Page 72 of A Castaway in Cornwall
After that initial encounter, the next few weeks passed quickly and uneventfully. Conditions in the prison were fair overall, andAlex’s men were well treated and in reasonably good spirits, though François seemed to delight in tormenting Daniel whenever he could.
The authorities encouraged prisoners to use their skills and time wisely, and provided them with animal bone, wood, and straw to work with. On market days, local people flocked to Norman Cross to peruse the prisoners’ crafts offered for sale—items that displayed French dexterity, ingenuity, and taste: toys, domino sets, model ships, spinning jennys, and more.
Visitors remained on one side of a wooden fence while the prisoners stood behind, the slats spaced far enough apart to allow items, payment, and conversation to pass back and forth. Guards kept a watchful eye on the proceedings to make sure no clandestine correspondence or prohibited items like spirituous liquors changed hands.
Despite these restrictions, market days took on a fair-like quality. In addition to wares offered for sale, some industrious inmates put on Mr. Punch puppet shows, while others played French tunes on homemade flutes in hopes of earning a few spare coins.
Not all of the inmates were allowed into the market. Representatives of each barracks manned the stalls. Daniel was one of those. He worked one store, while François manned the next. LaRoche’s English was far better than most others’, and he did much of the negotiating for the nearby stores. Alexander wondered if he took advantage of Daniel and other craftsmen like him.
As he watched the goings-on through the grill of the prison gate, Alexander came to realize that some visitors viewed the inmates as little better than caged animals, while others looked upon them with decency or even sympathy.
One day two pretty young women stopped near François’stable. One of them smiled at him. “What a very handsome straw box. Did you make it?”
“Ma chère mademoiselle, you flatter me.” He humbly dipped his head, fingers to his heart.
Alexander knew full well he had not made the box but was simply selling it for another man, but that did not stop him from taking credit. François was a good salesman, Alex had to give him that.
Napoleon had reportedly paraphrased Adam Smith when he said of England, “L’Angleterre est une nation de boutiquiers.” But François LaRoche could outsell a whole nation of shopkeepers, charming devil that he was.
Daniel’s skills in carving and carpentry, which had served him well in his role as ship’s carpenter, also well prepared him for industry while in prison. The talented man began building model ships and Noah’s arks along with matched sets of animals.
One day, another pretty young woman in the company of her stately mamma stopped to admire Daniel’s creations.
“What a darling Noah’s ark,” the older woman said. “Such detailed animals.”
François spoke up. “Merci, madame.”
“Oh and look, Noah’s wife in her pretty yellow dress and hat!” The young woman looked up coyly into LaRoche’s face. “Did you model her after your own wife,monsieur?”
He smiled down at her. “Alas, I am not blessed with a wife. But had I one as beautiful as you,mademoiselle, I could die a happy man.”
The women tittered between themselves and bought the Noah’s ark set for a nephew. François pocketed the coins while Daniel sat there helplessly.
Daniel’s work was popular and sold quickly, yet he neverseemed to have any money, while François got richer though he created little of value and far more trouble.
As the autumn passed and winter weather descended, illness—always a problem in crowded conditions—became more rampant in the camp. Alexander remained hale, but Daniel, with his weaker constitution, developed a rattling cough. In the new year, many died of respiratory complaints in the prison hospital, and Alex began to fear his good friend would follow suit.
On one blustery market day, Alex saw Daniel outside without coat or hat. Concerned, he chided his friend, “Daniel, where is your coat? You’ll freeze.”
“I’ve got to get to the market.”
“You’ve got to put on your coat. If you are caught without, they’ll accuse you of selling your provisions for gaming.”
Some prisoners did sell their clothing and rations to obtain money for gambling or tobacco. Now that the weather had turned bitterly cold, it was becoming a real problem.
Daniel frowned. “I did not!”
“Well then?”
His friend sliced a look at François across the yard but said only, “It’s ... gone. I lost it.”
“Lost it? Where? In the laundry? Or did someone take it?”
Daniel refused to say.
Soon Alexander pieced together the truth from observation and overheard whispers. François had set himself up as a “provisions buyer,” making money by preying on the weaker men among them. He even took prison-supplied hammocks from new arrivals and rented them back to the men for a halfpenny per night, contributing to the suffering of many who went without adequate clothing and bedding on frigid nights.
The prison surgeons reported that increasing numbers ofmen were becoming ill from exposure to the cold without proper clothing or from going without rations. More than one death certificate recorded the cause of death as “debility due to selling his provisions.”
