated on carrying out his orders. The foreign intelligence he supplied, which might have been important, had lost its significance since Lexington, but it was printed on April 26, along with other items obtained from Captain Shroudy, of the Elizabeth, whose ship had beaten the Black Prince home by twenty-four hours.

Meanwhile, at Willing, Morris & Co.'s wharf there was feverish activity. A long boat and a shallop from up river were impressed into service to bring wheat and flour alongside from other piers. At the same time five-bushel bags were disgorged from the company "stoar," to be rushed across the wharf and on to the Black Prince. In one day alone there were shipped 2,632 bushels of wheat — a striking contrast to the unloading at Bristol. Because, in his haste, Barry at times omitted the amount of the daily shipment from his journal, the exact cargo is hard to determine. Calculations mighty close to accurate place the contents of the Black Prince's hold as 9,600 bushels of wheat, 840 barrels of flour, seven casks of beeswax, and 5,600 pipe and barrel staves. While less than the cargo to Bristol, it was sizable.

There was no time for a general overhauling, nor for any repairs. Provisions were taken in piecemeal. Water butts were filled almost as an afterthought. On Sunday, May 7 — the thirteenth day since his arrival — the Black Prince cast off from the wharf and anchored that afternoon off Marcus Hook, in company with the ship Aurora, Captain Thomas Read, also bound for London, and the brig Nancy, Captain Jacob Hanse.

Barry was not on board, Robert Morris had some last hour instructions and the mate was under orders to proceed as far as New Castle and there lay to until the captain arrived. What the final mandates were we cannot say. Probably they related to a return cargo. Should it be ballast, or should an attempt  p50 be made to smuggle gunpowder? The decision was for ballast. Willing, Morris & Co. wanted its vessel back; could visualize seizure by the British government if warlike stores were found on board.

It was Monday before Barry could set off by coach for New Castle. Early Tuesday morning he boarded the Black Prince. She was already underway. That night they anchored off Reedy Island, dropped down the bay on May 10, and went out through the capes, discharging the pilot at six o'clock that evening. Three hours later, Barry took his departure from the coast with the Henlopen lights "W B N Dist 4 Leagues."

From the pages of his journal it is evident that John Barry had more than his share of evil weather while commanding the Black Prince. Winter storms, such as those which assailed him on the voyage to Bristol and return, were to be expected. Notoriously the north Atlantic kicked up from December to April. But to have a similar experience in May and June — ordinarily a period for peaceful sailing — was now his lot. Scarcely was he out of sight of land when it began with "a tumbling Sea." Twenty-four hours later he was recording "a heavy hollow Grown [ground] Sea from the Et Ward Shiping much Water on Deck the Decks never Dry."

"The Ship Proves Vastly out of trim," he noted on May 12. That was the penalty for the hasty stowage of cargo. Apparently nothing could be done about it, for the hands are described as "Making Rounding and other Nessary Jobbs about the Riggin," rather than in attempting to shift the barrels and sacks in the hold. The Aurora, which had followed him through the capes, parted that night, but Captain Hanse's little brig Nancy remained in company until May 15.

For the next week progress was slow. One twenty-four-hour period Barry logged a scant seventy‑six miles. Frequently tacking to meet the heavy seas head‑on, it was nevertheless necessary to make numerous journal entries of "shipping much water." The stormy weather intensified as he nosed along on a course generally east by north. In the night of May 21, a terrific gale struck the Black Prince. The starboard maintopsail sheet was carried away, and the maintopsail split. At midnight the forestaysail blew out. They hove to under fore- and mizzen-staysail, while the hands swarmed aloft to repair the damage.  p51 It took most of the ensuing day to mend the torn sails. That day Barry logged fifty miles only.

From then on, while the squalls and gales continued, they came upon the Black Prince out of the westward. Thus favored, the ship made far better going of it. With nothing untoward happening, Barry drove her under all the canvas he dared risk. On the afternoon of May 29, he observed "a large Island of Ice to the Noward of us." A number of sail were sighted and four were spoken — the ship Sally, Captain Osmond, from Philadelphia to Cork, on June 7; a sloop from Cadiz to Cork, on June 11; a snow from Gibraltar to Holland, on June 16, and, finally, later the same day, Captain Read, in the Aurora.

By then they were approaching the English Channel. In the night a lookout spotted the light on the Island of Scilly, blinking through the darkness some five or six leagues to the north. With Captain Read in company, Barry bore due east until, in the false dawn of June 17, he sighted the Land's End of old England off to the northeast. Shortly after meridian that day, they rounded Lizard Point and took on pilots to carry them into Falmouth — a call necessary for fresh provisions. The Black Prince and Aurora anchored in Carrick road that night, and remained there forty-eight hours. Barry took the opportunity to put his hands to "Sundrie Nessary Jobs." The crew "unbent the main Top sail & middle Stick and Repair him Staid the Top Mast & Top gt masts greased them." About 100 pounds of beef were taken in, and the two ships cleared Falmouth in the morning of June 21.

From then on the journal records the age‑old guides to British marineers off to port, as the Black Prince and Aurora, hugging the English shore, ran up the channel — Eddystone Light and Start Point, on June 22; Portland and Dunmore Light, on June 23; and Beachy Head, on the morning of June 24. That afternoon, a pilot came on board from Dover to take Barry's storm-weary ship through the Downs, around the North Foreland and into Westgate road, where they hove to shortly after dark. The next day, Sunday, was spent at anchor, where, wrote Barry, they "Loost the steering Sail to Drie." At dawn, on Monday, June 26, they were again underway, winding up the Thames all day, to moor at dusk off Greenwich. A river pilot came on board in the morning for the last  p52 run, a six‑hour stretch to Deptford. On the afternoon of Tuesday, June 27, the Black Prince tied up at her wharf in the "Teer," — forty-eight days from Henlopen to London.

* * *

London, in June of 1775, was still ringing with the story of Lexington. John Barry, coming up the Thames in the Black Prince's long-boat, and reporting to his consignees in the city, was besieged by questions. Everybody was eager for the latest news. Because of the long passage he had nothing to impart, which had not already found its way into the columns of the daily news­papers. The day of his arrival, in fact, there were accounts printed of the taking of Ticonderoga, an exploit which had not reached his ears before he sailed.

Of the events of his London visit we have but the journal of the Black Prince. Once in port that usually ample record dwindles to meagre daily entries. For almost the entire period these entries are in his own handwriting. He made his quarters upon the ship, rather than repairing to a London hostelry and entrusting the discharge of cargo, repairs and taking in of ballast to his mate. Sticking close to the ship would imply that Robert Morris had so advised. While fears that government might interfere, might even confiscate the vessel, proved groundless, it was well to be on hand to cope with possible eventualities.

Hence, while London was avidly reading news paragraphs, printed letters and inflammatory editorials on American affairs, Barry was prosaically employed in transferring the contents of his ship to the wharf and warehouses beyond it. Oddly amusing it is to read, in comparison, the columns of one of the London news­papers — the Public Advertiser, for example — and the pages of the Black Prince's journal. The former, on June 29, announced, upon anonymous authority, that the Government was considering one of two measures, "either to keep Possession with Troops of all the great Towns on the Coast of America and shut all her Ports with Frigates, or to finish the War at once, by redu­cing with a military Force, the Provinces of New England to Obedience." That same day, Barry wrote in his journal, "Dischd 10 barls Common flower . . . unrove the Runing Riggin Got Down the Top gallant yards and Top  p53 galt Mast Recvd 59 lb of Beef and one Barl of Beer and greens so ended."

On July 3, again from the Public Advertiser, we find printed a letter from a gentleman in Philadelphia to a member of Parliament, which boasts, "The whole Province of Pennsylvania is now arming . . . our Motto is Liberty or Death!" For that day, Barry's journal comments are, "Got the fore shrouds overhead set them up Tard the Fore Topmast Shrouds and Back Stays Disch[arged] 7 Casks of Bees waxe . . . Recvd 32 lb of Beef."

One final contrast: "We hear that the Province of Pennsylvania has taken the Post Office into their own Hands," announced the Public Advertiser on July 5, "All the Continent of America are forming themselves into Companies." Wrote Barry that day, "Imployd Ratling the fore Shrouds The Latter part Washd Between Decks unbent the Cables — Recvd 31 lb Beef."

Not that the captain was ignoring the news­papers. He read them all and saved every copy. No doubt he discussed their contents with the Philadelphia masters in port — Thomas Read, of the Aurora; Nathaniel Falconer, of the Mary and Elizabeth; Peter Osborne, of the Pennsylvania Packet, and a half dozen others. He and Read considered the matter of gunpowder and agreed that it was too bad orders forbade it, as it would have been easy to ship any quantity they desired.

In London sympathies dictated the news­papers you read. If you were a loyal Tory and loved good King George, you swore by the Royal Gazette, the official mouthpiece of the government. Howbeit you were a Whig, you had a choice of such opposition papers as the Evening Post, or the Morning Post and Daily Advertiser, or the Public Advertiser. In the light of the growing indications of the spread of the revolt in the provinces, as depicted in both the Tory and Whig press, it is difficult to understand why the British crown suffered the vessels from American ports to repair, take in ballast and depart. It can be charged only to the Ministerial belief that the dissatisfaction could be crushed by one emphatic blow at the New England rebels. News of that blow, that "victory" which shocked the British people, was rumored in London early on  p54 July 25, and confirmed later in the day by the Royal Gazette.

Barry read of Bunker Hill and fretted to be gone. He feared the consequence of delay — certainly government would take drastic action now — yet the hold of the Black Prince was not yet emptied. By August 3 everything was ashore but the staves. A lighter came alongside that night and, on August 4 and 5, the last of the cargo was discharged.

Most of the other Philadelphia vessels had already departed. His ballast was all on board. A few repairs were yet to be made. With instructions to the mate to drop down to Deptford by the following Tuesday, August 8, Barry departed for a last call upon his consignees in the city. What transpired there we do not know, but when the boat brought him back to the Black Prince, off Deptford, Tuesday morning, it was merely to tell his mate to proceed down the river to Gravesend. With the ship underway, he ordered out the yawl and returned to London. This time he was absent about eighteen hours. He rejoined at six o'clock in the morning of August 9. With him was a passenger whose identity is lost.

Dropping farther down stream, they anchored below the buoy of the North Foreland in the afternoon. At daybreak of August 10 they got underway and, that afternoon, were through the Downs. A second passenger, also unidentified, boarded them at Deal, where they discharged the pilot.

"Proceeded Down Channel with the wind at W N W," wrote Barry on the morning of August 11.

"Sailed, the Black Prince, Berry, for Philadelphia," read the official ship clearance at Deal, with the right ship, but the wrong vowel in her master's name.

Alas for expectations of a speedy homeward passage. The favorable wind that wafted them down channel failed before noon. Just abreast of Dover, the breeze hauled around to the west and then shifted to west south west. For the next nine days the journal of the Black Prince is a succession of such entries as "TKd to the SoWd, ""TKd to the NoWd," or "TKd every Two hours." On these diagonal courses the ship made slight headway against a choppy sea from the westward. Landmarks along the English coast — Denge Ness, Beachy Head, the Isle of Wight, Portland Bill and Race, and Start Point — were each in sight twenty-four hours or more at a stretch. Finally around  p55 midnight of August 19, they nosed out into the Atlantic, and, at dawn of the next day, "The Lizard Bore N E B N Distn by Computation 8 or 10 Leagues."

John Barry heaved a sigh of relief as he wrote, "Out all Reefs," and noted the moderate and clear weather. His elation was premature. He might have taken known the Black Prince's propensity for picking up foul weather. It arrived toward evening — squalls with light showers. More discouraging, however, were the caprices of the winds. Again they turned variable, blowing, as he expressed it, all "Round the Compass." From time to time he tacked to get what advantage he could from the breeze, but the log line astern recorded distances as low as thirty miles for a twenty-four hour period. By August 22, it was blowing a gale again, in the midst of which the maintopgallant sail was split and the jib halliards were carried away. Later he learned that the same blasts of wind had torn loose one of the mizzen shrouds.

Alternate days of passable weather and stormy weather ensued as the Black Prince poked her nose southwesterly with an occasional tack to vary the monotony and reduce the distance of the daily run. A few sails were sighted and two were spoken, "abrigg from New found Land Bound to Port a port 12 Days out," on September 3, and "asloop from Bristol Bound to New York 3 Weeks out Thomas Thomas Master," the next day. A sudden squall, on September 8, split the jib and maintopmast staysail, with the result that Barry noted the activity on board for the balance of the day thus:

On the morning of September 10 they sighted the Azores — again the Island of Corvo Flora — the run from the Downs having taken thirty days. Then, as though to compensate Barry somewhat for its previous scurvy treatment, the weather decided to favor him. For the first and only time in the ten months he commanded the ship, he was able to test her sailing qualities to the utmost, and he flung out all the canvas she could carry.

In the twenty-four hour period, beginning at noon of September  p56 10, the Black Prince responded with an average of almost ten knots an hour. For several hours during the night she maintained an eleven-knot speed. This record run was 237 miles, and as far as we know, it was the best twenty-four-hour run made in the Eighteenth Century. In attaining it, however, Barry carried away the maintop gallant royal yard, replaced it with the mizzen topgallant yard, and carried that away also. But he had achieved a record which provided him and his two unnamed passengers with plenty of conversation during their meals in the main cabin for many a day thereafter.

Perhaps a penalty for his feat was the accident on the afternoon of September 13, when the main topmast was carried away in a sudden gust of wind. Barry had a spare spar hauled from the waist, but it was late the next day before the topmast was replaced and a new sail bent to it. For the next ten days, while not again nearing the phenomenal twenty-four-hour run of September 10‑11, the ship sailed well. Then the old Jonah stepped in again. About 500 miles off the American coast another of the storms, which punctuated the career of the Black Prince, struck her.

"The Gail Increases," wrote Barry as he wore to the northward on September 23, "a high Sea Attended with Thunder and Lightning."

Next day he was able to resume his course, but he had been driven northward to the latitude of Sandy Hook, although still well off shore. Several days later and, as he expressed it, he "herde the Main Yard crack." An immediate overhaul disclosed the yard sprung in the slings. Repairs were made, and it proved the last misfortune of the voyage.

They came within soundings on October 2. That same day they spoke the brig Mary, Robert Wallace, master, from Baltimore. She had been bound for Falmouth, but was limping back to her home port with a leak. As no assistance was required, Barry waved her skipper a cheerful farewell, and turned his attention to getting his command ship-shape for her arrival home. On October 4, 1775, at noon, fifty-four days from England, the lighthouse on Cape Henlopen was espied west by north about three leagues distant.

And there the journal of the Black Prince ends.

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