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AMERICAN PRISONERS OF THE REVOLUTION
By Danske Dandridge
Dedication
TO THE MEMORY OF MY GRANDFATHER
Lieutenant Daniel Bedinger, of Bedford, Virginia
“A BOY IN
PRISON”
AS REPRESENTATIVE OF ALL THAT WAS BRAVEST AND MOST
HONORABLE
IN THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE PATRIOTS OF 1776
PREFACE
The writer of this book has been interested for many years in the subject of the sufferings of the American prisoners of the Revolution. Finding the information she sought widely scattered, she has, for her own use, and for that of all students of the subject, gathered all the facts she could obtain within the covers of this volume. There is little that is original in the compilation. The reader will find that extensive use has been made of such narratives as that Captain Dring has left us. The accounts could have been given in the compiler’s own words, but they would only, thereby, have lost in strength. The original narratives are all out of print, very scarce and hard to obtain, and the writer feels justified in reprinting them in this collection, for the sake of the general reader interested in the subject, and not able to search for himself through the mass of original material, some of which she has only discovered after months of research. Her work has mainly consisted in abridging these records, collected from so many different sources.
The author of this book has been interested for many years in the suffering of American prisoners during the Revolution. Realizing that the information she needed was scattered, she gathered all the facts she could find for her own reference and for anyone studying the topic, compiling them into this volume. There’s not much that is original in this collection. The reader will notice that significant use has been made of narratives, such as those left by Captain Dring. The accounts could have been rewritten in the compiler’s own words, but that would only weaken them. The original narratives are out of print, very rare, and hard to find, so the author believes it’s justified to reprint them here for general readers who are interested in the topic but can't sift through the vast amount of original material, some of which she only discovered after months of research. Her work mainly involved condensing these records from many different sources.
The writer desires to express her thanks to the courteous librarians of the Library of Congress and of the War and Navy Departments; to Dr. Langworthy for permission to publish his able and interesting paper on the subject of the prisons in New York, and to many others who have helped her in her task.
The writer wishes to thank the friendly librarians at the Library of Congress and the War and Navy Departments; Dr. Langworthy for allowing her to publish his insightful and engaging paper on the topic of prisons in New York, and many others who have supported her in her work.
DANSKE DANDRIDGE.
Danish Dandridge.
December 6th, 1910.
December 6, 1910.
CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. — INTRODUCTORY
It is with no desire to excite animosity against a people whose blood is in our veins that we publish this volume of facts about some of the Americans, seamen and soldiers, who were so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of the enemy during the period of the Revolution. We have concealed nothing of the truth, but we have set nothing down in malice, or with undue recrimination.
It is with no intention to stir up resentment against a group whose blood runs in our veins that we release this collection of facts about some of the Americans, sailors and soldiers, who were unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of the enemy during the Revolutionary period. We have not hidden any of the truth, but we have also not written anything out of spite or with excessive blame.
It is for the sake of the martyrs of the prisons themselves that this work has been executed. It is because we, as a people, ought to know what was endured; what wretchedness, what relentless torture, even unto death, was nobly borne by the men who perished by thousands in British prisons and prison ships of the Revolution; it is because we are in danger of forgetting the sacrifice they made of their fresh young lives in the service of their country; because the story has never been adequately told, that we, however unfit we may feel ourselves for the task, have made an effort to give the people of America some account of the manner in which these young heroes, the flower of the land, in the prime of their vigorous manhood, met their terrible fate.
It is for the sake of the martyrs of the prisons themselves that this work has been done. It is because we, as a people, need to know what was endured; the misery, the relentless torture, even unto death, bravely faced by the men who died by the thousands in British prisons and prison ships during the Revolution. It is because we risk forgetting the sacrifice they made of their young lives in the service of their country; because the story has never been adequately told, that we, no matter how unqualified we may feel for the task, have made an effort to provide the people of America with an account of how these young heroes, the best of the land, in the prime of their vigorous manhood, faced their tragic end.
Too long have they lain in the ditches where they were thrown, a cart-full at a time, like dead dogs, by their heartless murderers, unknown, unwept, unhonored, and unremembered. Who can tell us their names? What monument has been raised to their memories?
Too long have they been left in the ditches where they were discarded, a cart-load at a time, like dead dogs, by their ruthless killers, unknown, ungrieved, unrecognized, and forgotten. Who can tell us their names? What memorial has been built in their memory?
It is true that a beautiful shaft has lately been erected to the martyrs of the Jersey prison ship, about whom we will have very much to say. But it is improbable that even the place of interment of the hundreds of prisoners who perished in the churches, sugar houses, and other places used as prisons in New York in the early years of the Revolution, can now be discovered. We know that they were, for the most part, dumped into ditches dug on the outskirts of the little city, the New York of 1776. These ditches were dug by American soldiers, as part of the entrenchments, during Washington’s occupation of Manhattan in the spring of 1776. Little did these young men think that they were, in some cases, literally digging a grave for themselves.
It’s true that a beautiful monument has recently been built to honor the martyrs of the Jersey prison ship, about whom we will have a lot to discuss. However, it's unlikely that the burial sites of the hundreds of prisoners who died in churches, sugar houses, and other makeshift prisons in New York during the early years of the Revolution can be found now. We know that for the most part, they were dumped into ditches dug on the outskirts of what was then the small city, New York in 1776. These ditches were excavated by American soldiers as part of the fortifications during Washington’s occupation of Manhattan in the spring of 1776. Little did these young men realize that in some cases, they were literally digging their own graves.
More than a hundred and thirty years have passed since the victims of Cunningham’s cruelty and rapacity were starved to death in churches consecrated to the praise and worship of a God of love. It is a tardy recognition that we are giving them, and one that is most imperfect, yet it is all that we can now do. The ditches where they were interred have long ago been filled up, built over, and intersected by streets. Who of the multitude that daily pass to and fro over the ground that should be sacred ever give a thought to the remains of the brave men beneath their feet, who perished that they might enjoy the blessings of liberty?
More than a hundred thirty years have gone by since the victims of Cunningham’s cruelty and greed were starved to death in churches dedicated to the worship of a loving God. The recognition we are giving them now is delayed and far from perfect, but it’s all we can do at this point. The ditches where they were buried have long been filled in, built over, and crossed by streets. How many of the countless people who walk over this ground, which should be sacred, ever think about the remains of the brave men beneath them, who died for the sake of liberty?
Republics are ungrateful; they have short memories; but it is due to the martyrs of the Revolution that some attempt should be made to tell to the generations that succeed them who they were, what they did, and why they suffered so terribly and died so grimly, without weakening, and without betraying the cause of that country which was dearer to them than their lives.
Republics are ungrateful; they have short memories; but because of the martyrs of the Revolution, we should try to tell future generations who they were, what they did, and why they suffered so much and died so painfully, without faltering, and without betraying the cause of the country that meant more to them than their own lives.
We have, for the most part, limited ourselves to the prisons and prison ships in the city and on the waters of New York. This is because such information as we have been able to obtain concerning the treatment of American prisoners by the British relates, almost entirely, to that locality.
We have mostly focused on the jails and prison ships in the city and the waters of New York. This is because the information we've managed to gather about how the British treated American prisoners mostly pertains to that area.
It is a terrible story that we are about to narrate, and we warn the lover of pleasant books to lay down our volume at the first page. We shall see Cunningham, that burly, red-faced ruffian, the Provost Marshal, wreaking his vengeance upon the defenceless prisoners in his keeping, for the assault made upon him at the outbreak of the war, when he and a companion who had made themselves obnoxious to the republicans were mobbed and beaten in the streets of New York. He was rescued by some friends of law and order, and locked up in one of the jails which was soon to be the theatre of his revenge. We shall narrate the sufferings of the American prisoners taken at the time of the battle of Long Island, and after the surrender of Fort Washington, which events occurred, the first in August, the second in November of the year 1776.
It’s a terrible story we’re about to tell, and we warn those who enjoy light reading to put this book down at the first page. We’ll see Cunningham, the big, red-faced bully, the Provost Marshal, taking his revenge on the defenseless prisoners in his charge, for the attack on him at the start of the war, when he and a friend, who had become a target for the republicans, were mobbed and beaten in the streets of New York. He was saved by some supporters of law and order and locked up in one of the jails that would soon become the site of his vengeance. We will describe the suffering of the American prisoners captured during the Battle of Long Island and after the surrender of Fort Washington, which happened, the first in August and the second in November of 1776.
What we have been able to glean from many sources, none of which contradict each other in any important point, about the prisons and prison ships in New York, with a few narratives written by those who were imprisoned in other places, shall fill this volume. Perhaps others, far better fitted for the task, will make the necessary researches, in order to lay before the American people a statement of what took place in the British prisons at Halifax, Charleston, Philadelphia, the waters off the coast of Florida, and other places, during the eight years of the war. It is a solemn and affecting duty that we owe to the dead, and it is in no light spirit that we, for our part, begin our portion of the task.
What we've gathered from various sources, all agreeing on important points, about the prisons and prison ships in New York, along with a few accounts from those held in other places, will fill this volume. Maybe others, better suited for the job, will conduct the necessary research to provide the American public with a report on what happened in the British prisons in Halifax, Charleston, Philadelphia, the waters off Florida, and other locations during the eight years of the war. It's a serious and poignant responsibility we owe to the deceased, and we approach our part of the task with great respect.
CHAPTER II. — THE RIFLEMEN OF THE REVOLUTION
We will first endeavor to give the reader some idea of the men who were imprisoned in New York in the fall and winter of 1776, It was in the summer of that year that Congress ordered a regiment of riflemen to be raised in Maryland and Virginia. These, with the so-called “Flying Camp” of Pennsylvania, made the bulk of the soldiers taken prisoners at Fort Washington on the fatal 16th of November. Washington had already proved to his own satisfaction the value of such soldiers; not only by his experience with them in the French and Indian wars, but also during the siege of Boston in 1775-6.
We will first try to give the reader some idea of the men who were imprisoned in New York during the fall and winter of 1776. It was in the summer of that year that Congress ordered a regiment of riflemen to be formed in Maryland and Virginia. These, along with the so-called “Flying Camp” of Pennsylvania, made up most of the soldiers captured at Fort Washington on the disastrous 16th of November. Washington had already proven to himself the value of such soldiers, not just through his experience with them in the French and Indian wars, but also during the siege of Boston in 1775-76.
These hardy young riflemen were at first called by the British “regulars,” “a rabble in calico petticoats,” as a term of contempt. Their uniform consisted of tow linen or homespun hunting shirts, buckskin breeches, leggings and moccasins. They wore round felt hats, looped on one side and ornamented with a buck tail. They carried long rifles, shot pouches, tomahawks, and scalping knives.
These tough young riflemen were initially referred to by the British as “regulars” and “a rabble in calico petticoats” as an insult. Their uniform included linen or homemade hunting shirts, buckskin pants, leggings, and moccasins. They wore round felt hats, pinned up on one side and decorated with a bucktail. They carried long rifles, shot pouches, tomahawks, and scalping knives.
They soon proved themselves of great value for their superior marksmanship, and the British, who began by scoffing at them, ended by fearing and hating them as they feared and hated no other troops. The many accounts of the skill of these riflemen are interesting, and some of them shall be given here.
They quickly showed their worth with their exceptional marksmanship, and the British, who initially mocked them, eventually came to fear and dislike them more than any other troops. The numerous stories about the skills of these riflemen are fascinating, and some of them will be shared here.
One of the first companies that marched to the aid of Washington when he was at Cambridge in 1775 was that of Captain Michael Cresap, which was raised partly in Maryland and partly in the western part of Virginia. This gallant young officer died in New York in the fall of 1775, a year before the surrender of Fort Washington, yet his company may be taken as a fair sample of what the riflemen of the frontiers of our country were, and of what they could do. We will therefore give the words of an eyewitness of their performances. This account is taken from the Pennsylvania Journal of August 23rd, 1775.
One of the first groups to come to Washington's aid when he was in Cambridge in 1775 was Captain Michael Cresap's company, which was formed partly in Maryland and partly in western Virginia. This brave young officer died in New York in the fall of 1775, a year before the surrender of Fort Washington, but his company can be seen as a good representative of what the frontier riflemen of our country were like and what they could accomplish. Therefore, we will share the words of someone who witnessed their actions. This account is taken from the Pennsylvania Journal of August 23rd, 1775.
“On Friday evening last arrived at Lancaster, Pa., on their way to the American camp, Captain Cresap’s Company of Riflemen, consisting of one hundred and thirty active, brave young fellows, many of whom have been in the late expedition under Lord Dunmore against the Indians. They bear in their bodies visible marks of their prowess, and show scars and wounds which would do honour to Homer’s Iliad. They show you, to use the poet’s words:
“On Friday evening last, Captain Cresap’s Company of Riflemen arrived in Lancaster, PA, on their way to the American camp. The company consists of one hundred thirty active, brave young men, many of whom participated in the recent expedition under Lord Dunmore against the Indians. They bear visible marks of their prowess, showcasing scars and wounds that would make Homer proud. They show you, to use the poet’s words:
“‘Where the gor’d battle bled at ev’ry vein!’
“‘Where the gory battle bled at every vein!’”
“One of these warriors in particular shows the cicatrices of four bullet holes through his body.
“One of these warriors in particular shows the scars of four bullet holes in his body.
“These men have been bred in the woods to hardships and dangers since their infancy. They appear as if they were entirely unacquainted with, and had never felt the passion of fear. With their rifles in their hands, they assume a kind of omnipotence over their enemies. One cannot much wonder at this when we mention a fact which can be fully attested by several of the reputable persons who were eye-witnesses of it. Two brothers in the company took a piece of board five inches broad, and seven inches long, with a bit of white paper, the size of a dollar, nailed in the centre, and while one of them supported this board perpendicularly between his knees, the other at the distance of upwards of sixty yards, and without any kind of rest, shot eight bullets through it successively, and spared a brother’s thigh!
“These men have grown up in the woods, facing hardships and dangers since they were kids. They seem completely unfamiliar with fear and have never experienced it. With their rifles in hand, they feel a kind of power over their enemies. It's not surprising when we mention a fact that can be confirmed by several reputable witnesses. Two brothers in the group took a board that was five inches wide and seven inches long, with a piece of white paper the size of a dollar nailed in the center. While one of them held the board upright between his knees, the other, more than sixty yards away and without any support, shot eight bullets through it in a row and managed to avoid hitting his brother’s thigh!
“Another of the company held a barrel stave perpendicularly in his hands, with one edge close to his side, while one of his comrades, at the same distance, and in the manner before mentioned, shot several bullets through it, without any apprehension of danger on either side.
“Another member of the group held a barrel stave vertically in his hands, with one edge against his side, while one of his friends, standing the same distance away and in the same way as mentioned before, shot several bullets through it, without any fear of danger on either side."
“The spectators appearing to be amazed at these feats, were told that there were upwards of fifty persons in the same company who could do the same thing; that there was not one who could not ‘plug nineteen bullets out of twenty,’ as they termed it, within an inch of the head of a ten-penny nail.
“The spectators, looking amazed at these acts, were informed that there were more than fifty people in the same group who could do the same thing; that there wasn’t a single person who couldn’t ‘plug nineteen bullets out of twenty,’ as they called it, within an inch of the top of a ten-penny nail.”
“In short, to evince the confidence they possessed in these kind of arms, some of them proposed to stand with apples on their heads, while others at the same distance undertook to shoot them off, but the people who saw the other experiments declined to be witnesses of this.
“In short, to show the confidence they had in these types of weapons, some of them suggested standing with apples on their heads, while others at the same distance volunteered to shoot them off, but the people who witnessed the other experiments refused to watch this one.”
“At night a great fire was kindled around a pole planted in the Court House Square, where the company with the Captain at their head, all naked to the waist and painted like savages (except the Captain, who was in an Indian shirt), indulged a vast concourse of people with a perfect exhibition of a war-dance and all the manoeuvres of Indians; holding council, going to war; circumventing their enemies by defiles; ambuscades; attacking; scalping, etc. It is said by those who are judges that no representation could possibly come nearer the original. The Captain’s expertness and agility, in particular, in these experiments, astonished every beholder. This morning they will set out on their march for Cambridge.”
“At night, a huge fire was lit around a pole planted in the Court House Square, where the group, led by the Captain, all shirtless and painted like savages (except for the Captain, who wore an Indian shirt), put on an impressive show for a large crowd with a real war dance and all the maneuvers of Native Americans: holding councils, going to war, outsmarting their enemies through narrow paths, ambushes, attacking, scalping, and so on. Those knowledgeable about such things say that no performance could get closer to the real thing. The Captain’s skill and agility, in particular, amazed everyone watching. This morning, they will start their march to Cambridge.”
From the Virginia Gazette of July 22nd, 1775, we make the following extract: “A correspondent informs us that one of the gentlemen appointed to command a company of riflemen to be raised in one of the frontier counties of Pennsylvania had so many applications from the people in his neighborhood, to be enrolled in the service, that a greater number presented themselves than his instructions permitted him to engage, and being unwilling to give offence to any he thought of the following expedient: He, with a piece of chalk, drew on a board the figure of a nose of the common size, which he placed at the distance of 150 yards, declaring that those who came nearest the mark should be enlisted. Sixty odd hit the object.—General Gage, take care of your nose!”
From the Virginia Gazette of July 22nd, 1775, we have the following extract: “A correspondent tells us that one of the men selected to lead a company of riflemen to be formed in one of the frontier counties of Pennsylvania received so many requests from local residents to join the service that more people showed up than his orders allowed him to recruit. Not wanting to upset anyone, he came up with this solution: He drew a standard-sized nose on a board with chalk, placing it 150 yards away, and announced that those who got closest to the mark would be enlisted. Over sixty hit the target. —General Gage, watch out for your nose!”
From the Pennsylvania Journal, July 25th, 1775: “Captain Dowdle with his company of riflemen from Yorktown, Pa., arrived at Cambridge about one o’clock today, and since has made proposals to General Washington to attack the transport stationed at Charles River. He will engage to take her with thirty men. The General thinks it best to decline at present, but at the same time commends the spirit of Captain Dowdle and his brave men, who, though they just came a very long march, offered to execute the plan immediately.”
From the Pennsylvania Journal, July 25th, 1775: “Captain Dowdle and his company of riflemen from Yorktown, Pa., arrived in Cambridge around one o’clock today and have since proposed to General Washington to attack the transport stationed at Charles River. He is willing to take it with thirty men. The General thinks it's best to decline for now, but at the same time appreciates the enthusiasm of Captain Dowdle and his brave men, who, despite just completing a long march, offered to carry out the plan right away.”
In the third volume of American Archives, is an extract from a letter to a gentleman in Philadelphia, dated Frederick Town, Maryland, August 1st, 1775, which speaks of the same company of riflemen whose wonderful marksmanship we have already noted. The writer says:
In the third volume of American Archives, there’s an excerpt from a letter to a gentleman in Philadelphia, dated Frederick Town, Maryland, August 1st, 1775, that talks about the same group of riflemen whose impressive marksmanship we’ve already mentioned. The writer says:
“Notwithstanding the urgency of my business I have been detained here three days by a circumstance truly agreeable. I have had the happiness of seeing Captain Michael Cresap marching at the head of a formidable company of upwards of one hundred and thirty men from the mountains and backwoods; painted like Indians; armed with tomahawks and rifles; dressed in hunting shirts and moccasins; and, tho’ some of them had travelled hundreds of miles from the banks of the Ohio, they seemed to walk light and easy, and not with less spirit than at the first hour of their march.
“Even though I have urgent business, I've been held up here for three days by something truly delightful. I've had the pleasure of watching Captain Michael Cresap leading a strong group of over one hundred and thirty men from the mountains and backwoods; painted like Indians; armed with tomahawks and rifles; wearing hunting shirts and moccasins; and, although some of them had traveled hundreds of miles from the banks of the Ohio, they seemed to walk lightly and easily, no less spirited than when they first set out.”
“I was favored by being constantly in Captain Cresap’s company, and watched the behavior of his men and the manner in which he treated them, for is seems that all who go out to war under him do not only pay the most willing obedience to him as their commander, but in every instance of distress look up to him as their friend and father. A great part of his time was spent in listening to and relieving their wants, without any apparent sense of fatigue and trouble. When complaints were before him he determined with kindness and spirit, and on every occasion condescended to please without losing dignity.
“I was lucky to spend so much time with Captain Cresap and observed how his men behaved and how he treated them. It seems that everyone who goes to war with him not only follows his orders willingly but also looks to him as a friend and father in times of trouble. He devoted much of his time to listening to and addressing their needs, showing no signs of fatigue or irritation. When complaints came to him, he responded with kindness and energy, and he always aimed to please without sacrificing his dignity.”
“Yesterday, July 31st, the company were supplied with a small quantity of powder, from the magazine, which wanted airing, and was not in good order for rifles: in the evening, however, they were drawn out to show the gentlemen of the town their dexterity in shooting. A clap board with a mark the size of a dollar was put up; they began to fire offhand, and the bystanders were surprised. Few shots were made that were not close to, or into, the paper. When they had shot some time in this way, some lay on their backs, some on their breasts or sides, others ran twenty or thirty steps, and, firing as they ran, appeared to be equally certain of the mark. With this performance the company were more than satisfied, when a young man took up the board in his hand, and not by the end, but by the side, and, holding it up, his brother walked to the distance, and coolly shot into the white. Laying down his rifle he took the board, and holding it as it was held before, the second brother shot as the former had done.
“Yesterday, July 31st, the company received a small amount of powder from the magazine that needed airing and wasn't in great shape for rifles. In the evening, they went out to demonstrate their shooting skills to the gentlemen of the town. A clapboard with a target the size of a dollar was set up, and they started firing offhand, impressing the spectators. Few shots were fired that didn’t come close to, or hit, the paper. After shooting for a while this way, some lay on their backs, some on their stomachs or sides, while others ran twenty or thirty steps, shooting as they ran and seeming just as accurate. The company was more than satisfied with this display when a young man picked up the board not by the end but by the side, held it up, and his brother walked back a distance and calmly shot into the white. After laying down his rifle, he took the board and held it as it had been held before, and the second brother shot just like the first one had.”
“By this exhibition I was more astonished than pleased, but will you believe me when I tell you that one of the men took the board, and placing it between his legs, stood with his back to a tree, while another drove the centre?
“By this exhibition, I was more shocked than pleased, but will you believe me when I say that one of the men took the board, placed it between his legs, stood with his back against a tree, while another person hit the center?”
“What would a regular army of considerable strength in the forests of America do with one thousand of these men, who want nothing to preserve their health but water from the spring; with a little parched corn (with what they can easily procure by hunting); and who, wrapped in their blankets in the dead of night, would choose the shade of a tree for their covering, and the earth for their bed?”
“What would a regular army of significant size do in the forests of America with a thousand men who only need spring water to stay healthy, a bit of roasted corn, and whatever they can easily hunt; and who, wrapped in their blankets in the dead of night, would prefer the shade of a tree for shelter and the ground for a bed?”
The descriptions we have quoted apply to the rifle companies of 1775, but they are a good general description of the abilities of the riflemen raised in the succeeding years of the war, many indeed being the same men who first volunteered in 1775. In the possession of one of his descendants is a letter from one of these men written many years after the Revolution to the son of an old comrade in arms, giving an account of that comrade’s experiences during a part of the war. The letter was written by Major Henry Bedinger of Berkeley County, Virginia, to a son of General Samuel Finley.
The descriptions we've quoted refer to the rifle companies of 1775, but they provide a good general overview of the skills of the riflemen who were recruited in the years that followed, many of whom were indeed the same individuals who first volunteered in 1775. A letter from one of these men, written many years after the Revolution, is in the possession of one of his descendants. It was addressed to the son of an old comrade-in-arms and details that comrade's experiences during part of the war. The letter was written by Major Henry Bedinger of Berkeley County, Virginia, to a son of General Samuel Finley.
Henry Bedinger was descended from an old German family. His grandfather had emigrated to America from Alsace in 1737 to escape persecution for his religious beliefs. The highest rank that Bedinger attained in the War of the Revolution was that of captain. He was a Knight of the Order of the Cincinnati, and he was, after the war, a major of the militia of Berkeley County. The document in possession of one of his descendants is undated, and appears to have been a rough copy or draught of the original, which may now be in the keeping of some one of the descendants of General Finley. We will give it almost entire. Such family letters are, we need scarcely say, of great value to all who are interested in historical research, supplying, as they do, the necessary details which fill out and amplify the bare facts of history, giving us a living picture of the times and events that they describe.
Henry Bedinger came from an old German family. His grandfather moved to America from Alsace in 1737 to escape persecution for his religious beliefs. The highest rank Bedinger reached during the Revolutionary War was captain. He was a Knight of the Order of the Cincinnati, and after the war, he served as a major in the militia of Berkeley County. One of his descendants has a document that is undated and seems to be a rough draft of the original, which might now be held by one of General Finley’s descendants. We will present it almost in full. Such family letters are, as we barely need to mention, extremely valuable to anyone interested in historical research, as they provide essential details that fill out and expand the basic facts of history, giving us a vibrant depiction of the times and events they recount.
PART OF A LETTER FROM MAJOR HENRY BEDINGER TO A SON OF GENERAL SAMUEL
PART OF A LETTER FROM MAJOR HENRY BEDINGER TO A SON OF GENERAL SAMUEL
FINLEY
FINLEY
“Some time in 1774 the late Gen’l Sam’l Finley Came to Martinsburg, Berkeley County, Virginia, and engaged with the late Col’o John Morrow to assist his brother, Charles Morrow, in the business of a retail store.
“Some time in 1774, the late General Samuel Finley came to Martinsburg, Berkeley County, Virginia, and teamed up with the late Colonel John Morrow to help his brother, Charles Morrow, in running a retail store.”
“Mr. Finley continued in that employment until the spring of 1775, when Congress called on the State of Virginia for two Complete Independent Volunteer Companies of Riflemen of l00 Men each, to assist Gen’l Washington in the Siege of Boston & to serve one year. Captains Hugh Stephenson of Berkeley, & Daniel Morgan of Frederick were selected to raise and command those companies, they being the first Regular troops required to be raised in the State of Virginia for Continental service.
“Mr. Finley continued in that job until the spring of 1775, when Congress asked the State of Virginia for two complete independent volunteer companies of riflemen, each consisting of 100 men, to assist General Washington in the Siege of Boston and to serve for one year. Captains Hugh Stephenson from Berkeley and Daniel Morgan from Frederick were chosen to raise and lead those companies, as they were the first regular troops needed for Continental service in the State of Virginia."
“Captain Hugh Stephenson’s rendezvous was Shepherd’s Town (not Martinsburg) and Captain Morgan’s was Winchester. Great exertions were made by each Captain to complete his company first, that merit might be claimed on that account. Volunteers presented themselves in every direction in the Vicinity of these Towns, none were received but young men of Character, and of sufficient property to Clothe themselves completely, find their own arms, and accoutrements, that is, an approved Rifle, handsome shot pouch, and powder horn, blanket, knapsack, with such decent clothing as should be prescribed, but which was at first ordered to be only a Hunting shirt and pantaloons, fringed on every edge and in Various ways.
“Captain Hugh Stephenson's meeting point was Shepherd's Town (not Martinsburg), while Captain Morgan’s was Winchester. Each Captain made significant efforts to finish assembling his company first, hoping to claim some credit for it. Volunteers came forward from all around these towns, but only young men of good character and enough means to fully equip themselves were accepted. This meant finding their own arms and gear, including a reliable rifle, a nice shot pouch, a powder horn, a blanket, a knapsack, and suitable clothing. Initially, the clothing was specified to be just a hunting shirt and pants, fringed on all edges and in various styles.”
“Our Company was raised in less than a week. Morgan had equal success.—It was never decided which Company was first filled—
“Our company was established in less than a week. Morgan had equal success.—It was never determined which company was filled first—
“These Companies being thus unexpectedly called for it was a difficult task to obtain rifles of the quality required & we were detained at Shepherds Town nearly six weeks before we could obtain such. Your Father and some of his Bosom Companions were among the first enrolled. My Brother, G. M. B., and myself, with many of our Companions, soon joined to the amount of 100—no more could be received. The Committee of Safety had appointed Wm Henshaw as 1st Lieut., George Scott 2nd, and Thomas Hite as 3rd Lieut to this Company, this latter however, declined accepting, and Abraham Shepherd succeeded as 3d Lieut—all the rest Stood on an equal footing as Volunteers—We remained at Shepherds Town untill the 16th July before we could be Completely armed, notwithstanding the utmost exertions. In the mean time your Father obtained from the gunsmith a remarkable neat light rifle, the stock inlaid and ornamented with silver, which he held, untill Compelled, as were all of us—to ground our arms and surrender to the enemy on the evening of the 16th day of November 1776.
“These companies were unexpectedly called up, and it was a tough job to get rifles of the right quality. We were stuck in Shepherds Town for nearly six weeks before we could secure them. Your father and some of his close friends were among the first to enroll. My brother, G. M. B., and I, along with many of our companions, soon joined, bringing the total to 100—no more could be accepted. The Committee of Safety appointed Wm Henshaw as 1st Lieutenant, George Scott as 2nd, and Thomas Hite as 3rd Lieutenant for this company; however, Hite declined the position, and Abraham Shepherd stepped in as 3rd Lieutenant. The rest of us held equal status as Volunteers. We stayed in Shepherds Town until July 16 before we could be fully armed, despite our best efforts. In the meantime, your father acquired a remarkably neat light rifle from the gunsmith, with a stock that was inlaid and adorned with silver. He kept it until we were all forced to ground our arms and surrender to the enemy on the evening of November 16, 1776."
“In our Company were many young men of Considerable fortune, & who generally entered from patriotic motives ... Our time of service being about to expire Captain Hugh Stephenson was commissioned a Colonel; Moses Rawlings a Lieutenant Colonel, and Otho Williams Major, to raise a Rifle Regiment for three years: four companies to be raised in Virginia and four in Maryland.
“In our Company, there were many young men of considerable wealth, who generally joined for patriotic reasons... As our service was about to end, Captain Hugh Stephenson was promoted to Colonel; Moses Rawlings to Lieutenant Colonel, and Otho Williams to Major, to organize a Rifle Regiment for three years: four companies to be formed in Virginia and four in Maryland.”
“Henshaw and Scott chose to return home. Abraham Shepherd was commissioned Captain, Sam’l Finley First Lieutenant, William Kelly Second Lieutenant, and myself 3rd Lieutenant. The Commissions of the Field Officers were dated the 8th July, 1776, & those of our Company the 9th of the same month. Shepherd, Finley and myself were dispatched to Berkeley to recruit and refill the old Company, which we performed in about five weeks. Col’o Stephenson also returned to Virginia to facilitate the raising the additional Companies. While actively employed in August, 1776, he was taken sick, and in four days died. The command of the Regiment devolved on Lieutenant Colonel Moses Rawlings, a Very worthy and brave officer.
“Henshaw and Scott decided to go back home. Abraham Shepherd was appointed Captain, Sam’l Finley First Lieutenant, William Kelly Second Lieutenant, and I was 3rd Lieutenant. The commissions for the Field Officers were dated July 8, 1776, and those for our Company were from the 9th of the same month. Shepherd, Finley, and I were sent to Berkeley to recruit and fill the old Company, which we accomplished in about five weeks. Col’o Stephenson also returned to Virginia to help raise the additional Companies. While actively working in August 1776, he fell ill and died in four days. The command of the Regiment then passed to Lieutenant Colonel Moses Rawlings, a very worthy and brave officer.”
“Our Company being filled we Marched early in September to our Rendezvous at Bergen. So soon as the Regiment was formed it was ordered up the North River to the English Neighborhood, & in a short time ordered to cross the River and assist in the defence of Fort Washington, where were about three thousand men under the command of Col’o Magaw, on New York Island. The enemy in the mean time possessed New York, and had followed General Washington to the White Plains, from whence, after several partial actions, he returned, and approached us by the way of King’s bridge, with a force of from 8 to 12000 Men. Several frigates ran up the Hudson from New York to cut off our intercourse with Fort Lee, a fort on the opposite bank of the North River: and by regular approaches invested us on all sides.
“Our company was filled, so we marched early in September to our meeting point at Bergen. As soon as the regiment was formed, we were ordered up the North River to the English Neighborhood, and shortly after, we were ordered to cross the river and help defend Fort Washington, which had about three thousand men under the command of Colonel Magaw on New York Island. Meanwhile, the enemy had taken New York and followed General Washington to the White Plains. After several skirmishes, he retreated and approached us via King’s Bridge with a force of about 8,000 to 12,000 men. Several frigates sailed up the Hudson from New York to cut off our communication with Fort Lee, a fort on the opposite bank of the North River, and they gradually surrounded us on all sides.”
“On the 15th November, 1776, the British General Pattison appeared with a flag near our Guards, demanding a surrender of Fort Washington and the Garrison. Col’o Magaw replied he should defend it to the last extremity. Pattison declared all was ready to storm the lines and fort, we of course prepared for the Pending contest.
“On November 15, 1776, British General Pattison showed up with a flag near our Guards, demanding the surrender of Fort Washington and the Garrison. Colonel Magaw responded that he would defend it to the last possible moment. Pattison announced that everything was ready to attack the lines and the fort, and we, of course, prepared for the upcoming battle.”
“At break of day the next morning, the enemy commenced a tremendous Cannonade on every side, while their troops advanced. Our Regt. tho weak, was most advantageously posted by Rawlings and Williams, on a Small Ridge, about half a mile above Fort Washington. The Ridge ran from the North River, in which lay three frigates, towards the East River. A deep Valley divided us from the enemy, their frigates enfiladed, & their Cannon on the heights behind the advancing troops played incessantly on our party (consisting of Rawling’s Regiment, say 250 men, and one other company from Maryland, and four companies of Pennsylvania Flying Camp, also for the present commanded by Rawlings and Williams).
“At dawn the next morning, the enemy began a massive bombardment from all sides while their troops moved forward. Our regiment, though outnumbered, was well-positioned by Rawlings and Williams on a small ridge about half a mile above Fort Washington. The ridge extended from the North River, which had three frigates in it, towards the East River. A deep valley separated us from the enemy, whose frigates could fire down on us, and their cannons on the heights behind the advancing troops continually targeted our group (which consisted of Rawling’s Regiment, around 250 men, one other company from Maryland, and four companies of the Pennsylvania Flying Camp, all currently led by Rawlings and Williams).”
“The Artillery were endeavoring to clear the hill while their troops crossing the Valley were ascending it, but without much effect. A few of our men were killed with Cannon and Grape Shott. Not a Shott was fired on our side untill the Enemy had nearly gained the Sumit. Though at least five times our numbers our rifles brought down so many that they gave way several times, but by their overwhelming numbers they at last succeeded in possessing the summit. Here, however, was great carnage, each making every effort to possess and hold so advantageous a position. This obstinacy continued for more than an hour, when the enemy brought up some field pieces, as well as reinforcements. Finding all resistance useless, our Regiment gradually gave way, tho’ not before Col’o Rawlings, Major Williams, Peter Hanson, Nin Tannehill, and myself were wounded. Lt. Harrison [Footnote: Lieutenant Battaille Harrison of Berkeley County, Va.] was the only officer of our Regiment Killed. Hanson and Tannehill were mortally wounded. The latter died the same night in the Fort, & Hanson died in New York a short time after. Capt. A. Shepherd, Lieut. Daniel Cresap and myself, with fifty men, were detailed the day before the action and placed in the van to receive the enemy as they came up the hill.
The artillery was trying to clear the hill while our troops were crossing the valley and climbing it, but it wasn't very effective. A few of our men were killed by cannon and grape shot. Not a shot was fired on our side until the enemy had almost reached the summit. Even though we were outnumbered at least five to one, our rifles took down so many of them that they retreated several times. However, due to their overwhelming numbers, they eventually managed to take the summit. There was heavy fighting here, with both sides making every effort to secure such a valuable position. This stubbornness continued for over an hour until the enemy brought up some field pieces and reinforcements. Realizing that further resistance was pointless, our regiment gradually fell back, though not before Colonel Rawlings, Major Williams, Peter Hanson, Nin Tannehill, and I were wounded. Lieutenant Harrison [Footnote: Lieutenant Battaille Harrison of Berkeley County, Va.] was the only officer from our regiment killed. Hanson and Tannehill were fatally wounded; Tannehill died that same night in the fort, and Hanson passed away in New York shortly after. Captain A. Shepherd, Lieutenant Daniel Cresap, and I, along with fifty men, were assigned the day before the battle to take the front line and confront the enemy as they approached the hill.
“The Regiment was paraded in line about fifty yards in our rear, ready to support us. Your Father of course on that day, and in the whole of the action commanded Shepherd’s Company, which performed its duty admirably. About two o’clock P. M. the Enemy obtained complete possession of the hill, and former battle-ground. Our troops retreated gradually from redoubt to redoubt, contesting every inch of ground, still making dreadful Havoc in the ranks of the enemy. We laboured too under disadvantages, the wind blew the smoke full in our faces. About two o’clock A. Shepherd, being the senior Captain, took command of the Regiment, [Footnote: After Rawlings and Williams were disabled.] and by the advice of Col’o Rawlings & Major Williams, gradually retreated from redoubt to redoubt, to & into the fort with the surviving part of the Regiment. Col’o Rawlings, Major Williams, and Lt Hanson and myself quitted the field together, and retreated to the fort. I was slightly wounded, tho my right hand was rendered entirely useless. Your Father continued with the regiment until all had arrived in the fort. It was admitted by all the surviving officers that he had conducted himself with great gallantry and the utmost propriety.
“The Regiment was lined up about fifty yards behind us, ready to support our efforts. Your father, of course, commanded Shepherd’s Company that day and throughout the action, and they performed their duties exceptionally well. Around two o'clock in the afternoon, the enemy took complete control of the hill and the previous battlefield. Our troops gradually retreated from redoubt to redoubt, fighting for every inch of ground while still inflicting serious damage on the enemy ranks. We also faced disadvantages, as the wind blew the smoke directly into our faces. Around two o'clock, A. Shepherd, being the senior Captain, took command of the Regiment, [Footnote: After Rawlings and Williams were injured.] and upon the advice of Colonel Rawlings and Major Williams, slowly retreated from redoubt to redoubt, making their way into the fort with the remaining part of the Regiment. Colonel Rawlings, Major Williams, Lieutenant Hanson, and I left the field together and retreated to the fort. I was slightly wounded, though my right hand was rendered completely useless. Your father stayed with the regiment until everyone had arrived in the fort. All the surviving officers acknowledged that he had acted with great bravery and the utmost propriety.”
“While we were thus engaged the enemy succeeded much better in every other quarter, & with little comparative loss. All were driven into the fort and the enemy began by sundown to break ground within 100 yards of the fort.
“While we were occupied, the enemy was much more successful everywhere else, and with relatively few losses. Everyone was forced back into the fort, and by sunset, the enemy started digging in just 100 yards away from the fort.”
“Finding our situation desperate Col’o Magaw dispatched a flag to Gen. Howe who Commanded in person, proposing to surrender on certain conditions, which not being agreed to, other terms were proposed and accepted. The garrison, consisting of 2673 privates, & 210 officers, marched out, grounded arms, and were guarded to the White House that same night, but instead of being treated as agreed on, and allowed to retain baggage, clothes, and Side Arms, every valuable article was torn away from both officers and soldiers: every sword, pistol, every good hat was seized, even in presence of Brittish officers, & the prisoners were considered and treated as Rebels, to the king and country. On the third day after our surrender we were guarded to New York, fourteen miles from Fort Washington, where in the evening we received some barrels of raw pork and musty spoiled biscuit, being the first Morsel of provision we had seen for more than three days. The officers were then separated from the soldiers, had articles of parole presented to us which we signed, placed into deserted houses without Clothing, provisions, or fire. No officer was permitted to have a servant, but we acted in rotation, carried our Cole and Provisions about half a mile on our backs, Cooked as well as we could, and tried to keep from Starving.
“Finding our situation desperate, Col. Magaw sent a flag to Gen. Howe, who was in command, proposing to surrender under certain conditions. Since those weren't agreed to, other terms were proposed and accepted. The garrison, made up of 2,673 privates and 210 officers, marched out, laid down their arms, and were escorted to the White House that same night. However, instead of being treated as agreed and allowed to keep their baggage, clothes, and sidearms, every valuable item was taken from both the officers and soldiers: every sword, pistol, and decent hat was confiscated, even in front of British officers. The prisoners were treated as rebels against the king and country. Three days after our surrender, we were escorted to New York, fourteen miles from Fort Washington, where in the evening we received some barrels of raw pork and spoiled biscuits, which was the first food we had seen in over three days. The officers were then separated from the soldiers, given articles of parole to sign, and placed in abandoned houses without clothing, food, or fire. No officer was allowed to have a servant, so we took turns carrying our coal and provisions about half a mile on our backs, cooked as best as we could, and tried to avoid starving.”
“Our poor Soldiers fared most wretchedly different. They were crowded into sugar houses and Jails without blankets or covering; had Very little given to them to eat, and that little of the Very worst quality. So that in two months and four days about 1900 of the Fort Washington troops had died. The survivors were sent out and receipted for by General Washington, and we the officers were sent to Long Island on parole, and billetted, two in a house, on the families residing in the little townships of Flatbush, New Utrecht, Newlots, and Gravesend, who were compelled to board and lodge us at the rate of two dollars per week, a small compensation indeed in the exhausted state of that section of country. The people were kind, being mostly conquered Whigs, but sometimes hard run to provide sustenance for their own families, with the addition, generally, of two men who must have a share of what could be obtained. These people could not have furnished us but for the advantage of the fisheries, and access at all times to the water. Fish, oysters, clams, Eels, and wild fowl could always be obtained in their season.
“Our poor soldiers faced terrible conditions. They were crammed into sugar houses and jails without blankets or anything to cover themselves; they received very little to eat, and that small amount was of the worst quality. In just two months and four days, about 1,900 of the Fort Washington troops had died. The survivors were sent out and accounted for by General Washington, while we officers were sent to Long Island on parole and assigned to houses, two per home, with families living in the small towns of Flatbush, New Utrecht, Newlots, and Gravesend. These families were forced to board and house us at the rate of two dollars a week, which was hardly a fair payment considering the exhausted state of that area. The people were kind, mostly conquered Whigs, but they sometimes struggled to provide for their own families, in addition to accommodating two men who needed a share of whatever was available. They could only manage to support us because of the fishing resources and constant access to the water. Fish, oysters, clams, eels, and wild fowl were readily available in their seasons.”
“We were thus fixed on the inhabitants, but without money, or clothing. Sometimes a companion would receive a few hard dollars from a friend through a flag of truce, which was often shared by others to purchase a pair of shoes or a shirt.
“We were therefore focused on the locals, but without money or clothes. Sometimes a friend would send a few hard dollars to a companion through a truce flag, which was often shared with others to buy a pair of shoes or a shirt.”
“While in New York Major Williams received from a friend about forty silver dollars. He was still down with his wound, but requested Captain Shepherd, your Father and myself to come to his room, and there lent each of us ten Dollars, which enabled each of us to purchase a pair shoes, a shirt, and some other small matters: this liberality however, gave some offence. Major Williams was a Marylander, and to assist a Virginian, in preference to a Marylander, was a Crime almost unpardonable. It however passed off, as it so happened there were some refugees in New York from Maryland who had generosity enough to relieve the pressing wants of a few of their former acquaintances.
“While in New York, Major Williams received about forty silver dollars from a friend. He was still recovering from his injury, but asked Captain Shepherd, your father, and me to come to his room. There, he lent each of us ten dollars, which allowed us to buy a pair of shoes, a shirt, and a few other small items. However, this generosity caused some offense. Major Williams was from Maryland, and assisting a Virginian over a Marylander was seen as nearly unforgivable. Still, it blew over because there were some refugees in New York from Maryland who were generous enough to help out a few of their former friends in need.”
“We thus lived in want and perfect idleness for years: tho sometimes if Books could be obtained we made out to read: if paper, pen, and ink could be had we wrote. Also to prevent becoming too feeble we exercised our bodies by playing fives, throwing long bullets, wrestling, running, jumping, and other athletick exercises, in all of which your Father fully participated. Being all nearly on the same footing as to Clothing and pocket money (that is we seldom had any of the latter) we lived on an equality.
“We lived in need and total idleness for years; though sometimes, if we could get books, we managed to read. If we had paper, pens, and ink, we would write. To avoid getting too weak, we kept our bodies active by playing fives, tossing heavy balls, wrestling, running, jumping, and other athletic activities, in which your father took part fully. Since we were all pretty much on the same level regarding clothing and pocket money (which we rarely had), we lived as equals.”
“In the fall of 1777 the Brittish Commander was informed a plan was forming by a party of Americans to pass over to Long Island and sweep us off, release us from captivity. There were then on the Island about three hundred American officers prisoners. We were of course ordered off immediately, and placed on board of two large transports in the North River, as prison ships, where we remained but about 18 days, but it being Very Cold, and we Confined between decks, the Steam and breath of 150 men soon gave us Coughs, then fevers, and had we not been removed back to our billets I believe One half would have died in six weeks. This is all the imprisonment your——”
“In the fall of 1777, the British Commander was informed that a group of Americans was planning to cross over to Long Island to attack and free us from captivity. At that time, there were about three hundred American officer prisoners on the island. We were immediately ordered to leave and put aboard two large transports in the North River, serving as prison ships. We stayed there for about 18 days, but since it was very cold and we were confined below deck, the steam and breath of 150 men quickly gave us coughs and then fevers. If we hadn't been moved back to our quarters, I believe half of us would have died within six weeks. This is all the imprisonment your——”
The rest of this valuable letter has been, most unfortunately lost, or possibly it was never completed.
The rest of this important letter has unfortunately been lost, or it might not have ever been finished.
We have given a great deal of it because of its graphic description of the men who were captured at Fort Washington, and of the battle itself. Major Bedinger was a dignified, well-to-do, country gentleman; honored and respected by all who knew him, and of unimpeachable veracity.
We have given a lot of attention to it because of its vivid description of the men who were captured at Fort Washington and the battle itself. Major Bedinger was a dignified, well-off country gentleman; honored and respected by everyone who knew him and known for his absolute honesty.
CHAPTER III. — NAMES OF SOME OF THE PRISONERS OF 1776
As we have seen, the officers fared well in comparison with the wretched privates. Paroled and allowed the freedom of the city, they had far better opportunities to obtain the necessities of life. “Our poor soldiers fared most wretchedly different,” says Major Bedinger.
As we've seen, the officers had a much better experience compared to the unfortunate privates. Given their parole and the freedom to move around the city, they had way better chances to get what they needed for daily life. “Our poor soldiers had a really terrible experience,” says Major Bedinger.
Before we begin, however, to speak of the treatment they received, we must make some attempt to tell the reader who they were. We wish it were possible to give the name of every private who died, or rather who was murdered, in the prisons of New York at this time. But that, we fear, is now an impossibility. As this account is designed as a memorial to those martyred privates, we have made many efforts to obtain their names. But if the muster rolls of the different companies who formed the Rifle Regiment, the Pennsylvania Flying Camp, and the other troops captured by the British in the summer and fall of 1776 are in existence, we have not been able to find them.
Before we start discussing the treatment they received, we need to try to tell the reader who they were. We wish we could name every soldier who died, or rather who was murdered, in the prisons of New York at this time. But sadly, that seems impossible now. Since this account is meant to honor those fallen soldiers, we have made a lot of effort to gather their names. However, if the muster rolls of the various companies that made up the Rifle Regiment, the Pennsylvania Flying Camp, and the other troops captured by the British in the summer and fall of 1776 still exist, we haven’t been able to find them.
The records of the Revolution kept in the War Department in England have been searched in vain by American historians. It is said that the Provost Marshal, William Cunningham, destroyed his books, in order to leave no written record of his crimes. The names of 8,000 prisoners, mostly seamen, who were confined on the prison ship Jersey, alone, have been obtained by the Society of Old Brooklynites, from the British Archives, and, by the kind permission of this Society, we re-publish them in the Appendix to this volume.
The records of the Revolution stored in the War Department in England have been searched unsuccessfully by American historians. It's reported that the Provost Marshal, William Cunningham, destroyed his records to erase any written evidence of his crimes. The names of 8,000 prisoners, mostly sailors, who were held on the prison ship Jersey, have been sourced by the Society of Old Brooklynites from the British Archives, and with the generous permission of this Society, we are republishing them in the Appendix to this volume.
Here and there, also, we have obtained a name of one of the brave young riflemen who died in torment a hundred times worse, because so much less swift, than that endured on a memorable occasion in India, when British soldiers were placed, during a single night, into one of their own “Black Holes.” But the names of almost all of these our tortured countrymen are forgotten as completely as their places of interment are neglected.
Here and there, we've also learned the name of one of the brave young riflemen who suffered in ways a hundred times worse—because it was so much slower—than what happened on a memorable occasion in India when British soldiers were put into one of their own “Black Holes” during a single night. But the names of almost all of these tortured countrymen are forgotten just as completely as their burial sites are neglected.
In the hands of the writer, however, at this time [Footnote: This muster roll was lent to the writer by Henry Bedinger Davenport, Esq, a descendant of Major Bedinger] is the pay-roll of one of these companies of riflemen,—that of Captain Abraham Shepherd of Shepherdstown, Virginia. It is in the handwriting of Henry Bedinger, one of the lieutenants of the company.
In the writer's possession, however, at this time [Footnote: This muster roll was lent to the writer by Henry Bedinger Davenport, Esq, a descendant of Major Bedinger] is the pay-roll of one of these rifleman companies,—that of Captain Abraham Shepherd from Shepherdstown, Virginia. It's written in the handwriting of Henry Bedinger, one of the company’s lieutenants.
We propose to take this list, or pay roll, as a sample, and to follow, as well as we can, at this late day, the misfortunes of the men named therein. For this purpose we will first give the list of names, and afterwards attempt to indicate how many of the men died in confinement, and how many lived to be exchanged.
We suggest using this list, or payroll, as a sample and doing our best to track, at this late stage, the fates of the men listed. To start, we’ll present the list of names and then try to indicate how many of the men died in captivity and how many survived to be exchanged.
MUSTER ROLL
Attendance list
The paper in question, falling to pieces with age, and almost illegible in places, is headed, “An ABSTRACT of the Pay due the Officers and Privates of the Company of Riflemen belonging to Captain Abraham Shepherd, being part of a Battalion raised by Colonel Hugh Stevenson, deceased, and afterwards commanded by Lieut Colonel Moses Rawlings, in the Continental Service from July 1st, 1776, to October 1st, 1778.” The paper gives the dates of enlistment; those who were killed; those who died; those who deserted; those who were discharged; drafted; made prisoners; “dates until when pay is charged;” “pay per month;” “amount in Dollars,” and “amount in lawful Money, Pounds, Shillings and pence.” From this account much information can be gleaned concerning the members of the company, but we will, for the present, content ourselves with giving the muster roll of the company.
The paper in question, falling apart with age and nearly unreadable in spots, is titled, “An ABSTRACT of the Pay due the Officers and Privates of the Company of Riflemen belonging to Captain Abraham Shepherd, part of a Battalion raised by Colonel Hugh Stevenson, who has passed away, and later commanded by Lieut Colonel Moses Rawlings, in the Continental Service from July 1st, 1776, to October 1st, 1778.” The paper lists enlistment dates; those who were killed; those who died; those who deserted; those who were discharged; drafted; taken prisoner; “dates until which pay is owed;” “pay per month;” “amount in Dollars,” and “amount in lawful Money, Pounds, Shillings and Pence.” From this account, we can gather a lot of information about the members of the company, but for now, we will focus on providing the muster roll of the company.
MUSTER ROLL OF CAPTAIN ABRAHAM SHEPHERD’S COMPANY OF RIFLEMEN RAISED IN JULY, 1776
MUSTER ROLL OF CAPTAIN ABRAHAM SHEPHERD’S COMPANY OF RIFLEMEN RAISED IN JULY, 1776
Captain Abraham Shepherd. First Lieutenant, Samuel Finley. Second Lieutenant, William Kelly. Third Lieutenant, Henry Bedinger. First Sergeant, John Crawford. Second Sergeant, John Kerney. Third Sergeant, Robert Howard. Fourth Sergeant, Dennis Bush. First Corporal, John Seaburn. Second Corporal, Evert Hoglant. Third Corporal, Thomas Knox. Fourth Corporal, Jonathan Gibbons. Drummer, Stephen Vardine. Fifer, Thomas Cook. Armourer, James Roberts.
Captain Abraham Shepherd. First Lieutenant, Samuel Finley. Second Lieutenant, William Kelly. Third Lieutenant, Henry Bedinger. First Sergeant, John Crawford. Second Sergeant, John Kerney. Third Sergeant, Robert Howard. Fourth Sergeant, Dennis Bush. First Corporal, John Seaburn. Second Corporal, Evert Hoglant. Third Corporal, Thomas Knox. Fourth Corporal, Jonathan Gibbons. Drummer, Stephen Vardine. Fifer, Thomas Cook. Armourer, James Roberts.
Privates, William Anderson, Jacob Wine, Richard Neal, Peter Hill, William Waller, Adam Sheetz, James Hamilton, George Taylor, Adam Rider, Patrick Vaughan, Peter Hanes, John Malcher, Peter Snyder, Daniel Bedinger, John Barger, William Hickman, Thomas Pollock, Bryan Timmons, Thomas Mitchell, Conrad Rush, David Harman, James Aitken, William Wilson, John Wilson, Moses McComesky, Thomas Beatty, John Gray, Valentine Fritz, Zechariah Bull, William Moredock, Charles Collins, Samuel Davis, Conrad Cabbage, John Cummins, Gabriel Stevens, Michael Wolf, John Lewis, William Donnelly, David Gilmore, John Cassody, Samuel Blount, Peter Good, George Helm, William Bogle (or Boyle), John Nixon, Anthony Blackhead, Christian Peninger, Charles Jones, William Case, Casper Myre, George Brown, Benjamin McKnight, Anthony Larkin, William Seaman, Charles Snowden, John Boulden, John Blake, Nicholas Russell, Benjamin Hughes, James Brown, James Fox, William Hicks, Patrick Connell, John Holmes, John McSwaine, James Griffith, Patrick Murphy, James Aitken.
Privates, William Anderson, Jacob Wine, Richard Neal, Peter Hill, William Waller, Adam Sheetz, James Hamilton, George Taylor, Adam Rider, Patrick Vaughan, Peter Hanes, John Malcher, Peter Snyder, Daniel Bedinger, John Barger, William Hickman, Thomas Pollock, Bryan Timmons, Thomas Mitchell, Conrad Rush, David Harman, James Aitken, William Wilson, John Wilson, Moses McComesky, Thomas Beatty, John Gray, Valentine Fritz, Zechariah Bull, William Moredock, Charles Collins, Samuel Davis, Conrad Cabbage, John Cummins, Gabriel Stevens, Michael Wolf, John Lewis, William Donnelly, David Gilmore, John Cassody, Samuel Blount, Peter Good, George Helm, William Bogle (or Boyle), John Nixon, Anthony Blackhead, Christian Peninger, Charles Jones, William Case, Casper Myre, George Brown, Benjamin McKnight, Anthony Larkin, William Seaman, Charles Snowden, John Boulden, John Blake, Nicholas Russell, Benjamin Hughes, James Brown, James Fox, William Hicks, Patrick Connell, John Holmes, John McSwaine, James Griffith, Patrick Murphy, James Aitken.
Besides the names of this company we can give a few privates of the Pennsylvania Flying Camp who are mentioned by Saffel. He adds that, as far as is known, all of these perished in prison, after inscribing their names high up upon the walls.
Besides the names of this company, we can mention a few members of the Pennsylvania Flying Camp who are noted by Saffel. He adds that, as far as we know, all of them died in prison after carving their names high up on the walls.
SOME PRIVATES OF THE PENNSYLVANIA FLYING CAMP WHO PERISHED IN PRISON IN 1776-7
SOME PRIVATES OF THE PENNSYLVANIA FLYING CAMP WHO DIED IN PRISON IN 1776-7
“Charles Fleming, John Wright, James McKinney, Ebenezer Stille, Jacob Leinhart, Abraham Van Gordon, Peter D’Aubert, William Carbury, John McDowell, Wm. McKague, Henry Parker, James Burns, Henry Yepler, Baltus Weigh, Charles Beason, Leonard Huber, John McCarroll, Jacob Guiger, John May, Daniel Adams, George McCormick, Jacob Kettle, Jacob Miller, George Mason, James Kearney, David Sutor, Adam Bridel, Christian Mull, Daniel McKnight, Cornelius Westbrook, Luke Murphy, Joseph Conklin, Adam Dennis, Edward Ogden, Wm. Scoonover, James Rosencrants.”
“Charles Fleming, John Wright, James McKinney, Ebenezer Stille, Jacob Leinhart, Abraham Van Gordon, Peter D’Aubert, William Carbury, John McDowell, Wm. McKague, Henry Parker, James Burns, Henry Yepler, Baltus Weigh, Charles Beason, Leonard Huber, John McCarroll, Jacob Guiger, John May, Daniel Adams, George McCormick, Jacob Kettle, Jacob Miller, George Mason, James Kearney, David Sutor, Adam Bridel, Christian Mull, Daniel McKnight, Cornelius Westbrook, Luke Murphy, Joseph Conklin, Adam Dennis, Edward Ogden, Wm. Scoonover, James Rosencrants.”
The names of the officers who were prisoners in New York after the battle of Long Island and the surrender of Fort Washington, can easily be obtained. But it is not with these, at present, that we have to do. We have already seen how much better was their treatment than that accorded to the hapless privates. It is chiefly to commemmorate the sufferings of the private soldier and seaman in the British prisons that this account has been written.
The names of the officers who were prisoners in New York after the Battle of Long Island and the surrender of Fort Washington are easy to find. However, that’s not our focus right now. We've already seen how much better their treatment was compared to the unfortunate privates. This account is mainly written to commemorate the suffering of the private soldiers and sailors in British prisons.
CHAPTER IV. — THE PRISONS OF NEW YORK—JONATHAN GILLETT
We will now endeavor to describe the principal places of confinement used by the British in New York during the early years of the war. Lossing, in his Field Book of the Revolution, thus speaks of these dens of misery: “At the fight around Fort Washington,” he says, “only one hundred Americans were killed, while the British loss was one thousand, chiefly Hessians, But the British took a most cruel revenge. Out of over 2600 prisoners taken on that day, in two months & four days 1900 were killed in the infamous sugar houses and other prisons in the city.
We will now try to describe the main places of confinement used by the British in New York during the early years of the war. Lossing, in his Field Book of the Revolution, describes these places of suffering: “At the fight around Fort Washington,” he says, “only one hundred Americans were killed, while the British loss was one thousand, mostly Hessians. But the British took a cruel revenge. Out of over 2600 prisoners taken that day, in two months and four days, 1900 were killed in the notorious sugar houses and other prisons in the city.
“Association of intense horror are linked with the records of the prisons and prison ships of New York. Thousands of captives perished miserably of hunger, cold, infection, and in some cases, actual poison.
“Association of intense horror are linked with the records of the prisons and prison ships of New York. Thousands of captives perished miserably of hunger, cold, infection, and in some cases, actual poison.
“All the prisoners taken in the battle near Brooklyn in August, 1776 and at Fort Washington in November of the same year, were confined in New York, nearly 4000 in all. The New Jail and the New Bridewell were the only prisons. The former is the present Hall of Records. Three sugar houses, some dissenting churches, Columbia College, and the Hospital were all used as prisons. The great fire in September; the scarcity of provisions; and the cruel conduct of the Provost Marshal all combined to produce intense sufferings among the men, most of whom entered into captivity, strong, healthy, young, able-bodied, the flower of the American youth of the day.
“All the prisoners captured in the battle near Brooklyn in August 1776 and at Fort Washington in November of that same year were held in New York, close to 4,000 in total. The New Jail and the New Bridewell were the only prisons available. The former is now the Hall of Records. Three sugar houses, some dissenting churches, Columbia College, and the Hospital were all repurposed as prisons. The major fire in September, the shortage of supplies, and the harsh treatment by the Provost Marshal all contributed to severe suffering among the men, most of whom entered captivity strong, healthy, young, and able-bodied—the best of American youth at the time.
“Van Cortlandt’s Sugar House was a famous (or infamous) prison. It stood on the northwest corner of Trinity church-yard.
“Van Cortlandt’s Sugar House was a well-known (or notorious) prison. It was located on the northwest corner of Trinity churchyard.
“Rhinelander’s Sugar House was on the corner of William and Duane Streets. Perhaps the worst of all the New York prisons was the third Sugar House, which occupied the space on Liberty Street where two buildings, numbers 34 and 36, now stand.
“Rhinelander’s Sugar House was located at the corner of William and Duane Streets. Perhaps the worst of all the New York prisons was the third Sugar House, which occupied the site on Liberty Street where two buildings, numbers 34 and 36, currently stand.”
“The North Dutch Church on William Street contained 800 prisoners, and there were perhaps as many in the Middle Dutch Church. The Friends’ Meeting House on Liberty and several other buildings erected for the worship of a God of love were used as prisons.
“The North Dutch Church on William Street held 800 prisoners, and there were probably just as many in the Middle Dutch Church. The Friends’ Meeting House on Liberty and several other buildings meant for worshiping a God of love were turned into prisons.
“The New Jail was made a Provost Prison, and here officers and men of note were confined. At one time they were so crowded into this building, that when they lay down upon the floor to sleep all in the row were obliged to turn over at the same time at the call, ‘Turn over! Left! Right!’
“The New Jail became a Provost Prison, where notable officers and men were held. At one point, it got so crowded that when they lay down on the floor to sleep, everyone in the row had to turn over at the same time at the command, ‘Turn over! Left! Right!’”
“The sufferings of these brave men were largely due to the criminal indifference of Loring, Sproat, Lennox, and other Commissaries of the prisoners.
“The suffering of these brave men was largely caused by the criminal indifference of Loring, Sproat, Lennox, and other commissaries of the prisoners.”
“Many of the captives were hanged in the gloom of night without trial and without a semblance of justice.
“Many of the prisoners were hanged in the darkness of night without a trial and without any sign of justice.
“Liberty Street Sugar House was a tall, narrow building five stories in height, and with dismal underground dungeons. In this gloomy abode jail fever was ever present. In the hot weather of July, 1777, companies of twenty at a time would be sent out for half an hour’s outing, in the court yard. Inside groups of six stood for ten minutes at a time at the windows for a breath of air.
“Liberty Street Sugar House was a tall, narrow building five stories high, with dark underground dungeons. In this gloomy place, jail fever was always a threat. During the hot weather of July 1777, groups of twenty at a time were allowed to go outside for half an hour in the courtyard. Inside, groups of six would stand at the windows for ten minutes at a time to get some fresh air.”
“There were no seats; the filthy straw bedding was never changed. Every day at least a dozen corpses were dragged out and pitched like dead dogs into the ditches and morasses beyond the city. Escapes, deaths, and exchange at last thinned the ranks. Hundreds left names and records on the walls.”
“There were no seats; the dirty straw bedding was never changed. Every day at least a dozen bodies were dragged out and tossed like dead dogs into the ditches and swamps beyond the city. Escapes, deaths, and exchanges eventually reduced their numbers. Hundreds left names and records on the walls.”
“In 1778 the hulks of decaying ships were moored in the Wallabout. These prison ships were intended for sailors and seaman taken on the ocean, mostly the crews of privateersmen, but some soldiers were also sent to languish in their holds.
“In 1778, the ruins of old ships were anchored in the Wallabout. These prison ships were meant for sailors and seamen captured at sea, mainly the crews of privateers, but some soldiers were also sent to suffer in their holds.”
“The first vessels used were transports in which cattle and other stores had been brought over by the British in 1776. These lay in Gravesend Bay and there many of the prisoners taken in battle near Brooklyn in August, 1776, were confined, until the British took possession of New York, when they were moved to that city. In 1778 the hulks of ships were moored in the Wallabout, a sheltered bay on the Long Island shore, where the Navy Yard now is.”
“The first ships used were transports that had brought over cattle and other supplies by the British in 1776. These were anchored in Gravesend Bay, where many of the prisoners captured in battle near Brooklyn in August 1776 were held, until the British occupied New York, at which point they were relocated to the city. In 1778, the abandoned ships were docked in the Wallabout, a sheltered bay on the Long Island shore, where the Navy Yard is now located.”
The sufferings of the prisoners can be better understood by giving individual instances, and wherever this is possible it shall be done. We will commence by an abstract of
The hardships faced by the prisoners can be better understood through individual examples, and wherever possible, we will provide those. We'll start with a summary of
THE CASE OF JONATHAN GILLETT OF WEST HARFORD
THE CASE OF JONATHAN GILLETT OF WEST HARTFORD
This man with seven others was captured on Long Island on the 27th of August, 1776, before they could take to their boats. He was at first confined in a prison ship, but a Masonic brother named John Archer procured him the liberty of the city on parole. His rank, we believe, was that of a lieutenant. He was a prisoner two years, then was allowed to go home to die. He exhibited every symptom of poison as well as starvation.
This man, along with seven others, was captured on Long Island on August 27, 1776, before they could escape to their boats. He was initially held on a prison ship, but a Masonic brother named John Archer secured his release on parole. We believe his rank was lieutenant. He was a prisoner for two years and then allowed to go home to die. He showed all the signs of poisoning as well as starvation.
When he was dying he said to his son, Jonathan Gillett, Junior, “Should you enlist and be taken prisoner as I was, inquire for Mr. John Archer, a man with whom I boarded. He will assist you.”
When he was dying, he said to his son, Jonathan Gillett, Junior, “If you enlist and get captured like I did, look for Mr. John Archer, a man I boarded with. He will help you.”
In course of time his son enlisted, was taken prisoner, and confined in the Old Sugar House on Liberty Street. Here he was nearly starved to death. The prisoners ate mice, rats, and insects. He one day found in the prison yard the dry parings of a turnip which seemed to him a delicious banquet. It is recorded that Jonathan Gillett, Jr., was finally freed from captivity through the efforts of the same gentleman, Mr. John Archer, who had aided his father.
In time, his son enlisted, was captured, and imprisoned in the Old Sugar House on Liberty Street. There, he was nearly starved to death. The prisoners resorted to eating mice, rats, and insects. One day, he discovered dry turnip peels in the prison yard, which felt like a feast to him. It's noted that Jonathan Gillett, Jr., was eventually freed from captivity thanks to the efforts of Mr. John Archer, the same man who had helped his father.
In 1852 Jacob Barker offered to present survivors who had been confined in the Old Sugar House with canes made from the lumber used in its construction. Four of these survivors were found. Their names were William Clark, Samuel Moulton, Levi Hanford, and Jonathan Gillett, Jr. The latter’s father during his confinement wrote a letter to his friends which has been preserved, and is as follows:
In 1852, Jacob Barker offered to give canes made from the wood used in the construction of the Old Sugar House to the survivors who had been held there. Four of these survivors were found. Their names were William Clark, Samuel Moulton, Levi Hanford, and Jonathan Gillett, Jr. During his time in captivity, Jonathan's father wrote a letter to his friends, which has been preserved and is as follows:
My Friends,
My friends,
No doubt my misfortunes have reached your ears. Sad as it is, it is true as sad. I was made prisoner the 27th day of August past by a people called heshens, and by a party called Yagers the most Inhuman of all Mortals. I can’t give Room to picture them here but thus much—I at first Resolved not to be taken, but by the Impertunity of the Seven taken with me, and being surrounded on all sides I unhapily surendered; would to God I never had—then I should never (have) known there unmerciful cruelties; they first disarmed me, then plundered me of all I had, watch, Buckles, money, and sum Clothing, after which they abused me by bruising my flesh with the butts of there (guns). They knocked me down; I got up and they (kept on) beating me almost all the way to there (camp) where I got shot of them—the next thing was I was allmost starved to death by them. I was keept here 8 days and then sent on board a ship, where I continued 39 days and by (them was treated) much worse than when on shore—after I was set on (shore) at New York (I was) confined (under) a strong guard till the 20th day of November, after which I have had my liberty to walk part over the City between sun and sun, notwithstanding there generous allowance of food I must inevitably have perished with hunger had not sum friends in this (city) Relieved my extreme necessity, but I cant expect they can always do it—what I shall do next I know not, being naked for clothes and void of money, and winter present, and provisions very skerce; fresh meat one shilling per pound, Butter three shillings per pound, Cheese two shillings, Turnips and potatoes at a shilling a half peck, milk 15 Coppers per quart, bread equally as dear; and the General says he cant find us fuel thro’ the winter, tho’ at present we receive sum cole. [Footnote: I have made no changes in this letter except to fill up some blanks and to add a few marks of punctuation.]
No doubt my misfortunes have reached your ears. Sadly, it's true as it is sad. I was taken prisoner on the 27th of August by a group called heshens, along with a party called Yagers, the most inhumane of all mortals. I can't give you a full picture of them here, but this much I will say—I initially resolved not to be captured, but due to the persistence of the seven taken with me and being surrounded on all sides, I unfortunately surrendered; I wish I never had—then I would have never known their merciless cruelties. They first disarmed me, then took everything I had: my watch, buckles, money, and some clothing. After that, they abused me by bruising my flesh with the butts of their guns. They knocked me down; I got back up, and they kept beating me almost all the way to their camp where I finally escaped from them—the next thing was I was almost starved to death by them. I was kept there for eight days and then sent aboard a ship, where I was treated much worse than when I was onshore for 39 days. After I was put ashore in New York, I was confined under a strong guard until the 20th of November, after which I was allowed to walk around part of the city between sunrise and sunset. Despite their generous food allowance, I would have definitely starved without some friends in this city who helped me in my extreme need, but I can't expect they can always do it—what I should do next, I don't know, being without clothes and money, with winter upon us and provisions very scarce; fresh meat costing one shilling per pound, butter three shillings per pound, cheese two shillings, turnips and potatoes at a shilling a half peck, milk costing 15 coppers per quart, and bread equally expensive; and the General says he can't find us fuel through the winter, although at present, we receive some coal. [Footnote: I have made no changes in this letter except to fill up some blanks and to add a few marks of punctuation.]
“I was after put on board siezed violently with the disentarry—it followed me hard upwards of six weeks—after that a slow fever, but now am vastly better * * * my sincere love to you and my children. May God keep and preserve you at all times from sin, sickness, and death * * * I will Endeavor to faintly lead you into the poor cituation the soldiers are in, espechally those taken at Long Island where I was; in fact these cases are deplorable and they are Real objects of pitty—they are still confined and in houses where there is no fire—poor mortals, with little or no clothes—perishing with hunger, offering eight dollars in paper for one in silver to Relieve there distressing hunger; occasioned for want of food—there natures are broke and gone, some almost loose there voices and some there hearing—they are crouded into churches & there guarded night and day. I cant paint the horable appearance they make—it is shocking to human nature to behold them. Could I draw the curtain from before you; there expose to your view a lean Jawd mortal, hunger laid his skinny hand (upon him) and whet to keenest Edge his stomach cravings, sorounded with tattred garments, Rotten Rags, close beset with unwelcome vermin. Could I do this, I say, possable I might in some (small) manner fix your idea with what appearance sum hundreds of these poor creatures make in houses where once people attempted to Implore God’s Blessings, &c, but I must say no more of there calamities. God be merciful to them—I cant afford them no Relief. If I had money I soon would do it, but I have none for myself.—I wrote to you by Mr. Wells to see if some one would help me to hard money under my present necessity I write no more, if I had the General would not allow it to go out, & if ever you write to me write very short or else I will never see it—what the heshens robbed me of that day amounted to the value of seventy two dollars at least. * * * I will give you as near an exact account of how many prisoners the enemy have taken as I can. They took on Long Island of the Huntingon Regiment 64, and of officers 40, of other Regiments about 60. On Moulogin Island 14, Stratton Island (Staten) 7, at Fort Washington 2200 officers and men. On the Jersey side about 28 officers and men. In all 3135 and how many killed I do not know. Many died of there wounds. Of those that went out with me of sickness occasioned by hunger eight and more lie at the point of death.
“I was then put on board and hit hard by dysentery—it lasted relentlessly for over six weeks—then a slow fever, but now I’m feeling much better. My sincere love to you and the kids. May God keep you safe from sin, illness, and death at all times. I will try to give you a sense of the terrible situation the soldiers are in, especially those captured at Long Island where I was; honestly, their circumstances are heartbreaking, and they are truly objects of pity. They are still confined in buildings without any heat—poor souls, with barely any clothes—starving, offering eight dollars in paper for a single dollar in silver to ease their desperate hunger due to lack of food. Their health is broken, some are losing their voices, and some their hearing—they are crammed into churches & guarded day and night. I can’t describe the horrible sight they present—it’s shocking to see them. If I could draw back the curtain for you, you would see a gaunt, starving person, hunger gaunt and sharpening his stomach’s cravings, surrounded by tattered clothes and rotten rags, infested with unwanted pests. If I could show you this, perhaps I could, in some small way, help you understand what hundreds of these poor souls look like in buildings where people once sought God’s blessings, etc., but I won’t say more about their suffering. God have mercy on them—I can’t offer them any relief. If I had money, I would quickly help, but I have none for myself. I wrote to you through Mr. Wells to see if someone could lend me cash given my current needs. I won’t say more; even if I did, the General wouldn’t let it go out, and if you ever write to me, keep it very short, or I may never see it. What the Hessians stole from me that day was worth at least seventy-two dollars. I will give you as accurate a count as I can of how many prisoners the enemy has taken. They captured 64 from the Huntington Regiment on Long Island and 40 officers, about 60 from other regiments. On Moultrie Island, 14, Staten Island 7, at Fort Washington 2200 officers and men. On the Jersey side, about 28 officers and men. In total 3135, and I don’t know how many were killed. Many died from their wounds. Among those who left with me, due to sickness from hunger, eight and more are at death's door."
“Roger Filer hath lost one of his legs and part of a Thigh, it was his left. John Moody died here a prisoner.
“Roger Filer has lost one of his legs and part of a thigh; it was his left. John Moody died here as a prisoner.”
“So now to conclude my little Ragged History * * * I as you know did ever impress on your mind to look to God, for so still I continue to do the same—think less of me but more of your Creator, * * * So in this I wish you well and bid you farewell and subscribe myself your nearest friend and well wisher for Ever
“So now to wrap up my little Ragged History * * * I have always encouraged you to focus on God, and I still continue to do so—think less of me and more of your Creator, * * * So with this, I wish you well and say goodbye, signing off as your closest friend and well-wisher forever.”
John’a Gillett
John Gillett
New York, Dec. 2nd, 1776. To Eliza Gillett at West Harford
New York, Dec. 2, 1776. To Eliza Gillett in West Harford
The figures given in this pathetic letter may be inaccurate, but the description of the sufferings of the prisoners is unexaggerated. Of all the places of torment provided for these poor men the churches seem to have been the worst, and they were probably the scenes of the most brutal cruelty that was inflicted upon these unfortunate beings by the wicked and heartless men, in whose power they found themselves. Whether it was because the knowledge that they were thus desecrating buildings dedicated to the worship of God and instruction in the Christian duties of mercy and charity, had a peculiarly hardening effect upon the jailers and guards employed by the British, or whether it was merely because of their unfitness for human habitation, the men confined in these buildings perished fast and miserably. We cannot assert that no prisoners shut up in the churches in New York lived to tell the awful tale of their sufferings, but we do assert that in all our researches we have never yet happened upon any record of a single instance of a survivor living to reach his home. All the information we have gained on this subject we shall lay before the reader, and then he may form his own opinion of the justice of these remarks.
The numbers in this sad letter might not be accurate, but the account of the prisoners' suffering is not exaggerated. Among all the places of suffering set up for these unfortunate men, the churches appear to have been the worst. They likely witnessed the most brutal cruelty inflicted on these hapless individuals by the cruel and heartless men who held power over them. Whether it was because the knowledge that they were desecrating buildings meant for the worship of God and the teaching of Christian compassion and charity hardened the hearts of the British jailers and guards, or simply due to the unlivable conditions of those buildings, the men imprisoned there suffered and died quickly. We cannot claim that no prisoners confined in the churches in New York survived to share their horrific experiences, but we can say that in all our research, we have never found a record of even one survivor returning home. We will present all the information we've gathered on this topic to the reader, who can then decide for themselves how just these remarks are.
CHAPTER V. — WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM, THE PROVOST MARSHAL
We will condense all that we have to say of this man, whose cruelty and wickedness are almost inconceivable, into one chapter, and have done with the dreadful subject. As far as we have been able to learn, the facts about his life are the following.
We will summarize everything we need to say about this man, whose cruelty and wickedness are almost unimaginable, into one chapter so we can move on from this horrible topic. From what we've been able to find out, the facts about his life are as follows.
William Cunningham was an Irishman, born in Dublin Barracks in 1738. His father was a trumpeter in the Blue Dragoons. When he was sixteen he became an assistant to the riding-master of the troop. In 1761 he was made a sergeant of dragoons, but peace having been proclaimed the following year, the company to which he belonged was disbanded. He afterwards commenced the business of a scaw-banker, which means that he went about the country enticing mechanics and rustics to ship to America, on promise of having their fortunes made in that country; and then by artful practices, produced their indentures as servants, in consequence of which on their arrival in America they were sold, or at least obliged to serve a term of years to pay for their passage. This business, no doubt, proved a fit apprenticeship for the career of villainy before him.
William Cunningham was an Irishman, born in Dublin Barracks in 1738. His father was a trumpeter in the Blue Dragoons. When he was sixteen, he became an assistant to the riding master of the troop. In 1761, he was made a sergeant of dragoons, but when peace was declared the following year, his company was disbanded. He then started working as a scam banker, which meant he traveled the country convincing tradespeople and rural folks to move to America, promising that they would make their fortunes there. Then, through crafty methods, he presented their contracts as servants, resulting in them being sold upon their arrival in America or forced to work for several years to pay off their passage. This work undoubtedly served as a fitting apprenticeship for the life of crime that lay ahead of him.
About the year 1774 he appears to have embarked from Newry in the ship Needham for New York, with some indentured servants he had kidnapped in Ireland. He is said to have treated these poor creatures so cruelly on the passage that they were set free by the authorities in New York upon their arrival.
About 1774, he seems to have set sail from Newry on the ship Needham to New York, along with some indentured servants he had kidnapped in Ireland. It's said that he treated these unfortunate individuals so harshly during the journey that they were freed by the authorities in New York upon arrival.
When Cunningham first appeared in New York he offered himself as a horse-breaker, and insinuated himself into the favor of the British officers by blatant toryism. He soon became obnoxious to the Whigs of that city, was mobbed, and fled to the Asia man-of-war for protection. From thence he went to Boston, where General Gage appointed him Provost Marshal. When the British took possession of New York he followed them to that city, burning with desire to be revenged upon the Whigs.
When Cunningham first showed up in New York, he presented himself as a horse trainer and ingratiated himself with the British officers through obvious loyalty to the Crown. He quickly became disliked by the Whigs in the city, was attacked by a mob, and sought refuge on the Asia warship. From there, he went to Boston, where General Gage made him Provost Marshal. When the British took control of New York, he followed them there, eager for revenge against the Whigs.
He is said to have compassed the death of thousands of prisoners by selling their provisions, exchanging good for spoiled food, and even by poisoning them. Many also fell victims to his murderous violence. About two hundred and fifty of these poor creatures were taken out of their places of confinement at midnight and hung, without trial, simply to gratify his bloodthirsty instincts. Private execution was conducted in the following manner. A guard was first dispatched from the Provost, about midnight, to the upper barracks, to order the people on the line of march to shut their window shutters and put out their lights, forbidding them at the same time to presume to look out of their windows on pain of death. After this the prisoners were gagged, and conducted to the gallows just behind the upper barracks and hung without ceremony there. Afterwards they were buried by his assistant, who was a mulatto.
He is said to have caused the deaths of thousands of prisoners by selling their food supplies, swapping good provisions for spoiled ones, and even poisoning them. Many others fell victim to his violent ways. About two hundred and fifty of these unfortunate souls were taken from their cells at midnight and hanged, without trial, simply to satisfy his bloodlust. The private executions were carried out in the following way. A guard was first sent from the Provost around midnight to the upper barracks to instruct the people along the route to close their window shutters and turn off their lights, warning them that looking out of their windows would result in death. After this, the prisoners were gagged and taken to the gallows just behind the upper barracks, where they were hanged without any ceremony. Afterwards, they were buried by his assistant, who was a mixed-race man.
This practice is said to have been stopped by the women along the line of march from the Provost to the barracks. They appealed to General Howe to prevent further executions, as the noise made by the sufferers praying for mercy, and appealing to Heaven for justice was dreadful to their ears.
This practice is said to have been stopped by the women along the march from the Provost to the barracks. They urged General Howe to stop any more executions, as the cries of the victims praying for mercy and asking Heaven for justice were horrendous to hear.
It would seem from this account that, although the wretched men were gagged as they were conveyed along the streets, their ferocious murderer could not deny himself the pleasure of hearing their shrieks of agony at the gallows.
It appears from this account that, even though the miserable men were gagged as they were taken through the streets, their brutal killer couldn't resist the thrill of hearing their screams of pain at the gallows.
Watson, in his “Annals of New York,” says that Cunningham glutted his vengence by hanging five or six of his prisoners every night, until the women who lived in the neighborhood petitioned Howe to have the practice discontinued.
Watson, in his “Annals of New York,” says that Cunningham satisfied his revenge by hanging five or six of his prisoners every night, until the women who lived in the neighborhood asked Howe to put an end to the practice.
A pamphlet called “The Old Martyrs’ Prison,” says of Cunningham: “His hatred of the Americans found vent in torture by searing irons and secret scourges to those who fell under the ban of his displeasure. The prisoners were crowded together so closely that many fell ill from partial asphyxiation, and starved to death for want of the food which he sold to enrich himself.”
A pamphlet called “The Old Martyrs’ Prison” describes Cunningham: “His hatred of the Americans was expressed through torture with hot irons and hidden whips for anyone who incurred his wrath. The prisoners were packed in so tightly that many got sick from a lack of oxygen and starved to death because he sold the food to make himself rich.”
They were given muddy and impure water to drink, and that not in sufficient quantities to sustain life. Their allowance was, nominally, two pounds of hard tack and two of pork per week, and this was often uncooked, while either the pork, or the biscuit, or both, were usually spoiled and most unwholesome.
They were provided with muddy and dirty water to drink, and not enough of it to stay alive. Their ration was officially two pounds of hardtack and two pounds of pork per week, and this was often uncooked, with either the pork, the biscuits, or both usually spoiled and quite unhealthy.
Cunningham’s quarters were in the Provost Prison, and on the right hand of the main door of entry. On the left of the hall was the guard room. Within the first barricade was the apartment of his assistant, Sergeant O’Keefe. Two sentinels guarded the entrance day and night; two more were stationed at the first and second barricades, which were grated, barred, and chained.
Cunningham’s rooms were in the Provost Prison, right next to the main entrance. On the left side of the hallway was the guard room. Inside the first barricade was the office of his assistant, Sergeant O’Keefe. Two sentinels watched the entrance around the clock; two more were positioned at the first and second barricades, which were grated, locked, and chained.
“When a prisoner was led into the hall the whole guard was paraded, and he was delivered over to Captain Cunningham or his deputy, and questioned as to his name, age, size, rank, etc., all of which was entered in a record book. These records appear to have been discreetly destroyed by the British authorities.
“When a prisoner was brought into the hall, the entire guard was assembled, and he was handed over to Captain Cunningham or his deputy, who asked about his name, age, size, rank, and so on, all of which was recorded in a logbook. These records seem to have been quietly destroyed by the British authorities.”
“At the bristling of arms, unbolting of locks and bars, clanking of enormous iron chains in a vestibule dark as Erebus, the unfortunate captive might well sink under this infernal sight and parade of tyrannical power, as he crossed the threshold of that door which probably closed on him for life.
“At the sound of weapons, the opening of locks and bars, the clanking of huge iron chains in a vestibule as dark as night, the unfortunate prisoner might easily feel overwhelmed by this hellish sight and display of oppressive power as he stepped through the door that would likely shut on him for the rest of his life.”
“The north east chamber, turning to the left on the second floor, was appropriated to officers of superior rank, and was called Congress Hall. * * * In the day time the packs and blankets used by the prisoners to cover them were suspended around the walls, and every precaution was taken to keep the rooms clean and well ventilated.
“The northeast chamber, turning left on the second floor, was reserved for higher-ranking officers and was called Congress Hall. * * * During the day, the packs and blankets used by the prisoners for covering were hung around the walls, and every measure was taken to keep the rooms clean and well-ventilated.
“In this gloomy abode were incarcerated at different periods many American officers and citizens of distinction, awaiting with sickening hope the protracted period of their liberation. Could these dumb walls speak what scenes of anguish might they not disclose!
“In this bleak place were imprisoned at various times many American officers and notable citizens, anxiously hoping for the long-awaited moment of their freedom. If these silent walls could talk, what scenes of suffering would they reveal!”
“Cunningham and his deputy were enabled to fare sumptuously by dint of curtailing the prisoners’ rations, selling good for bad provisions, etc., in order to provide for the drunken orgies that usually terminated his dinners. Cunningham would order the rebel prisoners to turn out and parade for the amusement of his guests, pointing them out with such characterizations as ‘This is the d——d rebel, Ethan Allen. This is a rebel judge, etc.’”
“Cunningham and his deputy managed to live extravagantly by cutting the prisoners’ rations, swapping good food for bad provisions, and more, all to fund the drunken parties that often ended his dinners. Cunningham would have the rebel prisoners brought out to march for his guests' entertainment, labeling them with terms like ‘This is the damned rebel, Ethan Allen. This is a rebel judge,’ and so on.”
Cunningham destroyed Nathan Hale’s last letters containing messages to his loved ones, in order, as he said, that “the rebels should not know that they had a man in their army who could die with such firmness.”
Cunningham destroyed Nathan Hale’s last letters with messages to his loved ones, stating that “the rebels shouldn’t know that they had a man in their army who could die with such courage.”
From Elias Boudinot’s “Journal of Events” during the Revolution we extract the following account of his interview with Cunningham in New York. “In the spring of 1777 General Washington wrote me a letter requesting me to accept of a Commission as Commissary General of Prisoners in the Army of America. I waited on him and politely declined the task, urging the wants of the Prisoners and having nothing to supply them.”
From Elias Boudinot’s “Journal of Events” during the Revolution, we take the following account of his meeting with Cunningham in New York: “In the spring of 1777, General Washington wrote to me asking if I would accept a position as Commissary General of Prisoners in the Army of America. I met with him and respectfully declined the role, emphasizing the needs of the prisoners and having nothing to provide for them.”
Washington, however, urged him not to refuse, saying that if no one in whom he could trust would accept the office, the lot of the prisoners would be doubly hard. At last Boudinot consented to fill the position as best he could, and Washington declared that he should be supplied with funds by the Secret Committee of Congress. “I own,” he says, “that after I had entered on my department, the applications of the Prisoners were so numerous, and their distress so urgent, that I exerted every nerve to obtain supplies, but in vain—Excepting £600 I had received from the Secret Committee in Bills of exchange, at my first entrance into the Office—I could not by any means get a farthing more, except in Continental Money, which was of no avail in New York. I applied to the General describing my delicate Situation and the continual application of the Officers, painting their extreme distress and urging the assurance they had received that on my appointment I was to be furnished with adequate means for their full relief. The General appeared greatly distressed and assured me that it was out of his power to afford me any supplies. I proposed draining Clothing from the public stores, but to this he objected as not having anything like a sufficient supply for the Army. He urged my considering and adopting the best means in my power to satisfy the necessities of the Prisoners, and he would confirm them. I told him I knew of no means in my Power but to take what Monies I had of my own, and to borrow from my friends in New York, to accomplish the desirable purpose. He greatly encouraged me to the attempt, promising me that if I finally met with any loss, he would divide it with me. On this I began to afford them some supplies of Provisions over and above what the Enemy afforded them, which was very small and very indifferent.
Washington urged him not to decline, saying that if no one he could trust would take the job, the prisoners would suffer even more. Eventually, Boudinot agreed to take the position as best as he could, and Washington stated that the Secret Committee of Congress would provide him with funds. “I admit,” he says, “that after I started in my role, the prisoners’ requests were so frequent, and their plight so urgent, that I did everything I could to secure supplies, but to no avail—Aside from £600 I received from the Secret Committee in exchange bills when I first took office—I couldn’t get another penny, except in Continental Money, which was useless in New York. I asked the General for help, explaining my precarious situation and the continuous requests from the Officers, highlighting their extreme hardship and insisting on the promise I had received that I would be given adequate resources for their complete relief. The General looked very troubled and told me it was beyond his ability to provide me with any supplies. I suggested taking clothing from the public stores, but he said that there wasn’t enough to supply the Army. He urged me to consider and use whatever means I could to meet the prisoners’ needs, and he would back me up. I told him I had no options except to use my own money and borrow from friends in New York to achieve the goal. He encouraged me to try, promising that if I ended up losing anything, he would share the burden with me. Because of that, I began providing them with some extra food on top of what the Enemy gave them, which was very little and of poor quality.
“The complaints of the very cruel treatment our Prisoners met with in the Enemy’s lines rose to such a Heighth that in the Fall of this Year, 1777 the General wrote to General Howe or Clinton reciting their complaints and proposing to send an Officer into New York to examine into the truth of them. This was agreed to, and a regular pass-port returned accordingly. The General ordered me on this service. I accordingly went over on the 3rd of Feb. 1778, in my own Sloop.”
“The complaints about the awful treatment our prisoners received in the enemy’s camps became so intense that in the fall of 1777, the General wrote to General Howe or Clinton to detail their complaints and suggested sending an officer to New York to investigate the claims. This was agreed upon, and a formal passport was issued. The General assigned me to this task, and I went over on February 3, 1778, in my own sloop.”
The Commandant at this time was General Robertson, by whom Boudinot was very well treated, and allowed, in company with a British officer, to visit the prisons. He continues: “Accordingly I went to the Provost with the Officer, where we found near thirty Officers from Colonels downwards, in close confinement in the Gaol in New York. After some conversation with the late Ethan Allen, I told him my errand, on which he was very free in his abuse of the British. *** We then proceeded upstairs to the Room of their Confinement. I had the Officers drawn up in a Ring and informed them of my mission, that I was determined to hear nothing in secret. That I therefore hoped they would each of them in their turn report to me faithfully and candidly the Treatment they severally had received,—that my design was to obtain them the proper redress, but if they kept back anything from an improper fear of their keepers, they would have themselves only to blame for their want of immediate redress. That for the purpose of their deliverance the British officer attended. That the British General should be also well informed of the Facts. On this, after some little hesitation from a dread of their keeper, the Provost Martial, one of them began and informed us that * * * some had been confined in the Dungeon for a night to await the leisure of the General to examine them and forgot for months; for being Committee men, &c, &c. That they had received the most cruel Treatment from the Provost Martial, being locked up in the Dungeon on the most trifling pretences, such as asking for more water to drink on a hot day than usual—for sitting up a little longer in the Evening than orders allowed—for writing a letter to the General making their Complaints of ill-usage and throwing (it) out of the Windows. That some of them were kept ten, twelve, and fourteen weeks in the Dungeon on these trifling Pretenses. A Captain Vandyke had been confined eighteen months for being concerned in setting fire to the City, When, on my calling for the Provost Books, it appeared that he had been made Prisoner and closely confined in the Provost four days before the fire happened. A Major Paine had been confined eleven months for killing a Captain Campbell in the Engagement when he was taken Prisoner, when on examination it appeared that the Captain had been killed in another part of the Action. The charge was that Major Paine when taken had no commission, though acknowledged by us as a Major.
The Commandant at this time was General Robertson, who treated Boudinot very well and allowed him, along with a British officer, to visit the prisons. He continues: “So, I went to the Provost with the officer, where we found nearly thirty officers, from Colonels downwards, in close confinement in the Gaol in New York. After some conversation with the late Ethan Allen, I explained my purpose, at which point he freely expressed his disdain for the British. *** We then went upstairs to their confinement room. I had the officers gather in a circle and told them about my mission, emphasizing that I wanted to hear nothing in secret. I expressed my hope that each of them would candidly report the treatment they had received, with the goal of obtaining them proper redress. I warned them that if they held back out of fear of their keepers, they would have only themselves to blame for not getting immediate help. I explained that the British officer was there for their deliverance, and that the British General needed to be well-informed of the facts. After a little hesitation due to fear of their keeper, the Provost Martial, one officer started to speak and informed us that * * * some had been confined in the dungeon for a night awaiting the General's attention, only to be forgotten for months; this was due to their being Committee members, etc. They reported experiencing the most cruel treatment from the Provost Martial, being locked up in the dungeon for the slightest reasons, such as asking for extra water to drink on a hot day, sitting up a little longer in the evening than allowed, or writing a letter to the General to complain about their mistreatment and throwing it out of the windows. Some were kept in the dungeon for ten, twelve, and even fourteen weeks over these trivial matters. Captain Vandyke had been confined for eighteen months for being involved in a fire in the city, but when I called for the Provost logs, it turned out he had been made a prisoner and closely confined for four days before the fire occurred. Major Paine had been locked up for eleven months for allegedly killing Captain Campbell in the engagement when he was taken prisoner, but upon examination, it became clear that the Captain had been killed in another part of the battle. The charge against Major Paine was that he had no commission when taken, even though we recognized him as a Major.”
“Most of the cases examined into turned out wholly false or too trifling to be regarded. It also appeared by the Declaration of some of the Gentlemen that their water would be sometimes, as the Caprice of the Provost Martial led him, brought up to them in the tubs they used in their Rooms, and when the weather was so hot that they must drink or perish. On hearing a number of these instances of Cruelty, I asked who was the Author of them—they answered the provost keeper—I desired the Officer to call him up that we might have him face to face. He accordingly came in, and on being informed of what had passed, he was asked if the complaints were true. He, with great Insolence answered that every word was true—on which the British Officer, abusing him very much, asked him how he dared to treat Gentlemen in that cruel Manner. He, insolently putting his hands to his side, swore that he was as absolute there as General Howe was at the head of his Army. I observed to the Officer that now there could be no dispute about Facts, as the fellow had acknowledged every word to be true. I stated all the Facts in substance and waited again on General Robertson, who hoped I was quite satisfied with the falsity of the reports I had heard. I then stated to him the Facts and assured him that they turned out worse than anything we had heard. On his hesitating as to the truth of this assertion—I observed to him the propriety of having an Officer with me, to whom I now appealed for the truth of the Facts. He being present confirmed them—on which the General expressed great dissatisfaction, and promised that the Author of them should be punished. I insisted that the Officers should be discharged from his Power on Parole on Long Island, as other Officers were—To this after receiving from me a copy of the Facts I had taken down, he assented, & all were discharged except seven, who were detained some time before I could obtain their release. I forgot to mention that one Officer, Lieutenant—was taken Prisoner and brought in with a wound through the leg. He was sent to the Provost to be examined, next night he was put into the Dungeon and remained there ten weeks, totally forgotten by the General, and never had his wound dressed except as he washed it with a little Rum and Water given to him by the Centinels, through the—hole out of their own rations. Captain—and a Captain Chatham were confined with them and their allowance was four pounds hard spoiled Biscuit, and two pounds Pork per week, which they were obliged to eat raw. While they were thus confined for the slightest Complaints, the Provost Martial would come down and beat them unmercifully with a Rattan, and Knock them down with his fist. After this I visited two Hospitals of our Sick Prisoners, and the Sugar House:—in the two first were 211 Prisoners, and in the last about 190. They acknowledged that for about two months past they fared pretty well, being allowed two pounds of good Beef and a proportion of flour or Bread per week, by Mr. Lewis, My Agent, over and above the allowance received from the British, which was professed to be two thirds allowance; but before they had suffered much from the small allowance they had received, and and that their Bread was very bad, being mostly biscuit, but that the British soldiers made the same complaint as to the bread. From every account I received I found that their treatment had been greatly changed for the better within a few months past, except at the Provost. They all agreed that previous to the capture of General Burgoyne, and for some time after, Their treatment had been cruel beyond measure. That the Prisoners in the French church, amounting on an average to three or four hundred, could not all lay down at once, that from the 15th October to the first January they never received a single stick of wood, and that for the most part they eat their Pork Raw, when the Pews and Door, and Wood on Facings failed them for fuel.
“Most of the cases we looked into turned out to be completely false or too insignificant to take seriously. It also seemed from some of the Gentlemen's statements that their water would sometimes, depending on the whims of the Provost Martial, be brought to them in the tubs they used in their Rooms, especially when the weather was so hot that they had no choice but to drink or die. After hearing several of these stories of cruelty, I asked who was responsible for them—they replied it was the provost keeper. I asked the Officer to bring him in so we could confront him directly. He came in, and when informed of what had happened, he was asked if the complaints were true. He, with great arrogance, said that every word was true—upon which the British Officer, angrily rebuking him, asked how he dared to treat Gentlemen in such a cruel way. With a disrespectful posture, he swore that he was as powerful there as General Howe was at the head of his Army. I told the Officer that now there could be no doubt about the facts, as the man had admitted every word was true. I laid out all the facts and returned to General Robertson, who hoped I was completely satisfied with the untruth of the reports I had heard. I then presented him with the facts and assured him that the situation was worse than anything we had heard. When he hesitated to accept this, I suggested having an Officer with me, to whom I now appealed for the truth of the facts. The Officer present confirmed them—after which the General expressed great dissatisfaction and promised that the person responsible would be punished. I insisted that the Officers should be released on parole on Long Island, as others were—after receiving from me a copy of the facts I had noted down, he agreed, and all were released except for seven, who were held a bit longer before I could secure their freedom. I forgot to mention that one Officer, Lieutenant—was taken prisoner and brought in with a leg wound. He was sent to the Provost to be examined, and the next night he was thrown into the dungeon where he remained forgotten for ten weeks, without his wound being treated except when he washed it with a bit of Rum and Water given to him by the sentinels through a hole from their own rations. Captain—and Captain Chatham were also confined with them, and their allowance was four pounds of spoiled hard biscuit and two pounds of pork per week, which they had to eat raw. While they were confined for the slightest complaints, the Provost Martial would come down and beat them mercilessly with a rattan and punch them with his fists. After this, I visited two hospitals where our sick prisoners were held and the Sugar House: in the first two, there were 211 prisoners, and about 190 in the last. They said that for about the past two months, they had been treated fairly well, being allowed two pounds of good beef and a portion of flour or bread per week, thanks to Mr. Lewis, my agent, in addition to the British allowance, which was supposed to be two-thirds of a normal ration; however, before that, they had suffered greatly from a meager allowance and that their bread was very bad, mostly hard biscuit, but the British soldiers were also complaining about the bread. From every account I received, I found that their treatment had significantly improved in recent months, except at the Provost. They all agreed that before capturing General Burgoyne, and for some time after, their treatment had been unbearably cruel. The prisoners in the French church, averaging three or four hundred, couldn’t all lie down at once, and from October 15th to January 1st, they never received a single stick of wood for fuel, and for the most part, they had to eat their pork raw when the pews, doors, and wood were all gone.”
“But as to my own personal knowledge I found General Robertson very ready to agree to every measure for alleviating the miseries of War and very candidly admitted many faults committed by the inferior Officers, and even the mistakes of the General himself, by hearkening to the representations of those around him. He showed me a letter from General Howe who was in Philadelphia, giving orders that we should not be at liberty to purchase blankets within their lines, and containing a copy of an order I had issued that they should not purchase provisions within ours, by way of retaliation, but he represented it as if my order was first. I stated the facts to General Robertson, who assured me that General Howe had been imposed upon, and requested me to state the facts by way of letter, when he immediately wrote to General Howe, urging the propriety of reversing his orders, which afterwards he did in a very hypocritical manner as will appear hereafter.”
“But from my own experience, I found General Robertson very willing to agree to any measures that might ease the suffering caused by the War. He openly admitted many mistakes made by the lower-ranking officers and even acknowledged some errors by the General himself, due to listening to those around him. He showed me a letter from General Howe, who was in Philadelphia, ordering that we couldn’t buy blankets within their lines. It also included a copy of an order I had issued saying they couldn’t buy food within ours as retaliation, but he made it sound like my order came first. I explained the situation to General Robertson, who assured me that General Howe had been misled. He asked me to put the facts in a letter, and then he wrote to General Howe, urging him to reverse his orders, which Howe later did in a very insincere way, as will be detailed later.”
It does not seem that Cunningham was very seriously punished. It is probable that he was sent away from New York to Philadelphia, then in the hands of General Howe. Cunningham was Provost Marshal in that city during the British occupancy, where his cruelties were, if possible, more astrocious than ever before.
It doesn't seem like Cunningham faced much punishment. It's likely he was sent from New York to Philadelphia, which was then under General Howe's control. Cunningham served as the Provost Marshal in that city during the British occupation, where his cruelty was, if anything, even more horrific than before.
Dr. Albigense Waldo was a surgeon in the American army at Valley Forge, and he declares in his Journal concerning the prisoners in Philadelphia that “the British did not knock the prisoners in the head, or burn them with torches, or flay them alive, or dismember them as savages do, but they starved them slowly in a large and prosperous city. One of these unhappy men, driven to the last extreme of hunger, is said to have gnawed his own fingers to the first joint from the hand, before he expired. Others ate the mortar and stone which they chipped from the prison walls, while some were found with bits of wood and clay in their mouths, which in their death agonies they had sucked to find nourishment.” [Footnote: This account is quoted by Mr. Bolton in a recent book called “The Private Soldier under Washington,” a valuable contribution to American history.]
Dr. Albigense Waldo was a surgeon in the American army at Valley Forge, and he writes in his Journal about the prisoners in Philadelphia that “the British didn’t knock the prisoners out, or burn them with torches, or flay them alive, or dismember them like savages do, but they starved them slowly in a large and prosperous city. One of these poor men, pushed to the absolute limit of hunger, is said to have gnawed his own fingers to the first joint before he died. Others ate the mortar and stone they chipped from the prison walls, while some were found with bits of wood and clay in their mouths, which in their dying moments they had sucked to find nourishment.” [Footnote: This account is quoted by Mr. Bolton in a recent book called “The Private Soldier under Washington,” a valuable contribution to American history.]
Boudinot has something to say about these wretched sufferers in the City of Brotherly Love during the months of January and February, 1778. “Various Reports having reached us with regard to the Extreme Sufferings of our Prisoners in Philadelphia, I was directed by the Commander-in-Chief to make particular inquiry into the truth. After some time I obtained full Information of their Sufferings. It was proved by some Militia of good Character that on being taken they were put under the care of the General’s Guard, and kept four or five days without the least food. That on the fifth day they were taken into the Provost, where a small quantity of Raw Pork was given to them. One of their number seized and devoured it with so much eagerness that he dropped down dead:—that the Provost Martial used to sell their provisions and leave them to starve, as he did their Allowance of Wood. I received information from a British Officer who confided in my integrity, that he happened in the Provost just at the time the Provost Martial was locking up the Prisoners. He had ordered them from the Yard into the House. Some of them being ill with the Dysentery could scarcely walk, and for not coming faster he would beat them with his Rattan. One being delayed longer than the rest. On his coming up Cunningham gave him a blow with one of the large Keys of the Goal which killed him on the Spot. The Officer, exceedingly affected with the sight, went next day and lodged a formal Complaint of the Murder with General Howe’s Aid. After waiting some days, and not discovering any measures taken for the tryal of Cunningham, he again went to head quarters and requested to see the General, but was refused. He repeated his Complaint to his Aid, and told him if this passed unpunished it would become disreputable to wear a British uniform. No notice being taken the Officer determined to furnish me privately with the means of proof of the Facts, so that General Washington might remonstrate to General Howe on the subject:—I reported them with the other testimony I had collected to General Washington. He accordingly wrote in pretty strong Terms to General Howe and fixed a day, when if he did not receive a satisfactory answer, he would retaliate on the prisoners in his Custody. On the day he received an answer from General Howe, acknowledging that, on Examination he found that Cunningham had sold the Prisoners’ rations publicly in the Market. That he had therefor removed him from the Charge of the Prisoners and appointed Mr. Henry H. Ferguson in his place. This gave us great pleasure as we knew Mr. Ferguson to be a Gentleman of Character and great Humanity, and the issue justified our expectations. But to our great surprise Mr. Cunningham was only removed from the Charge of the Prisons in Philadelphia, and sent to that of New York. Soon after this great complaints being made of our Prisoners being likely to perish for want of Cloathing and Blankets, having been mostly stripped and robbed of their Cloaths when taken, application was made for permission to purchase (with the provisions which the British wanted,) Blankets and cloathing, which should be used only by the Prisoners while in Confinement. This was agreed to, as we were informed by our own Agent as well as by the British Commissioner. Provisions were accordingly attempted to be sent in, when General Howe pretending to ignorance in the business, forbid the provisions to be admitted, or the Blankets to be purchased. On this I gave notice to the British Commissary that after a certain day they must provide food for their prisoners south west of New Jersey, and to be sent in from their lines, as they should no longer be allowed to purchase provisions with us. The line drawn arose from our being at liberty to purchase in New York. This made a great noise, when General Howe on receiving General Robertson’s letter from New York before mentioned, urging the propriety of the measures, issued an order that every Person in Philadelphia, who had a Blanket to sell or to spare should bring them into the King’s Stores. When this was done he then gave my Agent permission to purchase Blankets and Cloathing, in the City of Philadelphia. On my Agent attempting it he found every Blanket in the City purchased by the Agents for the Army, so that not a Blanket could be had. My Agent knowing the necessities of our Prisoners, immediately employed persons in every part of the city and before General Howe could discover his own omission, purchased up every piece of flannel he could meet with, and made it up into a kind of Blanket, which answered our purpose.”
Boudinot has something to say about the miserable people in the City of Brotherly Love during January and February of 1778. “We received various reports about the extreme suffering of our prisoners in Philadelphia, and I was instructed by the Commander-in-Chief to look into the facts. After some time, I gathered complete information about their suffering. It was confirmed by some credible militia that after being captured, they were put in the care of the General’s Guard and left for four or five days without any food. On the fifth day, they were taken to the Provost, where they were given a small amount of raw pork. One of them grabbed it and devoured it so eagerly that he dropped dead. The Provost Martial was known to sell their provisions, leaving them to starve, as well as their allowance of wood. I received information from a British officer who trusted my integrity. He happened to be in the Provost just when the Provost Martial was locking up the prisoners. He had ordered them from the yard into the house. Some of them were sick with dysentery and could hardly walk, and for not moving faster, he would beat them with his rattan. One prisoner lagged behind, and as he approached, Cunningham struck him with one of the large keys of the jail, killing him instantly. The officer was deeply affected by what he saw, and the next day he filed a formal complaint about the murder with General Howe’s aide. After several days without any action taken against Cunningham, he returned to headquarters and requested to see the General but was denied. He repeated his complaint to the aide and warned that if this went unpunished, it would be disgraceful to wear a British uniform. With no action taken, the officer decided to secretly provide me with evidence of the facts so that General Washington could address General Howe about the situation. I reported these findings, along with other testimony I had collected, to General Washington. He then wrote a strong letter to General Howe, setting a deadline for a satisfactory response or else he would retaliate against prisoners in his custody. On the day he received a reply from General Howe, he acknowledged that, upon examination, he found Cunningham had sold the prisoners' rations publicly in the market. Due to this, he removed Cunningham from the care of the prisoners and appointed Mr. Henry H. Ferguson in his place. This was a relief to us since we knew Mr. Ferguson to be a man of character and great compassion, and the outcome confirmed our expectations. However, to our surprise, Cunningham was only removed from the charge of the prisons in Philadelphia and sent to New York instead. Shortly after, there were major complaints about our prisoners possibly dying from lack of clothing and blankets, as they had mostly been stripped and robbed of their clothes when captured. We requested permission to purchase (with the provisions the British needed) blankets and clothing that would only be used by the prisoners while in confinement. This was approved, as we were informed by both our agent and the British commissioner. Provisions were attempted to be sent in, but General Howe, feigning ignorance of the matter, prohibited the provisions from being accepted and the blankets from being purchased. In response, I notified the British commissary that after a certain date, they needed to provide food for their prisoners southwest of New Jersey and that it must come from their lines, as they would no longer be allowed to buy provisions from us. The line drawn was due to our ability to purchase in New York. This caused a commotion when General Howe, upon receiving General Robertson’s letter from New York urging the necessity of the measures, issued an order that everyone in Philadelphia with blankets to sell or spare should bring them to the King’s Stores. Once that was done, he then allowed my agent to buy blankets and clothing in the city. When my agent tried to do so, he found that every blanket in the city had been purchased by the military’s agents, leaving not a single blanket available. Knowing the urgent needs of our prisoners, my agent quickly hired people across the city, and before General Howe could notice his own negligence, he bought up every piece of flannel he could find and made it into a sort of blanket that served our purpose.”
Wherever General Howe and Cunningham were together, either in New York or in Philadelphia, the most atrocious cruelties were inflicted upon the American prisoners in their power, and yet some have endeavoured to excuse General Howe, on what grounds it is difficult to determine. It has been said that Cunningham acted on higher authority than any in America, and that Howe in vain endeavored to mitigate the sufferings of the prisoners. This, however, is not easy of belief. Howe must at least have wilfully blinded himself to the wicked and murderous violence of his subordinate. It was his duty to know how the prisoners at his mercy fared, and not to employ murderers to destroy them by the thousands as they were destroyed in the prisons of New York and Philadelphia.
Wherever General Howe and Cunningham were together, whether in New York or Philadelphia, the most horrific cruelties were inflicted on the American prisoners in their control, and yet some have tried to justify General Howe, though it's hard to understand why. It’s been said that Cunningham acted on higher authority than anyone in America, and that Howe tried in vain to lessen the prisoners' suffering. However, this is hard to believe. Howe must have intentionally turned a blind eye to the brutal and deadly actions of his subordinate. It was his responsibility to know how the prisoners under his care were treated and not to allow murderers to kill them by the thousands as they were in the prisons of New York and Philadelphia.
Oliver Bunce, in His “Romance of the Revolution,” thus speaks of the inhumanity of Cunningham.
Oliver Bunce, in his "Romance of the Revolution," describes the cruelty of Cunningham.
“But of all atrocities those committed in the prisons and prison ships of New York are the most execrable, and indeed there is nothing in history to excel the barbarities there inflicted. Twelve thousand suffered death by their inhuman, cruel, savage, and barbarous usage on board the filthy and malignant prison ships—adding those who died and were poisoned in the infected prisons in the city a much larger number would be necessary to include all those who suffered by command of British Generals in New York. The scenes enacted in these prisons almost exceed belief. * * * Cunningham, the like of whom, for unpitying, relentless cruelty, the world has not produced, * * * thirsted for blood, and took an eager delight in murder.”
“But of all the atrocities, those committed in the prisons and prison ships of New York are the most despicable, and there's really nothing in history that compares to the brutalities inflicted there. Twelve thousand people died due to the inhumane, cruel, savage treatment on board the filthy and vile prison ships—if you include those who died or were poisoned in the infected prisons in the city, the number would be much larger to capture everyone who suffered under the orders of British Generals in New York. The scenes that unfolded in these prisons are almost unbelievable. * * * Cunningham, the likes of whom the world has not seen for unfeeling, relentless cruelty, * * * thirsted for blood and took a twisted pleasure in murder.”
He remained in New York until November, 1783, when he embarked on board a British man-of-war and America was no longer cursed with his presence. He is said to have been hung for the crime of forgery on the tenth of August, 1791. The newspapers of the day contained the accounts of his death, and his dying confession. These accounts have, however, been discredited by historians who have in vain sought the English records for the date of his death. It is said that no man of the name of Cunningham was hung in England in the year 1791. It is not possible to find any official British record of his transactions while Provost Marshal, and there seems a mystery about the disappearance of his books kept while in charge of the Provost, quite as great as the mystery which envelopes his death. But whether or no he confessed his many crimes; whether or no he received in this world a portion of the punishment he deserved, it is certain that the crimes were committed, and duly recorded in the judgment book of God, before whose awful bar he has been called to account for every one of them.
He stayed in New York until November 1783 when he boarded a British warship, and America was finally free from his presence. It’s reported that he was hanged for forgery on August 10, 1791. The newspapers of that time published stories about his death and his dying confession. However, historians have discredited these accounts, having looked in vain through English records for the date of his death. It seems no one named Cunningham was hanged in England in 1791. There’s no official British record of his actions while Provost Marshal, and there’s a mystery surrounding the disappearance of his records from his time in charge that is just as puzzling as the circumstances of his death. Whether he confessed to his many crimes or faced any punishment in this life, it is certain that the crimes took place and have been noted in the judgment book of God, where he has now been called to answer for each one.
CHAPTER VI. — THE CASE OF JABEZ FITCH
In presenting our gleanings from the books, papers, letters, pamphlets, and other documents that have been written on the subject of our prisoners during the Revolution, we will endeavor to follow some chronological order, so that we may carry the story on month by month and year by year until that last day of the British possession of New York when Sergeant O’Keefe threw down upon the pavement of the Provost the keys of that prison, and made his escape on board a British man-of-war.
In sharing our findings from the books, articles, letters, pamphlets, and other materials written about our prisoners during the Revolution, we will try to maintain a chronological order, so we can narrate the story month by month and year by year until that final day of British control in New York, when Sergeant O’Keefe dropped the keys to that prison on the pavement of the Provost and made his escape on a British warship.
One of the prisoners taken on Long Island in the summer of 1776 was Captain Jabez Fitch, who was captured on the 27th of August, of that year. While a prisoner he contracted a scorbutic affection which rendered miserable thirty years of his life.
One of the prisoners taken on Long Island in the summer of 1776 was Captain Jabez Fitch, who was captured on August 27th of that year. While he was a prisoner, he developed a scurvy condition that caused him misery for thirty years of his life.
On the 29th of August he was taken to the transport Pacific. It was a very rainy day. The officers, of whom there were about twenty-five, were in one boat, and the men “being between three and four hundred in several other Boats, and had their hands tied behind them. In this Situation we were carried by several Ships, where there appeared great numbers of Women on Deck, who were very liberal of their Curses and Execrations: they were also not a little Noisy in their Insults, but clap’d their hands and used other peculiar gestures in so Extraordinary a Manner yet they were in some Danger of leaping overboard in this surprising Extacy.” On arriving at the Pacific, a very large transport ship, they were told that all officers and men together were to be shut down below deck. The master of the ship was a brute named Dunn. At sundown all were driven down the hatches, with curses and execrations. “Both ye lower Decks were very full of Durt,” and the rains had leaked in and made a dreadful sloppy mess of the floor, so that the mud was half over their shoes. At the same time they were so crowded that only half their number could lie down at a time.
On August 29th, he was taken to the transport ship Pacific. It was a very rainy day. The officers, about twenty-five of them, were in one boat, while the men, between three and four hundred, were in several other boats with their hands tied behind their backs. In this situation, we were transported by several ships, where there were a large number of women on deck who were very vocal with their curses and insults. They were quite noisy with their taunts, clapping their hands and making other dramatic gestures, to the point where they seemed to be in danger of jumping overboard in their surprising excitement. Upon arriving at the Pacific, a very large transport ship, we were told that all officers and men would be confined below deck. The captain of the ship was a cruel man named Dunn. At sundown, everyone was forcibly shoved down the hatches amid curses and insults. “Both the lower decks were very full of dirt,” and rain had leaked in, creating a terrible mess on the floor, so that mud covered half their shoes. At the same time, they were so cramped that only half of them could lie down at once.
“Some time in the Evening a number of the Infernal Savages came down with a lanthorn and loaded two small pieces or Cannon with Grape shot, which were pointed through two Ports in such a manner as to Rake ye deck where our people lay, telling us at ye same time with many Curses yt in Case of any Disturbance or the least noise in ye Night, they were to be Imediately fired on ye Damned Rebels.” When allowed to come on deck “we were insulted by those Blackguard Villians in the most vulgar manner....We were allowed no water that was fit for a Beast to Drink, although they had plenty of good Water on board, which was used plentifully by the Seamen, etc.
“Some time in the evening, several of the savage crew came down with a lantern and loaded two small cannons with grapeshot, aimed through two openings to rake the deck where we were lying. They cursed at us, saying that in case of any disturbance or even the slightest noise during the night, they would immediately fire at the damned rebels.” When we were allowed on deck, “we were insulted by those despicable villains in the most vulgar way.... We weren't given any water that was fit for an animal to drink, even though they had plenty of good water on board, which the sailors used generously, etc.”
“Lieutenant Dowdswell, with a party of Marines sent on board for our Guard; this Mr. Dowdswell treated us with considerable humanity, and appeared to be a Gentleman, nor were the Marines in General so Insolent as the Ships Crew....On the 31st the Commissary of Prisoners came on Board and took down the names, etc, of the prisoners....he told us Colonel Clark and many other Officers were confined at Flatbush. On Sunday, September 1st, we were removed to the ship Lord Rochford, commanded by one Lambert. This ship was much crowded. Most of the Officers were lodged on the quarter deck. Some nights we were considerably wet with rain.”
“Lieutenant Dowdswell, along with a group of Marines sent on board for our Guard, treated us with a lot of kindness. He seemed like a true gentleman, and the Marines were generally less rude than the ship's crew. On the 31st, the Commissary of Prisoners came on board and took down the names and other information of the prisoners. He informed us that Colonel Clark and many other officers were held at Flatbush. On Sunday, September 1st, we were transferred to the ship Lord Rochford, commanded by a man named Lambert. This ship was quite crowded. Most of the officers were housed on the quarterdeck. Some nights, we got pretty wet from the rain.”
The Lord Rochford lay off New Utrecht. On the third of September the officers that had been confined at Flatbush were brought on board the snow called the Mentor. “On the fifth,” says Fitch, in his written account, of which this is an abstract, “we were removed on board this Snow, which was our prison for a long time. * * * We were about 90 in number, and ye Field Officers had Liberty of ye Cabbin, etc. * * * This Snow was commanded by one Davis, a very worthless, low-lived fellow. * * * When we first met on board the Mentor we spent a considerable time in Relating to each other ye particular Circumstances of our first being Taken, and also ye various Treatment with which we met on yt occasion, nor was this a disagreeable Entertainment in our Melancholy Situation. * * * Many of the officers and men were almost Destitute of Clothes, several having neither Britches, Stockings or Shoes, many of them when first taken were stripped entirely naked. Corporal Raymond of the 17th Regiment after being taken and Stripped was shamefully insulted and Abused by Gen’l Dehightler, seized by ye Hair of his head, thrown on the ground, etc. Some present, who had some small degree of humanity in their Composition, were so good as to favor them (the prisoners) with some old durty worn Garments, just sufficient to cover their nakedness, and in this Situation (they) were made Objects of Ridicule for ye Diversion of those Foreign Butchers.
The Lord Rochford was anchored off New Utrecht. On September 3rd, the officers who had been held at Flatbush were brought on board the snow called the Mentor. “On the fifth,” Fitch notes in his written account, of which this is a summary, “we were transferred to this snow, which was our prison for a long time. * * * There were about 90 of us, and the field officers had the freedom of the cabin, etc. * * * This snow was commanded by a man named Davis, a very worthless, low-life individual. * * * When we first gathered on board the Mentor, we spent a considerable amount of time sharing the details of how we were first captured and the various treatments we experienced during that time, which was not an unpleasant way to pass the time in our gloomy situation. * * * Many of the officers and men were almost out of clothes, with several having neither pants, stockings, nor shoes; many of them had been stripped completely naked when they were taken. Corporal Raymond of the 17th Regiment, after being captured and stripped, was shamefully insulted and abused by General Dehightler, who grabbed him by the hair and threw him to the ground, etc. Some present, who had a small degree of humanity in them, were kind enough to give the prisoners some old dirty worn garments, just enough to cover their nakedness, and in this situation, they became targets of ridicule for the amusement of those foreign butchers.
“One Sam Talman (an Indian fellow belonging to the 17th Regiment) was Stripped and set up as a mark for them to Shoot at for Diversion or Practice, by which he Received two severe wounds, in the neck and arm * * * afterwards they destroyed him with many hundreds others by starvation in the prisons of New York.
“One Sam Talman (an Indian man from the 17th Regiment) was stripped and used as a target for them to shoot at for fun or practice, which resulted in him receiving two serious wounds, in the neck and arm. Later, they killed him along with many hundreds of others through starvation in the prisons of New York.”
“On October first orders came to land the prisoners in New York. This was not done until the seventh. On Monday about four o’clock Mr. Loring conducted us to a very large house on the West side of Broadway in the corner south of Warren Street near Bridewell, where we were assigned a small yard back of the house, and a Stoop in ye Front for our Walk. We were also Indulged with Liberty to pass and Repass to an adjacent pump in Ye Street.”
“On October 1st, orders arrived to land the prisoners in New York. This didn’t happen until the 7th. On Monday, around 4 o’clock, Mr. Loring took us to a very large house on the West side of Broadway at the corner south of Warren Street near Bridewell, where we were assigned a small yard behind the house and a stoop in the front for our walks. We were also given the freedom to go back and forth to a nearby pump in the street.”
Although paroled the officers were closely confined in this place for six weeks. Their provisions, he says: “were insufficient to preserve ye Connection between Soul and Body, yet ye Charitable People of this City were so good as to afford us very considerable Relief on this account, but it was ye poor and those who were in low circumstances only who were thoughtful of our Necessities, and provisions were now grown scarce and Excessive dear. * * * Their unparalleled generosity was undoubtedly ye happy means of saving many Lives, notwithstanding such great numbers perished with hunger.
Although they were paroled, the officers were kept in this place for six weeks. Their supplies, he says, “were not enough to keep the connection between soul and body, yet the charitable people of this city were generous enough to provide us with significant relief in this regard. However, it was only the poor and those in difficult situations who were mindful of our needs, and provisions had become scarce and extremely expensive. * * * Their incredible generosity was undoubtedly the reason many lives were saved, even though so many still perished from hunger.”
“Here we found a number of Officers made prisoners since we were, Colonel Selden, Colonel Moulton, etc. They were first confined in Ye City Hall. Colonel Selden died the Fryday after we arrived. He was Buried in the New Brick Churchyard, and most of the Officers were allowed to attend his Funeral. Dr. Thatcher of the British army attended him, a man of great humanity.”
“Here we found several officers who had been imprisoned since we last were here, including Colonel Selden and Colonel Moulton. They were initially kept at City Hall. Colonel Selden died the Friday after we arrived. He was buried in the new brick churchyard, and most of the officers were allowed to attend his funeral. Dr. Thatcher from the British army was there, a man known for his kindness.”
Captain Fitch declares that there were two thousand wounded British and Hessians in the hospitals in New York after the battle of Fort Washington, which is a much larger estimate than we have found in other accounts. He says that the day of the battle was Saturday, November 16th, and that the prisoners were not brought to New York until the Monday following. They were then confined in the Bridewell, as the City Jail was then called, and in several churches. Some of them were soon afterwards sent on board a prison ship, which was probably the Whitby. “A number of the officers were sent to our place of confinement; Colonel Rawlings, Colonel Hobby, Major (Otho) Williams, etc. Rawlings and Williams were wounded, others were also wounded, among them Lieutenant Hanson (a young Gent’n from Va.) who was Shot through ye Shoulder with a Musq’t Ball of which wound he Died ye end of Dec’r.
Captain Fitch states that there were two thousand wounded British and Hessians in the hospitals in New York after the battle of Fort Washington, which is a much higher estimate than what we’ve seen in other accounts. He mentions that the day of the battle was Saturday, November 16th, and that the prisoners weren’t brought to New York until the following Monday. They were then held in the Bridewell, which is what the City Jail was called at that time, and in several churches. Some of them were later sent to a prison ship, likely the Whitby. “A number of the officers were sent to our place of confinement; Colonel Rawlings, Colonel Hobby, Major (Otho) Williams, etc. Rawlings and Williams were injured, and others were also hurt, including Lieutenant Hanson (a young gentleman from Virginia) who was shot through the shoulder with a musket ball, and he died from that wound at the end of December.
“Many of ye charitable Inhabitants were denied admittance when they came to Visit us.”
“Many of you kind residents were turned away when you came to visit us.”
On the twentieth of November most of the officers were set at liberty on parole. “Ye first Objects of our attention were ye poor men who had been unhappily Captivated with us. They had been landed about ye same time yt we were, and confined in several Churches and other large Buildings and although we had often Received Intelligence from them with ye most Deplorable Representation of their Miserable Situation, yet when we came to visit them we found their sufferings vastly superior to what we had been able to conceive. Nor are words sufficient to convey an Adequate Idea of their Unparalled Calamity. Well might ye Prophet say, ‘They yt be slain with ye sword are better than they yt be slain with hunger, for these pine away, etc.’
On November 20th, most of the officers were released on parole. “The first thing we focused on was the poor men who had been unfortunate enough to be captured with us. They had been brought ashore around the same time we were and held in various churches and other large buildings. Even though we had often received information from them detailing their terrible situation, when we went to visit, we discovered their suffering was far worse than we had imagined. Words cannot adequately express their unparalleled misery. Truly, the Prophet could say, ‘Those who die by the sword are better off than those who die of hunger, for the latter waste away, etc.’”
“Their appearance in general Rather Resembled dead Corpses than living men. Indeed great numbers had already arrived at their long home, and ye Remainder appeared far advanced on ye same Journey: their accommodations were in all respects vastly Inferior to what a New England Farmer would have provided for his Cattle, and although ye Commissary pretended to furnish them with two thirds of ye allowance of ye King’s Troops, yet they were cheated out of one half of that. They were many times entirely neglected from Day to Day, and received no Provision at all; they were also frequently Imposed upon in Regard to ye Quality as well as Quantity of their provision. Especially in the Necessary article of Bread of which they often received such Rotten and mouldy stuff, as was entirely unfit for use.
“Their overall appearance resembled dead bodies more than living people. In fact, many had already reached their final resting place, and the rest seemed well on their way there too. Their living conditions were far worse than what a New England farmer would provide for his livestock, and even though the Commissary claimed to give them two-thirds of what the King’s Troops received, they were cheated out of half of that. They were often completely ignored day after day and received no food at all; they were also frequently taken advantage of regarding both the quality and quantity of their provisions. Especially in the case of bread, they often received such rotten and moldy food that it was completely unfit for consumption."
“* * * A large number of ye most feeble were Removed down to ye Quaker Meeting House on Queen Street, where many hundreds of them perished in a much more miserable Situation than ye dumb Beasts, while those whose particular business it was to provide them relief, paid very little or no attention to their unparalleled sufferings. This house I understand was under ye Superintendence of one Dr. Dibuke * * * who had been at least once convicted of stealing (in Europe) and had fled to this country for protection: It was said he often made application of his Cane among ye Sick instead of other medicines. * * * I have often been in danger of being stabbed for attempting to speak to a prisoner in ye yard. * * *
“* * * A lot of the weakest were moved to the Quaker Meeting House on Queen Street, where many hundreds of them died in a much worse situation than the dumb animals, while those whose job it was to help them paid very little or no attention to their incredible suffering. This house was, as I understand, overseen by a Dr. Dibuke * * * who had been convicted of theft (in Europe) and fled to this country for safety: It was said that he often used his cane on the sick instead of other medicines. * * * I have often been in danger of being stabbed for trying to talk to a prisoner in the yard. * * *
“About the 24th December a large number of prisoners were embarked on a ship to be sent to New England. What privates of the 17th Regiment remained living were Included in this number, but about one half had already perished in Prison. I was afterwards informed that the Winds being unfavourable and their accommodations and provisions on board ye Ship being very similar to what they had been provided with before, a large proportion of them perished before they could reach New England, so that it is to be feared very few of them lived to see their native homes.
“On December 24th, a large number of prisoners were put on a ship to be sent to New England. The soldiers from the 17th Regiment who were still alive were included in this group, but about half of them had already died in prison. I later heard that due to bad winds and the conditions and provisions on the ship being similar to what they had before, a significant number of them died before reaching New England, so it's likely very few of them made it back to their homes.”
“Soon after there was large numbers of the prisoners sent off by land both to the Southward and Eastward so yt when ye Officers were Removed over into Long Island in the latter part of January there remained but very few of the privates in that City except those released by Death which number was supposed to be about 1800.
“Soon after, many prisoners were sent off by land both to the south and east, so that when the officers were moved over to Long Island in late January, very few privates remained in that city except for those who had died, which was estimated to be about 1,800.”
“General Robertson, so famous for Politeness and Humanity was commanding Officer at New York during the aforesaid treatment of the prisoners. Governor Scheene was said to have visited the prisoners at the Churches and manifested great dissatisfaction at their ill Usage, yet I was never able to learn that ye poor Sufferers Rec’d any Advantage thereby.”
“General Robertson, known for his Politeness and Humanity, was the commanding Officer in New York during the treatment of the prisoners mentioned earlier. Governor Scheene was reported to have visited the prisoners at the Churches and showed great dissatisfaction at their mistreatment, yet I could never find out if the poor Sufferers gained any benefit from it.”
Captain Jabez Fitch was a prisoner eighteen months. After the Revolution he lived in Vermont, where he died in 1812.
Captain Jabez Fitch was a prisoner for eighteen months. After the Revolution, he lived in Vermont, where he passed away in 1812.
CHAPTER VII. — THE HOSPITAL DOCTOR—A TORY’S ACCOUNT OF NEW YORK IN 1777—ETHAN ALLEN’S
ACCOUNT OF THE PRISONERS
PRISONERS' ACCOUNT
The doctor spoken of by Jabez Fitch as Dr. Dibuke is perhaps the notorious character described by Mr. Elias Boudinot in the Journal from which we have already quoted. On page 35 of this book he gives us the following:
The doctor mentioned by Jabez Fitch as Dr. Dibuke is likely the infamous character described by Mr. Elias Boudinot in the Journal we've already referenced. On page 35 of this book, he shares the following:
“AN ACCOUNT OF THE FRENCHMAN WHO POISONED. AMERICAN PRISONERS IN NEW YORK, AND WAS REWARDED FOR SO DOING BY GENERAL, HOWE
“AN ACCOUNT OF THE FRENCHMAN WHO POISONED AMERICAN PRISONERS IN NEW YORK, AND WAS REWARDED FOR IT BY GENERAL HOWE
“When the British Army took possession of New York they found a Frenchman in Goal, under Condemnation for Burglery and Robbery. He was liberated. He was a very loos, ignorant man. Had been a Servant. This fellow was set over our Prisoners in the Hospital, as a Surgeon, though he knew not the least principle of the Art. Dr. McHenry, a Physician of note in the American Army, and then a Prisoner, finding the extreme ignorance of this man, and that he was really murdering our people, remonstrated to the British Director of the Hospital, and refused visiting our sick Prisoners if this man was not dismissed. A British Officer, convinced that he had killed several of our People, lodged a complaint against him, when he was ordered to be tryed by a Court Martial, but the morning before the Court were to set, this Officer was ordered off to St Johns, and the Criminal was discharged for want of Evidence. During this man having the Charge of our Prisoners in the Hospital, two of our Men deserted from the Hospital and came into our Army when they were ordered to me for Examination. They Joined in this story. That they were sick in the Hospital under the care of the above Frenchman. That he came and examined them, and gave to each of them a dose of Physick to be taken immediately. A Young Woman, their Nurse, made them some private signs not to take the Physick immediately. After the Doctor was gone, she told them she suspected the Powder was poison. That she had several times heard this Frenchman say that he would have ten Rebels dead in such a Room and five dead in such a Room the next morning, and it always so happened. They asked her what they should do: She told them their only chance was to get off, sick as they were, that she would help them out and they must shift for themselves. They accordingly got off safe, and brought the Physick with them. This was given to a Surgeon’s Mate, who afterwards reported that he gave it to a Dog, and that he died in a very short time. I afterwards saw an account in a London Paper of this same Frenchman being taken up in England for some Crime and condemned to dye. At his Execution he acknowledged the fact of his having murdered a great number of Rebels in the Hospitals at New York by poyson. That on his reporting to General Howe the number of the Prisoners dead, he raised his pay. He further confessed that he poisoned the wells used by the American Flying Camp, which caused such an uncommon Mortality among them in the year 1776.”
“When the British Army took control of New York, they found a Frenchman in jail, condemned for burglary and robbery. He was released. He was a very loose, ignorant man who had been a servant. This guy was put in charge of our prisoners in the hospital as a surgeon, even though he didn’t know the first thing about the job. Dr. McHenry, a well-known physician in the American Army, who was then a prisoner, realized this man’s extreme ignorance and that he was actually killing our people. He complained to the British director of the hospital and refused to treat our sick prisoners if this man wasn’t removed. A British officer, convinced that this man had caused the deaths of several of our people, filed a complaint against him, and he was set to be tried by a court martial. However, the morning before the court was to start, this officer was sent off to St. Johns, and the criminal was released due to lack of evidence. While this man was in charge of our prisoners in the hospital, two of our men escaped from the hospital and joined our army. When they were sent to me for questioning, they shared this story. They said they were sick in the hospital under the care of the aforementioned Frenchman. He came to check on them and gave each of them a dose of medicine to take right away. A young woman, their nurse, made them some signals not to take the medicine immediately. After the doctor left, she told them she suspected the powder was poison. She had heard this Frenchman say several times that he wanted ten rebels dead in one room and five dead in another room by the next morning, and it always happened. They asked her what they should do. She told them their only chance was to escape, sick as they were, that she would help them out and they had to figure the rest out themselves. They managed to escape safely and brought the medicine with them. This was given to a surgeon’s assistant, who later reported that he gave it to a dog, and the dog died shortly after. I later saw a report in a London newspaper about this same Frenchman being arrested in England for some crime and sentenced to death. At his execution, he admitted to murdering a lot of rebels in the hospitals in New York with poison. He claimed that after reporting to General Howe the number of dead prisoners, he got a pay raise. He also confessed that he poisoned the wells used by the American Flying Camp, which caused an unusual mortality rate among them in 1776.”
Jabez Fitch seems to have been mistaken in thinking that General Robertson instead of Lord Howe was commanding in New York at this time.
Jabez Fitch appears to have been wrong in believing that General Robertson, rather than Lord Howe, was in charge in New York at this time.
We will now give the account written by a Tory gentleman, who lived in New York during a part of the Revolution, of Loring, the Commissary of Prisons, appointed by General Howe in 1776. Judge Thomas Jones was a noted loyalist of the day. Finding it inconvenient to remain in this country after the war, he removed to England, where he died in 1792, having first completed his “History of New York during the Revolution.” He gives a much larger number of prisoners in that city in the year 1776 than do any of the other authorities. We will, however, give his statements just as they were written.
We will now share the account written by a Tory gentleman who lived in New York during part of the Revolution, about Loring, the Commissary of Prisons, appointed by General Howe in 1776. Judge Thomas Jones was a well-known loyalist at the time. Finding it difficult to stay in this country after the war, he moved to England, where he died in 1792, having first completed his “History of New York during the Revolution.” He lists a significantly higher number of prisoners in that city in 1776 than any other sources. We will present his statements exactly as he wrote them.
“Upon the close of the campaign in 1776 there were not less than 10,000 prisoners (Sailors included) within the British lines in New York. A Commissary of Prisoners was therefore appointed, and one Joshua Loring, a Bostonian, was commissioned to the office with a guinea a day, and rations of all kinds for himself and family. In this appointment there was reciprocity. Loring had a handsome wife. The General, Sir William Howe, was fond of her. Joshua made no objections. He fingered the cash: the General enjoyed Madam. Everybody supposing the next campaign (should the rebels ever risk another) would put a final period to the rebellion. Loring was determined to make the most of his commission and by appropriating to his own use nearly two thirds of the rations allowed the prisoners, he actually starved to death about three hundred of the poor wretches before an exchange took place, and which was not until February, 1777, and hundreds that were alive at the time were so emaciated and enfeebled for the want of provisions, that numbers died on the road on their way home, and many lived but a few days after reaching their habitations. The war continuing, the Commissaryship of Prisoners grew so lucrative that in 1778 the Admiral thought proper to appoint one for naval prisoners. Upon the French War a Commissary was appointed for France. When Spain joined France another was appointed for Spain. When Great Britain made war upon Holland a Commissary was appointed for Dutch prisoners. Each had his guinea a day, and rations for himself and family. Besides, the prisoners were half starved, as the Commissaries filched their provisions, and disposed of them for their own use. It is a known fact, also, that whenever an exchange was to take place the preference was given to those who had, or could procure, the most money to present to the Commissaries who conducted the exchange, by which means large sums of money were unjustly extorted and demanded from the prisoners at every exchange, to the scandal and disgrace of Britons. We had five Commissaries of Prisoners, when one could have done all the business. Each Commissary had a Deputy, a Clerk, a Messenger in full pay, with rations of every kind.”
“By the end of the campaign in 1776, there were at least 10,000 prisoners (including sailors) within the British lines in New York. A Commissary of Prisoners was therefore appointed, and one Joshua Loring, a Bostonian, was given the position with a guinea a day and rations of all kinds for himself and his family. This arrangement had its perks. Loring had a beautiful wife whom General Sir William Howe took a liking to. Joshua didn’t mind; he pocketed the cash while the General enjoyed the company of Madame. Everyone assumed the next campaign (if the rebels dared to try again) would finally end the rebellion. Loring was determined to benefit from his role. By taking nearly two-thirds of the rations meant for the prisoners, he caused around three hundred of the unfortunate souls to starve to death before an exchange happened, which didn’t take place until February 1777. Many of those who survived were so emaciated and weak from lack of food that they died on their way home, and others lived just a few days after getting back to their families. As the war dragged on, the position of Commissary of Prisoners became so profitable that in 1778 the Admiral decided to appoint one for naval prisoners. With the onset of the French War, a Commissary was assigned for France. When Spain joined France, another was appointed for Spain. When Great Britain declared war on Holland, a Commissary was assigned for Dutch prisoners. Each received a guinea a day and rations for themselves and their families. Moreover, the prisoners were half-starved because the Commissaries stole their provisions for personal use. It's also a known fact that whenever an exchange was about to happen, preference was given to those who had, or could gather, the most money to offer the Commissaries managing the exchange. This resulted in large sums of money being unfairly extorted from the prisoners at every exchange, bringing shame and disgrace to the British. We had five Commissaries of Prisoners when one could have handled all the work. Each Commissary had a Deputy, a Clerk, and a Messenger on full pay, with rations of every kind.”
As Judge Jones was an ardent Tory we would scarcely imagine that he would exaggerate in describing the corruptions of the commissaries. He greatly deplored the cruelties with which he taxed General Howe and other officials, and declared that these enormities prevented all hopes of reconciliation with Great Britain.
As Judge Jones was a passionate Tory, we can hardly believe that he would exaggerate when describing the corruptions of the commissaries. He strongly lamented the harshness with which he pressured General Howe and other officials, asserting that these wrongdoings dashed any hopes of reconciliation with Great Britain.
We will next quote from the “Life of Ethan Allen,” written by himself, as he describes the condition of the prisoners in the churches in New York, more graphically than any of his contemporaries.
We will now quote from the “Life of Ethan Allen,” written by him, as he describes the situation of the prisoners in the churches in New York, more vividly than any of his contemporaries.
ETHAN ALLEN’S ACCOUNT OF THE AMERICAN PRISONERS
ETHAN ALLEN’S ACCOUNT OF THE AMERICAN PRISONERS
“Our number, about thirty-four, were all locked up in one common large room, without regard to rank, education, or any other accomplishment, where we continued from the setting to the rising sun, and as sundry of them were infected with the gaol and other distempers, the furniture of this spacious room consisted principally of excrement tubs. We petitioned for a removal of the sick into hospitals, but were denied. We remonstrated against the ungenerous usage of being confined with the privates, as being contrary to the laws and customs of nations, and particularly ungrateful in them, in consequence of the gentleman-like usage which the British imprisoned officers met with in America; and thus we wearied ourselves petitioning and remonstrating, but o no purpose at all; for General Massey, who commanded at Halifax, was as inflexible as the d—-l himself. * * * Among the prisoners were five who had a legal claim to a parole, James Lovel, Esq; Captain Francis Proctor; a Mr. Rowland, Master of a Continental armed vessel; a Mr. Taylor, his mate, and myself. * * * The prisoners were ordered to go on board of a man-of-war, which was bound for New York, but two of them were not able to go on board and were left in Halifax: one died and the other recovered. This was about the 12th of October, 1776. * * * We arrived before New York and cast an anchor the latter part of October, where we remained several days, and where Captain Smith informed me that he had recommended me to Admiral Howe, and General Sir Wm. Howe, as a gentleman of honor and veracity, and desired that I might be treated as such. Captain Burk was then ordered on board a prison ship in the harbor. I took my leave of Captain Smith, and with the other prisoners was sent on board a transport ship. * * * Some of the last days of November the prisoners were landed at New York, and I was admitted to parole with the other officers, viz: Proctor, Rowland, and Taylor. The privates were put into the filthy churches in New York, with the distressed prisoners that were taken at Fort Washington, and the second night Sergeant Roger Moore, who was bold and enterprising, found means to make his escape, with every of the remaining prisoners that were taken with me, except three who were soon after exchanged: so that out of thirty-one prisoners who went with me the round exhibited in these sheets, two only died with the enemy, and three only were exchanged, one of whom died after he came within our lines. All the rest at different times made their escape from the enemy.
“Our group, around thirty-four of us, were all locked up in one large common room, regardless of rank, education, or any other achievements. We spent our days from sunset to sunrise in this place, and since some of us were sick with jail-related conditions, the only furniture in this spacious room was mainly excrement tubs. We asked to move the sick ones to hospitals, but our request was denied. We protested against the unfair treatment of being confined with common prisoners, arguing that it went against the laws and customs of nations and was particularly ungrateful given the respectful treatment British officers received in America. We exhausted ourselves with petitions and protests, but it was all for nothing; General Massey, who was in charge at Halifax, was as unyielding as the devil himself. Among the prisoners were five of us with a legal claim to parole: James Lovel, Esq.; Captain Francis Proctor; Mr. Rowland, the Master of a Continental armed vessel; Mr. Taylor, his mate; and myself. We were ordered to board a warship heading for New York, but two of us couldn’t make it and were left behind in Halifax: one died, and the other recovered. This was around the 12th of October, 1776. We arrived near New York and anchored there in late October, staying for several days. During that time, Captain Smith told me he had recommended me to Admiral Howe and General Sir Wm. Howe as a man of honor and integrity and requested that I be treated accordingly. Captain Burk was then sent aboard a prison ship in the harbor. I said goodbye to Captain Smith and, along with the other prisoners, was transferred to a transport ship. Toward the end of November, we were landed in New York, and I was granted parole along with the other officers: Proctor, Rowland, and Taylor. The common soldiers were placed in filthy churches in New York, along with the unfortunate prisoners captured at Fort Washington. On the second night, Sergeant Roger Moore, who was brave and resourceful, managed to escape with all the remaining prisoners who had been captured with me, except for three who were soon exchanged. Out of the thirty-one prisoners who joined me on this journey, only two died in enemy hands, and only three were exchanged, one of whom died after returning to our lines. All the others managed to escape from the enemy at different times."
“I now found myself on parole, and restricted to the limits of the city of New York, where I soon projected means to live in some measure agreeable to my rank, though I was destitute of cash. My constitution was almost worn out by such a long and barbarous captivity. * * * In consequence of a regular diet and exercise my blood recruited, and my nerves in a great measure recovered their former tone * * * in the course of six months.
"I found myself on parole and limited to the boundaries of New York City, where I quickly started planning ways to live somewhat comfortably according to my status, even though I was broke. My health was nearly destroyed after such a long and brutal captivity. * * * Thanks to a proper diet and exercise, my strength improved, and my nerves largely regained their former stability * * * over the next six months."
“* * * Those who had the misfortune to fall into the enemy’s hands at Fort Washington * * * were reserved from immediate death to famish and die with hunger: in fine the word rebel’ was thought by the enemy sufficient to sanctify whatever cruelties they were pleased to inflict, death itself not excepted. * * *
“* * * Those who were unfortunate enough to be captured by the enemy at Fort Washington * * * were spared immediate death only to starve and die of hunger: in short, the term 'rebel' was considered by the enemy enough to justify any cruelties they chose to inflict, including death itself. * * *
“The prisoners who were brought to New York were crowded into churches, and environed with slavish Hessian guards, a people of a strange language * * * and at other times by merciless Britons, whose mode of communicating ideas being unintelligible in this country served only to tantalize and insult the helpless and perishing; but above all the hellish delight and triumph of the tories over them, as they were dying by hundreds. This was too much for me to bear as a spectator; for I saw the tories exulting over the dead bodies of their countrymen. I have gone into the churches and seen sundry of the prisoners in the agonies of death, in consequence of very hunger; and others speechless and near death, biting pieces of chips; others pleading, for God’s sake for something to eat, and at the same time shivering with the cold. Hollow groans saluted my ears, and despair seemed to be imprinted on every of their countenances. The filth in these churches, in consequence of the fluxes, was almost beyond description. I have carefully sought to direct my steps so as to avoid it, but could not. They would beg for God’s sake for one copper or morsel of bread. I have seen in one of the churches seven dead, at the same time, lying among the excrements of their bodies.
“The prisoners who were brought to New York were crammed into churches, surrounded by slave-like Hessian guards, who spoke a strange language * * * and at other times by cruel Britons, whose way of communicating was incomprehensible in this country and only served to taunt and insult the helpless and dying; but above all, it was the hellish delight and triumph of the tories over them as they were dying by the hundreds. This was too much for me to witness; I saw the tories reveling in the dead bodies of their fellow countrymen. I went into the churches and saw several of the prisoners suffering in their final moments due to starvation; others were speechless and close to death, chewing on pieces of wood; some were pleading, for God’s sake, for something to eat, while trembling from the cold. Hollow groans reached my ears, and despair was etched into every one of their faces. The filth in these churches, due to sickness, was almost beyond description. I tried hard to avoid it, but could not. They would beg for God’s sake for a penny or a bit of bread. I saw, in one of the churches, seven dead bodies lying among the filth of their own making.”
“It was a common practice with the enemy to convey the dead from these filthy places in carts, to be slightly buried, and I have seen whole gangs of tories making derision, and exulting over the dead, saying ‘There goes another load of d——d rebels!’ I have observed the British soldiers to be full of their blackguard jokes and vaunting on those occasions, but they seemed to me to be less malignant than the Tories.
“It was common for the enemy to transport the dead from these filthy areas in carts for a quick burial, and I have seen entire groups of Loyalists mocking and celebrating over the dead, saying ‘There goes another load of damn rebels!’ I noticed that the British soldiers were full of their crude jokes and bragging during those times, but they didn’t seem as vicious as the Loyalists."
“The provision dealt out to the prisoners was by no means sufficient for the support of life. It was deficient in Quantity, and much more so in Quality. The prisoners often presented me with a sample of their bread, which I certify was damaged to such a degree that it was loathsome and unfit to be eaten, and I am bold to aver it as my opinion, that it had been condemned and was of the very worst sort. I have seen and been fed upon damaged bread, in the course of my captivity, and observed the quality of such bread as has been condemned by the enemy, among which was very little so effectually spoiled as what was dealt out to these prisoners. Their allowance of meat, as they told me, was quite trifling and of the basest sort. I never saw any of it, but was informed, bad as it was, it was swallowed almost as quick as they got hold of it. I saw some of them sucking bones after they were speechless; others who could yet speak and had the use of their reason, urged me in the strongest and most pathetic manner, to use my interest in their behalf: ‘For you plainly see,’ said they, ‘that we are devoted to death and destruction,’ and after I had examined more particularly into their truly deplorable condition and had become more fully apprized of the essential facts, I was persuaded that it was a premeditated and systematized plan of the British council to destroy the youths of our land, with a view thereby to deter the country and make it submit to their despotism: but as I could not do them any material service, and by any public attempt for that purpose I might endanger myself by frequenting places the most nauseous and contagious that could be conceived of, I refrained going into the churches, but frequently conversed with such of the prisoners as were admitted to come out into the yard, and found that the systematical usage still continued. The guard would often drive me away with their fixed bayonets. A Hessian one day followed me five or six rods, but by making use of my legs, I got rid of the lubber.
“The food given to the prisoners was nowhere near enough to sustain life. It was lacking in quantity and even more in quality. The prisoners often showed me their bread, which I can confirm was so damaged that it was disgusting and unfit to eat. I boldly state that it was spoiled and of the very worst kind. I have had damaged bread during my captivity and noted that very little of it was as bad as what was given to these prisoners. They told me their meat portions were tiny and of the lowest quality. I never saw any of it, but I was told that, despite its awful condition, it was gobbled down almost as soon as they got it. I saw some of them sucking on bones after they could no longer speak; others who still had their voice and reason urged me strongly and passionately to help them: ‘For you can clearly see,’ they said, ‘that we are doomed to death and destruction.’ After I looked more closely into their truly terrible situation and understood the essential facts better, I became convinced that it was a deliberate and systematic plan by the British council to eliminate the youth of our country to force the nation into submission to their tyranny. Since I couldn’t help them significantly and any public efforts on my part might put me at risk by exposing me to the most repulsive and infectious places imaginable, I avoided going into the churches, but I frequently talked with the prisoners who were allowed out into the yard, and found that the systematic mistreatment was still happening. The guards would often drive me away with their fixed bayonets. One day, a Hessian followed me for five or six yards, but I managed to escape by using my legs.”
“Sometimes I could obtain a little conversation notwithstanding their severities.
“Sometimes I could manage to have a little conversation despite their strictness.
“I was in one of the yards and it was rumoured among those in the church, and sundry of the prisoners came with their usual complaints to me, and among the rest a large-boned, tall young man, as he told me from Pennsylvania, who was reduced to a mere skeleton. He said he was glad to see me before he died, which he had expected to have done last night, but was a little revived. He further informed me that he and his brother had been urged to enlist into the British army, but had both resolved to die first; that his brother had died last night, in consequence of that resolve, and that he expected shortly to follow him; but I made the other prisoners stand a little off and told him with a low voice to enlist; he then asked whether it was right in the sight of God? I assured him that it was, and that duty to himself obliged him to deceive the British by enlisting and deserting the first opportunity; upon which he answered with transport that he would enlist. I charged him not to mention my name as his adviser, lest it should get air and I should be closely confined, in consequence of it.
“I was in one of the yards, and it was rumored among those in the church. Various prisoners came to me with their usual complaints, including a tall, large-boned young man who said he was from Pennsylvania and looked like a mere skeleton. He told me he was glad to see me before he died, which he thought would happen the night before, but he felt a little better. He also mentioned that he and his brother had been pressured to join the British army, but they both decided they would rather die first. His brother had died the previous night because of that decision, and he expected to follow him soon. I told the other prisoners to step back and quietly advised him to enlist. He then asked if it was right in God's eyes. I assured him it was, and that he had a duty to himself to deceive the British by enlisting and deserting at the first chance. He responded eagerly that he would enlist. I cautioned him not to mention my name as his adviser, so it wouldn’t get out and lead to me being locked up because of it.”
“The integrity of these suffering prisoners is incredible. Many hundreds of them, I am confident, submitted to death rather than enlist in the British service, which, I am informed, they most generally were pressed to do. I was astonished at the resolution of the two brothers, particularly; it seems that they could not be stimulated to such exertions of heroism from ambition, as they were but obscure soldiers. Strong indeed must the internal principle of virtue be which supported them to brave death, and one of them went through the operation, as did many hundreds others * * * These things will have their proper effect upon the generous and brave.
“The strength of these suffering prisoners is amazing. Many hundreds of them, I’m sure, chose death over joining the British army, which I’ve heard they were often forced to do. I was particularly impressed by the determination of the two brothers; it seems they weren't driven to such acts of heroism out of ambition, as they were just ordinary soldiers. The internal principle of virtue that supported them to face death must have been incredibly strong, and one of them underwent the operation, just like many hundreds of others. These things will resonate with the noble and courageous.”
“The officers on parole were most of them zealous, if possible, to afford the miserable soldiers relief, and often consulted with one another on the subject, but to no effect, being destitute of the means of subsistence which they needed, nor could they project any measure which they thought would alter their fate, or so much as be a mean of getting them out of those filthy places to the privilege of fresh air. Some projected that all the officers should go in procession to General Howe and plead the cause of the perishing soldiers, but this proposal was negatived for the following reasons: viz: because that General Howe must needs be well acquainted and have a thorough knowledge of the state and condition of the prisoners in every of their wretched apartments, and that much more particular and exact than any officer on parole could be supposed to have, as the General had a return of the circumstances of the prisoners by his own officers every morning, of the number who were alive, as also of the number who died every twenty-four hours: and consequently the bill of mortality, as collected from the daily returns, lay before him with all the material situations and circumstances of the prisoners, and provided the officers should go in procession to General Howe, according to the projection, it would give him the greatest affront, and that he would either retort upon them, that it was no part of their parole to instruct him in his conduct to prisoners; that they were mutinying against his authority, and, by affronting him, had forfeited their parole, or that, more probably, instead of saying one word to them, would order them all into as wretched a confinement as the soldiers whom they sought to relieve, for at that time the British, from the General to the private centinel, were in full confidence, nor did they so much as hesitate, but that they should conquer the country.
The parole officers were usually eager to help the suffering soldiers and often discussed ways to do so, but it was pointless because they lacked the resources needed for survival. They couldn’t come up with any plan that might change their situation or even help them escape from those filthy places to enjoy some fresh air. Some suggested that all the officers should march to General Howe and advocate for the starving soldiers, but this idea was rejected for several reasons: first, General Howe must already be well aware of the state and conditions of the prisoners in their miserable cells, more so than any officer on parole could possibly know, as the General received daily reports from his own officers about the number of prisoners alive and those who died every twenty-four hours. Consequently, the mortality rate, gathered from those daily reports, was laid out in front of him with all the critical details about the prisoners. Furthermore, if the officers were to go in procession to General Howe as proposed, it would deeply insult him, and he might either respond by saying it was not their place to critique how he handled prisoners, accusing them of mutiny against his authority and stating they had forfeited their parole, or more likely, without saying a word, he would send them into just as dreadful a confinement as the soldiers they were trying to help. At that time, the British, from the General to the lowest private, were completely confident and didn’t hesitate at all about their impending victory over the country.
“Thus the consultation of the officers was confounded and broken to pieces, in consequence of the dread which at the time lay on their minds of offending General Howe; for they conceived so murderous a tryant would not be too good to destroy even the officers on the least pretence of an affront, as they were equally in his power with the soldiers; and as General Howe perfectly understood the condition of the private soldiers, it was argued that it was exactly such as he and his council had devised, and as he meant to destroy them it would be to no purpose for them to try to dissuade him from it, as they were helpless and liable to the same fate, on giving the least affront. Indeed anxious apprehensions disturbed them in their then circumstances.
“Thus the officers' discussion was thrown into chaos and fell apart because they were so worried about offending General Howe. They thought such a ruthless tyrant wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate even his officers over the slightest perceived insult, as they were just as vulnerable as the soldiers. Since General Howe fully understood the plight of the regular soldiers, they believed that it was exactly the kind of situation he and his advisors had created. Given that he intended to wipe them out, it would be pointless for them to try to change his mind, as they were helpless and faced the same doom for any minor affront. Indeed, their current situation was filled with anxious worries.”
“Meantime mortality raged to such an intolerable degree among the prisoners that the very school boys in the street knew the mental design of it in some measure; at least they knew that they were starved to death. Some poor women contributed to their necessity till their children were almost starved; and all persons of common understanding knew that they were devoted to the cruellest and worst of deaths.
“Meanwhile, death was so rampant among the prisoners that even the school kids in the street were somewhat aware of it; at the very least, they knew that the prisoners were being starved to death. Some desperate women did their best to help, even as their children were nearly starving; and everyone with a bit of common sense understood that the prisoners were facing the most brutal and horrific deaths.”
“It was also proposed by some to make a written representation of the condition of the soldiery, and the officers to sign it, and that it should be couched in such terms, as though they were apprehensive that the General was imposed upon by his officers, in their daily returns to him of the state and condition of the prisoners, and that therefor the officers moved with compassion, were constrained to communicate to him the facts relative to them, nothing doubting but that they would meet with a speedy redress; but this proposal was most generally negatived also, and for much the same reason offered in the other case; for it was conjectured that General Howe’s indignation would be moved against such officers as should attempt to whip him over his officers’ backs; that he would discern that he himself was really struck at, and not the officers who made the daily returns; and therefor self preservation deterred the officers from either petitioning or remonstrating to General Howe, either verbally or in writing; as also they considered that no valuable purpose to the distressed would be obtained.
“It was also suggested by some to create a written account of the soldiers' situation, signed by the officers, framed in a way that implied concern that the General was being misled by his officers in their daily reports on the status of the prisoners. The officers, moved by compassion, felt compelled to share the truth with him, confident that it would lead to quick action. However, this proposal was largely rejected for the same reasons as before; it was thought that General Howe would be angered by any officers trying to undermine him through their superiors. He would realize that he was the target of the criticism, not the officers providing the daily updates. Thus, self-preservation prevented the officers from petitioning or formally complaining to General Howe, whether in person or in writing, as they also believed it would not achieve any real benefit for those suffering.”
“I made several rough drafts on the subject, one of which I exhibited to the Colonels Magaw, Miles, and Atlee; and they said that they would consider the matter. Soon after I called on them, and some of the gentlemen informed me that they had written to the General on the subject, and I concluded that the gentlemen thought it best that they should write without me, as there was such spirited aversion subsisting between the British and me.”
“I created several rough drafts on the topic, one of which I showed to Colonels Magaw, Miles, and Atlee; and they said they would think about it. Shortly after, I visited them, and some of the gentlemen told me they had written to the General about it. I figured that they thought it was better to write without me, given the strong hostility between the British and me.”
Ethan Allen goes on to say: “Our little army was retreating in New Jersey and our young men murdered by hundreds in New York.” He then speaks of Washington’s success at Trenton in the following terms: “This success had a mighty effect on General Howe and his council, and roused them to a sense of their own weakness. * * * Their obduracy and death-designing malevolence in some measure abated or was suspended. The prisoners, who were condemned to the most wretched and cruellest of deaths, and who survived to this period, though most of them died before, were immediately ordered to be sent within General Washington’s lines, for an exchange, and in consequence of it were taken out of their filthy and poisonous places of confinement, and sent out of New York to their friends in haste. Several of them fell dead in the streets of New York, as they attempted to walk to the vessels in the harbor, for their intended embarkation. What number lived to reach the lines I cannot ascertain, but, from concurrent representations which I have since received from numbers of people who lived in and adjacent to such parts of the country, where they were received from the enemy, I apprehend that most of them died in consequence of the vile usage of the enemy. Some who were eye witnesses of the scene of mortality, more especially in that part which continued after the exchange took place, are of opinion that it was partly in consequence of a slow poison; but this I refer to the doctors who attended them, who are certainly the best judges.
Ethan Allen continues: “Our small army was retreating in New Jersey and our young men were slaughtered by the hundreds in New York.” He then discusses Washington’s success at Trenton like this: “This victory had a huge impact on General Howe and his advisors, making them realize their own weaknesses. * * * Their stubbornness and deadly intentions were somewhat reduced or put on hold. The prisoners, who were marked for the most miserable and brutal deaths, and who survived until now, even though most of them died earlier, were immediately ordered to be sent inside General Washington’s lines for an exchange, and as a result were pulled from their filthy and toxic prisons and hurried out of New York to their friends. Several of them collapsed in the streets of New York as they tried to walk to the ships in the harbor for their planned departure. I can’t confirm how many made it to the lines, but based on what I've heard from many people living in and near the areas where they were taken from the enemy, I fear that most of them died due to the horrible treatment by the enemy. Some eyewitnesses of the death scene, especially in the aftermath of the exchange, believe it was partly due to a slow poison; but I'll leave that to the doctors who treated them, as they are surely the best judges.”
“Upon the best calculation I have been able to make from personal knowledge, and the many evidences I have collected in support of the facts, I learn that, of the prisoners taken on Long Island and Fort Washington and some few others, at different times and places, about two thousand perished with hunger, cold, and sickness, occasioned by the filth of their prisons, at New York; and a number more on their passage to the continental lines; most of the residue who reached their friends having received their death wound, could not be restored by the assistance of their physicians and friends: but like their brother prisoners, fell a sacrifice to the relentless and scientific barbarity of the British. I took as much pains as the circumstances would admit of to inform myself not only of matters of fact, but likewise of the very design and aims of General Howe and his council, the latter of which I predicated on the former, and submit it to the candid public.”
“Based on the best estimates I can gather from my personal experiences and the many pieces of evidence I've collected, I found that about two thousand prisoners taken on Long Island, Fort Washington, and a few others at different times and locations suffered and died from hunger, cold, and illness caused by the terrible conditions of their prisons in New York. Many more died during their journey to the continental lines. Most of those who reached their families had already sustained injuries that their doctors and loved ones couldn’t heal. Like their fellow prisoners, they fell victim to the brutal and calculated cruelty of the British. I made every effort possible under the circumstances to learn not only the facts but also the true intentions and goals of General Howe and his council, which I based on those facts, and I present it to the public to consider.”
CHAPTER VIII. — THE ACCOUNT OF ALEXANDER GRAYDON
One of the most interesting and best memoirs of revolutionary times is that written by Alexander Graydon, and as he was taken prisoner at Fort Washington, and closely connected with the events in New York during the winter of 1776-7, we will quote here his account of his captivity.
One of the most intriguing and well-written memoirs from revolutionary times is by Alexander Graydon. Since he was captured at Fort Washington and was closely involved with the events in New York during the winter of 1776-1777, we will share his account of his imprisonment here.
He describes the building of Fort Washington in July of 1776 by the men of Magaw’s and Hand’s regiments. General Putnam was the engineer. It was poorly built for defence, and not adapted for a siege.
He talks about the construction of Fort Washington in July 1776 by the troops of Magaw’s and Hand’s regiments. General Putnam was the engineer. It was built poorly for defense and wasn't suitable for a siege.
Graydon was a captain in Colonel Shee’s Regiment, but, for some reason or other, Shee went home just before the battle was fought, and his troops were commanded by Cadwallader in his stead. Graydon puts the number of privates taken prisoner at 2706 and the officers at about 210. Bedinger, as we have already seen, states that there were 2673 privates and 210 officers. He was a man of painstaking accuracy, and it is quite probable that his account is the most trustworthy. As one of the privates was Bedinger’s own young brother, a boy of fifteen, whom he undoubtedly visited as often as possible, while Graydon only went once to the prisons, perhaps Bedinger had the best opportunities for computing the number of captives.
Graydon was a captain in Colonel Shee’s Regiment, but for some reason, Shee returned home just before the battle, and his troops were led by Cadwallader in his place. Graydon estimates that 2,706 privates were taken prisoner and around 210 officers. Bedinger, as we’ve already noted, reports that there were 2,673 privates and 210 officers. He was known for his meticulous accuracy, so it's likely that his account is the most reliable. Since one of the privates was Bedinger’s own younger brother, a fifteen-year-old boy whom he certainly visited as often as he could, while Graydon only went to the prisons once, Bedinger probably had the best chances of counting the number of captives.
Graydon says that Colonel Rawlings was, some time late in the morning of the 16th of November, attacked by the Hessians, when he fought with great gallantry and effect as they were climbing the heights, until the arms of the riflemen became useless from the foulness they contracted from the frequent repetition of their fire.
Graydon says that Colonel Rawlings was attacked by the Hessians late in the morning on November 16th. He fought bravely and effectively as they were climbing the heights, until the riflemen's firearms became ineffective due to the buildup from their repeated firing.
Graydon, himself, becoming separated from his own men, mistook a party of Highlanders for them, and was obliged to surrender to them. He was put under charge of a Scotch sergeant, who said to him and his companion, Forrest: “Young men, ye should never fight against your King!”
Graydon, having become separated from his own troops, mistook a group of Highlanders for them and had to surrender. He was placed in the custody of a Scottish sergeant, who said to him and his companion, Forrest: “Young men, you should never fight against your King!”
Just then a British officer rode up at full gallop exclaiming, “What! taking prisoners! Kill them, Kill every man of them!”
Just then, a British officer rode up at full speed, shouting, “What! Taking prisoners! Kill them! Kill every last one of them!”
“My back was towards him when he spoke,” says Graydon, “and although by this time there was none of that appearance of ferocity in the guard which would induce much fear that they would execute his command, I yet thought it well enough to parry it, and turning to him, I took off my hat, saying, ‘Sir, I put myself under your protection!’
“My back was to him when he spoke,” Graydon says, “and even though by then the guard didn’t seem very fierce and I wasn't too worried about them following his orders, I figured it was best to protect myself. So, I turned to him, took off my hat, and said, ‘Sir, I’m putting myself under your protection!’”
“No man was ever more effectually rebuked. His manner was instantly softened; he met my salutation with an inclination of his body, and after a civil question or two, as if to make amends for his sanguinary mandate, rode off towards the fort, to which he had enquired the way.
“No man was ever more effectively put in his place. His attitude quickly softened; he acknowledged my greeting with a slight bow, and after exchanging a few polite questions, seemingly to make up for his harsh order, he rode off toward the fort, which he had asked for directions to.”
“Though I had delivered up my arms I had not adverted to a cartouche box which I wore about my waist, and which, having once belonged to his British Majesty, presented in front the gilded letters, G. R. Exasperated at this trophy on the body of a rebel, one of the soldiers seized the belt with great violence, and in the act to unbuckle it, had nearly jerked me off my legs. To appease the offended loyalty of the honest Scot I submissively took it off and handed it to him, being conscious that I had no longer any right to it. At this moment a Hessian came up. He was not a private, neither did he look like a regular officer. He was some retainer, however, to the German troops, and as much of a brute as any one I have ever seen in human form. The wretch came near enough to elbow us, and, half unsheathing his sword, with a countenance that bespoke a most vehement desire to use it against us, he grunted out in broken English, ‘Eh! you rebel! you damn rebel!’
“Even though I had surrendered my weapons, I hadn't realized I was still wearing a cartridge box around my waist, which had once belonged to his British Majesty, marked on the front with the gilded letters G. R. Frustrated by this trophy on the body of a rebel, one of the soldiers grabbed the belt roughly, nearly yanking me off my feet while trying to unbuckle it. To ease the wounded pride of the honest Scot, I obediently took it off and handed it to him, knowing I no longer had any claim to it. At that moment, a Hessian approached. He wasn't a private, nor did he look like a regular officer. He was some kind of servant to the German troops, and as much of a brute as anyone I've ever seen in human form. The scoundrel got close enough to elbow us, and half-drawing his sword, with a face that showed he had a strong urge to use it against us, he grunted out in broken English, 'Eh! you rebel! you damn rebel!'”
“I had by this time entire confidence in our Scotchmen, and therefore regarded the caitiff with the same indifference that I should have viewed a caged wild beast, though with much greater abhorrence. * * *
“I had by this time complete confidence in our Scotsmen, and so I looked at the coward with the same indifference I would have shown towards a caged wild animal, though with much greater disgust. * * *
“We were marched to an old stable, where we found about forty or fifty prisoners already collected, principally officers, of whom I only particularly recollect Lieutenant Brodhead of our battalion. We remained on the outside of the building; and, for nearly an hour, sustained a series of the most intolerable abuse. This was chiefly from the officers of the light infantry, for the most part young and insolent puppies, whose worthlessness was apparently their recommendation to a service, which placed them in the post of danger, and in the way of becoming food for powder, their most appropriate destination next to that of the gallows. The term ‘rebel,’ with the epithet ‘damned’ before it, was the mildest we received. We were twenty times told, sometimes with a taunting affectation of concern, that we should every man of us be hanged. * * * The indignity of being ordered about by such contemptible whipsters, for a moment unmanned me, and I was obliged to apply my handkerchief to my eyes. This was the first time in my life that I had been the victim of brutal, cowardly oppression, and I was unequal to the shock; but my elasticity of mind was soon restored, and I viewed it with the indignant contempt it deserved.
“We were taken to an old stable, where we found about forty or fifty other prisoners already gathered, mostly officers, and the only one I really remember is Lieutenant Brodhead from our battalion. We stood outside the building for nearly an hour, enduring a barrage of the most unbearable abuse. This mostly came from the young and arrogant officers of the light infantry, whose uselessness seemed to be what qualified them for a role that put them in harm's way, destined to become cannon fodder, their most fitting end next to the gallows. Being called a ‘rebel,’ often with the added ‘damned’ in front, was the most polite insult we received. We were told countless times, sometimes with a mock concern, that each one of us would be hanged. * * * The humiliation of being bossed around by such despicable bullies momentarily broke me, and I had to use my handkerchief to wipe my eyes. This was the first time in my life I had faced brutal, cowardly oppression, and I wasn't prepared for it; but soon my mental resilience returned, and I regarded it with the scorn it truly deserved.”
“For the greater convenience of guarding us we were now removed to the barn of Colonel Morris’s house, which had been the head-quarters of our army. * * * It was a good, new building. * * * There were from a hundred and fifty to two hundred, comprising a motley group, to be sure. Men and officers of all descriptions, regulars and militia, troops continental and state, and some in hunting shirts, the mortal aversion of a red coat. Some of the officers had been plundered of their hats, and some of their coats, and upon the new society into which we were introduced, with whom a showy exterior was all in all, we were certainly not calculated to make a very favorable impression. I found Captain Tudor here, of our regiment, who, if I mistake not, had lost his hat. * * * It was announced, by an huzza, that the fort had surrendered.
“For our convenience and protection, we were moved to the barn at Colonel Morris’s house, which had been the headquarters of our army. * * * It was a nice, new building. * * * There were between one hundred and fifty to two hundred people, making for quite a diverse group. Men and officers of all kinds, both regulars and militia, from Continental and state troops, and some in hunting shirts, which were deeply disliked by redcoats. Some officers had lost their hats and coats, and given the new crowd we were now part of, whose appearance was everything, we probably didn’t make the best impression. I found Captain Tudor from our regiment here, who I think had also lost his hat. * * * A cheer went up to announce that the fort had surrendered.”
“The officer who commanded the guard in whose custody we now were, was an ill-looking, low-bred fellow of this dashing corps of light infantry. * * * As I stood as near as possible to the door for the sake of air, the enclosure in which we were being extremely crowded and unpleasant, I was particularly exposed to his brutality; and repelling with some severity one of his attacks, for I was becoming desperate and careless of safety, the ruffian exclaimed, ‘Not a word, sir, or damme, I’ll give you my butt!’ at the same time clubbing his fusee, and drawing it back as if to give the blow, I fully expected it, but he contented himself with the threat. I observed to him that I was in his power, and disposed to submit to it, though not proof against every provocation. * * * There were several British officers present, when a Serjeant-Major came to take an account of us, and particularly a list of such of us as were officers. This Serjeant, though not uncivil, had all that animated, degagè impudence of air, which belongs to a self complacent, non-commissioned officer of the most arrogant army in the world; and with his pen in his hand and his paper on his knee applied to each of us in his turn for his rank. * * * The sentinels were withdrawn to the distance of about ten or twelve feet, and we were told that such of us as were officers might walk before the door. This was a great relief to us.”
The officer in charge of the guard we were currently with was an unpleasant, low-class guy from this flashy light infantry unit. As I stood as close to the door as I could for some fresh air—since the area we were in was extremely crowded and uncomfortable—I was particularly vulnerable to his cruelty. After firmly pushing back against one of his attacks, feeling desperate and reckless, the thug shouted, "Not a word, sir, or damn it, I’ll hit you!" while raising his gun like he was about to strike. I expected the blow, but he settled for just the threat. I pointed out to him that I was at his mercy and willing to submit, although I wasn’t immune to any provocation. There were several British officers there when a Sergeant Major came to account for us, especially wanting a list of those of us who were officers. This Sergeant, while not rude, had that self-satisfied, casual arrogance typical of a non-commissioned officer from the most arrogant army in the world. With his pen in hand and paper on his knee, he asked each of us in turn about our ranks. The sentries stepped back about ten or twelve feet, and we were told that those of us who were officers could walk in front of the door. This was a big relief to us.
The officers were lodged in the barn loft quite comfortably. A young Lieutenant Beckwith had them in charge, and was a humane gentleman. In the evening he told them he would send them, if possible, a bottle of wine, but at any rate, a bottle of spirits. He kept his word as to the spirits, which was all the supper the party in the loft had. “In the morning a soldier brought me Mr. B.‘s compliments, and an invitation to come down and breakfast with him. * * * I thankfully accepted his invitation, and took with me Forrest and Tudor. * * * He gave us a dish of excellent coffee, with plenty of very good toast, which was the only morsel we had eaten for the last twenty-four hours. * * * Our fellow sufferers got nothing until next morning. * * *
The officers were settled in the barn loft quite comfortably. A young Lieutenant Beckwith was in charge and was a kind gentleman. In the evening, he told them he would try to send a bottle of wine, but at the very least, a bottle of spirits. He kept his promise about the spirits, which was all the supper the group in the loft had. “In the morning, a soldier brought me Mr. B.'s compliments and an invitation to come down and have breakfast with him. * * * I gratefully accepted his invitation and took Forrest and Tudor with me. * * * He served us a dish of excellent coffee, along with plenty of very good toast, which was the only food we had eaten in the last twenty-four hours. * * * Our fellow sufferers got nothing until the next morning. * * *
“All the glory that was going (in the battle of Fort Washington) had, in my idea of what had passed, been engrossed by the regiment of Rawlings, which had been actively engaged, killed a number of the enemy, and lost many themselves.
“All the glory from the battle of Fort Washington, in my view of what happened, had been taken by Rawlings' regiment, which was heavily involved, killed several enemy soldiers, and suffered many losses themselves.”
“About two o’clock Mr. B. sent me a plate amply supplied with corned beef, cabbage, and the leg and wing of a turkey, with bread in proportion.”
“About two o’clock, Mr. B. sent me a plate generously filled with corned beef, cabbage, and a turkey leg and wing, along with plenty of bread.”
Though Mr. Graydon calls this gentleman Mr. Becket, it seems that there was no young officer of that name at the battle of Fort Washington. Becket appears to be a mistake for Lieutenant Onslow Beckwith. The prisoners were now marched within six miles of New York and Graydon’s party of officers were well quartered in a house. “Here,” he continues, “for the first time we drew provisions for the famished soldiers. * * * Previously to entering the city we were drawn up for about an hour on the high ground near the East River. Here, the officers being separated from the men, we were conducted into a church, where we signed a parole.”
Though Mr. Graydon refers to this gentleman as Mr. Becket, it appears there was no young officer by that name at the battle of Fort Washington. Becket seems to be a mix-up for Lieutenant Onslow Beckwith. The prisoners were now marched within six miles of New York, and Graydon’s group of officers were comfortably settled in a house. “Here,” he continues, “for the first time we received food for the starving soldiers. * * * Before entering the city, we stood in formation for about an hour on the high ground near the East River. At this point, the officers were separated from the men, and we were escorted into a church, where we signed a parole.”
At this place a non-commissioned British officer, who had seen him at the ordinary kept by his widowed mother in Philadelphia, when he was a boy, insisted on giving him a dollar.
At this spot, a non-commissioned British officer, who had seen him at the tavern run by his widowed mother in Philadelphia when he was a kid, insisted on giving him a dollar.
“Quarters were assigned for us in the upper part of the town, in what was called ‘The holy ground.’ * * * I ventured to take board at four dollars per week with a Mrs. Carroll. * * * Colonel Magaw, Major West, and others, boarded with me.”
“Quarters were assigned for us in the upper part of the town, in what was called ‘The holy ground.’ * * * I decided to take a room for four dollars a week with Mrs. Carroll. * * * Colonel Magaw, Major West, and others boarded with me.”
He was fortunate in obtaining his trunk and mattress. Speaking of the prisons in which the privates were confined he says: “I once and once only ventured to penetrate into these abodes of human misery and despair. But to what purpose repeat my visit, when I had neither relief to administer nor comfort to bestow? * * * I endeavoured to comfort them with the hope of exchange, but humanity forbade me to counsel them to rush on sure destruction. * * * Our own condition was a paradise to theirs. * * * Thousands of my unhappy countrymen were consigned to slow, consuming tortures, equally fatal and potent to destruction.”
He was lucky to get his trunk and mattress back. Talking about the prisons where the soldiers were held, he says: “I only dared to enter these places of human suffering and despair once. But why should I go back if I had no help to give or comfort to offer? * * * I tried to give them hope for an exchange, but my conscience wouldn’t let me encourage them to charge into certain doom. * * * Our situation was a paradise compared to theirs. * * * Thousands of my unfortunate countrymen were trapped in slow, agonizing torment, equally deadly and powerful in their destruction.”
The American officers on parole in New York prepared a memorial to Sir William Howe on the condition of these wretched sufferers, and it was signed by Colonels Magaw, Miles, and Atlee. This is, no doubt, the paper of which Colonel Ethan Allen writes. Captain Graydon was commissioned to deliver this document to Sir William Howe. He says: “The representation which had been submitted to General Howe in behalf of the suffering prisoners was more successful than had been expected. * * * The propositions had been considered by Sir William Howe, and he was disposed to accede to them. These were that the men should be sent within our lines, where they should be receipted for, and an equal number of the prisoners in our hands returned in exchange. * * * Our men, no longer soldiers (their terms for which they had enlisted having expired) and too debilitated for service, gave a claim to sound men, immediately fit to take the field, and there was moreover great danger that if they remained in New York the disease with which they were infected might be spread throughout the city. At any rate hope was admitted into the mansions of despair, the prison doors were thrown open, and the soldiers who were yet alive and capable of being moved were conveyed to our nearest posts, under the care of our regimental surgeons, to them a fortunate circumstance, since it enabled them to exchange the land of bondage for that of liberty. * * * Immediately after the release of our men a new location was assigned to us. On the 22nd of January, 1777, we were removed to Long Island.”
The American officers on parole in New York wrote a letter to Sir William Howe about the condition of the miserable captives, and it was signed by Colonels Magaw, Miles, and Atlee. This is definitely the document that Colonel Ethan Allen refers to. Captain Graydon was tasked with delivering this letter to Sir William Howe. He notes: “The appeal made to General Howe on behalf of the suffering prisoners was more successful than expected. * * * Sir William Howe considered the proposals and was inclined to agree to them. These were that the men should be sent within our lines, where we would take responsibility for them, and an equal number of our prisoners would be returned in exchange. * * * Our men were no longer soldiers (since their enlistment terms had expired) and were too weak to serve, which warranted the exchange for fit men who were ready to fight. Additionally, there was a serious risk that if they stayed in New York, the disease they had could spread throughout the city. Regardless, hope entered the places of despair, the prison doors were opened, and the soldiers who were still alive and able to be moved were taken to our nearest posts, under the care of our regimental surgeons, a fortunate situation for them, as it allowed them to trade the land of bondage for that of freedom. * * * Right after our men were released, we were given a new location. On January 22, 1777, we were moved to Long Island.”
CHAPTER IX. — A FOUL PAGE OF ENGLISH HISTORY
We will not follow Mr. Graydon now to Long Island. It was then late in January, 1777. The survivors of the American prisoners were, many of them, exchanged for healthy British soldiers. The crime had been committed, one of the blackest which stains the annals of English history. By the most accurate computation at least two thousand helpless American prisoners had been slowly starved, frozen, or poisoned to death in the churches and other prisons in New York.
We won't be following Mr. Graydon to Long Island right now. It was late January 1777. Many of the surviving American prisoners were exchanged for healthy British soldiers. A terrible crime had taken place, one of the darkest in English history. By the most precise counts, at least two thousand defenseless American prisoners had been slowly starved, frozen, or poisoned to death in the churches and other jails in New York.
No excuse for this monstrous crime can be found, even by those who are anxiously in search of an adequate one.
No justification for this terrible crime can be found, even by those who are desperately trying to come up with one.
We have endeavored to give some faint idea of the horrors of that hopeless captivity. As we have already said scarcely any one who endured imprisonment for any length of time in the churches lived to tell the tale. One of these churches was standing not many years ago, and the marks of bayonet thrusts might plainly be seen upon its pillars. What terrible deeds were enacted there we can only conjecture. We know that two thousand, healthy, high-spirited young men, many of them sons of gentlemen, and all patriotic, brave, and long enduring, even unto death, were foully murdered in these places of torment, compared to which ordinary captivity is described by one who endured it as paradise. We know, we say, that these young men perished awfully, rather than enlist in the British army; that posterity has almost forgotten them, and that their dreadful sufferings ought to be remembered wherever American history is read.
We have tried to give a glimpse of the horrors of that hopeless captivity. As we've mentioned, hardly anyone who was imprisoned in the churches for any length of time lived to tell their story. One of these churches was still standing a few years ago, and you could clearly see the marks of bayonet thrusts on its pillars. What terrible acts took place there, we can only guess. We know that two thousand healthy, high-spirited young men, many of them the sons of gentlemen and all patriotic, brave, and enduring—even to the point of death—were brutally murdered in these places of torment, which were described by someone who endured it as worse than ordinary captivity. We know, we say, that these young men died horrifically rather than join the British army; that history has almost forgotten them, and that their terrible sufferings deserve to be remembered wherever American history is studied.
We have already said that it is impossible now to obtain the names of all who suffered death at the hands of their inhuman jailors during the fall and winter of 1776-7. But we have taken Captain Abraham Shepherd’s company of riflemen as a sample of the prisoners, and are able, thanks to the pay roll now in our care, to indicate the fate of each man upon the list.
We’ve already mentioned that it’s impossible to get the names of everyone who was killed by their cruel captors during the fall and winter of 1776-77. However, we’ve used Captain Abraham Shepherd’s company of riflemen as a sample of the prisoners, and thanks to the pay roll we have, we can show the fate of each man on the list.
It is a mistake to say that no prisoners deserted to the British. After the account we have quoted from Ethan Allen’s book we feel sure that no one can find the heart to blame the poor starving creatures who endeavored to preserve their remains of life in this manner.
It’s wrong to say that no prisoners switched sides to the British. After the account we shared from Ethan Allen’s book, we’re certain that no one can blame the poor, starving people who tried to stay alive in this way.
Henry Bedinger gives the names of seven men of this company who deserted. They are Thomas Knox, a corporal; William Anderson, Richard Neal, George Taylor, Moses McComesky, Anthony Blackhead and Anthony Larkin. Thomas Knox did not join the British forces until the 17th of January, 1777; William Anderson on the 20th of January, 1777. Richard Neal left the American army on the tenth of August, 1776. He, therefore, was not with the regiment at Fort Washington. George Taylor deserted on the 9th of July, 1776, which was nine days after he enlisted. Moses McComesky did not desert until the 14th of June, 1777. Anthony Blackhead deserted November 15th, 1776, the day before the battle was fought; Anthony Larkin, September 15th, 1776. We cannot tell what became of any of these men. Those who died of the prisoners are no less than fifty-two in this one company of seventy-nine privates and non-commissioned officers. This may and probably does include a few who lived to be exchanged. The date of death of each man is given, but not the place in which he died.
Henry Bedinger lists the names of seven men from this company who deserted. They are Thomas Knox, a corporal; William Anderson, Richard Neal, George Taylor, Moses McComesky, Anthony Blackhead, and Anthony Larkin. Thomas Knox didn't join the British forces until January 17, 1777; William Anderson joined on January 20, 1777. Richard Neal left the American army on August 10, 1776, so he wasn't with the regiment at Fort Washington. George Taylor deserted on July 9, 1776, just nine days after enlisting. Moses McComesky didn't desert until June 14, 1777. Anthony Blackhead deserted on November 15, 1776, the day before the battle took place; Anthony Larkin deserted on September 15, 1776. We don't know what happened to any of these men. The number of those who died among the prisoners is at least fifty-two in this one company of seventy-nine privates and non-commissioned officers. This may, and probably does, include a few who lived to be exchanged. The date of death for each man is provided, but not the place where he died.
A very singular fact about this record is that no less than seventeen of the prisoners of this company died on the same day, which was the fifteenth of February, 1777. Why this was so we cannot tell. We can only leave the cause of their death to the imagination of our readers. Whether they were poisoned by wholesale; whether they were murdered in attempting to escape; whether the night being extraordinarily severe, they froze to death; whether they were butchered by British bayonets, we are totally unable to tell. The record gives their names and the date of death and says that all seventeen were prisoners. That is all.
A very unique fact about this record is that seventeen of the prisoners from this group died on the same day, which was February 15, 1777. We can’t say why this happened. We can only leave the reasons for their deaths to our readers' imaginations. Whether they were poisoned collectively, murdered while trying to escape, froze to death in an unusually harsh night, or killed by British bayonets, we really can’t tell. The record lists their names and the date of death, stating that all seventeen were prisoners. That’s all there is.
The names of these men are Jacob Wine, William Waller, Peter Snyder, Conrad Rush, David Harmon, William Moredock, William Wilson, James Wilson, Thomas Beatty, Samuel Davis, John Cassody, Peter Good, John Nixon, Christopher Peninger, Benjamin McKnight, John McSwaine, James Griffith, and Patrick Murphy.
The names of these men are Jacob Wine, William Waller, Peter Snyder, Conrad Rush, David Harmon, William Moredock, William Wilson, James Wilson, Thomas Beatty, Samuel Davis, John Cassody, Peter Good, John Nixon, Christopher Peninger, Benjamin McKnight, John McSwaine, James Griffith, and Patrick Murphy.
Two or three others are mentioned as dying the day after. Is it possible that these men were on board one of the prison ships which was set on fire? If so we have been able to discover no account of such a disaster on that date.
Two or three others are mentioned as dying the next day. Is it possible that these men were on one of the prison ships that was set on fire? If so, we haven't found any record of such a disaster on that date.
Many of the papers of Major Henry Bedinger were destroyed. It is possible that he may have left some clue to the fate of these men, but if so it is probably not now in existence. But among the letters and memoranda written by him which have been submitted to us for inspection, is a list, written on a scrap of paper, of the men that he recruited for Captain Shepherd’s Company in the summer of 1776. This paper gives the names of the men and the date on which each one died in prison. It is as follows:
Many of Major Henry Bedinger's papers were destroyed. He might have left some clue about the fate of these men, but if he did, it probably doesn't exist anymore. However, among the letters and notes he wrote that we've been given to look at, there's a list written on a scrap of paper of the men he recruited for Captain Shepherd’s Company in the summer of 1776. This paper includes the names of the men and the dates when each one died in prison. Here it is:
LIST OF MEN RAISED BY LIEUTENANT HENRY BEDINGER, AND THAT HE BROUGHT
LIST OF MEN RAISED BY LIEUTENANT HENRY BEDINGER, AND THAT HE BROUGHT
FROM NEW TOWN, BERKELEY COUNTY, VA., AUGUST FIRST, 1776
FROM NEW TOWN, BERKELEY COUNTY, VA., AUGUST 1, 1776
Dennis Bush, Fourth Sergeant. (He was taken prisoner at Fort Washington, but lived to be exchanged, and was paid up to October 1st, 1778, at the end of the term for which the company enlisted.)
Dennis Bush, Fourth Sergeant. (He was captured at Fort Washington, but he survived to be exchanged and received payment up to October 1st, 1778, at the end of the term for which the company enlisted.)
Conrad Cabbage, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 7th, 1777. John Cummins, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 27th, 1777. Gabriel Stevens, Prisoner, Died, March 1st, 1777. William Donally, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 10th, 1777. David Gilmer, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 26th, 1777. John Cassady, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 15th, 1777. Samuel Brown, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 26th, 1777. Peter Good, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 13th, 1777. William Boyle, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 25th, 1777. John Nixon, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 18th, 1777. Anthony Blackhead, deserted, Nov. 15th, 1776. William Case, Prisoner, Died, March 15th, 1777. Caspar Myres, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 16th, 1777. William Seaman, Prisoner, Died, July 8th, 1777. Isaac Price, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 5th, 1777. Samuel Davis, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 15th, 1777.
Conrad Cabbage, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 7, 1777. John Cummins, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 27, 1777. Gabriel Stevens, Prisoner, Died, March 1, 1777. William Donally, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 10, 1777. David Gilmer, Prisoner, Died, Jan. 26, 1777. John Cassady, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 15, 1777. Samuel Brown, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 26, 1777. Peter Good, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 13, 1777. William Boyle, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 25, 1777. John Nixon, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 18, 1777. Anthony Blackhead, deserted, Nov. 15, 1776. William Case, Prisoner, Died, March 15, 1777. Caspar Myres, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 16, 1777. William Seaman, Prisoner, Died, July 8, 1777. Isaac Price, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 5, 1777. Samuel Davis, Prisoner, Died, Feb. 15, 1777.
William Seaman was the son of Jonah Seaman, living near Darkesville. Isaac Price was an orphan, living with James’ Campbell’s father. Samuel Davis came from near Charlestown.
William Seaman was the son of Jonah Seaman, living near Darkesville. Isaac Price was an orphan, living with James Campbell's father. Samuel Davis came from near Charlestown.
Henry Bedinger.
Henry Bedinger.
This is all, but it is eloquent with what it does not say. All but two of this list of seventeen young, vigorous riflemen died in prison or from the effects of confinement. One, alone had sufficient vitality to endure until the 8th of July, 1777. Perhaps he was more to be pitied than his comrades.
This is everything, but it speaks volumes about what it leaves unsaid. All but two of the seventeen young, strong riflemen on this list died in prison or from the consequences of their confinement. One alone had enough strength to survive until July 8, 1777. Perhaps he was more deserving of pity than his fellow soldiers.
We now begin to understand how it happened that, out of more than 2,600 privates taken prisoner at Fort Washington, 1,900 were dead in the space of two months and four days, when the exchange of some of the survivors took place. Surely this is a lasting disgrace to one of the greatest nations of the world. If, as seems undoubtedly true, more men perished in prison than on the battle fields of the Revolution, it is difficult to see why so little is made of this fact in the many histories of that struggle that have been written. We find that the accounts of British prisons are usually dismissed in a few words, sometimes in an appendix, or a casual note. But history was ever written thus. Great victories are elaborately described; and all the pomp and circumstance of war is set down for our pleasure and instruction. But it is due to the grand solemn muse of history, who carries the torch of truth, that the other side, the horrors of war, should be as faithfully delineated. Wars will not cease until the lessons of their cruelty, their barbarity, and the dark trail of suffering they leave behind them are deeply impressed upon the mind. It is our painful task to go over the picture, putting in the shadows as we see them, however gloomy may be the effect.
We now start to understand how it happened that, out of more than 2,600 privates taken prisoner at Fort Washington, 1,900 were dead within two months and four days when some of the survivors were exchanged. This is surely a lasting disgrace for one of the greatest nations in the world. If, as seems undeniably true, more men died in prison than on the battlefields of the Revolution, it’s hard to see why this fact is given so little attention in the numerous histories of that struggle that have been written. The accounts of British prisons are usually covered in just a few words, sometimes in an appendix or a casual note. But history has always been written this way. Great victories are described in great detail, and all the pomp and circumstance of war are recorded for our enjoyment and learning. However, it is due to the serious and solemn muse of history, who carries the torch of truth, that the other side, the horrors of war, should also be accurately portrayed. Wars will not end until the lessons of their cruelty, their barbarity, and the dark trail of suffering they leave behind are deeply impressed upon our minds. It is our painful task to revisit the scene, highlighting the shadows as we see them, no matter how bleak the outcome may be.
CHAPTER X. — A BOY IN PRISON
In the winter of 1761 a boy was born in a German settlement near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the third son of Henry Bedinger and his wife, whose maiden name was Magdalene von Schlegel. These Germans, whom we have already mentioned, moved, in 1762, to the neighborhood of the little hamlet, then called Mecklenburg, Berkeley County, Virginia. Afterwards the name of the town was changed to Shepherdstown, in honor of its chief proprietor, Thomas Shepherd.
In the winter of 1761, a boy was born in a German settlement near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He was the third son of Henry Bedinger and his wife, Magdalene von Schlegel. This family, as we've mentioned before, moved in 1762 to the area around a small village then known as Mecklenburg, Berkeley County, Virginia. Later, the town's name was changed to Shepherdstown, in honor of its main owner, Thomas Shepherd.
Daniel was a boy of fourteen when the first company of riflemen was raised at Shepherdstown by the gallant young officer, Captain Hugh Stephenson, in 1775.
Daniel was a fourteen-year-old boy when the first group of riflemen was formed in Shepherdstown by the brave young officer, Captain Hugh Stephenson, in 1775.
The rendezvous of this company was the spring on his mother’s farm, then called Bedinger’s Spring, where the clear water gushes out of a great rock at the foot of an ancient oak. The son of Daniel Bedinger, Hon. Henry Bedinger, Minister to the Court of Denmark in 1853, left a short account of his father’s early history, which we will quote in this place. He says: “When the war of the Revolution commenced my father’s eldest brother Henry was about twenty-two years of age. His next brother, Michael, about nineteen, and he himself only in his fifteenth year. Upon the first news of hostilities his two brothers joined a volunteer company under the command of Captain Hugh Stephenson, and set off immediately to join the army at Cambridge.
The meeting place of this group was the spring on his mother’s farm, then known as Bedinger’s Spring, where clear water flows out of a large rock at the base of an old oak tree. Hon. Henry Bedinger, the son of Daniel Bedinger and Minister to the Court of Denmark in 1853, left a brief account of his father's early history, which we will quote here. He states: “When the Revolutionary War started, my father’s oldest brother Henry was about twenty-two years old. His next brother, Michael, was around nineteen, and he himself was only fifteen. At the first news of fighting, his two brothers joined a volunteer company led by Captain Hugh Stephenson and immediately headed to join the army at Cambridge.
“My father himself was extremely anxious to accompany them, but they and his mother, who was a widow, forbade his doing so, telling him he was entirely too young, and that he must stay at home and take care of his younger brothers and sisters. And he was thus very reluctantly compelled to remain at home. At the expiration of about twelve months his brothers returned home, and when the time for their second departure had arrived, the wonderful tales they had narrated of their life in camp had wrought so upon my father’s youthful and ardent imagination that he besought them and his mother with tears in his eyes, to suffer him to accompany them. But they, regarding his youth, would not give their consent, but took their departure without him.
“My father was really eager to go with them, but they and his mother, who was a widow, wouldn’t allow it. They told him he was too young and that he had to stay home to take care of his younger brothers and sisters. So, he was very reluctantly forced to stay behind. About a year later, his brothers returned home, and when it was time for them to leave again, the amazing stories they told about their time in camp had so captivated my father’s young and passionate imagination that he begged them and his mother, with tears in his eyes, to let him join them. But they, considering his youth, wouldn't agree and left without him.
“However, the second night after their arrival in camp (which was at Bergen, New Jersey), they were astonished by the arrival of my father, he having run off from home and followed them all the way on foot, and now appeared before them, haggard and weary and half starved by the lengths of his march. * * * My father was taken prisoner at the battle of Fort Washington, and the privations and cruel treatment which he then underwent gave a blow to his constitution from which he never recovered. After the close of the Revolution he returned home with a constitution much shattered. * * *”
“However, on the second night after they arrived at camp (which was in Bergen, New Jersey), they were shocked by the arrival of my father, who had run away from home and followed them on foot, now appearing before them, haggard, exhausted, and half-starved from his long journey. * * * My father was captured at the battle of Fort Washington, and the hardships and brutal treatment he endured then took a toll on his health that he never fully recovered from. After the Revolution ended, he returned home in very poor health. * * *”
Many years after the Revolution Dr. Draper, who died in Madison, Wisconsin, and left his valuable manuscripts to the Historical Society of that State, interviewed an old veteran of the war, in Kentucky. This venerable relic of the Revolution was Major George Michael Bedinger, a brother of Daniel. Dr. Draper took down from his lips a short account of the battle of Fort Washington, where his two brothers were captured. Major G. M. Bedinger was not in service at that time, but must have received the account from one or both of his brothers. Dr. Draper says: “In the action of Fort Washington Henry Bedinger heard a Hessian captain, having been repulsed, speak to his riflemen in his own language, telling them to follow his example and reserve their fire until they were close. Bedinger, recognizing his mother tongue, watched the approach of the Hessian officer, and each levelled his unerring rifle at the other. Both fired, Bedinger was wounded in the finger: the ball passing, cut off a lock of his hair. The Hessian was shot through the head, and instantly expired. Captain Bedinger’s young brother Daniel, in his company, then but a little past fifteen, shot twenty-seven rounds, and was often heard to say, after discharging his piece, ‘There! take that, you——!’
Many years after the Revolution, Dr. Draper, who passed away in Madison, Wisconsin, and left his valuable manuscripts to the Historical Society of that State, interviewed an old veteran of the war in Kentucky. This storied relic of the Revolution was Major George Michael Bedinger, a brother of Daniel. Dr. Draper recorded a brief account from him about the battle of Fort Washington, where his two brothers were captured. Major G. M. Bedinger was not serving at that time, but he must have gotten the details from one or both of his brothers. Dr. Draper notes: “During the battle at Fort Washington, Henry Bedinger heard a Hessian captain, after being pushed back, speak to his riflemen in his own language, telling them to follow his lead and hold their fire until they were close. Bedinger, recognizing the language, observed the approach of the Hessian officer, and they both aimed their accurate rifles at each other. They fired simultaneously; Bedinger was hit in the finger, with the bullet grazing a lock of his hair. The Hessian was shot in the head and fell instantly. Captain Bedinger’s younger brother Daniel, who was in his company and just a little over fifteen, fired twenty-seven rounds and was often heard to say, after pulling the trigger, ‘There! take that, you——!’”
“His youthful intrepidity, and gallant conduct, so particularly attracted the attention of the officers, that, though taken prisoner, he was promoted to an ensigncy, his commission dating back six months that he might take precedence of the other ensigns of his company.
“His youthful bravery and courageous actions caught the attention of the officers so much that, even though he was captured, he was promoted to an ensign, with his commission dated six months earlier so he could outrank the other ensigns in his company.
“These two brothers remained prisoners, the youngest but a few months, and the elder nearly four years, both on prison ships, with the most cruel treatment, in filthy holds, impure atmosphere, and stinted allowance of food. With such treatment it was no wonder that but eight hundred out of the 2800 prisoners taken at Fort Washington survived.
“These two brothers stayed imprisoned, the youngest for just a few months, and the older one for almost four years, both on prison ships, enduring brutal treatment, living in filthy conditions, breathing contaminated air, and receiving a meager amount of food. Given such conditions, it’s no surprise that only eight hundred out of the 2,800 prisoners taken at Fort Washington survived.”
“During the captivity of his brother Henry, Major Bedinger would by labor, loans at different times, and the property sold which he inherited from his father, procure money to convey to the British Commissary of Prisoners to pay his brother Henry’s board. Then he was released from the filthy prison ship, limited on his parole of honor to certain limits at Flatbush, and decently provisioned and better treated, and it is pleasant to add that the British officers having charge of these matters were faithful in the proper application of funds thus placed in their hands. Major Bedinger made many trips on this labor of fraternal affection. This, with his attention to his mother and family, kept him from regularly serving in the army. But he, never the less, would make short tours of service.”
“While his brother Henry was in captivity, Major Bedinger managed to raise money through hard work, loans at various times, and selling property that he inherited from his father, so he could send it to the British Commissary of Prisoners to cover Henry’s expenses. After that, Henry was released from the grim prison ship, restricted by his honor bound to certain areas at Flatbush, and was provided with decent provisions and better treatment. It's nice to note that the British officers in charge of these matters were diligent in properly using the funds given to them. Major Bedinger made many trips for this act of brotherly love. His dedication to his mother and family kept him from serving regularly in the army. However, he still managed to make short stints of service.”
So far we have quoted Dr. Draper’s recollections of an interview with George Michael Bedinger in his extreme old age. We have already given Henry Bedinger’s own acount of his captivity. What we know of Daniel’s far severer treatment we will give in our own words.
So far, we've shared Dr. Draper's memories of an interview with George Michael Bedinger in his old age. We've also provided Henry Bedinger's own account of his captivity. What we know about Daniel's much harsher treatment, we'll present in our own words.
It was four days before the privates taken at Fort Washington had one morsel to eat. They were then given a little mouldy biscuit and raw pork. They were marched to New York, and Daniel was lodged with many others, perhaps with the whole company, in the Old Sugar House on Liberty Street. Here he very nearly died of exposure and starvation. There was no glass in the windows and scarce one of the prisoners was properly clothed. When it snowed they were drifted over as they slept.
It was four days before the privates taken at Fort Washington had anything to eat. They were then given some moldy biscuits and raw pork. They were marched to New York, and Daniel was housed with many others, possibly the whole company, in the Old Sugar House on Liberty Street. Here he nearly died from exposure and starvation. There was no glass in the windows, and hardly any of the prisoners were properly dressed. When it snowed, they were buried under the snow as they slept.
One day Daniel discovered in some vats a deposit of sugar which he was glad to scrape to sustain life. A gentleman, confined with him in the Old Sugar House, used to tell his descendants that the most terrible fight he ever engaged in was a struggle with a comrade in prison for the carcass of a decayed rat.
One day, Daniel found some sugar in the vats that he was happy to scrape together to survive. A man who was locked up with him in the Old Sugar House used to tell his family that the most intense fight he ever got into was a struggle with a fellow inmate over a dead rat.
It is possible that Henry Bedinger, an officer on parole in New York, may have found some means of communicating with his young brother, and even of supplying him, sometimes, with food. Daniel, however, was soon put on board a prison ship, probably the Whitby, in New York harbor.
It’s possible that Henry Bedinger, an officer on parole in New York, might have found a way to communicate with his younger brother and even occasionally send him food. However, Daniel was soon placed on a prison ship, probably the Whitby, in New York harbor.
Before the first exchange was effected the poor boy had yielded to despair, and had turned his face to the wall, to die. How bitterly he must have regretted the home he had been so ready to leave a few months before! And now the iron had eaten into his soul, and he longed for death, as the only means of release from his terrible sufferings.
Before the first exchange took place, the poor boy had given in to despair and turned his face to the wall to die. How deeply he must have regretted the home he was so eager to leave a few months earlier! Now, the anguish had consumed his spirit, and he longed for death as the only way to escape his terrible suffering.
Daniel’s father was born in Alsace, and he himself had been brought up in a family where German was the familiar language of the household. It seems that, in some way, probably by using his mother tongue, he had touched the heart of one of the Hessian guards. When the officers in charge went among the prisoners, selecting those who were to be exchanged, they twice passed the poor boy as too far gone to be moved. But he, with a sudden revival of hope and the desire to live, begged and entreated the Hessian so pitifully not to leave him behind, that that young man, who is said to have been an officer, declared that he would be responsible for him, had him lifted and laid down in the bottom of a boat, as he was too feeble to sit or stand. In this condition he accompanied the other prisoners to a church in New York where the exchange was effected. One or more of the American surgeons accompanied the prisoners. In some way Daniel was conveyed to Philadelphia, where he completely collapsed, and was taken to one of the military hospitals.
Daniel’s father was born in Alsace, and he had grown up in a family where German was the common language at home. It seems that somehow, probably by using his native language, he had touched the heart of one of the Hessian guards. When the officers in charge went among the prisoners, choosing who would be exchanged, they twice passed over the poor boy, thinking he was too far gone to be moved. But with a sudden surge of hope and the will to live, he begged the Hessian so pitifully not to leave him behind that the young man, said to be an officer, promised to take responsibility for him. He had him lifted and laid down in the bottom of a boat since he was too weak to sit or stand. In this state, he went with the other prisoners to a church in New York where the exchange took place. One or more American surgeons accompanied the prisoners. Somehow, Daniel was transported to Philadelphia, where he completely collapsed and was taken to one of the military hospitals.
Here, about the first of January, 1777, his devoted brother, George Michael Bedinger, found him. Major Bedinger’s son, Dr. B. F. Bedinger, wrote an account of the meeting of these two brothers for Mrs. H. B. Lee, one of Daniel’s daughters, which tells the rest of the story. He said:
Here, around January 1, 1777, his loyal brother, George Michael Bedinger, discovered him. Major Bedinger’s son, Dr. B. F. Bedinger, documented the encounter between these two brothers for Mrs. H. B. Lee, one of Daniel’s daughters, which reveals the rest of the story. He said:
“My father went to the hospital in search of his brother, but did not recognize him. On inquiry if there were any (that had been) prisoners there a feeble voice responded, from a little pile of straw and rags in a corner, ‘Yes, Michael, there is one.’
“My father went to the hospital looking for his brother, but he didn’t recognize him. When he asked if there were any prisoners there, a weak voice replied from a small pile of straw and rags in the corner, ‘Yes, Michael, there is one.’”
“Overcome by his feelings my father knelt by the side of the poor emaciated boy, and took him in his arms. He then bore him to a house where he could procure some comforts in the way of food and clothing. After this he got an armchair, two pillows, and some leather straps.
“Overwhelmed by his emotions, my father knelt beside the poor, thin boy and held him in his arms. He then carried him to a house where he could get some food and clothes. After that, he found an armchair, two pillows, and some leather straps.”
“He placed his suffering and beloved charge in the chair, supported him by the pillows, swung him by the leather straps to his back, and carried him some miles into the country, where he found a friendly asylum for him in the house of some good Quakers. There he nursed him, and by the aid of the kind owners, who were farmers, gave him nourishing food, until he partially recovered strength.
“He placed his suffering and beloved friend in the chair, propped him up with the pillows, swung him onto his back using the leather straps, and carried him several miles into the countryside, where he found a welcoming refuge in the home of some kind Quakers. There, he cared for him, and with the help of the generous owners, who were farmers, provided him with nourishing food until he regained some strength.”
“But your father was very impatient to get home, and wished to proceed before he was well able to walk, and did so leave, while my father walked by his side, with his arm around him to support him. Thus they travelled from the neighborhood of Philadelphia, to Shepherdstown (Virginia) of course by short stages, when my father restored him safe to his mother and family.
“But your father was really eager to get home and wanted to leave before he was fully able to walk, so he did. My father walked beside him, with his arm around him to support him. They traveled from the Philadelphia area to Shepherdstown (Virginia), of course taking short breaks, until my father safely returned him to his mother and family.”
“Your father related some of the incidents of that trip to me when I last saw him at Bedford (his home) in the spring of 1817, not more than one year before his death. Our uncle, Henry Bedinger, was also a prisoner for a long time, and although he suffered greatly his suffering was not to be compared to your father’s.
“Your dad shared some stories from that trip with me when I last saw him at his home in Bedford in the spring of 1817, not even a year before he passed away. Our uncle, Henry Bedinger, was also a prisoner for quite a while, and while he endured a lot, his suffering didn’t come close to what your dad went through.”
“After your father recovered his health he again entered the service and continued in it to the end of the war. He was made Lieutenant, and I have heard my father speak of many battles he was in, but I have forgotten the names and places.” [Footnote: Letter of Dr B. F. Bedinger to Mrs H. B. Lee, written in 1871.]
“After your father got his health back, he returned to service and stayed in it until the end of the war. He was promoted to Lieutenant, and I've heard my father mention many battles he fought in, but I've forgotten the names and locations.” [Footnote: Letter of Dr B. F. Bedinger to Mrs H. B. Lee, written in 1871.]
After Daniel Bedinger returned home he had a relapse, and lay, for a long time, at the point of death. He, however, recovered, and re-entered the service, where the first duty assigned him was that of acting as one of the guards over the prisoners near Winchester. He afterwards fought with Morgan in the southern campaigns, was in the battle of the Cowpens, and several other engagements, serving until the army was disbanded. He was a Knight of the Order of the Cincinnati. His grandson, the Rev. Henry Bedinger, has the original parchment signed by General Washington, in his possession. This grandson is now the chaplain of the Virginia branch of the Society.
After Daniel Bedinger returned home, he had a relapse and lay near death for a long time. However, he recovered and went back to serve, where his first duty was to act as one of the guards over the prisoners near Winchester. He later fought with Morgan in the southern campaigns, participated in the battle of Cowpens, and several other battles, serving until the army was disbanded. He was a Knight of the Order of the Cincinnati. His grandson, the Rev. Henry Bedinger, has the original parchment signed by General Washington in his possession. This grandson is now the chaplain of the Virginia branch of the Society.
In 1791 Daniel Bedinger married Miss Sarah Rutherford, a daughter of Hon. Robert Rutherford, of Flowing Springs, in what is now Jefferson County, West Virginia, but was then part of Berkeley County, Virginia.
In 1791, Daniel Bedinger married Miss Sarah Rutherford, the daughter of Hon. Robert Rutherford, from Flowing Springs, in what is now Jefferson County, West Virginia, but was then part of Berkeley County, Virginia.
Lieutenant Bedinger lived in Norfolk for many years. He was first engaged in the Custom House in that city. In 1802 he accepted the position of navy agent of the Gosport Navy Yard. He died in 1818 at his home near Shepherdstown, of a malady which troubled him ever after his confinement as a prisoner in New York. He hated the British with a bitter hatred, which is not to be wondered at. He was an ardent supporter of Thomas Jefferson, and wrote much for the periodicals of the time. Withal he was a scholarly gentleman, and a warm and generous friend. He built a beautiful residence on the site of his mother’s old home near Sheperdstown; where, when he died in 1818, he left a large family of children, and a wide circle of friends and admirers.
Lieutenant Bedinger lived in Norfolk for many years. He initially worked at the Custom House in that city. In 1802, he took the position of navy agent at the Gosport Navy Yard. He passed away in 1818 at his home near Shepherdstown from an illness that troubled him ever since his time as a prisoner in New York. He harbored a deep resentment towards the British, which is understandable. He was a passionate supporter of Thomas Jefferson and wrote extensively for the periodicals of that era. He was also a well-educated gentleman and a warm, generous friend. He built a beautiful home on the site of his mother’s old house near Shepherdstown, where he died in 1818, leaving behind a large family and a wide network of friends and admirers.
CHAPTER XI. — THE NEWSPAPERS OF THE REVOLUTION
What we have been able to glean from the periodicals of the day about the state of the prisons in New York during the years 1776 and 1777 we will condense into one short chapter.
What we've been able to gather from the newspapers of the time about the condition of the prisons in New York during the years 1776 and 1777 will be summarized in one short chapter.
We will also give an abstract taken from a note book written by General Jeremiah Johnson, who as a boy, lived near Wallabout Bay during the Revolution and who thus describes one of the first prison ships used by the British at New York. He says: “The subject of the naval prisoners, and of the British prisons-ships, stationed at the Wallabout during the Revolution, is one which cannot be passed by in silence. From printed journals, published in New York at the close of the war, it appeared that 11,500 American prisoners had died on board the prison ships. Although this number is very great, yet if the numbers who perished had been less, the Commissary of Naval Prisoners, David Sproat, Esq., and his Deputy, had it in their power, by an official Return, to give the true number taken, exchanged, escaped, and dead. Such a Return has never appeared in the United States.
We will also provide an overview from a notebook written by General Jeremiah Johnson, who, as a child, lived near Wallabout Bay during the Revolution and described one of the first prison ships used by the British in New York. He mentions: “The topic of naval prisoners and the British prison ships stationed at Wallabout during the Revolution is one that shouldn't be ignored. From printed journals published in New York at the end of the war, it was reported that 11,500 American prisoners died on board the prison ships. While this number is incredibly high, if the actual death toll had been lower, the Commissary of Naval Prisoners, David Sproat, Esq., and his Deputy had the ability to provide an official report that would include the true numbers of those captured, exchanged, escaped, and dead. Such a report has never been made public in the United States.
“David Sproat returned to America after the war, and resided in Philadelphia, where he died. [Footnote: This is, we believe, a mistake. Another account says he died at Kirkcudbright, Scotland, in 1792.] The Commissary could not have been ignorant of the statement published here on this interesting subject. We may, therefore, infer that about that number, 11,500, perished in the Prison ships.
“David Sproat came back to America after the war and lived in Philadelphia, where he died. [Footnote: We believe this is a mistake. Another account says he died in Kirkcudbright, Scotland, in 1792.] The Commissary couldn't have been unaware of the statement published here on this interesting topic. Therefore, we can infer that around 11,500 people died in the prison ships.”
“A large transport called the Whitby, was the first prison ship anchored in the Wallabout. She was moored near Remsen’s Mill about the 20th of October, 1776, and was then crowded with prisoners. Many landsmen were prisoners on board this vessel: she was said to be the most sickly of all the prison ships. Bad provisions, bad water, and scanted rations were dealt to the prisoners. No medical men attended the sick. Disease reigned unrelieved, and hundreds died from pestilence, or were starved on board this floating Prison. I saw the sand beach, between a ravine in the hill and Mr. Remsen’s dock, become filled with graves in the course of two months: and before the first of May, 1777, the ravine alluded to was itself occupied in the same way.
A large transport ship called the Whitby was the first prison ship to anchor in the Wallabout. She was tied up near Remsen’s Mill around October 20, 1776, and she was overcrowded with prisoners. Many civilians were imprisoned on this vessel, which was said to be the sickliest of all the prison ships. The prisoners received poor food, unsafe water, and limited rations. There were no medical professionals to care for the sick. Disease spread unchecked, and hundreds either succumbed to illness or were starved onboard this floating prison. I saw the sandy beach between a ravine in the hill and Mr. Remsen’s dock become filled with graves within two months, and before May 1, 1777, the ravine mentioned was also filled in the same way.
“In the month of May, 1777, two large ships were anchored in the Wallabout, when the prisoners were transferred from the Whitby to them. These vessels were also very sickly from the causes before stated. Although many prisoners were sent on board of them, and none exchanged, death made room for all.
“In May 1777, two large ships were anchored in the Wallabout when the prisoners were transferred from the Whitby to them. These vessels were also very unhealthy for the reasons mentioned earlier. Even though many prisoners were sent on board and none were exchanged, death made room for all.”
“On a Sunday afternoon about the middle of October, 1777, one of these prison ships was burnt. The prisoners, except a few, who, it was said, were burnt in the vessel, were removed to the remaining ship. It was reported at the time, that the prisoners had fired their prison, which, if true, proves that they preferred death, even by fire, to the lingering sufferings of pestilence and starvation. In the month of February, 1778, the remaining prison ship was burnt, when the prisoners were removed from her to the ships then wintering in the Wallabout.”
“On a Sunday afternoon around mid-October 1777, one of the prison ships caught fire. The prisoners, except for a few who were said to have perished in the blaze, were transferred to the other ship. It was reported at the time that the prisoners had set their prison on fire, which, if true, shows they would rather die by flames than endure the slow torment of disease and starvation. In February 1778, the remaining prison ship was also set ablaze, and the prisoners were moved from it to the ships that were wintering in the Wallabout.”
One of the first notices we have in the newspapers of the day of American prisoners is to the following effect: “London, August 5th, 1775. As every rebel, who is taken prisoner, has incurred the pain of death by the law martial, it is said that Government will charter several transports, after their arrival at Boston to carry the culprits to the East Indies for the Company’s service. As it is the intention of Government only to punish the ringleaders and commanders capitally, and to suffer the inferior Rebels to redeem their lives by entering into the East India Company’s service. This translation will only render them more useful subjects than in their native country.”
One of the first reports we have in the newspapers of the time about American prisoners is as follows: “London, August 5th, 1775. Since every rebel who is captured faces the death penalty under martial law, the government is reportedly planning to charter several transports to take these prisoners to the East Indies for the Company’s service once they arrive in Boston. The government intends to execute only the key leaders and commanders, allowing the lesser rebels to save their lives by joining the East India Company’s service. This move will only make them more useful subjects than they were in their home country.”
This notice, copied from London papers, appeared in Holt’s New York Journal, for October 19th, 1775. It proved to be no idle threat. How many of our brave soldiers were sent to languish out their lives in the British possessions in India, and on the coast of Africa, we have no means of knowing. Few, indeed, ever saw their homes again, but we will give, in a future chapter, the narrative of one who escaped from captivity worse than death on the island of Sumatra.
This notice, copied from London papers, appeared in Holt’s New York Journal, for October 19th, 1775. It turned out to be a serious threat. We have no way of knowing how many of our brave soldiers were sent to spend their lives in British territories in India and along the coast of Africa. Very few ever returned home, but we will share the story of one person who escaped from a captivity worse than death on the island of Sumatra in a future chapter.
An account of the mobbing of William Cunningham and John Hill is given in both the Tory and Whig papers of the day. It occurred in March, 1775. “William Cunningham and John Hill were mobbed by 200 men in New York, dragged through the green, Cunningham was robbed of his watch and the clothes torn off his back, etc., for being a Tory, and having made himself obnoxious to the Americans. He has often been heard blustering in behalf of the ministry, and his behavior has recommended him to the favor of several men of eminence, both in the military and civil departments. He has often been seen, on a footing of familiarity, at their houses, and parading the streets on a horse belonging to one of the gentlemen, etc., etc.”
An account of the mobbing of William Cunningham and John Hill is provided in both the Tory and Whig newspapers of the time. It happened in March 1775. “William Cunningham and John Hill were attacked by 200 men in New York, dragged through the park, Cunningham was robbed of his watch and had his clothes torn off him for being a Tory and for making himself disliked by the Americans. He has frequently been heard loudly supporting the government, and his actions have earned him the favor of several prominent figures in both military and civil roles. He has often been seen socializing at their homes and riding around the streets on a horse belonging to one of these gentlemen, etc., etc.”
The Virginia Gazette in its issue for the first of July, 1775, says: “On June 6th, 1775, the prisoners taken at Lexington were exchanged. The wounded privates were soon sent on board the Levity. * * * At about three a signal was made by the Levity that they were ready to deliver up our prisoners, upon which General Putnam and Major Moncrief went to the ferry, where they received nine prisoners. The regular officers expressed themselves as highly pleased, those who had been prisoners politely acknowledged the genteel kindness they had received from their captors; the privates, who were all wounded men, expressed in the strongest terms their grateful sense of the tenderness which had been shown them in their miserable situation; some of them could do it only by their tears. It would have been to the honor of the British arms if the prisoners taken from us could with justice have made the same acknowledgement. It cannot be supposed that any officers of rank or common humanity were knowing to the repeated cruel insults that were offered them; but it may not be amiss to hint to the upstarts concerned, two truths of which they appear to be wholly ignorant, viz: That compassion is as essential a part of the character of a truly brave man as daring, and that insult offered to the person completely in the power of the insulters smells as strong of cowardice as it does of cruelty.” [Footnote: The first American prisoners were taken on the 17th of June, 1775. These were thrown indiscriminately into the jail at Boston without any consideration of their rank. General Washington wrote to General Gage on this subject, to which the latter replied by asserting that the prisoners had been treated with care and kindness, though indiscriminately, as he acknowledged no rank that was not derived from the King. General Carleton during his command conducted towards the American prisoners with a degree of humanity that reflected the greatest honor on his character.” From Ramsay’s “History of the American Revolution”]
The Virginia Gazette in its issue for July 1, 1775, says: “On June 6, 1775, the prisoners taken at Lexington were exchanged. The injured soldiers were soon put on board the Levity. * * * Around three o'clock, the Levity signaled that they were ready to hand over our prisoners, so General Putnam and Major Moncrief went to the ferry, where they received nine prisoners. The regular officers expressed their satisfaction, and those who had been prisoners graciously acknowledged the kind treatment they had received from their captors; the privates, all of whom were wounded, expressed their heartfelt gratitude for the care shown to them in their difficult situation; some could only express this with tears. It would have been an honor to the British forces if the prisoners taken from us could have truthfully made the same acknowledgment. It’s hard to believe that any officers of rank or basic humanity were aware of the repeated cruel insults directed at them; but it might be useful to remind the ambitious individuals involved of two truths they seem completely unaware of: that compassion is as essential to the character of a truly brave person as bravery itself, and that insults directed at someone completely at the mercy of the insulters are just as indicative of cowardice as they are of cruelty.” [Footnote: The first American prisoners were taken on June 17, 1775. They were thrown indiscriminately into the jail in Boston without regard for their rank. General Washington wrote to General Gage about this, and Gage replied that the prisoners had been treated with care and kindness, although indiscriminately, as he recognized no rank that did not come from the King. General Carleton, during his command, treated the American prisoners with a degree of humanity that brought great honor to his character.” From Ramsay’s “History of the American Revolution”]
At the battle of the Great Bridge “the Virginia militia showed the greatest humanity and tenderness to the wounded prisoners. Several of them ran through a hot fire to lift up and bring in some that were bleeding, and whom they feared would die if not speedily assisted by the surgeon. The prisoners had been told by Lord Dunmore that the Americans would scalp them, and they cried out, ‘For God’s sake do not murder us!’ One of them who was unable to walk calling out in this manner to one of our men, was answered by him: ‘Put your arm about my neck and I’ll show you what I intend to do.’ Then taking him, with his arm over his neck, he walked slowly along, bearing him with great tenderness to the breastwork.” Pennsylvania Evening Post, January 6th, 1776.
At the battle of the Great Bridge, the Virginia militia showed incredible compassion and care for the wounded prisoners. Several of them ran through intense gunfire to lift and bring in those who were bleeding, fearing they would die without immediate help from a surgeon. The prisoners had been told by Lord Dunmore that the Americans would scalp them, and they cried out, “For God’s sake, don’t murder us!” One prisoner, who couldn’t walk, called out to one of our men. The soldier replied, “Put your arm around my neck, and I’ll show you what I plan to do.” He then helped him by putting his arm around his shoulder and walked slowly, carefully carrying him to safety. Pennsylvania Evening Post, January 6th, 1776.
The Great Bridge was built over the southern branch of the Elizabeth River, twelve miles above Norfolk. Colonel William Woodford commanded the Virginia militia on this occasion.
The Great Bridge was built over the southern branch of the Elizabeth River, twelve miles upstream from Norfolk. Colonel William Woodford led the Virginia militia during this time.
“The scene closed with as much humanity as it had been conducted with bravery. The work of death being over, every one’s attention was directed to the succor of the unhappy sufferers, and it is an undoubted fact that Captain Leslie was so affected with the tenderness of our troops towards those who were yet capable of assistance that he gave signs from the fort of his thankfulness for it.” Pennsylvania Evening Post, Jan. 6th, 1776.
“The scene ended with as much compassion as it began with courage. Once the fighting was over, everyone focused on helping the unfortunate victims, and it’s a clear fact that Captain Leslie was so moved by our troops' kindness towards those still able to be helped that he signaled from the fort his gratitude for it.” Pennsylvania Evening Post, Jan. 6th, 1776.
The first mention we can find of a British prison ship is in the New York Packet for the 11th of April, 1776: “Captain Hammond * * * Ordered Captain Forrester, his prisoner, who was on board the Roebuck, up to the prison ship at Norfolk in a pilot boat.”
The first mention we can find of a British prison ship is in the New York Packet for April 11, 1776: “Captain Hammond * * * ordered Captain Forrester, his prisoner, who was on board the Roebuck, to the prison ship at Norfolk in a pilot boat.”
The Constitutional Gazette for the 19th of April, 1776, has this announcement, and though it does not bear directly on the subject of prisoners, it describes a set of men who were most active in taking them, and were considered by the Americans as more cruel and vindictive than even the British themselves.
The Constitutional Gazette from April 19, 1776, features this announcement, and while it doesn't directly relate to prisoners, it talks about a group of men who were very involved in capturing them and were seen by Americans as even more ruthless and vengeful than the British themselves.
“Government have sent over to Germany to engage 1,000 men called Jagers, people brought up to the use of the rifle barrel guns in boar-hunting. They are amazingly expert. Every petty prince who hath forests keeps a number of them, and they are allowed to take apprentices, by which means they are a numerous body of people. These men are intended to act in the next campaign in America, and our ministry plume themselves much in the thought of their being a complete match for the American riflemen.”
“ The government has sent to Germany to recruit 1,000 men known as Jagers, trained in using rifle-barreled guns for boar hunting. They are incredibly skilled. Every small prince with forests has some, and they are permitted to take on apprentices, which helps them grow in numbers. These men are intended to serve in the upcoming campaign in America, and our government is quite pleased with the idea that they will be a perfect match for the American riflemen.”
From Gaine’s Mercury, a notorious Tory paper published in New York during the British occupancy, we take the following: “November 25th, 1776. There are now 5,000 prisoners in town, many of them half naked. Congress deserts the poor wretches,—have sent them neither provisions nor clothing, nor paid attention to their distress nor that of their families. Their situation must have been doubly deplorable, but for the humanity of the King’s officers. Every possible attention has been given, considering their great numbers and necessary confinement, to alleviate their distress arising from guilt, sickness, and poverty.”
From Gaine’s Mercury, a well-known Tory newspaper published in New York during the British occupation, we take the following: “November 25th, 1776. There are currently 5,000 prisoners in town, many of whom are barely clothed. Congress has abandoned these poor souls—sending them neither food nor clothing, nor paying any attention to their suffering or that of their families. Their situation must have been even more terrible if not for the kindness of the King’s officers. Every possible effort has been made, given their large numbers and necessary confinement, to lessen their suffering caused by guilt, illness, and poverty.”
This needs no comment. It is too unspeakably false to be worth contradicting.
This doesn't need any comment. It's so incredibly untrue that it's not even worth arguing against.
“New London, Conn., November 8th, 1776. Yesterday arrived E. Thomas, who was captured September 1st, carried to New York, and put on board the Chatham. He escaped Wednesday sennight.”
“New London, Conn., November 8th, 1776. Yesterday, E. Thomas arrived, who was captured on September 1st, taken to New York, and put on board the Chatham. He escaped a week ago Wednesday.”
“New London, Nov. 20th, 1776. American officers, prisoners on parole, are walking about the streets of New York, but soldiers are closely confined, have but half allowance, are sickly, and die fast.”
“New London, Nov. 20th, 1776. American officers, released on parole, are walking around the streets of New York, but the soldiers are kept in tight confinement, receive only half rations, are unwell, and are dying quickly.”
“New London, Nov. 29th, 1776. A cartel arrived here for exchange of seamen only. Prisoners had miserable confinement on board of store ships and transports, where they suffered for want of the common necessaries of life.”
“New London, Nov. 29th, 1776. A deal arrived here for the exchange of sailors only. Prisoners had a terrible time locked up on store ships and transports, where they struggled due to a lack of basic necessities.”
“Exact from a letter written on board the Whitby Prison Ship. New York, Dec. 9th, 1776. Our present situation is most wretched; more than 250 prisoners, some sick and without the least assistance from physician, drug, or medicine, and fed on two-thirds allowance of salt provisions, and crowded promiscuously together without regard, to color, person or office, in the small room of a ship’s between decks, allowed to walk the main deck only between sunrise and sunset. Only two at a time allowed to come on deck to do what nature requires, and sometimes denied even that, and use tubs and buckets between decks, to the great offence of every delicate, cleanly person, and prejudice of all our healths. Lord Howe has liberated all in the merchant service, but refuses to exchange those taken in arms but for like prisoners.” (This is an extract from the Trumbull Papers.)
“Exact from a letter written on board the Whitby Prison Ship. New York, Dec. 9th, 1776. Our current situation is absolutely miserable; over 250 prisoners, some ill and without any medical assistance, drugs, or medicine, are given only two-thirds of the salt provisions we should receive, and we are crammed together without regard for color, person, or position in a small space between the decks of the ship, only permitted to walk on the main deck between sunrise and sunset. Only two people at a time can come on deck to attend to nature's calls, and sometimes we're denied even that, forcing us to use tubs and buckets between decks, which deeply offends those of us who are delicate or clean and harms all of our health. Lord Howe has released everyone involved in the merchant service, but he refuses to exchange those captured in battle for similar prisoners.” (This is an extract from the Trumbull Papers.)
From a Connecticut paper: “This may inform those who have friends in New York, prisoners of war, that Major Wells, a prisoner, has come thence to Connecticut on parole, to collect money for the much distressed officers and soldiers there, and desires the money may be left at Landlord Betts, Norwalk; Captain Benjamin’s, Stratford; Landlord Beers, New Haven; Hezekiah Wylly’s, Hartford; and at said Well’s, Colchester, with proper accounts from whom received, and to whom to be delivered. N. B. The letters must not be sealed, or contain anything of a political nature.” Conn. Papers, Dec. 6th, 1776.
From a Connecticut newspaper: “This is to inform those with friends in New York who are prisoners of war that Major Wells, a prisoner, has come to Connecticut on parole to collect funds for the greatly distressed officers and soldiers there. He requests that the money be left with Landlord Betts in Norwalk; Captain Benjamin’s in Stratford; Landlord Beers in New Haven; Hezekiah Wylly’s in Hartford; and at Wells’ place in Colchester, along with proper records of who received the funds and to whom they should be delivered. P.S. The letters should not be sealed or contain anything political.” Conn. Papers, Dec. 6th, 1776.
“Conn. Gazette, Feb. 8th, 1777. William Gamble deposes that the prisoners were huddled together with negroes, had weak grog; no swab to clean the ship; bad oil; raw pork; seamen refused them water; called them d——d rebels; the dead not buried, etc.”
“Conn. Gazette, Feb. 8th, 1777. William Gamble states that the prisoners were cramped together with Black people, received weak booze; there was no mop to clean the ship; poor-quality oil; raw pork; sailors denied them water; called them d——d rebels; the dead were not buried, etc.”
“Lieut. Wm. Sterrett, taken August 27, 1776, deposes that his clothing was stolen, that he was abused by the soldiers; stinted in food; etc., those who had slight wounds were allowed to perish from neglect. The recruiting officers seduced the prisoners to enlist, etc.”
“Lieut. Wm. Sterrett, captured on August 27, 1776, states that his clothing was stolen, that he was mistreated by the soldiers; given very little food; etc. Those with minor injuries were left to suffer from neglect. The recruiting officers lured the prisoners into enlisting, etc.”
“March 7th, 1777. Forty-six prisoners from the Glasgow, transport ship, were landed in New Haven, where one of them, Captain Craigie, died and was buried.” (Their names are published in the Connecticut Courant.)
“March 7th, 1777. Forty-six prisoners from the transport ship Glasgow were landed in New Haven, where one of them, Captain Craigie, died and was buried.” (Their names are published in the Connecticut Courant.)
Connecticut Gazette of April 30th, 1777, says: “The Connecticut Assembly sent to New York a sufficient supply of tow shirts and trousers for her prisoners, also £35 to Col. Ethan Allen, by his brother Levi.”
Connecticut Gazette of April 30th, 1777, says: “The Connecticut Assembly sent to New York enough tow shirts and trousers for their prisoners, and also £35 to Col. Ethan Allen, through his brother Levi.”
“Lt. Thos. Fanning, now on parole from Long Island at Norwich, a prisoner to General Howe, will be at Hartford on his return to New York about September 8th, whence he proposes to keep the public road to King’s Bridge. Letters and money left at the most noted public houses in the different towns, will be conveyed safe to the prisoners. Extraordinaries excepted.” Connecticut Gazette, Aug. 15th, 1777.
“Lt. Thos. Fanning, currently on parole from Long Island at Norwich, a prisoner of General Howe, will be in Hartford on his way back to New York around September 8th, where he plans to take the main road to King’s Bridge. Letters and money left at the most popular inns in various towns will be safely delivered to the prisoners. Special cases excluded.” Connecticut Gazette, Aug. 15th, 1777.
“Jan. 8th, ‘77. A flag of truce vessel arrived at Milford after a tedious passage of eleven days, from New York, having above 200 prisoners, whose rueful countenances too well discovered the ill treatment they received in New York. Twenty died on the passage, and twenty since they landed.” New Haven, Conn.
“Jan. 8th, ‘77. A truce ship arrived at Milford after a long journey of eleven days from New York, carrying over 200 prisoners, whose sad faces clearly revealed the mistreatment they endured in New York. Twenty died during the journey, and twenty more have died since they landed.” New Haven, Conn.
CHAPTER XII. — THE TRUMBULL PAPERS AND OTHER SOURCES OF INFORMATION
We will now quote from the Trumbull Papers and other productions, what is revealed to the public of the state of the prisoners in New York in 1776 and 1777. Some of our information we have obtained from a book published in 1866 called “Documents and Letters Intended to Illustrate the Revolutionary Incidents of Long Island, by Henry Onderdonk, Jr.” He gives an affecting account of the wounding of General Woodhull, after his surrender, and when he had given up his sword. The British ruffians who held him insisted that he should cry, “God save the King!” whereupon, taking off his hat, he replied, reverently, “God save all of us!” At this the cruel men ran him through, giving him wounds that proved mortal, though had they been properly dressed his life might have been spared. He was mounted behind a trooper and carried to Hinchman’s Tavern, Jamaica, where permission was refused to Dr. Ogden to dress his wounds. This was on the 28th of August, 1776. Next day he was taken westward and put on board an old vessel off New Utrecht. This had been a cattle ship. He was next removed to the house of Wilhelmus Van Brunt at New Utrecht. His arm mortified from neglect and it was decided to take it off. He sent express to his wife that he had no hope of recovery, and begged her to gather up what provisions she could, for he had a large farm, and hasten to his bedside. She accordingly loaded a wagon with bread, ham, crackers, butter, etc., and barely reached her husband in time to see him alive. With his dying breath he requested her to distribute the provisions she had brought to the suffering and starving American prisoners.
We will now quote from the Trumbull Papers and other writings, revealing to the public the condition of the prisoners in New York in 1776 and 1777. Some of our information comes from a book published in 1866 titled “Documents and Letters Intended to Illustrate the Revolutionary Incidents of Long Island, by Henry Onderdonk, Jr.” He shares a touching account of General Woodhull being wounded after his surrender and after he had surrendered his sword. The British thugs holding him insisted that he shout, “God save the King!” To this, he took off his hat and replied, respectfully, “God save all of us!” At that, the cruel men stabbed him, inflicting wounds that were fatal, although proper medical attention might have saved his life. He was then placed behind a trooper and taken to Hinchman’s Tavern in Jamaica, where Dr. Ogden was denied permission to treat his wounds. This occurred on August 28, 1776. The next day, he was taken west and put onboard an old ship off New Utrecht, which had previously been a cattle ship. He was then moved to the home of Wilhelmus Van Brunt in New Utrecht. His arm became gangrenous due to neglect, and it was decided that it had to be amputated. He sent a messenger to his wife, saying he had no hope of recovery and asked her to gather whatever food she could, as he had a large farm, and hurry to his side. She loaded a wagon with bread, ham, crackers, butter, and other supplies, and barely made it in time to see him alive. With his last breath, he asked her to share the provisions she had brought with the suffering and starving American prisoners.
Elias Baylis, who was old and blind, was chairman of the Jamaica Committee of Safety. He was captured and first imprisoned in the church at New Utrecht. Afterwards he was sent to the provost prison in New York. He had a very sweet voice, and was an earnest Christian. In the prison he used to console himself and his companions in misery by singing hymns and psalms. Through the intervention of his friends, his release was obtained after two months confinement, but the rigor of prison life had been too much for his feeble frame. He died, in the arms of his daughter, as he was in a boat crossing the ferry to his home.
Elias Baylis, who was elderly and blind, served as the chairman of the Jamaica Committee of Safety. He was captured and initially imprisoned in the church at New Utrecht. Later, he was transferred to the provost prison in New York. He had a very soothing voice and was a devoted Christian. In prison, he would comfort himself and his fellow inmates by singing hymns and psalms. Thanks to the support of his friends, he was released after two months of confinement, but the harsh conditions of prison life proved to be too much for his fragile health. He passed away in his daughter's arms while crossing the ferry to return home.
While in the Presbyterian church in New Utrecht used as a prison by the British, he had for companions, Daniel Duryee, William Furman, William Creed, and two others, all put into one pew. Baylis asked them to get the Bible out of the pulpit and read it to him. They feared to do this, but consented to lead the blind man to the pulpit steps. As he returned with the Bible in his hands a British guard met him, beat him violently and took away the book. They were three weeks in the church at New Utrecht. When a sufficient number of Whig prisoners were collected there they would be marched under guard to a prison ship. One old Whig named Smith, while being conducted to his destination, appealed to an onlooker, a Tory of his acquaintance, to intercede for him. The cold reply of his neighbor was, “Ah, John, you’ve been a great rebel!” Smith turned to another of his acquaintances named McEvers, and said to him, “McEvers, its hard for an old man like me to have to go to a prison! Can’t you do something for me?”
While at the Presbyterian church in New Utrecht, which was being used as a prison by the British, he had companions: Daniel Duryee, William Furman, William Creed, and two others, all cramped into one pew. Baylis asked them to fetch the Bible from the pulpit and read it to him. They were hesitant to do this but agreed to help the blind man to the pulpit steps. When he returned with the Bible, a British guard confronted him, beat him harshly, and took the book away. They spent three weeks in the church at New Utrecht. Once enough Whig prisoners were gathered, they would be escorted under guard to a prison ship. An older Whig named Smith, while being led to his destination, asked a Tory acquaintance watching nearby to help him. The cold response he received was, “Ah, John, you’ve been a great rebel!” Smith then turned to another acquaintance named McEvers and said, “McEvers, it’s tough for an old guy like me to have to go to prison! Can’t you do something for me?”
“What have you been doing, John?”
“What have you been up to, John?”
“Why, I’ve had opinions of my own!”
“Why, I’ve had my own opinions!”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do for you.”
McEvers then went to see the officers in charge and made such representations to them that Smith was immediately released.
McEvers then went to talk to the officers in charge and made such convincing arguments that Smith was released right away.
Adrian Onderdonk was taken to Flushing and shut up in the old Friends’ Meeting House there, which is one of the oldest places of worship in America. Next day he was taken to New York. He, with other prisoners, was paraded through the streets to the provost, with a gang of loose women marching before them, to add insult to suffering.
Adrian Onderdonk was taken to Flushing and locked up in the old Friends’ Meeting House there, which is one of the oldest places of worship in America. The next day, he was taken to New York. He, along with other prisoners, was marched through the streets to the provost, with a group of loose women leading the way, adding insult to their suffering.
Onderdonk says: “After awhile the rigor of the prison rules was somewhat abated.” He was allowed to write home, which he did in Dutch, for provisions, such as smoked beef, butter, etc. * * * His friends procured a woman to do his washing, prepare food and bring it to him. * * * One day as he was walking through the rooms followed by his constant attendant, a negro with coils of rope around his neck, this man asked Onderdonk what he was imprisoned for.
Onderdonk says, “After some time, the strictness of the prison rules lessened a bit.” He was allowed to write home, which he did in Dutch, asking for supplies like smoked beef, butter, and so on. * * * His friends arranged for a woman to do his laundry, prepare meals, and bring them to him. * * * One day, while he was walking through the halls with his regular attendant, a Black man with coils of rope around his neck, this man asked Onderdonk what he was in prison for.
“‘I’ve been a Committee man,’” said he.
“‘I’ve been on the Committee,’” he said.
“‘Well,’ with an oath and a great deal of abuse, ‘You shall be hung tomorrow.’”
“‘Well,’ with a curse and a lot of insults, ‘You’re going to be hanged tomorrow.’”
This mulatto was named Richmond, and was the common hangman. He used to parade the provost with coils of ropes, requesting the prisoners to choose their own halters. He it was who hung the gallant Nathan Hale, and was Cunningham’s accessory in all his brutal midnight murders. In Gaine’s paper for August 4th, 1781, appears the following advertisement: “One Guinea Reward, ran away a black man named Richmond, being the common hangman, formerly the property of the rebel Colonel Patterson of Pa.
This mixed-race man was named Richmond, and he was the local executioner. He would walk around the prison with coils of ropes, asking prisoners to pick their own nooses. He was the one who executed the brave Nathan Hale and assisted Cunningham in all his violent midnight killings. In Gaine’s paper from August 4th, 1781, there's an advertisement that reads: “One Guinea Reward, a black man named Richmond has run away. He is the common hangman, formerly owned by the rebel Colonel Patterson of Pennsylvania."
“Wm. Cunningham.”
“Wm. Cunningham”
After nearly four weeks imprisonment the friends of Adrian Onderdonk procured his release. He was brought home in a wagon in the night, so pale, thin, and feeble from bodily suffering that his family scarcely recognized him. His constitution was shattered and he never recovered his former strength.
After almost four weeks in prison, Adrian Onderdonk's friends arranged for his release. He was brought home at night in a cart, so pale, thin, and weak from his suffering that his family could hardly recognize him. His health was ruined, and he never regained his former strength.
Onderdonk says that women often brought food for the prisoners in little baskets, which, after examination, were handed in. Now and then the guard might intercept what was sent, or Cunningham, if the humor took him, as he passed through the hall, might kick over vessels of soup, placed there by the charitable for the poor and friendless prisoners.
Onderdonk mentions that women often brought food for the prisoners in small baskets, which were checked and then handed over. Occasionally, the guard might stop what was being sent, or Cunningham, if he was in the mood, might kick over bowls of soup that had been left there by kind people for the needy and lonely prisoners.
EXTRACT FROM A BETTER FROM DR. SILAS HOLMES
EXTRACT FROM A LETTER FROM DR. SILAS HOLMES
“The wounded prisoners taken at the battle of Brooklyn were put in the churches of Flatbush and New Utrecht, but being neglected and unattended were wallowing in their own filth, and breathed an infected and impure air. Ten days after the battle Dr. Richard Bailey was appointed to superintend the sick. He was humane, and dressed the wounded daily; got a sack bed, sheet, and blanket for each prisoner; and distributed the prisoners into the adjacent barns. When Mrs. Woodhull offered to pay Dr. Bailey for his care and attention to her husband, he said he had done no more than his duty, and if there was anything due it was to me.”
“The wounded prisoners captured in the battle of Brooklyn were placed in the churches of Flatbush and New Utrecht, but since they were ignored and left without care, they were wallowing in their own filth and inhaling infected, foul air. Ten days after the battle, Dr. Richard Bailey was assigned to oversee the sick. He was compassionate and treated the wounded daily; he arranged for a sack bed, sheet, and blanket for each prisoner and moved them to nearby barns. When Mrs. Woodhull offered to pay Dr. Bailey for his care and attention to her husband, he replied that he had only done his duty, and if anyone owed anything, it was to me.”
Woodhull’s wounds were neglected nine days before Dr. Bailey was allowed to attend them.
Woodhull's injuries were ignored for nine days before Dr. Bailey was permitted to treat them.
How long the churches were used as prisons cannot be ascertained, but we have no account of prisoners confined in any of them after the year 1777. In the North Dutch Church in New York there were, at one time, eight hundred prisoners huddled together. It was in this church that bayonet marks were discernible on its pillars, many years after the war.
How long the churches were used as prisons isn't clear, but there are no records of prisoners being held in them after 1777. At one point, there were eight hundred prisoners crammed into the North Dutch Church in New York. Many years after the war, you could still see bayonet marks on the pillars of this church.
The provost and old City Hall were used as prisons until Evacuation Day, when O’Keefe threw his ponderous bunch of keys on the floor and retired. The prisoners are said to have asked him where they were to go.
The provost and the old City Hall were used as prisons until Evacuation Day, when O’Keefe tossed his heavy bunch of keys on the floor and left. The prisoners reportedly asked him where they were supposed to go.
“To hell, for what I care,” he replied.
“To hell with it,” he replied.
“In the Middle Dutch Church,” says Mr. John Pintard, who was a nephew of Commissary Pintard, “the prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort Washington, sick, wounded, and well, were all indiscriminately huddled together, by hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by disease, and many undoubtedly poisoned by inhuman attendants for the sake of their watches, or silver buckles.”
“In the Middle Dutch Church,” says Mr. John Pintard, who was a nephew of Commissary Pintard, “the prisoners captured on Long Island and at Fort Washington, whether sick, injured, or healthy, were all mixed together, by the hundreds and thousands. A large number of them died from disease, and many were undoubtedly poisoned by cruel attendants for the sake of their watches or silver buckles.”
“What was called the Brick Church was at first used as a prison, but soon it and the Presbyterian Church in Wall Street, the Scotch Church in Cedar Street, and the Friends’ Meeting House were converted into hospitals.”
“What was known as the Brick Church was initially used as a prison, but it, along with the Presbyterian Church on Wall Street, the Scotch Church on Cedar Street, and the Friends’ Meeting House, was soon turned into hospitals.”
Oliver Woodruff, who died at the age of ninety, was taken prisoner at Fort Washington, and left the following record: “We were marched to New York and went into different prisons. Eight hundred and sixteen went into the New Bridewell (between the City Hall and Broadway); some into the Sugar House; others into the Dutch Church. On Thursday morning they brought us a little provision, which was the first morsel we got to eat or drink after eating our breakfast on Saturday morning. * * * I was there (in New Bridewell) three months. In the dungeons of the old City Hall which stood on the site of what was afterwards the Custom House at first civil offenders were confined, but afterwards whale-boatmen and robbers.”
Oliver Woodruff, who passed away at ninety, was captured at Fort Washington and left behind the following account: “We were marched to New York and taken to different prisons. Eight hundred and sixteen of us ended up in the New Bridewell (between City Hall and Broadway); some went to the Sugar House; others to the Dutch Church. On Thursday morning, they brought us a small amount of food, which was the first thing we had to eat or drink since our breakfast on Saturday morning. * * * I was held there (in New Bridewell) for three months. In the dungeons of the old City Hall, which was located where the Custom House later stood, civil offenders were initially held, but later it included whale-boatmen and thieves.”
Robert Troup, a young lieutenant in Colonel Lasher’s battalion, testified that he and Lieut. Edward Dunscomb, Adjutant Hoogland, and two volunteers were made prisoners by a detachment of British troops at three o’clock a m. on the 27th of August, 1776. They were carried before the generals and interrogated, with threats of hanging. Thence they were led to a house near Flatbush. At 9 a. m. they were led, in the rear of the army, to Bedford. Eighteen officers captured that morning were confined in a small soldier’s tent for two nights and nearly three days. It was raining nearly all the time. Sixty privates, also, had but one tent, while at Bedford the provost marshal, Cunningham, brought with him a negro with a halter, telling them the negro had already hung several, and he imagined he would hang some more. The negro and Cunningham also heaped abuse upon the prisoners, showing them the halter, and calling them rebels, scoundrels, robbers, murderers, etc.
Robert Troup, a young lieutenant in Colonel Lasher’s battalion, testified that he and Lt. Edward Dunscomb, Adjutant Hoogland, and two volunteers were captured by a group of British troops at 3 a.m. on August 27, 1776. They were brought before the generals and questioned under the threat of hanging. After that, they were taken to a house near Flatbush. At 9 a.m., they were moved to Bedford, behind the army. Eighteen officers who were captured that morning were kept in a small soldier's tent for two nights and nearly three days. It rained almost the entire time. Sixty privates were also cramped into one tent, while at Bedford, the provost marshal, Cunningham, brought along a Black man with a noose, claiming that the man had already hung several people and that he expected to hang more. The man and Cunningham also insulted the prisoners, showing them the noose and calling them rebels, scoundrels, robbers, murderers, and more.
From Bedford they were led to Flatbush, and confined a week in a house belonging to a Mr. Leffert, on short allowance of biscuit and salt pork. Several Hessians took pity on them and gave them apples, and once some fresh beef.
From Bedford, they were taken to Flatbush and held for a week in a house owned by a Mr. Leffert, getting only a small amount of biscuits and salt pork. A few Hessians felt sorry for them and gave them apples, and once, some fresh beef.
From Flatbush after a week, he, with seventy or eighty other officers, were put on board a snow, lying between Gravesend and the Hook, without bedding or blankets; afflicted with vermin; soap and fresh water for washing purposes being denied them. They drank and cooked with filthy water brought from England. The captain charged a very large commission for purchasing necessaries for them with the money they procured from their friends.
From Flatbush after a week, he and about seventy or eighty other officers were put on board a ship, sitting between Gravesend and the Hook, without bedding or blankets; suffering from pests; soap and fresh water for washing were denied to them. They drank and cooked with dirty water brought from England. The captain took a huge cut for buying essentials for them with the money they got from their friends.
After six weeks spent on the snow they were taken on the 17th of October to New York and confined in a house near Bridewell. At first they were not allowed any fuel, and afterwards only a little coal for three days in the week. Provisions were dealt out very negligently, were scanty, and of bad quality. Many were ill and most of them would have died had their wants not been supplied by poor people and loose women of the town, who took pity on them.
After spending six weeks in the snow, they were taken on October 17th to New York and placed in a house near Bridewell. At first, they weren’t given any fuel, and later only a little coal for three days a week. The food was provided very poorly, was in short supply, and of bad quality. Many were sick, and most would have died if it hadn’t been for the help from poor people and women of the town who felt sorry for them.
“Shortly after the capture of Fort Washington these officers were paroled and allowed the freedom of the town. Nearly half the prisoners taken on Long Island died. The privates were treated with great inhumanity, without fuel, or the common necessaries of life, and were obliged to obey the calls of nature in places of their confinement.” It is said that the British did not hang any of the prisoners taken in August on Long Island, but “played the fool by making them ride with a rope around their necks, seated on coffins, to the gallows. Major Otho Williams was so treated.”
“Shortly after Fort Washington was captured, these officers were released on parole and given freedom in the town. Almost half of the prisoners taken on Long Island died. The privates were treated extremely poorly, lacking fuel and basic necessities, and had to relieve themselves in their confinement areas.” It is said that the British did not execute any of the prisoners taken in August on Long Island but “played a cruel joke by making them ride with a rope around their necks, sitting on coffins, to the gallows. Major Otho Williams was subjected to this treatment.”
“Adolph Myer, late of Colonel Lasher’s battalion, says he was taken by the British at Montresor’s Island. They threatened twice to hang him, and had a rope fixed to a tree. He was led to General Howe’s quarters near Turtle Bay, who ordered him to be bound hand and foot. He was confined four days on bread and water, in the ‘condemned hole’ of the New Jail, without straw or bedding. He was next put into the College, and then into the New Dutch Church, whence he escaped on the twenty-fourth of January, 1777. He was treated with great inhumanity, and would have died had he not been supported by his friends. * * * Many prisoners died from want, and others were reduced to such wretchedness as to attract the attention of the loose women of the town, from whom they received considerable assistance. No care was taken of the sick, and if any died they were thrown at the door of the prison and lay there until the next day, when they were put in a cart and drawn out to the intrenchments beyond the Jews’ burial ground, when they were interred by their fellow prisoners, conducted thither for that purpose. The dead were thrown into a hole promiscuously, without the usual rites of sepulchre. Myer was frequently enticed to enlist.” This is one of the few accounts we have from a prisoner who was confined in one of the churches in New York, and he was so fortunate as to escape before it was too late. We wish he had given the details of his escape. In such a gloomy picture as we are obliged to present to our readers the only high lights are occasional acts of humanity, and such incidents as fortunate escapes.
“Adolph Myer, formerly of Colonel Lasher’s battalion, says he was captured by the British at Montresor’s Island. They threatened to hang him twice and even had a rope tied to a tree. He was taken to General Howe’s headquarters near Turtle Bay, who ordered him to be tied up hand and foot. He was held for four days on only bread and water in the ‘condemned hole’ of the New Jail, without straw or bedding. He was then moved to the College and later to the New Dutch Church, from where he escaped on January 24, 1777. He faced severe mistreatment and would have died if not for the support of his friends. * * * Many prisoners died from lack of food, and others were reduced to such misery that they caught the attention of the local women, who provided them with significant help. No care was given to the sick, and when someone died, their body was thrown at the prison door and left there until the next day, when it was taken away in a cart to the trenches beyond the Jewish burial ground, where they were buried by fellow prisoners brought there for that purpose. The dead were dumped into a hole haphazardly, without the usual burial rites. Myer was often tempted to enlist.” This is one of the few accounts we have from a prisoner who was held in one of the churches in New York, and he was fortunate enough to escape before it was too late. We wish he had shared more details about his escape. In the grim picture we are forced to present to our readers, the only bright spots are occasional acts of kindness and fortunate escapes.
It would appear, from many proofs, that the Hessian soldier was naturally a good-natured being, and he seems to have been the most humane of the prison guards. We will see, as we go on, instances of the kindness of these poor exiled mercenaries, to many of whom the war was almost as great a scene of calamity and suffering as it was to the wretched prisoners under their care.
It seems, from various evidence, that the Hessian soldier was naturally a kind person, and he appears to have been the most caring of the prison guards. As we continue, we’ll see examples of the compassion of these unfortunate exiled mercenaries, many of whom experienced the war as almost as much of a disaster and suffering as the miserable prisoners they were responsible for.
“Lieutenant Catlin, taken September 15th, ‘76, was confined in prison with no sustenance for forty-eight hours; for eleven days he had only two days allowance of pork offensive to the smell, bread hard, mouldy and wormy, made of canail and dregs of flax-seed; water brackish. ‘I have seen $1.50 given for a common pail full. Three or four pounds of poor Irish pork were given to three men for three days. In one church were 850 prisoners for near three months.’”
“Lieutenant Catlin, captured on September 15, ’76, was imprisoned without food for forty-eight hours; for eleven days, he received only two days' worth of pork that smelled bad, hard, moldy, and wormy bread made from scraps and leftover flaxseed; the water was dirty. 'I have seen $1.50 paid for a regular bucket full. Three or four pounds of bad Irish pork were given to three men for three days. In one church, there were 850 prisoners for nearly three months.’”
“About the 25th of December he with 225 men were put on board the Glasgow at New York to be carried to Connecticut for exchange. They were aboard eleven days, and kept on coarse broken bread, and less pork than before, and had no fire for sick or well; crowded between decks, where twenty-eight died through ill-usage and cold.” (This is taken from the “History of Litchfield,” page 39.)
“On about December 25th, he and 225 men were placed on the Glasgow in New York to be taken to Connecticut for exchange. They were on board for eleven days, eating only coarse broken bread and even less pork than before, with no fire for the sick or healthy; they were crowded below deck, where twenty-eight died from mistreatment and the cold.” (This is taken from the “History of Litchfield,” page 39.)
EXTRACT FROM A LETTER DATED NEW YORK, DEC. 26, 1776
EXTRACT FROM A LETTER DATED NEW YORK, DEC. 26, 1776
“The distress of the prisoners cannot be communicated in words. Twenty or thirty die every day; they lie in heaps unburied; what numbers of my countrymen have died by cold and hunger, perished for want of the common necessaries of life! I have seen it! This, sir, is the boasted British clemency! I myself had well nigh perished under it. The New England people can have no idea of such barbarous policy. Nothing can stop such treatment but retaliation. I ever despised private revenge, but that of the public must be in this case, both just and necessary; it is due to the manes of our murdered countrymen, and that alone can protect the survivors in the like situation. Rather than experience again their barbarity and insults, may I fall by the sword of the Hessians.”
“The suffering of the prisoners can’t be described in words. Twenty or thirty die every day; they lie in heaps unburied. So many of my countrymen have died from cold and hunger, perishing for lack of basic necessities! I’ve seen it! This, sir, is the so-called British kindness! I nearly died from it myself. The people of New England can’t even imagine such cruel policies. Nothing can stop this treatment except retaliation. I’ve always looked down on personal revenge, but public revenge is just and necessary in this case; it’s owed to the spirits of our murdered countrymen, and it’s the only thing that can protect the survivors in similar situations. I’d rather die by the sword of the Hessians than face their brutality and insults again.”
Onderdonk, who quotes this fragment, gives us no clue to the writer. A man named S. Young testifies that, “he was taken at Fort Washington and, with 500 prisoners, was kept in a barn, and had no provisions until Monday night, when the enemy threw into the stable, in a confused manner, as if to so many hogs, a quantity of biscuits in crumbs, mostly mouldy, and some crawling with maggots, which the prisoners were obliged to scramble for without any division. Next day they had a little pork which they were obliged to eat raw. Afterwards they got sometimes a bit of pork, at other times biscuits, peas, and rice. They were confined two weeks in a church, where they suffered greatly from cold, not being allowed any fire. Insulted by soldiers, women, and even negroes. Great numbers died, three, four, or more, sometimes, a day. Afterwards they were carried on board a ship, where 500 were confined below decks.”
Onderdonk, who quotes this fragment, doesn't give us any clue about the writer. A man named S. Young states that, “he was taken at Fort Washington and, along with 500 prisoners, was kept in a barn without any food until Monday night, when the enemy threw a bunch of biscuits, mostly moldy and some crawling with maggots, into the stable in a chaotic way, as if they were feeding animals, and the prisoners had to scramble for them without any organization. The next day they had a little pork that they were forced to eat raw. After that, they sometimes got a bit of pork, and at other times biscuits, peas, and rice. They were held in a church for two weeks, where they suffered a lot from the cold since they weren't allowed any fire. They were insulted by soldiers, women, and even black people. A large number died, sometimes three, four, or more a day. Later on, they were taken aboard a ship, where 500 were confined below decks.”
The date of this testimony is given as Dec. 15th, 1776: “W. D. says the prisoners were roughly used at Harlem on their way from Fort Washington to New York, where 800 men were stored in the New Bridewell, which was a cold, open house, the windows not glazed. They had not one mouthful from early Saturday morning until Monday. Rations per man for three days were half a pound of biscuit, half a pound of pork, half a gill of rice, half a pint of peas, and half an ounce of butter, the whole not enough for one good meal, and they were defrauded in this petty allowance. They had no straw to lie on, no fuel but one cart load per week for 800 men. At nine o’clock the Hessian guards would come and put out the fire, and lay on the poor prisoners with heavy clubs, for sitting around the fire.
The date of this testimony is given as Dec. 15th, 1776: “W. D. says the prisoners were treated harshly at Harlem on their way from Fort Washington to New York, where 800 men were crammed into the New Bridewell, a cold, drafty place with unglazed windows. They didn’t get a single bite to eat from early Saturday morning until Monday. The rations per man for three days consisted of half a pound of biscuits, half a pound of pork, half a gill of rice, half a pint of peas, and half an ounce of butter—barely enough for one decent meal, and they were shortchanged even on that. They had no straw to sleep on, and only one cartload of firewood per week for all 800 men. At nine o’clock, the Hessian guards would come and put out the fire, and they would beat the poor prisoners with heavy clubs for sitting around the fire.”
“The water was very bad, as well as the bread. Prisoners died like rotten sheep, with cold, hunger, and dirt; and those who had good apparel, such as buckskin breeches, or good coats, were necessitated to sell them to purchase bread to keep them alive.” Hinman, page 277.
“The water was terrible, and the bread wasn’t any better. Prisoners died like spoiled sheep from the cold, hunger, and filth; and those who had nice clothes, like buckskin pants or good coats, had to sell them to buy bread to stay alive.” Hinman, page 277.
“Mrs. White left New York Jan. 20th, 1777. She says Bridewell, the College, the New Jail, the Baptist Meeting House, and the tavern lately occupied by Mr. De la Montaigne and several other houses are filled with sick and wounded of the enemy. General Lee was under guard in a small mean house at the foot of King Street. Wm. Slade says 800 prisoners taken at Fort Washington were put into the North church. On the first of December 300 were taken from the church to the prison ship. December second he, with others, was marched to the Grosvenor transport in the North River; five hundred were crowded on board. He had to lie down before sunset to secure a place.” Trumbull Papers.
“Mrs. White left New York on January 20, 1777. She says that Bridewell, the College, the New Jail, the Baptist Meeting House, and the tavern recently occupied by Mr. De la Montaigne, along with several other houses, are filled with sick and wounded enemy soldiers. General Lee was being guarded in a small, shabby house at the foot of King Street. Wm. Slade reports that 800 prisoners taken at Fort Washington were placed in the North church. On December 1, 300 were taken from the church to the prison ship. On December 2, he and others were marched to the Grosvenor transport in the North River; five hundred were crammed aboard. He had to lie down before sunset to secure a spot.” Trumbull Papers.
“Henry Franklin affirms that about two days after the taking of Fort Washington he was in New York, and went to the North Church, in which were about 800 prisoners taken in said Fort. He inquired into their treatment, and they told him they fared hard on account both of provisions and lodging, for they were not allowed any bedding, or blankets, and the provisions had not been regularly dealt out, so that the modest or backward could get little or none, nor had they been allowed any fuel to dress their victuals. The prisoners in New York were very sickly, and died in considerable numbers.”
“Henry Franklin states that about two days after the capture of Fort Washington, he was in New York and went to the North Church, where about 800 prisoners taken from the fort were held. He asked about their treatment, and they told him they were struggling due to both food and shelter issues. They weren’t given any bedding or blankets, and the food wasn’t distributed evenly, so those who were shy or hesitant received little to none. They also weren’t given any fuel to prepare their meals. The prisoners in New York were quite ill and many of them died.”
“Feb. 11, 1777. Joshua Loring, Commissary of Prisoners, says that but little provisions had been sent in by the rebels for their prisoners.” Gaine’s Mercury.
“Feb. 11, 1777. Joshua Loring, Commissary of Prisoners, states that very few supplies have been sent in by the rebels for their prisoners.” Gaine’s Mercury.
Jan. 4th. 1777. “Seventy-seven prisoners went into the Sugar House. N. Murray says 800 men were in Bridewell. The doctor gave poison powders to the prisoners, who soon died. Some were sent to Honduras to cut logwood; women came to the prison-gate to sell gingerbread.” Trumbull Papers.
Jan. 4th. 1777. “Seventy-seven prisoners were taken to the Sugar House. N. Murray reports that 800 men were held in Bridewell. The doctor provided poison powders to the prisoners, who soon died. Some were sent to Honduras to cut logwood; women came to the prison-gate to sell gingerbread.” Trumbull Papers.
The New York Gazette of May 6th, 1777, states that “of 3000 prisoners taken at Fort Washington, only 800 are living.”
The New York Gazette from May 6th, 1777, reports that “out of 3000 prisoners taken at Fort Washington, only 800 are alive.”
Mr. Onderdonk says: “There seems to have been no systematic plan adopted by the citizens of New York for the relief of the starving prisoners. We have scattering notices of a few charitable individuals, such as the following:—‘Mrs. Deborah Franklin was banished from New York Nov. 21st, 1780, by the British commandant, for her unbounded liberality to the American prisoners. Mrs. Ann Mott was associated with Mrs. Todd and Mrs. Whitten in relieving the sufferings of American prisoners in New York, during the Revolution. John Fillis died at Halifax, 1792, aged 68. He was kind to American prisoners in New York. Jacob Watson, Penelope Hull, etc., are also mentioned.’”
Mr. Onderdonk says: “It looks like the citizens of New York never put together a solid plan to help the starving prisoners. We have a few scattered mentions of some charitable individuals, like the following:—‘Mrs. Deborah Franklin was expelled from New York on Nov. 21st, 1780, by the British commandant, due to her great generosity towards the American prisoners. Mrs. Ann Mott worked with Mrs. Todd and Mrs. Whitten to ease the suffering of American prisoners in New York during the Revolution. John Fillis died in Halifax in 1792 at the age of 68. He was kind to American prisoners in New York. Jacob Watson, Penelope Hull, and others are also mentioned.’”
BRITISH ACCOUNT OF MORTALITY OF PRISONERS
BRITISH ACCOUNT OF MORTALITY OF PRISONERS
“P. Dobbyn, master of a transport, thus writes from New York, Jan. 15th, 1777. ‘We had four or five hundred prisoners on board our ships, but they had such bad distempers that each ship buried ten or twelve a day.’ Another writer, under date of Jan. 14th, ‘77, says, ‘The Churches are full of American prisoners, who die so fast that 25 or 30 are buried at a time, in New York City. General Howe gave all who could walk their liberty, after taking their oath not to take up arms against his Majesty.’” (From a London Journal.)
“P. Dobbyn, captain of a transport ship, writes from New York, Jan. 15th, 1777: ‘We had four or five hundred prisoners on board our ships, but they were so ill that each ship buried ten or twelve a day.’ Another writer, on Jan. 14th, '77, notes, ‘The churches are filled with American prisoners, who are dying so quickly that 25 or 30 are buried at a time in New York City. General Howe released all who could walk after taking an oath not to fight against the crown.’” (From a London Journal.)
CHAPTER XIII. — A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE PROVOST
An old man named John Fell was taken up by the British, and confined for some months in the Provost prison. He managed to secrete writing materials and made notes of his treatment. He was imprisoned for being a Whig and one of the councilmen of Bergen, New Jersey. We will give his journal entire, as it is quoted by Mr. Onderdonk.
An old man named John Fell was captured by the British and kept in the Provost prison for several months. He managed to hide writing materials and took notes on how he was treated. He was imprisoned for being a Whig and one of the council members of Bergen, New Jersey. We will present his journal in full, as quoted by Mr. Onderdonk.
April 23rd, 1777. Last night I was taken prisoner from my house by 25 armed men (he lived in Bergen) who brought me down to Colonel Buskirk’s at Bergen Point, and from him I was sent to Gen. Pigot, at N. Y., who sent me with Captain Van Allen to the Provost Jail.
April 23rd, 1777. Last night, 25 armed men took me from my house (I lived in Bergen) and brought me to Colonel Buskirk’s place at Bergen Point. From there, I was sent to General Pigot in New York, who then sent me with Captain Van Allen to the Provost Jail.
24th. Received from Mrs. Curzon, by the hands of Mr. Amiel, $16, two shirts, two stocks, some tea, sugar, pepper, towels, tobacco, pipes, paper, and a bed and bedding.
24th. Received from Mrs. Curzon, through Mr. Amiel, $16, two shirts, two neckties, some tea, sugar, pepper, towels, tobacco, pipes, paper, and a bed with bedding.
May 1st. Dr. Lewis Antle and Capt. Thomas Golden at the door, refused admittance.
May 1st. Dr. Lewis Antle and Capt. Thomas Golden at the door, denied entry.
May 2nd. 6 10 P. M. died John Thomas, of smallpox, aged 70 & inoculated.
May 2nd. 6:10 P.M. John Thomas died of smallpox at the age of 70 and was inoculated.
5th. Capt. Colden has brought from Mr. Curson $16.00.
5th. Captain Colden has received $16.00 from Mr. Curson.
11. Dr. Antle came to visit me. Nero at the door. (A dog?)
11. Dr. Antle came to visit me. Nero was at the door. (A dog?)
13. Cold weather.
Chilly weather.
20. Lewis Pintard came per order of Elias Boudinot to offer me money. Refused admittance. Capt. Colden came to visit me.
20. Lewis Pintard came at the request of Elias Boudinot to offer me money. I refused to let him in. Capt. Colden came to see me.
21. Capt and Mrs Corne came to visit me, and I was called downstairs to see them.
21. Captain and Mrs. Corne came to visit me, and I was called downstairs to see them.
23. Lewis Pintard came as Commissary to take account of officers, in order to assist them with money.
23. Lewis Pintard arrived as Commissary to account for the officers and help them with funds.
24. Every person refused admittance to the Provost.
24. Everyone was denied entry to the Provost.
25. All prisoners paraded in the hall: supposed to look for deserters.
25. All the prisoners were lined up in the hall: meant to identify any deserters.
27. Rev. Mr. Hart and Col. Smith brought to the Provost from Long Island.
27. Rev. Mr. Hart and Col. Smith brought the Provost from Long Island.
29. Stormy in Provost.
Stormy in Provost.
30. Not allowed to fetch good water.
30. Not allowed to get clean water.
31. Bad water; proposing buying tea-water, but refused. This night ten prisoners from opposite room ordered into ours, in all twenty.
31. Bad water; suggested buying tea water, but it was refused. That night, ten prisoners from the opposite room were moved into ours, making a total of twenty.
June 1. Continued the same today.
June 1. Kept it consistent today.
2. The people ordered back to their own room.
2. The people were sent back to their own room.
3. Captain Van Zandt sent to the dungeon for resenting Captain Cunningham’s insulting and abusing me.
3. Captain Van Zandt was sent to the dungeon for reacting to Captain Cunningham’s insults and abuse towards me.
4. Capt. Adams brought into our room. At 9 P.M. candles ordered out.
4. Capt. Adams came into our room. At 9 P.M., candles were brought in.
7. Captain Van Zandt returned from the dungeon.
7. Captain Van Zandt came back from the dungeon.
8. All prisoners paraded and called over and delivered to care of Sergt. Keath. (O’Keefe, probably.) And told we are all alike, no distinction to be made.
8. All prisoners were paraded, called over, and handed over to the care of Sgt. Keath. (Probably O’Keefe.) We were told that we are all the same, with no distinctions to be made.
10. Prisoners very sickly.
10. Prisoners are very ill.
11. Mr Richards from Connecticut exchanged.
11. Mr. Richards from Connecticut exchanged.
12. Exceeding strict and severe. “Out Lights!”
12. Going beyond what is strict and harsh. “Out Lights!”
13. Melancholy scene, women refused speaking to their sick husbands, and treated cruelly by sentries.
13. It was a sad scene; the women wouldn't talk to their sick husbands and were treated harshly by the guards.
14. Mr. James Ferris released on parole. People in jail very sickly and not allowed a doctor.
14. Mr. James Ferris has been released on parole. People in jail are very sick and not allowed to see a doctor.
17. Capt. Corne came to speak to me; not allowed.
17. Captain Corne came to talk to me; I wasn't allowed.
18. Letter from prisoners to Sergeant Keath, requesting more privileges.
18. Letter from inmates to Sergeant Keath, asking for more privileges.
19. Received six bottles claret and sundry small articles, but the note not allowed to come up.
19. Got six bottles of claret and a few other small items, but the note wasn't allowed to be mentioned.
20. Memorandum sent to Gen. Pigot with list of grievances.
20. Memorandum sent to Gen. Pigot with a list of complaints.
21. Answered. “Grant no requests made by prisoners.”
21. Answered. “Do not fulfill any requests from prisoners.”
22. Mrs. Banta refused speaking to her son.
22. Mrs. Banta refused to speak to her son.
23. Mr Haight died.
Mr. Haight has passed away.
24. Nineteen prisoners from Brunswick. Eighteen sent to the Sugar House.
24. Nineteen prisoners from Brunswick. Eighteen sent to the Sugar House.
25. Dr Bard came to visit Justice Moore, but his wife was refused, tho’ her husband was dying.
25. Dr. Bard came to visit Justice Moore, but his wife was refused, even though her husband was dying.
26. Justice Moore died and was carried out.
26. Justice Moore passed away and was taken out.
27. Several sick people removed below.
27. Several sick people were taken downstairs.
30. Provost very sickly and some die.
30. The provost is very sick, and some people are dying.
July 3. Received from Mrs Curson per Mrs. Marriner, two half Joes.
July 3. Received from Mrs. Curson through Mrs. Marriner, two half Joes.
6. Received of E. Boudinot, per Pintard, ten half Joes.
6. Received from E. Boudinot, through Pintard, ten half Joes.
7. Capt. Thomas Golden came to the grates to see me.
7. Captain Thomas Golden came to the grates to see me.
9. Two men carried out to be hung for desertion, reprieved.
9. Two men who were going to be hanged for desertion have been granted a reprieve.
11. Mr Langdon brought into our room.
11. Mr. Langdon came into our room.
13. The Sergeant removed a number of prisoners from below.
13. The Sergeant took several prisoners out from below.
14. Messrs Demarests exchanged. Dr. Romaine ordered to visit the sick.
14. The Demarests switched places. Dr. Romaine was instructed to visit the sick.
15. A declaration of more privileges, and prisoners allowed to speak at the windows.
15. A declaration of additional privileges, and prisoners allowed to speak at the windows.
17. Peter Zabriskie had an order to speak with me, and let me know that all was well at home
17. Peter Zabriskie had a request to talk to me and informed me that everything was good at home.
19. Sergt. from Sugar House came to take account of officers in the Provost. Capt. Cunningham in town.
19. Sergeant from Sugar House came to check on the officers in the Provost. Captain Cunningham in town.
21. Sergt. took account of officers. Capt. Jas. Lowry died.
21. Sergeant took account of the officers. Captain Jas. Lowry passed away.
22. Mr. Miller died. Capt. Lowry buried.
22. Mr. Miller passed away. Capt. Lowry took care of the burial.
Aug. 1. Very sick. Weather very hot.
Aug. 1. Feeling really unwell. The weather is extremely hot.
5. Barry sent to the dungeon for bringing rum for Mr Phillips without leave of the Sergt. Everything looks stormy.
5. Barry was sent to the dungeon for bringing rum for Mr. Phillips without permission from the Sergeant. Everything seems tense.
6. Warm weather. Growing better. Mr. Pintard came to supply prisoners of war with clothes.
6. Warm weather. Improving growth. Mr. Pintard came to provide clothes for prisoners of war.
10. Two prisoners from Long Island and four Lawrences from Tappan.
10. Two inmates from Long Island and four Lawrences from Tappan.
11. John Coven Cromwell from White Plains. Freeland from Polly (?) Fly whipped about salt.
11. John Coven Cromwell from White Plains. Freeland from Polly (?) Fly whipped around salt.
12. Sergt. Keath took all pens and ink out of each room, and forbid the use of any on pain of the dungeon.
12. Sergeant Keath removed all pens and ink from every room and prohibited their use under the threat of being sent to the dungeon.
13. Abraham Miller discharged.
Abraham Miller released.
14. Jacobus Blauvelt died in the morning, buried at noon.
14. Jacobus Blauvelt passed away in the morning and was buried at noon.
16. Capt. Ed. Travis brought into our room from the dungeon, where he had long been confined and cruelly treated.
16. Capt. Ed. Travis was brought into our room from the dungeon, where he had been locked up for a long time and treated harshly.
17. Mr. Keath refused me liberty to send a card to Mr Amiel for a lb of tobacco.
17. Mr. Keath refused to let me send a card to Mr. Amiel for a pound of tobacco.
21. Capt. Hyer discharged from the Provost.
21. Capt. Hyer was released from the Provost.
25. Barry brought up from the dungeon, and Capt. Travis sent down again without any provocation.
25. Barry was brought up from the dungeon, and Capt. Travis sent him back down again without any reason.
26. Badcock sent to dungeon for cutting wood in the evening. Locks put on all the doors, and threatened to be locked up. Col. Ethan Allen brought to the Provost from Long Island and confined below.
26. Badcock was sent to the dungeon for chopping wood at night. All the doors were locked, and he was threatened with being locked up. Colonel Ethan Allen was brought to the Provost from Long Island and was kept in confinement below.
27. Badcock discharged from below.
27. Badcock released from below.
30. 5 P.M. all rooms locked up close.
30. 5 P.M. all rooms are locked up tight.
31. A.M. Col Allen brought into our room.
31. A.M. Col Allen brought us into our room.
Sep. 1. Pleasant weather. Bad water.
Sep. 1. Nice weather. Poor drinking water.
4. Horrid scenes of whipping.
4. Terrible scenes of whipping.
6. Lewis Pintard brought some money for the officers. P.M. Major Otho H. Williams brought from Long Island and confined in our room. Major Wells from same place confined below. A. M. William Lawrence of Tappan died.
6. Lewis Pintard brought some money for the officers. P.M. Major Otho H. Williams came from Long Island and was kept in our room. Major Wells from the same place was held downstairs. A. M. William Lawrence of Tappan passed away.
8. Campbell, Taylor, John Cromwell, and Buchanan from Philadelphia discharged.
8. Campbell, Taylor, John Cromwell, and Buchanan from Philadelphia were released.
10. Provisions exceedingly ordinary,—pork very rusty, biscuit bad.
10. The food was really basic— the pork was very old, and the biscuits were terrible.
12. Capt. Travis, Capt. Chatham and others brought out of dungeon.
12. Capt. Travis, Capt. Chatham, and others were brought out of the dungeon.
14. Two prisoners from Jersey, viz: Thomas Campbell of Newark and Joralemon. (Jos. Lemon?)
14. Two prisoners from Jersey: Thomas Campbell from Newark and Joralemon. (Jos. Lemon?)
16. Troops returned from Jersey. Several prisoners brought to Provost viz:—Capt. Varick, Wm. Prevost Brower, etc. Seventeen prisoners from Long Island.
16. Troops came back from Jersey. Several prisoners were brought to the Provost, including Capt. Varick, Wm. Prevost Brower, and others. Seventeen prisoners from Long Island.
22. Nothing material. Major Wells brought from below upstairs.
22. Nothing significant. Major Wells brought something from downstairs up.
24. Received from Mr. Curson per Mr. Amiel four guineas, six bottles of wine, and one lb tobacco.
24. Received from Mr. Curson through Mr. Amiel four guineas, six bottles of wine, and one pound of tobacco.
26. Mr. Pintard carried list of prisoners and account of grievances to the General Capt. Chatham and others carried to dungeon.
26. Mr. Pintard took a list of prisoners and a report of grievances to General Capt. Chatham and others who were taken to the dungeon.
28. Yesterday a number of soldiers were sent below, and several prisoners brought out of dungeon. Statement of grievances presented to General Jones which much displeased Sergt. Keath who threatened to lock up the rooms.
28. Yesterday, a group of soldiers was sent down, and several prisoners were brought out of the dungeon. A list of grievances was presented to General Jones, which greatly upset Sergeant Keath, who threatened to lock up the rooms.
29. Last night Sergt. K. locked up all the rooms. Rev. Mr. Jas. Sears was admitted upstairs.
29. Last night, Sergeant K. locked all the rooms. Reverend Mr. Jas. Sears was let upstairs.
30. Sent Mr. Pintard a list of clothing wanted for continental and state prisoners in the Provost. Sergt. locks up all the rooms.
30. Sent Mr. Pintard a list of clothing needed for continental and state prisoners in the Provost. Sgt. locks up all the rooms.
Oct. 2. Candles ordered out at eight.—Not locked up.
Oct. 2. Candles ordered out at eight.—Not locked up.
4. Locked up. Great numbers of ships went up North River. Received sundries from Grove Bend. Three pair ribbed hose, three towels.
4. Locked up. A lot of ships headed up the North River. Received various items from Grove Bend: three pairs of ribbed hose and three towels.
5. Garret Miller, of Smith’s Cove, signed his will in prison, in presence of Benjamin Goldsmith, Abr. Skinner, and myself. C. G. Miller died of small-pox—P. M. Buried.
5. Garret Miller, from Smith’s Cove, signed his will in prison, in the presence of Benjamin Goldsmith, Abr. Skinner, and me. C. G. Miller died of smallpox—P. M. Buried.
7. Wm. Prevost discharged from Provost.
7. Wm. Prevost released from Provost.
8. Capt. Chatham and Lewis Thatcher brought out of dungeon.
8. Capt. Chatham and Lewis Thatcher were brought out of the dungeon.
10. Mr. Pintard sent up blankets, shoes, and stockings for the prisoners.
10. Mr. Pintard sent blankets, shoes, and socks for the prisoners.
12. Lt. Col. Livingstone and upwards of twenty officers from Fort Montgomery and Clinton, all below.
12. Lt. Col. Livingstone and more than twenty officers from Fort Montgomery and Clinton, all below.
13. Received from Mr. Pintard a letter by flag from Peter R. Fell, A. M. Mr. Noble came to the grates to speak to me.
13. I got a letter from Mr. Pintard through the flag from Peter R. Fell, A. M. Mr. Noble came to the gates to talk to me.
14. Sergt. Keath sent Lt. Mercer and Mr. Nath. Fitzrandolph to the dungeon for complaining that their room had not water sufficient.
14. Sergeant Keath sent Lieutenant Mercer and Mr. Nathan Fitzrandolph to the dungeon for complaining that their room didn’t have enough water.
15. Mr. Pintard brought sundry articles for the prisoners.
15. Mr. Pintard brought various items for the prisoners.
17. Mr. Antonio and other prisoners brought here from up North River.
17. Mr. Antonio and other inmates were brought here from up North River.
19. Ben Goldsmith ill of smallpox, made his will and gave it to me. Died two A. M. Oct. 20.
19. Ben Goldsmith, who was sick with smallpox, made his will and gave it to me. He died at 2 A.M. on October 20.
21. Glorious news from the Northward.
21. Great news from the North.
22. Confirmation strong as Holy Writ. Beef, loaf bread, and butter drawn today.
22. Confirmation strong as scripture. Today, we've got beef, loaf bread, and butter.
23. Weather continues very cold. Ice in the tub in the hall. A number of vessels came down North River. Mr. Wm. Bayard at the door to take out old Mr. Morris.
23. The weather remains extremely cold. There's ice in the tub in the hall. Several boats came down the North River. Mr. Wm. Bayard is at the door to take old Mr. Morris out.
24. Prisoners from the Sugar House sent on board ships.
24. Prisoners from the Sugar House were sent aboard ships.
25. Rev. Mr. Hart admitted on parole in the city. Sergt. Woolley from the Sugar House came to take names of officers, and says an exchange is expected.
25. Rev. Mr. Hart was released on parole in the city. Sergt. Woolley from the Sugar House came to take the names of the officers and mentioned that an exchange is anticipated.
28. Last night and today storm continues very severe. Provost in a terrible condition. Lt. Col. Livingston admitted upstairs a few minutes.
28. Last night and today the storm is still really severe. The Provost is in terrible shape. Lt. Col. Livingston was admitted upstairs for a few minutes.
Nov. 1. Lt. Callender of the train ordered back on Long Island; also several officers taken at Fort Montgomery sent on parole to Long Island.
Nov. 1. Lt. Callender of the train was ordered back to Long Island; also, several officers captured at Fort Montgomery were sent on parole to Long Island.
3. In the evening my daughter, Elizabeth Colden, came to see me, accompained by Mayor Matthews.
3. In the evening, my daughter, Elizabeth Colden, came to see me, accompanied by Mayor Matthews.
5. Elizabeth Colden came to let me know she was going out of town. Yesterday Sergt refused her the liberty of speaking to me. Gen. Robertson’s Aid-decamp came to inquire into grievances of prisoners.
5. Elizabeth Colden came to tell me she was going out of town. Yesterday, the sergeant denied her the chance to speak with me. General Robertson’s aide-de-camp came to check on the complaints of the prisoners.
16. Jail exceedingly disagreeable.—many miserable and shocking objects, nearly starved with cold and hunger,—miserable prospect before me.
16. Jail is extremely unpleasant. There are many miserable and shocking sights, nearly frozen from the cold and starving from hunger—a grim outlook ahead of me.
18. The Town Major and Town Adjutant came with a pretence of viewing the jail.
18. The Town Major and Town Adjutant arrived with the excuse of checking out the jail.
19. Peter and Cor. Van Tassel, two prisoners from Tarrytown, in our room.
19. Peter and Cor. Van Tassel, two prisoners from Tarrytown, in our room.
20 Mr. Pintard sent three barrels of flour to be distributed among the prisoners.
20 Mr. Pintard sent three barrels of flour to be given out to the prisoners.
21. Mr. Pintard came for an account of what clothing the prisoners wanted.
21. Mr. Pintard came to find out what clothing the prisoners needed.
24. Six tailors brought here from prison ship to work in making clothes for prisoners. They say the people on board are very sickly. Three hundred sent on board reduced to one hundred.
24. Six tailors were brought here from a prison ship to make clothes for prisoners. They say the people on board are very sick. Three hundred sent on board have been reduced to one hundred.
25. Mr. Dean and others brought to jail from the town.
25. Mr. Dean and others were brought to jail from the town.
26. Dean locked up by himself, and Mr. Forman brought upstairs attended by Rev. Mr. Inglis, and afterwards ordered downstairs. New order—one of the prisoners ordered to go to the Commissary’s and see the provisions dealt out for the prisoners. Vast numbers of people assembled at the Provost in expectation of seeing an execution.
26. Dean locked up alone, and Mr. Forman was brought upstairs with Rev. Mr. Inglis, then later sent downstairs. There was a new order—one of the prisoners was told to go to the Commissary’s and check on the provisions distributed for the prisoners. A huge crowd gathered at the Provost, hoping to witness an execution.
27. John, one of the milkmen, locked upstairs with a sentry at his door. A report by Mr. Webb that a prisoner, Herring, was come down to be exchanged for Mr Van Zandt or me.
27. John, one of the milkmen, was locked upstairs with a guard at his door. A report from Mr. Webb stated that a prisoner, Herring, had come down to be exchanged for either Mr. Van Zandt or me.
30. Captain Cunningham came to the Provost.
30. Captain Cunningham went to the Provost.
Dec. 1. Capt. Money came down with Mr Webb to be exchanged for Major Wells.
Dec. 1. Captain Money came down with Mr. Webb to be exchanged for Major Wells.
2. Col. Butler visited the Provost and promised a doctor should attend. Received from Mr Bend cloth for a great coat, etc. Mr. Pmtard took a list of clothing wanted for the prisoners.
2. Col. Butler visited the Provost and promised that a doctor would come. I received cloth from Mr. Bend for a great coat, etc. Mr. Pmtard made a list of clothing needed for the prisoners.
3. Several prisoners of war sent from here on board the prison shop, & some of the sick sent to the hospital, Dr Romaine being ordered by Sir H. Clinton to examine the sick Prisoners sickly: cause, cold. Prisoners in upper room (have) scanty clothing and only two bushels of coal for room of twenty men per week.
3. Several prisoners of war were sent from here on board the prison ship, and some of the sick were sent to the hospital, with Dr. Romaine being instructed by Sir H. Clinton to examine the sick prisoners who were ill due to the cold. The prisoners in the upper room have very little clothing and only two bushels of coal for a room of twenty men each week.
5. Mr. Blanch ordered out; said to be to go to Morristown to get prisoners exchanged. Cold.
5. Mr. Blanch sent for someone; he said he was going to Morristown to get prisoners exchanged. It's cold.
7. Mr. Webb came to acquaint Major Wells his exchange was agreed to with Capt. Money.
7. Mr. Webb came to inform Major Wells that his exchange was agreed upon with Capt. Money.
8. Major Gen. Robertson, with Mayor came to Provost to examine prisoners. I was called and examined, and requested my parole. The General said I had made bad use of indulgence granted me, in letting my daughter come to see me. * * *
8. Major Gen. Robertson came to the Provost with the Mayor to check on the prisoners. I was called in for questioning and asked for my parole. The General said I had taken advantage of the leniency I was given by allowing my daughter to visit me. * * *
9. Major Wells exchanged.
9. Major wells swapped.
10. Mr. Pintard sent 100 loaves for the prisoners. A. M. Walter Thurston died. Prisoners very sickly and die very fast from the hospitals and prison ships.
10. Mr. Pintard sent 100 loaves of bread for the prisoners. A. M. Walter Thurston passed away. The prisoners are very unwell and dying quickly from the hospitals and prison ships.
11. Some flags from North River.
11. Some flags from North River.
12. Abel Wells died, a tailor from the prison ship. Mr. Pintard brought letters for sundry people.
12. Abel Wells died, a tailor from the prison ship. Mr. Pintard delivered letters for various people.
14. Sunday. Guards more severe than ever notwithstanding General Robertson’s promise of more indulgence. Capt. Van Zandt brought from Long Island.
14. Sunday. The guards were harsher than ever, despite General Robertson's promise of more leniency. Captain Van Zandt brought supplies from Long Island.
16. Sent message to Mr Pintard for wood. Cold and entirely out of wood.
16. Sent a message to Mr. Pintard for firewood. It's cold, and we're completely out of wood.
17. Commissary Winslow came and released Major Winslow on his parole on Long Island.
17. Commissary Winslow came and released Major Winslow on his parole on Long Island.
18. Mr Pintard sent four cords of wood for the prisoners.
18. Mr. Pintard sent four cords of firewood for the prisoners.
19. Capt. John Paul Schoot released on parole. Mr Pintard with clothing for the people.
19. Capt. John Paul Schoot was released on parole. Mr. Pintard provided clothing for the individuals.
21. A paper found at the door of the Provost, intimating that three prisoners had a rope concealed in a bag in one of the rooms in order to make their escape. The Sergt. examined all the rooms, and at night we were all locked up.
21. A note was found at the Provost's door, indicating that three prisoners had a rope hidden in a bag in one of the rooms to plan their escape. The Sergeant searched all the rooms, and at night, we were all locked up.
22. Received from Mr Pintard 100 loaves and a quarter of beef.
22. Received from Mr. Pintard 100 loaves of bread and a quarter of beef.
24. Distributed clothing, etc., to the prisoners.
24. Distributed clothing, etc., to the prisoners.
28. Gen. Robertson sent a doctor to examine me in consequence of the petition sent by Col. Allen for my releasement. The doctor reported to Dr. Mallet.
28. Gen. Robertson sent a doctor to check on me because of the request from Col. Allen for my release. The doctor reported to Dr. Mallet.
29. Gen. Robertson sent me word I should be liberated in town, provided I procured a gentleman in town to be responsible for my appearance. Accordingly I wrote to Hon. H. White, Esq.
29. Gen. Robertson contacted me to say I would be released in town, as long as I found a gentleman in town to vouch for my appearance. So, I wrote to Hon. H. White, Esq.
30. Dr Romaine, with whom I sent the letter, said Mr White had a number of objections, but the doctor hoped to succeed in the afternoon. Mr. Winslow came and told the same story I heard the day before.
30. Dr. Romaine, who I sent the letter to, said Mr. White had several objections, but the doctor was hopeful about succeeding in the afternoon. Mr. Winslow came and shared the same story I heard the day before.
31. Sergt. Keath brought a message from the General to the same purpose as yesterday. N. B. I lost the memoranda from this date to the time of my being liberated from the Provost on Jan. 7, 1778.
31. Sergeant Keath delivered a message from the General that was similar to yesterday's. Note: I lost the notes from this date until I was released from the Provost on January 7, 1778.
New York Feb. 11. ‘78. Received a letter from Joshua Loring, Esq, Commissary of Prisoners, with leave from Gen. Robertson for my having the bounds of the city allowed me.
New York, Feb. 11, '78. I received a letter from Joshua Loring, Esq., Commissary of Prisoners, with permission from Gen. Robertson to have the boundaries of the city given to me.
March. 23. Wrote to Major Gen. Robertson and told him this was the eleventh month of my imprisonment.
March 23. I wrote to Major General Robertson and told him that this was the eleventh month of my imprisonment.
Fell’s note to the general follows, in which he begs to be liberated to the house of Mrs. Marriner, who kept an ordinary in the town. A card in reply from the general states that it is impossible to comply with his request until Mr. Fell’s friends give him sufficient security that he will not attempt to escape. A Mr. Langdon having broken his faith in like circumstances has given rise to a rule, which it is out of the general’s power to dispense with, etc, etc.
Fell’s note to the general follows, in which he asks to be allowed to go to Mrs. Marriner's house, who ran a tavern in town. A card in response from the general states that it’s impossible to fulfill his request until Mr. Fell’s friends provide enough assurance that he won’t try to escape. A Mr. Langdon, who betrayed his trust in similar situations, has led to a rule that the general cannot ignore, etc., etc.
“Feb. 4, 1778. I delivered to Mr. Pintard the wills of Garret Miller and Benjamin Goldsmith, to be forwarded to their respective families. Present E. Boudinot.
“Feb. 4, 1778. I handed over the wills of Garret Miller and Benjamin Goldsmith to Mr. Pintard so he could send them to their families. Present E. Boudinot.”
“May 20 ‘78, I had my parole extended by order of Gen. Daniel Jones, to my own house in Bergen County, for thirty days.
“May 20, '78, I had my parole extended by order of Gen. Daniel Jones, to my own house in Bergen County, for thirty days.
“July 2. I left town, and next day arrived safe home.
“July 2. I left town, and the next day I got home safely.
“Nov. 15, 1778 I received a certificate from A. Skinner, Deputy Com. of Prisoners of my being exchanged for Gov. Skene. Signed by Joshua Loring, Commissary General of Prisoners, dated New York, Oct 26 1778.”
“Nov. 15, 1778 I got a certificate from A. Skinner, Deputy Com. of Prisoners, confirming that I was exchanged for Gov. Skene. It was signed by Joshua Loring, Commissary General of Prisoners, dated New York, Oct 26 1778.”
CHAPTER XIV. — FURTHER TESTIMONY OF CRUELTIES ENDURED BY AMERICAN PRISONERS
Mr. Fell’s notes on his imprisonment present the best picture we can find of the condition of the Provost Jail during the term of his captivity. We have already seen how Mr Elias Boudinot, American Commissary of Prisoners, came to that place of confinement, and what he found there. This was in February, 1778. Boudinot also describes the sufferings of the American prisoners in the early part of 1778 in Philadelphia, and Mr. Fell speaks of Cunningham’s return to New York. He had, it appears, been occupied in starving prisoners in Philadelphia during his absence from the Provost, to which General Howe sent him back, after he had murdered one of his victims in Philadelphia with the great key.
Mr. Fell’s notes on his imprisonment provide the clearest view we have of the conditions at the Provost Jail during his time there. We’ve already seen how Mr. Elias Boudinot, the American Commissary of Prisoners, arrived at that jail and what he discovered. This took place in February 1778. Boudinot also talks about the hardships faced by American prisoners in early 1778 in Philadelphia, and Mr. Fell mentions Cunningham’s return to New York. It seems that he had been busy starving prisoners in Philadelphia while away from the Provost, to which General Howe sent him back after he killed one of his victims in Philadelphia with the big key.
It appears that the prisoners in the Provost sent an account of their treatment to General Jones, by Mr. Pintard, in September, 1777, several months before the visit of Mr. Elias Boudinot. They complained that they were closely confined in the jail without distinction of rank or character, amongst felons, a number of whom were under sentence of death: that their friends were not allowed to speak to them, even through the grates: that they were put on the scanty allowance of two pounds hard biscuit, and two pounds of raw pork per week, without fuel to dress it. That they were frequently supplied with water from a pump where all kinds of filth was thrown, by which it was rendered obnoxious and unwholesome, the effects of which were to cause much sickness. That good water could have been as easily obtained. That they were denied the benefit of a hospital; not permitted to send for medicine, nor to have the services of a doctor, even when in the greatest distress. That married men and others who lay at the point of death were refused permission to have their wives or other relations admitted to see them. And that these poor women, for attempting to gain admittance, were often beaten from the prison door. That commissioned officers, and others, persons of character and reputation, were frequently, without a cause, thrown into a loathsome dungeon, insulted in a gross manner, and vilely abused by a Provost Marshal, who was allowed to be one of the basest characters in the British Army, and whose power was so unlimited, that he had caned an officer, on a trivial occasion; and frequently beaten the sick privates when unable to stand, “many of whom are daily obliged to enlist in the New Corps to prevent perishing for want of the necessaries of life.
It seems that the prisoners in the Provost sent a report about their treatment to General Jones through Mr. Pintard in September 1777, several months before Mr. Elias Boudinot's visit. They complained about being locked up in jail without any consideration for their rank or status, alongside felons, many of whom were facing the death penalty. They said their friends weren’t allowed to talk to them, even through the bars. They were given a meager allowance of two pounds of hard biscuits and two pounds of raw pork per week, without any fuel to cook it. They were often provided with water from a pump where various kinds of waste were discarded, making it dirty and unhealthy, leading to a lot of sickness. They noted that clean water could have easily been sourced. They were denied access to a hospital, not allowed to request medicine, and couldn’t have a doctor attend to them even when they were in severe distress. Married men and others who were near death were not allowed to have their wives or family visit them. These poor women, just trying to see their loved ones, were often beaten away from the prison door. Commissioned officers and other respected individuals were frequently thrown into a disgusting dungeon for no reason, insulted in a horrible manner, and treated poorly by a Provost Marshal known to be one of the most despicable characters in the British Army. His power was so unchecked that he even caned an officer over a trivial matter and often beat sick privates when they were too weak to stand, many of whom were forced to join the New Corps to avoid dying from a lack of basic necessities.
“Neither pen, ink, or paper allowed (to prevent their treatment being made public) the consequence of which indeed, the prisoners themselves dread, knowing the malignant disposition of their keeper.”
“Neither pen, ink, nor paper was allowed (to prevent their treatment from becoming public), which the prisoners themselves feared, aware of their keeper's malicious nature.”
The Board of War reported on the 21 of January, 1778, that there were 900 privates and 300 officers in New York, prisoners, and that “the privates have been crowded all summer in sugar houses, and the officers boarded on Long Island, except about thirty, who have been confined in the Provost-Guard, and in most loathsome jails, and that since Oct. 1st, all those prisoners, both officers and privates, have been confined in prisons, prison ships, or the Provost.” Lists of prisoners in the Provost; those taken by the Falcon, Dec. 1777, and those belonging to Connecticut who were in the Quaker and Brick Meeting House hospitals in Jan. 1778, may be found in the Trumbull Papers, VII, 62.
The Board of War reported on January 21, 1778, that there were 900 privates and 300 officers imprisoned in New York, stating that “the privates have been crammed into sugar houses all summer, while the officers were staying on Long Island, except for about thirty who have been locked up in the Provost-Guard and in very unpleasant jails. Since October 1st, all of these prisoners, both officers and privates, have been held in prisons, prison ships, or the Provost.” Lists of prisoners in the Provost, those captured by the Falcon in December 1777, and those from Connecticut who were in the Quaker and Brick Meeting House hospitals in January 1778 can be found in the Trumbull Papers, VII, 62.
It seems that General Lee, while a prisoner in New York, in 1778, drew a prize of $500 in the New York Lottery, and immediately distributed it among the prisoners in that city. A New London, Connecticut, paper, dated Feb. 20, 1778, states that “it is said that the American prisoners, since we have had a Commissary in New York, are well served with good provisions, which are furnished at the expense of the States, and they are in general very healthy.”
It seems that General Lee, while a prisoner in New York in 1778, won a prize of $500 in the New York Lottery and immediately shared it with the other prisoners in the city. A newspaper from New London, Connecticut, dated Feb. 20, 1778, reports that “it is said that the American prisoners, since we have had a Commissary in New York, are well supplied with good provisions, which are provided at the expense of the States, and they are generally very healthy.”
We fear this was a rose-colored view of the matter, though there is no doubt that our commissaries did what they could to alleviate the miseries of captivity.
We worry this was an overly optimistic view of the situation, but there's no doubt that our supply officers did their best to ease the hardships of being imprisoned.
Onderdonk quotes from Gaine’s Mercury an advertisement for nurses in the hospital, but it is undated. “Nurses wanted immediately to attend the prison hospitals in this city. Good recommendations required, signed by two respectable inhabitants. Lewis Pintard.”
Onderdonk quotes from Gaine’s Mercury an ad for nurses in the hospital, but it’s undated. “Nurses wanted immediately to work in the prison hospitals in this city. Good recommendations required, signed by two reputable residents. Lewis Pintard.”
From the New York Gazette, May 6, 1778, we take the following: “Colonel Miles, Irvin, and fifty more exchanged.”
From the New York Gazette, May 6, 1778, we take the following: “Colonel Miles, Irvin, and fifty others have been exchanged.”
“Conn. Gazette. July 10, ‘78. About three weeks ago Robert Shefield, of Stonington, made his escape from New York after confinement in a prison ship. After he was taken he, with his crew of ten, were thrust into the fore-peak, and put in irons. On their arrival at New York they were carried on board a prison ship, and to the hatchways, on opening which, tell not of Pandora’s box, for that must be an alabaster box in comparison to the opening of these hatches. True there were gratings (to let in air) but they kept their boats upon them. The steam of the hold was enough to scald the skin, and take away the breath, the stench enough to poison the air all around.
“Conn. Gazette. July 10, ‘78. About three weeks ago, Robert Shefield from Stonington managed to escape from New York after being held on a prison ship. After his capture, he and his crew of ten were shoved into the forepeak and put in chains. When they arrived in New York, they were taken on board a prison ship and led to the hatchways. Opening those hatches was worse than opening Pandora’s box, because that would be a beautiful box compared to these hatches. Sure, there were grates to let in air, but they kept their boats on top of them. The steam in the hold was hot enough to scald skin and take away breath, and the stench was strong enough to poison the air all around.
“On his descending these dreary mansions of woe, and beholding the numerous spectacles of wretchedness and despair, his soul fainted within him. A little epitome of hell,—about 300 men confined between decks, half Frenchmen. He was informed there were three more of these vehicles of contagion, which contained a like number of miserable Frenchmen also, who were treated worse, if possible, than Americans.
“While going down into these bleak houses of misery and seeing the many scenes of suffering and despair, he felt his spirit weaken. A small slice of hell—about 300 men cramped between decks, mostly French. He was told there were three more of these ships of disease, holding a similar number of unfortunate Frenchmen who were treated even worse, if that's possible, than the Americans.”
“The heat was so intense that (the hot sun shining all day on deck) they were all naked, which also served the well to get rid of vermin, but the sick were eaten up alive. Their sickly countenances, and ghastly looks were truly horrible; some swearing and blaspheming; others crying, praying, and wringing their hands; and stalking about like ghosts; others delirious, raving and storming,—all panting for breath; some dead, and corrupting. The air was so foul that at times a lamp could not be kept burning, by reason of which the bodies were not missed until they had been dead ten days.
“The heat was so intense that the hot sun shone on deck all day, and they were all naked, which also helped get rid of parasites, but the sick were consumed alive. Their sickly faces and ghastly appearances were truly horrifying; some were swearing and cursing; others were crying, praying, and wringing their hands, wandering around like ghosts; some were delirious, raving, and shouting—all gasping for air; some were dead and decomposing. The air was so foul that at times a lamp couldn’t stay lit, which meant that the bodies weren't noticed until they had been dead for ten days.”
“One person alone was admitted on deck at a time, after sunset, which occasioned much filth to run into the hold, and mingle with the bilge water, which was not pumped out while he was aboard, notwithstanding the decks were leaky, and the prisoners begged permission to let in water and pump it out again.
“One person was allowed on deck at a time after sunset, which caused a lot of filth to flow into the hold and mix with the bilge water that wasn’t pumped out while he was on board, even though the decks were leaky, and the prisoners pleaded to let in water and pump it out again.”
“While Mr. Sheffield was on board, which was six days, five or six died daily, and three of his people. He was sent for on shore as evidence in a Court of Admiralty for condemning his own vessel, and happily escaped.
“While Mr. Sheffield was on board, which was six days, five or six people died daily, including three of his crew. He was called ashore to testify in a Court of Admiralty regarding the condemnation of his own ship, and fortunately, he managed to escape.”
“He was informed in New York that the fresh meat sent in to our prisoners by our Commissary was taken by the men-of-war for their own use. This he can say: he did not see any aboard the ship he was in, but they were well supplied with soft bread from our Commissaries on shore. But the provision (be it what it will) is not the complaint. Fresh air and fresh water, God’s free gift, is all their cry.”
“He was told in New York that the fresh meat sent to our prisoners by our Commissary was taken by the warships for their own use. He can say this: he didn’t see any on the ship he was on, but they were well supplied with soft bread from our Commissaries on shore. But the type of provisions isn’t the complaint. Fresh air and fresh water, God’s free gift, is all they ask for.”
“New London, Conn. July 31. 78. Last week 500 or 600 prisoners were released from confinement at New York and sent out chiefly by way of New Jersey, being exchanged.”
“New London, Conn. July 31, 1878. Last week, 500 or 600 prisoners were released from jail in New York and mainly sent out through New Jersey as part of an exchange.”
“New London Conn. Sep. 26, 78. All American prisoners are nearly sent out of New York, but there are 615 French prisoners still there.”
“New London, Conn. Sep. 26, 1878. Almost all American prisoners have been sent out of New York, but there are still 615 French prisoners remaining there.”
“Oct 18, 78. The Ship, Good Hope, lies in the North River.”
“Oct 18, 78. The ship Good Hope is anchored in the North River.”
“New London Dec. 18, 78. A Flag with 70 men from the horrible prison ships of New York arrived: 30 very sickly, 2 died since they arrived.”
“New London Dec. 18, 78. A group of 70 men from the awful prison ships of New York arrived: 30 were very sick, and 2 died since they got here.”
“N. London. Dec. 25, 78. A cartel arived here from New York with 172 American prisoners. They were landed here and in Groton, the greater part are sickly and in most deplorable condition, owing chiefly to the ill usage in the prison ships, where numbers had their feet and legs frozen”
“N. London. Dec. 25, 78. A ship arrived here from New York with 172 American prisoners. They were brought ashore here and in Groton, and most of them are sick and in very poor condition, mainly due to the mistreatment they suffered on the prison ships, where many had their feet and legs frozen.”
CHAPTER XV. — THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE—TRINTY CHURCHYARD
We will now take our readers with us to the Sugar House on Liberty Street, long called the Old Sugar House, and the only one of the three Sugar Houses which appear to have been used as a place of confinement for American prisoners of war after the year 1777.
We will now take our readers to the Sugar House on Liberty Street, often referred to as the Old Sugar House, and the only one of the three Sugar Houses that seems to have been used as a place for holding American prisoners of war after 1777.
We have already mentioned this dreary abode of wretchedness, but it deserves a more elaborate description.
We’ve already talked about this gloomy place filled with misery, but it deserves a more detailed description.
From Valentine’s Manual of the Common Council of New York for 1844 we will copy the following brief sketch of the British Prisons in New York during the Revolution.
From Valentine’s Manual of the Common Council of New York for 1844, we will copy the following brief overview of the British Prisons in New York during the Revolution.
“The British took possession of New York Sep. 15, ‘76, and the capture of Ft. Washington, Nov. 16, threw 2700 prisoners into their power. To these must be added 1000 taken at the battle of Brooklyn, and such private citizens as were arrested for their political principles, in New York City and on Long Island, and we may safely conclude that Sir William Howe had at least 5000 prisoners to provide for.
“The British took control of New York on September 15, 1776, and the capture of Fort Washington on November 16 resulted in 2,700 prisoners. We should also include 1,000 taken at the Battle of Brooklyn, along with private citizens who were arrested for their political beliefs in New York City and on Long Island. Therefore, we can conclude that Sir William Howe had at least 5,000 prisoners to manage.”
“The sudden influx of so many prisoners; the recent capture of the city, and the unlooked-for conflagration of a fourth part of it, threw his affairs into such confusion that, from these circumstances alone, the prisoners must have suffered much, from want of food and other bodily comforts, but there was superadded the studied cruelty of Captain Cunningham, the Provost Marshal, and his deputies, and the criminal negligence of Sir Wm. Howe.
“The sudden arrival of so many prisoners, the recent takeover of the city, and the unexpected fire that consumed a quarter of it, created such chaos that, due to these factors alone, the prisoners must have endured significant hardship from lack of food and other basic needs. On top of that, there was the deliberate cruelty of Captain Cunningham, the Provost Marshal, and his deputies, along with the negligent actions of Sir Wm. Howe.”
“To contain such a vast number of prisoners the ordinary places of confinement were insufficient. Accordingly the Brick Church, the Middle Church, the North Church, and the French Church were appropriated to their use. Beside these, Columbia College, the Sugar House, the New Gaol, the new Bridewell, and the old City Hall were filled to their utmost capacity.
“To hold so many prisoners, the usual confinement places weren’t enough. So, the Brick Church, the Middle Church, the North Church, and the French Church were taken for this purpose. In addition, Columbia College, the Sugar House, the New Gaol, the new Bridewell, and the old City Hall were filled to capacity.”
“Till within a few years there stood on Liberty Street, south of the Middle Dutch Church, a dark, stone building, with small, deep porthole looking windows, rising tier above tier; exhibiting a dungeon-like aspect. It was five stories high, and each story was divided into two dreary apartments.
“Until a few years ago, there stood on Liberty Street, south of the Middle Dutch Church, a dark stone building with small, deep porthole-style windows, rising tier upon tier; it had a dungeon-like appearance. It was five stories tall, and each story was divided into two gloomy apartments.
“On the stones and bricks in the wall were to be seen names and dates, as if done with a prisoner’s penknife, or nail. There was a strong, gaol-like door opening on Liberty St., and another on the southeast, descending into a dismal cellar, also used as a prison. There was a walk nearly broad enough for a cart to travel around it, where night and day, two British or Hessian guards walked their weary rounds. The yard was surrounded by a close board fence, nine feet high. ‘In the suffocating heat of summer,’ says Wm. Dunlap, ‘I saw every narrow aperture of these stone walls filled with human heads, face above face, seeking a portion of the external air.’
“On the stones and bricks in the wall were names and dates, as if engraved with a prisoner's penknife or nail. There was a heavy, prison-like door opening onto Liberty St., and another on the southeast, leading down into a grim cellar that was also used as a prison. There was a path almost wide enough for a cart, where day and night, two British or Hessian guards trudged their weary rounds. The yard was enclosed by a tall wooden fence, nine feet high. ‘In the suffocating heat of summer,’ says Wm. Dunlap, ‘I saw every narrow opening in these stone walls filled with human heads, face above face, reaching for a bit of fresh air.’”
“While the gaol fever was raging in the summer of 1777, the prisoners were let out in companies of twenty, for half an hour at a time, to breathe fresh air, and inside they were so crowded, that they divided their numbers into squads of six each. No. 1 stood for ten minutes as close to the windows as they could, and then No. 2 took their places, and so on.
“While the jail fever was spreading in the summer of 1777, the prisoners were allowed out in groups of twenty for half an hour at a time to get some fresh air. Inside, they were so packed that they split into squads of six. Number 1 stood for ten minutes as close to the windows as possible, and then Number 2 took their place, and so on.”
“Seats there were none, and their beds were but straw, intermixed with vermin.
“Seats were nonexistent, and their beds were just straw mixed with bugs.”
“For many days the dead-cart visited the prison every morning, into which eight or ten corpses were flung or piled up, like sticks of wood, and dumped into ditches in the outskirts of the city.”
“For many days, the dead-cart came to the prison every morning, where eight or ten corpses were tossed or stacked, like firewood, and dumped into ditches on the edge of the city.”
Silas Talbot says: “A New York gentleman keeps a window shutter that was used as a checkerboard in the Sugar House. The prisoners daily unhinged it, and played on it.”
Silas Talbot says: “A New York gentleman has a window shutter that was used as a checkerboard in the Sugar House. The prisoners would take it off its hinges every day and play on it.”
Many years ago a small pamphlet was printed in New York to prove that some of the American prisoners who died in the Old Sugar House were buried in Trinity church-yard. Andrew S. Norwood, who was a boy during the Revolution, deposed that he used to carry food to John Van Dyke, in this prison. The other prisoners would try to wrest away the food, as they were driven mad by hunger. They were frequently fed with bread made from old, worm-eaten ship biscuits, reground into meal and offensive to the smell. Many of the prisoners died, and some were put into oblong boxes, sometimes two in a box, and buried in Trinity church-yard, and the boy, himself, witnessed some of the interments. A part of Trinity church-yard was used as a common burying-ground,—as was also the yard of St. George’s Church, and what was called the Swamp Burying-Ground.
Many years ago, a small pamphlet was published in New York to show that some of the American prisoners who died in the Old Sugar House were buried in Trinity churchyard. Andrew S. Norwood, who was a boy during the Revolution, testified that he used to bring food to John Van Dyke in that prison. The other prisoners would try to snatch the food away, driven mad by hunger. They were often fed bread made from old, wormy ship biscuits, ground into meal and smelling horrible. Many of the prisoners died, and some were placed into long boxes, sometimes two in a box, and buried in Trinity churchyard. The boy himself witnessed some of the burials. Part of Trinity churchyard was used as a common burial ground—as was also the yard of St. George’s Church, and what was called the Swamp Burying-Ground.
This boy also deposed that his uncle Clifford was murdered during the Revolution, it was supposed by foreign soldiers, and he was buried in Trinity church-yard.
This boy also stated that his uncle Clifford was killed during the Revolution, allegedly by foreign soldiers, and he was buried in Trinity churchyard.
Jacob Freeman, also a boy during the Revolution, deposed that his father and several other inhabitants of Woodbridge were arrested and sent to New York. His grandfather was sixty years old, and when he was arrested, his son, who was concealed and could have escaped, came out of his hiding-place and surrendered himself for the purpose of accompanying his father to prison. The son was a Lieutenant. They were confined in the Sugar House several months. Every day some of the prisoners died and were buried in Old Trinity church-yard. Ensign Jacob Barnitz was wounded in both legs at the battle of Fort Washington. He was conveyed to New York and there thrown into the Sugar House, and suffered to lie on the damp ground. A kind friend had him conveyed to more comfortable quarters. Barnitz came from York, or Lancaster, Pa.
Jacob Freeman, who was also a boy during the Revolution, reported that his father and several other people from Woodbridge were arrested and sent to New York. His grandfather was sixty years old, and when he was taken, his son, who was hiding and could have escaped, came out of his hiding place and gave himself up to go with his father to prison. The son was a Lieutenant. They were held in the Sugar House for several months. Every day, some of the prisoners died and were buried in the Old Trinity churchyard. Ensign Jacob Barnitz was wounded in both legs at the battle of Fort Washington. He was taken to New York and put in the Sugar House, where he had to lie on the damp ground. A kind friend arranged for him to be moved to more comfortable quarters. Barnitz came from York or Lancaster, PA.
Little John Pennell was a cabin boy, bound to Captain White of the sloop of war, Nancy, in 1776. He testified that the prisoners of the Sugar House, which was very damp, were buried on the hill called “The Holy Ground.” “I saw where they were buried. The graves were long and six feet wide. Five or six were buried in one grave.” It was Trinity Church ground.
Little John Pennell was a cabin boy, working for Captain White of the warship Nancy in 1776. He said that the prisoners from the Sugar House, which was very damp, were buried on the hill known as "The Holy Ground." "I saw where they were buried. The graves were long and six feet wide. Five or six were buried in one grave." It was Trinity Church ground.
We will now give an account of Levi Hanford, who was imprisoned in the Sugar House in 1777. Levi Hanford was a son of Levi Hanford, and was born in Connecticut, in the town of Norwalk, on the 19th of Feb., 1759. In 1775 he enlisted in a militia company. In 1776 he was in service in New York. In March 1777, being then a member of a company commanded by Captain Seth Seymour, he was captured with twelve others under Lieut. J. B. Eels, at the “Old Well” in South Norwalk, Conn. While a prisoner in the Old Sugar House he sent the following letter to his father. A friend wrote the first part for him, and he appears to have finished it in his own handwriting.
We will now tell the story of Levi Hanford, who was imprisoned in the Sugar House in 1777. Levi Hanford was the son of Levi Hanford and was born in Connecticut, in the town of Norwalk, on February 19, 1759. In 1775, he enlisted in a militia company. In 1776, he served in New York. In March 1777, while a member of a company led by Captain Seth Seymour, he was captured along with twelve others under Lieutenant J. B. Eels at the “Old Well” in South Norwalk, Conn. While he was a prisoner in the Old Sugar House, he sent the following letter to his father. A friend wrote the first part for him, and he seems to have finished it in his own handwriting.
New York June 7. 1777
New York, June 7, 1777
Loving Father:—
Loving Dad:—
I take the opportunity to let you know I am alive, and in reasonable health, since I had the small-pox.—thanks be to the Lord for it. * * * I received the things you sent me. * * * I wish you would go and see if you can’t get us exchanged—if you please. Matthias Comstock is dead. Sam. Hasted, Ebenezer Hoyt, Jonathan Kellog has gone to the hospital to be inoculated today. We want money very much. I have been sick but hope I am better. There is a doctor here that has helpt me. * * * I would not go to the Hospital, for all manner of disease prevail there. * * * If you can possibly help us send to the Governor and try to help us. * * * Remember my kind love to all my friends. I am
I want to take a moment to let you know that I'm alive and in decent health since I had smallpox—thanks to the Lord for that. I received the things you sent me. I really wish you could check if there’s any chance of getting us exchanged—if you don’t mind. Matthias Comstock has passed away. Sam Hasted, Ebenezer Hoyt, and Jonathan Kellog went to the hospital to get inoculated today. We’re in dire need of money. I've been sick, but I hope I'm getting better. There's a doctor here who has helped me. I wouldn't go to the hospital because all kinds of diseases are spreading there. If you can help us at all, please reach out to the Governor and see what you can do. Please send my warm regards to all my friends. I am
Your Obedient son, Levi Hanford.
Your devoted son, Levi Hanford.
Poor Levi Hanford was sent to the prison ship, Good Intent, and was not exchanged until the 8th of May, 1778.
Poor Levi Hanford was sent to the prison ship, Good Intent, and wasn’t released until May 8th, 1778.
In the “Journal of American History,” the third number of the second volume, on page 527, are the recollections of Thomas Stone, a soldier of the Revolution, who was born in Guilford, Conn., in 1755. In April, 1777, he enlisted under Capt. James Watson in Colonel Samuel Webb’s Regiment, Connecticut line. He spent the following campaign near the Hudson. The 9th of December following Stone and his comrades under Gen. Parsons, embarked on board some small vessel at Norwalk, Conn, with a view to take a small fort on Long Island. “We left the shore,” he says, “about six o’clock, P. M. The night was very dark, the sloop which I was aboard of parted from the other vessels, and at daybreak found ourselves alongside a British frigate. Our sloop grounded, we struck our colors-fatal hour! We were conducted to New York, introduced to the Jersey Prison Ship. We were all destitute of any clothing except what we had on; we now began to taste the vials of Monarchial tender mercy.
In the “Journal of American History,” volume 2, issue 3, on page 527, you’ll find the memories of Thomas Stone, a soldier from the Revolution who was born in Guilford, Connecticut, in 1755. In April 1777, he enlisted under Capt. James Watson in Colonel Samuel Webb’s Regiment, Connecticut line. He spent the next campaign near the Hudson River. On December 9 of that year, Stone and his comrades under Gen. Parsons boarded a small vessel in Norwalk, Connecticut, aiming to capture a small fort on Long Island. “We left the shore,” he recalls, “around six o’clock in the evening. The night was very dark, and the sloop I was on separated from the other vessels. At dawn, we found ourselves next to a British frigate. Our sloop ran aground, and we struck our colors—what a disastrous hour! We were taken to New York and introduced to the Jersey Prison Ship. We had no clothes except what we were wearing; we began to experience the harsh realities of Monarchical ‘mercy.’”
“About the 25th of Jan. 1778, we were taken from the ships to the Sugar House, which during the inclement season was more intolerable than the Ships.
“About January 25, 1778, we were taken from the ships to the Sugar House, which during the harsh weather was even worse than the ships.”
“We left the floating Hell with joy, but alas, our joy was of short duration. Cold and famine were now our destiny. Not a pane of glass, nor even a board to a single window in the house, and no fire but once in three days to cook our small allowance of provision. There was a scene that truly tried body and soul. Old shoes were bought and eaten with as much relish as a pig or a turkey; a beef bone of four or five ounces, after it was picked clean, was sold by the British guard for as many coppers.
“We left the floating Hell feeling happy, but sadly, our happiness didn't last long. Cold and hunger were now our reality. There wasn’t a single pane of glass, not even a board covering any window in the house, and we had a fire only once every three days to cook our little food supply. It was a situation that really tested both our bodies and our spirits. Old shoes were bought and eaten with as much enjoyment as a pig or a turkey; a beef bone weighing four or five ounces, after it was picked clean, was sold by the British guard for just a few coins.”
“In the spring our misery increased; frozen feet began to mortify; by the first of April, death took from our numbers, and, I hope, from their misery, from seven to ten a day; and by the first of May out of sixty-nine taken with me only fifteen were alive, and eight out of that number unable to work.
“In the spring, our suffering grew worse; frozen feet started to rot; by the first of April, death claimed seven to ten people a day, and I hope it relieved their suffering. By the first of May, out of the sixty-nine who started with me, only fifteen were still alive, and eight of them were unable to work.”
“Death stared the living in the face: we were now attacked by a fever which threatened to clear our walls of its miserable inhabitants.
“Death stared the living in the face: we were now hit by a fever that threatened to wipe out the miserable inhabitants of our walls.”
“About the 20th of July I made my escape from the prison-yard. Just before the lamps were lighted. I got safely out of the city, passed all the guards, was often fired at, but still safe as to any injury done me; arrived at Harlem River eastward of King’s Bridge.
“On around July 20th, I managed to escape from the prison yard. This was just before the lights were turned on. I got out of the city safely, passed by all the guards, was shot at several times, but came away unharmed; I reached the Harlem River east of King’s Bridge.”
“Hope and fear were now in full exercise. The alarm was struck by the sentinels keeping firing at me. I arrived at the banks of Harlem,—five men met me with their bayonets at my heart; to resist was instant death, and to give up, little better.
“Hope and fear were now in full swing. The alarm was raised by the sentinels firing at me. I reached the banks of Harlem—five men confronted me with their bayonets at my chest; resisting meant instant death, and surrendering was hardly any better."
“I was conducted to the main guard, kept there until morning then started for New York with waiters with bayonets at my back, arrived at my old habitation about 1 o’clock, P. M.; was introduced to the Prison keeper who threatened me with instant death, gave me two heavy blows with his cane; I caught his arm and the guard interfered. Was driven to the provost, thrust into a dungeon, a stone floor, not a blanket, not a board, not a straw to rest on. Next day was visited by a Refugee Lieutenant, offered to enlist me, offered a bounty, I declined. Next day renewed the visit, made further offers, told me the General was determined I should starve to death where I was unless I would enter their service. I told him his General dare not do it. (I shall here omit the imprecations I gave him in charge.)
“I was taken to the main guard, kept there until morning, and then set off for New York with soldiers and their bayonets at my back. I arrived at my old place around 1 o’clock in the afternoon; I was introduced to the prison keeper who threatened me with instant death and gave me two heavy hits with his cane. I grabbed his arm and the guard intervened. I was taken to the provost and thrown into a dungeon with a stone floor—no blanket, no board, not even a straw to rest on. The next day, a Refugee Lieutenant visited me, offered to enlist me, and promised a bounty, but I turned him down. The following day, he came back, made more offers, and told me the General was intent on making me starve to death where I was unless I agreed to join their service. I told him that his General wouldn’t dare do it. (I’ll skip the curses I laid upon him.)”
“The third day I was visited by two British officers, offered me a sergeant’s post, threatened me with death as before, in case I refused. I replied, ‘Death if they dare!’
“The third day, I was visited by two British officers who offered me a sergeant’s position and threatened me with death again if I refused. I replied, ‘Death if they dare!’”
“In about ten minutes the door was opened, a guard took me to my old habitation the Sugar House, it being about the same time of day I left my cell that I entered it, being three days and nights without a morsel of food or a drop of water,—all this for the crime of getting out of prison. When in the dungeon reflecting upon my situation I thought if ever mortal could be justified in praying for the destruction of his enemies, I am the man.
“In about ten minutes, the door was opened, and a guard took me back to my old place, the Sugar House. It was around the same time of day that I left my cell as I was entering it, having gone three days and nights without a bite to eat or a sip of water—all this for the crime of leaving prison. While in the dungeon reflecting on my situation, I thought that if anyone could be justified in praying for the destruction of their enemies, it was me.”
“After my escape the guard was augmented, and about this time a new prison keeper was appointed, our situation became more tolerable.
“After I escaped, the guard was increased, and around this time a new prison warden was appointed, making our situation more bearable.”
“The 16th of July was exchanged. Language would fail me to describe the joy of that hour; but it was transitory. On the morning of the 16th, some friends, or what is still more odious, some Refugees, cast into the Prison yard a quantity of warm bread, and it was devoured with greediness. The prison gate was opened, we marched out about the number of 250. Those belonging to the North and Eastern States were conducted to the North River and driven on board the flag ship, and landed at Elizabethtown, New Jersey. Those who ate of the bread soon sickened; there was death in the bread they had eaten. Some began to complain in about half an hour after eating the bread, one was taken sick after another in quick succession and the cry was, ‘Poison, poison!’ I was taken sick about an hour after eating. When we landed, some could walk, and some could not. I walked to town about two miles, being led most of the way by two men. About one half of our number did not eat of the bread, as a report had been brought into the prison that the prisoners taken at Fort Washington had been poisoned in the same way.
“July 16th came and changed everything. Words can't capture the joy of that moment, but it didn't last long. On the morning of the 16th, some friends—or even worse, some refugees—threw a bunch of warm bread into the prison yard, and it was gobbled up eagerly. The prison gate opened, and we marched out with around 250 people. Those from the Northern and Eastern States were taken to the North River and put on board the flagship, landing at Elizabethtown, New Jersey. Those who ate the bread soon fell ill; there was something wrong with the bread they had eaten. Complaints started about half an hour after eating, and one by one, people fell sick. The cry went up, ‘Poison, poison!’ I started feeling unwell about an hour after eating. When we landed, some were able to walk, but others couldn’t. I walked to town, about two miles, mostly guided by two men. About half of us didn't eat the bread because a report had circulated in the prison that the prisoners taken at Fort Washington had been poisoned the same way.
“The sick were conveyed in wagons to White Plains, where I expected to meet my regiment, but they had been on the march to Rhode Island I believe, about a week. I was now in a real dilemma; I had not the vestige of a shirt to my body, was moneyless and friendless. What to do I knew not. Unable to walk, a gentleman, I think his name was Allen, offered to carry me to New Haven, which he did. The next day I was conveyed to Guilford, the place of my birth, but no near relative to help me. Here I learned that my father had died in the service the Spring before. I was taken in by a hospitable uncle, but in moderate circumstances. Dr. Readfield attended me for about four months I was salivated twice, but it had no good effect. They sent me 30 miles to Dr Little of East Haddam, who under kind Providence restored me to such state of health that I joined my Regiment in the Spring following.
“The sick were transported in wagons to White Plains, where I expected to meet my regiment, but they had been marching to Rhode Island for about a week, I believe. I was stuck in a real dilemma; I had no shirt, no money, and no friends. I had no idea what to do. Unable to walk, a gentleman—I'm pretty sure his name was Allen—offered to carry me to New Haven, and he did. The next day, I was taken to Guilford, my hometown, but there were no close relatives to help me. Here, I learned that my father had died in service the previous Spring. I was taken in by a kind uncle, though he was not well-off. Dr. Readfield treated me for about four months; I was treated with mercury twice, but it didn’t help. They sent me 30 miles to Dr. Little in East Haddam, who, under kind Providence, restored me to such a state of health that I rejoined my regiment the following Spring.”
“In the year 1780, I think in the month of June, General Green met the enemy at Springfield, New Jersey, and in the engagement I had my left elbow dislocated in the afternoon. The British fired the village and retreated. We pursued until dark. The next morning my arm was so swollen that it could not, or at least was not put right, and it has been ever since a weak, feeble joint, which has disabled me from most kinds of manual labor.”
“In 1780, I believe it was in June, General Greene faced the enemy at Springfield, New Jersey, and during the fight, I dislocated my left elbow in the afternoon. The British set fire to the village and then retreated. We chased them until dark. The next morning, my arm was so swollen that it couldn’t be fixed, or at least wasn’t put back in place, and since then it has been a weak, unreliable joint, making it hard for me to do most kinds of manual labor.”
To this account the grandson of Thomas Stone, the Rev. Hiram Stone, adds some notes, in one of which he says, speaking of the Sugar House: “I have repeatedly heard my grandfather relate that there were no windows left in the building, and that during the winter season the snow would be driven entirely across the great rooms in the different stories, and in the morning lie in drifts upon our poor, hungry, unprotected prisoners. Of a morning several frozen corpses would be dragged out, thrown into wagons like logs, then driven away and pitched into a large hole or trench, and covered up like dead brutes.”
To this account, the grandson of Thomas Stone, Rev. Hiram Stone, adds some notes. In one of them, he mentions the Sugar House: “I’ve heard my grandfather talk many times about how there were no windows left in the building, and that during the winter, snow would blow completely across the large rooms on different floors, and in the morning, it would settle in drifts on our poor, hungry, unprotected prisoners. In the mornings, several frozen bodies would be pulled out, tossed into wagons like logs, then taken away and dumped into a big hole or trench, and covered up like dead animals.”
Speaking of the custom of sending the exchanged prisoners as far as possible from their own homes, he says: “I well remember hearing my grandfather explain this strange conduct of the enemy in the following way. Alter the poison was thus perfidiously administered, the prisoners belonging at the North were sent across to the Jersey side, while those of the South were sent in an opposite direction, the intention of the enemy evidently being to send the exchanged prisoners as far from home as possible, that most of them might die of the effect of the poison before reaching their friends. Grandfather used to speak of the treatment of our prisoners as most cruel and murderous, though charging it more to the Tories or Refugees than to the British.
Speaking about the practice of sending exchanged prisoners as far away from their homes as possible, he says: “I remember my grandfather explaining this strange behavior of the enemy like this. After the poison was deceitfully given, the Northern prisoners were sent to the Jersey side, while those from the South were sent in the opposite direction. The enemy’s clear intention was to send the exchanged prisoners as far from home as they could, so that most of them would die from the poison before reaching their friends. My grandfather often described the treatment of our prisoners as extremely cruel and murderous, although he blamed it more on the Tories or Refugees than on the British.”
“The effects of the poison taken into his system were never eradicated in the life-time of my grandfather, a ‘breaking out,’ or rash, appearing every spring, greatly to his annoyance and discomfort.”
“The effects of the poison he took into his system were never completely gone during my grandfather’s lifetime, a ‘breakout’ or rash showing up every spring, which was a major source of annoyance and discomfort for him.”
CHAPTER XVI. — THE CASE OF JOHN BLATCHFORD
In our attempt to describe the sufferings of American prisoners taken during the Revolution, we have, for the most part, confined ourselves to New York, only because we have been unable to make extensive research into the records of the British prisons in other places. But what little we have been able to gather on the subject of the prisoners sent out of America we will also lay before our readers.
In trying to describe the hardships faced by American prisoners during the Revolution, we've mainly focused on New York, simply because we haven't been able to conduct thorough research on the records of British prisons in other locations. However, the limited information we've managed to collect about the prisoners sent out of America will also be shared with our readers.
We have already stated the fact that some of our prisoners were sent to India and some to Africa. They seem to have been sold into slavery, and purchased by the East India Company, and the African Company as well.
We have already mentioned that some of our prisoners were sent to India and others to Africa. They appear to have been sold into slavery and were bought by the East India Company and the African Company as well.
It is doubtful if any of the poor prisoners sent to the unwholesome climate of Africa ever returned to tell the story of British cruelties inflicted upon them there,—where hard work in the burning sun,—scanty fare,—and jungle fever soon ended their miseries. But one American prisoner escaped from the Island of Sumatra, where he had been employed in the pepperfields belonging to the East India Company. His story is eventful, and we will give the reader an abridgement of it, as it was told by himself, in his narrative, first published in a New England newspaper.
It’s uncertain if any of the unfortunate prisoners sent to the harsh climate of Africa ever came back to share their experiences of the British cruelty they faced there—where grueling labor in the blazing sun, meager food, and jungle fever quickly ended their suffering. However, one American prisoner managed to escape from the Island of Sumatra, where he had been working in the pepper fields owned by the East India Company. His story is significant, and we will provide the reader with a summary of it, as he recounted it in his narrative, which was first published in a New England newspaper.
John Blatchford was born at Cape Ann, Mass., in the year 1762. In June, 1777, he went as a cabin boy on board the Hancock, a continental ship commanded by Capt. John Manly. On the 8th of July the Hancock was captured by the Rainbow, under Sir George Collier, and her crew was taken to Halifax.
John Blatchford was born in Cape Ann, Massachusetts, in 1762. In June 1777, he joined the crew as a cabin boy on the Hancock, a Continental Navy ship captained by John Manly. On July 8, the Hancock was captured by the Rainbow, commanded by Sir George Collier, and her crew was taken to Halifax.
John Blatchford was, at this time, in his sixteenth year. He was of medium height, with broad shoulders, full chest, and well proportioned figure. His complexion was sallow, his eyes dark, and his hair black and curly. He united great strength with remarkable endurance, else he could not have survived the rough treatment he experienced at the hands of fate. It is said that as a man he was temperate, grave, and dignified, and although his strength was so great, and his courage most undaunted, yet he was peaceable and slow to anger. His narrative appears to have been dictated by himself to some better educated person. It was first published in New London, Conn., in the year 1788. In the year 1797 an abstract of it appeared in Philip Freneau’s Time Piece, a paper published in New York. In July, 1860, the entire production was published in the Cape Ann Gazette. We will now continue the narrative in Blatchford’s own words:
John Blatchford was, at this time, sixteen years old. He was of average height, with broad shoulders, a full chest, and a well-proportioned figure. His complexion was pale, his eyes were dark, and his hair was black and curly. He combined great strength with remarkable endurance; otherwise, he wouldn’t have survived the harsh treatment he faced from fate. It’s said that as a man, he was moderate, serious, and dignified, and even though he was very strong and his courage was unwavering, he was peaceful and slow to anger. His story seems to have been dictated by him to someone who was better educated. It was first published in New London, Conn., in 1788. In 1797, a summary of it appeared in Philip Freneau’s Time Piece, a newspaper published in New York. In July 1860, the complete work was published in the Cape Ann Gazette. We will now continue the narrative in Blatchford’s own words:
“On our arrival at Halifax we were taken on shore and confined in a prison which had formerly been a sugar-house.
“Upon arriving in Halifax, we were taken ashore and locked up in a prison that used to be a sugar house.”
“The large number of prisoners confined in this house, near 300, together with a scanty allowance of provisions, occasioned it to be very sickly. * * * George Barnard, who had been a midshipman on the Hancock, and who was confined in the same room as myself, concerted a plan to release us, which was to be effected by digging a small passage under ground, to extend to a garden that was behind the prison, and without the prison wall, where we might make a breach in the night with safety, and probably all obtain our liberty. This plan greatly elated our spirits, and we were anxious to proceed immediately in executing it.
“The large number of prisoners in this house, nearly 300, along with a very limited supply of food, made it quite unhealthy. * * * George Barnard, who had been a midshipman on the Hancock and was locked up in the same room as me, came up with a plan to free us. The plan was to dig a small tunnel underground that would reach a garden behind the prison, outside the prison wall, where we could safely break out at night and hopefully all gain our freedom. This idea really lifted our spirits, and we were eager to start working on it right away.”
“Our cabins were built one above another, from the floor to the height of a man’s head; and mine was pitched upon to be taken up; and six of us agreed to do the work, whose names were George Barnard, William Atkins, late midshipmen in the Hancock; Lemuel Towle of Cape Ann, Isaiah Churchill of Plymouth; Asa Cole of Weathersfield, and myself.
“Our cabins were stacked one on top of the other, reaching up to a man's height; and mine was chosen to be taken down; and six of us decided to do the work, their names being George Barnard, William Atkins, former midshipmen in the Hancock; Lemuel Towle from Cape Ann, Isaiah Churchill from Plymouth; Asa Cole from Weathersfield, and myself.”
“We took up the cabin and cut a hole in the plank underneath. The sugar house stood on a foundation of stone which raised the floor four feet above the ground, and gave us sufficient room to work, and to convey away the dirt that we dug up.
“We took the cabin and cut a hole in the plank below it. The sugar house was built on a stone foundation that raised the floor four feet off the ground, giving us enough space to work and to remove the dirt we dug up.”
“The instruments that we had to work with were one scraper, one long spike, and some sharp sticks; with these we proceeded in our difficult undertaking. As the hole was too small to admit of more than one person to work at a time we dug by turns during ten or twelve days, and carried the dirt in our bosoms to another part of the cellar. By this time we supposed we had dug far enough, and word was given out among the prisoners to prepare themselves for flight.
“The tools we had to work with were one scraper, one long spike, and some sharp sticks; with these, we carried on with our tough task. Since the hole was too small for more than one person to work at a time, we took turns digging for ten or twelve days, and we carried the dirt in our clothes to another part of the cellar. By this point, we thought we had dug deep enough, and word went out among the prisoners to get ready for escape.”
“But while we were in the midst of our gayety, congratulating ourselves upon our prospects, we were basely betrayed by one of our own countrymen, whose name was Knowles. He had been a midshipman on board the Boston frigate, and was put on board the Fox when she was taken by the Hancock and Boston. What could have induced him to commit so vile an action cannot be conceived, as no advantage could accrue to him from our detection, and death was the certain consequence to many of his miserable countrymen. That it was so is all that I can say. A few hours before we were to have attempted our escape Knowles informed the Sergeant of the guard of our design, and by his treachery cost his country the lives of more than one hundred valuable citizens,—fathers, and husbands, whose return would have rejoiced the hearts of now weeping, fatherless children, and called forth tears of joy from wives, now helpless and disconsolate widows.
“But while we were in the middle of our celebration, feeling good about our future, we were shockingly betrayed by one of our own countrymen, named Knowles. He had been a midshipman on the Boston frigate and was placed on the Fox when she was captured by the Hancock and Boston. It’s hard to understand what could have motivated him to do such a terrible thing, as he wouldn’t gain anything from our discovery, and many of his unfortunate countrymen were certain to die as a result. That it happened is all I can say. A few hours before we were supposed to make our escape, Knowles told the Sergeant of the guard about our plan, and through his betrayal, he caused the deaths of over one hundred valuable citizens—fathers and husbands—whose return would have filled the hearts of now grieving, fatherless children with joy, and brought tears of happiness to wives who are now helpless and heartbroken widows."
“When we were discovered the whole guard were ordered into the room and being informed by Knowles who it was that performed the work we were all six confined in irons; the hole was filled up and a sentinel constantly placed in the room, to prevent any further attempt.
“When we were found out, the entire guard was ordered into the room, and Knowles told them who was responsible for the deed. All six of us were locked up in chains; the hole was sealed, and a guard was always stationed in the room to stop any further attempts.”
“We were all placed in close confinement, until two of my fellow-sufferers, Barnard and Cole, died; one of which was put into the ground with his irons on his hands.
“We were all kept in tight confinement until two of my fellow sufferers, Barnard and Cole, died; one of them was buried with his shackles still on his hands.
“I was afterwards permitted to walk the yard. But as my irons were too small, and caused my hands to swell, and made them very sore, I asked the Sergeant to take them off and give me larger ones. He being a person of humanity, and compassionating my sufferings, changed my irons for others that were larger, and more easy to my hands.
“I was later allowed to walk around the yard. But since my shackles were too tight, causing my hands to swell and become quite painful, I asked the Sergeant to remove them and give me larger ones. Being a kind person and feeling for my suffering, he replaced my shackles with larger ones that were easier on my hands.”
“Knowles, who was also permitted to walk the yard, for his perfidy, would take every opportunity to insult and mortify me, by asking me whether I wanted to run away again, and when I was going home, etc?
“Knowles, who was also allowed to walk around the yard for his betrayal, would take every chance to insult and humiliate me by asking if I wanted to run away again and when I was going home, etc?”
“His daily affronts, together with his conduct in betraying, his countrymen, so exasperated me that I wished for nothing more than an opportunity to convince him that I did not love him.
"His daily insults, along with his behavior in betraying our fellow countrymen, frustrated me so much that all I wanted was a chance to show him that I didn’t love him."
“One day as he was tantalizing over me as usual, I suddenly drew my one hand out of my irons, flew at him and struck him in the face, knocked out two or three of his teeth, and bruised his mouth very much. He cried out that the prisoner had got loose, but before any assistance came, I had put my hand again into the hand-cuff, and was walking about the yard as usual. When the guard came they demanded of me in what manner I struck him. I replied with both my hands.
“One day, while he was teasing me like usual, I suddenly managed to pull one hand out of my cuffs, lunged at him, and hit him in the face, knocking out two or three of his teeth and really bruising his mouth. He yelled that the prisoner had gotten loose, but before anyone could help him, I had slipped my hand back into the handcuff and was wandering around the yard like normal. When the guard arrived, they asked me how I struck him. I replied with both my hands.”
“They then tried to pull my hands out, but could not, and concluded it must be as I said. Some laughed and some were angry, but in the end I was ordered again into prison.
“They then tried to pull my hands out, but they couldn't, and decided it must be as I said. Some laughed and some got angry, but in the end, I was ordered back into prison.”
“The next day I was sent on board the Greyhound, frigate, Capt. Dickson, bound on a cruise in Boston Bay.
“The next day I was sent on board the Greyhound, a frigate, Captain Dickson, heading out on a cruise in Boston Bay.”
“After being out a few days we met with a severe gale of wind, in which we sprung our main-mast, and received considerable other damage. We were then obliged to bear away for the West Indies, and on our passage fell in with and took a brig from Norwich, laden with stock.
“After being out a few days, we encountered a strong storm, during which we damaged our main mast and suffered significant additional damage. We then had to head for the West Indies, and on our way, we came across and captured a brig from Norwich, loaded with livestock.”
“The Captain and hands were put on board a Danish vessel the same day. We carried the brig into Antigua, where we immediately repaired, and were ordered in company of the Vulture, sloop of war, to convoy a sloop of merchantmen into New York.
“The Captain and crew were placed on a Danish ship the same day. We brought the brig into Antigua, where we quickly made repairs, and were instructed, along with the Vulture, a sloop of war, to escort a sloop carrying merchant goods to New York.
“We left the fleet off Sandy Hook, and sailed for Philadelphia, where we lay until we were made a packet, and ordered for Halifax with dispatches. We had a quick passage, and arrived safe.
“We left the fleet off Sandy Hook and sailed for Philadelphia, where we stayed until we were designated as a packet and ordered to Halifax with dispatches. We had a quick trip and arrived safely."
“While we lay in the road Admiral Byron arrived, in the Princess Royal from England, who, being short of men, and we having a surplusage for a packet, many of our men were ordered on board the Princess Royal, and among them most of our boat’s crew.
“While we were lying on the road, Admiral Byron arrived on the Princess Royal from England. Since he was short on crew and we had extra for a packet, many of our men were ordered to board the Princess Royal, including most of our boat's crew.”
“Soon after, some of the officers going on shore, I was ordered into the boat. We landed at the Governor’s slip—it being then near night. This was the first time since I had been on board the Greyhound that I had had an opportunity to escape from her, as they were before this particularly careful of me; therefore I was determined to get away if possible, and to effect it I waded round a wharf and went up a byway, fearing I should meet the officers. I soon got into the street, and made the best of my way towards Irishtown (the southern suburbs of Halifax) where I expected to be safe, but unfortunately while running I was met and stopped by an emissary, who demanded of me my business, and where I was going? I tried to deceive him, that he might let me pass, but it was in vain, he ordered me to follow him.
“Soon after, when some of the officers went ashore, I was ordered into the boat. We landed at the Governor’s slip, since it was getting close to night. This was the first time since I had been on board the Greyhound that I had an opportunity to escape, as they had previously been particularly cautious with me; so I was determined to get away if I could. To do this, I waded around a wharf and took a side street, worried I might run into the officers. I quickly reached the street and made my way towards Irishtown (the southern suburbs of Halifax) where I thought I'd be safe. However, while I was running, I was confronted and stopped by an agent, who asked me what I was doing and where I was headed. I tried to trick him into letting me go, but it was pointless; he ordered me to follow him.”
“I offered him what money I had, about seven shillings, sixpence, to let me go, this too was in vain. I then told him I was an American, making my escape, from a long confinement, and was determined to pass, and took up a stone. He immediately drew his bayonet, and ordered me to go back with him. I refused and told him to keep his distance. He then run upon me and pushed his bayonet into my side. It come out near my navel; but the wound was not very deep; he then made a second pass at me, and stabbed me through my arm; he was about to stab me a third time, when I struck him with the stone and knocked him down. I then run, but the guard who had been alarmed, immediately took me and carried me before the Governor, where I understood the man was dead.
“I offered him all the money I had, about seven shillings and sixpence, to let me go, but it was useless. I told him I was an American, trying to escape from a long confinement, and that I was determined to get past him, so I picked up a stone. He immediately drew his bayonet and ordered me to come back with him. I refused and told him to stay away. He then charged at me and shoved his bayonet into my side. It came out near my navel, but the wound wasn't very deep; then he made a second attempt and stabbed me in my arm. He was about to stab me a third time when I hit him with the stone and knocked him down. I ran, but the guard, who had been alerted, quickly caught me and took me before the Governor, where I learned that the man had died.
“I was threatened with every kind of death, and ordered out of the Governor’s presence. * * * Next day I was sent on board the Greyhound, the ship I had run from, and we sailed for England. Our captain being a humane man ordered my irons off, a few days after we sailed, and permitted me to do duty as formerly. Being out thirteen days we spoke the Hazard sloop of war, who informed that the French fleet was then cruising in the English Channel. For this reason we put into Cork, and the dispatches were forwarded to England.
“I was threatened with every possible death and ordered to leave the Governor’s presence. * * * The next day, I was sent aboard the Greyhound, the ship I had escaped from, and we set sail for England. Our captain, being a kind man, ordered my shackles removed a few days after we sailed and allowed me to serve as I had before. After thirteen days at sea, we encountered the Hazard sloop of war, which informed us that the French fleet was currently operating in the English Channel. For this reason, we stopped in Cork, and the dispatches were sent to England.”
“While we lay in the Cove of Cork I jumped overboard with the intention of getting away; unfortunately I was discovered and fired at by the marines; the boat was immediately sent after me, took me up, and carried me on board again. At this time almost all the officers were on shore, and the ship was left in charge of the sailing-master, one Drummond, who beat me most cruelly. To get out of his way I run forward, he followed me, and as I was running back he came up with me and threw me down the main-hold. The fall, together with the beating was so severe that I was deprived of my senses for a considerable time. When I recovered them I found myself in the carpenter’s berth, placed upon some old canvas between two chests, having my right thigh, leg and arm broken, and several parts of my body severely bruised. In this situation I lay eighteen days till our officers, who had been on business to Dublin, came on board. The captain inquired for the prisoners, and on being informed of my situation came down with the doctor to set my bones, but finding them callussed they concluded not to meddle with me.
“While we were in the Cove of Cork, I jumped overboard hoping to escape; unfortunately, I was spotted and shot at by the marines. A boat was immediately sent after me, picked me up, and brought me back on board. At that time, almost all the officers were on shore, leaving the ship in the hands of the sailing-master, one Drummond, who beat me brutally. To avoid him, I ran forward, he chased me, and as I was running back, he caught up with me and threw me down the main hold. The fall, along with the beating, was so severe that I lost consciousness for quite a while. When I came to, I found myself in the carpenter’s berth, placed on some old canvas between two chests, with my right thigh, leg, and arm broken, and several parts of my body badly bruised. I stayed in this condition for eighteen days until our officers, who had been doing business in Dublin, came back on board. The captain asked about the prisoners, and when he learned about my situation, he came down with the doctor to set my bones, but they found them already healed and decided not to touch me.”
“The ship lay at Cork until the French fleet left the Channel, and then sailed for Spithead. On our arrival there I was sent in irons on board the Princess Amelia, and the next day was carried on board the Brittania, in Portsmouth Harbor, to be tried before Sir Thomas Pye, lord high admiral of England, and President of the court martial.
“The ship stayed in Cork until the French fleet left the Channel, and then sailed to Spithead. When we got there, I was put in chains on board the Princess Amelia, and the next day was taken on board the Britannia, in Portsmouth Harbor, to be tried before Sir Thomas Pye, the lord high admiral of England, and President of the court martial.”
“Before the officers had collected I was put under the care of a sentinel, and the seamen and women who came on board compassionated my sufferings, which rather heightened than diminished my distress.
“Before the officers gathered, I was placed under the watch of a guard, and the sailors who came on board felt sorry for my pain, which only added to my distress instead of easing it.”
“I was sitting under the awning, almost overpowered by the reflection of my unhappy situation, every morning expecting to be summoned for my trial, when I heard somebody enquire for the prisoner, and supposing it to be an officer I rose up and answered that I was there.
“I was sitting under the awning, nearly overwhelmed by the reflection of my miserable situation, every morning anticipating a call for my trial, when I heard someone ask for the prisoner. Thinking it was an officer, I got up and replied that I was there.”
“The gentleman came to me, told me to be of good chear, and taking out a bottle of cordial, bade me drink, which I did. He then enquired where I belonged. I informed him. He asked me if I had parents living, and if I had any friends in England? I answered I had neither. He then assured me he was my friend, and would render me all the assistance in his power. He then enquired of me every circumstance relative to my fray with the man at Halifax, for whose death I was now to be tried and instructed me what to say on my trial, etc.”
“The gentleman approached me, told me to stay positive, and pulled out a bottle of cordial, urging me to drink, which I did. He then asked me where I was from. I told him. He wanted to know if my parents were alive and if I had any friends in England. I replied that I had neither. He then reassured me that he was my friend and would help me in any way he could. He then asked me about the details of my altercation with the man in Halifax, for whose death I was now being tried, and advised me on what to say during my trial, etc.”
Whether this man was a philanthropist, or an agent for the East India Company, we do not know. He instructed Blatchford to plead guilty, and then defended him from the charge of murder, no doubt on the plea of self-defence. Blatchford was therefore acquitted of murder, but apparently sold to the East India Company as a slave. How this was condoned we do not know, but will let the poor sailor continue his narrative in his own words.
Whether this man was a philanthropist or an agent for the East India Company, we don't know. He told Blatchford to plead guilty and then defended him against the murder charge, probably claiming self-defense. As a result, Blatchford was acquitted of murder but apparently sold as a slave to the East India Company. We don't know how this was allowed, but we’ll let the unfortunate sailor continue his story in his own words.
“I was carried on board an Indiaman, and immediately put down into the run, where I was confined ten days. * * * On the seventh day I heard the boatswain pipe all hands, and about noon I was called up on board, where I found myself on board the Princess Royal, Captain Robert Kerr, bound to the East Indies, with six others, all large ships belonging to the East India Company.” He had been told that he was to be sent back to America to be exchanged, and his disappointment amounted almost to despair.
“I was taken aboard an Indiaman and immediately put down in the hold, where I was locked up for ten days. * * * On the seventh day, I heard the boatswain call everyone, and around noon I was brought back on deck, where I found myself on the Princess Royal, Captain Robert Kerr, headed to the East Indies, along with six others, all large ships owned by the East India Company.” He had been informed that he was to be sent back to America to be exchanged, and his disappointment felt almost like despair.
“Our captain told me if I behaved well and did my duty I should receive as good usage as any man on board; this gave me great encouragement. I now found my destiny fixed, that whatever I could do would not in the least alter my situation, and therefor was determined to do the best I could, and make myself as contented as my unfortunate situation would admit.
“Our captain told me that if I did my job well and behaved myself, I would be treated just like any other man on board; this really motivated me. I realized my fate was set, and that no matter what I did, it wouldn't change my situation at all. So, I decided to do my best and try to be as content as I could, given my unfortunate circumstances.
“After being on board seven days I found there were in the Princess Royal 82 Americans, all destined to the East Indies, for being what they called ‘Rebels.’
“After being on board for seven days, I discovered that there were 82 Americans on the Princess Royal, all headed to the East Indies for being what they referred to as 'rebels.'”
“We had a passage of seventeen weeks to St Helena, where we put in and landed part of our cargo, which consisted wholly of provisions. * * * The ship lay here about three weeks. We then sailed for Batavia, and on the passage touched at the Cape of Good Hope, where we found the whole of the fleet that sailed with us from England. We took in some provisions and necessaries, and set sail for Batavia, where we arrived in ten weeks. Here we purchased a large quantity of arrack, and remained a considerable time.
“We had a journey of seventeen weeks to St. Helena, where we docked and unloaded part of our cargo, which was entirely made up of provisions. * * * The ship stayed there for about three weeks. We then left for Batavia, and during the trip, we stopped at the Cape of Good Hope, where we found the entire fleet that had sailed with us from England. We stocked up on some provisions and essentials, then set sail for Batavia, arriving after ten weeks. While we were there, we bought a large quantity of arrack and stayed for a significant amount of time."
“We then sailed for Bencoulen in the Island of Sumatria, and after a passage of about six weeks arrived there. This was in June, 1780.
“We then set sail for Bencoulen on the island of Sumatra, and after a journey of about six weeks, we arrived there. This was in June 1780.
“At this place the Americans were all carried on shore, and I found that I was no longer to remain on board the ship, but condemned to serve as a soldier for five years. I offered to bind myself to the captain for five years, or any longer term if I might serve on board the ship. He told me it was impossible for me to be released from acting as a soldier, unless I could pay £50, sterling. As I was unable to do this I was obliged to go through the manual exercise with the other prisoners; among whom was Wm. Randall of Boston, and Josiah Folgier of Nantucket, both young men, and one of them an old ship-mate of mine.
“At this place, all the Americans were taken ashore, and I realized that I would no longer stay on the ship but was sentenced to serve as a soldier for five years. I offered to commit to the captain for five years or any longer term if I could stay on board the ship. He told me it was impossible for me to be released from serving as a soldier unless I could pay £50, sterling. Since I couldn’t do this, I had to go through the manual exercises with the other prisoners, including Wm. Randall from Boston and Josiah Folgier from Nantucket, both young men, one of whom was an old shipmate of mine.
“These two and myself agreed to behave as ignorant and awkward as possible, and what motions we learned one day we were to forget the next. We pursued this conduct nearly a fortnight, and were beaten every day by the drill-sergeant who exercised us, and when he found we were determined, in our obstinacy, and that it was not possible for him to learn us anything, we were all three sent into the pepper gardens belonging to the East India Company; and continued picking peppers from morning till night, and allowed but two scanty meals a day. This, together with the amazing heat of the sun, the island lying under the equator, was too much for an American constitution, unused to a hot climate, and we expected that we should soon end our misery and our lives; but Providence still preserved us for greater hardships.
“These two and I agreed to act as clueless and clumsy as we could, and whatever we learned one day, we would forget the next. We kept this up for almost two weeks and got reprimanded every day by the drill sergeant who trained us. When he realized we were stubborn and that he couldn’t teach us anything, he sent us all three to the pepper gardens owned by the East India Company. We spent our days picking peppers from morning till night and were given only two meager meals a day. This, along with the intense heat of the sun, since the island was located near the equator, was overwhelming for an American body not used to such a hot climate. We thought we would soon end our misery and our lives, but Providence still kept us alive for even greater challenges.”
“The Americans died daily with heat and hard fare, which determined my two comrades and myself in an endeavor to make our escape. We had been in the pepper-gardens four months when an opportunity offered, and we resolved upon trying our fortune. Folgier, Randall and myself sat out with an intention of reaching Croy (a small harbor where the Dutch often touched at to water, on the opposite side of the island). Folgier had by some means got a bayonet, which he fixed in the end of a stick. Randall and myself had nothing but staves, which were all the weapons we carried with us. We provided ourselves with fireworks [he means flints to strike fire] for our journey, which we pursued unmolested till the fourth day just at night, when we heard a rustle in the bushes and discovered nine sepoys, who rushed out upon us.
“The Americans were dying every day from the heat and poor food, which drove my two friends and me to try to escape. We had been in the pepper gardens for four months when an opportunity arose, and we decided to take our chances. Folgier, Randall, and I set out with the goal of reaching Croy (a small harbor where the Dutch often stopped to resupply, on the opposite side of the island). Folgier somehow managed to get a bayonet, which he attached to the end of a stick. Randall and I only had clubs as our weapons. We packed some fireworks [he means flints to strike fire] for our journey, which went smoothly until the fourth day, just at night, when we heard rustling in the bushes and saw nine sepoys rushing toward us.
“Folgier being the most resolute of us run at one of them, and pushed his bayonet through his body into a tree. Randall knocked down another; but they overpowered us, bound us, and carried us back to the fort, which we reached in a day and a half, though we had been four days travelling from it, owing to the circle we made by going round the shore, and they came across the woods being acquainted with the way.
“Folgier, the most determined among us, charged at one of them and drove his bayonet through his body into a tree. Randall took down another, but they overpowered us, tied us up, and took us back to the fort. We arrived there in a day and a half, even though it had taken us four days to travel from it because we had made a detour around the shore, while they cut through the woods, knowing the route.”
“Immediately on our arrival at the fort the Governor called a court martial, to have us tried. We were soon all condemned to be shot next morning at seven o’clock, and ordered to be sent into the dungeon and confined in irons, where we were attended by an adjutant who brought a priest with him to pray and converse with us, but Folgier, who hated the sight of an Englishman, desired that we might be left alone. * * * the clergyman reprimanded him, and told him he made very light of his situation on the supposition that he would be reprieved; but if he expected it he deceived himself. Folgier still persisted in the clergyman’s leaving us, if he would have us make our peace with God, ‘for,’ said he, ‘the sight of Englishmen, from whom we have received such treatment, is more disagreeable than the evil spirits of which you have spoken;’ that, if he could have his choice, he would choose death in preference to life, if he must have it on the condition of such barbarous usage as he had received from their hands; and the thoughts of death did not seem so hideous to him as his past sufferings.
“Right after we arrived at the fort, the Governor called a court martial to put us on trial. We were quickly sentenced to be shot the next morning at seven o'clock and ordered to be thrown in the dungeon, locked up in chains. An adjutant came to look after us and brought a priest to pray and talk with us, but Folgier, who couldn’t stand the sight of an Englishman, asked to be left alone. * * * The clergyman scolded him, saying he didn’t take his situation seriously, thinking he would be spared; but if he expected that, he was fooling himself. Folgier still insisted the priest leave us if he wanted us to make peace with God, ‘because,’ he said, ‘seeing Englishmen, from whom we’ve suffered so much, is more unpleasant than the evil spirits you mentioned;’ that if he could choose, he would rather die than live under such cruel treatment as he had gotten from them; and the thought of death didn’t seem so awful to him as his previous suffering.”
“He visited us again about midnight, but finding his company was not acceptable, he soon left us to our melancholy reflections.
“He visited us again around midnight, but realizing his presence wasn’t welcomed, he quickly left us to our sad thoughts.”
“Before sunrise we heard the drums beat, and soon after heard the direful noise of the door grating on its iron hinges. We were all taken out, our irons taken off, and we conducted by a strong guard of soldiers to the parade, surrounded by a circle of armed men, and led into the midst of them, where three white officers were placed by our side;—silence was then commanded, and the adjutant taking a paper out of his pocket read our sentence;—and now I cannot describe my feelings upon this occasion, nor can it be felt by any one but those who have experienced some remarkable deliverance from the grim hand of death, when surrounded on all sides, and nothing but death expected from every quarter, and by Divine Providence there is some way found out for escape—so it seemed to me when the adjutant pulled out another paper from his pocket and read: ‘That the Governor and Council, in consideration of the youth of Randall and myself, supposing us to be led on by Folgier, who was the oldest, thought proper to pardon us from death, and that instead we were to receive 800 lashes each.’
“Before sunrise, we heard the drums beating, and soon after, we heard the terrible noise of the door grinding on its iron hinges. We were all taken out, our chains removed, and escorted by a strong guard of soldiers to the parade, surrounded by a circle of armed men. We were led into their midst, where three white officers stood beside us; silence was then demanded, and the adjutant took a paper out of his pocket and read our sentence. I can't describe my feelings during this moment, nor can anyone truly understand unless they've gone through a remarkable escape from the grim hand of death, when surrounded on all sides with nothing but death expected from every direction, and by Divine Providence, a way to escape suddenly appears. That’s how it felt to me when the adjutant pulled out another paper from his pocket and read: ‘That the Governor and Council, considering the youth of Randall and me, assuming we were led on by Folgier, who was the oldest, deemed it appropriate to pardon us from death, and that instead we were to receive 800 lashes each.’”
“Although this last sentence seemed terrible to me, yet in comparison with death, it seemed to be light. Poor Folgier was shot in our presence,—previous to which we were told we might go and converse with him. Randall went and talked with him first, and after him I went up to take my leave, but my feelings were such at the time I had not power to utter a single word to my departing friend, who seemed as undaunted and seemingly as willing to die as I was to be released, and told me not to forget the promises we had formerly made to each other, which was to embrace the first opportunity to escape.
“Even though that last sentence felt terrible to me, when I compared it to death, it seemed light. Poor Folgier was shot right in front of us. Before that, we were told we could go and talk to him. Randall went to speak with him first, and after that, I went up to say goodbye, but I felt so overwhelmed at the time that I couldn’t say a single word to my departing friend. He seemed as fearless and just as willing to die as I was to be free, and he reminded me not to forget the promises we had made to each other, which was to seize the first chance we had to escape.”
“We parted, and he was immediately after shot dead. We were next taken and tied, and the adjutant brought a small whip made of cotton, which consisted of a number of strands and knotted at the ends; but these knots were all cut off by the adjutant before the drummer took it, which made it not worse than to have been whipped with cotton yarn.
“We parted, and he was immediately shot dead afterward. We were then taken and tied up, and the adjutant brought a small whip made of cotton, which was made up of several strands and knotted at the ends; however, the adjutant cut off all the knots before the drummer took it, which made it no worse than being whipped with cotton yarn.”
“After being whipped 800 lashes we were sent to the Company’s hospital, where we had been about three weeks when Randall told me he intended very soon to make his escape:—This somewhat surprised me, as I had lost all hopes of regaining my liberty, and supposed he had. I told him I had hoped he would never mention it again; but however, if that was his design, I would accompany him. He advised me, if I was fearful, to tarry behind; but finding he was determined on going, I resolved to run the risque once more; and as we were then in a hospital we were not suspected of such a design.
“After being whipped 800 times, we were sent to the Company’s hospital. We had been there about three weeks when Randall told me he planned to escape soon. This surprised me, as I had lost all hope of regaining my freedom and assumed he had too. I told him I had hoped he would never bring it up again; however, if that was his plan, I would join him. He suggested that if I was afraid, I should stay behind, but seeing that he was set on going, I decided to take the risk one more time; and since we were in a hospital, no one suspected us of such a plan."
“Having provided ourselves with fire-works, and knives, about the first of December, 1780, we sat out, with the intent to reach the Dutch settlement of Croy, which is about two or three hundred miles distance upon a direct line, but as we were obliged to travel along the coast (fearing to risque the nearest way), it was a journey of 800 miles.
“After gathering fireworks and knives, around the beginning of December 1780, we set out with the goal of reaching the Dutch settlement of Croy, which is about two or three hundred miles away in a straight line. However, since we had to travel along the coast (worried about taking the riskier direct route), it ended up being a journey of 800 miles.”
“We took each a stick and hung it around our neck, and every day cut a notch, which was the method we took to keep time.
“We each took a stick and hung it around our neck, and every day we cut a notch, which was how we kept track of time.
“In this manner we travelled, living upon fruit, turtle eggs, and sometimes turtle, which we cooked every night with the fire we built to secure us from wild beasts, they being in great plenty,—such as buffaloes, tigers, jackanapes, leopards, lions, and baboons and monkies.
“In this way we traveled, surviving on fruit, turtle eggs, and occasionally turtle, which we cooked every night with the fire we made to protect ourselves from wild animals, which were numerous—like buffalo, tigers, monkeys, leopards, lions, and baboons.”
“On the 30th day of our traveling we met with nothing we could eat and found no water. At night we found some fruit which appeared to the eyes to be very delicious, different from any we had seen in our travels. It resembled a fruit which grows in the West Indies, called a Jack, about the size of an orange. We being very dry and hungry immediately gathered some of this fruit, but finding it of a sweet, sickish taste, I eat but two. Randall eat freely. In the evening we found we were poisoned: I was sick and puked considerably, Randall was sick and began to swell all round his body. He grew worse all night, but continued to have his senses till the next day, when he died, and left me to mourn my greater wretchedness,—more than 400 miles from any settlement, no companion, the wide ocean on one side, and a prowling wilderness on the other, liable to many kinds of death, more terrible than being shot.
“On the 30th day of our journey, we found nothing to eat and no water. At night, we discovered some fruit that looked very tempting, unlike anything we had encountered before. It looked similar to a fruit from the West Indies called a Jack, about the size of an orange. Being extremely thirsty and hungry, we quickly gathered some of this fruit, but it had a sweet, sickly taste, and I could only eat two. Randall ate quite a bit. By evening, we realized we had been poisoned: I felt sick and threw up a lot, and Randall got sick and started swelling all over. He got worse throughout the night but stayed aware until the next day when he died, leaving me to mourn my greater misery—more than 400 miles from any settlement, completely alone, with the vast ocean on one side and a dangerous wilderness on the other, facing all kinds of deaths, worse than being shot.”
“I laid down by Randall’s body, wishing, if possible, that he might return and tell me what course to take. My thoughts almost distracted me, so that I was unable to do anything untill the next day, during all which time I continued by the side of Randall. I then got up and made a hole in the sand and buried him.
“I lay down beside Randall’s body, hoping, if at all possible, that he might come back and tell me what to do. My thoughts were so overwhelming that I couldn’t do anything until the next day, during which time I stayed by Randall’s side. I then got up, dug a hole in the sand, and buried him.
“I now continued my journey as well as the weak state of my body would permit,—the weather being at the time extremely hot and rainy. I frequently lay down and would wish that I might never rise again;—despair had almost wholly possessed me; and sometimes in a kind of delirium I would fancy I heard my mother’s voice, and my father calling me, and I would answer them. At other times my wild imagination would paint to my view scenes which I was acquainted with. Then supposing myself near home I would run as fast as my legs could carry me. Frequently I fancied that I heard dogs bark, men cutting wood, and every noise which I have heard in my native country.
“I kept going on my journey as much as my weak body would allow—at the time, the weather was extremely hot and rainy. I often lay down, wishing I would never get up again; despair had almost completely taken over me. Sometimes, in a sort of delirium, I thought I heard my mother’s voice and my father calling me, and I would respond to them. At other times, my wild imagination would conjure up familiar scenes. Then, believing I was close to home, I would run as fast as my legs could carry me. I often thought I heard dogs barking, men chopping wood, and every sound I had heard in my home country.”
“One day as I was travelling a small dog, as I thought it to be, came fawning round me and followed me, but I soon discovered it to be a young lion. I supposed that its dam must be nigh, and therefore run. It followed me some time and then left me. I proceeded on, but had not got far from it before it began to cry. I looked round and saw a lioness making towards it. She yelled most frightfully, which greatly terrified me; but she laid down something from her mouth for her young one, and then with another yell turned and went off from me.
“One day while I was traveling, a small dog, or so I thought, came up to me and followed me around, but I quickly realized it was a young lion. I figured its mother must be nearby, so I ran away. It followed me for a while and then left. I kept going, but I hadn't gotten far before it started crying. I turned around and saw a lioness approaching it. She roared loudly, which scared me a lot; but then she laid something down in front of her cub and with another roar, she turned and ran away from me.”
“Some days after I was travelling by the edge of a woods, which from its appearance had felt severely the effects of a tornado or hurricane, the trees being all torn up by the roots, and I heard a crackling noise in the bushes. Looking about I saw a monstrous large tiger making slowly towards me, which frightened me exceedingly. When he had approached within a few rods of me, in my surprise I lifted up my hands and hollowed very loud. The sudden noise frightened him, seemingly as much as I had been, and he immediately turned and run into the woods, and I saw him no more.
“Some days later, I was walking along the edge of a forest that looked like it had been hit hard by a tornado or hurricane, with trees uprooted everywhere. Suddenly, I heard a crackling sound in the bushes. When I looked around, I saw a huge tiger slowly coming toward me, which scared me to death. As it got within a few yards of me, I raised my hands and shouted very loudly in surprise. The sudden noise startled him as much as it had startled me, and he immediately turned and ran back into the woods, and I never saw him again.”
“After this I continued to travel on without molestation, only from the monkies who were here so plentiful that oftentimes I saw them in large droves; sometimes I run from them, as if afraid of them, they would then follow, grin, and chatter at me, and when they got near I would turn, and they would run from me back into the woods, and climb the trees to get out of my way.
“After this, I continued to travel without being bothered, except by the monkeys, which were so abundant that I often saw them in large groups. Sometimes I would run from them, pretending to be scared, and they would follow, grinning and chattering at me. When they got close, I would turn around, and they would run back into the woods and climb the trees to get out of my way."
“It was now 15 weeks since I had left the hospital. I had travelled most all of the day without any water and began to be very thirsty, when I heard the sound of running water, as it were down a fall of rocks. I had heard it a considerable time and at last began to suspect it was nothing, but imaginary, as many other noises I had before thought to have heard. I however went on as fast as I could, and at length discovered a brook. On approaching it I was not a little surprised and rejoiced by the sight of a Female Indian, who was fishing at the brook. She had no other dress on than that which mother nature affords impartially to all her children, except a small cloth which she wore round her waist.
“It had now been 15 weeks since I left the hospital. I had traveled most of the day without any water and was starting to feel very thirsty when I heard the sound of running water, like it was cascading down rocks. I had heard it for quite a while and eventually began to suspect it was just my imagination, like many other noises I'd mistaken for real before. However, I kept moving as quickly as I could and finally discovered a brook. When I got closer, I was quite surprised and happy to see a Native American woman fishing by the brook. She was wearing nothing but what nature provides to all her children, except for a small cloth wrapped around her waist.”
“I knew not how to address myself to her. I was afraid if I spoke she would run, and therefore I made a small noise; upon which she looked round, and seeing me, run across the brook, seemingly much frightened, leaving her fishing line. I went up to her basket which contained five or six fish which looked much like our trout. I took up the basket and attempted to wade across where she had passed, but was too weak to wade across in that place, and went further up the stream, where I passed over, and then looking for the Indian woman I saw her at some distance behind a large cocoa-nut tree. I walked towards her but dared not keep my eyes steadily upon her lest she would run as she did before. I called to her in English, and she answered in her own tongue, which I could not understand. I then called to her in the Malaysian, which I understood a little of; she answered me in a kind of surprise and asked me in the name of Okrum Footee (the name of their God) from whence I came, and where I was going. I answered her as well as I could in the Melais, that I was from Fort Marlborough, and going to Croy—that I was making my escape from the English, by whom I had been taken in war. She told me that she had been taken by the Malays some years before, for that the two nations were always at war, and that she had been kept as a slave among them three years and was then retaken by her countrymen. While we were talking together she appeared to be very shy, and I durst not come nearer than a rod to her, lest she should run from me. She said that Croy, the place I was bound to, was about three miles distant: That if I would follow her she would conduct me to her countrymen, who were but a small distance off. I begged her to plead with her countrymen to spare my life. She said she would, and assured me that if I behaved well I should not be hurt. She then conducted me to a small village, consisting of huts or wigwams. When we arrived at the village the children that saw me were frightened and run away from me, and the women exhibited a great deal of fear and kept at a distance. But my guide called to them and told them not to be afraid, for that I was not come to hurt them, and then informed them from whence I came, and that I was going to Croy.
“I didn’t know how to approach her. I was afraid that if I spoke, she would run away, so I made a small noise to get her attention. When she looked around and saw me, she ran across the brook, looking quite scared, leaving her fishing line behind. I walked over to her basket, which had five or six fish that looked a lot like our trout. I picked up the basket and tried to wade across where she had crossed, but I was too weak to make it, so I moved further up the stream where I could get across. Then, looking for the Indian woman, I saw her a little distance away behind a large coconut tree. I walked toward her but didn’t want to look directly at her for fear she would run off again. I called out to her in English, and she replied in her language, which I didn’t understand. I then spoke to her in Malay, which I understood a bit; she responded in surprise and asked me, in the name of Okrum Footee (the name of their God), where I came from and where I was going. I did my best to explain in Malay that I was from Fort Marlborough and heading to Croy—that I was escaping from the English, who had captured me in war. She told me that she had been taken by the Malays a few years earlier, since the two nations were always at war, and that she had been kept as a slave among them for three years before being rescued by her countrymen. While we talked, she seemed very shy, and I didn’t dare to come closer than about a rod to her, fearing she might flee again. She said that Croy, my destination, was about three miles away and that if I followed her, she would take me to her people, who were not far away. I asked her to convince her people to spare my life. She promised she would and assured me that if I behaved well, I wouldn’t be harmed. She then led me to a small village made up of huts or wigwams. When we arrived, the children who saw me were frightened and ran away, and the women showed a lot of fear and kept their distance. But my guide called out to them, telling them not to be afraid because I hadn’t come to hurt them, and then she explained where I was from and that I was going to Croy.”
“I told my guide I was very hungry, and she sent the children for something for me to eat. They came and brought me little round balls of rice, and they, not daring to come nigh, threw them at me. These I picked up and eat. Afterwards a woman brought some rice and goat’s milk in a copper bason, and setting it on the ground made signs for me to take it up and eat it, which I did, and then put the bason down again. They then poked away the bason with a stick, battered it with stones, and making a hole in the ground, buried it.
“I told my guide I was really hungry, and she sent the kids to get me something to eat. They came back and tossed little round balls of rice at me, not daring to come too close. I picked them up and ate them. Then a woman brought some rice and goat’s milk in a copper basin, set it on the ground, and gestured for me to take it and eat, which I did, and then I put the basin down again. They then pushed the basin away with a stick, hit it with stones, and dug a hole in the ground to bury it.”
“After that they conducted me to a small hut, and told me to tarry there until the morning, when they would conduct me to the harbor. I had but little sleep that night, and was up several time to look out, and saw two or three Indians at a little distance from the hut, who I supposed were placed there to watch me.
“After that, they took me to a small hut and told me to wait there until morning, when they would take me to the harbor. I barely slept that night and got up several times to look out. I saw two or three Native Americans a little distance from the hut, and I assumed they were there to keep watch over me.”
“Early in the morning numbers came around the hut, and the female who was my guide asked me where my country was? I could not make her understand, only that it was at a great distance. She then asked me if my countrymen eat men? I told her, no, and seeing some goats pointed at them, and told her we eat such as them. She then asked me what made me white, and if it was not the white rain that come upon us when we were small * * * as I wished to please them I told her that I supposed it was, for it was only in certain seasons of the year that it fell, and in hot weather when it did not fall the people grew darker until it returned, and then the people all grew white again. This seemed to please them very much.
“Early in the morning, people approached the hut, and the woman who was my guide asked me where my country was. I couldn't make her understand, only that it was far away. Then she asked me if my countrymen eat people. I told her no, and seeing some goats, I pointed at them and told her we eat animals like those. She then asked me what makes me white, and if it wasn't the white rain that fell on us when we were little. Since I wanted to please them, I told her that I guessed it was, because it only fell during certain seasons of the year, and in hot weather, when it didn’t fall, the people grew darker until it returned, and then everyone became white again. This seemed to make them very happy.
“My protectress then brought a young man to me who she said was her brother, and who would show me the way to the harbour. She then cut a stick about eight feet long, and he took hold of one end and gave me the other. She told me that she had instructed her brother what to say at the harbour. He then led off, and I followed. During our walk I put out my hand to him several times, and made signs of friendship, but he seemed to be afraid of me, and would look upwards and then fall flat on the ground and kiss it: this he repeated as often as I made any sign or token of friendship to him.
“My protector then brought a young man to me who she said was her brother, and who would show me the way to the harbor. She then cut a stick about eight feet long, and he took hold of one end and gave me the other. She told me that she had instructed her brother on what to say at the harbor. He then started walking, and I followed. During our walk, I reached out to him several times and gestured friendship, but he seemed to be afraid of me. He would look up, then fall flat on the ground and kiss it; he repeated this every time I made any sign of friendship towards him.
“When we had got near the harbor he made a sign for me to sit down upon a rock, which I did. He then left me and went, as I supposed, to talk to the people at the water concerning me; but I had not sat long before I saw a vessel coming round the point into the harbor.
“When we got close to the harbor, he signaled for me to sit down on a rock, which I did. He then left me and went, as I assumed, to talk to the people by the water about me; but I hadn’t been sitting long before I saw a ship coming around the point into the harbor.”
“They soon came on shore in the boat. I went down to them and made my case known and when the boat returned on board they took me with them. It was a Dutch snow bound from China to Batavia. After they had wooded and watered they set sail for Batavia:—being out about three weeks we arrived there: I tarried on board her about three weeks longer, and then got on board a Spanish ship which was from Rio de la Plate bound to Spain, but by stress of weather was obliged to put into this port. After the vessel had repaired we sailed for Spain. When we made the Cape of Good Hope we fell in with two British cruisers of twenty guns each, who engaged us and did the vessel considerable damage, but at length we beat them off, and then run for the coast of Brazil, where we arrived safe, and began to work at repairing our ship, but upon examination she was found to be not fit to proceed on her voyage. She was therefore condemned. I then left her and got on board a Portuguese snow bound up to St. Helena, and we arrived safe at that place.
“They soon came ashore in the boat. I went down to them and explained my situation, and when the boat returned to the ship, they took me with them. It was a Dutch snowship bound from China to Batavia. After they stocked up on firewood and water, they set sail for Batavia. After being at sea for about three weeks, we arrived there. I stayed on board for another three weeks and then got on a Spanish ship coming from Rio de la Plata that was headed for Spain but had to stop at this port due to bad weather. Once the vessel was repaired, we set sail for Spain. When we reached the Cape of Good Hope, we encountered two British cruisers with twenty guns each, who attacked us and caused considerable damage to the ship. Eventually, we fought them off and then headed for the coast of Brazil, where we arrived safely and began repairs on our ship. However, upon inspection, it was determined that she was not fit to continue her journey. Therefore, she was condemned. I then left her and boarded a Portuguese snowship headed for St. Helena, and we arrived there safely.”
“I then went on shore and quitted her and engaged in the garrison there to do duty as a soldier for my provisions till some ship should arrive there bound for England. After serving there a month I entered on board a ship called the Stormont, but orders were soon after received that no Indiaman should sail without convoy; and we lay here six months, during which time the Captain died.
“I then went ashore, left the ship, and joined the garrison there to serve as a soldier in exchange for my provisions until a ship bound for England arrived. After a month of service, I boarded a ship called the Stormont, but soon after, orders came in that no Indiaman could sail without a convoy; we stayed there for six months, during which the Captain died."
“While I was in St. Helena the vessel in which I came out from England arrived here, homeward bound; she being on the return from her second voyage since I came from England. And now I made known my case to Captain Kerr, who readily took me on board the Princess Royal, and used me kindly and those of my old ship-mates on board were glad to see me again. Captain Kerr on first seeing me asked me if I was not afraid to let him know who I was, and endeavored to frighten me; yet his conduct towards me was humane and kind.
“While I was in St. Helena, the ship that brought me from England arrived here, heading back home; it was returning from its second trip since I left England. I shared my situation with Captain Kerr, who happily took me on board the Princess Royal, treating me kindly. My old shipmates on board were also glad to see me again. When Captain Kerr first saw me, he asked if I was afraid to tell him who I was and tried to scare me; yet his treatment of me was compassionate and friendly.”
“It had been very sickly on board the Princess Royal, and the greater part of the hands who came out of England in her had died, and she was now manned chiefly with lascars. Among those who had died was the boatswain, and boatswain’s mate, and Captain Kerr made me boatswain of the ship, in which office I continued until we arrived in London, and it protected me from being impressed upon our arrival in England.
“It had been really unhealthy on board the Princess Royal, and most of the crew who came from England had died, so now it was mainly staffed by lascars. Among those who had passed away were the boatswain and the boatswain’s mate, and Captain Kerr appointed me as the boatswain of the ship, a role I held until we arrived in London, which kept me from being forced into service when we got to England."
“We sailed from St. Helena about the first of November, 1781, under convoy of the Experiment of fifty guns, commanded by Captain Henry, and the Shark sloop of war of 18 guns, and we arrived in London about the first of March, 1782, it having been about two years and a half from the time I had left it.
“We set sail from St. Helena around the beginning of November 1781, under the protection of the Experiment, a 50-gun ship commanded by Captain Henry, along with the Shark, an 18-gun sloop of war. We reached London around the beginning of March 1782, marking about two and a half years since I had last left it.”
“In about a fortnight after our arrival in London I entered on board the King George, a store-ship bound to Antigua, and after four weeks passage arrived there.
“In about two weeks after we got to London, I boarded the King George, a supply ship heading to Antigua, and after four weeks at sea, we arrived there."
“The second night after we came to anchor in Antigua I took the ship’s boat and escaped in her to Montserrat (in the West Indies) which place had but just before been taken by the French.
“The second night after we anchored in Antigua, I took the ship’s boat and escaped to Montserrat (in the West Indies), which had just recently been taken by the French.”
“Here I did not meet with the treatment which I expected; for on my arrival at Montserrat I was immediately taken up and put in prison, where I continued twenty-four hours, and my boat taken from me. I was then sent to Guadaloupe, and examined by the Governor. I made known my case to him, by acquainting him with the misfortunes I had gone through in my captivity, and in making my escape. He seemed to commiserate me, gave me ten dollars for the boat that I escaped in, and provided a passage for me on board a French brigantine that was bound from Gaudaloupe to Philadelphia.
“Here, I didn’t receive the treatment I expected; when I arrived at Montserrat, I was immediately arrested and put in prison, where I stayed for twenty-four hours, and my boat was taken from me. I was then sent to Guadeloupe and questioned by the Governor. I shared my story with him, explaining the hardships I had endured during my captivity and escape. He appeared sympathetic, gave me ten dollars for the boat I escaped in, and arranged a passage for me on a French brigantine headed from Guadeloupe to Philadelphia.”
“The vessel sailed in a few days, and now my prospects were favorable, but my misfortunes were not to end here, for after being out twenty-one days we fell in with the Anphitrite and Amphene, two British cruizers, off the Capes of Delaware, by which we were taken, carried in to New York and put on board the Jersey prison ship. After being on board about a week a cartel was fitted out for France, and I was sent on board as a French prisoner. The cartel was ordered for St. Maloes, and after a passage of thirty-two days we arrived safe at that place.
“The ship set sail a few days later, and my outlook was promising, but my troubles weren’t over yet. After twenty-one days at sea, we encountered the Anphitrite and Amphene, two British cruisers, off the Delaware Capes. They captured us, took us to New York, and put us on the Jersey prison ship. After about a week aboard, a cartel was arranged for France, and I was sent on board as a French prisoner. The cartel was headed to St. Malo, and after a thirty-two-day journey, we arrived safely at that destination.”
“Finding no American vessel at St. Male’s, I went to the Commandant, and procured a pass to go by land to Port l’Orient. On my arrival there I found three American privateers belonging to Beverley in the Massachusetts. I was much elated at seeing so many of my countrymen, some of whom I was well acquainted with. I immediately entered on board the Buccaneer, Captain Pheirson. We sailed on a cruise, and after being out eighteen days we returned to L’Orient with six prizes. Three days after our arrival in port we heard the joyful news of peace; on which the privateer was dismantled, the people discharged, and Captain P sailed on a merchant voyage to Norway.
“Finding no American ship at St. Male’s, I went to the Commandant and got a pass to travel overland to Port l’Orient. When I got there, I discovered three American privateers belonging to Beverley in Massachusetts. I was really excited to see so many of my fellow countrymen, some of whom I knew well. I immediately boarded the Buccaneer, Captain Pheirson. We set sail on a cruise, and after eighteen days at sea, we returned to L’Orient with six prizes. Three days after we arrived in port, we heard the great news of peace; as a result, the privateer was dismantled, the crew was released, and Captain P set off on a merchant voyage to Norway.”
“I then entered on board a brig bound to Lisbon (Captain Ellenwood of Beverley) and arrived at Lisbon in eight days. We took in a cargo of salt, and sailed for Beverley, where we arrived the ninth of May, 1783. Being now only fifteen miles from home, I immediately set out for Cape Ann, went to my father’s house, and had an agreeable meeting with my friends, after an absence of almost six years.
“I then boarded a brig headed for Lisbon (Captain Ellenwood from Beverley) and got to Lisbon in eight days. We loaded up with salt and set sail for Beverley, where we arrived on May 9, 1783. Now just fifteen miles from home, I immediately headed to Cape Ann, went to my dad’s house, and had a great reunion with my friends after being away for almost six years."
“John Blatchford
John Blatchford
“New London, May 10th, 1788.
New London, May 10, 1788.
“N. B. Those who are acquainted with the narrator will not scruple to give full credence to the foregoing account, and others may satisfy themselves by conversing with him. The scars he carries are a proof of his narrative, and a gentleman of New London who was several months with him, was acquainted with part of his sufferings, though it was out of his power to relieve him. He is a poor man with a wife and two children. His employment is fishing and coasting. Editor.”
“N. B. Those who know the narrator won’t hesitate to believe his story, and others can verify it by talking to him. The scars he has are proof of his tale, and a gentleman from New London who spent several months with him was aware of some of his struggles, even though he couldn’t help him. He is a poor man with a wife and two kids. He works in fishing and coastal trade. Editor.”
Our readers may be interested to know what became of John Blatchford, who wrote, or dictated, the narrative we have given, in the year 1788. He was, at that time, a married man. He had married a young woman named Ann Grover. He entered the merchant marine, and died at Port au Prince about the year 1794, when nearly thirty-three years of age. Thus early closed the career of a brave man, who had experienced much hardship, and had suffered greatly from man’s inhumanity to man, and who is, as far as we know, the only American prisoner sent to the East Indies who ever returned to tell the story of the barbarities inflicted upon him.
Our readers might be curious about what happened to John Blatchford, who wrote or dictated the narrative we’ve shared in 1788. At that time, he was a married man. He had tied the knot with a young woman named Ann Grover. He joined the merchant marine and died in Port au Prince around 1794, at nearly thirty-three years old. Thus ended the life of a brave man who faced many hardships and suffered greatly from humanity’s cruelty, and who is, as far as we know, the only American prisoner sent to the East Indies who ever returned to share the story of the barbarities he endured.
CHAPTER XVII. — BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AND OTHERS ON THE SUBJECT OF AMERICAN PRISONERS
When Benjamin Franklin and Silas Deane were in Paris they wrote the following letter to Lord Stormont, the English Ambassador to France.
When Benjamin Franklin and Silas Deane were in Paris, they wrote the following letter to Lord Stormont, the British Ambassador to France.
Paris, April 2nd, 1777.
Paris, April 2, 1777.
My Lord:—
My Lord:—
We did ourselves the honor of writing some time since to your Lordship on the subject of exchanging prisoners: you did not condescend to give us any answer, and therefore we expect none to this. We, however, take the liberty of sending you copies of certain depositions which we shall transmit to Congress, whereby it will be known to your Court, that the United States are not unacquainted with the barbarous treatment their people receive when they have the misfortune to be your prisoners here in Europe, and that if your conduct towards us is not altered, it is not unlikely that severe reprisals may be thought justifiable from a necessity of putting some check to such abominable practices. For the sake of humanity it is to be wished that men would endeavor to alleviate the unavoidable miseries attending a state of war. It has been said that among the civilized nations of Europe the ancient horrors of that state are much diminished; but the compelling men by chains, stripes, and famine to fight against their friends and relatives, is a new mode of barbarity, which your nation alone has the honor of inventing, and the sending American prisoners of war to Africa and Asia, remote from all probability of exchange, and where they can scarce hope ever to hear from their families, even if the unwholesomeness of the climate does not put a speedy end to their lives, is a manner of treating captives that you can justify by no other precedent or custom except that of the black savages of Guinea. We are your Lordship’s most obedient, humble servants, Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane.
We took the liberty of writing to you some time ago about exchanging prisoners, but you didn’t bother to reply, so we don’t expect one now. Still, we’re sending you copies of certain statements that we’ll share with Congress, showing your Court that the United States is aware of the cruel treatment our people endure when they become your prisoners here in Europe. If your behavior towards us doesn’t change, it’s possible that serious retaliation might be considered necessary to stop such terrible actions. For the sake of humanity, we hope that people would try to lessen the inevitable suffering that comes with war. It has been said that among the civilized nations of Europe, the ancient horrors of war have diminished considerably; however, forcing people into chains, whipping them, and starving them to fight against their friends and family is a new level of brutality that your nation alone has the shame of creating. Additionally, sending American prisoners of war to Africa and Asia, far from any chance of exchange, where they can hardly expect to hear from their families and where the unhealthy climate might quickly end their lives, is a way of treating captives that you can only justify by comparing it to the behavior of the black savages of Guinea. We remain your Lordship’s most obedient, humble servants, Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane.
The reply to this letter was laconic.
The response to this letter was brief.
“The King’s Ambassador recognizes no letters from Rebels, except when they come to ask mercy.”
“The King’s Ambassador doesn’t acknowledge any messages from Rebels, except when they come to plead for mercy.”
Inclosed in the letter from our representatives were the following depositions.
Included in the letter from our representatives were the following depositions.
THE DEPOSITION OF ELIPHALET DOWNER
THE DEPOSITION OF ELIPHALET DOWNER
Eliphalet Downer, Surgeon, taken in the Yankee privateer, testifies that after he was made prisoner by Captains Ross and Hodge, who took advantage of the generous conduct of Captain Johnson of the Yankee to them his prisoners, and of the confidence he placed in them in consequence of that conduct and their assurances; he and his countrymen were closely confined, yet assured that on their arrival in port they should be set at liberty, and these assurances were repeated in the most solemn manner, instead of which they were, on their approach to land, in the hot weather of August, shut up in a small cabin; the windows of which were spiked down and no air admitted, insomuch that they were all in danger of suffocation from the excessive heat.
Eliphalet Downer, Surgeon, captured by the Yankee privateer, states that after he was taken prisoner by Captains Ross and Hodge, who exploited Captain Johnson's kind treatment of them as prisoners and the trust he had in them due to that treatment and their promises; he and his fellow countrymen were tightly confined, yet promised that once they reached port, they would be released. These promises were made in the most serious manner. However, instead of being freed, they were, as they approached land in the sweltering heat of August, locked in a small cabin; the windows were nailed shut, preventing any airflow, putting them all at risk of suffocation from the intense heat.
Three or four days after their arrival in the river Thames they were relieved from this situation in the middle of the night, hurried on board a tender and sent down to Sheerness, where the deponent was put into the Ardent, and there falling sick of a violent fever in consequence of such treatment, and languishing in that situation for some time, he was removed, still sick, to the Mars, and notwithstanding repeated petitions to be suffered to be sent to prison on shore, he was detained until having the appearance of a mortification in his legs, he was sent to Haslar hospital, from whence after recovering his health, he had the good fortune to make his escape.
Three or four days after they arrived at the River Thames, they were taken out of this situation in the middle of the night, rushed on board a small boat, and sent to Sheerness. There, the witness was placed in the Ardent, and after becoming seriously ill with a raging fever due to the treatment, he struggled in that condition for a while. He was then moved, still unwell, to the Mars, and despite repeatedly asking to be sent to a prison on land, he was kept there until he showed signs of tissue death in his legs, at which point he was sent to Haslar hospital. After recovering his health there, he was fortunate enough to escape.
While on board those ships and in the hospital he was informed and believes that many of his countrymen, after experiencing even worse treatment than he, were sent to the East Indies, and many of those taken at Quebec were sent to the coast of Africa, as soldiers.
While he was on those ships and in the hospital, he learned and believes that many of his fellow countrymen, after enduring even harsher treatment than he did, were sent to the East Indies, and many of those captured at Quebec were sent to the coast of Africa as soldiers.
THE DEPOSITION OF CAPTAIN SETH CLARK OF NEWBURY PORT IN THE STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY IN AMERICA
THE DEPOSITION OF CAPTAIN SETH CLARK OF NEWBURY PORT IN THE STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY IN AMERICA
“This deponent saith that on his return from Cape Nichola Mole to Newbury Port, he was taken on the 17th of September last by an armed schooner in his British Majesty’s service, —— Coats, Esquire, Commander, and carried down to Jamaica, on his arrival at which place he was sent on board the Squirrel, another armed vessel, —— Douglas, Esquire, Commander, where, although master and half owner of the vessel in which he was taken, he was returned as a common sailor before the mast, and in that situation sailed for England in the month of November, on the twenty-fifth of which month they took a schooner from Port a Pie to Charlestown, S. C., to which place she belonged, when the owner, Mr. Burt, and the master, Mr. Bean, were brought on board. On the latter’s denying he had any ship papers Captain Douglas ordered him to be stripped and tied up and then whipped with a wire cat of nine tails that drew blood every stroke and then on his saying that he had thrown his papers overboard he was untied and ordered to his duty as a common sailor, with no place for himself or his people to lay on but the decks. On their arrival at Spithead, the deponent was removed to the Monarch, and there ordered to do duty as a fore-mast-man, and on his refusing on account of inability to do it, he was threatened by the Lieutenant, a Mr. Stoney, that if he spoke one word to the contrary he should be brought to the gangway, and there severely flogged.
“This deponent states that on his return from Cape Nichola Mole to Newbury Port, he was captured on the 17th of September last by an armed schooner in the service of his British Majesty, commanded by Mr. Coats, and taken down to Jamaica. Upon arriving there, he was transferred aboard the Squirrel, another armed vessel commanded by Mr. Douglas, where, despite being the master and half owner of the vessel in which he was captured, he was listed as a common sailor before the mast. In this situation, he sailed for England in November. On the twenty-fifth of that month, they captured a schooner from Port a Pie to Charlestown, S.C., where she belonged, and both the owner, Mr. Burt, and the captain, Mr. Bean, were brought on board. When Mr. Bean denied having any ship papers, Captain Douglas ordered him to be stripped and tied up, then whipped with a wire cat o' nine tails, which drew blood with every strike. After Mr. Bean claimed he had thrown his papers overboard, he was untied and ordered to carry out his duties as a common sailor, with no space for himself or his crew to rest other than on the decks. Upon their arrival at Spithead, the deponent was moved to the Monarch and instructed to serve as a fore-mast-man. When he refused due to his inability, Lieutenant Stoney threatened him that if he said another word against it, he would be taken to the gangway and severely flogged.”
“After this he was again removed and put on board the Bar-fleur, where he remained until the tenth of February. On board this ship the deponent saw several American prisoners, who were closely confined and ironed, with only four men’s allowance to six. These prisoners and others informed this deponent that a number of American prisoners had been taken out of the ship and sent to the East Indies and the coast of Africa, which he has told would have been his fate, had he arrived sooner.
“After that, he was moved again and placed on the Bar-fleur, where he stayed until February 10th. On this ship, the witness saw several American prisoners who were tightly confined and in chains, with only four rations for every six men. These prisoners and others told the witness that many American prisoners had been removed from the ship and sent to the East Indies and the coast of Africa, which he said would have been his outcome if he had arrived sooner.”
“This deponent further saith, That in Haslar hospital, to which place on account of sickness he was removed from the Bar-fleur, he saw a Captain Chase of Providence, New England, who told him he had been taken in a sloop of which he was half owner and master, on his passage from Providence to South Carolina, by an English transport, and turned over to a ship of war, where he was confined in irons thirteen weeks, insulted, beat, and abused by the petty officers and common sailors, and on being released from irons was ordered to do duty as a foremost man until his arrival in England, when being dangerously ill he was sent to said hospital.”
“This witness also says that at Haslar Hospital, where he was moved due to illness from the Bar-fleur, he saw a Captain Chase from Providence, New England. Captain Chase told him that he had been captured in a sloop, of which he was half owner and captain, while traveling from Providence to South Carolina by an English transport. He was then transferred to a warship, where he was held in chains for thirteen weeks, insulted, beaten, and mistreated by the petty officers and common sailors. After being released from chains, he was ordered to work as a deckhand until he arrived in England, where, being seriously ill, he was sent to that hospital.”
Paris March 30th. 1777.
Paris, March 30, 1777.
Benjamin Franklin, in a letter written in 1780, to a Mr. Hartley, an English gentleman who was opposed to the war, said that Congress had investigated the cruelties perpetrated by the English upon their defenceless prisoners, and had instructed him to prepare a school book for the use of American children, to be illustrated by thirty-five good engravings, each to picture some scene of horror, some enormity of suffering, such as should indelibly impress upon the minds of the school children a dread of British rule, and a hatred of British malice and wickedness!
Benjamin Franklin, in a letter written in 1780 to Mr. Hartley, an English gentleman opposed to the war, mentioned that Congress had looked into the brutalities inflicted by the English on their defenseless prisoners. They had instructed him to create a school book for American children, featuring thirty-five illustrations. Each illustration would depict a scene of horror or extreme suffering, aiming to leave a lasting impression on the children’s minds, instilling a fear of British rule and a hatred of British cruelty and wickedness!
The old philosopher did not accomplish this task: had he done so it is improbable that we would have so long remained in ignorance of some of the facts which we are now endeavoring to collect. It will be pleasant to glance, for a moment, on the other side the subject. It is well known that there was a large party in England, who, like Benjamin Franklin’s correspondent, were opposed to the war; men of humanity, fair-minded enough to sympathize with the struggles of an oppressed people, of the same blood as themselves.
The old philosopher didn’t complete this task: if he had, it’s unlikely we would have stayed in the dark about some of the facts we’re now trying to gather. It will be nice to take a quick look at the other side of the issue. It’s well known that there was a significant group in England who, like Benjamin Franklin’s correspondent, were against the war; compassionate people who could empathize with the struggles of an oppressed population, of the same heritage as themselves.
“The Prisoners of 1776, A Relic of the Revolution,” is a little book edited by the Rev. R. Livesey, and published in Boston, in 1854. The facts in this volume were complied from the journal of Charles Herbert of Newburyport, Mass. This young man was taken prisoner in December, 1776. He was a sailor on board the brigantine Dolton. He and his companions were confined in the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, England.
“The Prisoners of 1776, A Relic of the Revolution,” is a small book edited by Rev. R. Livesey and published in Boston in 1854. The information in this volume was gathered from the journal of Charles Herbert from Newburyport, Mass. This young man was captured in December 1776. He was a sailor on the brigantine Dolton. He and his fellow prisoners were held at the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, England.
Herbert, who was in his nineteenth year, was a prisoner more than two years. He managed to keep a journal during his captivity, and has left us an account of his treatment by the English which is a pleasant relief in its contrast to the dark pictures that we have drawn of the wretchedness of American prisoners elsewhere. A collection of upwards of $30,000 was taken up in England for the relief of our prisoners confined in English jails.
Herbert, who was 19, had been a prisoner for over two years. He managed to keep a journal during his time in captivity and has given us an account of how the English treated him, which is a welcome change from the grim stories we've heard about the suffering of American prisoners elsewhere. More than $30,000 was raised in England to help our prisoners locked up in English jails.
Herbert secreted his journal in a chest which had a false bottom. It is too long to give in its entirety, but we have made a few extracts which will describe the treatment the men received in England, where all that was done was open to public inspection, and where no such inhuman monsters as Cunningham were suffered to work their evil will upon their victims.
Herbert hid his journal in a chest with a false bottom. It’s too lengthy to share in full, but we’ve included a few excerpts that will detail the treatment the men received in England, where everything that happened was available for public review, and where no inhumane monsters like Cunningham were allowed to carry out their cruel intentions on their victims.
“Dec. 24th, 1776. We were taken by the Reasonable, man-of-war of 64 guns. I put on two shirts, pair of drawers and breeches, and trousers over them, two or three jackets, and a pair of new shoes, and then filled my bosom and pockets as full as I could carry. Nothing but a few old rags and twelve old blankets were sent to us. Ordered down to the cable tier. Almost suffocated. Nothing but the bare cable to lie on, and that very uneven.
“Dec. 24th, 1776. We were captured by the Reasonable, a warship with 64 guns. I put on two shirts, a pair of drawers and breeches, and trousers over them, two or three jackets, and a pair of new shoes, and then stuffed my shirt and pockets as full as I could. All we got were a few old rags and twelve old blankets. We were ordered down to the cable tier. I could barely breathe. There was nothing but the bare cable to lie on, and it was very uneven.”
“Jan. 15, 1777. We hear that the British forces have taken Fort Washington with a loss of 800.”
“Jan. 15, 1777. We’ve heard that the British forces have captured Fort Washington with a loss of 800.”
After several changes Herbert was put on board the Tarbay, a ship of 74 guns, and confined between decks, with not room for all to lie down at once.
After several changes, Herbert was placed on the Tarbay, a 74-gun ship, and kept between decks, with not enough space for everyone to lie down at the same time.
“Very cold. Have to lie on a wet deck without blankets. Some obliged to sit up all night.”
“It's freezing. We have to lie on a wet deck without any blankets. Some people are forced to stay up all night.”
On the 18th of February they received flock beds and pillows, rugs, and blankets. “Ours are a great comfort to us after laying fifty-five nights without any, all the time since we were taken. * * *
On February 18th, they received flock beds and pillows, rugs, and blankets. “These are a huge comfort to us after spending fifty-five nights without any, ever since we were taken. * * *
“We are told that the Captain of this ship, whose name is Royer, gave us these clothes and beds out of his own pocket.”
“We’ve been informed that the Captain of this ship, named Royer, provided us with these clothes and beds from his own funds.”
On the twelfth of April he was carried on shore to the hospital, where his daily allowance was a pound of beef, a pound of potatoes, and three pints of beer.
On April 12th, he was taken ashore to the hospital, where his daily ration consisted of a pound of beef, a pound of potatoes, and three pints of beer.
On the 7th of May he writes: “I now have a pound of bread, half a pound of mutton and a quart of beer daily. The doctor is very kind. Three of our company have died.”
On May 7th, he writes: “I now have a pound of bread, half a pound of mutton, and a quart of beer every day. The doctor is very kind. Three of our group have died.”
On the fifth of June he was committed to the Old Mill Prison at Plymouth. Many entries in his journal record the escapes of his companions. “Captain Brown made his escape.” “William Woodward of the charming Sallie escaped, etc., etc.”
On June 5th, he was sent to the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth. Many entries in his journal note the escapes of his fellow inmates. “Captain Brown made his escape.” “William Woodward of the lovely Sallie escaped, etc., etc.”
June 6th he records: “Our allowance here in prison is a pound of beef, a pound of greens, and a quart of beer, and a little pot liquor that the greens and beef were boiled in, without any thickening.” Still he declares that he has “a continued gnawing in his stomach.” The people of the neighborhood came to see them daily when they were exercising in the prison yard, and sometimes gave them money and provisions through the pickets of the high fence that surrounded the prison grounds. Herbert had a mechanical turn, and made boxes which he sold to these visitors, procuring himself many comforts in this manner.
June 6th he notes: “Our allowance here in prison is a pound of beef, a pound of greens, a quart of beer, and a little pot liquor from the greens and beef that were boiled, without any thickening.” Still, he states that he has “a constant gnawing in his stomach.” People from the neighborhood came to see them daily while they were exercising in the prison yard and sometimes handed them money and food through the picket holes in the tall fence surrounding the prison grounds. Herbert had a knack for mechanics and made boxes that he sold to these visitors, allowing him to obtain many comforts this way.
About ten prisoners were brought in daily. They were constantly digging their way out and were sometimes recaptured, but a great number made their escape. On the twentieth of July he records that they begin to make a breach in the prison wall. “Their intention is to dig eighteen feet underground to get into a field on the other side of the wall.
About ten prisoners were brought in every day. They were always trying to dig their way out and were sometimes caught again, but many managed to escape. On July 20th, he noted that they started to make a hole in the prison wall. “Their plan is to dig eighteen feet underground to reach a field on the other side of the wall."
“We put all the dirt in our chests.”
“We put all the dirt in our chests.”
August third he says: “There are 173 prisoners in the wards. On the fifth thirty-two escaped, but three were brought back. These were confined in the Black Hole forty days on half allowance, and obliged to lie on the bare floor.
August third he says: “There are 173 prisoners in the wards. On the fifth, thirty-two escaped, but three were brought back. These were held in the Black Hole for forty days on half rations and forced to lie on the bare floor.
“September 12th. We had a paper wherein was a melancholy account of the barbarous treatment of American prisoners, taken at Ticonderoga.
“September 12th. We had a report that included a sad account of the brutal treatment of American prisoners taken at Ticonderoga.
“Sept. 16th. Today about twenty old countrymen petitioned the Board for permission to go on board His Majesty’s ships.
“Sept. 16th. Today, around twenty old countrymen asked the Board for permission to go on board His Majesty’s ships.”
“Jan. 7th. 1778. 289 prisoners here in Plymouth. In Portsmouth there are 140 prisoners. Today the prison was smoked with charcoal and brim-stone.”
“Jan. 7th. 1778. There are 289 prisoners here in Plymouth. In Portsmouth, there are 140 prisoners. Today, they smoked the prison with charcoal and sulfur.”
He records the gift of clothes, blankets, and all sorts of provisions. They were allowed to wash at the pump in relays of six. Tobacco and everything necessary was freely given them.
He notes the donation of clothes, blankets, and all kinds of supplies. They were permitted to wash at the pump in groups of six. Tobacco and everything they needed were generously provided to them.
“Jan. 27th. The officers in a separate prison are allowed to burn candles in the evening until gun-fire, which is eight o’clock.
“Jan. 27th. The officers in a separate prison are allowed to burn candles in the evening until the gunfire, which is at eight o’clock.
“28th. Today some new washing troughs were brought up for us to wash our clothes in; and now we have plenty of clothes, soap, water, and tubs to wash in. In general we are tolerably clean.
“28th. Today, we got some new washing troughs to clean our clothes; now we have plenty of clothes, soap, water, and tubs to wash in. Overall, we're doing pretty well in terms of cleanliness.”
“Feb. 1st. Sunday. Last evening between 7 and 9 o’clock five of the officers in a separate prison, who had agreed with the sentry to let them go, made their escape and took two sentries with them. The five officers were Captain Henry Johnston, Captain Eleazar Johnston, Offin Boardman, Samuel Treadwell, and one Mr. Deal.
“Feb. 1st. Sunday. Last night between 7 and 9 o’clock, five officers in a separate prison, who had made a deal with the guard to let them go, managed to escape and took two guards with them. The five officers were Captain Henry Johnston, Captain Eleazar Johnston, Offin Boardman, Samuel Treadwell, and a Mr. Deal.
“Feb. 8th. Sunday. We have the paper wherein is an account of a letter from Dr. Franklin, Dean, and Lee, to Lord North, and to the ministry, putting them in mind of the abuse which the prisoners have had from time to time, and giving them to know that it is in the power of the Americans to make ample retaliation. * * * We learn that their answer was that in America there was an exchange.”
“Feb. 8th. Sunday. We have the paper containing a report about a letter from Dr. Franklin, Dean, and Lee to Lord North and the ministry, reminding them of the mistreatment the prisoners have faced over time, and letting them know that the Americans have the ability to retaliate significantly. * * * We learn that their response was that there was an exchange in America.”
On the 9th of March he writes: “We are all strong, fat and hearty.
On March 9th, he writes: “We are all strong, fit, and doing well.
“March 12th. Today our two fathers came to see us as they generally do once or twice a week. They are Mr. Heath, and Mr. Sorry, the former a Presbyterian minister, in Dock, the latter a merchant in Plymouth. They are the two agents appointed by the Committee in London to supply us with necessaries. A smile from them seems like a smile from a father. They tell us that everything goes well on our side.
“March 12th. Today our two fathers came to see us like they usually do once or twice a week. They are Mr. Heath and Mr. Sorry, the former a Presbyterian minister in Dock, the latter a merchant in Plymouth. They are the two representatives appointed by the Committee in London to provide us with supplies. A smile from them feels like a smile from a dad. They tell us that everything is going well on our side.”
“April 7th. Today the latter (Mr. Sorry) came to see us, and we desired him, for the future, to send us a four penny white loaf instead of a six-penny one to each mess, per day, for we have more provision than many of us want to eat, and any person can easily conjecture that prisoners, in our situation, who have suffered so much for the want of provisions would abhor such an act as to waste what we have suffered so much for the want of.”
“April 7th. Today Mr. Sorry came to see us, and we asked him to send us a four-penny white loaf instead of a six-penny one for each mess, per day, from now on. We have more provisions than many of us want to eat, and anyone can easily guess that prisoners like us, who have suffered so much due to lack of food, would hate to waste what we’ve struggled so hard to obtain.”
Herbert was liberated at the end of two years. Enough has been quoted to prove the humanity with which the prisoners at Plymouth were treated. He gives a valuable list of crews in Old Mill Prison, Plymouth, during the time of his incarceration, with the names of captains, number that escaped, those who died, and those who joined the English.
Herbert was freed after two years. Enough has been cited to demonstrate the compassion with which the prisoners at Plymouth were treated. He provides a valuable list of crews in Old Mill Prison, Plymouth, during his imprisonment, including the names of captains, the number who escaped, those who died, and those who joined the English.
Joined
NAMES OF SHIPS AND CAPTAINS No. of British
Men Escaped Died Ships
Brig Dolton, Capt. Johnston 120 21 8 7
Sloop Charming Sally, Capt. Brown. 52 6 7 16
Brig Fancy, Capt. Lee 56 11 2 0
Brig Lexington, Capt. Johnston 51 6 1 26
Schooner Warren, Capt. Ravel 40 2 0 6
PARTS OF CREWS TAKEN INTO PLYMOUTH
Brig Freedom, Capt. Euston 11 3 1 0
Ship Reprisal, Capt. Weeks 10 2 0 3
Sloop Hawk 6 0 0 0
Schooner Hawk, Capt. Hibbert 6 0 0 0
Schooner Black Snake, Capt. Lucran 3 1 0 0
Ship Oliver Cromwell 7 1 0 4
Letter of Marque Janey, Capt. Rollo 2 1 0 0
Brig Cabot 3 0 0 0
True Blue, Capt. Furlong 1 0 0 0
Ranger 1 0 0 0
Sloop Lucretia 2 0 0 0
Musquito Tender 1 0 0 1
Schooner, Capt. Burnell 2 1 0 1
Sturdy Beggar 3 0 0 0
Revenge, Capt Cunningham 3 0 0 0
Total 380 55 19 62
Remained in Prison until exchanged, 244
Joined
NAMES OF SHIPS AND CAPTAINS No. of British
Men Escaped Died Ships
Brig Dolton, Capt. Johnston 120 21 8 7
Sloop Charming Sally, Capt. Brown. 52 6 7 16
Brig Fancy, Capt. Lee 56 11 2 0
Brig Lexington, Capt. Johnston 51 6 1 26
Schooner Warren, Capt. Ravel 40 2 0 6
PARTS OF CREWS TAKEN INTO PLYMOUTH
Brig Freedom, Capt. Euston 11 3 1 0
Ship Reprisal, Capt. Weeks 10 2 0 3
Sloop Hawk 6 0 0 0
Schooner Hawk, Capt. Hibbert 6 0 0 0
Schooner Black Snake, Capt. Lucran 3 1 0 0
Ship Oliver Cromwell 7 1 0 4
Letter of Marque Janey, Capt. Rollo 2 1 0 0
Brig Cabot 3 0 0 0
True Blue, Capt. Furlong 1 0 0 0
Ranger 1 0 0 0
Sloop Lucretia 2 0 0 0
Musquito Tender 1 0 0 1
Schooner, Capt. Burnell 2 1 0 1
Sturdy Beggar 3 0 0 0
Revenge, Capt Cunningham 3 0 0 0
Total 380 55 19 62
Remained in Prison until exchanged, 244Before we leave the subject of Plymouth we must record the fact that some time in the year 1779 a prize was brought into the harbor captured from the French with 80 French prisoners. The English crew put in charge of the prize procured liquor, and, in company of some of the loose women of the town, went below to make a night of it. In the dead of night the Frenchmen seized the ship, secured the hatches, cut the cable, took her out of port, homeward bound, and escaped.
Before we move on from the topic of Plymouth, we need to mention that sometime in 1779, a prize ship captured from the French came into the harbor with 80 French prisoners aboard. The English crew assigned to the prize got some drinks and, along with a few of the local women, went below deck to enjoy the night. In the dead of night, the French prisoners took control of the ship, secured the hatches, cut the cable, sailed it out of port, and headed home, managing to escape.
A writer in the London Gazette in a letter to the Lord Mayor, dated August 6th, 1776, says: “I was last week on board the American privateer called the Yankee, commanded by Captain Johnson, and lately brought into this port by Captain Ross, who commanded one of the West India sugar ships, taken by the privateer in July last: and as an Englishman I earnestly wish your Lordship, who is so happily placed at the head of this great city (justly famed for its great humanity even to its enemies), would be pleased to go likewise, or send proper persons, to see the truly shocking and I may say barbarous and miserable condition of the unfortunate American prisoners, who, however criminal they may be thought to have been, are deserving of pity, and entitled to common humanity.
A writer in the London Gazette in a letter to the Lord Mayor, dated August 6th, 1776, says: “Last week, I was on board the American privateer called the Yankee, commanded by Captain Johnson, which was recently brought into this port by Captain Ross, who was in charge of one of the West India sugar ships captured by the privateer last July. As an Englishman, I sincerely hope your Lordship, who is so fortunate to lead this great city (rightly known for its humanity even towards its enemies), would consider going or sending appropriate individuals to witness the truly shocking, and I might even say barbaric and miserable condition of the unfortunate American prisoners, who, no matter how criminal they may be perceived, deserve compassion and are entitled to basic humanity.”
“They are twenty-five in number, and all inhumanly shut close down, like wild beasts, in a small stinking apartment, in the hold of a sloop, about seventy tons burden, without a breath of air, in this sultry season, but what they receive from a small grating overhead, the openings in which are not more than two inches square in any part, and through which the sun beats intensely hot all day, only two or three being permitted to come on deck at a time; and then they are exposed in the open sun, which is reflected from the decks like a burning glass.
“They are twenty-five in total, all locked away like wild animals in a cramped, foul-smelling apartment in the hold of a small sloop, around seventy tons in weight, with no fresh air during this sweltering season, except for what comes through a tiny grating overhead. The openings are no more than two inches square at any point, with the intense heat of the sun beating down on them all day. Only two or three are allowed on deck at a time, and when they do go up, they are exposed to the harsh sunlight, which reflects off the decks like a magnifying glass.”
“I do not at all exaggerate, my lord, I speak the truth, and the resemblance that this barbarity bears to the memorable Black Hole at Calcutta, as a gentleman present on Saturday observed, strikes every eye at the sight. All England ought to know that the same game is now acting upon the Thames on board this privateer, that all the world cried out against, and shuddered at the mention of in India, some years ago, as practised on Captain Hollowell and other of the King’s good subjects. The putrid steams issuing from the hold are so hot and offensive that one cannot, without the utmost danger, breathe over it, and I should not be at all surprised if it should cause a plague to spread.
“I’m not exaggerating at all, my lord; I’m speaking the truth, and the similarity this cruelty has to the infamous Black Hole in Calcutta, as a gentleman noted on Saturday, is obvious to everyone who sees it. All of England should know that the same horrors are happening on the Thames aboard this privateer, just like everyone condemned and shuddered at when it happened to Captain Hollowell and other loyal subjects of the King in India a few years ago. The foul fumes coming from the hold are so hot and repulsive that it’s extremely dangerous to breathe near them, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this causes a plague to outbreak.
“The miserable wretches below look like persons in a hot bath, panting, sweating, and fainting, for want of air; and the surgeon declares that they must all soon perish in this situation, especially as they are almost all in a sickly state from bilious disorders.
“The miserable wretches below look like people in a hot bath, gasping, sweating, and feeling faint from lack of air; and the doctor says that they’re all going to die soon if things don't change, especially since they’re nearly all sick from bile problems."
“The captain and surgeon, it is true, have the liberty of the cabin (if it deserves the name of a cabin), and make no complaints on their own account. They are both sensible and well behaved young men, and can give a very good account of themselves, having no signs of fear, and being supported by a consciousness of the justice of their cause.
“The captain and surgeon do have access to the cabin (if you can call it that), and they don't complain about their situation. They are both sensible and well-mannered young men, and they can explain themselves very well, showing no signs of fear, as they're confident in the righteousness of their cause.”
“They are men of character, of good families in New England, and highly respected in their different occupations; but being stripped of their all by the burning of towns, and other destructive measures of the present unnatural war, were forced to take the disagreeable method of making reprisals to maintain themselves and their children rather than starve. * * * English prisoners taken by the Americans have been treated with the most remarkable tenderness and generosity, as numbers who are safely returned to England most freely confess, to the honor of our brethern in the colonies, and it is a fact, which can be well attested in London, that this very surgeon on board the privateer, after the battle of Lexington, April 19th, 1775, for many days voluntarily and generously without fee or reward employed himself in dressing the King’s wounded soldiers, who but an hour before would have shot him if they could have come at him, and in making a collection for their refreshment, of wine, linen, money, etc., in the town where he lived. * * * The capture of the privateer was, solely owing to the ill-judged lenity and brotherly kindness of Captain Johnson, who not considering his English prisoners in the same light that he would French or Spanish, put them under no sort of confinement, but permitted them to walk the decks as freely as his own people at all times. Taking advantage of this indulgence the prisoners one day watched their opportunity when most of the privateer’s people were below, and asleep, shut down the hatches, and making all fast, had immediate possession of the vessel without using any force.”
“They are men of integrity, from good families in New England, and held in high regard in their various professions. However, after losing everything due to the destruction of towns and other devastating actions of this unnatural war, they were compelled to resort to the unpleasant tactic of making reprisals to support themselves and their children rather than starve. * * * English prisoners captured by the Americans have been treated with remarkable kindness and generosity, as many who have safely returned to England openly acknowledge, to the credit of our brethren in the colonies. It is well attested in London that this very surgeon aboard the privateer, following the battle of Lexington on April 19th, 1775, voluntarily and generously spent several days caring for the wounded British soldiers, who only an hour earlier would have shot him given the chance, and he also organized a collection for their relief, gathering wine, linens, money, and so on in his hometown. * * * The capture of the privateer was entirely due to the misguided leniency and fraternal kindness of Captain Johnson, who, not viewing his English prisoners the same way he would regard French or Spanish ones, placed them under no confinement and allowed them to move about the decks as freely as his own crew. Taking advantage of this leniency, the prisoners one day seized the opportunity while most of the privateer's crew were below decks and asleep, shut the hatches, secured everything, and took full control of the vessel without any force.”
What the effect of this generous letter was we have no means of discovering. It displays the sentiments of a large party in England, who bitterly condemned the “unnatural war against the Colonies.”
What the impact of this generous letter was, we have no way of knowing. It shows the feelings of a significant group in England, who strongly criticized the “unnatural war against the Colonies.”
CHAPTER XVIII. — THE ADVENTURES OF ANDREW SHERBURNE
While we are on the subject of the treatment of American prisoners in England, which forms a most grateful contrast to that which they received in New York, Philadelphia, and other parts of America, we will give an abstract of the adventures of another young man who was confined in the Old Mill Prison at Plymouth, England. This young man was named Andrew Sherburne. He was born at Rye, New Hampshire, on the 3oth of September, 1765.
While we're on the topic of how American prisoners were treated in England, which is a huge relief compared to how they were treated in New York, Philadelphia, and other parts of America, let's share a summary of the experiences of another young man who was held in Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, England. This young man was named Andrew Sherburne. He was born in Rye, New Hampshire, on September 30, 1765.
He first served on the continental ship of war, Ranger, which shipped a crew at Portsmouth, N. H. His father consented that he should go with her, and his two half uncles, Timothy and James Weymouth, were on board. There were about forty boys in the crew. Andrew was then in his fourteenth year, and was employed as waiter to the boatswain. The vessel sailed in the month of June, 1779. She took ten prizes and sailed for home, where she arrived in August, 1779. Next year she sailed again on another cruise, but was taken prisoner by the British at Charleston, S. C., on the 12th of May, 1780.
He first served on the continental warship, Ranger, which gathered a crew in Portsmouth, N.H. His father agreed that he could go with her, and his two half-uncles, Timothy and James Weymouth, were on board. There were about forty boys in the crew. Andrew was just fourteen at the time and worked as a waiter for the boatswain. The ship set sail in June 1779. She captured ten prizes and returned home, arriving in August 1779. The following year, she set out again on another cruise but was captured by the British in Charleston, S.C., on May 12, 1780.
“Our officers,” says Sherburne, “were paroled and allowed to retain their waiters. We were for several days entirely destitute of provisions except muscles, which we gathered from the muscle beds. I was at this time waiter to Captain Pierce Powers, master’s mate of the Ranger. He treated me with the kindness of a father.”
“Our officers,” says Sherburne, “were released on parole and allowed to keep their waiters. For several days, we had nothing to eat except mussels, which we gathered from the beds. At that time, I was a waiter for Captain Pierce Powers, the master’s mate of the Ranger. He treated me with the kindness of a father.”
“At this time,” he continues, “Captain Simpson and the other officers procured a small vessel which was employed as a cartel, to transport the officers, their boys and baggage, agreeably to the terms of capitulation, to Newport, R. I. It being difficult to obtain suitable casks for water they procured such as they could. These proved to be foul, and after we got to sea our water became filthy and extremely noxious. Very few if any on board escaped an attack of the diarrhoea.”
“At this point,” he continues, “Captain Simpson and the other officers got a small boat that was used as a cartel to transport the officers, their men, and luggage, in line with the terms of surrender, to Newport, R. I. Since it was hard to find appropriate barrels for water, they got what they could. Unfortunately, these were contaminated, and once we were at sea, our water turned dirty and extremely unhealthy. Very few, if any, on board managed to avoid getting diarrhea.”
After his return he next shipped under Captain Wilds on the Greyhound, from Portsmouth, N. H., and at last, after many adventures, was taken prisoner by Newfoundlanders, off Newfoundland. He was then put on board the Fairy, a British sloop of war, commanded by Captain Yeo, “a complete tyrant” “Wilds and myself,” he continues, “were called to the quarter deck, and after having been asked a few questions by Captain Yeo, he turned to his officers and said: ‘They are a couple of fine lads for his Majesty’s service. Mr. Gray, see that they do their duty.’”
After he got back, he next signed on with Captain Wilds on the Greyhound, leaving from Portsmouth, N.H. After a lot of adventures, he was captured by Newfoundlanders off Newfoundland. He was then put on the Fairy, a British war sloop commanded by Captain Yeo, "a total tyrant." "Wilds and I," he continues, "were called to the quarterdeck, and after a few questions from Captain Yeo, he turned to his officers and said, 'They are a couple of fine lads for His Majesty’s service. Mr. Gray, make sure they do their duty.'"
When the sloop arrived in England the boys complained that they were prisoners of war, in consequence of which they were sent to the Old Mill Prison at Plymouth, accused of “rebellion, piracy, and high treason.”
When the sloop arrived in England, the boys complained that they were prisoners of war, which led to them being sent to the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, accused of “rebellion, piracy, and high treason.”
Here they found acquaintances from Portsmouth, N. H. The other prisoners were very kind to young Sherburne, gave him clothing and sent him to a school which was kept in the prison. Ship building and other arts were carried on in this place, and he learned navigation, which was of great service to him in after life.
Here they ran into people they knew from Portsmouth, N.H. The other prisoners were really nice to young Sherburne, gave him clothing, and sent him to a school located in the prison. Shipbuilding and other trades were done there, and he learned navigation, which was very useful to him later in life.
The fare, he declared, was tolerably good, but there was not enough of it. He amused himself by making little toy ships. He became ill and delirious, but recovered in time to be sent to America when a general exchange of prisoners was effected in 1781. The rest of his adventures has nothing to do with prisons, in England, and shall not now be detailed.
The food, he said, was decent, but there wasn't enough of it. He kept himself entertained by making small toy ships. He got sick and feverish, but got better just in time to be sent to America when a large prisoner exchange took place in 1781. The rest of his adventures have nothing to do with prisons in England, so I won't go into those details now.
Although the accounts of the English prisons left by Herbert, Sherburne and others are so favorable, yet it seems that, after the year 1780, there was some cause of complaint even there. We will quote a passage from the British Annual Register to prove this statement. This passage we take from the Register for 1781, page 152.
Although the reports on English prisons by Herbert, Sherburne, and others are quite positive, it seems that after 1780, there were still some complaints. We'll quote a section from the British Annual Register to support this claim. This excerpt is from the Register for 1781, page 152.
“A petition was presented to the House the same day (June 20th) by Mr. Fox, from the American prisoners in Mill Prison, Plymouth, setting forth that they were treated with less humanity than the French and Spanish, though by reason that they had no Agent established in this country for their protection, they were entitled to expect a larger share of indulgence than others. They had not a sufficient allowance of bread, and were very scantily furnished with clothing.
“A petition was presented to the House the same day (June 20th) by Mr. Fox, from the American prisoners in Mill Prison, Plymouth, stating that they were treated with less compassion than the French and Spanish. They claimed that since they didn't have an Agent in this country to advocate for them, they deserved even more consideration than others. They received inadequate rations of bread and were given very little clothing.”
“A similar petition was presented to the House of Peers by the Duke of Richmond, and these petitions occasioned considerable debate in both Houses. Several motions were grounded on these petitions, but to those proposed by the Lords and gentlemen in the opposition, were determined in the negative, and others to exculpate the Government in this business were resolved in the affirmative. It appeared upon inquiry, that the American prisoners were allowed a half pound of bread less per day than the French and Spanish prisoners. But the petitions of the Americans produced no alterations in their favor, and the conduct of the Administration was equally unpolitic and illiberal. The additional allowance, which was solicited on behalf of the prisoners, could be no object, either to Government or to the Nation, and it was certainly unwise, by treating American prisoners worse than those of France or Spain, to increase the fatal animosity which had unhappily taken place between the mother country and the Colonies, and this, too, at a period when the subjugation of the latter had become hopeless.”
“A similar petition was presented to the House of Peers by the Duke of Richmond, leading to significant debate in both Houses. Several motions were based on these petitions, but those proposed by the Lords and gentlemen in the opposition were voted down, while others aimed at clearing the Government of blame in this matter were approved. Upon investigation, it was found that American prisoners were given half a pound less bread per day than the French and Spanish prisoners. However, the American petitions resulted in no changes in their favor, and the actions of the Administration were equally unwise and unfair. The extra allowance requested for the prisoners was of no concern to either the Government or the Nation, and it was certainly unwise to treat American prisoners worse than those from France or Spain, thereby intensifying the already serious hostility that had unfortunately arisen between the mother country and the Colonies, especially at a time when the subjugation of the latter had become impossible.”
CHAPTER XIX. — MORE ABOUT THE ENGLISH PRISONS—MEMOIR OF ELI BICKFORD—CAPTAIN FANNING
Eli Bickford, who was born on the 29th of September, 1754, in the town of Durham, N. H., and enlisted on a privateer, was taken prisoner by the British, confined at first on the Old Jersey, and afterwards sent to England with many others, in a vessel commanded by Captain Smallcorn, whom he called “a sample of the smallest corn he had ever met.” While on board this vessel he was taken down with the smallpox. No beds or bedding were provided for the prisoners and a plank on deck was his only pillow. He and his fellow sufferers were treated with great severity, and insulted at every turn. When they reached England they were sent to prison, where he remained in close confinement for four years and six months.
Eli Bickford, born on September 29, 1754, in Durham, N.H., enlisted on a privateer, was captured by the British, initially confined on the Old Jersey, and later sent to England with many others on a ship captained by Captain Smallcorn, whom he referred to as “a sample of the smallest corn he had ever met.” While aboard this ship, he contracted smallpox. No beds or bedding were provided for the prisoners, and a plank on deck served as his only pillow. He and his fellow captives faced harsh treatment and constant insults. Upon arriving in England, they were imprisoned, where he spent four years and six months in close confinement.
Finding a piece of a door hinge, he and some of the others endeavored to make their escape by digging a passage under the walls. A report of their proceedings reached the jailer, but, secure in the strength of the walls he did not believe it. This jailor would frequently jest with Bickford on the subject, asking him when he intended to make his escape. His answers were so truthful and accurate that they served to blind the jailor still further. One morning as this official entered the prison he said: “Well, Bickford, how soon will you be ready to go out?”
Finding a piece of a door hinge, he and a few others tried to escape by digging a passage under the walls. News of their efforts got to the jailer, but he felt secure with the strength of the walls and didn't believe it. This jailer often joked with Bickford about it, asking when he planned to escape. Bickford's responses were so honest and precise that they only deceived the jailer even more. One morning, as the jailer came into the prison, he said, “Well, Bickford, how soon will you be ready to get out?”
“Tomorrow night!” answered Bickford.
"Tomorrow night!" replied Bickford.
“O, that’s only some of your nonsense,” he replied.
“Oh, that’s just some of your nonsense,” he replied.
However, it was true.
But it was true.
After digging a passage for some days underground, the prisoners found themselves under an adjoining house. They proceeded to take up the brick floor, unlocked the door and passed out, without disturbing the inmates, who were all asleep. Unable to escape they concealed themselves for awhile, and then tamely gave themselves up. Such a vigilant watch was kept upon the house after they were missed from the prison, that they had no other choice. So they made a contract with a man who was to return them to the prison, and then give them half of the reward of forty shillings which was offered for their re-capture. So successful was this expedient that it was often put into operation when they needed money.
After digging a tunnel for several days, the prisoners found themselves under a neighboring house. They lifted the brick floor, unlocked the door, and slipped out without waking the people inside, who were all asleep. Unable to really escape, they hid for a while and then surrendered. A strict watch was kept on the house after their absence was noticed, leaving them no other option. So, they made a deal with a man who was supposed to take them back to prison and then give them half of the forty-shilling reward that was offered for their capture. This plan worked so well that they often used it whenever they needed money.
As a punishment for endeavoring to escape they were confined in the Black Hole for a week on bread and water.
As a punishment for trying to escape, they were locked up in the Black Hole for a week, only getting bread and water.
Bickford describes the prison regulations for preserving order which were made and carried out by the prisoners themselves. If a difficulty arose between two of them it was settled in the following manner. The prisoners formed a circle in the centre of which the disputants took their stand, and exchanged a few rounds of well-directed blows, after which they shook hands, and were better friends than before.
Bickford describes the prison rules for maintaining order that were created and enforced by the prisoners themselves. If a conflict arose between two of them, it was resolved in the following way. The prisoners would form a circle in which the two involved would stand and exchange a few rounds of well-aimed punches. After that, they would shake hands and end up being better friends than they were before.
Bickford was not released until peace was declared. He then returned to his family, who had long thought him dead. It was on Sunday morning that he reached his native town. As he passed the meeting house he was recognized, and the whole congregation ran out to see and greet him.
Bickford wasn't released until peace was announced. He then went back to his family, who had assumed he was dead for a long time. It was on Sunday morning when he arrived in his hometown. As he walked by the meeting house, people recognized him, and the entire congregation rushed outside to see and welcome him.
He had but seven dollars as his whole capital when he married. He moved to Vermont, where he farmed a small place, and succeeded in making a comfortable livelihood. He attained the great age of 101, and was one of the last surviving prisoners of the Revolution.
He had only seven dollars as his entire savings when he got married. He relocated to Vermont, where he farmed a small plot of land and managed to make a decent living. He lived to be 101 years old and was one of the last surviving prisoners from the Revolution.
THE ADVENTURES OF A NAVAL OFFICER
THE ADVENTURES OF A NAVAL OFFICER
In the year 1806 a little book with this title was published in New York, by Captain Nathaniel Fanning. It was dedicated to John Jackson, Esquire, the man who did so much to interest the public in the preservation and interment of the remains of the martyrs of the prisonships in the Wallabout.
In 1806, a small book with this title was published in New York by Captain Nathaniel Fanning. It was dedicated to John Jackson, Esquire, the person who did a lot to engage the public in preserving and burying the remains of the martyrs from the prison ships in the Wallabout.
Fanning was born in Connecticut, in the year 1755. On the 26th of May, 1778, he went on board the brig Angelica, commanded by Captain William Dennis, which was about to sail on a six months cruise. There were 98 men and boys in the crew, and Fanning was prize-master on board the privateer. She was captured by the Andromeda, a frigate of 28 guns, five days from Philadelphia, with General Howe on board on his way back to England.
Fanning was born in Connecticut in 1755. On May 26, 1778, he boarded the brig Angelica, commanded by Captain William Dennis, which was about to embark on a six-month cruise. There were 98 men and boys in the crew, and Fanning served as the prize-master on the privateer. She was captured by the Andromeda, a 28-gun frigate, five days out of Philadelphia, with General Howe on board as he was returning to England.
All the prisoners were paraded on deck and asked if they were willing to engage in his British Majesty’s service. Nearly all answered in the negative. They were then told that they were “a set of rebels,” and that it was more than probable that they would all be hung at Portsmouth.
All the prisoners were brought up on deck and asked if they were willing to serve in His Majesty's British forces. Nearly all of them said no. They were then informed that they were considered "a group of rebels," and it was very likely that they would all be hanged in Portsmouth.
Their baggage was then taken away, and they were confined in the hold of the ship. Their clothes were stolen by the sailors, and a frock and cheap trousers dealt out to each man in their place.
Their luggage was then taken away, and they were locked up in the ship's hold. The sailors stole their clothes and handed each man a dress and cheap pants instead.
The heat was intolerable in the hold, although they went naked. In this condition they plotted to seize the vessel, and procured some weapons through the agency of their surgeon. Spencer, the captain’s clerk, betrayed them to the captain of the Andromeda, and, after that, the hatches were barred down, and they began to think that they would all die of suffocation. The sentence pronounced upon them was that they should be allowed only half a pint of water a day for each man, and barely food enough to sustain life.
The heat was unbearable in the hold, even though they were naked. In this situation, they planned to take over the ship and got some weapons through their surgeon's help. Spencer, the captain’s clerk, snitched on them to the captain of the Andromeda, and after that, the hatches were locked tight, making them believe they would all suffocate. The punishment they received was that each man was limited to just half a pint of water a day, along with barely enough food to stay alive.
Their condition would have been terrible, but, fortunately for them, they were lodged upon the water casks, over which was constructed a temporary deck. By boring holes in the planks they managed, by means of a proof glass, to obtain all the water they needed.
Their situation would have been awful, but luckily for them, they were set up on the water casks, on top of which a temporary deck was built. By drilling holes in the planks, they were able to get all the water they needed using a proof glass.
Between them and the general’s store room was nothing but a partition of plank. They went to work to make an aperture through which a man could pass into this store room. A young man named Howard from Rhode Island was their instigator in all these operations. They discovered that one of the shifting boards abaft the pump room was loose, and that they could ship and unship it as they pleased. When it was unshipped there was just room for a man to crawl into the store room. “Howard first went in,” writes Captain Fanning, “and presently desired me to hand him a mug or can with a proof glass. A few minutes after he handed me back the same full, saying ‘My friends, as good Madeira wine as ever was drank at the table of an Emperor!’
Between them and the general’s storage room was just a wooden partition. They started working on creating an opening that a person could pass through into this storage room. A young guy named Howard from Rhode Island was the one who got them all motivated for this task. They found that one of the boards behind the pump room was loose and that they could easily take it on and off. When it was removed, there was just enough space for a person to crawl into the storage room. “Howard went in first,” writes Captain Fanning, “and soon asked me to pass him a mug or can with a proof glass. A few minutes later, he handed me back the same one, full, saying ‘My friends, as good Madeira wine as ever was drank at the table of an Emperor!’”
“I took it from his hands and drank about half a pint.
“I took it from his hands and drank about half a pint.
“Thus we lived like hearty fellows, taking care every night to secure provisions, dried fruit, and wines for the day following * * * and all without our enemies’ knowledge.”
“That's how we lived like good friends, making sure every night to stock up on food, dried fruit, and wine for the next day * * * and all without our enemies knowing.”
Scurvy broke out among the crew, and some of the British sailors died, but the Americans were all “brave and hearty.”
Scurvy spread among the crew, and some of the British sailors died, but the Americans were all “brave and hearty.”
“The Captain would say, ‘What! are none of them damned Yankees sick? Damn them, there’s nothing but thunder and lightning will kill ‘em.’” On the thirtieth of June the vessel arrived at Portsmouth. The prisoners were sent to Hazel hospital, to be examined by the Commissioners of the Admiralty, and then marched to Forton prison, where they were committed under the charges of piracy and high treason. This prison was about two miles from Portsmouth harbor, and consisted of two commodious buildings, with a yard between them large enough to parade a guard of 100 men, which was the number required to maintain law and order at the station.
“The Captain would say, ‘What! Are none of those damn Yankees sick? Damn them, there’s nothing but thunder and lightning that will take them out.’” On June 30th, the ship arrived at Portsmouth. The prisoners were sent to Hazel hospital to be examined by the Commissioners of the Admiralty and then marched to Forton prison, where they were held on charges of piracy and high treason. This prison was about two miles from Portsmouth harbor and consisted of two spacious buildings, with a yard between them large enough to hold a guard of 100 men, which was the number needed to maintain law and order at the station.
They also had a spacious lot of about three quarters of an acre in extent, adjoining the houses, in which they took their daily exercise. In the middle of this lot was a shed with seats. It was open on all sides. The lot was surrounded by a wall of iron pickets, eight feet in height. The agent for American prisoners was nicknamed by them “the old crab.” He was very old and ugly.
They had a large lot of about three-quarters of an acre next to the houses, where they exercised daily. In the middle of this lot was a shed with benches. It was open on all sides. The lot was enclosed by a wall of iron pickets, eight feet high. They nicknamed the agent for American prisoners “the old crab.” He was very old and unattractive.
Only three-fourths of the usual allowance to prisoners of war was dealt out to them, and they seem to have fared much worse than the inmates of the Old Mill Prison at Plymouth.
Only three-quarters of the usual allowance for prisoners of war was given to them, and they appear to have suffered much more than the inmates of the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth.
Captain Fanning declares that they were half starved, and would sometimes beg bones from the people who came to look at them. When they obtained bones they would dig out the marrow, and devour it. The guard was cruel and spiteful. One day they heated some pokers red hot and began to burn the prisoners’ shirts that were hung up to dry. These men begged the guard, in a very civil manner, not to burn all their shirts, as they had only one apiece. This remonstrance producing no effect they then ran to the pickets and snatched away their shirts. At this the officer on command ordered a sentinel to fire on them. This he did, killing one prisoner, and wounding several. There were three hundred American prisoners in the yard at this time.
Captain Fanning states that they were half-starved and would sometimes beg for bones from the people who came to see them. When they got bones, they would scoop out the marrow and eat it. The guard was cruel and vindictive. One day, they heated some pokers until they were red hot and started to burn the prisoners' shirts that were hanging out to dry. The men pleaded with the guard, very politely, not to burn all their shirts, since they each only had one. When this appeal fell on deaf ears, they ran to the pickets and grabbed their shirts back. In response, the officer in charge ordered a guard to fire on them. He did so, killing one prisoner and injuring several others. At that moment, there were three hundred American prisoners in the yard.
These prisons appear to have been very imperfectly guarded, and the regular occupation of the captives, whenever their guards were asleep or absent, was to make excavations for the purpose of escaping. A great many regained their freedom in this manner, though some were occasionally brought back and punished by being shut up for forty days in the Black Hole on bread and water. Some, less fortunate, remained three or four years in the prison.
These prisons seemed to be poorly guarded, and the usual activity of the inmates, whenever their guards were asleep or away, was to dig tunnels to escape. Many managed to regain their freedom this way, though some were sometimes recaptured and punished by being locked up for forty days in the Black Hole on just bread and water. Some, unfortunately, spent three or four years in the prison.
There was always digging going on in some part of the prison and as soon as one hole was discovered and plastered up, another would be begun. For a long time they concealed the dirt that they took out of these excavations in an old stack of disused chimneys. The hours for performing the work were between eleven and three o’clock at night. Early in the morning they ceased from their labors, concealing the hole they had made by pasting white paper over it.
There was always digging happening somewhere in the prison, and as soon as one hole was found and covered up, another would start. For a long time, they hid the dirt they dug out in an old pile of unused chimneys. They worked on it between eleven and three o’clock at night. Early in the morning, they would stop working, hiding the hole they had made by covering it with white paper.
There was a school kept constantly in the prison, where many of them had the first opportunity that had ever been granted them of receiving an education. Many learned to read and write, and became proficient in French.
There was a school permanently set up in the prison, where many of the inmates had their first chance ever to get an education. Many learned to read and write and became skilled in French.
At one time there were 367 officers confined in this place. In the course of twelve months 138 of them escaped and got safely to France. While some of the men were digging at night, others would be dancing to drown the noise. They had several violins, and seem to have been a reckless and jovial set.
At one point, there were 367 officers locked up in this place. Over the span of twelve months, 138 of them managed to escape and safely reach France. While some of the men were digging at night, others danced to mask the sound. They had several violins and appeared to be a carefree and cheerful group.
The officers bunked on the second floor over the guard room of the English officers. At times they would make so much noise that the guard would rush up the stairs, only to find all lights out and every man asleep and snoring in his hammock. They would relieve their feelings by a volley of abusive language and go down stairs again, when instantly the whole company would be on their feet, the violins would strike up, and the fun be more fast and furious than ever. These rushes of the guard would sometimes be repeated several times a night, when they would always find the prisoners in their hammocks. Each hammock had what was called a “king’s rug,” a straw bed, and pillow.
The officers slept on the second floor above the guard room of the English officers. Sometimes they were so loud that the guard would rush up the stairs, only to find all the lights off and every man asleep and snoring in his hammock. They would let off some steam with a barrage of insults and head back downstairs, at which point the whole company would spring to their feet, the violins would start playing, and the fun would get even more intense. These guard rushes would happen several times a night, and they would always find the prisoners in their hammocks. Each hammock had what was called a “king’s rug,” a straw mattress, and a pillow.
At one time several men were suddenly taken sick, with strong symptoms of poison. They were removed to the hospital, and for a time, there was great alarm. The prisoners feared that “the same game was playing here as had been done on the Old Jersey, where we had heard that thousands of our countrymen had died.” The poison employed in this instance was glass pounded fine and cooked with their bread.
At one point, several men suddenly fell ill with serious signs of poisoning. They were taken to the hospital, and for a while, there was a lot of panic. The prisoners were worried that “the same thing was happening here as had happened on the Old Jersey, where we’d heard that thousands of our countrymen had died.” The poison used in this case was finely ground glass mixed into their bread.
An English clergyman named Wren sympathized strongly with the prisoners and assisted them to escape. He lived at Gosport, and if any of the captives were so fortunate as to dig themselves out and succeed in reaching his house, they were safe. This good man begged money and food for “his children,” as he called them.
An English clergyman named Wren felt a deep compassion for the prisoners and helped them escape. He lived in Gosport, and if any of the captives managed to dig their way out and make it to his house, they were safe. This kind man collected money and food for “his children,” as he referred to them.
On the second of June, 1779, 120 of them were exchanged. There were then 600 confined in that prison. On the 6th of June they sailed for Nantes in France. The French treated them with great kindness, made up a purse for them, and gave them decent clothing.
On June 2, 1779, 120 of them were exchanged. There were then 600 held in that prison. On June 6, they set sail for Nantes in France. The French treated them very kindly, collected a fund for them, and provided them with decent clothing.
Fanning next went to L’Orient, and there met John Paul Jones, who invited him to go on board the Bon Homme Richard as a midshipman. They sailed on the 14th of August on the memorable expedition to the British Channel.
Fanning then went to L’Orient, where he met John Paul Jones, who invited him to join the Bon Homme Richard as a midshipman. They set sail on August 14th for the famous mission to the British Channel.
After being with Jones for some time Fanning, on the 23rd of March, 1781, sailed for home in a privateer from Morlaix, France. This privateer was captured by the English frigate, Aurora.
After spending some time with Jones, Fanning sailed home on March 23, 1781, in a privateer from Morlaix, France. This privateer was captured by the English frigate, Aurora.
“Captain Anthon and myself and crew,” writes Mr. Fanning, “were all ordered to a prison at about two miles from Falmouth. The very dirtiest and most loathsome building I ever saw. Swarms of lice, remarkably fat and full grown; bed bugs, and fleas. I believe the former were of Dutch extraction, as there were confined here a number of Dutch prisoners of war, and such a company of dirty fellows I never saw before or since.”
“Captain Anthon, my crew, and I,” writes Mr. Fanning, “were all ordered to a prison about two miles from Falmouth. It was the dirtiest and most disgusting building I’ve ever seen. There were swarms of lice, remarkably fat and full-grown; bed bugs, and fleas. I think the lice were Dutch, as there were several Dutch prisoners of war held there, and I’ve never seen such a group of filthy people before or since.”
Yet these same poor fellows ceded to Captain Anthon and Mr. Fanning a corner of the prison for their private use. This they managed to get thoroughly cleansed, screened themselves off with some sheets, provided themselves with large swinging cots, and were tolerably comfortable. They were paroled and allowed full liberty within bounds, which were a mile and a half from the prison. In about six weeks Fanning was again exchanged, and went to Cherbourg in France, where he met Captain Manly, who had just escaped from the Mill prison after three years confinment.
Yet these same unfortunate guys gave Captain Anthon and Mr. Fanning a corner of the prison for their private use. They managed to clean it up thoroughly, separated themselves with some sheets, furnished it with large swinging cots, and were fairly comfortable. They were paroled and allowed full freedom within boundaries that extended a mile and a half from the prison. About six weeks later, Fanning was exchanged again and went to Cherbourg in France, where he met Captain Manly, who had just escaped from the Mill prison after three years of confinement.
CHAPTER XX. — SOME SOUTHERN NAVAL PRISONERS
Very little is known of the State navies of the south during the Revolution. Each State had her own small navy, and many were the interesting adventures, some successful, and others unfortunate, that the hardy sailors encountered. The story of each one of these little vessels would be as interesting as a romance, but we are here only concerned with the meagre accounts that have reached us of the sufferings of some of the crews of the privateers who were so unlucky as to fall into the hands of the enemy.
Very little is known about the state navies in the south during the Revolution. Each state had its own small navy, and there were many interesting adventures—some successful and others unfortunate—that the brave sailors experienced. The stories of each of these little vessels would be as captivating as a romance, but we are only focused on the limited accounts that have come down to us about the hardships faced by some of the crews of the privateers who unfortunately fell into enemy hands.
In the infant navy of Virginia were many small, extremely fleet vessels. The names of some of the Virginia ships, built at Gosport, Fredericksburg, and other Virginia towns, were the Tartar, Oxford, Thetis, Virginia, Industry, Cormorant, Loyalist (which appears to have been captured from the British), Pocohontas, Dragon, Washington, Tempest, Defiance, Oliver Cromwell, Renown, Apollo, and the Marquis Lafayette. Virginia also owned a prisonship called the Gloucester. Brigs and brigantines owned by the State were called the Raleigh, Jefferson, Sallie Norton, Northampton, Hampton, Greyhound, Dolphin, Liberty, Mosquito, Rochester, Willing Lass, Wilkes, American Fabius, Morning Star, and Mars. Schooners were the Adventure, Hornet, Speedwell, Lewis, Nicholson, Experiment, Harrison, Mayflower, Revenge, Peace and Plenty, Patriot, Liberty, and the Betsy. Sloops were the Virginia, Rattlesnake, Scorpion, Congress, Liberty, Eminence, Game-Cock, and the American Congress. Some of the galleys were the Accomac, Diligence, Hero, Gloucester, Safeguard, Manly, Henry, Norfolk, Revenge, Caswell, Protector, Washington, Page, Lewis, Dragon, and Dasher. There were two armed pilot boats named Molly and Fly. Barges were the York and Richmond. The Oxford, Cormorant, and Loyalist were prizes. The two latter were taken from the English by the French and sold to Virginia.
In the early navy of Virginia, there were many small, very fast vessels. The names of some of the Virginia ships, built in Gosport, Fredericksburg, and other towns in Virginia, included the Tartar, Oxford, Thetis, Virginia, Industry, Cormorant, Loyalist (which seems to have been captured from the British), Pocohontas, Dragon, Washington, Tempest, Defiance, Oliver Cromwell, Renown, Apollo, and the Marquis Lafayette. Virginia also had a prison ship called the Gloucester. The state owned brigs and brigantines named Raleigh, Jefferson, Sallie Norton, Northampton, Hampton, Greyhound, Dolphin, Liberty, Mosquito, Rochester, Willing Lass, Wilkes, American Fabius, Morning Star, and Mars. Schooners included Adventure, Hornet, Speedwell, Lewis, Nicholson, Experiment, Harrison, Mayflower, Revenge, Peace and Plenty, Patriot, Liberty, and Betsy. Sloops were Virginia, Rattlesnake, Scorpion, Congress, Liberty, Eminence, Game-Cock, and American Congress. Some of the galleys were Accomac, Diligence, Hero, Gloucester, Safeguard, Manly, Henry, Norfolk, Revenge, Caswell, Protector, Washington, Page, Lewis, Dragon, and Dasher. There were two armed pilot boats named Molly and Fly. The barges were York and Richmond. The Oxford, Cormorant, and Loyalist were prizes. The latter two were taken from the English by the French and sold to Virginia.
What an interesting book might be written about this little navy! Nearly all were destined to fall at last into the hands of the enemy; their crews to languish out the remainder of their days in foul dungeons, where famine and disease made short work of them. Little remains to us now except the names of these vessels.
What an interesting book could be written about this small navy! Almost all of them were eventually captured by the enemy; their crews would spend the rest of their lives in terrible dungeons, where hunger and illness quickly took them. All we have left now are just the names of these ships.
The Virginia was built at Gosport. The Dragon and some others were built at Fredericksburg. Many were built at Norfolk.
The Virginia was constructed at Gosport. The Dragon and a few others were built at Fredericksburg. Many were built at Norfolk.
The Hermit was early captured by the British. The gallant little Mosquito was taken by the Ariadne. Her crew was confined in a loathsome jail at Barbadoes. But her officers were sent to England, and confined in Fortune jail at Gosport. They succeeded in escaping and made their way to France. The names of these officers were Captain John Harris; Lieutenant Chamberlayne; Midshipman Alexander Moore; Alexander Dock, Captain of Marines; and George Catlett, Lieutenant of Marines.
The Hermit was captured early by the British. The brave little Mosquito was taken by the Ariadne. Her crew was locked up in a filthy jail in Barbados. However, her officers were sent to England and held in Fortune jail in Gosport. They managed to escape and made their way to France. The names of these officers were Captain John Harris; Lieutenant Chamberlayne; Midshipman Alexander Moore; Alexander Dock, Captain of Marines; and George Catlett, Lieutenant of Marines.
The Raleigh was captured by the British frigate Thames. Her crew was so shamefully maltreated that upon representations made to the Council of State upon their condition, it was recommended that by way of retaliation the crew of the Solebay, a sloop of war which had fallen into the hands of the Americans, should be visited with the like severe treatment. To what extent this was carried out we cannot discover.
The Raleigh was captured by the British frigate Thames. Her crew was treated so badly that when their condition was reported to the Council of State, it was suggested that as retaliation, the crew of the Solebay, a sloop of war that had been taken by the Americans, should receive similar harsh treatment. We can't find out how far this was carried out.
The Scorpion was taken by the British in the year 1781, a fatal year for the navy of Virginia.
The Scorpion was captured by the British in 1781, a disastrous year for the Virginia navy.
In the year 1857 an unsigned article on the subject of the Virginia Navy was published in the Southern Literary Messenger, which goes on to say: “But of all the sufferings in these troublous times none endured such horrors as did those Americans who were so unfortunate as to become prisoners of war to the British. They were treated more as felons than as honorable enemies. It can scarcely be credited that an enlightened people would thus have been so lost to the common instincts of humanity, as were they in their conduct towards men of the same blood, and speaking the same language with themselves. True it is they sometimes excused the cruelty of their procedures by avowing in many instances their prisoners were deserters from the English flag, and were to be dealt with accordingly. Be this as it may, no instance is on record where a Tory whom the Americans had good cause to regard as a traitor, was visited with the severities which characterized the treatment of the ordinary military captives, on the part of the English authorities. * * * The patriotic seamen of the Virginia navy were no exceptions to the rule when they fell into the hands of the more powerful lords of the ocean. They were carried in numbers to Bermuda, and to the West Indies, and cast into loathsome and pestilential prisons, from which a few sometimes managed to escape, at the peril of their lives. Respect of position and rank found no favor in the eyes of their ungenerous captors, and no appeal could reach their hearts except through the promises of bribes. Many languished and died in those places, away from country and friends, whose fate was not known until long after they had passed away. But it was not altogether abroad that they were so cruelly maltreated. The record of their sufferings in the prisons of the enemy, in our own country, is left to testify against these relentless persecutors.
In 1857, an unsigned article about the Virginia Navy was published in the Southern Literary Messenger, stating: “But of all the suffering during these troubled times, none experienced such horrors as those Americans who were unfortunate enough to become prisoners of war to the British. They were treated more like criminals than honorable enemies. It’s hard to believe that an enlightened people could be so oblivious to basic human instincts, as they were in their treatment of men who shared their blood and spoke the same language. It is true that they sometimes justified their cruelty by claiming that many of their prisoners were deserters from the English flag and should be treated as such. Regardless, there’s no record of a Tory that the Americans had good reason to consider a traitor receiving the same harsh treatment as the ordinary military captives at the hands of the English authorities. * * * The patriotic sailors of the Virginia Navy were no exception to this rule when they fell into the hands of the more powerful lords of the ocean. They were taken in large numbers to Bermuda and the West Indies and thrown into filthy and disease-ridden prisons, from which a few occasionally managed to escape at the risk of their lives. Their captors showed no respect for rank or position, and no plea could reach their hearts except through the promise of bribes. Many suffered and died in those places, far from their country and friends, whose fate remained unknown until long after they had passed away. But the cruelty didn’t only happen abroad; the record of their suffering in enemy prisons here at home stands as a testament against these relentless persecutors.”
“In New York and Halifax many of the Virginian officers and seamen were relieved of their pains, alone by the hand of death; and in their own State, at Portsmouth, the like fate overtook many more, who had endured horrors rivalled only by the terrors of the Black Hole of Calcutta. * * * The reader will agree that we do not exaggerate when he shall have seen the case as given under oath by one who was in every respect a competent witness.
“In New York and Halifax, many of the Virginian officers and sailors were relieved of their suffering solely by death; and in their own state, at Portsmouth, the same fate befell many more, who had faced horrors only matched by the terrors of the Black Hole of Calcutta. * * * The reader will agree that we are not exaggerating once they have seen the account provided under oath by someone who was fully qualified to testify.”
“It will be remembered that, in another part of this narrative, mention was made of the loss in Lynhaven Bay of the galley Dasher, and the capture of the officers and the crew. Captain Willis Wilson was her unfortunate commander on that occasion. He and his men were confined in the Provost Jail at Portsmouth, Virginia, and after his release he made public the ‘secrets’ of that ‘Prison House,’ by the following deposition, which is copied from the original document.
“It will be remembered that, in another part of this story, there was mention of the loss of the galley Dasher in Lynhaven Bay and the capture of the officers and crew. Captain Willis Wilson was her unfortunate commander at that time. He and his men were held in the Provost Jail in Portsmouth, Virginia, and after his release, he revealed the ‘secrets’ of that ‘Prison House’ through the following statement, which is copied from the original document.”
“‘The deposition of Willis Wilson, being first sworn deposes and sayeth: That about the 23rd July last the deponent was taken a prisoner of war; was conducted to Portsmouth (Virginia) after having been plundered of all his clothing, etc., and there lodged with about 190 other prisoners, in the Provost. This deponent during twenty odd days was a spectator to the most savage cruelty with which the unhappy prisoners were treated by the English. The deponent has every reason to believe there was a premeditated scheme to infect all the prisoners who had not been infected with the smallpox. There were upwards of 100 prisoners who never had the disorder, notwithstanding which negroes, with the infection upon them, were lodged under the same roof of the Provost. Others were sent in to attend upon the prisoners, with the scabs of that disorder upon them.
“‘The deposition of Willis Wilson, having been sworn in, states: That around July 23rd of last year, the deponent was taken prisoner during the war; was taken to Portsmouth (Virginia) after having been stripped of all his clothing and belongings, and there housed with about 190 other prisoners in the Provost. For over twenty days, this deponent witnessed the most brutal cruelty inflicted on the unfortunate prisoners by the English. The deponent has every reason to believe there was a deliberate plan to infect all the prisoners who had not yet contracted smallpox. There were more than 100 prisoners who had never had the disease, yet black individuals, infected with it, were housed under the same roof in the Provost. Others were brought in to care for the prisoners, carrying the scabs of that disease on them.
“‘Some of the prisoners soon caught the disorder, others were down with the flux, and some from fevers. From such a complication of disorders ‘twas thought expedient to petition General O’Hara who was then commanding officer, for a removal of the sick, or those who were not, as yet, infected with the smallpox. Accordingly a petition was sent by Dr. Smith who shortly returned with a verbal answer, as he said, from the General. He said the General desired him to inform the prisoners that the law of nations was annihilated, that he had nothing then to bind them but bolts and bars, and they were to continue where they were, but that they were free agents to inoculate if they chose.
“‘Some of the prisoners soon got sick, others had stomach problems, and some were suffering from fevers. Given this mix of illnesses, it was deemed necessary to ask General O’Hara, who was the commanding officer at the time, for a transfer of the sick, or those who had not yet caught the smallpox. So, Dr. Smith sent a request, and he soon returned with a verbal response from the General. He said the General wanted him to tell the prisoners that the law of nations was destroyed, that he had nothing to hold them in place other than chains and bars, and they were to stay where they were, but that they could choose to get inoculated if they wanted.’
“‘About thirty agreed with the same Smith to inoculate them at a guinea a man; he performed the operation, received his guinea from many, and then left them to shift for themselves, though he had agreed to attend them through the disorder. Many of them, as well as those who took it in the natural way, died. Colonel Gee, with many respectable characters, fell victims to the unrelenting cruelty of O’Hara, who would admit of no discrimination between the officers, privates, negroes, and felons; but promiscuously confined the whole in one house. * * * They also suffered often from want of water, and such as they got was very muddy and unfit to drink.
“About thirty people agreed with the same Smith to get vaccinated for a guinea each. He did the procedure, collected his guinea from many, and then left them to fend for themselves, even though he had promised to take care of them during the illness. Many of them, along with those who caught it naturally, died. Colonel Gee and many other respected individuals became victims of O’Hara's ruthless actions, who made no distinction between officers, soldiers, black people, and criminals; he indiscriminately locked them all in one house. They also often suffered from a lack of water, and the water they did get was very muddy and unfit to drink.”
“‘Willis Wilson.
"Willis Wilson."
“‘This day came before me Captain Willis Wilson and made oath that the above is true.
“Today, Captain Willis Wilson came before me and swore that what is stated above is true.
“‘Samuel Thorogood.’”
“Samuel Thorogood.”
There is much of great interest in this article on the Virginia Navy which is not to our present purpose. The writer goes on to tell how, on one occasion, the ship Favorite, bearing a flag of truce, was returning to Virginia, with a number of Americans who had just been liberated or exchanged in Bermuda, when she was overhauled by a British man-of-war, and both her crew and passengers robbed of all they had. The British ships which committed this dastardly deed were the Tiger, of 14 guns, and the schooner Surprise, of 10 guns.
There’s a lot of interesting information in this article about the Virginia Navy that isn’t relevant to our current discussion. The author describes an incident where the ship Favorite, flying a truce flag, was on its way back to Virginia with several Americans who had just been freed or exchanged in Bermuda, when it was intercepted by a British warship. Both the crew and passengers were robbed of everything they had. The British vessels involved in this shameful act were the Tiger, carrying 14 guns, and the schooner Surprise, with 10 guns.
Captain James Barron, afterwards Commodore Barren, was the master spirit of the service in Virginia. One of the Virginian vessels, very appropriately named the Victory, was commanded by him, and was never defeated.
Captain James Barron, later Commodore Barren, was the driving force of the service in Virginia. One of the Virginian ships, aptly named the Victory, was under his command and was never defeated.
In 1781 Joseph Galloway wrote a letter to Lord Howe in which he says: “The rebel navy has been in a great measure destroyed by the small British force remaining in America, and the privateers sent out from New York. Their navy, which consisted, at the time of your departure, of about thirty vessels, is now reduced to eight, and the number of privateers fitted out in New England amounting to an hundred and upwards is now less than forty.”
In 1781, Joseph Galloway wrote a letter to Lord Howe stating: “The rebel navy has largely been destroyed by the small British force still in America and the privateers sent out from New York. Their navy, which had about thirty vessels at the time you left, is now down to eight, and the number of privateers launched in New England, which was over a hundred, is now less than forty.”
CHAPTER XXI. — EXTRACTS FROM NEWSPAPERS—SOME OF THE PRISON SHIPS—CASE OF CAPTAIN
BIRDSALL
BIRDSALL
At the risk of repetition of some facts that have already been given, we must again refer the reader to some extracts from the newspapers of the day. In this instance the truth can best be established by the mouths of many witnesses, and we do not hesitate to give the English side whenever we have been able to discover anything bearing on the subject in the so-called loyal periodicals of the time.
At the risk of repeating some facts we've already mentioned, we must once again direct the reader to some excerpts from the newspapers of the day. In this case, the truth is best established through multiple witnesses, and we don’t hesitate to present the English perspective whenever we've found relevant information in the so-called loyal publications of the time.
From Freeman’s Journal, date of Jan. 19th, 1777, we take the following:
From Freeman’s Journal, dated Jan. 19, 1777, we take the following:
“General Howe has discharged all the privates who were prisoners in New York. Half he sent to the world of spirits for want of food: the others he hath sent to warn their countrymen of the danger of falling into his hands, and to convince them by ocular demonstration, that it is infinitely better to be slain in battle, than to be taken prisoner by British brutes, whose tender mercies are cruelties.”
“General Howe has released all the privates who were imprisoned in New York. Half of them he sent to the afterlife due to lack of food; the others he sent to warn their fellow countrymen about the danger of falling into his hands, and to show them that it is far better to be killed in battle than to be captured by British savages, whose so-called kindness is nothing but cruelty.”
In the Connecticut Journal of Jan. 30th, 1777, is the following:
In the Connecticut Journal from January 30, 1777, is the following:
“This account of the sufferings of these unfortunate men was obtained from the prisoners themselves. As soon as they were taken they were robbed of all their baggage; of whatever money they had, though it were of paper; of their silver shoe buckles and knee buckles, etc.; and many were stripped almost of their clothes. Especially those who had good clothes were stripped at once, being told that such were ‘too good for rebels.’
“This account of the suffering of these unfortunate men was taken directly from the prisoners themselves. As soon as they were captured, they were robbed of all their belongings; of whatever money they had, even if it was just paper; of their silver shoe buckles and knee buckles, and so on; and many were nearly stripped of their clothes. Especially those who wore nice clothes were stripped right away, being told that such things were ‘too good for rebels.’”
“Thus deprived of their clothes and baggage, they were unable to shift even their linen, and were obliged to wear the same shirts for even three or four months together, whereby they became extremely nasty; and this of itself was sufficient to bring on them many mortal diseases.
“Thus stripped of their clothes and belongings, they couldn't even change their underwear and were forced to wear the same shirts for three or four months in a row, which made them extremely filthy; and this alone was enough to lead to many serious illnesses.”
“After they were taken they were in the first place put on board the ships, and thrust down into the hold, where not a breath of fresh air could be obtained, and they were nearly suffocated for want of air.
“After they were captured, they were first put on board the ships and pushed down into the hold, where not a breath of fresh air could be found, and they nearly suffocated from lack of air.”
“Some who were taken at Fort Washington were first in this manner thrust down into the holds of vessels in such numbers that even in the cold season of November they could scarcely bear any clothes on them, being kept in a constant sweat. Yet these same persons, after lying in this situation awhile, till the pores of their bodies were as perfectly open as possible, were of a sudden taken out and put into some of the churches of New York, without covering, or a spark of fire, where they suffered as much by the cold as they did by the sweating stagnation of the air in the other situation; and the consequence was that they took such colds as brought on the most fatal diseases, and swept them off almost beyond conception.
“Some who were captured at Fort Washington were first shoved down into the holds of ships in such numbers that even in the cold month of November, they could hardly wear any clothes, as they were kept in a constant sweat. Yet, after lying in that condition for a while, until their pores were completely open, they were suddenly taken out and placed in some of the churches in New York, without any covering or a spark of fire, where they suffered just as much from the cold as they did from the stagnant, sweaty air in the previous situation; and the result was that they caught such severe colds that it led to fatal illnesses, wiping them out almost beyond belief.”
“Besides these things they suffered severely for want of provisions. The commissioners pretended to allow a half a pound of bread, and four ounces of pork per day; but of this pittance they were much cut short. What was given them for three days was not enough for one day and, in some instances, they went for three days without a single mouthful of food of any kind. They were pinched to such an extent that some on board the ships would pick up and eat the salt that happened to be scattered there; others gathered up the bran which the light horse wasted, and eat it, mixed with dirt and filth as it was.
“On top of everything else, they struggled badly due to a lack of food. The commissioners claimed they would provide half a pound of bread and four ounces of pork each day; however, this meager allowance was often cut down even further. What they received over three days was barely enough for one day, and in some cases, they went three days without eating anything at all. They were in such dire straits that some on the ships would pick up and eat the salt that was scattered around; others collected the bran that the light horses wasted and ate it, even though it was mixed with dirt and filth.”
“Nor was this all, both the bread and pork which they did allow them was extremely bad. For the bread, some of it was made out of the bran which they brought over to feed their light horse, and the rest of it was so muddy, and the pork so damnified, being so soaked in bilge water during the transportation from Europe, that they were not fit to be eaten by human creatures, and when they were eaten were very unwholesome. Such bread and pork as they would not pretend to give to their own countrymen they gave to our poor sick dying prisoners.
“On top of that, the bread and pork they gave them were really terrible. Some of the bread was made from bran that they brought over to feed their light horses, and the rest was so moldy, and the pork in such bad shape, having soaked in bilge water during the trip from Europe, that it was barely fit for humans. When it was eaten, it was very unhealthy. The bread and pork they wouldn't even consider giving to their own countrymen were what they handed to our poor sick dying prisoners.”
“Nor were they in this doleful condition allowed a sufficiency of water. One would have thought that water was so cheap and plentiful an element, that they would not have grudged them that. But there are, it seems, no bounds to their cruelty. The water allowed them was so brackish, and withal nasty, that they could not drink it until reduced to extremity. Nor did they let them have a sufficiency of even such water as this.
“Nor were they in this sad situation allowed enough water. One would have thought that water was so cheap and plentiful that they wouldn't have held back on it. But it seems there are no limits to their cruelty. The water they were given was so salty and disgusting that they couldn't drink it until they were desperate. And they didn't even give them enough of that lousy water.”
“When winter came on, our people suffered extremely for want of fire and clothes to keep them warm. They were confined in churches where there were no fireplaces that they could make fires, even if they had wood. But wood was only allowed them for cooking their pittance of victuals; and for that purpose very sparingly. They had none to keep them warm even in the extremest of weather, although they were almost naked, and the few clothes they had were their summer clothes. Nor had they a single blanket, nor any bedding, not even straw allowed them until a little before Christmas.
“When winter arrived, our people suffered greatly due to a lack of fire and warm clothing. They were confined in churches that didn’t have fireplaces, so they couldn’t make fires even if they had wood. But wood was only provided for cooking their meager food, and even that was given very sparingly. They had nothing to keep warm during the harshest weather, even though they were nearly naked, and the few clothes they had were summer attire. They didn’t have a single blanket or any bedding, not even straw, until just before Christmas.”
“At the time those were taken on Long Island a considerable part of them were sick of the dysentery; and with this distemper on them were first crowded on board the ships, afterwards in the churches in New York, three, four or five hundred together, without any blankets, or anything for even the sick to lie upon, but the bare floors or pavements.
“At the time those were taken on Long Island, a significant number of them were suffering from dysentery; and with this illness affecting them, they were first packed onto the ships, and later into churches in New York, three, four, or five hundred together, without any blankets or anything for the sick to lie on, just the bare floors or pavements.”
“In this situation that contagious distemper soon communicated from the sick to the well, who would probably have remained so, had they not in this manner been thrust in together without regard to sick or well, or to the sultry, unwholesome season, it being then the heat of summer. Of this distemper numbers died daily, and many others by their confinement and the sultry season contracted fevers and died of them. During their sickness, with these and other diseases, they had no medicines, nothing soothing or comfortable for sick people, and were not so much as visited by the physician for months together.
“In this situation, that contagious illness quickly spread from the sick to the healthy, who likely would have stayed well if they hadn’t been pushed together without consideration for whether they were sick or healthy, or for the hot, unhealthy season, as it was the peak of summer. Many died from this illness daily, and many more developed fevers and died due to their confinement and the oppressive heat. During their illness, along with these and other diseases, they had no medicine, nothing soothing or comforting for the sick, and weren't even visited by a doctor for months on end.”
“Nor ought we to omit the insults which the humane Britons offered to our people, nor the artifices which they used to enlist them in their service to fight against their country. It seems that one end of their starving our people was to bring them, by dint of necessity, to turn rebels to their own country, their own consciences, and their God. For while thus famishing they would come and say to them: ‘This is the just punishment of your rebellion. Nay, you are treated too well for rebels; you have not received half you deserve or half you shall receive. But if you will enlist into his Majesty’s service, you shall have victuals and clothes enough.’
“Nor should we overlook the insults that the humane Britons directed at our people, nor the tricks they used to recruit them to fight against their own country. It seems that one goal of starving our people was to force them, out of desperation, to become rebels against their own country, their own consciences, and their God. While they were suffering from hunger, they would come and say to them: ‘This is the rightful punishment for your rebellion. In fact, you’re being treated too well for rebels; you haven’t received half of what you deserve or half of what you will receive. But if you join His Majesty’s service, you will get plenty of food and clothing.’”
“As to insults, the British officers, besides continually cursing and swearing at them as rebels, often threatened to hang them all; and, on a particular time, ordered a number, each man to choose his halter out of a parcel offered, wherewith to be hanged; and even went so far as to cause a gallows to be erected before the prison, as if they were to be immediately executed.
“As for insults, the British officers, besides constantly cursing and swearing at them as rebels, often threatened to hang them all. At one point, they ordered a number of them to choose their noose from a selection provided for hanging. They even went so far as to set up a gallows in front of the prison, as if they were going to be executed immediately.”
“They further threatened to send them all into the East Indies, and sell them there for slaves.
“They further threatened to send them all to the East Indies and sell them there as slaves."
“In these and numberless other ways did the British officers seem to rack their inventions to insult, terrify, and vex the poor prisoners. The meanest, upstart officers among them would insult and abuse our colonels and chief officers.
“In these and countless other ways, the British officers appeared to strain their creativity to insult, frighten, and bother the unfortunate prisoners. Even the most lowly, arrogant officers among them would insult and mistreat our colonels and top officials."
“In this situation, without clothes, without victuals or drink, or even water, or with those which were base and unwholesome; without fire, a number of them sick, first with a contagious and nauseous distemper; these, with others, crowded by hundreds into close confinement, at the most unwholesome season of the year, and continued there for four months without blankets, bedding, or straw; without linen to shift or clothes to cover their bodies;—No wonder they all became sickly, and having at the same time no medicine, no help of physicians, nothing to refresh or support nature, died by scores in a night, and those who were so far gone as to be unable to help themselves lay uncared for, till death, more kind than Britons, put an end to their misery.
“In this situation, without clothes, without food or drink, or even water, or with what was cheap and unhealthy; without fire, many of them sick, first with a contagious and disgusting illness; these, along with others, crammed together by the hundreds in close confinement during the most unhealthy season of the year, and stayed there for four months without blankets, bedding, or straw; without linen to change into or clothes to cover their bodies;—No wonder they all became ill, and having at the same time no medicine, no help from doctors, nothing to refresh or support them, died in droves overnight, and those who were too weak to help themselves lay neglected until death, kinder than the British, ended their suffering.
“By these means, and in this way, 1,500 brave Americans, who had nobly gone forth in defence of their injured, oppressed country, but whom the chance at war had cast into the hands of our enemies, died in New York, many of whom were very amiable, promising youths, of good families, the very flower of our land; and of those who lived to come out of prison, the greater part, as far as I can learn, are dead or dying. Their constitutions are broken; the stamina of nature worn out; they cannot recover—they die. Even the few that might have survived are dying of the smallpox. For it seems that our enemies determining that even these, whom a good constitution and a kind Providence had carried through unexampled sufferings, should not at last escape death, just before their release from imprisonment infected them with that fatal distemper.
“Through these actions, 1,500 brave Americans, who had nobly stepped up to defend their injured and oppressed country, found themselves captured by our enemies during the war and died in New York. Many were amiable, promising young people from good families, the very best of our land. Of those who survived their imprisonment, most, as far as I know, are now dead or dying. Their health is shattered; their natural strength has been worn away; recovery seems impossible—they are dying. Even the few who might have lived are succumbing to smallpox. It appears that our enemies, determined that even these individuals, who were sustained by a strong constitution and divine Providence through unprecedented suffering, would not escape death, infected them with that deadly disease just before their release from captivity.”
“To these circumstances we subjoin the manner in which they buried those of our people who died. They dragged them out of the prison by one leg or one arm, piled them up without doors, there let them lie until a sufficient number were dead to make a cart load, then loaded them up in a cart, drove the cart thus loaded out to the ditches made by our people when fortifying New York; there they would tip the cart, tumble the corpses together into the ditch, and afterwards slightly cover them with earth. * * * While our poor prisoners have been thus treated by our foes, the prisoners we have taken have enjoyed the liberty of walking and riding about within large limits at their pleasure; have been freely supplied with every necessary, and have even lived on the fat of the land. None have been so well fed, so plump, and so merry as they; and this generous treatment, it is said, they could not but remember. For when they were returned in the exchange of prisoners, and saw the miserable, famished, dying state of our prisoners, conscious of the treatment they had received, they could not refrain from tears.” Connecticut Journal, Jan. 30th, 1777.
“To these circumstances, we add how they buried our people who died. They dragged them out of the prison by one leg or one arm, piled them up outside, and left them there until enough had died to fill a cart. Then they loaded them into a cart, drove it to the ditches our people had dug while fortifying New York, tipped the cart, and tumbled the bodies into the ditch, covering them slightly with dirt afterward. * * * While our poor prisoners have been treated this way by our enemies, the prisoners we captured enjoyed the freedom to walk and ride around within large areas at their leisure, were supplied with every necessity, and even lived comfortably. None have been so well-fed, so plump, and so cheerful as they; and this generous treatment, it is said, they could not forget. When they were returned in the exchange of prisoners and saw the miserable, starving, dying condition of our prisoners, aware of how they had been treated, they could not help but cry.” Connecticut Journal, Jan. 30th, 1777.
In April of the year 1777 a committee that was appointed by Congress to inquire into the doings of the British on their different marches through New York and New Jersey reported that “The prisoners, instead of that humane treatment which those taken by the United States experienced, were in general treated with the greatest barbarity. Many of them were kept near four days without food altogether. * * * Freemen and men of substance suffered all that generous minds could suffer from the contempt and mockery of British and foreign mercenaries. Multitudes died in prison. When they were sent out several died in being carried from the boats on shore, or upon the road attempting to go home. The committee, in the course of their inquiry, learned that sometimes the common soldiers expressed sympathy with the prisoners, and the foreigners (did this) more than the English. But this was seldom or never the case with the officers, nor have they been able to hear of any charitable assistance given them by the inhabitants who remained in, or resorted to the city of New York, which neglect, if universal, they believe was never known to happen in any similar case in a Christian country.”
In April 1777, a committee appointed by Congress to investigate the actions of the British during their various movements through New York and New Jersey reported that “The prisoners, instead of receiving the humane treatment that those taken by the United States experienced, were generally treated with extreme brutality. Many of them went nearly four days without food at all. * * * Freemen and men of status endured everything that generous minds could bear from the contempt and mockery of British and foreign mercenaries. Countless died in prison. When they were sent out, several died while being carried from the boats to shore, or on the road while trying to get home. During their investigation, the committee learned that sometimes common soldiers expressed sympathy for the prisoners, and foreigners did this more than the English. However, this was rarely, if ever, the case with the officers, nor could they find any evidence of charitable assistance offered to them by the residents who stayed in or visited New York City, which neglect, if widespread, they believed had never been seen in any similar situation in a Christian country.”
We have already shown that some of the citizens of New York, even a number of the profligate women of the town, did their best to relieve the wants of the perishing prisoners. But the guards were very strict, and what they could do was inadequate to remove the distresses under which these victims of cruelty and oppression died. As we are attempting to make this work a compendium of all the facts that can be gathered upon the subject, we must beg the reader’s indulgence if we continue to give corroborating testimony of the same character, from the periodicals of the day. We will next quote from the New Hampshire Gazette, date of February 4th, 1779.
We’ve already shown that some citizens of New York, including several of the town's wayward women, tried their best to help the starving prisoners. However, the guards were very strict, and what they could do wasn’t enough to alleviate the suffering that these victims of cruelty and oppression faced before they died. Since we're aiming to make this work a comprehensive collection of all relevant facts on the subject, we ask for the reader’s patience as we continue to provide supporting evidence of the same nature from contemporary publications. Next, we will quote from the New Hampshire Gazette, dated February 4th, 1779.
“It is painful to repeat the indubitable accounts we are constantly receiving, of the cruel and inhuman treatment of the subjects of these States from the British in New York and other places. They who hear our countrymen who have been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of those unrelenting tyrants, relate the sad story of their captivity, the insults they have received, and the slow, cool, systematic manner in which great numbers of those who could not be prevailed on to enter their service have been murdered, must have hearts of stone not to melt with pity for the sufferers, and burn with indignation at their tormentors. As we have daily fresh instances to prove the truth of such a representation, public justice requires that repeated public mention should be made of them. A cartel vessel lately arrived at New London in Connecticut, carrying about 130 American prisoners from the prison ships in New York. Such was the condition in which these poor creatures were put on board the cartel, that in the short run, 16 died on board; upwards of sixty when they were landed, were scarcely able to move, and the remainder greatly emaciated and enfeebled; and many who continue alive are never likely to recover their former health. The greatest inhumanity was experienced by the prisoners in a ship of which one Nelson, a Scotchman, had the superintendence. Upwards of 300 American prisoners were confined at a time, on board this ship. There was but one small fire-place allowed to cook the food of such a number. The allowance of the prisoners was, moreover, frequently delayed, insomuch that, in the short days of November and December, it was not begun to be delivered out until 11 o’clock in the forenoon so that the whole could not be served until three. At sunset the fire was ordered to be quenched; no plea from the many sick, from their absolute necessity, the shortness of the time or the smallness of the hearth, was allowed to avail. The known consequence was that some had not their food dressed at all; many were obliged to eat it half raw. On board the ship no flour, oatmeal, and things of like nature, suited to the condition of infirm people, were allowed to the many sick, nothing but ship-bread, beef, and pork. This is the account given by a number of prisoners, who are credible persons, and this is but a part of their sufferings; so that the excuse made by the enemy that the prisoners were emaciated and died by contagious sickness, which no one could prevent, is futile. It requires no great sagacity to know that crowding people together without fresh air, and feeding, or rather starving them in such a manner as the prisoners have been, must unavoidably produce a contagion. Nor is it a want of candor to suppose that many of our enemies saw with pleasure this contagion, which might have been so easily prevented, among the prisoners who could not be persuaded to enter the service.”
“It’s heartbreaking to share the undeniable reports we keep receiving about the cruel and inhumane treatment of the subjects of these States by the British in New York and elsewhere. Anyone who hears our countrymen, who have been unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of those relentless tyrants, recount the tragic details of their captivity, the insults they've endured, and the slow, calculated way in which many who wouldn’t agree to serve them have been murdered, must have hearts of stone not to feel pity for the victims and rage toward their oppressors. As we get daily examples proving the truth of these accounts, it’s crucial for public justice that we keep bringing them to light. A cartel ship recently arrived in New London, Connecticut, carrying about 130 American prisoners from the prison ships in New York. The conditions these poor souls were in when put on board the cartel were so dire that 16 died during the trip; over sixty, upon reaching land, could barely move, and the rest were severely emaciated and weak, with many who are still alive unlikely to regain their former health. The worst inhumanity was suffered by the prisoners on a ship overseen by a Scot named Nelson. More than 300 American prisoners were confined aboard this ship at once. There was only one small fireplace allowed to cook for all these people. The prisoners’ rations were often delayed, so during the short days of November and December, food distribution didn’t even start until 11 o’clock in the morning, meaning that all of it could only be served by three. At sunset, they were ordered to extinguish the fire; no arguments about the many sick, the urgency, or the size of the hearth were considered valid. The known result was that some didn’t have any food cooked at all; many had to eat it half raw. On the ship, there was no flour, oatmeal, or anything appropriate for sick individuals—only ship’s bread, beef, and pork were available. This account comes from several credible prisoners, and it only scratches the surface of their suffering. Therefore, the enemy’s excuse that the prisoners were emaciated and died from contagious diseases that no one could prevent is utterly ridiculous. It doesn’t take much insight to realize that cramming people together without fresh air and feeding, or rather starving, them in such a manner as these prisoners were treated will inevitably lead to contagion. Moreover, it isn’t unfair to assume that many of our enemies took pleasure in this contagion, which could have been so easily avoided, among the prisoners who refused to enlist.”
THE CASE OF CAPTAIN BIRDSALL
THE CASE OF CAPTAIN BIRDSALL
Soon after the battle of Long Island Captain Birdsall, a Whig officer, made a successful attempt to release an American vessel laden with flour for the army, which had been captured in the Sound by the British. Captain Birdsall offered, if the undertaking was approved of by his superior officer, to superintend the enterprise himself. The proposal was accepted, when Birdsall, with a few picked men, made the experiment, and succeeded in sending the vessel to her original destination. But he and one of his men fell into the hands of the enemy. He was sent to the Provost Jail under surveillance of “that monster in human shape, the infamous Cunningham.” He requested the use of pen, ink, and paper, for the purpose of acquainting his family of his situation. On being refused he made a reply which drew from the keeper some opprobious epithets, accompanied by a thrust from his sword, which penetrated the shoulder of his victim, and caused the blood to flow freely. Being locked up alone in a filthy apartment, and denied any assistance whatever, he was obliged to dress the wound with his own linen, and then to endure, in solitude and misery, every indignity which the malice of the Provost Master urged him to inflict upon a damned rebel, who, he declared, ought to be hung. “After several months of confinement and starvation he was exchanged.”
Soon after the Battle of Long Island, Captain Birdsall, a Whig officer, successfully freed an American ship filled with flour for the army, which had been captured by the British in the Sound. If his superior officer approved, Captain Birdsall offered to lead the mission himself. The plan was accepted, and Birdsall, along with a few selected men, carried it out, successfully sending the ship to its original destination. However, he and one of his men were captured by the enemy. He was sent to Provost Jail under the watch of "that monster in human form, the infamous Cunningham." He asked for pen, ink, and paper to inform his family of his situation. When denied, he made a remark that earned him some harsh insults from the guard, along with a stab from his sword that pierced the shoulder of his attacker, causing blood to flow freely. Locked alone in a filthy cell and denied any assistance, he had to bandage his wound with his own linen and then endure, in solitude and suffering, every humiliation that the Provost Master was eager to inflict on a damned rebel, who he claimed deserved to be hanged. “After several months of confinement and starvation, he was exchanged.”
Two Whig gentlemen of Long Island were imprisoned in the Provost Prison some time in the year 1777. Two English Quakers named Jacob Watson and Robert Murray at last procured their release. Their names were George Townsend and John Kirk. Kirk caught the smallpox while in prison. He was sent home in a covered wagon. His wife met him at the door, and tenderly nursed him through the disorder. He recovered in due time, but she and her infant daughter died of the malady. There were hundreds of such cases: indeed throughout the war contagion was carried into every part of the country by soldiers and former prisoners. In some instances the British were accused of selling inoculated clothing to the prisoners. Let us hope that some, at least, of these reports are unfounded.
Two Whig gentlemen from Long Island were imprisoned in Provost Prison sometime in 1777. Two English Quakers named Jacob Watson and Robert Murray finally helped secure their release. Their names were George Townsend and John Kirk. Kirk caught smallpox while in prison and was sent home in a covered wagon. His wife met him at the door and lovingly cared for him through the illness. He eventually recovered, but she and their infant daughter died from the disease. There were hundreds of such cases; indeed, throughout the war, contagion spread to every part of the country by soldiers and former prisoners. In some cases, the British were accused of selling contaminated clothing to the prisoners. Let’s hope that at least some of these reports are not true.
The North Dutch Church was the last of the churches used as prisons to be torn down. As late as 1850 it was still standing, and marks of bayonet thrusts were plainly to be discerned upon its pillars. How many of the wretched sufferers were in this manner done to death we have no means of discovering, but it must have been easier to die in that manner than to have endured the protracted agonies of death by starvation.
The North Dutch Church was the last of the churches-turned-prisons to be demolished. It was still standing as late as 1850, and you could clearly see marks from bayonet strikes on its pillars. We have no way of knowing how many unfortunate souls met their end this way, but it must have been easier to die like that than to suffer the prolonged pain of dying from starvation.
John Pintard, who assisted his uncle, Lewis Pintard, Commissioner for American prisoners in New York, thus wrote of their sufferings. It must be remembered that the prisoners taken in 1776 died, for the most part, before our struggling nation was able to protect them, before Commissioners had been appointed, and when, in her feeble infancy, the Republic was powerless to aid them.
John Pintard, who helped his uncle, Lewis Pintard, the Commissioner for American prisoners in New York, wrote about their suffering. It's important to remember that most of the prisoners captured in 1776 died before our struggling nation could protect them, before Commissioners were appointed, and when the Republic, in its early stages, was too weak to help them.
“The prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort Washington, sick, wounded, and well, were all indiscriminately huddled together, by hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by disease, and many undoubtedly poisoned by inhuman attendants, for the sake of their watches or silver buckles.”
“The prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort Washington, whether sick, wounded, or healthy, were all crowded together indiscriminately in groups of hundreds and thousands. Many of them died from diseases, and many were likely poisoned by cruel caretakers who wanted their watches or silver buckles.”
It was on the 20th of January, 1777, that Washington proposed to Mr. Lewis Pintard, a merchant of New York, that he should accept the position as resident agent for American prisoners. In May of that year General Parsons sent to Washington a plan for making a raid upon Long Island, and bringing off the American officers, prisoners of war on parole. Washington, however, disapproved of the plan, and it was not executed.
It was on January 20, 1777, that Washington suggested to Mr. Lewis Pintard, a merchant from New York, that he take on the role of resident agent for American prisoners. In May of that year, General Parsons sent Washington a plan for a raid on Long Island to rescue the American officers who were prisoners of war on parole. However, Washington didn’t approve of the plan, and it was never carried out.
No one sympathized with the unfortunate victims of British cruelty more deeply than the Commander-in-chief. But he keenly felt the injustice of exchanging sound, healthy, British soldiers, for starved and dying wretches, for the most part unable even to reach their homes. In a letter written by him on the 28th of May, 1777, to General Howe, he declared that a great proportion of prisoners sent out by the British were not fit subjects for exchange, and that, being made so unfit by the severity of their treatment, a deduction should be made. It is needless to say that the British General refused this proposition.
No one felt more compassion for the unfortunate victims of British cruelty than the Commander-in-chief. However, he was acutely aware of the unfairness of swapping healthy British soldiers for starved and dying individuals, most of whom couldn’t even make it back home. In a letter he wrote on May 28, 1777, to General Howe, he stated that a significant number of prisoners sent by the British were not suitable for exchange, and that because their condition had deteriorated due to harsh treatment, a deduction should be considered. Needless to say, the British General rejected this suggestion.
On the 10th of June, 1777, Washington, in a long letter to General Howe, states that he gave clothing to the British prisoners in his care. He also declares that he was not informed of the sufferings of the Americans in New York until too late, and that he was refused permission to establish an agency in that city to purchase what was necessary to supply the wants of the prisoners.
On June 10, 1777, Washington, in a lengthy letter to General Howe, says that he provided clothing to the British prisoners he was responsible for. He also mentions that he didn't learn about the hardships faced by the Americans in New York until it was too late, and that he was denied the opportunity to set up an agency in that city to buy what was needed to help supply the prisoners.
It was not until after the battle of Trenton that anything could be done to relieve these poor men. Washington, by his heroism, when he led his little band across the half frozen Delaware, saved the lives of the small remnant of prisoners in New York. After the battle he had so many British and Hessian prisoners in his power, that he was able to impress upon the British general the fact that American prisoners were too valuable to be murdered outright, and that it was more expedient to keep them alive for purposes of exchange.
It wasn't until after the battle of Trenton that anything could be done to help these poor men. Washington, through his bravery, when he led his small group across the partially frozen Delaware, saved the lives of the few remaining prisoners in New York. After the battle, he had so many British and Hessian prisoners in his control that he was able to convince the British general that American prisoners were too valuable to be killed outright, and that it made more sense to keep them alive for exchange purposes.
Rivington’s Gazette of Jan. 15th, 1779, contains this notice: “Privateers arriving in New York Harbor are to put their prisoners on board the Good Hope or Prince of Wales prison ships.
Rivington’s Gazette of Jan. 15th, 1779, contains this notice: “Privateers arriving in New York Harbor are to put their prisoners on board the Good Hope or Prince of Wales prison ships.
“James Dick.”
“James Dick.”
If the Jersey were in use at that time it must have been too crowded for further occupancy. But although there is frequent mention in the periodicals of the day of the prison ships of New York the Jersey did not become notorious until later.
If the Jersey was in use at that time, it must have been too crowded for more people. However, even though the newspapers of the time often talked about the prison ships of New York, the Jersey didn't become infamous until later.
On the 29th of June, 1779, Sir George Collier, in a notice in Rivington’s Gazette, forbids “privateers landing prisoners on Long Island to the damage and annoyance of His Majesty’s faithful servants.”
On June 29, 1779, Sir George Collier, in a notice in Rivington’s Gazette, prohibits “privateers from landing prisoners on Long Island to the detriment and annoyance of His Majesty’s loyal subjects.”
This order was no doubt issued, in fear of contagion, which fear led the British to remove their prison ships out of New York Harbor to the retired waters of Wallabout Bay, where the work of destruction could go on with less fear of producing a general pestilence.
This order was definitely issued out of fear of contagion, which caused the British to move their prison ships out of New York Harbor to the quieter waters of Wallabout Bay, where the destruction could continue with less worry about causing a widespread outbreak.
In the issue for the 23rd of August, 1779, we read: “To be sold, The sails and rigging of the ship Good Hope. Masts, spars, and yards as good as new.”
In the issue for August 23, 1779, it says: “For sale, the sails and rigging of the ship Good Hope. Masts, spars, and yards are as good as new.”
Among the accounts of cruelty to the prisoners it is refreshing to come upon such a paragraph as this, from a New London, Conn. paper, dated August 18th, 1779. “Last week five or six hundred American prisoners were exchanged. A flag returned here with 47 American prisoners, and though taken out of the Good Hope prison ship, it must (for once) be acknowledged that all were very well and healthy. Only 150 left.”
Among the stories of cruelty to prisoners, it's a breath of fresh air to find a paragraph like this from a New London, Conn. newspaper, dated August 18th, 1779. “Last week, five or six hundred American prisoners were exchanged. A flag returned here with 47 American prisoners, and although they were taken out of the Good Hope prison ship, it must (for once) be acknowledged that all were very well and healthy. Only 150 left.”
The next quotation that we will give contains one of the first mentions of the Jersey as a prison ship, that we have been able to find.
The next quote we’re going to share includes one of the earliest references to the Jersey as a prison ship that we have been able to find.
“New London, Sept. 1st, 1779. D. Stanton testifies that he was taken June 5th and put in the Jersey prison ship. An allowance from Congress was sent on board. About three or four weeks past we were removed on board the Good Hope, where we found many sick. There is now a hospital ship provided, to which they are removed, and good attention paid.”
“New London, Sept. 1st, 1779. D. Stanton states that he was captured on June 5th and placed on the Jersey prison ship. Congress sent a supply shipment on board. About three or four weeks ago, we were transferred to the Good Hope, where we found many sick people. There is now a hospital ship available, where they are moved and given proper care.”
A Boston paper dated September 2nd, 1779, has the following: “Returned to this port Alexander Dickey, Commissary of Prisoners, from New York, with a cartel, having on board 180 American prisoners. Their countenances indicate that they have undergone every conceivable inhumanity.”
A Boston newspaper from September 2nd, 1779, reports: “Alexander Dickey, Commissary of Prisoners, has returned to this port from New York with a cartel, carrying 180 American prisoners. Their faces show that they have endured every imaginable cruelty.”
“New London, Sep. 29th 1779. A Flag arrived here from New York with 117 prisoners, chiefly from New England.”
“New London, Sep. 29th 1779. A flag came in from New York with 117 prisoners, mostly from New England.”
From Rivington’s Gazette, March lst, 1780. “Last Saturday afternoon the Good Hope prison ship, lying in the Wallebocht Bay was entirely consumed after having been wilfully set on fire by a Connecticut man named Woodbury, who confessed to the fact. He with others of the incendiaries are removed to the Provost. The prisoners let each other down from the port holes and decks into the water.”
From Rivington’s Gazette, March 1st, 1780. “Last Saturday afternoon, the Good Hope prison ship, docked in Wallebocht Bay, was completely destroyed after being deliberately set on fire by a man from Connecticut named Woodbury, who admitted to the act. He and other arsonists have been taken to the Provost. The prisoners helped each other escape from the portholes and decks into the water.”
So that was the end of the Good Hope. She seems to have been burned by some of the prisoners in utter desperation, probably with some hope that, in the confusion, they might be enabled to escape, though we do not learn that any of them were so fortunate, and the only consequence of the deed appears to have been that the remaining ships were crowded to suffocation.
So that was the end of the Good Hope. It looks like some of the prisoners burned it out of sheer desperation, probably hoping that in the chaos, they might be able to escape. However, we don't find out that any of them were lucky enough to do so, and the only result of the act seems to have been that the remaining ships were packed to the brim.
A writer in the Connecticut Gazette, whose name is not given, says: “May 25th, 1780. I am now a prisoner on board the Falmouth, a place the most dreadful; we are confined so that we have not room even to lie down all at once to sleep. It is the most horrible, cursed, hole that can be thought of. I was sick and longed for some small beer, while I lay unpitied at death’s door, with a putrid fever, and though I had money I was not permitted to send for it. I offered repeatedly a hard dollar for a pint. The wretch who went forward and backward would not oblige me. I am just able to creep about. Four prisoners have escaped from this ship. One having, as by accident, thrown his hat overboard, begged leave to go after it in a small boat, which lay alongside. Having reached the hat they secured the sentinel and made for the Jersey shore, though several armed boats pursued, and shot was fired from the shipping.”
A writer in the Connecticut Gazette, whose name isn’t mentioned, says: “May 25th, 1780. I’m currently a prisoner on the Falmouth, a truly horrific place; we’re crammed in so tightly that we can’t even lie down to sleep all at once. It's the most awful, wretched hole you can imagine. I was sick and longing for some beer while I lay unattended at death's door with a nasty fever, and even though I had money, I wasn't allowed to send for it. I repeatedly offered a dollar for a pint. The jerk who went back and forth wouldn’t help me. I can barely crawl around. Four prisoners managed to escape from this ship. One of them, after accidentally dropping his hat overboard, asked if he could go after it in a small boat that was next to us. After getting to the hat, they subdued the guard and headed for the Jersey shore, even though several armed boats were chasing them, and shots were fired from the ships.”
The New Jersey Gazette of June 4th, 1780, says: “Thirty-five Americans, including five officers, made their escape from the prison ship at New York and got safely off.”
The New Jersey Gazette from June 4th, 1780, states: “Thirty-five Americans, including five officers, escaped from the prison ship in New York and made it to safety.”
“For Sale. The remains of the hospital ship Kitty, as they now lie at the Wallebocht, with launch, anchors, and cables.” Gaine’s Mercury, July 1st, 1780.
“For Sale. The remains of the hospital ship Kitty, as they currently sit at the Wallebocht, along with the launch, anchors, and cables.” Gaine’s Mercury, July 1st, 1780.
New Jersey Gazette, August 23, 1780. “Captain Grumet, who made his escape from the Scorpion prison ship, at New York, on the evening of the 15th, says more lenity is shown the prisoners. There are 200 in the Strombolo, and 120 in the Scorpion.”
New Jersey Gazette, August 23, 1780. “Captain Grumet, who escaped from the Scorpion prison ship in New York on the evening of the 15th, reports that the treatment of prisoners has become more lenient. There are 200 in the Strombolo and 120 in the Scorpion.”
It was in 1780 that the poet Freneau was a prisoner on the Scorpion, which, at that time, was anchored in the East River. In Rivington’s Gazette, at the end of that year, the “hulks of his Majesty’s sloops Scorpion and Hunter” are advertised for sale. Also “the Strombolo fire-ship, now lying in North River.” It appears, however, that there were no purchasers, and they remained unsold. They were still in use until the end of the year 1781. Gaine’s Mercury declares that “the Strombolo, from August 21st to December 10th, 1781, had never less than 150 prisoners on board, oftener over 200.”
It was in 1780 that the poet Freneau was a prisoner on the Scorpion, which was anchored in the East River at that time. In Rivington’s Gazette, at the end of that year, the “hulks of His Majesty’s sloops Scorpion and Hunter” were advertised for sale. Also mentioned was “the Strombolo fire-ship, now lying in the North River.” However, it seems that there were no buyers, and they remained unsold. They continued to be in use until the end of 1781. Gaine’s Mercury states that “the Strombolo, from August 21st to December 10th, 1781, had never fewer than 150 prisoners on board, and often had over 200.”
“Captain Cahoon with four others escaped from a prison ship to Long Island in a boat, March 8, notwithstanding they were fired on from the prison and hospital ships, and pursued by guard boats from three in the afternoon to seven in the evening. He left 200 prisoners in New York.” Connecticut Journal, March 22, 1781.
“Captain Cahoon and four others escaped from a prison ship to Long Island in a boat on March 8, despite being shot at from the prison and hospital ships, and chased by guard boats from 3 PM to 7 PM. He left behind 200 prisoners in New York.” Connecticut Journal, March 22, 1781.
The Connecticut Gazette, in May, 1781, stated that 1100 French and American prisoners had died during the winter in the prison ships. “New London, November 17th, 1781. A Flag of truce returned here from New York with 132 prisoners, with the rest of those carried off by Arnold. They are chiefly from the prison ships, and some from the Sugar House, and are mostly sick.”
The Connecticut Gazette, in May 1781, reported that 1,100 French and American prisoners had died over the winter on the prison ships. “New London, November 17, 1781. A flag of truce returned here from New York with 132 prisoners, the remainder of those taken by Arnold. They mainly come from the prison ships, some from the Sugar House, and most are in poor health.”
“New London, Jan. 4th, 1782. 130 prisoners landed here from New York December third, in most deplorable condition. A great part are since dead, and the survivors so debilitated that they will drag out a miserable existence. It is enough to melt the most obdurate heart to see these miserable objects landed at our wharves sick and dying, and the few rags they have on covered with vermin and their own excrements.”
“New London, Jan. 4th, 1782. 130 prisoners arrived here from New York on December 3rd, in terrible condition. Many have since died, and the survivors are so weak that they will live a painful existence. It’s enough to break even the hardest of hearts to see these unfortunate individuals brought to our docks sick and dying, with only a few rags on them, covered in bugs and their own waste.”
CHAPTER XXII. — THE JOURNAL OF DR. ELIAS CORNELIUS—BRITISH PRISONS IN THE SOUTH
We must now conduct our readers back to the Provost Prison in New York, where, for some time, Colonel Ethan Allen was incarcerated. Dr. Elias Cornelius, a surgeon’s mate, was taken prisoner by the British on the 22nd of August, 1777. On that day he had ridden to the enemy’s advanced post to make observations, voluntarily accompanying a scouting party. On his way back he was surprised, over-powered, and captured by a party of British soldiers.
We need to take our readers back to the Provost Prison in New York, where Colonel Ethan Allen was held for a while. Dr. Elias Cornelius, a surgeon's assistant, was captured by the British on August 22, 1777. That day, he rode to the enemy's front lines to gather intelligence, willingly joining a scouting party. On his way back, he was caught off guard, overpowered, and captured by a group of British soldiers.
This was at East Chester. He seems to have lagged behind the rest of the party, and thus describes the occurrence: “On riding into town (East Chester) four men started from behind a shed and took me prisoner. They immediately began robbing me of everything I had, horse and harness, pistols, Great Coat, shoe-buckles, pocket book, which contained over thirty pounds, and other things. The leader of the guard abused me very much. * * * When we arrived at King’s Bridge I was put under the Provost Guard, with a man named Prichard and several other prisoners.” They were kept at the guard house there for some time, and regaled with mouldy bread, rum and water, and sour apples, which were thrown down for them to scramble for, as if they were so many pigs. They were at last marched to New York. Just before reaching that city they were carried before a Hessian general to be “made a show of.” The Hessians mocked them, told them they were all to be hung, and even went so far as to draw their swords across their throats. But a Hessian surgeon’s mate took pity on Cornelius, and gave him a glass of wine.
This happened in East Chester. He seems to have fallen behind the rest of the group and described the event like this: “As I was riding into town (East Chester), four men jumped out from behind a shed and captured me. They immediately started stealing everything I had—my horse and harness, my pistols, my great coat, my shoe buckles, my wallet, which had over thirty pounds in it, and other belongings. The leader of the group treated me very badly. * * * When we got to King’s Bridge, I was placed under the Provost Guard, along with a guy named Prichard and several other prisoners.” They were kept at the guardhouse for a while and were given moldy bread, rum and water, and sour apples, which were tossed down for them to scramble for, like pigs. Eventually, they were marched to New York. Just before reaching the city, they were brought before a Hessian general to be “made a spectacle of.” The Hessians ridiculed them, told them they were all going to be hanged, and even went so far as to draw their swords across their throats. But a Hessian surgeon’s assistant took pity on Cornelius and offered him a glass of wine.
On the march to New York in the hot summer afternoon they were not allowed to stop even for a drink of water. Cornelius was in a fainting condition, when a poor woman, compassionating his sad plight, asked to be allowed to give them some water. They were then about four miles from New York. She ran into her house and brought out several pails of beer, three or four loaves of bread, two or three pounds of cheese, and besides all this, she gave money to some of the prisoners. Her name was Mrs. Clemons. She was from Boston and kept a small store along the road to New York.
On the way to New York in the hot summer afternoon, they weren't allowed to stop even for a drink of water. Cornelius was about to faint when a kind woman, feeling sorry for his situation, asked if she could give them some water. They were about four miles from New York at that point. She ran into her house and came back with several pails of beer, three or four loaves of bread, two or three pounds of cheese, and on top of that, she gave money to some of the prisoners. Her name was Mrs. Clemons. She was from Boston and ran a small store along the road to New York.
Cornelius says: “We marched till we come to the Bowery, three quarters of a mile from New York. * * * As we come into town, Hessians, Negroes, and children insulted, stoned, and abused us. * * * In this way we were led through half the streets as a show. * * * At last we were ordered to the Sugar House, which formerly went by the name of Livingstone’s Sugar House. Here one Walley, a Sergeant of the 20th Regiment of Irish traitors in the British service, had the charge of the prisoners. This man was the most barbarous, cruel man that ever I saw. He drove us into the yard like so many hogs. From there he ordered us into the Sugar House, which was the dirtiest and most disagreeable place that I ever saw, and the water in the pump was not better than that in the docks. The top of the house was open * * * to the weather, so that when it rained the water ran through every floor, and it was impossible for us to keep dry. Mr. Walley gave thirteen of us four pounds of mouldy bread and four pounds of poor Irish pork for four days. I asked Mr Walley if I was not to have my parole. He answered ‘No!’ When I asked for pen and ink to write a few lines to my father, he struck me across the face with a staff which I have seen him beat the prisoners.” (with)
Cornelius says: “We marched until we reached the Bowery, three-quarters of a mile from New York. * * * As we entered the town, Hessians, Black people, and children insulted, threw stones at, and abused us. * * * This way, we were paraded through half the streets. * * * Finally, we were ordered to the Sugar House, which used to be called Livingstone’s Sugar House. Here, a guy named Walley, a Sergeant of the 20th Regiment of Irish traitors in the British service, was in charge of the prisoners. This man was the most brutal, cruel person I ever saw. He herded us into the yard like a bunch of hogs. From there, he ordered us into the Sugar House, which was the dirtiest, most unpleasant place I ever encountered, and the water from the pump was no better than the water in the docks. The top of the building was open * * * to the weather, so when it rained, water poured through every floor, and it was impossible for us to stay dry. Mr. Walley gave thirteen of us four pounds of moldy bread and four pounds of bad Irish pork for four days. I asked Mr. Walley if I would get my parole. He replied ‘No!’ When I asked for pen and ink to write a few lines to my father, he hit me across the face with a stick that I saw him use to beat the prisoners.”
On the next morning Cornelius was conveyed to the Provost Guard. “I was then taken down to a Dungeon. The provost marshal was Sergeant Keith” (Cunningham appears to have been, at this time, murdering the unfortunate prisoners in his power at Philadelphia).
On the next morning, Cornelius was taken to the Provost Guard. “I was then brought down to a dungeon. The provost marshal was Sergeant Keith” (Cunningham seems to have been, at this time, killing the unfortunate prisoners he had control over in Philadelphia).
“There was in this place a Captain Travis of Virginia, and Captain of a sloop of war. There were also in this dismal place nine thieves, murderers, etc. A Captain Chatham was taken sick with nervous fever. I requested the Sergeant to suffer me to send for some medicine, or I believed he might die, to which he replied he might die, and if he did he would bury him.
“There was a Captain Travis from Virginia, who was in charge of a war sloop. In this gloomy place, there were also nine thieves, murderers, and others. Captain Chatham fell ill with a nervous fever. I asked the Sergeant if I could send for some medicine, or I was afraid he might die. The Sergeant replied that if he did die, he would bury him.”
“All the provisions each man had was but two pounds meat and two pounds bread for a week, always one and sometimes both was not fit to eat. * * * I had no change of linen from the 25th of August to the 12th of September.”
“All the supplies each man received was just two pounds of meat and two pounds of bread for the week, and often one or both were not fit to eat. * * * I didn’t have a change of clothes from August 25th to September 12th.”
It seems that the father of Cornelius, who lived on Long Island, was an ardent Tory. Cornelius asked Sergeant O’Keefe to be allowed to send to his father for money and clothing. But this was refused. “In this hideous place,” he continues, “I was kept until the 20th of September; when Sergeant Keath took Captains C., and Travis, and myself, and led us to the upper part of the prison, where were Ethan Allen, Major Williams, Paine and Wells and others. Major Williams belonged at Maryland and was taken prisoner at Fort Washington. * * *
It seems that Cornelius's father, who lived on Long Island, was a strong Tory. Cornelius asked Sergeant O’Keefe if he could send a request to his father for money and clothes, but that was denied. “In this horrible place,” he goes on, “I was kept until September 20th; when Sergeant Keath took Captain C., Travis, and me, and led us to the upper part of the prison, where Ethan Allen, Major Williams, Paine, Wells, and others were. Major Williams was from Maryland and was taken prisoner at Fort Washington. * * *
“While at this place we were not allowed to speak to any friend, not even out of the window. I have frequently seen women beaten with canes and ram-rods who have come to the prisons’ windows to speak to their Husbands, Sons, or Brothers, and officers put in the dungeon just for asking for cold water.”
“While we were here, we weren't allowed to talk to any friends, not even from the window. I've often seen women beaten with canes and rods for trying to speak to their husbands, sons, or brothers at the prison windows, and officers thrown in the dungeon just for asking for cold water.”
Dried peas were given out to the prisoners, without the means of cooking them.
Dried peas were handed out to the prisoners, with no way to cook them.
When Fort Montgomery was taken by the British the American officers who had been in command at that post were brought to the Provost and put into two small rooms on the lower floor. Some of them were badly wounded, but no surgeon was allowed to dress their wounds. Cornelius asked permission to do so, but this was refused. “All of us in the upper prison,” he continues, “were sometimes allowed to go on top of the house. I took this opportunity to throw some Ointment and Lint down the chimney to the wounded in the lower rooms with directions how to use it. I knew only one of them—Lt. Col. Livingstone.”
When the British captured Fort Montgomery, the American officers in charge there were taken to the Provost and placed in two small rooms on the lower floor. Some of them were seriously injured, but no surgeon was allowed to treat their wounds. Cornelius asked for permission to help, but it was denied. “All of us in the upper prison,” he continues, “were sometimes allowed to go on the roof of the house. I took this chance to throw some ointment and lint down the chimney to the wounded in the lower rooms, along with instructions on how to use it. I only knew one of them—Lt. Col. Livingstone.”
At the time of Burgoyne’s surrender a rumor of the event reached the prisoners, and women passing along the street made signs to assure them that that general was really a captive. Colonel Livingstone received a letter from his father giving an account of Burgoyne’s surrender. “Soon we heard hollooing and other expressions of joy from him and others in the (lower) rooms. * * * He put the letter up through a crack in the floor for us to read. * * * The whole prison was filled with joy inexpressible. * * * From this time we were better treated, although the provision was bad, but we drew rather larger quantities of it. Some butter, and about a gill of rice and some cole were dealt out to us, which we never drew before.
At the time of Burgoyne's surrender, news of the event reached the prisoners, and women walking down the street signaled to assure them that the general was indeed a captive. Colonel Livingstone received a letter from his father detailing Burgoyne's surrender. “Soon we heard cheering and other expressions of joy from him and others in the lower rooms. * * * He slipped the letter up through a crack in the floor for us to read. * * * The entire prison was filled with overwhelming joy. * * * From that point on, we were treated better, although the food was still poor, but we got slightly larger portions of it. We were given some butter, about a gill of rice, and some cole, which we had never received before.
“About this time my father came to see me. I was called down to the grates. My heart at first was troubled within me; I burst into tears, and did not speak for some minutes. I put my hand through the grates, and took my father’s and held it fast. The poor old gentleman shed many tears, and seemed much troubled to see me in so woeful a place. * * * He asked me what I thought of myself now, and why I could not have been ruled by him. * * * Soon the Provost Marshal came and said he could not allow my father to stay longer.
"Around this time, my father came to visit me. I was called down to the grates. At first, my heart was heavy; I broke down in tears and couldn’t say anything for a few minutes. I reached my hand through the grates, took my father’s, and held it tightly. The poor old man cried a lot and seemed really upset to see me in such a sad place. * * * He asked me what I thought of myself now and why I hadn’t followed his guidance. * * * Soon, the Provost Marshal came and said he couldn’t let my father stay any longer."
“* * * Toward the latter part of December we had Continental bread and beef sent us, and as much wood as we wished to burn. A friend gave me some money which was very useful.
“* * * Toward the end of December, we had Continental bread and beef delivered to us, along with as much wood as we wanted to burn. A friend gave me some money, which came in really handy.
“Jan. 9th, 1778. This day Mr. Walley came and took from the prison myself and six others under guard to the Sugar House. * * * At this time my health was bad, being troubled with the scurvy, and my prospects for the winter were dark.”
“Jan. 9th, 1778. Today Mr. Walley came and took me and six others from prison under guard to the Sugar House. * * * At this time, I was not feeling well, dealing with scurvy, and my outlook for the winter was bleak.”
He describes the Sugar House as a dreadful place of torment, and says that thirty disorderly men were allowed to steal from the other prisoners the few comforts they possessed. They would even take the sick out of their beds, steal their bedding, and beat and kick the wretched sufferers. The articles thus procured they would sell to Mr. Walley (or Woolley) for rum.
He describes the Sugar House as a terrible place of suffering and says that thirty unruly men were allowed to steal the few comforts the other prisoners had. They would even drag the sick from their beds, take their bedding, and beat and kick the unfortunate victims. The items they obtained this way were sold to Mr. Walley (or Woolley) for rum.
On the 13th of January Cornelius was sent to the hospital. The Brick Meeting House was used for the sick among the prisoners.
On January 13th, Cornelius was taken to the hospital. The Brick Meeting House was used for sick prisoners.
“Here,” he continues, “I stayed until the 16th. I was not much better than I was in the Sugar House, no medicine was given me, though I had a cough and a fever. The Surgeon wished me as soon as I got better to take the care of the sick, provided I could get my parole.
“Here,” he continues, “I stayed until the 16th. I wasn't much better than I was in the Sugar House; no medicine was given to me, even though I had a cough and a fever. The Surgeon wanted me to take care of the sick as soon as I got better, assuming I could get my parole.”
“Jan. 16th. On coming next morning he (the surgeon) said he could get my parole. I was now determined to make my escape, though hardly able to undertake it. Just at dusk, having made the Sentinel intoxicated, I with others, went out into the backyard to endeavor to escape over the fence. The others being backward about going first, I climbed upon a tombstone and gave a spring, and went over safe, and then gave orders for the others to do so also. A little Irish lad undertook to leap over, and caught his clothes in the spikes on the wall, and made something of a noise. The sentinel being aroused called out ‘Rouse!’ which is the same as to command the guards to turn out. They were soon out and surrounded the prison. In the mean time I had made my way to St. Paul’s Church, which was the wrong way to get out of town.
“Jan. 16th. The next morning, the surgeon told me he could get my release. I was now set on escaping, even though I was barely able to do it. Just at dusk, after getting the Sentinel drunk, I and some others went out into the backyard to try to climb over the fence. Since the others were hesitant to go first, I climbed onto a tombstone, took a leap, and made it over safely. Then I urged the others to follow suit. A little Irish kid tried to jump over but got his clothes caught on the spikes of the wall, making a bit of a noise. The Sentinel, hearing this, called out ‘Rouse!’ which meant he was ordering the guards to wake up. They quickly came out and surrounded the prison. In the meantime, I had managed to make my way to St. Paul’s Church, which was the wrong direction to get out of town.”
“The guards, expecting that I had gone towards North River, went in that direction. On arriving at the Church I turned into the street to go by the College and thus go out of town by the side of the river. Soon after I was out of town I heard the eight o’clock gun, which * * * was the signal for the sentinels to hail every man that came by. I wished much to cross the river, but could not find any boat suitable. While going along up the side of the river at 9 P.M., I was challenged by a sentinel with the usual word (Burdon), upon which I answered nothing, and on being challenged the second time I answered ‘Friend.’ He bade me advance and give the countersign, upon which I fancied (pretended) I was drunk, and advanced in a staggering manner, and after falling to the ground he asked me where I was going. I told him ‘Home,’ but that I had got lost, and having been to New York had taken rather too much liquor, and become somewhat intoxicated. He then asked me my name which I told him was Matthew Hoppen. Mr. Hoppen lived not far distant. I solicited him to put me in the right direction, but he told me I must not go until the Sergeant of the guard dismissed me from him, unless I could give him the countersign. I still entreated him to let me go. Soon he consented and directed my course, which I thanked him for. Soon the moon arose and made it very light, and there being snow on the ground, crusted over, and no wind, therefore a person walking could be heard a great distance.
The guards, thinking I had headed toward North River, went that way. When I reached the Church, I turned onto the street to pass by the College and leave town along the riverbank. Shortly after I was out of town, I heard the eight o’clock gun, which signaled for the sentinels to challenge every person who passed by. I really wanted to cross the river, but I couldn’t find a suitable boat. As I walked along the riverbank at 9 P.M., a sentinel challenged me with the usual word (Burdon), to which I didn’t respond, and when challenged a second time, I replied ‘Friend.’ He told me to come forward and give the countersign, so I pretended I was drunk and advanced in a staggering manner. After falling to the ground, he asked where I was going. I said ‘Home,’ but that I had gotten lost and had a bit too much to drink after being in New York. He then asked my name, which I gave as Matthew Hoppen. Mr. Hoppen lived nearby. I asked him to help me find the right direction, but he said I couldn’t leave until the Sergeant of the guard dismissed me or I could provide the countersign. I continued to urge him to let me go. Eventually, he agreed and pointed me in the right direction, for which I thanked him. Soon the moon rose, making it very bright, and with snow on the ground, hard crusted, and no wind, a person walking could be heard from quite a distance.
“At this time the tumor in my lungs broke, and being afraid to cough for fear of being heard, prevented me from relieving myself of the pus that was lodged there.
“At this point, the tumor in my lungs burst, and I was so afraid to cough for fear of being heard that I couldn’t relieve myself of the pus stuck in there."
“I had now to cross lots that were cleared and covered with snow, the houses being thick on the road which I was to cross, and for fear of being heard I lay myself flat on my stomach and crept along on the frozen snow. When I come to the fence I climbed over, and walked down the road, near a house where there was music and dancing. At this time one of the guards came out. I immediately fell down upon my face. Soon the man went into the house. I rose again, and crossed the fence into the field, and proceeded towards the river. There being no trees or rocks to prevent my being seen, and not being able to walk without being heard, and the dogs beginning to bark, I lay myself down flat again, and crept across the field, which took me half an hour. I at length reached the river and walked by the side of it some distance, and saw a small creek which ran up into the island, and by the side of it a small house, and two Sentinels one on each side of it. Not knowing what to do I crept into a hole in the bank which led in between two rocks. Here I heard them talk. I concluded to endeavor to go around the head of the creek, which was about half a mile, but on getting out of the hole I took hold of the limb of a tree which gave way, and made a great noise. The sentinel, on hearing it said, ‘Did you not hear a person on the creek?’
"I had to cross open fields that were cleared and covered with snow, with houses close along the road I needed to cross. To avoid being heard, I lay flat on my stomach and crawled on the frozen snow. When I reached the fence, I climbed over it and walked down the road near a house where there was music and dancing. Just then, one of the guards came out. I quickly fell down on my face. Soon, the man went back into the house. I got up again, crossed the fence into the field, and headed toward the river. With no trees or rocks to hide me, and being unable to walk without making noise, and with dogs starting to bark, I lay down flat again and crawled across the field, which took me about half an hour. Eventually, I reached the river and walked along it for a bit when I saw a small creek that led into the island, with a little house beside it and two sentinels, one on each side. Not sure what to do, I crawled into a hole in the bank that went in between two rocks. Here, I could hear them talking. I decided to try to go around the head of the creek, which was about half a mile away, but as I crawled out of the hole, I grabbed onto a tree limb that gave way and made a loud noise. The sentinel, hearing it, said, 'Did you not hear someone by the creek?'"
“I waited some minutes and then went around the head of the creek and came down the river on the other side to see if I could not find a boat to cross to Long Island. But on finding sentinels near by I retreated a short distance back, and went up the river. I had not gone more than thirty rods when I saw another sentinel posted on the bank of the river where I must pass. * * * I stood some time thinking what course to pursue, but on looking at the man found he did not move and was leaning on his gun. I succeeded in passing by without waking him up. After this I found a Sentinel every fifteen or twenty rods until I came within two miles of Hell Gate. Here I stayed until my feet began to freeze, and having nothing to eat I went a mile further up the river. It now being late I crept into the bushes and lay down to think what to do next. I concluded to remain where I was during the night, and early in the morning to go down to New York and endeavor to find some house to conceal myself in.
"I waited for a few minutes and then walked around the bend of the creek and came down the river on the other side to see if I could find a boat to cross to Long Island. But when I spotted some guards nearby, I stepped back for a bit and headed up the river. I hadn’t gone more than thirty rods when I saw another guard standing on the riverbank where I needed to pass. * * * I stood there for a moment, wondering what to do, but when I looked at him, I noticed he wasn’t moving and was leaning on his gun. I managed to sneak by without waking him up. After that, I encountered a guard every fifteen or twenty rods until I got within two miles of Hell Gate. I stayed here until my feet started to freeze, and since I had nothing to eat, I went another mile up the river. As it was getting late, I crawled into the bushes and lay down to think about my next move. I decided to stay where I was for the night and early in the morning, head down to New York to try to find a place to hide."
“In the morning as soon as the Revelry Beating commenced I went on my way to New York which was eight miles from this place. After proceeding awhile I heard the morning guns fired from New York, though I was four miles from it. I passed the sentinels unmolested down the middle of the road, and arrived there before many were up. I met many British and Hessian soldiers whom I knew very well, but they did not know me.
“In the morning, as soon as the Revelry Beating started, I headed to New York, which was eight miles away from here. After traveling for a bit, I heard the morning cannons being fired from New York, even though I was four miles away. I walked past the guards without any issues down the center of the road and got there before many people were awake. I encountered several British and Hessian soldiers I knew very well, but they didn’t recognize me.”
“I went to a house, and found them friends of America, and was kindly received of them, and (they) promised to keep me a few days.
“I visited a house and found friends of America there. They welcomed me warmly and promised to host me for a few days.”
“I had not been here but three quarters of an hour when I was obliged to call for a bed. After being in bed two or three hours I was taken with a stoppage in my breast, and made my resperation difficult, and still being afraid to cough loud for fear of being heard. The good lady of the house gave me some medicine of my own prescribing, which soon gave me relief. Soon after a rumor spread about town among the friends of America of my confinement, and expecting soon to be retaken, they took measures to have me conveyed to Long Island, which was accordingly done.
“I had only been here for about three quarters of an hour when I had to ask for a bed. After being in bed for two or three hours, I started experiencing tightness in my chest, making it hard to breathe, and I was still afraid to cough loudly for fear of being heard. The kind lady of the house gave me some medicine that I had suggested, which soon brought me relief. Shortly after, a rumor spread around town among my friends who supported America about my confinement, and fearing that I would be captured again, they arranged for me to be taken to Long Island, which happened as planned.”
“Feb. 18th, 1778. The same day I was landed I walked nine miles, and put up at a friend’s house, during my walk I passed my Grandfather’s house, and dare not go in for fear he would deliver me up to the British. Next morning I started on my journey again, and reached the place I intended at 12 o’clock, and put up with two friends. The next morning I and two companions started from our friends with four days provisions, and shovels and axes to build us a hut in the woods. We each of us had a musket, powder, and balls. After going two miles in the woods we dug away the snow and made us a fire. After warming ourselves we set to work to build ourselves a hut; and got one side of it done the first day, and the next we finished it. It was tolerably comfortable. We kept large fires, and cooked our meat on the coals. In eight or ten days we had some provisions brought us by our friends. At this time we heard that Captain Rogers was cast away on Long Island, and concealed by some of his friends. We went to see him, and found him. We attempted to stay in the house in a back room. At about ten A. M. there came in a Tory, he knowing some of us seemed much troubled. We made him promise that he would not make known our escape. The next day our two comrades went back to their old quarters, and Captain Rogers and myself and a friend went into the woods and built us a hut, about ten miles from my former companions, with whom we kept up a constant correspondence. Soon a man was brought to us by our friends, whom we found to be John Rolston, a man who was confined in the Provost Jail with us, and was carried to the Hospital about three weeks after I was, and made his escape the same way, and by friends was brought to Long Island.
“Feb. 18, 1778. The day I arrived, I walked nine miles and stayed at a friend’s house. During my walk, I passed my grandfather's house but didn’t go inside, afraid he would hand me over to the British. The next morning, I continued my journey and reached my destination by noon, where I stayed with two friends. The following morning, my two companions and I left our friends with four days’ worth of supplies, shovels, and axes to build a hut in the woods. Each of us carried a musket, powder, and ammunition. After walking two miles into the woods, we cleared away the snow and made a fire. Once we warmed up, we started building the hut and managed to finish one side by the end of the first day, completing it the next day. It was reasonably comfortable. We built large fires and cooked our meat over the coals. After about eight to ten days, some provisions were brought to us by our friends. At that time, we learned that Captain Rogers had been shipwrecked on Long Island and was hiding with some friends. We went to see him and found him. We tried to stay in the house in a back room. Around 10 A.M., a Loyalist came in, and since he knew some of us, he looked very worried. We made him promise not to reveal our escape. The next day, our two friends returned to their old quarters, while Captain Rogers, a friend, and I went into the woods and built another hut about ten miles from my previous companions, with whom we maintained constant communication. Soon, a man was brought to us by our friends, and we discovered he was John Rolston, who had been held in the Provost Jail with us. He had been taken to the hospital about three weeks after I was and made his escape the same way, eventually being brought to Long Island by friends.”
“March 19th, 1778. About 5 o’clock a friend came to us and and said we had an opportunity to go over to New England in a boat that had just landed with four Tories, that had stolen the boat at Fairfield, Conn. We immediately sent word to our two friends with whom I first helped to build a hut, but they could not be found. At sunset those that came in the boat went off, and some of our friends guided us through the woods to the boat, taking two oars with us, for fear we should not find any in the boat. On arrival at the place our kind friends helped us off. We rowed very fast till we were a great distance from land. The moon rose soon, and the wind being fair we arrived we knew not where, about a half hour before day. We went on shore, and soon found it was Norwalk, Conn. We had bade farewell to Long Island, for the present, upon which I composed the following lines:—
“March 19th, 1778. Around 5 o’clock, a friend came to us and said we had a chance to go over to New England in a boat that had just landed with four Tories who had stolen the boat at Fairfield, Conn. We immediately sent word to our two friends with whom I first helped build a hut, but they couldn’t be found. At sunset, the people who came in the boat left, and some of our friends guided us through the woods to the boat, taking two oars with us, just in case we didn’t find any in the boat. When we got to the spot, our kind friends helped us off. We rowed very fast until we were far from land. The moon rose soon, and since the wind was in our favor, we arrived—we didn’t know where—about half an hour before day. We went ashore and quickly realized it was Norwalk, Conn. We had said farewell to Long Island, for now, and I composed the following lines:—”
“O fair you well, once happy land,
Where peace and plenty dwelt,
But now oppressed by tyrants’ hands,
Where naught but fury’s felt
“Behold I leave you for awhile,
To mourn for all your sons,
Who daily bleed that you may smile
When we’ve your freedom won
“Oh, goodbye, once joyful land,
Where peace and plenty thrived,
But now crushed by tyrants’ rule,
Where only anger survives.
“Look, I leave you for a while,
To grieve for all your sons,
Who bleed each day so you can smile
When we’ve finally won your freedom.“After being rested, just as the day began to dawn, we walked to a place called the Old Mill, where we found a guard (American) who hailed us at a distance, and on coming up to him kindly received us, and invited us to his house to warm us. This being done we went home with Captain Rodgers, for he lived in Norwalk. Here we went to bed at sunrise, and stayed till 10 o’clock. After dinner we took leave of Captain Rodgers and started for head-quarters in Pennsylvania, where the grand Army was at that time. In seven days we arrived at Valley Forge.
“After resting, just as the day began to break, we walked to a place called the Old Mill, where we met a guard (American) who called out to us from a distance. When we approached him, he welcomed us warmly and invited us to his home to warm up. After that, we went home with Captain Rodgers, since he lived in Norwalk. We went to bed at sunrise and slept until 10 o’clock. After lunch, we said goodbye to Captain Rodgers and set off for headquarters in Pennsylvania, where the grand Army was stationed at the time. Seven days later, we arrived at Valley Forge.”
“Elias Cornelius.”
"Elias Cornelius."
This portion of the journal of Dr. Cornelius was published in the Putnam County Republican, in 1895, with a short account of the author.
This section of Dr. Cornelius's journal was published in the Putnam County Republican in 1895, along with a brief biography of the author.
Dr. Cornelius was born on Long Island in 1758, and was just twenty at the time of his capture. His ancestors came from Holland. They were of good birth, and brought a seal bearing their coat of arms to this country. On the 15th of April, 1777, he was appointed surgeon’s mate to the Second Regiment of Rhode Island troops under Colonel Israel Angell.
Dr. Cornelius was born on Long Island in 1758 and was only twenty when he was captured. His family came from Holland and had a noble background, bringing a seal with their coat of arms to this country. On April 15, 1777, he was appointed as the surgeon’s mate to the Second Regiment of Rhode Island troops under Colonel Israel Angell.
The article in the Republican gives a description of Cunningham and the Provost which we do not quote in full, as it contains little that is new. It says, however that “While Cunningham’s victims were dying off from cold and starvation like cattle, he is said to have actually mingled an arsenical preparation with the food to make them die the quicker. It is recorded that he boasted that he had killed more rebels with his own hand than had been slain by all the King’s forces in America.”
The article in the Republican provides a description of Cunningham and the Provost that we won't quote in full, as it doesn't add much that’s new. It does mention, however, that “While Cunningham’s victims were dying from cold and starvation like cattle, he allegedly mixed an arsenic-based substance with their food to speed up their deaths. It’s noted that he bragged about having killed more rebels himself than all the King’s forces combined in America.”
Cornelius continued in the Continental service until January 1st, 1781, and received an honorable discharge. After the war he settled at Yorktown, Westchester County, and came to be known as the “beloved physician.” He was very gentle and kind, and a great Presbyterian. He died in 1823, and left descendants, one of whom is Judge C. M. Tompkins, of Washington, D. C.
Cornelius remained in the Continental service until January 1, 1781, and received an honorable discharge. After the war, he settled in Yorktown, Westchester County, and became known as the “beloved physician.” He was very gentle and kind and a devoted Presbyterian. He passed away in 1823, leaving behind descendants, one of whom is Judge C. M. Tompkins of Washington, D.C.
As we have seen, Cunningham was not always in charge of the Provost. It appears that, during his absence in Philadelphia and other places, where he spread death and destruction, he left Sergeant O’Keefe, almost as great a villian as himself, in charge of the hapless prisoners in New York. It is to be hoped that his boast that he had killed more Americans than all the King’s forces is an exaggeration. It may, however, be true that in the years 1776 and 1777 he destroyed more American soldiers than had, at that time, fallen on the field of battle.
As we've seen, Cunningham wasn't always in charge of the Provost. It seems that during his time away in Philadelphia and other locations, where he caused death and destruction, he left Sergeant O’Keefe—almost as much of a villain as him—in charge of the unfortunate prisoners in New York. Hopefully, his claim that he killed more Americans than all of the King’s forces is an exaggeration. However, it might be true that in 1776 and 1777 he caused more American soldiers' deaths than had been lost in battle up to that point.
When an old building that had been used as a prison near the City Hall was torn down a few years ago to make way for the Subway Station of the Brooklyn Bridge, a great number of skeletons were found in its cellars. That these men starved to death or came to their end by violence cannot be doubted. New York, at the time of the Revolution, extended to about three-quarters of a mile from the Battery, its suburbs lying around what is now Fulton Street. Cornelius speaks of the Bowery as about three-quarters of a mile from New York! “St. Paul’s Church,” says Mr. Haltigan, in his very readable book called “The Irish in the American Revolution,” “where Washington attended divine service, is now the only building standing that existed in those days, and that is a veritable monument to Irish and American patriotism. * * * On the Boston Post Road, where it crossed a brook in the vicinity of Fifty-Second street and Second avenue, then called Beekman’s Hill, William Beekman had an extensive country house. During the Revolution this house was the British headquarters, and residence of Sir William Howe, where Nathan Hale was condemned to death, and where Major Andrè received his last instructions before going on his ill-fated mission to the traitor Arnold.”
When an old building that had been used as a prison near City Hall was demolished a few years ago to make room for the Subway Station of the Brooklyn Bridge, a large number of skeletons were discovered in its cellars. There's no doubt that these men either starved to death or met violent ends. At the time of the Revolution, New York stretched about three-quarters of a mile from the Battery, with its suburbs around what is now Fulton Street. Cornelius mentions the Bowery as being approximately three-quarters of a mile from New York! “St. Paul’s Church,” says Mr. Haltigan in his very engaging book titled “The Irish in the American Revolution,” “is now the only surviving building from that era, serving as a true monument to Irish and American patriotism. * * * On the Boston Post Road, where it crossed a creek near Fifty-Second Street and Second Avenue, which was then called Beekman’s Hill, William Beekman had a large country house. During the Revolution, this house was the British headquarters and the residence of Sir William Howe, where Nathan Hale was sentenced to death, and where Major André got his final instructions before heading off on his doomed mission to the traitor Arnold.”
Lossing tells us of the imprisonment of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, in the following language: “Suffering and woe held terrible sway after Cornwallis and his army swept over the plains of New Jersey. Like others of the signers of the great Declaration, Richard Stockton was marked for peculiar vengeance by the enemy. So suddenly did the flying Americans pass by in the autumn of 1776, and so soon were the Hessian vultures and their British companions on the trail, that he had barely time to remove his family to a place of safety before his beautiful mansion was filled with rude soldiery. The house was pillaged, the horses and stock were driven away, the furniture was converted into fuel, the choice old wines in the cellar were drunk, the valuable library, and all the papers of Mr. Stockton were committed to the flames, and the estate was laid waste. Mr. Stockton’s place of concealment was discovered by a party of loyalists, who entered the house at night, dragged him from his bed, and treating him with every indignity that malice could invent, hurried him to New York, where he was confined in the loathsome Provost Jail and treated with the utmost cruelty. When, through the interposition of Congress he was released, his constitution was hopelessly shattered, and he did not live to see the independence of his country achieved. He died at his home at Princeton, in February, 1781, blessed to the last with the tender and affectionate attentions of his noble wife.”
Lossing shares the story of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence who was imprisoned: “After Cornwallis and his army invaded the plains of New Jersey, suffering and despair took a heavy toll. Like other signers of the great Declaration, Richard Stockton was targeted for special retribution by the enemy. The American forces retreated so quickly in the fall of 1776, and the Hessian soldiers and their British allies followed so closely, that he barely had time to move his family to safety before his beautiful home was overrun by rough soldiers. The house was looted, the horses and livestock were taken, the furniture was burned for firewood, the fine old wines in the cellar were consumed, his valuable library and all his papers were thrown into the flames, and his estate was ruined. Mr. Stockton’s hiding place was discovered by a group of loyalists, who broke into his house at night, dragged him from his bed, and subjected him to every cruelty they could think of, before taking him to New York, where he was locked up in the filthy Provost Jail and treated with extreme brutality. When Congress intervened and secured his release, his health was irreparably damaged, and he did not live to see his country gain independence. He died at his home in Princeton in February 1781, surrounded until the end by the loving attentions of his devoted wife.”
We have gathered very little information about the British prisons in the south, but that little shall be laid before the reader. It repeats the same sad story of suffering and death of hundreds of martyrs to the cause of liberty, and of terrible cruelty on the part of the English as long as they were victorious.
We have collected very little information about the British prisons in the south, but what we do have will be shared with the reader. It tells the same tragic story of the suffering and deaths of hundreds of martyrs for the cause of freedom, and of the horrific cruelty from the English while they were in power.
Mr. Haltigan tells of the “tender mercies” of Cornwallis at the south in the following words: “Cornwallis was even more cruel than Clinton, and more flagrant in his violations of the conditions of capitulation. After the fall of Charleston the real misery of the inhabitants began. Every stipulation made by Sir Henry Clinton for their welfare was not only grossly violated, but he sent out expeditions in various sections to plunder and kill the inhabitants, and scourge the country generally. One of these under Tarleton surprised Colonel Buford and his Virginia regiment at Waxhaw, N. C., and while negotiations were pending for a surrender, the Americans, without notice, were suddenly attacked and massacred in cold blood. Colonel Buford and one hundred of his men saved themselves only by flight. Though the rest sued for quarter, one hundred and thirteen of them were killed on the spot, and one hundred and fifty more were so badly hacked by Tarleton’s dragoons that they could not be removed. Only fifty-three out of the entire regiment were spared and taken prisoners. ‘Tarleton’s quarter’ thereafter became the synonym for barbarity. * * * Feeling the silent influence of the eminent citizens under parole in Charleston, Cornwallis resolved to expatriate them to Florida.
Mr. Haltigan talks about the "tender mercies" of Cornwallis in the south with the following words: “Cornwallis was even more brutal than Clinton and more blatant in ignoring the terms of surrender. After Charleston fell, the true suffering of the residents began. Every promise made by Sir Henry Clinton for their welfare was not only grossly disregarded, but he also launched expeditions in different areas to loot and kill the residents, devastating the countryside. One of these expeditions, led by Tarleton, ambushed Colonel Buford and his Virginia regiment at Waxhaw, N.C., and while surrender negotiations were in progress, the Americans were unexpectedly attacked and murdered in cold blood. Colonel Buford and one hundred of his men only escaped by fleeing. Although the rest begged for mercy, one hundred and thirteen of them were killed on the spot, and another one hundred and fifty were so badly wounded by Tarleton’s dragoons that they couldn’t be moved. Only fifty-three from the entire regiment were spared and taken prisoner. ‘Tarleton’s quarter’ then became a term synonymous with cruelty. * * * Sensing the quiet influence of the prominent citizens under parole in Charleston, Cornwallis decided to deport them to Florida.”
“Lieutenant Governor Gadsden and seventy-seven other public and influential men were taken from their beds by armed parties, before dawn on the morning of the 27th of August, 1780, hurried on board the Sandwich prison ship, without being allowed to bid adieu to their families, and were conveyed to St. Augustine.
“Lieutenant Governor Gadsden and seventy-seven other public figures and influential men were pulled from their beds by armed groups before dawn on August 27, 1780. They were quickly taken aboard the Sandwich prison ship without a chance to say goodbye to their families and were transported to St. Augustine.”
“The pretence for this measure, by which the British authorities attempted to justify it, was the false accusation that these men were concerting a scheme for burning the town and massacring the loyal inhabitants. Nobody believed the tale, and the act was made more flagrant by this wicked calumny. Arrived at St. Augustine the prisoners were offered paroles to enjoy liberty within the precincts of the town. Gadsden, the sturdy patriot, refused acquiescence, for he disdained making further terms with a power that did not regard the sanctity of a solemn treaty. He was determined not to be deceived the second time.
“The excuse for this action, which the British authorities used to justify it, was the false claim that these men were plotting to burn the town and massacre its loyal residents. No one believed that story, and the act was made even more outrageous by this wicked slander. Upon arriving in St. Augustine, the prisoners were offered paroles to enjoy freedom within the town limits. Gadsden, the strong patriot, refused to go along with it, as he held in contempt the idea of making any further agreements with a power that didn’t respect the sanctity of a serious treaty. He was determined not to be fooled again.”
“‘Had the British commanders,’ he said, ‘regarded the terms of capitulation at Charleston I might now, although a prisoner, enjoy the smiles and consolations of my family under my own roof; but even without a shadow of accusation preferred against me, for any act inconsistent with my plighted faith, I am torn from them, and here, in a distant land, invited to enter into new engagements. I will give no parole.’
“‘If the British commanders,’ he said, ‘had taken the terms of surrender at Charleston seriously, I might now, even as a prisoner, be enjoying the company and comfort of my family in my own home; but despite not having any accusations against me for any act that goes against my word, I am separated from them, and here, in a foreign land, I’m being urged to make new commitments. I will not give any parole.’”
“‘Think better of it,’ said Governor Tonyn, who was in command, ‘a second refusal of it will fix your destiny,—a dungeon will be your future habitation.’
“‘Think twice about it,’ said Governor Tonyn, who was in charge, ‘another refusal will seal your fate—a dungeon will be where you end up.’”
“‘Prepare it then,’ replied the inflexible patriot, ‘I will give no parole, so help me God!’
“‘Then get it ready,’ replied the unyielding patriot, ‘I won’t give any promises, I swear to God!’”
“And the petty tyrant did prepare it, and for forty-two weeks that patriot, of almost threescore years of age, never saw the light of the blessed sun, but lay incarcerated in the dungeon of the castle of St Augustine. All the other prisoners accepted paroles, but they were exposed to indignities more harrowing to the sensitive soul than close confinement. When they were exchanged, in June, 1781, they were not allowed even to touch at Charleston, but were sent to Philadelphia, whither their families had been banished when the prisoners were taken to the Sandwich. More than a thousand persons were thus exiled, and husbands and wives, fathers and children, first met in a distant State after a separation of ten months.
“And the petty tyrant got it ready, and for forty-two weeks, that patriot, nearly sixty years old, never saw the light of the blessed sun, but lay locked up in the dungeon of the castle of St. Augustine. All the other prisoners accepted paroles, but they faced humiliations more painful to the sensitive soul than close confinement. When they were exchanged in June 1781, they weren't even allowed to stop in Charleston but were sent to Philadelphia, where their families had been banished when the prisoners were taken to the Sandwich. More than a thousand people were exiled this way, and husbands and wives, fathers and children, finally reunited in a distant state after a separation of ten months.”
“Nearly all the soldiers taken prisoners at Charleston were confined in prison ships in the harbor, where foul air, bad food, filth, and disease killed hundreds of them. Those confined at Haddrell’s Point also suffered terribly. Many of them had been nurtured in affluence; now far from friends and entirely without means, they were reduced to the greatest straits. They were not even allowed to fish for their support, but were obliged to perform the most menial services. After thirteen months captivity, Cornwallis ordered them to be sent to the West Indies, and this cruel order would have been carried out, but for the general exchange of prisoners which took place soon afterwards.
“Almost all the soldiers captured at Charleston were held on prison ships in the harbor, where the stale air, poor food, filth, and disease led to the deaths of hundreds of them. Those held at Haddrell’s Point also experienced extreme suffering. Many of them had come from wealthy backgrounds; now, far from friends and completely broke, they faced dire circumstances. They weren't even allowed to fish to support themselves and were forced to do the most menial tasks. After thirteen months of captivity, Cornwallis ordered them to be sent to the West Indies, and this cruel order would have been followed through if it weren't for the general exchange of prisoners that happened shortly after.”
“Governor Rutledge, in speaking before the South Carolina Assembly at Jacksonboro, thus eloquently referred to the rigorous and unjustifiable conduct of the British authorities:
“Governor Rutledge, while addressing the South Carolina Assembly at Jacksonboro, spoke passionately about the harsh and unreasonable actions of the British authorities:
“‘Regardless of the sacred ties of honor, destitute of the feelings of humanity, and determined to extinguish, if possible, every spark of freedom in this country, the enemy, with the insolent pride of conquerors, gave unbounded scope to the exercise of their tyrannical disposition, infringed their public engagements, and violated their most solemn treaties. Many of our worthiest citizens, without cause, were long and closely confined, some on board prison ships, and others in the town and castle of St. Augustine. Their properties were disposed of at the will and caprice of the enemy, and their families sent to a different and distant part of the continent without the means of support. Many who had surrendered prisoners of war were killed in cold blood. Several suffered death in the most ignominious manner, and others were delivered up to savages and put to tortures, under which they expired. Thus the lives, liberties, and properties of the people were dependent solely on the pleasure of the British officers, who deprived them of either or all on the most frivolous pretenses. Indians, slaves, and a desperate banditti of the most profligate characters were caressed and employed by the enemy to execute their infamous purposes. Devastation and ruin marked their progress and that of their adherents; nor were their violences restrained by the charms or influence of beauty and innocence; even the fair sex, whom it is the duty of all, and the pleasure and pride of the brave to protect, they and their tender offspring, were victims to the inveterate malice of an unrelenting foe. Neither the tears of mothers, nor the cries of infants could excite pity or compassion. Not only the peaceful habitation of the widow, the aged and the infirm, but the holy temples of the Most High were consumed in flames, kindled by their sacrilegious hands. They have tarnished the glory of the British army, disgraced the profession of a British soldiery, and fixed indelible stigmas of rapine, cruelty and peridy, and profaneness on the British name.’”
“‘Regardless of the sacred bonds of honor, lacking any sense of humanity, and intent on crushing every bit of freedom in this country, the enemy, with the arrogant pride of conquerors, freely exercised their tyrannical nature, broke their public commitments, and ignored their most serious treaties. Many of our most deserving citizens were unjustly confined for long periods, some on prison ships and others in the town and castle of St. Augustine. Their properties were taken at the whim of the enemy, and their families were sent off to distant parts of the continent without any means of support. Many who had surrendered as prisoners of war were executed coldly. Some were killed in the most disgraceful ways, and others were handed over to savages and tortured to death. Thus, the lives, freedoms, and possessions of the people were completely at the mercy of British officers, who could take away any or all of them for the most trivial reasons. Indians, slaves, and a desperate gang of the most immoral characters were favored and used by the enemy to carry out their disgraceful plans. Destruction and ruin followed their path and that of their allies; their violence was unaffected by the charms or influence of beauty and innocence; even the fairer sex, whom it is the duty of all, and the pride and pleasure of the brave to protect, along with their vulnerable children, became victims of an unyielding enemy's malice. Neither the tears of mothers nor the cries of infants could stir pity or compassion. Not only the quiet homes of widows, the elderly, and the sick, but also the holy places of worship were set ablaze by their sacrilegious hands. They have stained the honor of the British army, disgraced the profession of British soldiers, and left lasting marks of plunder, cruelty, betrayal, and irreverence on the British name.’”
When in 1808 the Tammany Society of New York laid the cornerstone of a vault in which the bones of many of the prison ship martyrs were laid Joseph D. Fay, Esq., made an oration in which he said:
When in 1808 the Tammany Society of New York laid the cornerstone of a vault for the bones of many of the prison ship martyrs, Joseph D. Fay, Esq., gave a speech in which he said:
“But the suffering of those unfortunate Americans whom the dreadful chances of war had destined for the prison-ships, were far greater than any which have been told. In that deadly season of the year, when the dog-star rages with relentless fury, when a pure air is especially necessary to health, the British locked their prisoner, after long marches, in the dungeons of ships affected with contagion, and reeking with the filth of crowded captives, dead and dying. * * * No reasoning, no praying could obtain from his stern tyrants the smallest alleviation of his fate.
“But the suffering of those unfortunate Americans whom the terrible circumstances of war had forced into the prison ships was far greater than anything that has been described. In that deadly time of year, when the dog star rages with relentless intensity, when clean air is especially essential to health, the British confined their prisoners, after long marches, in the dungeons of ships infected with disease, and filled with the filth of overcrowded captives, dead and dying. * * * No reasoning, no praying could persuade his harsh captors to provide even the slightest relief from his fate.
“In South Carolina the British officer called Fraser, after trying in every manner to induce the prisoners to enlist, said to them: ‘Go to your dungeons in the prison ships, where you shall perish and rot, but first let me tell you that the rations which have been hitherto allowed for your wives and children shall, from this moment, cease forever; and you shall die assured that they are starving in the public streets, and that you are the authors of their fate.’
“In South Carolina, the British officer named Fraser, after trying every way possible to get the prisoners to enlist, told them: ‘Go to your dungeons on the prison ships, where you will perish and rot. But first let me inform you that the food provided for your wives and children will stop from this moment on; you will die knowing that they are starving in the streets and that you are responsible for their fate.'”
“A sentence so terribly awful appalled the firm soul of every listening hero. A solemn silence followed the declaration; they cast their wondering eyes one upon the other, and valor, for a moment, hung suspended between love of family, and love of country. Love of country at length rose superior to every other consideration, and moved by one impulse, this glorious band of patriots thundered into the astonished ears of their persecutors, ‘The prison-ships and Death, or Washington and our country!’
“A statement so incredibly horrific shocked the brave hearts of everyone listening. A heavy silence followed the announcement; they exchanged puzzled glances, and for a moment, courage hung in the balance between loyalty to family and loyalty to country. Ultimately, love for their country prevailed over everything else, and driven by a shared passion, this courageous group of patriots declared to their astonished oppressors, ‘The prison ships and death, or Washington and our country!’”
“Meagre famine shook hands with haggard pestilence, joining a league to appall, conquer, and destroy the glorious spirit of liberty.”
“Thin famine shook hands with worn-out disease, teaming up to frighten, conquer, and destroy the glorious spirit of freedom.”
CHAPTER XXIII. — A POET ON A PRISON SHIP
Philip Freneau, the poet of the Revolution, as he has been called, was of French Huguenot ancestry. The Freneaus came to New York in 1685. His mother was Agnes Watson, a resident of New York, and the poet was born on the second of January, 1752.
Philip Freneau, known as the poet of the Revolution, was of French Huguenot descent. The Freneaus arrived in New York in 1685. His mother, Agnes Watson, lived in New York, and the poet was born on January 2, 1752.
In the year 1780 a vessel of which he was the owner, called the Aurora, was taken by the British. Freneau was on board, though he was not the captain of the ship. The British man-of-war, Iris, made the Aurora her prize, after a fight in which the sailing master and many of the crew were killed. This was in May, 1780. The survivors were brought to New York, and confined on board the prison ship, Scorpion. Freneau has left a poem describing the horrors of his captivity in very strong language, and it is easy to conceive that his suffering must have been intense to have aroused such bitter feelings. We give a part of his poem, as it contains the best description of the indignities inflicted upon the prisoners, and their mental and physical sufferings that we have found in any work on the subject.
In 1780, a ship he owned called the Aurora was seized by the British. Freneau was on board, although he wasn't the captain. The British warship, Iris, captured the Aurora after a battle in which the sailing master and many crew members were killed. This happened in May 1780. The survivors were taken to New York and imprisoned on the prison ship, Scorpion. Freneau wrote a poem detailing the horrors of his captivity in very powerful language, and it's clear that his suffering must have been severe to provoke such strong feelings. We share a part of his poem because it provides the best description of the indignities experienced by the prisoners and their mental and physical anguish that we’ve found in any work on the subject.
PART OF PHILIP FRENEAU’S POEM ON THE PRISON SHIPS
PART OF PHILIP FRENEAU’S POEM ON THE PRISON SHIPS
Conveyed to York we found, at length, too late, That Death was better than the prisoner’s fate There doomed to famine, shackles, and despair, Condemned to breathe a foul, infected air, In sickly hulks, devoted while we lay,— Successive funerals gloomed each dismal day The various horrors of these hulks to tell— These prison ships where Pain and Penance dwell, Where Death in ten-fold vengeance holds his reign, And injured ghosts, yet unavenged, complain: This be my task—ungenerous Britons, you Conspire to murder whom you can’t subdue
Conveyed to York, we found, finally, too late, That Death was better than the prisoner’s fate. There, doomed to hunger, shackles, and despair, Condemned to breathe foul, contaminated air, In sickly ships, while we lay devoted— Every day was overshadowed by gloomy funerals. The various horrors of these ships to describe— These prison vessels where Pain and Penance thrive, Where Death, in multiple forms, holds his power, And wronged souls, still unavenged, mourn and cower: This is my task—selfish Brits, you Conspire to destroy those you can’t control.
So much we suffered from the tribe I hate, So near they shoved us to the brink of fate, When two long months in these dark hulks we lay, Barred down by night, and fainting all the day, In the fierce fervors of the solar beam Cooled by no breeze on Hudson’s mountain stream, That not unsung these threescore days shall fall To black oblivion that would cover all. No masts or sails these crowded ships adorn, Dismal to view, neglected and forlorn; Here mighty ills oppressed the imprisoned throng; Dull were our slumbers, and our nights were long. From morn to eve along the decks we lay, Scorched into fevers by the solar ray; No friendly awning cast a welcome shade, Once was it promised, and was never made; No favors could these sons of Death bestow, ‘Twas endless vengeance, and unceasing woe. Immortal hatred doth their breasts engage, And this lost empire swells their souls with rage. Two hulks on Hudson’s stormy bosom lie, Two, on the east, alarm the pitying eye, There, the black Scorpion at her mooring rides, And there Strombolo, swinging, yields the tides; Here bulky Jersey fills a larger space, And Hunter, to all hospitals disgrace. Thou Scorpion, fatal to thy crowded throng, Dire theme of horror to Plutonian song, Requir’st my lay,—thy sultry decks I know, And all the torments that exist below! The briny wave that Hudson’s bosom fills Drained through her bottom in a thousand rills; Rotten and old, replete with sighs and groans, Scarce on the water she sustained her bones: Here, doomed to toil, or founder in the tide, At the moist pumps incessantly we plied; Here, doomed to starve, like famished dogs we tore The scant allowance that our tyrants bore. Remembrance shudders at this scene of fears, Still in my view, some tyrant chief appears, Some base-born Hessian slave walks threatening by, Some servile Scot with murder in his eye, Still haunts my sight, as vainly they bemoan Rebellions managed so unlike their own. O may I never feel the poignant pain To live subjected to such fiends again! Stewards and mates that hostile Britain bore, Cut from the gallows on their native shore; Their ghastly looks and vengeance beaming eyes Still to my view in dismal visions rise,— O may I ne’er review these dire abodes, These piles for slaughter floating on the floods! And you that o’er the troubled ocean go Strike not your standards to this venomed foe, Better the greedy wave should swallow all, Better to meet the death-conducting ball, Better to sleep on ocean’s oozy bed, At once destroyed and numbered with the dead, Than thus to perish in the face of day Where twice ten thousand deaths one death delay. When to the ocean sinks the western sun, And the scorched tories fire their evening gun, “Down, rebels, down!” the angry Scotchmen cry, “Base dogs, descend, or by our broadswords die!” Hail, dark abode! What can with thee compare? Heat, sickness, famine, death, and stagnant air,—
We suffered so much from the tribe I despise, They pushed us right to the edge of fate, For two long months we lay in these dark ships, Locked down at night, fainting all day long, Under the intense heat of the blazing sun Without a breeze on Hudson’s river, That these sixty days won’t be erased By the black nothingness that would cover everything. These crowded ships don't have any masts or sails, They look miserable, neglected and abandoned; Here, terrible problems pressed down on the imprisoned crowd; Our sleep was dull, and our nights felt endless. From morning to evening we lay along the decks, Burned into fevers by the sun’s rays; No friendly awning offered any shade, Once promised, but never delivered; No mercy was shown by these sons of Death, Just endless vengeance and constant woe. Immortal hatred fills their hearts, And this lost empire fuels their rage. Two hulks lie on the stormy Hudson, Two, to the east, catch the pitying eye, There, the black Scorpion rides at anchor, And there Strombolo swings with the tides; Here, bulky Jersey takes up more space, And Hunter brings shame to all hospitals. You Scorpion, deadly to your crowded crew, A dire theme for horror in the underworld, I know your hot decks — And all the tortures that exist below! The salty wave that fills the Hudson Drained through her bottom in a thousand streams; Rotten and old, filled with sighs and groans, Hardly afloat, she barely held together: Here, doomed to work, or sink in the tide, We labored endlessly at the wet pumps; Here, doomed to starve, like hungry dogs we tore At the meager rations that our tyrants allowed. Just thinking about this scene makes me shudder, I still see some tyrant leader, A lowly Hessian slave threatening by, A servile Scot with murder in his eyes, Haunts my vision, as they uselessly lament Rebellions poorly executed compared to their own. Oh may I never feel the sharp pain Of living subjected to such fiends again! Stewards and mates that hostile Britain produced, Hanged on their native shore; Their ghastly looks and vengeful eyes Rise to my sight in grim visions — Oh may I never revisit these dreadful places, These floating slaughterhouses on the water! And you who sail over the troubled ocean, Don’t lower your flags to this venomous enemy, Better that the greedy waves swallow you, Better to face the bullet leading to death, Better to sleep on the ocean’s muddy bed, Destroyed at once and numbered with the dead, Than to die like this in broad daylight Where countless deaths delay a single death. When the western sun sinks into the ocean, And the scorched loyalists fire their evening gun, “Down, rebels, down!” the angry Scots shout, “Lowly dogs, surrender, or die by our blades!” Hail, dark dwelling! What can compare with you? Heat, sickness, famine, death, and stagnant air —
Swift from the guarded decks we rushed along, And vainly sought repose, so vast our throng. Three hundred wretches here, denied all light, In crowded quarters pass the infernal night. Some for a bed their tattered vestments join, And some on chest, and some on floors recline; Shut from the blessings of the evening air Pensive we lay with mingled corpses there: Meagre and wan, and scorched with heat below, We looked like ghosts ere death had made us so: How could we else, where heat and hunger joined Thus to debase the body and the mind? Where cruel thirst the parching throat invades, Dries up the man and fits him for the shades? No waters laded from the bubbling spring To these dire ships these little tyrants bring— By plank and ponderous beams completely walled In vain for water, still in vain we called. No drop was granted to the midnight prayer To rebels in these regions of despair! The loathsome cask a deadly dose contains, Its poison circles through the languid veins. “Here, generous Briton, generous, as you say, To my parched tongue one cooling drop convey— Hell has no mischief like a thirsty throat, Nor one tormentor like your David Sproat!” Dull flew the hours till, from the East displayed, Sweet morn dispelled the horrors of the shade: On every side dire objects met the sight, And pallid forms, and murders of the night: The dead were past their pains, the living groan, Nor dare to hope another morn their own.
We rushed from the guarded decks, moving quickly, And desperately sought some rest, so huge was our crowd. Three hundred unfortunate souls here, cut off from light, Spend the unbearable night in cramped quarters. Some use their torn clothes as a bed, Some lie on chests, and some on the floors; Cut off from the evening air’s blessings, We lay there pensively among the corpses: Thin and pale, scorched by the heat below, We looked like ghosts before death came: How else could we be, with heat and hunger Joining forces to break down body and mind? Where cruel thirst invades the parched throat, Dries up the man and readies him for the grave? No water loaded from the bubbling spring Comes to these terrible ships from these little tyrants— Closed in by planks and heavy beams, In vain we called for water, still in vain. No drop was given to our midnight prayers, To rebels in these areas of despair! The disgusting cask holds a deadly dose, Its poison flows through our weak veins. “Here, generous Briton, as you claim to be, Bring one cooling drop to my parched tongue— Hell doesn’t have a torment like a thirsty throat, Nor a tormentor like your David Sproat!” Time slowly dragged on until, from the East, Sweet morning chased away the terrors of the night: Everywhere, horrifying scenes met the eye, And pale bodies, and the aftermath of last night’s murders: The dead were free from their suffering, the living groaned, And didn’t dare to hope for another morning of their own.
O’er distant streams appears the living green, And leafy trees on mountain tops are seen: But they no grove or grassy mountain tread, Marked for a longer journey to the dead. Black as the clouds that shade St. Kilda’s shore, Wild as the winds that round her mountains roar, At every post some surly vagrant stands, Culled from the English, or the Scottish bands. Dispensing death triumphantly they stand, Their musquets ready to obey command; Wounds are their sport, and ruin is their aim; On their dark souls compassion has no claim, And discord only can their spirits please, Such were our tyrants here, such foes as these.
Over distant streams, vibrant green appears, With leafy trees visible on mountain tops: But they tread no groves or grassy mountains, Marked for a longer journey to the dead. Black as the clouds that cover St. Kilda's shore, Wild as the winds that roar around her mountains, At every post, a surly vagrant stands, Taken from the English or the Scottish bands. Dispensing death triumphantly, they stand, Their muskets ready to obey commands; Wounds are their sport, and destruction is their goal; On their dark souls, compassion has no hold, And only discord can please their spirits, Such were our tyrants here, such foes as these.
But such a train of endless woes abound So many mischiefs in these hulks are found That on them all a poem to prolong Would swell too high the horrors of our song. Hunger and thirst to work our woe combine, And mouldy bread, and flesh of rotten swine; The mangled carcase and the battered brain; The doctor’s poison, and the captain’s cane; The soldier’s musquet, and the steward’s debt: The evening shackle, and the noonday threat.
But there’s a train of endless troubles here So many troubles in these old ships appear That writing a poem about them all Would make our song’s horrors too tall. Hunger and thirst join forces to bring us pain, With moldy bread and rotten meat to explain; The mangled corpses and the battered minds; The doctor’s poison and the captain’s binds; The soldier’s musket and the steward’s debt: The evening shackles and the noon threat.
That charm whose virtue warms the world beside, Was by these tyrants to our use denied. While yet they deigned that healthsome balm to lade, The putrid water felt its powerful aid; But when refused, to aggravate our pains, Then fevers raged and revelled through our veins; Throughout my frame I felt its deadly heat; I felt my pulse with quicker motions beat; A pallid hue o’er every face was spread, Unusual pains attacked the fainting head: No physic here, no doctor to assist, With oaths they placed me on the sick man’s list: Twelve wretches more the same dark symptoms took, And these were entered on the doctor’s book. The loathsome Hunter was our destined place, The Hunter, to all hospitals disgrace. With soldiers sent to guard us on the road, Joyful we left the Scorpion’s dire abode: Some tears we shed for the remaining crew, Then cursed the hulk, and from her sides withdrew. THE HOSPITAL PRISON SHIP Now towards the Hunter’s gloomy decks we came, A slaughter house, yet hospital in name; For none came there till ruined with their fees, And half consumed, and dying of disease:— But when too near, with laboring oar, we plied, The Mate, with curses, drove us from the side:— That wretch, who banished from the navy crew, Grown old in blood did here his trade renew. His rancorous tongue, when on his charge let loose, Uttered reproaches, scandal, and abuse; Gave all to hell who dared his king disown, And swore mankind were made for George alone. A thousand times, to irritate our woe, He wished us foundered in the gulph below: A thousand times he brandished high his stick, And swore as often, that we were not sick:— And yet so pale! that we were thought by some A freight of ghosts from Death’s dominions come. But, calmed at length, for who can always rage? Or the fierce war of boundless passion wage? He pointed to the stairs that led below To damps, disease, and varied forms of woe:— Down to the gloom I took my pensive way, Along the decks the dying captives lay, Some struck with madness, some with scurvy pained, But still of putrid fevers most complained. On the hard floors the wasted objects laid There tossed and tumbled in the dismal shade: There no soft voice their bitter fate bemoaned, But Death strode stately, while his victims groaned. Of leaky decks I heard them long complain, Drowned as they were in deluges of rain: Denied the comforts of a dying bed, And not a pillow to support the head: How could they else but pine, and grieve and sigh, Detest a wretched life, and wish to die? Scarce had I mingled with this wretched band, When a thin victim seized me by the hand:— “And art thou come?”—death heavy on his eyes— “And art thou come to these abodes?” he cries, “Why didst thou leave the Scorpion’s dark retreat? And hither haste, a surer death to meet? Why didst thou leave thy damp, infected cell? If that was purgatory, this is hell. We too, grown weary of that horrid shade, Petitioned early for the Doctor’s aid; His aid denied, more deadly symptoms came, Weak and yet weaker, glowed the vital flame; And when disease had worn us down so low That few could tell if we were ghosts or no, And all asserted death would be our fate, Then to the Doctor we were sent, too late” Ah! rest in peace, each injured, parted shade, By cruel hands in death’s dark weeds arrayed, The days to come shall to your memory raise Piles on these shores, to spread through earth your praise. THE HESSIAN DOCTOR From Brooklyn heights a Hessian doctor came, Nor great his skill, nor greater much his fame: Fair Science never called the wretch her son, And Art disdained the stupid man to own. He on his charge the healing work begun With antmomial mixtures by the tun: Ten minutes was the time he deigned to stay, The time of grace allotted once a day: He drenched us well with bitter draughts, tis true, Nostrums from hell, and cortex from Peru: Some with his pills he sent to Pluto’s reign, And some he blistered with his flies of Spain. His Tartar doses walked their deadly round, Till the lean patient at the potion frowned, And swore that hemlock, death, or what you will, Were nonsense to the drugs that stuffed his bill. On those refusing he bestowed a kick, Or menaced vengeance with his walking stick: Here uncontrolled he exercised his trade, And grew experienced by the deaths he made. Knave though he was, yet candor must confess Not chief physician was this man of Hesse: One master o’er the murdering tribe was placed, By him the rest were honored or disgraced Once, and but once, by some strange fortune led, He came to see the dying and the dead. He came, but anger so inflamed his eye, And such a faulchion glittered on his thigh, And such a gloom his visage darkened o’er, And two such pistols in his hands he bore, That, by the gods, with such a load of steel, We thought he came to murder, not to heal. Rage in his heart, and mischief in his head, He gloomed destruction, and had smote us dead Had he so dared, but fear withheld his hand, He came, blasphemed, and turned again to land THE BENEVOLENT CAPTAIN From this poor vessel, and her sickly crew A british seaman all his titles drew, Captain, Esquire, Commander, too, in chief, And hence he gained his bread and hence his beef: But sir, you might have searched creation round, And such another ruffian not have found Though unprovoked an angry face he bore,— All were astonished at the oaths he swore He swore, till every prisoner stood aghast, And thought him Satan in a brimstone blast He wished us banished from the public light; He wished us shrouded in perpetual night;
That charm that warms the world was denied to us by these tyrants. While they deigned to provide this healthy balm, the foul water felt its powerful benefit. But when it was withheld, only to worsen our suffering, fevers surged through our veins. I felt its deadly heat throughout my body; my pulse quickened. A pale hue spread over every face, and unusual pains attacked my weak head. There was no medicine here, no doctor to help; they put me on the sick list with oaths. Twelve others suffered the same dark symptoms, and these were recorded in the doctor’s book. The disgusting Hunter was our destined place, a disgrace to all hospitals. With soldiers sent to guard us on the way, we happily left the Scorpion’s dreadful hold. We shed some tears for those left behind, then cursed the ship and pulled away from her sides. THE HOSPITAL PRISON SHIP Now we approached the gloomy decks of the Hunter, a slaughterhouse that called itself a hospital. No one arrived until they were ruined by their fees and half eaten away, dying from disease. But when we got too close, the Mate, with curses, drove us from the side. That wretch, banished from the navy crew, now old in blood, renewed his vicious trade here. His spiteful tongue, when unleashed, spat out reproaches, scandals, and insults. He condemned anyone who dared to disown his king and swore that mankind existed only for George. A thousand times, to heighten our misery, he wished us to sink into the abyss below. A thousand times he brandished his stick and swore that we were not sick. And yet we were so pale that some thought we were just ghosts come from Death’s domain. But eventually calmed, for who can always rage? Or wage endless war against strong emotions? He pointed to the stairs leading below into dampness, disease, and various forms of woe. Down into the gloom I took my heavy-hearted way, where dying captives lay along the decks. Some struck with madness, others in pain from scurvy, but most complained of putrid fevers. On the hard floors, the emaciated bodies tossed and turned in the dismal shadows. No soft voice mourned their bitter fate, but Death marched tall, while his victims groaned. I heard them long complain about the leaky decks, drowning as they were in floods of rain. Denied the comforts of a dying bed, with not a single pillow to support their heads. How could they do anything but waste away, grieve, and sigh, hate their miserable life, and wish to die? Scarcely had I mingled with this miserable group when a frail victim seized me by the hand. “And you have come?”—death heavy in his eyes—“And you have come to these abodes?” he cried. “Why did you leave the Scorpion’s dark retreat? And hurry here to meet a surer death? Why did you leave your dank, infected cell? If that was purgatory, this is hell. We too, weary of that horrid shadow, petitioned early for the doctor’s help; his help denied, deadlier symptoms arrived. Weak and weaker, the vital flame flickered; and when disease had worn us down so low that few could tell if we were ghosts or not, and all said death would be our fate, then we were sent to the doctor, but it was too late.” Ah! rest in peace, each injured, parted shade, arrayed in death's dark weeds by cruel hands. The days to come shall raise piles on these shores, spreading your praise throughout the earth. THE HESSIAN DOCTOR From Brooklyn Heights came a Hessian doctor, neither great in skill, nor greater in fame. Fair Science never called this wretch her child, and Art disdainfully refused to acknowledge him. He started his healing work with antimonial mixtures by the barrel. Ten minutes was the time he allowed himself to stay, the grace period given once a day. He drenched us in his bitter potions, it’s true, remedies from hell and bark from Peru. Some he sent to Pluto with his pills, and others he blistered with his Spanish flies. His Tartar doses made their deadly rounds until the gaunt patient scowled at the concoction. He swore that hemlock, death, or anything else was nonsense compared to the drugs on his bill. On those who refused, he would kick or threaten vengeance with his walking stick. Here unchecked, he practiced his trade and gained experience through the deaths he caused. Though he was a knave, candor must admit this man from Hesse was not the head physician of the group. One master over the murderous bunch was appointed; by him, the rest were honored or disgraced. Once, by some strange fortune, he came to see the dying and the dead. He came, but anger inflamed his gaze, and a large sword shone on his thigh, darkening his face with gloom. He held two pistols in his hands, and by the gods; with that much steel, we thought he was there to kill, not to heal. Rage in his heart and mischief in his mind, he threatened destruction and would have struck us dead had fear not held his hand. He came, cursed, and turned back to the land. THE BENEVOLENT CAPTAIN From this poor vessel and her sickly crew, a British seaman drew all his titles: Captain, Esquire, Commander-in-Chief, and thus he made his living. But sir, you could have searched the world over and not found a ruffian like him. Though unprovoked, he wore an angry expression; everyone was astonished by the oaths he swore. He swore until every prisoner stood in shock, thinking him Satan in a blast of brimstone. He wished us banished from public sight; he wished us cloaked in eternal night;
He swore, besides, that should the ship take fire We, too, must in the pitchy flames expire— That if we wretches did not scrub the decks His staff should break our base, rebellious necks;
He swore, moreover, that if the ship caught fire We, too, would have to perish in the dense flames— That if we miserable ones didn’t scrub the decks His crew would break our lowly, rebellious necks;
If, where he walked, a murdered carcase lay, Still dreadful was the language of the day; He called us dogs, and would have held us so, But terror checked the meditated blow Of vengeance, from our injured nation due, To him, and all the base, unmanly crew Such food they sent to make complete our woes It looked like carrion torn from hungry crows Such vermin vile on every joint were seen, So black, corrupted, mortified, and lean, That once we tried to move our flinty chief, And thus addressed him, holding up the beef— “See, Captain, see, what rotten bones we pick, What kills the healthy cannot cure the sick, Not dogs on such by Christian men are fed, And see, good master, see, what lousy bread!” “Your meat or bread,” this man of death replied, “Tis not my care to manage or provide But this, base rebel dogs I’d have you know, That better than you merit we bestow— Out of my sight!” nor more he deigned to say, But whisked about, and frowning, strode away CONCLUSION Each day at least six carcases we bore And scratched them graves along the sandy shore By feeble hands the shallow graves were made, No stone memorial o’er the corpses laid In barren sands and far from home they lie, No friend to shed a tear when passing by O’er the mean tombs insulting Britons tread, Spurn at the sand, and curse the rebel dead. When to your arms these fatal islands fall— For first or last, they must be conquered, all, Americans! to rites sepulchral just With gentlest footstep press this kindred dust, And o’er the tombs, if tombs can then be found, Place the green turf, and plant the myrtle round
If, where he walked, a murdered body lay, The language of the day was still terrible; He called us dogs and would have treated us that way, But fear stopped the planned blow of revenge, From our wronged nation due, To him and all the low, unmanly crew. The food they sent to deepen our suffering Looked like carcasses torn from hungry crows. Such disgusting vermin were seen on every piece, So black, rotten, decayed, and thin, That once we tried to sway our hard-hearted leader, And said to him, holding up the meat— “See, Captain, see what rotten bones we’re picking, What kills the healthy cannot cure the sick, Not even dogs get fed on this by Christian men, And look, good master, see this filthy bread!” “Your meat or bread,” this man of death replied, “It’s not my responsibility to manage or provide. But this, filthy rebel dogs, I want you to know, That what we give you is better than you deserve— Get out of my sight!” he said, and wouldn’t say more, But turned away, scowling, and strode off. CONCLUSION Each day we dragged at least six bodies And scratched out graves along the sandy shore. By weak hands, the shallow graves were dug, No stone memorial laid over the corpses, In barren sands, far from home they lie, No friend to shed a tear when passing by. Over the humble graves, insulting British soldiers tread, Kick at the sand, and curse the rebel dead. When your arms take these fateful islands— For first or last, they must all be conquered, Americans! to the funeral rites just, With gentle steps, tread on this kindred dust, And over the graves, if graves can then be found, Lay down the green grass, and plant myrtle around.
This poem was written in 1780, the year that Freneau was captured. He was on board the Scorpion and Hunter about two months, and was then exchanged. We fear that he has not in the least exaggerated the horrors of his situation. In fact there seem to have been many bloody pages torn from the book of history, that can never be perused. Many dark deeds were done in these foul prisons, of which we can only give hints, and the details of many crimes committed against the helpless prisoners are left to our imaginations. But enough and more than enough is known to make us fear that inhumanity, a species of cruelty unknown to the lower animals, is really one of the most prominent characteristics of men. History is a long and bloody record of battles, massacres, torture chambers; greed and violence; bigotry and sin. The root of all crimes is selfishness. What we call inhumanity is we fear not inhuman, but human nature unrestrained. It is true that some progress is made, and it is no longer the custom to kill all captives, at least not in civilized countries. But war will always be “horrida bella,” chiefly because war means license, when the unrestrained, wolfish passions of man get for the time the upper hand. Our task, however, is not that of a moralist, but of a narrator of facts, from which all who read can draw the obvious moral for themselves.
This poem was written in 1780, the year Freneau was captured. He spent about two months on board the Scorpion and Hunter before being exchanged. We worry that he hasn’t exaggerated the horrors of his situation at all. In fact, it seems there are many bloody chapters in history that will never be fully revealed. A lot of dark deeds occurred in those grim prisons, of which we can only hint at, and the specifics of many crimes committed against helpless prisoners are left to our imagination. But enough is known to make us fear that inhumanity, a kind of cruelty unknown to lower animals, is actually one of the most prominent traits of humanity. History is a long and bloody account of battles, massacres, torture chambers; greed and violence; bigotry and sin. The root of all crimes is selfishness. What we call inhumanity is, we fear, not inhuman, but human nature unrestrained. It is true that some progress has been made, and it is no longer customary to kill all captives, at least not in civilized countries. But war will always be “horrida bella,” mainly because war allows the unchecked, wolfish passions of humanity to take over for a time. Our task, however, is not that of a moralist, but of a narrator of facts, from which all who read can draw their own clear moral lessons.
CHAPTER XXIV. — “THERE WAS A SHIP”
Of all the ships that were ever launched the “Old Jersey” is the most notorious. Never before or since, in the dark annals of human sufferings, has so small a space enclosed such a heavy weight of misery. No other prison has destroyed so many human beings in so short a space of time. And yet the Jersey was once as staunch and beautiful a vessel as ever formed a part of the Royal Navy of one of the proudest nations of the world. How little did her builders imagine that she would go down to history accompanied by the execrations of all who are acquainted with her terrible record!
Of all the ships that have ever been launched, the “Old Jersey” is the most infamous. Never before or since, in the dark history of human suffering, has such a small space contained such an immense amount of misery. No other prison has caused the deaths of so many people in such a short time. Yet, the Jersey was once as sturdy and beautiful a vessel as ever belonged to the Royal Navy of one of the proudest nations in the world. How little her builders imagined that she would be remembered in history with the curses of everyone who knows her terrible legacy!
It is said that it was in the late spring of 1780 that the Old Jersey, as she was then called, was first moored in Wallabout Bay, off the coast of Long Island. We can find no record to prove that she was used as a prison ship until the winter of that year. She was, at first, a hospital ship for British soldiers.
It’s said that in late spring of 1780, the ship known as the Old Jersey was first anchored in Wallabout Bay, off the coast of Long Island. There’s no record showing that she was used as a prison ship until the winter of that year. Initially, she served as a hospital ship for British soldiers.
The reason for the removal of the unfortunate prisoners from the ships in New York Harbor was that pestilential sickness was fast destroying them, and it was feared that the inhabitants of New York would suffer from the prevailing epidemics. They were therefore placed in rotten hulks off the quiet shores of Long Island, where, secluded from the public eye, they were allowed to perish by the thousands from cruel and criminal neglect.
The reason for taking the unfortunate prisoners off the ships in New York Harbor was that they were quickly falling victim to a terrible illness, and there was concern that New Yorkers would be affected by the spreading epidemics. They were then placed in decaying ships offshore from the quiet shores of Long Island, where, hidden from the public, they were allowed to die by the thousands due to cruel and negligent treatment.
“The Old Jersey and the two hospital ships,” says General J. Johnson, “remained in the Wallabout until New York was evacuated by the British. The Jersey was the receiving ship: the others, truly, the ships of death!
“The Old Jersey and the two hospital ships,” says General J. Johnson, “stayed in the Wallabout until the British pulled out of New York. The Jersey was the receiving ship; the others, really, the death ships!”
“It has been generally thought that all the prisoners died on board the Jersey. This is not true. Many may have died on board of her who were not reported as sick, but all who were placed on the sick list were removed to the hospital ships, from which they were usually taken, sewed up in a blanket, to their graves.
“It has generally been believed that all the prisoners died on the Jersey. This isn’t accurate. Many may have died on board who weren’t reported as sick, but everyone who was put on the sick list was moved to the hospital ships, from which they were typically taken, wrapped in a blanket, to their graves.”
“After the hospital ships were brought into the Wallabout, it was reported that the sick were attended by physicians. Few indeed were those who recovered, or came back to tell the tale of their sufferings in those horrible places. It was no uncommon sight to see five or six dead bodies brought on shore in a single morning, when a small excavation would be dug at the foot of the hill, the bodies cast into it, and then a man with a shovel would quickly cover them by shovelling sand down the hill upon them.
“After the hospital ships were brought into Wallabout, it was reported that doctors were taking care of the sick. Very few actually recovered or returned to share their stories of suffering in those awful places. It wasn't unusual to see five or six dead bodies brought ashore in a single morning. A small hole would be dug at the foot of the hill, the bodies tossed in, and then a man with a shovel would quickly cover them by shoveling sand down the hill over them.”
“Many were buried in a ravine of this hill and many on Mr. Remsen’s farm. The whole shore, from Rennie’s Point, to Mr. Remsen’s dooryard, was a place of graves; as were also the slope of the hill near the house; the shore, from Mr. Remsen’s barn along the mill-pond to Rappelye’s farm; and the sandy island between the flood-gates and the mill-dam, while a few were buried on the shore on the east side of the Wallabout.
“Many were buried in a ravine on this hill, and many on Mr. Remsen’s farm. The entire shore, from Rennie’s Point to Mr. Remsen’s front yard, was a graveyard; so was the slope of the hill near the house; the shore, from Mr. Remsen’s barn along the mill pond to Rappelye’s farm; and the sandy island between the floodgates and the mill dam, while a few were buried on the shore on the east side of the Wallabout.”
“Thus did Death reign here, from 1776 (when the Whitby prison ship was first moored in the Wallabout) until the peace. The whole Wallabout was a sickly place during the war. The atmosphere seemed to be charged with foul air: from the prison ships; and with the effluvia of dead bodies washed out of their graves by the tides. * * * More than half of the dead buried on the outer side of the mill-pond, were washed out by the waves at high tide, during northeasterly winds.
“Thus did Death reign here, from 1776 (when the Whitby prison ship was first docked in the Wallabout) until the peace. The whole Wallabout was a sickly place during the war. The air felt heavy with rancid odors: from the prison ships, and the stench of dead bodies washed out of their graves by the tides. * * * More than half of the dead buried on the outer side of the mill-pond were washed out by the waves at high tide during northeastern winds.”
“The bodies of the dead lay exposed along the beach, drying and bleaching in the sun, and whitening the shores, till reached by the power of a succeeding storm, as the agitated waves receded, the bones receded with them into the deep, where they remain, unseen by man, awaiting the resurrection morn, when, again joined to the spirits to which they belong, they will meet their persecuting murderers at the bar of the Supreme Judge of the quick and the dead.
“The bodies of the dead lay exposed along the beach, drying and bleaching in the sun, turning the shores white, until a powerful storm came. As the agitated waves pulled back, the bones were carried with them into the depths, where they remain, unseen by man, waiting for the resurrection morning. On that day, they will be reunited with the spirits to which they belong and will confront their persecuting murderers at the judgment seat of the Supreme Judge of the living and the dead."
“We have ourselves,” General Johnson continues, “examined many of the skulls lying on the shore. From the teeth they appeared to be the remains of men in the prime of life.”
“We have ourselves,” General Johnson continues, “looked over many of the skulls lying on the shore. From the teeth, they seemed to be the remains of men in the prime of life.”
We will quote more of this interesting account written by an eyewitness of the horrors he records, in a later chapter. At present we will endeavor to give the reader a short history of the Jersey, from the day of her launching to her degradation, when she was devoted to the foul usages of a prison ship.
We will share more of this fascinating account from someone who witnessed the horrors he's describing in a later chapter. For now, we will try to provide the reader with a brief history of the Jersey, from the day she was launched to her decline, when she was relegated to the grim role of a prison ship.
She was a fourth rate ship of the line, mounting sixty guns, and carrying a crew of four hundred men. She was built in 1736, having succeeded to the name of a celebrated 50-gun ship, which was then withdrawn from the service, and with which she must not be confounded. In 1737 she was fitted for sea as one of the Channel Fleet, commanded by Sir John Norris.
She was a fourth-rate ship of the line, armed with sixty guns and carrying a crew of four hundred men. Built in 1736, she took on the name of a famous 50-gun ship that was retired from service, and she shouldn't be confused with that vessel. In 1737, she was prepared for sea as part of the Channel Fleet, commanded by Sir John Norris.
In the fall of 1738 the command of the Jersey was given to Captain Edmund Williams, and in July, 1739, she was one of the vessels which were sent to the Mediterranean under Rear Admiral Chaloner Ogle, when a threatened rupture with Spain rendered it necessary to strengthen the naval force in that quarter.
In the fall of 1738, Captain Edmund Williams took command of the Jersey, and in July 1739, she was one of the ships sent to the Mediterranean under Rear Admiral Chaloner Ogle, as a potential conflict with Spain made it essential to bolster the naval presence in that area.
The trouble in the Mediterranean having been quieted by the appearance of so strong a fleet, in 1740 the Jersey returned home; but she was again sent out, under the command of Captain Peter Lawrence, and was one of the vessels forming the fleet of Sir John Norris, when, in the fall of that year and in the spring of 1741, that gentleman made his fruitless demonstrations against the Spanish coast. Soon afterwards the Jersey, still forming one of the fleet commanded by Sir Chaloner Ogle, was sent to the West Indies, to strengthen the forces at that station, commanded by Vice-Admiral Vernon, and she was with that distinguished officer when he made his well-known, unsuccessful attack on Carthagena, and the Spanish dominions in America in that year.
The issues in the Mediterranean calmed down with the arrival of such a strong fleet, so in 1740, the Jersey returned home. However, she was sent back out under Captain Peter Lawrence and was part of the fleet led by Sir John Norris when he made his unsuccessful attempts against the Spanish coast in the fall of that year and the spring of 1741. Shortly after that, the Jersey, still part of the fleet commanded by Sir Chaloner Ogle, was sent to the West Indies to reinforce the forces led by Vice-Admiral Vernon. She was with him during his famous but unsuccessful attack on Carthagena and the Spanish territories in America that year.
In March, 1743, Captain Lawrence was succeeded m the command of the Jersey by Captain Harry Norris, youngest son of Admiral Sir John Norris: and the Jersey formed one of the fleet commanded by Sir John Norris, which was designed to watch the enemy’s Brest fleet; but having suffered severely from a storm while on that station, she was obliged to return to the Downs.
In March 1743, Captain Lawrence was replaced in command of the Jersey by Captain Harry Norris, the youngest son of Admiral Sir John Norris. The Jersey was part of the fleet led by Sir John Norris, which was meant to keep an eye on the enemy’s Brest fleet. However, after suffering significant damage from a storm while stationed there, she had to return to the Downs.
Captain Harry Norris having been promoted to a heavier ship, the command of the Jersey was given soon afterwards to Captain Charles Hardy subsequently well known as Governor of the Colony of New York; and in June, 1744, that officer having been appointed to the command of the Newfoundland Station, she sailed for North America, and bore his flag in those waters during the remainder of the year. In 1745, still under the immediate command of Captain Hardy, the Jersey was one of the ships which, under Vice-Admiral Medley, were sent to the Mediterranean, where Vice-Admiral Sir William Rowley then commanded; and as she continued on that station during the following year there is little doubt that Captain Hardy remained there, during the remainder of his term of service on that vessel.
Captain Harry Norris was promoted to a larger ship, and shortly after, Captain Charles Hardy, who later became well-known as Governor of the Colony of New York, took command of the Jersey. In June 1744, he was assigned to the Newfoundland Station, and the ship sailed for North America, where she carried his flag for the rest of the year. In 1745, still under Captain Hardy’s direct command, the Jersey was one of the ships sent to the Mediterranean by Vice-Admiral Medley, where Vice-Admiral Sir William Rowley was in charge. Since she stayed in that area the following year, it’s likely that Captain Hardy remained there for the rest of his service on that ship.
It was while under the command of Captain Hardy in July, 1745, that the Jersey was engaged with the French ship, St. Esprit, of 74 guns, in one of the most desperate engagements on record. The action continued during two hours and a half, when the St. Esprit was compelled to bear away for Cadiz, where she was repaired and refitted for sea. At the close of Sir Charles Hardy’s term of service in 1747, the Jersey was laid up, evidently unfit for active service; and in October, 1748, she was reported among the “hulks” in port.
It was under Captain Hardy's command in July 1745 that the Jersey faced off against the French ship, St. Esprit, armed with 74 guns, in one of the most intense battles ever recorded. The fight lasted for two and a half hours, after which the St. Esprit had to retreat to Cadiz, where it was repaired and readied for sea again. At the end of Sir Charles Hardy’s service in 1747, the Jersey was put out of commission, clearly unfit for active duty; and in October 1748, it was listed among the “hulks” in port.
On the renewal of hostilities with France in 1756 the Jersey was refitted for service, and the command given to Captain John Barker, and in May, 1757, she was sent to the Mediterranean, where, under the orders of Admiral Henry Osbourne, she continued upwards of two years, having been present, on the 28th of February, 1758, when M. du Quesne made his ineffectual attempt to reinforce M. De la Clue, who was then closely confined, with the fleet under his command, in the harbor of Carthagena.
On the renewal of hostilities with France in 1756, the Jersey was prepared for service again, and Captain John Barker was given command. In May 1757, she was sent to the Mediterranean, where she served for over two years under the orders of Admiral Henry Osbourne. She was present on February 28, 1758, when M. du Quesne made his unsuccessful attempt to reinforce M. De la Clue, who was then tightly blockaded with his fleet in the harbor of Carthagena.
On the 18th of August, 1759, while commanded by Captain Barker, the Jersey, with the Culloden and the Conqueror, were ordered by Admiral Boscowan, the commander of the fleet, to proceed to the mouth of the harbor of Toulon, for the purpose of cutting out or destroying two French ships which were moored there under cover of the batteries with the hope of forcing the French Admiral, De la Clue, to an engagement. The three ships approached the harbour, as directed, with great firmness; but they were assailed by so heavy a fire, not only from the enemy’s ships and fortifications, but from several masked batteries, that, after an unequal but desperate contest of upwards of three hours, they were compelled to retire without having succeeded in their object; and to repair to Gibraltar to be refitted.
On August 18, 1759, under the command of Captain Barker, the Jersey, along with the Culloden and the Conqueror, was ordered by Admiral Boscowan, the fleet commander, to head to the entrance of the harbor of Toulon. Their mission was to cut out or destroy two French ships that were anchored there, protected by the batteries, in the hopes of provoking the French Admiral, De la Clue, into a battle. The three ships approached the harbor as instructed, displaying great determination; however, they came under heavy fire not only from the enemy's ships and fortifications but also from several concealed batteries. After an uneven but desperate fight that lasted over three hours, they were forced to retreat without achieving their goal and returned to Gibraltar for repairs.
In the course of the year 1759 Captain Barker was succeeded in the command of the Jersey by Captain Andrew Wilkinson, under whom, forming one of the Mediterranean fleet, commanded by Sir Charles Saunders, she continued in active service until 1763.
In 1759, Captain Barker was replaced as commander of the Jersey by Captain Andrew Wilkinson. Under his command, the ship was part of the Mediterranean fleet led by Sir Charles Saunders and remained in active service until 1763.
In 1763 peace was established, and the Jersey returned to England and was laid up; but in May, 1766, she was again commissioned, and under the command of Captain William Dickson, and bearing the flag of Admiral Spry, she was ordered to her former station in the Mediterranean, where she remained three years.
In 1763, peace was made, and the Jersey returned to England and was put into storage; however, in May 1766, she was recommissioned under Captain William Dickson, flying the flag of Admiral Spry. She was sent back to her previous post in the Mediterranean, where she stayed for three years.
In the spring of 1769, bearing the flag of Commodore Sir John Byron, the Jersey sailed for America. She seems to have returned home at the close of the summer, and her active duties appear to have been brought to an end.
In the spring of 1769, under the flag of Commodore Sir John Byron, the Jersey set sail for America. It looks like she returned home at the end of summer, and her active service seems to have come to a close.
She remained out of commission until 1776, when, without armament, and under the command of Captain Anthony Halstead, she was ordered to New York as a hospital ship.
She was out of service until 1776, when, unarmed and under the command of Captain Anthony Halstead, she was sent to New York as a hospital ship.
Captain Halstead died on the 17th of May, 1778, and, in July following, he was succeeded by Commander David Laird, under whom, either as a hospital, or a prison ship, she remained in Wallabout bay, until she was abandoned at the close of the war, to her fate, which was to rot in the mud at her moorings, until, at last, she sank, and for many years her wretched worm-eaten old hulk could be seen at low tide, shunned by all, a sorry spectacle, the ghost of what had once been a gallant man-of-war.
Captain Halstead died on May 17, 1778, and in the following July, he was succeeded by Commander David Laird. Under his command, the ship remained in Wallabout Bay, functioning either as a hospital or a prison ship, until she was abandoned at the end of the war. Her fate was to decay in the mud where she was moored until she finally sank. For many years, her miserable, worm-eaten old hull could be seen at low tide, avoided by everyone, a sad reminder of what had once been a proud warship.
This short history of the Jersey has been condensed from the account written in 1865 by Mr. Henry B. Dawson and published at Morrisania, New York, in that year.
This brief history of the Jersey has been shortened from the account written in 1865 by Mr. Henry B. Dawson and published in Morrisania, New York, that same year.
In an oration delivered by Mr. Jonathan Russel, in Providence, R. I., on the 4th of July 1800, he thus speaks of this ill-fated vessel and of her victims: “But it was not in the ardent conflicts of the field only, that our countrymen fell; it was not the ordinary chances of war alone which they had to encounter. Happy indeed, thrice happy were Warren, Montgomery, and Mercer; happy those other gallant spirits who fell with glory in the heat of the battle, distinguished by their country and covered with her applause. Every soul sensible to honor, envies rather than compassionates their fate. It was in the dungeons of our inhuman invaders; it was in the loathsome and pestiferous prisons, that the wretchedness of our countrymen still makes the heart bleed. It was there that hunger, and thirst, and disease, and all the contumely that cold-hearted cruelty could bestow, sharpened every pang of death. Misery there wrung every fibre that could feel, before she gave the Blow of Grace which sent the sufferer to eternity. It is said that poison was employed. No, there was no such mercy there. There, nothing was employed which could blunt the susceptibility to anguish, or which, by hastening death, could rob its agonies of a single pang. On board one only of these Prison ships above 11,000 of our brave countrymen are said to have perished. She was called the Jersey. Her wreck still remains, and at low ebb, presents to the world its accursed and blighted fragments. Twice in twenty-four hours the winds of Heaven sigh through it, and repeat the groans of our expiring countrymen; and twice the ocean hides in her bosom those deadly and polluted ruins, which all her waters cannot purify. Every rain that descends washes from the unconsecrated bank the bones of those intrepid sufferers. They lie, naked on the shore, accusing the neglect of their countrymen. How long shall gratitude, and even piety deny them burial? They ought to be collected in one vast ossory, which shall stand a monument to future ages, of the two extremes of human character: of that depravity which, trampling on the rights of misfortune, perpetrated cold and calculating murder on a wretched and defenceless prisoner; and that virtue which animated this prisoner to die a willing martyr to his country. Or rather, were it possible, there ought to be raised a Colossal Column whose base sinking to Hell, should let the murderers read their infamy inscribed upon it; and whose capital of Corinthian laurel ascending to Heaven, should show the sainted Patriots that they have triumphed.
In a speech given by Mr. Jonathan Russel in Providence, R. I., on July 4, 1800, he talked about this doomed ship and its victims: “But our countrymen didn’t only fall in fierce battles; they faced more than just the usual risks of war. Truly, Warren, Montgomery, and Mercer were fortunate—three times fortunate—along with the other brave souls who died gloriously in battle, recognized by their country and celebrated with her praise. Anyone who values honor envies rather than pities their fate. It was in the dungeons of our ruthless enemies; it was in the disgusting and disease-ridden prisons that the suffering of our countrymen still breaks our hearts. There, hunger, thirst, disease, and all the cruelty that cold-hearted brutality could inflict intensified every moment of death. Misery wrung every fiber that could feel, before delivering the final blow that sent the sufferer into eternity. It is said that poison was used. No, there was no such mercy there. Nothing was used that could lessen the agony, or that by hastening death could rob it of a single moment of suffering. On just one of these prison ships, over 11,000 of our brave countrymen are said to have died. It was called the Jersey. Its wreck still remains, and at low tide, it shows the world its cursed and broken pieces. Twice a day, the winds of Heaven sigh through it, repeating the groans of our dying countrymen; and twice a day, the ocean conceals those deadly and tainted ruins in her depths, which none of her waters can purify. Every rain that falls washes away from the unholy bank the bones of those fearless sufferers. They lie, exposed on the shore, accusing their countrymen of neglect. How long will gratitude and even piety deny them proper burial? They should be gathered into one large ossuary, which would stand as a monument for future generations, showcasing the extremes of human nature: the depravity that, trampling on the rights of the unfortunate, committed cold and calculated murder on a wretched and defenseless prisoner; and the virtue that inspired this prisoner to willingly die a martyr for his country. Or better yet, if possible, there should be a towering column whose base sinks to Hell, allowing the murderers to read their infamy inscribed upon it; whose capital of Corinthian laurel rises to Heaven, showing the honored Patriots that they have triumphed.”
“Deep and dreadful as the coloring of this picture may appear, it is but a taint and imperfect sketch of the original. You must remember a thousand unutterable calamities; a thousand instances of domestic as well as national anxiety and distress; which mock description. You ought to remember them; you ought to hand them down in tradition to your posterity, that they may know the awful price their fathers paid for freedom.”
“Deep and disturbing as the coloring of this picture may seem, it is just a stain and an imperfect sketch of the original. You need to remember a thousand unspeakable tragedies; a thousand examples of both personal and national worry and suffering that defy description. You should remember them; you should pass them down to your descendants so they know the terrible price their ancestors paid for freedom.”
CHAPTER XXV. — A DESCRIPTION OF THE JERSEY
SONNET
SONNET
SUGGESTED BY A VISION OF THE JERSEY PRISON SHIP
SUGGESTED BY A VISION OF THE JERSEY PRISON SHIP
BY W P P
BY W P P
O Sea! in whose unfathomable gloom A world forlorn of wreck and ruin lies, In thy avenging majesty arise, And with a sound as of the trump of doom Whelm from all eyes for aye yon living tomb, Wherein the martyr patriots groaned for years, A prey to hunger and the bitter jeers Of foes in whose relentless breasts no room Was ever found for pity or remorse; But haunting anger and a savage hate, That spared not e’en their victim’s very corse, But left it, outcast, to its carrion fate Wherefore, arise, O Sea! and sternly sweep This floating dungeon to thy lowest deep
O Sea! in your unfathomable darkness A world lost in wreck and ruin exists, In your avenging power, rise up, And with a sound like the trumpet of doom Cover from all sight forever that living tomb, Where the martyr patriots suffered for years, A victim to hunger and the cruel jeers Of enemies in whose hearts no space Was ever found for pity or regret; But haunting anger and fierce hate, That spared not even their victim’s remains, But left it, rejected, to its carrion fate. Therefore, arise, O Sea! and fiercely sweep This floating prison to your darkest deep.
It was stated in the portion of the eloquent oration given in our last chapter that more than 11,000 prisoners perished on board the Jersey alone, during the space of three years and a half that she was moored in the waters of Wallabout Bay. This statement has never been contradicted, as far as we know, by British authority. Yet we trust that it is exaggerated. It would give an average of more than three thousand deaths a year. The whole number of names copied from the English War Records of prisoners on board the Jersey is about 8,000. This, however, is an incomplete list. You will in vain search through its pages to find the recorded names of many prisoners who have left well attested accounts of their captivity on board that fatal vessel. All that we can say now is that the number who perished there is very great.
It was mentioned in the section of the powerful speech we shared in our last chapter that more than 11,000 prisoners died on the Jersey alone during the three and a half years it was docked in Wallabout Bay. This claim has never been disputed, as far as we know, by British officials. Still, we hope that it's an exaggeration. That figure would average over three thousand deaths a year. The total number of names taken from the English War Records of prisoners on the Jersey is about 8,000. However, this list is incomplete. You will fruitlessly search its pages for the recorded names of many prisoners who have provided well-documented accounts of their time on that doomed ship. All we can say for now is that the number of deaths there is extremely high.
As late as 1841 the bones of many of these victims were still to be found on the shores of Walabout Bay, in and around the Navy Yard. On the 4th of February of that year some workmen, while engaged in digging away an embankment in Jackson Street, Brooklyn, near the Navy Yard, accidentally uncovered a quantity of human bones, among which was a skeleton having a pair of iron manacles still upon the wrists. (See Thompson’s History of Long Island, Vol. 1, page 247.)
As late as 1841, the remains of many of these victims could still be found on the shores of Walabout Bay, in and around the Navy Yard. On February 4th of that year, some workers, while digging away an embankment on Jackson Street in Brooklyn, near the Navy Yard, accidentally uncovered a number of human bones, including a skeleton with a pair of iron shackles still on the wrists. (See Thompson’s History of Long Island, Vol. 1, page 247.)
In a paper published at Fishkill on the 18th of May, 1783, is the following card: “To All Printers, of Public Newspapers:—Tell it to the world, and let it be published in every Newspaper throughout America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, to the everlasting disgrace and infamy of the British King’s commanders at New York: That during the late war it is said that 11,644 American prisoners have suffered death by their inhuman, cruel, savage, and barbarous usage on board the filthy and malignant British prison ship called the Jersey, lying at New York. Britons tremble, lest the vengeance of Heaven fall on your isle, for the blood of these unfortunate victims!
In a paper published in Fishkill on May 18, 1783, there’s the following announcement: “To All Printers of Public Newspapers:—Spread the word to everyone, and let it be printed in every newspaper across America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, for the lasting disgrace and infamy of the British King’s commanders in New York: It is reported that during the recent war, 11,644 American prisoners died due to the inhumane, cruel, savage, and barbaric treatment they received on board the filthy and malicious British prison ship known as the Jersey, docked in New York. Britons should tremble, lest the wrath of Heaven descend upon your island for the blood of these unfortunate victims!"
“An American”
“They died, the young, the loved, the brave,
The death barge came for them,
And where the seas yon black rocks lave
Is heard their requiem
They buried them and threw the sand
Unhallowed o’er that patriot band
The black ship like a demon sate
Upon the prowling deep,
From her came fearful sounds of hate,
Till pain stilled all in sleep
It was the sleep that victims take,
Tied, tortured, dying, at the stake.
Yet some the deep has now updug,
Their bones are in the sun,
Whether by sword or deadly drug
They perished, one by one,
Was it not dread for mortal eye
To see them all so strangely die?
Are there those murdered men who died
For freedom and for me?
They seem to point, in martyred pride
To that spot upon the sea
From whence came once the frenzied yell,
From out that wreck, that prison hell”
“An American”
“They died, the young, the cherished, the brave,
The death barge came for them,
And where the seas wash against the black rocks
Their requiem is heard.
They buried them and tossed the sand
Unholy over that patriot band.
The black ship sat like a demon
On the prowling deep,
From her came terrifying sounds of hate,
Until pain silenced everything in sleep.
It was the sleep that victims take,
Tied, tortured, dying at the stake.
Yet some the deep has now brought up,
Their bones are in the sun,
Whether by sword or deadly drug
They perished, one by one.
Was it not terrifying for mortal eyes
To see them all die in such a strange way?
Are there those murdered men who died
For freedom and for me?
They seem to point, in martyred pride,
To that spot upon the sea
From where once came the frenzied yell,
From out that wreck, that prison hell.”This rough but strong old poem was written many years ago by a Mr. Whitman We have taken the liberty of retouching it to a slight degree.
This rough but strong old poem was written many years ago by a Mr. Whitman We have taken the liberty of updating it a little bit.
It is well known that twenty hogsheads of bones were collected in 1808 from the shores of the Wallabout, and buried under the auspices of the Tammany Society in a vault prepared for the purpose. These were but a small part of the remains of the victims of the prison ships. Many were, as we have seen, washed into the sea, and many more were interred on the shores of New York Harbor, before the prison ships were removed to the Wallabout. It will be better that we should give the accounts left to us by eye witnesses of the sufferings on board these prison ships, and we will therefore quote from the narrative of John Van Dyke, who was confined on board the Jersey before her removal to the Wallabout.
It is well known that twenty hogsheads of bones were collected in 1808 from the shores of the Wallabout and buried under the direction of the Tammany Society in a vault prepared for this purpose. These were just a small portion of the remains of the victims of the prison ships. Many were, as we have seen, washed into the sea, and many more were buried on the shores of New York Harbor before the prison ships were moved to the Wallabout. It’s better that we share the accounts left to us by eyewitnesses of the suffering on board these prison ships, so we will quote from the narrative of John Van Dyke, who was held on board the Jersey before it was moved to the Wallabout.
Captain John Van Dyke was taken prisoner in May, 1780, at which time he says: “We were put on board the prison ship Jersey, anchored off Fly Market. (New York City) This ship had been a hospital ship. When I came on board her stench was so great, and my breathing this putrid air—I thought it would kill me, but after being on board some days I got used to it, and as though all was a common smell. * * *
Captain John Van Dyke was captured in May 1780, when he said: “We were put on the prison ship Jersey, anchored off Fly Market. (New York City) This ship had previously been a hospital ship. When I first got on board, the stench was overwhelming, and breathing that foul air—I thought it would kill me, but after a few days, I got used to it, and it felt like just another ordinary smell. * * *
“On board the Jersey prison ship it was short allowance, so short a person would think it was not possible for a man to live on. They starved the American prisoners to make them enlist in their service. I will now relate a fact. Every man in a mess of six took his daily turn to get the mess’s provisions. One day I went to the galley and drew a piece of salt, boiled pork. I went to our mess to divide it. * * * I cut each one his share, and each one eat our day’s allowance in one mouthful of this salt pork and nothing else. One day called peaday I took the drawer of our doctor’s chest (Dr. Hodges of Philadelphia) and went to the galley, which was the cooking place, with my drawer for a soup dish. I held it under a large brass cock, the cook turned it. I received the allowance of my mess, and behold! Brown water, and fifteen floating peas—no peas on the bottom of my drawer, and this for six men’s allowance for 24 hours. The peas were all in the bottom of the kettle. Those left would be taken to New York and, I suppose, sold.
“On board the Jersey prison ship, the food rations were so meager that you'd think it was impossible for anyone to survive. They starved the American prisoners to force them to enlist in their army. Let me share a fact. Each man in a group of six took turns getting the group’s food supplies. One day, I went to the kitchen and got a piece of salt, boiled pork. I returned to our group to divide it. * * * I cut each person their share, and every one of us ate our day's allowance in one bite of this salt pork and nothing else. On a day called peaday, I took the drawer from our doctor’s chest (Dr. Hodges of Philadelphia) and went to the kitchen, which was where the cooking happened, with my drawer to use as a soup dish. I held it under a large brass faucet, and the cook turned it on. I received the food for my group, and guess what! Brown water, and fifteen floating peas—none on the bottom of my drawer, and this was supposed to be enough for six men for 24 hours. The peas were all settled at the bottom of the pot. What was left would be taken to New York and, I suppose, sold."
“One day in the week, called pudding day, we would receive three pounds of damaged flour, in it would be green lumps such as their men would not eat, and one pound of very bad raisins, one third raisin sticks. We would pick out the sticks, mash the lumps of flour, put all with some water into our drawer, mix our pudding and put it into a bag and boil it with a tally tied to it with the number of our mess. This was a day’s allowance. We, for some time, drew a half pint of rum for each man. One day Captain Lard (Laird) who commanded the ship Jersey, came on board. As soon as he was on the main deck of the ship he cried out for the boatswain. The boatswain arrived and in a very quick motion, took off his hat. There being on deck two half hogshead tubs where our allowance of rum was mixed into grog, Captain L., said, ‘Have the prisoners had their allowance of rum today?’ ‘No, sir’ answered the boatswain. Captain L. replied, ‘Damn your soul, you rascal, heave it overboard.’
“One day a week, known as pudding day, we would get three pounds of spoiled flour, which had green lumps that even their men wouldn't eat, and one pound of really bad raisins, about a third of which were sticks. We would pick out the sticks, mash the lumps of flour, mix it all with some water in our drawer, and put our pudding into a bag, boiling it with a tag tied to it that had our mess number on it. This was our daily ration. For a while, each man received half a pint of rum. One day, Captain Lard (Laird), who was in charge of the ship Jersey, came on board. As soon as he stepped onto the main deck, he called for the boatswain. The boatswain quickly arrived and took off his hat. On deck, there were two half hogshead tubs where our rum was mixed into grog. Captain L. asked, ‘Have the prisoners had their rum allowance today?’ The boatswain replied, ‘No, sir.’ Captain L. said, ‘Damn your soul, you rascal, heave it overboard.’”
“The boatswain, with help, upset the tubs of rum on the middle deck. The grog rum run out of the scuppers of the ship into the river. I saw no more grog on board. * * * Every fair day a number of British officers and sergeants would come on board, form in two ranks on the quarter deck, facing inwards, the prisoners in the after part of the quarter deck. As the boatswain would call a name, the word would be ‘Pass!’ As the prisoners passed between the ranks officers and sergeants stared them in the face. This was done to catch deserters, and if they caught nothing the sergeants would come on the middle deck and cry out ‘Five guineas bounty to any man that will enter his Majesty’s service!’
“The boatswain, with some help, knocked over the tubs of rum on the middle deck. The grog ran out of the ship’s scuppers and into the river. I didn’t see any more grog on board. * * * Every fair day, a group of British officers and sergeants would come on board, line up in two rows on the quarter deck, facing each other, while the prisoners stood in the back part of the quarter deck. As the boatswain called out a name, the command would be ‘Pass!’ As the prisoners walked between the lines, the officers and sergeants stared them in the face. This was to catch deserters, and if they didn’t catch anyone, the sergeants would come to the middle deck and shout, ‘Five guineas bounty to any man who will join His Majesty’s service!’”
“Shortly after this party left the ship a Hessian party would come on board, and the prisoners had to go through the same routine of duty again.
“Shortly after this group left the ship, a Hessian group would come on board, and the prisoners had to go through the same routine of duty again."
“From the Jersey prison ship eighty of us were taken to the pink stern sloop-of-war Hunter, Captain Thomas Henderson, Commander. We were taken there in a large ship’s long boat, towed by a ten-oar barge, and one other barge with a guard of soldiers in the rear.
“From the Jersey prison ship, eighty of us were taken to the pink stern sloop-of-war Hunter, Captain Thomas Henderson in command. We were transported there in a large ship's longboat, towed by a ten-oar barge, along with another barge that had a guard of soldiers in the rear.
“On board the ship Hunter we drew one third allowance, and every Monday we received a loaf of wet bread, weighing seven pounds for each mess. This loaf was from Mr. John Pintard’s father, of New York, the American Commissary, and this bread, with the allowance of provisions, we found sufficient to live on.
“On board the ship Hunter, we were given a third of our ration, and every Monday we received a loaf of soggy bread that weighed seven pounds for each group. This loaf came from Mr. John Pintard’s father in New York, who was the American Commissary, and with this bread along with our food allowance, we found it enough to survive on."
“After we had been on board some time Mr. David Sproat, the British Commissary of prisoners, came on board; all the prisoners were ordered aft; the roll was called and as each man passed him Mr. Sproat would ask, ‘Are you a seaman?’ The answer was ‘Landsman, landsman.’ There were ten landsmen to one answer of half seaman. When the roll was finished Mr. Sproat said to our sea officers, ‘Gentlemen, how do you make out at sea, for the most part of you are landsmen?’
“After we had been on board for a while, Mr. David Sproat, the British Commissary of prisoners, came on board; all the prisoners were ordered to the back; the roll was called and as each man passed him, Mr. Sproat would ask, ‘Are you a seaman?’ The answer was ‘Landsman, landsman.’ There were ten landsmen for every one who answered half-seaman. When the roll was finished, Mr. Sproat said to our sea officers, ‘Gentlemen, how do you manage at sea, since most of you are landsmen?’”
“Our officers answered: ‘You hear often how we make out. When we meet our force, or rather more than our force we give a good account of them.’
“Our officers responded, ‘You often hear about how we fare. When we face our opponents, or even more than our opponents, we put up a strong fight against them.’”
“Mr. Sproat asked, ‘And are not your vessels better manned than these. Our officers replied, ‘Mr Sproat, we are the best manned out of the port of Philadelphia.’ Mr. Sproat shrugged his shoulders saying, ‘I cannot see how you do it.’”
“Mr. Sproat asked, ‘Aren’t your ships crewed better than these?’ Our officers replied, ‘Mr. Sproat, we have the best crew out of the port of Philadelphia.’ Mr. Sproat shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘I don’t see how you do it.’”
We do not understand what John Van Dyke meant by his expression “half seaman.” It is probable that the sailors among the prisoners pretended to be soldiers in order to be exchanged. There was much more difficulty in exchanging sailors than soldiers, as we shall see. David Sproat was the British Commissary for Naval Prisoners alone. In a paper published in New York in April 28th, 1780, appears the following notice:—“I do hereby direct all Captains, Commanders, Masters, and Prize Masters of ships and other vessels, who bring naval prisoners into this port, immediately to send a list of their names to this office, No. 33 Maiden Lane, where they will receive an order how to dispose of them.
We don't really get what John Van Dyke meant by “half seaman.” It's likely that the sailors among the prisoners acted like soldiers to secure an exchange. It was much harder to exchange sailors than soldiers, as we'll see later. David Sproat was the British Commissary specifically for Naval Prisoners. In a notice published in New York on April 28th, 1780, it stated: “I hereby direct all Captains, Commanders, Masters, and Prize Masters of ships and other vessels bringing naval prisoners to this port to immediately send a list of their names to this office, No. 33 Maiden Lane, where they will receive instructions on how to handle them.”
“(Signed) David Sproat.”
“(Signed) David Sproat.”
The Jersey and some of the other prison ships often had landsmen among their prisoners, at least until the last years of the war, when they were so overcrowded with sailors, that there must have been scant room for any one else.
The Jersey and several of the other prison ships often held civilian prisoners, at least until the final years of the war, when they became so overcrowded with sailors that there was barely any room for anyone else.
The next prisoner whose recollections we will consider is Captain Silas Talbot, who was confined on board the Jersey in the fall of 1780. He says: “All her port holes were closed. * * * There were about 1,100 prisoners on board. There were no berths or seats, to lie down on, not a bench to sit on. Many were almost without cloaths. The dysentery, fever, phrenzy and despair prevailed among them, and filled the place with filth, disgust and horror. The scantiness of the allowance, the bad quality of the provisions, the brutality of the guards, and the sick, pining for comforts they could not obtain, altogether furnished continually one of the greatest scenes of human distress and misery ever beheld. It was now the middle of October, the weather was cool and clear, with frosty nights, so that the number of deaths per day was reduced to an average of ten, and this number was considered by the survivors a small one, when compared with the terrible mortality that had prevailed for three months before. The human bones and skulls, yet bleaching on the shore of Long Island, and daily exposed, by the falling down of the high bank on which the prisoners were buried, is a shocking sight, and manifestly demonstrates that the Jersey prison ship had been as destructive as a field of battle.”
The next prisoner we’ll discuss is Captain Silas Talbot, who was held on the Jersey in the fall of 1780. He says: “All her port holes were closed. * * * There were about 1,100 prisoners on board. There were no beds or seats to lie on, not even a bench to sit on. Many were nearly without clothes. Dysentery, fever, madness, and despair were rampant among them, filling the place with filth, disgust, and horror. The meager rations, the poor quality of the food, the cruelty of the guards, and the sick longing for comforts they couldn’t get combined to create one of the greatest scenes of human suffering and misery ever witnessed. It was now the middle of October, the weather was cool and clear, with frosty nights, so the average number of deaths per day dropped to ten, which the survivors considered a small number compared to the terrible death toll that had occurred over the previous three months. The human bones and skulls still bleaching on the shore of Long Island, exposed daily by the crumbling high bank where the prisoners were buried, is a shocking sight, clearly showing that the Jersey prison ship had been as deadly as a battlefield.”
CHAPTER XXVI. — THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX. —
Ebenezer Fox, a prisoner on board the Jersey, wrote a little book about his dreadful experiences when he was a very old man. The book was written in 1838, and published by Charles Fox in Boston in 1848. Ebenezer Fox was born in the East Parish of Roxbury, Mass., in 1763. In the spring of 1775 he and another boy named Kelly ran away to sea. Fox shipped as a cabin boy in a vessel commanded by Captain Joseph Manchester.
Ebenezer Fox, a prisoner on the Jersey, wrote a small book about his terrible experiences when he was very old. The book was written in 1838 and published by Charles Fox in Boston in 1848. Ebenezer Fox was born in the East Parish of Roxbury, Mass., in 1763. In the spring of 1775, he and another boy named Kelly ran away to sea. Fox worked as a cabin boy on a ship commanded by Captain Joseph Manchester.
He made several cruises and returned home. In 1779 he enlisted, going as a substitute for the barber to whom he was apprenticed. His company was commanded by Captain William Bird of Boston in a regiment under Colonel Proctor. Afterwards he signed ship’s papers and entered the naval service on a twenty gun ship called the Protector, Captain John F. Williams of Massachusetts. On the lst of April, 1780, they sailed for a six months cruise, and on the ninth of June, 1780, fought the Admiral Duff until she took fire and blew up. A short time afterwards the Protector was captured by two English ships called the Roebuck and Mayday.
He went on several voyages and then returned home. In 1779, he signed up, serving as a substitute for the barber he was apprenticed to. His company was led by Captain William Bird from Boston in a regiment under Colonel Proctor. Later, he signed ship's papers and joined the navy on a twenty-gun ship called the Protector, with Captain John F. Williams from Massachusetts. On April 1, 1780, they set sail for a six-month cruise, and on June 9, 1780, they fought the Admiral Duff until it caught fire and exploded. Shortly after, the Protector was captured by two British ships, the Roebuck and the Mayday.
Fox concealed fifteen dollars in the crown of his hat, and fifteen more in the soles of his shoes.
Fox hid fifteen dollars in the top of his hat and another fifteen in the bottoms of his shoes.
All the prisoners were sent into the hold. One third of the crew of the Protector were pressed into the British service. The others were sent to the Jersey. Evidently this prison ship had already become notorious, for Fox writes: “The idea of being incarcerated in this floating pandemonium filled us with horror, but the ideas we had formed of its horror fell far short of the reality. * * * The Jersey was removed from the East River, and moored with chain cables at the Wallabout in consequence of the fears entertained that the sickness which prevailed among the prisoners might spread to the shore. * * * I now found myself in a loathsome prison, among a collection of the most wretched and disgusting looking objects that I ever beheld in human form.
All the prisoners were taken to the hold. One third of the crew of the Protector was forced into British service. The rest were sent to the Jersey. Clearly, this prison ship had already gained a bad reputation, because Fox wrote: “The thought of being locked up in this floating hell was terrifying, but our expectations of its horror were nothing compared to the reality. * * * The Jersey was moved from the East River and anchored with chain cables at the Wallabout due to concerns that the sickness affecting the prisoners might spread to the shore. * * * I now found myself in a disgusting prison, surrounded by a group of the most wretched and repulsive-looking people I had ever seen in human form.
“Here was a motley crew, covered with rags and filth; visages pallid with disease; emaciated with hunger and anxiety; and hardly retaining a trace of their original appearance. Here were men, who had once enjoyed life while riding over the mountain wave or roaming through pleasant fields, full of health and vigor, now shrivelled by a scanty and unwholesome diet, ghastly with inhaling an impure atmosphere, exposed to contagion; in contact with disease, and surrounded with the horrors of sickness, and death. Here, thought I, must I linger out the morning of my life” (he was seventeen) “in tedious days and sleepless nights, enduring a weary and degrading captivity, till death should terminate my sufferings, and no friend will know of my departure.
“Here was a diverse group, dressed in rags and dirt; faces pale from illness; weak from hunger and worry; barely resembling their former selves. These were men who had once lived fully, riding the waves or exploring beautiful fields, full of health and energy, now withered from a meager and unhealthy diet, looking ghostly from breathing in filthy air, exposed to illness; surrounded by sickness and death. Here, I thought, must I spend the early part of my life” (he was seventeen) “in endless days and sleepless nights, suffering through a tiring and humiliating captivity, until death ended my pain, and no one would know I was gone."
“A prisoner on board the ‘Old Jersey!’ The very thought was appalling. I could hardly realize my situation.
“A prisoner on board the ‘Old Jersey!’ The thought was terrifying. I could barely grasp my situation."
“The first thing we found it necessary to do after our capture was to form ourselves into small parties called messes, consisting of six in each, as previous to doing this, we could obtain no food. All the prisoners were obliged to fast on the first day of their arrival, and seldom on the second could they obtain any food in season for cooking it. * * * All the prisoners fared alike; officers and sailors received the same treatment on board of this old hulk. * * * We were all ‘rebels.’ The only distinction known among us was made by the prisoners themselves, which was shown in allowing those who had been officers previous to their captivity, to congregate in the extreme afterpart of the ship, and to keep it exclusively to themselves as their place of abode. * * * The prisoners were confined in the two main decks below. The lowest dungeon was inhabited by those prisoners who were foreigners, and whose treatment was more severe than that of the Americans.
“The first thing we found necessary to do after we were captured was to form small groups called messes, each made up of six people, because before we did this, we couldn’t get any food. All the prisoners had to go without food on the first day of their arrival, and it was rare to find anything to eat that could be cooked on the second day. * * * All the prisoners were treated the same; officers and sailors received the same treatment on this old ship. * * * We were all considered ‘rebels.’ The only distinction among us was made by the prisoners themselves, who allowed those who had been officers before their capture to gather at the back of the ship and keep that area strictly for themselves. * * * The prisoners were held in the two main decks below. The lowest deck was occupied by foreign prisoners, who faced harsher treatment than the Americans.”
“The inhabitants of this lower region were the most miserable and disgusting looking objects that can be conceived. Daily washing in salt water, together with their extreme emaciation, caused the skin to appear like dried parchment. Many of them remained unwashed for weeks; their hair long, and matted, and filled with vermin; their beards never cut except occasionally with a pair of shears, which did not improve their comeliness, though it might add to their comfort. Their clothes were mere rags, secured to their bodies in every way that ingenuity could devise.
“The people living in this lower region were the most miserable and unpleasant-looking beings you could imagine. Daily washing in salt water, combined with their extreme thinness, made their skin look like dried parchment. Many of them went unwashed for weeks; their hair was long, tangled, and infested with lice; their beards were only trimmed occasionally with a pair of shears, which didn’t make them look any better, though it might have made them a bit more comfortable. Their clothes were nothing but rags, somehow fastened to their bodies in every way ingenuity could come up with.”
“Many of these men had been in this lamentable condition for two years, part of the time on board other prison ships; and having given up all hope of ever being exchanged, had become resigned to their situation. These men were foreigners whose whole lives had been one continual scene of toil, hardship, and suffering. Their feelings were blunted; their dispositions soured; they had no sympathies for the world; no home to mourn for; no friends to lament for their fate. But far different was the condition of the most numerous class of prisoners, composed mostly of young men from New England, fresh from home.
“Many of these men had been in this terrible situation for two years, some of that time on other prison ships; and having lost all hope of ever being exchanged, they had accepted their fate. These men were foreigners whose entire lives had been filled with hard work, struggle, and suffering. Their emotions were dulled; their attitudes had become bitter; they had no feelings for the outside world; no home to grieve for; no friends to mourn their fate. But the situation was completely different for the largest group of prisoners, mainly young men from New England, recently away from home.”
“They had reason to deplore the sudden change in their condition. * * * The thoughts of home, of parents, brothers, sisters, and friends, would crowd upon their minds, and brooding on what they had been, and what they were, their desire for home became a madness. The dismal and disgusting scene around; the wretched objects continually in sight; and ‘hope deferred which maketh the heart sick’, produced a state of melancholy that often ended in death,—the death of a broken heart.”
“They had every reason to mourn the sudden shift in their situation. * * * The thoughts of home, of parents, brothers, sisters, and friends flooded their minds, and reflecting on who they had been and who they now were, their longing for home turned into an obsession. The bleak and repulsive scene surrounding them, the miserable sights constantly visible, and the ‘hope deferred that makes the heart sick’ created a deep sadness that often led to death—the death of a broken heart.”
Fox describes the food and drink, the prison regulations, deaths, and burials, just as they were described by Captain Dring, who wrote the fullest account of the Jersey, and from whose memoirs we shall quote further on. He says of their shallow graves in the sand of the Wallabout: “This was the last resting place of many a son and a brother,—young and noble-spirited men, who had left their happy homes and kind friends to offer their lives in the service of their country. * * * Poor fellows! They suffered more than their older companions in misery. They could not endure their hopeless and wearisome captivity:—to live on from day to day, denied the power of doing anything; condemned to that most irksome and heart-sickening of all situations, utter inactivity; their restless and impetuous spirits, like caged lions, panted to be free, and the conflict was too much for endurance, enfeebled and worn out as they were with suffering and confinement. * * * The fate of many of these unhappy victims must have remained forever unknown to their friends; for in so large a number, no exact account could be kept of those who died, and they rested in a nameless grave; while those who performed the last sad rites were hurried away before their task was half completed, and forbid to express their horror and indignation at this insulting negligence towards the dead. * * *
Fox talks about the food and drink, prison rules, deaths, and burials, just as Captain Dring described them in his detailed account of the Jersey, from which we will quote later. He mentions the shallow graves in the Wallabout sand: “This was the final resting place for many a son and brother—young, noble-spirited men who left their happy homes and loving friends to give their lives for their country. * * * Poor guys! They suffered more than their older companions in misery. They couldn't stand their hopeless and exhausting captivity—living from day to day, denied the ability to do anything; stuck in that most annoying and soul-crushing of all situations, total inactivity; their restless and fiery spirits, like caged lions, longed to be free, and the struggle was too much to bear, especially since they were already weakened and worn down by suffering and confinement. * * * Many of these unfortunate victims' fates must have remained forever unknown to their friends; with so many, no accurate record could be kept of who died, and they ended up in nameless graves; meanwhile, those who carried out the last sad rites were rushed away before finishing their task, forbidden to express their horror and anger at this disgraceful neglect of the dead. * * *
“The regular crew of the Jersey consisted of a Captain, two Mates, a steward, a cook, and about twelve sailors. There was likewise on board a guard of about thirty soldiers, from the different regiments quartered on Long Island, who were relieved by a fresh party every week.
“The regular crew of the Jersey included a Captain, two Mates, a steward, a cook, and around twelve sailors. There was also a guard of about thirty soldiers from various regiments stationed on Long Island, who were replaced by a new group every week.”
“The physical force of the prisoners was sufficient at any time to take possession of the ship, but the difficulty was to dispose of themselves after a successful attempt. Long Island was in possession of the British, and the inhabitants were favorable to the British cause. To leave the ship and land on the island, would be followed by almost certain detection; and the miseries of our captivity would be increased by additional cruelties heaped upon us from the vindictive feelings of our oppressors.
“The physical strength of the prisoners was enough at any time to take over the ship, but the challenge was figuring out what to do after a successful attempt. Long Island was under British control, and the locals supported the British cause. Leaving the ship and landing on the island would likely lead to detection, and the hardships of our captivity would be worsened by more cruelty from the vengeful feelings of our captors."
“Yet, small as was the chance for succeeding in the undertaking, the attempt to escape was often made, and in not a few instances with success.
“Still, even though the chances of succeeding in the attempt were small, people often tried to escape, and in some cases, they were successful.”
“Our sufferings were so intolerable, that we felt it to be our duty to expose ourselves to almost any risk to obtain our liberty. To remain on board of the prison ship seemed to be certain death, and in its most horrid form; to be killed, while endeavoring to get away, could be no worse.
“Our sufferings were so unbearable that we felt it was our responsibility to put ourselves at almost any risk to gain our freedom. Staying on the prison ship felt like a sure death, and in the worst way; being killed while trying to escape couldn’t be any worse.”
“American prisoners are proverbial for their ingenuity in devising ways and means to accomplish their plans, whether they be devised for their own comfort and benefit, or for the purpose of annoying and tormenting their keepers.
“American prisoners are known for their creativity in coming up with ways to achieve their goals, whether those goals are for their own comfort and benefit or for the purpose of bothering and tormenting their guards.
“Although we were guarded with vigilance yet there did not appear much system in the management of the prisoners; for we frequently missed a whole mess from our number, while their disappearance was not noticed by our keepers. Occasionally a few would be brought back who had been found in the woods upon Long Island, and taken up by the Tories.
“Even though we were cautious, there didn’t seem to be much order in managing the prisoners; we often noticed an entire group missing from our number, and our guards didn’t seem to notice their absence. Sometimes, a few would be returned after being discovered in the woods on Long Island, having been captured by the Tories."
“Our mess one day noticed that the mess that occupied the place next to them were among the missing. This circumstance led to much conjecture and inquiry respecting the manner in which they had effected their escape. By watching the movements of our neighbors we soon found out the process necessary to be adopted.
“Our group one day noticed that the group next to us had gone missing. This situation led to a lot of speculation and questions about how they managed to escape. By observing our neighbors' actions, we quickly figured out the steps we needed to take.”
“Any plan which a mess had formed they kept a secret among their number, in order to insure a greater prospect of success. * * * For the convenience of the officers of the ship a closet, called the “round house”, had been constructed under the forecastle, the door of which was kept locked. This room was seldom used, there being other conveniences in the ship preferable to it.
“Any plan that the crew formed was kept secret among themselves to increase the chances of success. * * * For the convenience of the ship's officers, a closet known as the “round house” was built under the forecastle, and the door was kept locked. This room was rarely used, as there were other more preferable facilities on the ship.”
“Some of the prisoners had contrived to pick the lock of the door; and as it was not discovered the door remained unfastened.
“Some of the prisoners had managed to pick the lock of the door; and since it wasn’t discovered, the door stayed unlocked.”
“After we had missed our neighbor prisoners, and had ascertained to our satisfaction their mode of operation, the members of our mess determined to seize the first opportunity that offered to attempt our escape. We selected a day, about the 15th of August, and made all the preparations in our power for ensuring us success in our undertaking. At sunset, when the usual cry from the officer of the guard, ‘Down, rebels, down!’ was heard, instead of following the multitude down the hatchways, our mess, consisting of six, all Americans, succeeded in getting into the ‘round house’, except one. The round house was found too small to contain more than five; and the sixth man, whose name, I think, was Putnam of Boston, concealed himself under a large tub, which happened to be lying near the place of our confinement. The situation of the five, as closely packed in the round house as we could stand and breathe, was so uncomfortable as to make us very desirous of vacating it as soon as possible.
“After we missed our neighbor prisoners and figured out their way of working, our group decided to take the first chance we got to try to escape. We picked a day around the 15th of August and made all the preparations we could to ensure our success. At sunset, when we heard the usual shout from the guard, ‘Down, rebels, down!’ instead of following everyone else down the hatchways, our group of six Americans managed to get into the ‘round house,’ except for one. The round house was too small for more than five of us, so the sixth man, whose name I think was Putnam from Boston, hid under a big tub that happened to be lying near our confinement. The situation for the five of us, packed tightly in the round house as we could stand and breathe, was so uncomfortable that we were very eager to leave it as soon as possible.”
“We remained thus cooped up, hardly daring to breathe, for fear we should be heard by the guard. The prisoners were all below, and no noise was heard above, saving the tramp of the guard as he paced the deck. It was customary, after the prisoners were secured below, for the ship’s mate every night to search above; this, however, was considered a mere formality, and the duty was very imperfectly executed. While we were anxiously awaiting the completion of this service, an event transpired, that we little anticipated, and which led to our detection.
"We stayed shut up like that, barely daring to breathe, worried that the guard might hear us. The prisoners were all below, and there was no noise above except for the guard's footsteps as he walked the deck. It was routine for the ship’s mate to search above every night after securing the prisoners below; however, this was seen as just a formality, and the job was done very poorly. As we anxiously waited for this task to be finished, something happened that we never saw coming, and it resulted in our discovery."
“One of the prisoners, an Irishman, had made his arrangements to escape the same evening, and had not communicated with any one on the subject except a countryman of his, whom he persuaded to bury him up in the coal hole, near the forecastle.
“One of the prisoners, an Irishman, had made his plans to escape that same evening and had only shared the details with one other person, a fellow countryman, whom he convinced to bury him in the coal hole near the forecastle.”
“Whether his friend covered him faithfully or not, or whether the Irishman thought that if he could not see anybody, nobody could see him, or whether, feeling uncomfortable in his position, he turned over to relieve himself, I know not; but when the mate looked in the coal hole he espied something rather whiter than the coal, which he soon ascertained to be the Irishman’s shoulder. This discovery made the officer suspicious, and induced him to make a more thorough search than usual.
“Whether his friend was really looking out for him or not, or if the Irishman believed that if he couldn’t see anyone, then no one could see him, or if he just felt uncomfortable and shifted to ease himself, I don’t know; but when the mate checked the coal hole, he spotted something much whiter than the coal, which he quickly realized was the Irishman's shoulder. This finding made the officer suspicious and prompted him to conduct a more thorough search than usual.”
“We heard the uproar that followed the discovery, and the threats of the mate that he would search every damned corner. He soon arrived at the round house, and we heard him ask a soldier for the key. Our hopes and expectations were a little raised when we heard the soldier reply, ‘There is no need of searching this place, for the door is kept constantly locked.’
“We heard the commotion that followed the discovery, along with the mate's threats that he would search every single corner. He quickly showed up at the round house, and we heard him ask a soldier for the key. Our hopes and expectations lifted a bit when we heard the soldier respond, ‘There’s no need to search this place, as the door is always kept locked.’”
“But the mate was not to be diverted from his purpose, and ordered the soldier to get the key.
“But the mate was determined to stick to his plan and told the soldier to get the key."
“During the absence of the soldier, we had a little time to reflect upon the dangers of our situation; crowded together in a space so small as not to admit of motion; with no other protection than the thickness of a board; guarded on the outside by about twelve soldiers, armed with cutlasses, and the mate, considerably drunk, with a pistol in each hand, threatening every moment to fire through;—our feelings may be more easily conceived than described. There was but little time for deliberation; something must be immediately done. * * * In a whispered consultation of some moments, we conceived that the safest course we could pursue would be to break out with all the violence we could exercise, overcome every obstacle, and reach the quarter-deck. By this time the soldier had arrived with the key, and upon applying it, the door was found to be unlocked. We now heard our last summons from the mate, with imprecations too horrible to be repeated, and threatening us with instant destruction if we did not immediately come out.
“While the soldier was away, we had a moment to think about how dangerous our situation was; huddled together in a space so tight we couldn’t move; with nothing to protect us except the thickness of a board; surrounded outside by about twelve soldiers armed with cutlasses, and the mate, quite drunk, holding a pistol in each hand, threatening to fire at any moment;—our feelings were more easily imagined than described. There was little time to think things through; we needed to act fast. * * * After a brief whispered discussion, we decided that the safest thing to do was to break out with every bit of force we had, tackle every obstacle, and make it to the quarter-deck. By this time, the soldier had arrived with the key, and when he tried it, we found the door was unlocked. We then heard our final call from the mate, with curses too awful to repeat, threatening us with immediate destruction if we didn’t come out right away.
“To remain any longer where we were would have been certain death to some of us; we therefore carried our hastily formed plan into execution. The door opened outwards, and forming ourselves into a solid body, we burst open the door, rushed out pellmell, and making a brisk use of our fists, knocked the guard heels over head in all directions, at the same time running with all possible speed for the quarter-deck. As I rushed out, being in the rear, I received a wound from a cutlass on my side, the scar of which remains to this day.
“To stay any longer where we were would have meant certain death for some of us; so we quickly put our plan into action. The door opened outward, and forming ourselves into a strong group, we burst it open, rushed out in a frenzy, and used our fists energetically to knock the guard down in every direction while sprinting as fast as we could toward the quarter-deck. As I charged out, being at the back, I got cut by a cutlass on my side, and the scar still remains to this day.”
“As nearly all the guards were prostrated by our unexpected sally, we arrived at our destined place, without being pursued by anything but curses and threats.
“As almost all the guards were taken by surprise by our sudden attack, we reached our intended destination, without being chased by anything except for curses and threats.
“The mate exercised his authority to protect us from the rage of the soldiers, who were in pursuit of us, as soon as they had recovered from the prostration into which they had been thrown; and, with the assistance of the Captain’s mistress, whom the noise had brought upon deck, and whose sympathy was excited when she saw we were about to be murdered: she placed herself between us and the enraged guard, and made such an outcry as to bring the Captain” (Laird) “up, who ordered the guard to take their station at a little distance and to watch us narrowly. We were all put in irons, our feet being fastened to a long bar, a guard placed over us, and in this situation we were left to pass the night.
“The mate used his authority to shield us from the soldiers’ anger, who were chasing us after they had recovered from their previous shock. With the help of the Captain’s mistress, who came up on deck because of the commotion, her sympathy was stirred when she saw that we were about to be killed. She stood between us and the furious guards and made such a scene that it caught the Captain’s attention, who came up and ordered the guards to take a position a bit farther away while keeping a close eye on us. We were all put in shackles, our feet secured to a long bar, and a guard was assigned to watch over us, and in this state, we were left to spend the night.
“During the time of the transactions related, our fellow prisoner, Putnam, remained quietly under the tub, and heard the noise from his hiding place. He was not suffered to remain long in suspense. A soldier lifted up the tub, and seeing the poor prisoner, thrust his bayonet into his body, just above his hip, and then drove him to the quarter-deck, to take his place in irons among us. The blood flowed profusely from his wound, and he was soon after sent on board the hospital ship, and we never heard anything respecting him afterwards.
“During the time of the transactions mentioned, our fellow prisoner, Putnam, stayed quietly under the tub and heard the noise from his hiding spot. He didn't stay in suspense for long. A soldier lifted the tub, saw the poor prisoner, and stabbed him with his bayonet, just above his hip. Then, he brought him to the quarter-deck to join us in chains. Blood flowed heavily from his wound, and he was soon sent to the hospital ship, after which we never heard anything about him again.”
“With disappointed expectations we passed a dreary night. A cold fog, followed by rain, came on; to which we were exposed, without any blankets or covering to protect us from the inclemency of the weather. Our sufferings of mind and body during that horrible night, exceeded any that I have ever experienced.
“With disappointed expectations, we spent a miserable night. A cold fog, followed by rain, set in; we were left exposed, without blankets or anything to shield us from the harsh weather. Our mental and physical suffering during that awful night was worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.”
“We were chilled almost to death, and the only way we could preserve heat enough in our bodies to prevent our perishing, was to lie upon each other by turns.
“We were freezing almost to death, and the only way we could keep enough heat in our bodies to avoid dying was to lie on top of each other in shifts.
“Morning at last came, and we were released from our fetters. Our limbs were so stiff that we could hardly stand. Our fellow prisoners assisted us below, and wrapping us in blankets, we were at last restored to a state of comparative comfort.
“Finally, morning arrived, and we were freed from our restraints. Our limbs were so stiff that we could barely stand. Our fellow prisoners helped us downstairs, and after wrapping us in blankets, we were finally helped back to a state of relative comfort.”
“For attempting to escape we were punished by having our miserable allowance reduced one third in quantity for a month; and we had found the whole of it hardly sufficient to sustain life. * * *
“For trying to escape, we were punished by having our meager allowance cut by one third for a month; we had found that the entire amount was barely enough to keep us alive. * * *
“One day a boat came alongside containing about sixty firkins of grease, which they called butter. The prisoners were always ready to assist in the performance of any labor necessary to be done on board of the ship, as it afforded some little relief to the tedious monotony of their lives. On this occasion they were ready to assist in hoisting the butter on board. The firkins were first deposited upon the deck, and then lowered down the main hatchway. Some of the prisoners, who were the most officious in giving their assistance, contrived to secrete a firkin, by rolling it forward under the forecastle, and afterwards carrying it below in their bedding.
“One day, a boat pulled up alongside with about sixty containers of grease, which they called butter. The prisoners were always eager to help with any work that needed to be done on the ship because it offered a small break from the dull routine of their lives. On this occasion, they were ready to help lift the butter on board. The containers were first placed on the deck and then lowered down the main hatch. Some of the prisoners, who were the most eager to assist, managed to hide a container by rolling it under the forecastle and then taking it below in their bedding.”
“This was considered as quite a windfall; and being divided among a few of us, proved a considerable luxury. It helped to fill up the pores in our mouldy bread, when the worms were dislodged, and gave to the crumbling particles a little more consistency.
“This was seen as quite a stroke of luck; and being shared among a few of us, it turned out to be a nice treat. It helped to fill the holes in our stale bread when the worms were removed, and gave the crumbling pieces a bit more strength.”
“Several weeks after our unsuccessful attempt to escape, another one attended with better success, was made by a number of the prisoners. At sunset the prisoners were driven below, and the main hatchway was closed. In this there was a trap-door, large enough for a man to pass through, and a sentinel was placed over it with orders to permit one prisoner at a time to come up during the night.
“Several weeks after our failed attempt to escape, another one that went better was made by a group of prisoners. At sunset, the prisoners were sent below deck, and the main hatchway was closed. This hatch had a trap door big enough for a person to get through, and a guard was stationed over it with orders to let one prisoner at a time come up during the night.”
“The plan that had been formed was this:—one of the prisoners should ascend, and dispose of the sentinel in such a manner that he should be no obstacle in the way of those who were to follow.
“The plan that was made was this:—one of the prisoners would go up and take out the guard so that he wouldn’t be a problem for those who were coming next."
“Among the soldiers was an Irishman who, in consequence of having a head of hair remarkable for its curly appearance, and withal a very crabbed disposition, had been nicknamed ‘Billy the Ram’. He was the sentinel on duty this night, for one was deemed sufficient, as the prisoners were considered secure when they were below, having no other place of egress saving the trap-door, over which the sentinel was stationed.
“Among the soldiers was an Irishman who, because of his remarkably curly hair and his rather grumpy attitude, had been nicknamed ‘Billy the Ram’. He was the guard on duty that night, as one was considered enough since the prisoners were thought to be secure below, having no other way out except for the trap-door, where the guard was stationed.”
“Late in the night one of the prisoners, a bold, athletic fellow, ascended upon deck, and in an artful manner engaged the attention of Billy the Ram, in conversation respecting the war; lamenting that he had engaged in so unnatural a contest, expressing his intention of enlisting in the British service, and requesting Billy’s advice respecting the course necessary to be pursued to obtain the confidence of the officers.
“Late at night, one of the prisoners, a confident and fit guy, came up on deck and cleverly started chatting with Billy the Ram about the war. He expressed how sorry he was to be involved in such an unnatural conflict, shared his plan to enlist in the British service, and asked Billy for advice on how to gain the trust of the officers.”
“Billy happened to be in a mood to take some interest in his views, and showed an inclination, quite uncommon for him, to prolong the conversation. Unsuspicious of any evil design on the part of the prisoner, and while leaning carelessly on his gun, Billy received a tremendous blow from the fist of his entertainer on the back of his head, which brought him to the deck in a state of insensibility.
“Billy was in the mood to engage with his thoughts and surprisingly showed a rare willingness to keep the conversation going. Unaware of any malicious intent from the prisoner, he leaned casually on his gun when he received a massive punch from his host to the back of his head, knocking him out on the deck.”
“As soon as he was heard to fall by those below, who were anxiously awaiting the result of the friendly conversation of their pioneer with Billy, and were satisfied that the final knock-out argument had been given, they began to ascend, and, one after another, to jump overboard, to the number of about thirty.
“As soon as those below heard him fall, anxiously waiting for the outcome of their pioneer’s conversation with Billy, and were sure that the final argument had been made, they started to climb up and, one by one, jumped overboard, totaling about thirty.”
“The noise aroused the guard, who came upon deck, where they found Billy not sufficiently recovered from the stunning effects of the blow he had received to give any account of the transaction. A noise was heard in the water; but it was so dark that no object could be distinguished. The attention of the guard, however, was directed to certain spots which exhibited a luminous appearance, which salt water is known to assume in the night when it is agitated, and to these appearances they directed their fire, and getting out the boats, picked out about half the number that attempted to escape, many of whom were wounded, though not one was killed. The rest escaped.
“The noise woke the guard, who came onto the deck to find Billy still too dazed from the blow he had taken to explain what had happened. They heard a sound in the water, but it was so dark that they couldn't see anything. However, the guard's attention was drawn to certain spots that glowed, which saltwater is known to do at night when it's stirred up. They aimed their fire at those spots and launched the boats, capturing about half of those who tried to escape, many of whom were injured, though none were killed. The others got away.”
“During the uproar overhead the prisoners below encouraged the fugitives, and expressed their approbation of their proceedings in three hearty cheers; for which gratification we suffered our usual punishment—a short allowance of our already short and miserable fare.
“During the commotion above, the prisoners below cheered for the escapees and showed their approval with three loud cheers. As a result of this joy, we faced our usual punishment—a restricted portion of our already meager and miserable food.”
“For about a fortnight after this transaction it would have been a hazardous experiment to approach near to ‘Billy the Ram’, and it was a long time before we ventured to speak to him, and finally to obtain from him an account of the events of the evening.
“For about two weeks after this incident, it would have been risky to get too close to ‘Billy the Ram’, and it took us a long time before we dared to talk to him, and eventually get his version of what happened that evening.
“Not long after this another successful attempt to escape was made, which for its boldness is perhaps unparalleled in the history of such transactions.
“Not long after this, another successful escape attempt was made, which for its boldness is probably unmatched in the history of such events.
“One pleasant morning about ten o’clock a boat came alongside, containing a number of gentlemen from New York, who came for the purpose of gratifying themselves with a sight of the miserable tenants of the prison-ship, influenced by the same kind of curiosity that induces some people to travel a great distance to witness an execution.
“One pleasant morning at around ten o’clock, a boat approached, carrying several gentlemen from New York, who arrived to satisfy their curiosity by viewing the unfortunate inmates of the prison ship, driven by the same desire that leads some people to travel far to witness an execution.
“The boat, which was a beautiful yawl, and sat like a swan upon the water, was manned by four oarsmen, with a man at the helm. Considerable attention and respect was shown the visitors, the ship’s side being manned when they showed their intention of coming on board, and the usual naval courtesies extended. The gentlemen were soon on board; and the crew of the yawl, having secured her to the forechains on the larboard side of the ship, were permitted to ascend the deck.
“The boat, a beautiful yawl that floated like a swan on the water, had four oarsmen and a man at the helm. The visitors received a lot of attention and respect, with the ship's side manned as they indicated their intention to board, and the usual naval courtesies extended. The gentlemen quickly got on board, and the crew of the yawl, after tying her to the forechains on the left side of the ship, were allowed to come up to the deck.”
“A soldier as usual was pacing with a slow and measured tread the whole length of the deck, wheeling round with measured precision, when he arrived at the end of his walk; and whether upon this occasion, any one interested in his movements had secretly slipped a guinea into his hand, not to quicken but to retard his progress, was never known; but it was evident to the prisoners that he had never occupied so much time before in measuring the distance with his back to the place where the yawl was fastened.
A soldier was slowly pacing back and forth along the deck, turning with careful precision whenever he reached the end of his walk. It was unclear if someone had secretly slipped him a guinea this time to slow him down rather than speed him up, but the prisoners noticed that he was taking longer than usual to measure the distance with his back to where the boat was tied up.
“At this time there were sitting in the forecastle, apparently admiring the beautiful appearance of the yawl, four mates and a captain, who had been brought on board as prisoners a few days previous, taken in some vessel from a southern port.
“At this moment, four mates and a captain, who had been brought on board as prisoners a few days earlier after being taken from a ship at a southern port, were sitting in the forecastle, seemingly admiring the beautiful appearance of the yawl.”
“As soon as the sentry had passed these men, in his straightforward march, they, in a very quiet manner, lowered themselves down into the yawl, cut the rope, and the four mates taking in hand the oars, while the captain managed the helm, in less time than I have taken to describe it, they were under full sweep from the ship. They plied the oars with such vigor that every stroke they took seemed to take the boat out of the water. In the meantime the sentry heard nothing and saw nothing of this transaction, till he had arrived at the end of his march, when, in wheeling slowly round, he could no longer affect ignorance, or avoid seeing that the boat was several times its length from the ship. He immediately fired; but, whether he exercised his best skill as a marksman, or whether it was on account of the boat’s going ahead its whole length at every pull of the rowers, I could never exactly ascertain, but the ball fell harmlessly into the water. The report of the gun brought the whole guard out, who blazed away at the fugitives, without producing any dimunition in the rapidity of their progress.
“As soon as the guard passed these men, in his straightforward march, they quietly lowered themselves into the boat, cut the rope, and with the four crew members handling the oars while the captain steered, in less time than it takes to describe it, they were swiftly moving away from the ship. They rowed with such energy that every stroke seemed to lift the boat out of the water. Meanwhile, the guard noticed nothing until he reached the end of his march, when he turned around slowly and could no longer pretend he didn’t see that the boat was much farther from the ship than its length. He immediately fired, but whether it was due to his marksmanship or the boat moving a full length with each stroke of the rowers, I could never figure out, as the shot fell harmlessly into the water. The sound of the gun brought out the whole guard, who shot at the fleeing men, but it didn’t slow their escape at all.”
“By this time the officers of the ship were on deck with their visitors; and while all were gazing with astonishment at the boldness and effrontery of the achievement, the guard were firing as fast as they could load their guns. When the prisoners gave three cheers to the yawl’s crew, as an expression of their joy at their success, the Captain ordered all of us to be driven below at the point of the bayonet, and there we were confined the remainder of the day.
“By this time, the ship's officers were on deck with their visitors, and while everyone was watching in amazement at the audacity and nerve of the accomplishment, the guards were firing as quickly as they could load their guns. When the prisoners cheered three times for the yawl's crew to show their happiness at their success, the Captain ordered us all to be forced below at the point of a bayonet, and we were held there for the rest of the day.”
“These five men escaped, greatly to the mortification of the captain and officers of the prison-ship. After this, as long as I remained a prisoner, whenever any visitors came on board, all the prisoners were driven below, where they were obliged to remain till the company had departed.”
“These five men escaped, much to the embarrassment of the captain and officers of the prison ship. After that, for as long as I stayed a prisoner, whenever any visitors came on board, all the prisoners were sent below, where they had to stay until the company left.”
CHAPTER XXVII. — THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX (CONTINUED)
The miseries of our condition were continually increasing. The pestilence on board spread rapidly; and every day added to our bill of mortality. The young were its most frequent victims. The number of the prisoners was constantly augmenting, notwithstanding the frequent and successful attempts to escape. When we were mustered and called upon to answer to our names, and it was ascertained that nearly two hundred had mysteriously disappeared, without leaving any information of their departure, the officers of the ship endeavored to make amends for their past remissness by increasing the rigor of our confinement, and depriving us of all hope of adopting any of the means for liberating ourselves from our cruel thralldom, so successfully practiced by many of our comrades.
The hardships of our situation kept getting worse. The plague on board spread quickly, and every day added to our death toll. Young people were the most frequent victims. The number of prisoners kept rising, despite the many successful escape attempts. When we were gathered and called to respond to our names, and it was discovered that nearly two hundred had mysteriously vanished without any notice of their departure, the ship's officers tried to make up for their previous negligence by tightening our confinement and taking away any hope of finding ways to free ourselves from our harsh captivity, which many of our fellow prisoners had managed to do.
“With the hope that some relief might be obtained to meliorate the wretchedness of our situation, the prisoners petitioned General Clinton, commanding the British forces in New York, for permission to send a memorial to General Washington, describing our condition, and requesting his influence in our behalf, that some exchange of prisoners might be effected.
“With the hope that we could find some relief to improve the miserable state of our situation, the prisoners asked General Clinton, who was in charge of the British forces in New York, for permission to send a letter to General Washington. This letter would describe our condition and request his help to arrange for some exchange of prisoners.”
“Permission was obtained, and the memorial was sent. * * * General Washington wrote to Congress, and also to the British Commissary of Naval prisoners, remonstrating with him, deprecating the cruel treatment of the Americans, and threatening retaliation.
“Permission was granted, and the memorial was sent. * * * General Washington wrote to Congress and to the British Commissary of Naval prisoners, expressing his objections, condemning the cruel treatment of the Americans, and warning of retaliation."
“The long detention of American sailors on board of British prison-ships was to be attributed to the little pains taken by our countrymen to retain British subjects who were taken prisoner on the ocean during the war. Our privateers captured many British seamen, who, when willing to enlist in our service, as was generally the case, were received on board of our ships. Those who were brought into port were suffered to go at large; for in the impoverished condition of the country, no state or town was willing to subject itself to the expence of maintaining prisoners in a state of confinement; they were permitted to provide for themselves. In this way the number of British seamen was too small for a regular and equal exchange. Thus the British seamen, after their capture, enjoyed the blessings of liberty, the light of the sun, and the purity of the atmosphere, while the poor American sailors were compelled to drag out a miserable existence amid want and distress, famine and pestilence. As every principle of justice and humanity was disregarded by the British in their treatment of the prisoners, so likewise was every moral and legal right violated in compelling them to enter into their service.
“The extended detention of American sailors aboard British prison ships was largely due to the lack of effort by our countrymen to hold onto British subjects who were captured at sea during the war. Our privateers took many British sailors, who, when willing to join our ranks—as was often the case—were welcomed onto our ships. Those who were brought to port were allowed to go free; in the struggling state of the country, no state or town wanted to bear the cost of keeping prisoners locked up, so they were allowed to fend for themselves. As a result, the number of British sailors was too small for a proper and balanced exchange. Thus, after their capture, British sailors enjoyed the freedoms of liberty, sunshine, and clean air, while the unfortunate American sailors were forced to live a miserable life filled with scarcity, suffering, hunger, and disease. Every principle of justice and humanity was ignored by the British in their treatment of the prisoners, and every moral and legal right was violated by forcing them to serve.”
“We had obtained some information in relation to an expected draught that would soon be made upon the prisoners to fill up a complement of men that were wanted for the service of his Majesty’s fleet.
“We had received some information about an upcoming request for prisoners to fulfill the number of men needed for the service of His Majesty’s fleet.
“One day in the last part of August our fears for the dreaded event were realized. A British officer with a number of soldiers came on board. The prisoners were all ordered on deck, placed on the larboard gangway, and marched in single file round to the quarter-deck, where the officers stood to inspect them, and select such ones as suited their fancies without any reference to the rights of the prisoners. * * * We continued to march round in solemn and melancholy processsion, till they had selected from among our number about three hundred of the ablest, nearly all of whom were Americans, and they were directed to go below under a guard, to collect together whatever things they wished to take belonging to them. They were then driven into the boats, waiting alongside, and left the prison ship, not to enjoy their freedom, but to be subjected to the iron despotism, and galling slavery of a British man-of-war; to waste their lives in a foreign service; and toil for masters whom they hated. Such, however, were the horrors of our situation as prisoners, and so small was the prospect of relief, that we almost envied the lot of those who left the ship to go into the service of the enemy.
“One day in late August, our fears about the dreaded event came true. A British officer along with several soldiers boarded the ship. All the prisoners were ordered on deck, lined up on the left gangway, and marched in single file to the quarter-deck, where the officers stood to inspect us and choose whoever caught their eye without considering the rights of the prisoners. We continued to march in a solemn and sad procession until they selected about three hundred of the strongest among us, mostly Americans, and directed them to go below with a guard to gather whatever belongings they wanted to take. They were then forced into the waiting boats and left the prison ship, not to regain their freedom, but to face the harsh rule and oppressive slavery of a British man-of-war; to waste their lives in foreign service and toil for masters they despised. Yet, the realities of our situation as prisoners were so dreadful and our chances of relief so slim that we almost envied those who were leaving the ship to serve the enemy.”
“That the reader may not think I have given an exaggerated account of our sufferings on board the Jersey, I will here introduce some facts related in the histories of the Revolutionary War. I introduce them as an apology for the course that I and many of my fellow citizens adopted to obtain temporary relief from our sufferings.
"To make sure the reader doesn’t think I’ve exaggerated our hardships on the Jersey, I will share some facts from the histories of the Revolutionary War. I include these as a justification for the actions that I and many of my fellow citizens took to seek temporary relief from our suffering."
“The prisoners captured by Sir William Howe in 1776 amounted to several thousands. * * * The privates were confined in prisons, deserted churches, and other large open buildings, entirely unfit for the habitations of human beings, in severe winter weather, without any of the most ordinary comforts of life.
“The prisoners taken by Sir William Howe in 1776 numbered in the thousands. * * * The enlisted men were held in prisons, abandoned churches, and other large open spaces, completely unsuitable for human living, during harsh winter conditions, without any of the most basic comforts of life."
“To the indelible and everlasting disgrace of the British name, these unfortunate victims of a barbarity more befitting savages than gentlemen belonging to a nation boasting itself to be the most enlightened and civilized of the world,—many hundreds of them, perished from want of proper food and attention.
“To the lasting and shameful disgrace of the British name, these unfortunate victims of cruelty more fitting for savages than for gentlemen of a nation that prides itself on being the most enlightened and civilized in the world—many hundreds of them perished from a lack of proper food and care.”
“The cruelty of their inhuman jailors was not terminated by the death of these wretched men, as so little care was taken to remove the corpses that seven dead bodies have been seen at one time lying in one of the buildings in the midst of their living fellow-prisoners, who were perhaps envying them their release from misery. Their food * * * was generally that which was rejected by the British ships as unfit to be eaten by the sailors, and unwholesome in the highest degree, as well as disgusting in taste and appearance.
“The cruelty of their inhuman jailers didn’t end with the death of these miserable men, as barely any effort was made to remove the bodies. Seven dead bodies were seen lying together at one time in one of the buildings, surrounded by their living fellow prisoners, who might have been envying them for their relief from suffering. Their food was typically what the British ships rejected as unsuitable for the sailors, highly unwholesome, and gross in both taste and appearance.”
“In December, 1776, the American board of war, after procuring such evidence as convinced them of the truth of their statements, reported that: ‘There were 900 privates and 300 officers of the American army, prisoners in the city of New York, and 500 privates and 50 officers in Philadelphia. That since the beginning of October, all these officers and privates had been confined in prisons or in the provost. That, from the best evidence the subject could admit of, the general allowance of the prisoners did not exceed four ounces of meat a day, and that often so damaged as to be uneatable. That it had been a common practice of the British to keep their prisoners four or five days without a morsel of meat and thus tempt them to enlist to save their lives.’
“In December 1776, the American board of war, after gathering enough evidence to confirm their findings, reported that: ‘There were 900 enlisted soldiers and 300 officers of the American army, prisoners in New York City, and 500 enlisted soldiers and 50 officers in Philadelphia. Since the beginning of October, all these officers and soldiers had been held in prisons or in the provost. According to the best information available on the matter, the general allowance for the prisoners was no more than four ounces of meat a day, and often it was so spoiled that it was not edible. It had been a common practice for the British to keep their prisoners without a single bite of food for four or five days, thus forcing them to enlist to save their lives.’”
“Many were actually starved to death, in hope of making them enroll themselves in the British army. The American sailors when captured suffered even more than the soldiers, for they were confined on board prison ships in great numbers, and in a manner which showed that the British officers were willing to treat fellow beings, whose only crime was love of liberty, worse than the vilest animals; and indeed in every respect, with as much cruelty as is endured by the miserable inhabitants of the worst class of slave ships. * * * In the course of the war it has been asserted on good evidence, that 11,000 prisoners died on board the Jersey. * * * These unfortunate beings died in agony in the midst of their fellow sufferers, who were obliged to witness their tortures, without the power of relieving their dying countrymen, even by cooling their parched lips with a drop of cold water, or a breath of fresh air; and, when the last breath had left the emaciated body, they sometimes remained for hours in close contact with the corpse, without room to shrink from companions that Death had made so horrible, and when at last the dead were removed, they were sent in boats to the shore, and so imperfectly buried that long after the war was ended, their bones lay whitening in the sun on the beach of Long Island, a lasting memorial of British cruelty, so entirely unwarranted by all the laws of war or even common humanity.
“Many were actually starved to death, in hope of making them enlist in the British army. The American sailors, when captured, suffered even more than the soldiers, as they were confined on board prison ships in great numbers and in a way that showed the British officers were willing to treat fellow human beings, whose only crime was love of liberty, worse than the vilest animals; indeed, in every respect, with as much cruelty as the miserable inhabitants endure on the worst slave ships. * * * During the war, it was reported on good authority that 11,000 prisoners died on board the Jersey. * * * These unfortunate individuals died in agony amid their fellow sufferers, who had to witness their torment without the power to ease their dying comrades' suffering, even by cooling their parched lips with a drop of cold water or a breath of fresh air; and, when the last breath left the emaciated body, they sometimes remained for hours in close contact with the corpse, with no space to shrink from the companions that Death had made so horrible. When the dead were finally removed, they were sent in boats to the shore and buried so poorly that long after the war ended, their bones lay exposed in the sun on the beach of Long Island, a lasting reminder of British cruelty, entirely unwarranted by all the laws of war or even common humanity.”
“They could not even pretend that they were retaliating, for the Americans invariably treated their prisoners with kindness, and as though they were fellow men. All the time that these cruelties were performed those who were deprived of every comfort and necessary were constantly entreated to leave the American service, and induced to believe, while kept from all knowledge of public affairs, that the republican cause was hopeless; that all engaged in it would meet the punishment of traitors to the king, and that all their prospect of saving their lives, or escaping from an imprisonment worse than death to young and high-spirited men, as most of them were, would be in joining the British army, where they would be sure of good pay and quick promotion.
“They couldn't even pretend they were retaliating because the Americans always treated their prisoners with kindness, like they were fellow humans. While these cruelties were happening, those who were stripped of every comfort and necessity were constantly urged to leave the American service, and were led to believe—while being kept in the dark about public affairs—that the republican cause was hopeless; that everyone involved would face punishment as traitors to the king, and that their only chance of saving their lives, or escaping an imprisonment worse than death—especially for the young and spirited men most of them were—was by joining the British army, where they would be guaranteed good pay and quick promotions.”
“These were the means employed by our enemies to increase their own forces, and discourage the patriots, and it is not strange they were successful in many instances. High sentiments of honor could not well exist in the poor, half-famished prisoners, who were denied even water to quench their thirst, or the privilege of breathing fresh, pure air, and cramped, day after day, in a space too small to admit of exercising their weary limbs, with the fear of wasting their lives in a captivity, which could not serve their country, nor gain honor to themselves.
“These were the tactics used by our enemies to boost their own numbers and demoralize the patriots, and it's not surprising that they succeeded in many cases. Noble feelings of honor were hard to maintain among the poor, half-starved prisoners, who were denied even water to quench their thirst or the chance to breathe fresh, clean air, cramped day after day in a space too small to let them stretch their tired limbs, all while fearing they would waste their lives in captivity that served neither their country nor brought any honor to themselves.”
“But worse than all was the mortifying consideration that, after they had suffered for the love of their country, more than sailors in active service, they might die in these horrible places, and be laid with their countrymen on the shores of Long Island, or some equally exposed spot, without the rites of burial, and their names never be heard of by those who, in future ages, would look back to the roll of patriots, who died in defence of liberty, with admiration and respect, while, on the contrary, by dissembling for a time, they might be able to regain a place in the service so dear to them, and in which they were ready to endure any hardship or encounter any danger.
“But worse than everything was the humiliating thought that, after suffering for the love of their country more than active sailors, they might die in these terrible places and be buried with their fellow countrymen on the shores of Long Island or some equally exposed spot, without any burial rites, and their names would never be remembered by those in future generations who would look back at the list of patriots who died defending liberty with admiration and respect. In contrast, by pretending for a time, they might be able to reclaim a spot in the service they cherished so much, where they were willing to endure any hardship or face any danger.”
“Of all the prisons, on land or water, for the confinement of the Americans, during the Revolutionary War, the Old Jersey was acknowledged to be the worst; such an accumulation of horrors was not to be found in any other one, or perhaps in all collectively.
“Of all the prisons, whether on land or at sea, used to confine Americans during the Revolutionary War, the Old Jersey was considered the absolute worst; no other prison, or even all of them together, could match the sheer amount of horrors found there.”
“The very name of it struck terror into the sailor’s heart, and caused him to fight more desperately, to avoid being made a captive. Suffering as we did, day after day, with no prospect of relief, our numbers continually augmenting, * * * can it be thought strange that the younger part of the prisoners, to whom confinement seemed worse than death, should be tempted to enlist into the British service; especially when, by so doing, it was probable that some opportunity would be offered to desert? We were satisfied that death would soon put an end to our sufferings if we remained prisoners much longer, yet when we discussed the expediency of seeking a change in our condition, which we were satisfied could not be worse under any circumstances, and it was proposed that we should enter the service of King George, our minds revolted at the idea, and we abandoned the intention.
“The very name of it struck terror into the sailor’s heart and made him fight more desperately to avoid being captured. Suffering daily with no hope of relief, and with our numbers continually growing, can it be surprising that the younger prisoners, for whom confinement felt worse than death, were tempted to join the British service? Especially considering that by doing so, there might be a chance to desert? We were convinced that death would soon end our suffering if we remained prisoners any longer. Yet, when we talked about the possibility of changing our situation—something we believed couldn’t be worse in any circumstance—and the idea of joining King George's service was suggested, we found the thought revolting and decided against it.
“In the midst of our distresses, perplexities, and troubles of this period, we were not a little puzzled to know how to dispose of the vermin that would accumulate upon our persons, notwithstanding all our attempts at cleanliness. To catch them was a very easy task, but to undertake to deprive each individual captive of life, as rapidly as they could have been taken, would have been a more herculean task for each individual daily, than the destruction of 3000 Philistines by Sampson of old. To throw them overboard would have been but a small relief, as they would probably add to the impurities of the boiler, by being deposited in it the first time it was filled up for cooking our unsavory mess. What then was to be done with them? A general consultation was held, and it was determined to deprive them of their liberty. This being agreed upon, the prisoners immediately went to work, for their comfort and amusement, to make a liberal contribution of those migratory creatures, who were compelled to colonize for a time within the boundaries of a large snuff box appropriated for the purpose. There they lay, snugly ensconced, of all colors, ages, and sizes, to the amount of some hundreds, waiting for orders.
“In the middle of our struggles, confusion, and challenges at this time, we were quite puzzled about how to deal with the pests that kept accumulating on us, despite all our efforts to stay clean. Catching them was easy, but trying to kill each one as quickly as we caught them would have been a daunting task for each person daily, more challenging than Samson’s defeat of 3,000 Philistines in the past. Throwing them overboard would have provided only slight relief since they would likely just dirty the boiler the next time it was filled for cooking our unappetizing food. So what were we supposed to do with them? A general meeting was held, and it was decided to take away their freedom. Once this was agreed upon, the 'prisoners' immediately started working, for their own comfort and amusement, to generously contribute those wandering creatures that had been forced to settle for a while inside a big snuff box designated for this purpose. There they lay, comfortably nestled, in all colors, ages, and sizes, numbering in the hundreds, waiting for instructions.”
“British recruiting officers frequently came on board, and held out to the prisoners tempting offers to enlist in his Majesty’s service; not to fight against their own country, but to perform garrison duty in the island of Jamaica.
“British recruiting officers often came on board and made tempting offers to the prisoners to join His Majesty’s service; not to fight against their own country, but to do garrison duty on the island of Jamaica.”
“One day an Irish officer came on board for this purpose, and not meeting with much success among the prisoners who happened to be on deck, he descended below to repeat his offers. He was a remarkably tall man, and was obliged to stoop as he passed along between decks. The prisoners were disposed for a frolic, and kept the officer in their company for some time, flattering him with expectations, till he discovered their insincerity, and left them in no very pleasant humor. As he passed along, bending his body and bringing his broad shoulders to nearly a horizontal position, the idea occurred to our minds to furnish him with some recruits from the colony in the snuff box. A favorable opportunity presented, the cover of the box was removed, and the whole contents discharged upon the red-coated back of the officer. Three cheers from the prisoners followed the migration, and the officer ascended to the deck, unconscious of the number and variety of the recruits he had obtained without the formality of an enlistment. The captain of the ship, suspecting that some joke had been practised, or some mischief perpetrated, from the noise below, met the officer at the head of the gangway, and seeing the vermin crawling up his shoulders, and aiming at his head, with the instinct peculiar to them, exclaimed, ‘Hoot mon! what’s the maitter wi’ your back!’ * * * By this time many of them in their wanderings, had travelled from the rear to the front, and showed themselves, to the astonishment of the officer. He flung off his coat, in a paroxysm of rage, which was not allayed by three cheers from the prisoners on deck. Confinement below, with a short allowance, was our punishment for this gratification.
“One day, an Irish officer came on board for this purpose, and after not having much luck with the prisoners who were on deck, he went below to try again. He was incredibly tall and had to bend down as he moved between the decks. The prisoners were in the mood for some fun and kept the officer with them for a while, encouraging him with false hopes, until he realized they weren't being sincere and left in a bad mood. As he walked by, bending his body and lowering his broad shoulders to almost a horizontal position, we thought it would be funny to give him some 'recruits' from the snuff box. When the chance came, we popped open the lid of the box and poured all the contents onto the officer's red-coated back. The prisoners cheered as the snuff moved, and the officer went back up to the deck, unaware of the number and variety of 'recruits' he had picked up without any enlistment process. The ship's captain, suspecting some kind of joke or mischief from the noise below, met the officer at the top of the gangway. Seeing the bugs crawling up his shoulders and trying to reach his head, he exclaimed, ‘Hoot mon! What’s the matter with your back!’ By that point, many of the bugs had moved from the back to the front, to the officer's surprise. In a fit of anger, he threw off his coat, which wasn’t calmed by the three cheers from the prisoners on deck. Our punishment for this amusement was confinement below with limited rations.”
“From some information we had obtained we were in daily expectation of a visit from the British recruiting officers, and from the summary method of their procedure, no one felt safe from the danger of being forced into their service. Many of the prisoners thought it would be better to enlist voluntarily, as it was probable that afterwards they would be permitted to remain on Long Island, preparatory to their departure to the West Indies, and during that time some opportunity would be offered for their escape to the Jersey shore. * * * Soon after we had formed this desperate resolve a recruiting officer came on board to enlist men for the 88th Regiment to be stationed at Kingston, in the island of Jamaica. * * * The recruiting officer presented his papers for our signature. We hesitated, we stared at each other, and felt we were about to do a deed of which we were ashamed, and which we might regret. Again we heard the tempting offers, and again the assurance that we should not be called upon to fight against our government or country, and with the hope that we should find an opportunity to desert, of which it was our firm intention to avail ourselves when offered,—with such hopes, expectations, and motives, we signed the papers, and became soldiers in his Majesty’s service,
“Based on some information we had gathered, we were expecting a visit from the British recruiting officers every day, and due to their aggressive methods, no one felt secure from the risk of being forced into their service. Many of the prisoners thought it would be better to join voluntarily, as it seemed likely we would be allowed to stay on Long Island, preparing to leave for the West Indies, and during that time, there might be a chance for us to escape to the Jersey shore. * * * Shortly after we made this desperate decision, a recruiting officer came aboard to enlist men for the 88th Regiment, which would be stationed in Kingston, Jamaica. * * * The recruiting officer presented his papers for us to sign. We hesitated, looked at each other, and felt we were about to do something we would regret and be ashamed of. Again, we heard the tempting offers and the assurance that we wouldn’t have to fight against our government or country, and with hope that we would find a chance to desert, which we fully intended to take when it came—with those hopes, expectations, and motivations, we signed the papers and became soldiers in His Majesty’s service.”
“How often did we afterwards lament that we had ever lived to see this hour? How often did we regret that we were not in our wretched prison ship again, or buried in the sand at the Wallabout!”
“How often did we afterwards regret that we had ever lived to see this moment? How often did we wish we were back in our miserable prison ship or buried in the sand at the Wallabout!”
There were twelve of the prisoners who left the Jersey with Ebenezer Fox. They were at first taken to Long Island and lodged in barns, but so vigilantly were they guarded that they found it impossible to escape. They were all sent to Kingston, and Fox was allowed to resume his occupation as a barber, much patronized by the officers stationed at that post. He was soon allowed the freedom of the city, and furnished with a pass to go about it as much as he wished. At last, in company with four other Americans, he escaped, and after many adventures the party succeeded in reaching Cuba, by means of a small sailing boat which they pressed into service for that purpose. From Cuba they took passage in a small vessel for St. Domingo, and dropped anchor at Cape Francois, afterwards called Cape Henri. There they went on board the American frigate, Flora, of 32 guns, commanded by Captain Henry Johnson, of Boston.
There were twelve prisoners who left the Jersey with Ebenezer Fox. They were initially taken to Long Island and housed in barns, but they were watched so closely that they found it impossible to escape. They were all sent to Kingston, where Fox was allowed to go back to his job as a barber, which was very popular with the officers stationed there. He was soon given the freedom to move around the city and provided with a pass to explore it as much as he wanted. Eventually, along with four other Americans, he escaped, and after many adventures, they managed to reach Cuba using a small sailing boat that they took for that purpose. From Cuba, they boarded a small vessel to St. Domingo and anchored at Cape Francois, later known as Cape Henri. There, they boarded the American frigate, Flora, a 32-gun ship commanded by Captain Henry Johnson from Boston.
The vessel soon sailed for France and took several prizes. It finally went up the Garonne to Bordeaux, where it remained nine months. In the harbor of Bordeaux were about six hundred vessels bearing the flags of various nations. Here they remained until peace was proclaimed, when Fox procured service on board an American brig lying at Nantes, and set sail for home in April, 1783.
The ship soon set off for France and captured several prizes. It eventually made its way up the Garonne River to Bordeaux, where it stayed for nine months. In the Bordeaux harbor, there were around six hundred ships flying the flags of different nations. They stayed there until peace was declared, at which point Fox secured a position on an American brig docked in Nantes and sailed home in April 1783.
At length he again reached his mother’s house at Roxbury, after an absence of about three years. His mother, at first, did not recognize him. She entertained him as a stranger, until he made himself known, and then her joy was great, for she had long mourned him as lost.
At last, he arrived back at his mother’s house in Roxbury after being away for about three years. At first, his mother didn’t recognize him. She treated him like a stranger until he revealed who he was, and then her joy was immense, as she had mourned him as lost for a long time.
CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE CASE OF CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS
Christopher Hawkins was born in Providence, Rhode Island, in 1764. When he was in his thirteenth year he sailed on board an American privateer as a cabin boy. The privateer was a schooner, called the Eagle, commanded by Captain Potter. Taken prisoner by the British, Hawkins was sent on board the Asia, an old transport ship, but was soon taken off this vessel, then used for the confinement of American prisoners, and sent on board a frigate, the Maidstone, to serve as a waiter to the British officers on board. He remained on board the Maidstone a year. At the end of that time he was allowed a good deal of liberty. He and another boy were sent on shore to New York with a message, managed to elude the sentinels, and escaped first to Long Island, and afterwards returned home to Providence.
Christopher Hawkins was born in Providence, Rhode Island, in 1764. When he was thirteen, he sailed on an American privateer as a cabin boy. The privateer was a schooner called the Eagle, commanded by Captain Potter. After being captured by the British, Hawkins was put on the Asia, an old transport ship, but was soon transferred from that ship, which was used to hold American prisoners, and then sent to a frigate, the Maidstone, to serve as a waiter for the British officers on board. He stayed on the Maidstone for a year. By the end of that time, he was given quite a bit of freedom. He and another boy were sent ashore to New York with a message, managed to slip past the guards, and escaped first to Long Island, and then made their way back home to Providence.
About 1781 he again went on board a privateer under Captain Whipple, was again captured, and this time he was sent to the Jersey. He describes the condition of the prisoners on their way in a transport to this fearful prison ship. They were so crowded together that they could scarcely move, yet they all joined in singing a patriotic song every stanza of which ended with the words:
About 1781, he went back on a privateer with Captain Whipple, got captured again, and this time was sent to the Jersey. He describes the conditions of the prisoners during their transport to this dreadful prison ship. They were packed so tightly that they could hardly move, yet they all sang a patriotic song, with each stanza ending with the words:
“For America and all her sons forever will shine!”
“For America and all her children, she will always shine!”
They were on board this transport three or four days unable to sit or lie down for want of room. When at last they reached the Jersey they found 800 prisoners on board. Many of these poor wretches would become sick in the night and die before day. Hawkins was obliged to lie down to rest only twenty feet from the gangway, and in the path of the prisoners who would run over him to get on the upper deck. He describes the condition of these men as appalling.
They were on this transport for three or four days, unable to sit or lie down because there wasn't enough room. When they finally arrived at the Jersey, they found 800 prisoners on board. Many of these unfortunate souls would get sick at night and die before morning. Hawkins had to lie down to rest just twenty feet from the gangway, right in the path of the prisoners who would run over him to reach the upper deck. He describes the state of these men as horrifying.
“Near us,” he writes, “was a guard ship and hospital ship, and along the shore a line of sentinels at regular intervals.”
“Nearby,” he writes, “was a guard ship and a hospital ship, and along the shore, there was a line of sentinels at regular intervals.”
Yet he determined to escape. Many did so; and many were murdered in the attempt. A mess of six had just met a dreadful fate. One of them became terrified and exclaimed as soon as he touched the water, “O Lord, I shall be drowned!” The guard turned out, and murdered five of the poor wretches. The sixth managed to hide, and held on by the flukes of the anchor with nothing but his nose above water. Early in the morning he climbed up the anchor over the bow of the ship to the forecastle, and fled below. A boy named Waterman and Hawkins determined to drop through a port-hole, and endeavor to reach Long Island by swimming. He thus describes the adventure:
Yet he was resolved to escape. Many others tried, and many were killed in the process. A group of six had just met a terrible end. One of them became so frightened that when he touched the water, he cried out, “Oh God, I’m going to drown!” The guard came out and killed five of the poor souls. The sixth managed to hide, clinging to the flukes of the anchor with just his nose above water. Early the next morning, he climbed up the anchor and over the bow of the ship to the forecastle and escaped below. A boy named Waterman and Hawkins decided to drop through a port-hole and try to swim to Long Island. He describes the adventure as follows:
“The thunder-storm was opportune to our design, for having previously obtained from the cook’s room an old axe and crow-bar from the upper deck for the purpose, we concealed them till an opportunity should offer for their use. We took advantage of the peals of thunder in a storm that came over us in the afternoon to break one of the gun ports on the lower deck, which was strongly barred with iron and bolts. * * * When a peal of thunder roared we worked with all our might with the axe and crow-bar against the bars and bolts. When the peals subsided we ceased, without our blows being heard by the British, until another peal commenced. We then went to work again, and so on, until our work was completed to our liking. The bars and bolts, after we had knocked them loose, were replaced so as not to draw the attention of our British gentry if they should happen to visit the lower deck before our departure. We also hung some old apparel over and around the shattered gunport to conceal any marks.
“The thunderstorm was perfect for our plan. We had previously taken an old axe and crowbar from the cook’s room on the upper deck for this purpose and hid them until we got the chance to use them. We used the loud thunder from a storm that rolled in during the afternoon to break open one of the gun ports on the lower deck, which was securely barred with iron and bolts. * * * When a thunderclap hit, we worked as hard as we could with the axe and crowbar against the bars and bolts. When the thunder quieted down, we stopped, making sure the British didn’t hear us, and started again when another clap came. We continued this way until we were satisfied with our progress. After we knocked the bars and bolts loose, we put them back in place to avoid drawing the attention of our British counterparts if they happened to check the lower deck before we left. We also draped some old clothes over and around the broken gun port to hide any signs of our work.”
“Being thus and otherwise prepared for our escape, the ship was visited by our Captain Whipple the next day after we had broken the gun-port. To him we communicated our intention and contemplated means of escape. He strongly remonstrated against the design. We told him we should start the ensuing evening. Captain Whipple answered:
“Being ready for our escape, Captain Whipple visited the ship the day after we had broken the gun-port. We shared our plan and discussed ways to get away. He strongly opposed the idea. We told him we would leave the following evening. Captain Whipple responded:
“‘How do you think of escaping?’
“‘How do you plan to escape?’”
“I answered, ‘By swimming to that point,’ at the same time pointing to a place then in our view on Long Island, in a northeasterly direction from the prison ship. We must do this to avoid the sentinels who were stationed in the neighborhood of the ship.
“I answered, ‘By swimming to that point,’ while pointing to a spot we could see on Long Island, to the northeast of the prison ship. We need to do this to avoid the guards who were stationed near the ship.
“‘What!’ said Captain Whipple, ‘Do you think of swimming to that point?’
“‘What!’ Captain Whipple said. ‘You think you can swim to that point?’”
“‘Yes, we must, to avoid the sentinels,’ I answered.
“‘Yes, we have to, to stay away from the guards,’ I replied.
“‘Well,’ said Captain Whipple, ‘Give it up, It is only throwing your lives away, for there is not a man on earth who can swim from this ship to that point as cold as the water is now. Why, how far do you think it is?’
“‘Well,’ said Captain Whipple, ‘Just give it up. It’s just wasting your lives because there’s no one on earth who can swim from this ship to that spot with the water being this cold. How far do you think it is?’”
“‘Why,’ I answered, ‘Waterman and myself have estimated the distance at a mile and a half.’
“‘Why,’ I replied, ‘Waterman and I have estimated the distance at a mile and a half.’”
“‘Yes,’ said he, ‘It’s all of two and a half miles. You cannot measure across as well as I can. So you had better give it up, for I have encouragement of getting home next week, and if I do, I will make it my whole business to get you all exchanged immediately.’
“‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘It’s definitely two and a half miles. You can’t measure as accurately as I can. So you should probably let it go, because I’m hoping to get home next week, and if I do, I’ll make it my priority to get you all exchanged right away.’”
“Altho’ Waterman was several years my senior in age, the conversation was carried on between Captain Whipple and myself for the reason that Captain W. was more acquainted with me than with Waterman, but Waterman was present.” (Captain Whipple was captured five times during the Revolution, each time on his own vessel.)
“Although Waterman was several years older than me, the conversation was between Captain Whipple and me because Captain W. knew me better than he knew Waterman, even though Waterman was there.” (Captain Whipple was captured five times during the Revolution, each time on his own ship.)
“His advice had great weight on our minds, but did not shake our purpose. We had not been on board the Old Jersey more than one hour before we began to plot our escape. We had been only three days on board when we left it forever. We had been on board long enough to discover the awful scenes which took place daily in this ‘floating hell.’
“His advice really made us think, but it didn’t change our resolve. We hadn’t been on the Old Jersey for more than an hour before we started planning our escape. We had only been on board for three days when we left it for good. We had been there long enough to witness the horrific scenes that happened every day in this ‘floating hell.’”
“Our preparations for leaving were completed by procuring a piece of rope from an old cable that was stretched under the fo’castle of the ship, * * * and wound around the cable to preserve it. We had each of us packed our wearing apparel in a knapsack for each, made on board the Old Jersey. I gave some of my apparel to the two Smiths. I stowed in my knapsack a thick woolen sailor jacket, well lined, a pair of thick pantaloons, one vest, a pair of heavy silver shoe buckles, two silk handkerchiefs, four silver dollars, not forgetting a junk bottle of rum, which we had purchased on board at a dear rate. Waterman had stowed his apparel and other articles in his knapsack. Mine was very heavy. It was fastened to my back with two very strong garters, passing over my shoulders, and under each arm, and fastened with a string to my breast, bringing my right and left garter in contact near the centre.
“Our preparations to leave were finished by getting a piece of rope from an old cable stretched under the ship’s forecastle, and wrapping it around the cable to keep it from fraying. Each of us had packed our clothes in a knapsack made on board the Old Jersey. I gave some of my clothes to the two Smiths. I packed a thick wool sailor jacket, well-lined, a pair of thick pants, one vest, a pair of heavy silver shoe buckles, two silk handkerchiefs, four silver dollars, and a bottle of rum that we had bought onboard at a high price. Waterman had packed his clothes and other items in his knapsack. Mine was very heavy. It was secured to my back with two strong garters, going over my shoulders and under each arm, and tied with a string to my chest, bringing my right and left garter together near the center.”
“Thus equipt we were ready to commit ourselves to the watery element, and to our graves, as many of our hardy fellow prisoners predicted. The evening was as good an one as we could desire at that season of the year, the weather was mild and hazy, and the night extremely dark.
“Fully equipped, we were ready to plunge into the water and meet our fate, just as many of our brave fellow prisoners had predicted. The evening was as nice as we could hope for at that time of year; the weather was mild and foggy, and the night was very dark.”
“It was arranged between Waterman and myself that after leaving the ship we should be governed in our course by the lights on board the ships and the responses of the sentinels on shore, and after arriving on shore to repair near a dwelling house which we could see from the Old Jersey in the day time, and spend the balance of the night in a barn, but a few rods from the dwelling.
“It was agreed between Waterman and me that after leaving the ship we would follow the signals from the ships and the responses from the sentries on shore. Once we got to shore, we planned to set up near a house that we could see from the Old Jersey during the day and spend the rest of the night in a barn, just a short distance from the house.”
“Waterman was the first to leave the ship through the broken-open gun-port, and suspended to the rope by his hands, and at the end behind him (it was held) by several of our fellow prisoners whom we were leaving behind us, and with whom we affectionately parted with reciprocal good wishes. He succeeded in gaining the water and in leaving the ship without discovery from the British. It had been agreed, if detection was about to take place, that he should be received again into the ship. I had agreed to follow him in one minute in the same manner. I left and followed in half that time, and succeeded in leaving the ship without giving the least alarm to those who had held us in captivity.
“Waterman was the first to leave the ship through the broken gunport, hanging onto the rope with his hands, while behind him several of our fellow prisoners, whom we were leaving behind, held on. We shared affectionate good wishes as we parted ways. He managed to reach the water and leave the ship without being noticed by the British. We had agreed that if he was about to be discovered, he could be brought back onto the ship. I had said I would follow him in one minute, but I actually left just half a minute later and was able to exit the ship without alerting those who had been holding us captive.”
“I kept along close to the side of the ship until I gained the stern, and then left the ship. This was all done very slowly, sinking my body as deep in the water as possible, without stopping my course, until I was at such a distance from her that my motions in the water would not create attention from those on board. After gaining a suitable distance from the ship, I hailed Waterman three times. He did not answer me. * * * I have never seen him since he left the Old Jersey to this day. His fate and success I have since learned from James Waterman, one of his brothers.
“I stayed close to the side of the ship until I reached the back, and then I left the ship. I did this very slowly, sinking my body as deep in the water as possible without stopping my movement, until I was far enough away that my movements wouldn’t attract attention from those on board. Once I was at a safe distance from the ship, I called out to Waterman three times. He didn’t respond. * * * I have never seen him since he left the Old Jersey. His fate and what happened to him I eventually learned from his brother, James Waterman."
“In the meantime I kept on my course without thinking that any accident would befall him, as I knew him to be an excellent swimmer, and no fainthearted or timid fellow.
“In the meantime, I continued on my way, not thinking that anything would happen to him since I knew he was a great swimmer and not a coward or timid guy.”
“I could take my course very well from the light reflected from the stern lanthorns of the prison, guards, and hospital ships, and also from the responses of the sentinels on shore; in the words, ‘All’s well.’ These responses were repeated every half hour on board the guard ship, and by the sentinels. * * * These repetitions served me to keep the time I was employed in reaching the shore;—no object occupied my mind during this time so much as my friend Waterman, if I may except my own success in getting to land in safety.
“I could easily navigate by the light coming from the stern lanterns of the prison, guards, and hospital ships, as well as from the responses of the sentinels on shore, who would say, ‘All’s well.’ These responses were repeated every half hour on the guard ship and by the sentinels. * * * These repetitions helped me keep track of the time I spent getting to shore;—the only thing on my mind during this time was my friend Waterman, aside from my own goal of safely reaching land.”
“I flattered myself I should find him on shore or at the barn we had agreed to occupy after we might gain it. After I had been swimming nearly or quite two hours my knapsack had broken loose from my back, from the wearing off of the garters under my arms, in consequence of the friction in swimming. * * * This occurrence did not please me much. I endeavored to retain my knapsack by putting it under one arm, * * * but soon found that this impeded my progress, and led me from my true course. * * * By this time I had become much chilled, and benumbed from cold, but could swim tolerably well. * * * I hesitated whether or not to retain my knapsack longer in my possession, or part from it forever, I soon determined on the latter, and sent it adrift. In this balancing state of mind and subsequent decision I was cool and self collected as perhaps at any time in my life. * * * I now soon found I was close in with the shore. * * * I swam within twelve feet of the shore before I could touch bottom, and in so doing I found I could not stand, I was so cold * * * but I moved around in shoal water until I found I could stand, then stept on shore. * * * I had not sent my clothes adrift more than twenty-five minutes or so before striking the shore. I was completely naked except for a small hat on my head which I had brought from the Old Jersey. What a situation was this, without covering to hide my naked body, in an enemy’s country, without food or means to obtain any, and among Tories more unrelenting than the devil,—more perils to encounter and nothing to aid me but the interposition of heaven! Yet I had gained an important portion of my enterprise: I had got on land, after swimming in the water two hours and a half, and a distance of perhaps two miles and a half.”
“I thought I might find him on the shore or at the barn we planned to use once we got it. After swimming for almost two hours, my knapsack had broken free from my back because the straps under my arms wore out from the friction of swimming. * * * This didn’t sit well with me. I tried to hold my knapsack under one arm, * * * but soon realized that it was slowing me down and steering me off course. * * * By this time, I was pretty cold and numb, but I could still swim fairly well. * * * I debated whether to keep my knapsack or let it go for good, and soon decided to release it. In that moment of indecision and my final choice, I was surprisingly calm and collected, maybe more than at any other time in my life. * * * Before long, I realized I was close to the shore. * * * I swam within twelve feet of the shoreline before I could touch the bottom, and when I did, I found I couldn’t stand because of the cold. * * * I paddled around in shallow water until I discovered I could stand, then I stepped onto the shore. * * * I had barely let go of my clothes for about twenty-five minutes before reaching land. I was completely naked except for a small hat on my head that I had brought from the Old Jersey. What a situation this was, with no covering to hide my naked body, in enemy territory, without food or means to get any, surrounded by Tories who were more ruthless than the devil—facing more dangers with nothing to help me except for divine intervention! Yet, I had accomplished a significant part of my goal: I had made it to land after swimming in the water for two and a half hours and a distance of maybe two and a half miles.”
Hawkins at last found the barn and slept in it the rest of the night, but not before falling over a rock in the darkness, and bruising his naked body severely. Next morning a black girl came into the barn, apparently hunting for eggs, but he did not dare reveal himself to her. He remained there all day, and endeavored to milk the cows, but they were afraid of a naked stranger. He left the place in the night and travelled east. In a field he found some overripe water melons, but they were neither wholesome nor palatable. After wandering a long time in the rain he came to another barn, and in it he slept soundly until late the next day. Nearly famished he again wandered on and found in an orchard a few half rotten pears. Near by was a potato patch which he entered hoping to get some of them. Here a young woman, who had been stooping down digging potatoes, started up. “I was, of course,” he continues, “naked, my head excepted. She was, or appeared to be, excessively frightened, and ran towards a house, screeching and screaming at every step.” Hawkins ran in the other direction, and got safely away. At last the poor boy found another barn, and lay, that night, upon a heap of flax. After sunrise next morning he concluded to go on his way. “I could see the farmers at their labor in the fields. I then concluded to still keep on my course, and go to some of these people then in sight. I was, by this time, almost worn out with hunger. I slowly approached two tall young men who were gathering garden sauce. They soon discovered me and appeared astonished at my appearance, and began to draw away from me, but I spoke to them in the following words:—‘Don’t be afraid of me: I am a human being!’ They then made a halt and inquired of me, ‘Are you scared?’ ‘No,’ said I. They then advanced slowly towards me, and inquired, ‘How came you here naked?’
Hawkins finally found the barn and slept there for the rest of the night, but not before tripping over a rock in the darkness and badly bruising his bare body. The next morning, a black girl entered the barn, seemingly looking for eggs, but he didn’t dare show himself to her. He stayed there all day, trying to milk the cows, but they were scared of a naked stranger. That night, he left and traveled east. In a field, he found some overripe watermelons, but they weren’t edible or pleasant. After wandering for a long time in the rain, he found another barn and slept soundly until late the next day. Nearly starving, he wandered on and found a few half-rotten pears in an orchard. Nearby, there was a potato patch he entered, hoping to get some. A young woman, who had been bent down digging potatoes, suddenly stood up. “I was, of course,” he continued, “naked except for my head. She seemed extremely frightened and ran toward a house, screaming with every step.” Hawkins ran in the opposite direction and managed to escape. Eventually, the poor boy found another barn and lay that night on a pile of flax. After sunrise the next morning, he decided to continue on his way. “I could see the farmers working in the fields. I then decided to keep going and approach some of those people I could see. By that time, I was almost exhausted from hunger. I slowly approached two tall young men who were gathering greens. They soon noticed me and looked shocked at my appearance, then started to back away, but I spoke to them, saying: ‘Don’t be afraid of me: I’m a human being!’ They then stopped and asked me, ‘Are you scared?’ ‘No,’ I replied. They then moved slowly toward me and asked, ‘How did you end up here naked?’”
“I seated myself on the ground and told them the truth.”
“I sat down on the ground and told them the truth.”
One of the young men told him to conceal himself from the sight of the neighbors, and he would go and consult with his mother what had best be done. He soon returned, bringing two large pieces of bread and butter and a decent pair of pantaloons. He then told him to go to the side of the barn and wait there for his mother, but not to allow himself to be seen. The boys’ mother came out to speak to him with a shirt on her arm. As he incautiously moved around the side of the barn to meet her, she exclaimed, “For God’s sake don’t let that black woman see you!” A slave was washing clothes near the back door of the farm house. The poor woman explained to Hawkins that this negress would betray him, “For she is as big a devil as any of the king’s folks, and she will bring me out, and then we should all be put in the provost and die there, for my husband was put there more than two years ago, and rotted and died there not more than two weeks since.”
One of the young men told him to hide from the neighbors, and he would go talk to his mom about what to do next. He quickly came back, bringing two big pieces of bread and butter and a nice pair of pants. He then told him to go to the side of the barn and wait for his mom but not let himself be seen. The boys’ mom came out to talk to him with a shirt on her arm. As he carelessly moved around the corner of the barn to meet her, she shouted, “For God’s sake, don’t let that black woman see you!” A slave was washing clothes near the back door of the farmhouse. The poor woman explained to Hawkins that this woman would betray him, “For she is as big a devil as any of the king’s folks, and she will turn me in, and then we would all end up in jail and die there, since my husband was put there more than two years ago, and he rotted and died there just two weeks ago.”
The poor woman wept as she told her story, and the escaped prisoner wept with her. This woman and her two sons were Dutch, and their house was only nine miles from Brooklyn ferry. She now directed the boy to a house at Oyster Bay where she said there was a man who would assist him to escape.
The poor woman cried as she shared her story, and the escaped prisoner cried along with her. This woman and her two sons were Dutch, and their home was just nine miles from the Brooklyn ferry. She then instructed the boy to go to a house in Oyster Bay, where she said there was a man who could help him escape.
After running many risks he found the house at last, but the woman who answered his knock told him that her husband was away and when he explained who he was she became very angry, and said that it was her duty to give him up. So he ran away from her, and at last fell into the hands of a party of British, who recaptured him, and declared that they would send him immediately back to the prison ship. They were quartered in a house near Oyster Bay, and here they locked him in a room, and he was told to lie down on some straw to sleep, as it was now night. In the night the fleas troubled him so much that he was very restless. A sentinel had been placed to guard him, and when this wretch heard him moving in the dark he exclaimed, “Lie still, G—d—-you,” and pricked him several times with his bayonet, so that the poor boy felt the fresh blood running down his body. He begged the sentinel to spare his life, declaring that it was hard he should be killed merely because the fleas had made him restless. He now did not dare to move, and was obliged to endure the attacks the fleas and the stiffness of his wounds in perfect silence until the sentinel was relieved. The next sentinel was kind and humane and seemed to compassionate his sufferings. He said that some men were natural brutes, and seemed to take an interest in the boy, but could do little for him. At daylight he was sent to the quarters of a Tory colonel a mile from the guard room. The colonel was a tall man of fine appearance, who examined him, and then said he must be sent back to the Jersey. The poor lad was now left in an unlocked room on the ground floor of the colonel’s house. He was given his breakfast, and a mulatto man was set to guard him. Now there was a pantry opening into this room, and a negro girl, who appeared very friendly with the mulatto, called him to eat his breakfast in this pantry. The mulatto, while eating, would look out every few minutes. Just after one of these inspections the boy got up softly, with his shoes in his hands, stepped across the room, out at the back door, and concealed himself in a patch of standing hemp. From thence he made his way into an orchard, and out into a wood lot. Here he hid himself and remained quiet for several hours, and although he heard several persons talking near him, he was not pursued. At last he stole out, walked about six miles, and at night fall entered a barn and slept there. He was in rather better case than before his recapture, for a doctor belonging to the British service had taken pity on him the night before, and had furnished him with warm clothes, shoes, and a little money.
After taking a lot of risks, he finally found the house, but the woman who answered the door told him her husband was away. When he explained who he was, she got very angry and said it was her duty to turn him in. So he ran away from her and eventually fell into the hands of a group of British soldiers who recaptured him, declaring they would send him straight back to the prison ship. They were staying in a house near Oyster Bay, where they locked him in a room and told him to lie down on some straw to sleep, as it was now nighttime. During the night, fleas bothered him so much that he couldn't sleep. A guard had been assigned to watch him, and when this guard heard him moving in the dark, he yelled, “Lie still, damn you,” and jabbed him several times with his bayonet, causing the poor boy to feel fresh blood running down his body. He begged the guard to spare his life, saying it was unfair for him to be punished just because the fleas were making him restless. He didn’t dare to move anymore and had to endure the flea bites and the pain of his wounds in complete silence until the guard was replaced. The next guard was kind and seemed to sympathize with his suffering. He mentioned that some men were just natural brutes and took an interest in the boy, but could do little to help him. When daylight came, he was taken to the quarters of a Tory colonel a mile from the guard room. The colonel was a tall, handsome man who examined him and then said he must be sent back to the Jersey. The poor lad was then left in an unlocked room on the ground floor of the colonel’s house. He was given breakfast, and a mulatto man was assigned to guard him. There was a pantry that opened into this room, and a friendly black girl, who seemed to get along well with the mulatto, called him to eat his breakfast in the pantry. The mulatto would look out every few minutes while eating. Just after one of these checks, the boy quietly got up, holding his shoes, crossed the room, slipped out the back door, and hid himself in a patch of tall hemp. From there, he made his way into an orchard and then out into a wooded area. He hid and stayed silent for several hours, and even though he heard several people talking nearby, he was not pursued. Eventually, he crept out, walked about six miles, and at dusk entered a barn to sleep. He was in better shape than before his recapture because a doctor from the British service had taken pity on him the night before and had provided him with warm clothes, shoes, and a little money.
Next morning a woman who lived in a small house near the road gave him some bread and milk. The time of the year was autumn, it was a day or two before Cornwallis’s surrender at Yorktown. He now very fortunately met an acquaintance named Captain Daniel Havens. He was an uncle of a boy named John Sawyer, with whom young Hawkins had run away from New York some years before. Through the agency of this old friend Hawkins got on board a smuggler in the night and finally reached home in safety.
The next morning, a woman who lived in a small house by the road gave him some bread and milk. It was autumn, just a day or two before Cornwallis’s surrender at Yorktown. Luckily, he ran into an acquaintance named Captain Daniel Havens. He was the uncle of a boy named John Sawyer, with whom young Hawkins had run away from New York a few years earlier. Thanks to this old friend, Hawkins managed to get on a smuggler during the night and finally made it home safely.
Christopher Hawkins’s account of the Old Jersey is not so reliable as that of some others who were among her inmates. He was only on board that vessel three days, but in that time he saw enough to decide him to risk death in the attempt to escape rather than remain any longer on board of her. He declares that: “The cruel and unjustifiable treatment of the prisoners by the British soon produced the most demoralizing effects upon them. Boxing was tolerated without stint.... After I left the ship an American vessel came into the port of New York as a cartel for the exchange of prisoners.... A ship’s mate was so fortunate as to be one of the exchanged. He had a large chest on board, and, as privately as he could, he put the cabin boy into the chest, locked him in, and carried him on board the cartel. A prisoner named Spicer had seen the boy put into the chest, and after he had been conveyed on board the cartel, Spicer communicated the affair to the commanding officer on board the Jersey. The cartel was immediately boarded, as she had not yet left the port, and the boy was found and brought back. Spicer paid for his treachery with his life. The prisoners knocked him down the hatchway, when they were going down for the night; they then fell upon him, cut off his ears, and mangled him in a shocking manner, so that he died in a day or two.”
Christopher Hawkins's account of the Old Jersey isn't as trustworthy as some others who were on board. He was only on the ship for three days, but in that time, he saw enough to decide it was better to risk death trying to escape than to stay on board any longer. He states, “The cruel and unjustifiable treatment of the prisoners by the British quickly had a demoralizing effect on them. Boxing was allowed without limit.... After I left the ship, an American vessel came into the port of New York as a cartel for the exchange of prisoners.... A ship’s mate was lucky enough to be one of those exchanged. He had a large chest on board, and as discreetly as he could, he put the cabin boy inside the chest, locked it, and took it on board the cartel. A prisoner named Spicer saw the boy being put into the chest, and after he was taken on board the cartel, Spicer told the commanding officer on the Jersey. The cartel was immediately boarded, as it hadn't left port yet, and the boy was found and brought back. Spicer paid for his betrayal with his life. The other prisoners knocked him down the hatchway when they were going below for the night; they then attacked him, cut off his ears, and mutilated him in such a horrific way that he died in a day or two.”
This event occured after he left the ship, according to his own narrative. The same story is told in a different way by an eye witness of undoubted veracity. He says that the prisoners were so incensed against Spicer that they determined to kill him. For this purpose some of them held him, while another was about to cut his throat, when the guards, hearing the uproar, rushed down the hatchway, and rescued him.
This event happened after he left the ship, based on his own account. A different version of the same story comes from a reliable eyewitness. He says that the prisoners were so furious with Spicer that they decided to kill him. To do this, some of them held him down while another was about to slit his throat, when the guards, hearing the commotion, rushed down the hatch and saved him.
Hawkins also says: “I one day observed a prisoner on the forecastle of the ship, with his shirt in his hands, having stripped it from his body, deliberately picking the vermin from the pleats and putting them in his mouth. * * * I stepped very near the man and commenced a conversation with him. He said he had been on board two years and a half, or eighteen months. He had completely lost count of time, was a skeleton and nearly naked. This was only one case from perhaps a hundred similar. This man appeared in tolerable health as to body, his emaciation excepted. * * * The discipline of the prisoners by the British was in many respects of the most shocking and appalling character. The roll of the prisoners, as I was informed, was called every three months, unless a large acquisiton of prisoners should render it necessary more often. The next day after our crew were put on board the roll was called, and the police regulations of the ship were read. I heard this. One of the new regulations was to the effect that every captive trying to get away should suffer instant death, and should not even be taken on board alive.”
Hawkins also says: “One day I saw a prisoner on the forecastle of the ship, holding his shirt in his hands after tearing it off his body, and deliberately picking the bugs from the folds and putting them in his mouth. * * * I approached the man and started a conversation with him. He mentioned that he had been on board for two and a half years or eighteen months. He had completely lost track of time, was a skeleton, and nearly naked. This was just one case among probably a hundred similar ones. This man looked to be in reasonably good health aside from his extreme thinness. * * * The treatment of the prisoners by the British was, in many ways, shocking and appalling. The roster of prisoners, as I was told, was called every three months unless a large number of prisoners made it necessary to do it more often. The day after our crew was put on board, the roster was called, and the ship’s regulations were read. I heard this. One of the new regulations stated that any captive attempting to escape would be executed immediately and would not even be taken on board alive.”
It appears that David Laird commanded the Old Jersey from 1778 until early in the year 1781. He was then relieved of the command, and this office was given to a man named John Sporne, or Spohn, until the 9th of April, 1783, when all the prisoners remaining in her were released, and she was abandoned. The dread of contagion kept visitors aloof. She was still moored in the mud of the Wallabout by chain cables, and gradually sank lower and lower. There is a beam of her preserved as a curiosity at the Naval Museum at Brooklyn.
It seems that David Laird commanded the Old Jersey from 1778 until early 1781. He was then relieved of his position, and a man named John Sporne, or Spohn, took over until April 9, 1783, when all the remaining prisoners were released and the ship was abandoned. The fear of contagion kept visitors away. She was still anchored in the mud of the Wallabout by chain cables and gradually sank lower and lower. A beam from her is preserved as a curiosity at the Naval Museum in Brooklyn.
David Laird, the Scotchman who commanded her until the early part of 1781, returned to New York after the peace of 1783 as captain of a merchant ship, and moored his vessel at or near Peck’s Slip. A number of persons who had been prisoners on board the Jersey, and had suffered by his cruelty, assembled on the wharf to receive him, but he deemed it prudent to remain on ship-board during the short time his vessel was there.
David Laird, the Scotsman who was in charge of her until early 1781, came back to New York after the peace of 1783 as captain of a merchant ship and docked his vessel at or near Peck’s Slip. Several people who had been prisoners on the Jersey and had experienced his cruelty gathered on the wharf to welcome him, but he thought it better to stay on board during the brief time his ship was there.
It is in the recollections of Ebenezer Fox that we have the only mention ever made of a woman on board that dreadful place, the Old Jersey, and although she may have been and probably was an abandoned character, yet she seems to have been merciful, and unwilling to see the prisoners who were attempting to escape, butchered before her eyes. It is indeed to be hoped that no other woman ever set foot in that terrible place to suffer with the prisoners, and yet there are a few women’s names in the list of these wretched creatures given in the appendix to this book. It is most likely, however, that these were men, and that their feminine appellations were nicknames. [Footnote: One is named Nancy and one Bella, etc.]
It is in the memories of Ebenezer Fox that we have the only mention of a woman on that dreadful ship, the Old Jersey. Although she might have been, and probably was, a woman of questionable character, she appears to have been compassionate and didn’t want to see the prisoners trying to escape being killed in front of her. It is certainly to be hoped that no other woman ever stepped foot in that terrible place to suffer alongside the prisoners. Yet, there are a few women’s names listed among these unfortunate individuals in the appendix of this book. However, it’s quite likely that these were actually men who were referred to by feminine names as nicknames. [Footnote: One is named Nancy and one Bella, etc.]
CHAPTER XXIX. — TESTIMONY OF PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
We must again quote from Ebenezer Fox, whose description of the provisions dealt out to the prisoners on board the prison ships shall now be given.
We should once again reference Ebenezer Fox, whose account of the supplies given to the prisoners on the prison ships will now be presented.
“The prisoners received their mess rations at nine in the morning. * * * All our food appeared to be damaged. The bread was mostly mouldy, and filled with worms. It required considerable rapping upon the deck, before these worms could be dislodged from their lurking places in a biscuit. As for the pork, we were cheated out of it more than half the time, and when it was obtained one would have judged from its motley hues, exhibiting the consistence and appearance of variegated soap, that it was the flesh of the porpoise or sea hog, and had been an inhabitant of the ocean, rather than a sty. * * * The flavor was so unsavory that it would have been rejected as unfit for the stuffing of even Bologna sausages. The provisions were generally damaged, and from the imperfect manner in which they were cooked were about as indigestible as grape shot. The flour and oatmeal was often sour, and when the suet was mixed with the flour it might be nosed half the length of the ship. The first view of the beef would excite an idea of veneration for its antiquity, * * * its color was a dark mahagony, and its solidity would have set the keenest edge of a broad axe at defiance to cut across the grain, though like oakum it could be pulled to pieces, one way, in strings, like rope yarn. * * * It was so completely saturated with salt that after having been boiled in water taken from the sea, it was found to be considerably freshened by the process. * * * Such was our food, but the quality was not all of which we had to complain. * * * The cooking was done in a great copper vessel. * * * The Jersey, from her size, and lying near the shore, was embedded in the mud, and I don’t recollect seeing her afloat the whole time I was a prisoner. All the filth that accumulated among upwards of a thousand men was daily thrown overboard, and would remain there until carried away by the tide. The impurity of the water may be easily conceived, and in that water our meat was boiled. It will be recollected, too, that the water was salt, which caused the inside of the copper to be corroded to such a degree that it was lined with a coat of verdigris. Meat thus cooked must, in some degree, be poisoned, and the effects of it were manifest in the cadaverous countenances of the emaciated beings who had remained on board for any length of time.
“The prisoners got their food rations at nine in the morning. * * * All our food seemed to be spoiled. The bread was mostly moldy and filled with worms. It took a lot of banging on the deck to get the worms out of the biscuits. As for the pork, we were cheated out of it more than half the time, and when we did get it, its mixed colors and odd texture made it look like it was from a porpoise or sea hog rather than a pig. * * * The taste was so bad that it would have been considered unfit for even Bologna sausages. The provisions were generally spoiled, and the way they were cooked made them as hard to digest as grape shot. The flour and oatmeal were often sour, and when the suet was mixed in with the flour, you could smell it halfway down the ship. The first look at the beef would inspire respect for its age; * * * its color was a dark mahogany, and it was so tough that even the sharpest axe would struggle to cut it, though you could pull it apart in strings, like rope yarn. * * * It was so loaded with salt that after boiling it in seawater, it actually tasted a bit fresher. * * * Such was our food, but the quality wasn’t our only complaint. * * * The cooking was done in a large copper pot. * * * The Jersey, because of its size and location near the shore, was stuck in the mud, and I don’t remember seeing it float the entire time I was a prisoner. All the waste from over a thousand men was thrown overboard daily and stayed there until the tide carried it away. The water’s filthiness is easy to imagine, and that’s what our meat was boiled in. It should also be remembered that the water was salty, which caused the inside of the copper pot to corrode, creating a layer of verdigris. Meat cooked this way must be somewhat poisonous, and the effects were evident in the gaunt faces of the emaciated people who had been on board for any length of time.”
“* * * We passed the night amid the accumulated horrors of sighs and groans; of foul vapor; a nauseous and putrid atmosphere, in a stifling and almost suffocating heat. * * * Little sleep could be enjoyed, for the vermin were so horribly abundant that all the personal cleanliness we could practice would not protect us from their attacks.”
“* * * We spent the night surrounded by the overwhelming sounds of sighs and groans, in a stinky and rotten environment, with unbearable and almost suffocating heat. * * * We could barely sleep because the bugs were so incredibly plentiful that no amount of personal hygiene we could manage would keep them from bothering us.”
The public papers of the day often contained accounts of the cruelties practiced upon the prisoners on the ships. In the Pennsylvania Packet of Sept. 4th, 1781, there is an extract from a letter written by a prisoner whose name is not given.
The newspapers of the day frequently included reports about the brutal treatment of prisoners on the ships. In the Pennsylvania Packet from September 4th, 1781, there's an excerpt from a letter written by an unnamed prisoner.
“EXTRACT FROM A LETTER DATED ON BOARD THE JERSEY (VULGARLY CALLED HELL) PRISON SHIP
“EXTRACT FROM A LETTER DATED ON BOARD THE JERSEY (COMMONLY KNOWN AS HELL) PRISON SHIP”
“New York August 10th 1781
New York, August 10, 1781
“There is nothing but death or entering into the British service before me. Our ship’s company is reduced by death and entering into the British service to the small number of 19. * * * I am not able to give you even the outlines of my exile; but this much I will inform you, that we bury 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 in a day. We have 200 more sick and falling sick every day; the sickness is the yellow fever, small pox, and in short everything else that can be mentioned.”
“There’s nothing ahead of me but death or joining the British service. Our crew has shrunk to just 19 due to death and enlistment. * * * I can't even share the details of my exile; all I can tell you is that we bury 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 people in a single day. We have 200 more sick, and more are getting sick every day; the illnesses include yellow fever, smallpox, and pretty much everything else you can think of.”
“New London. Conn. March 3rd. 1782. Sunday last a flag ship returned from New York which brought twenty Americans who had been a long time on board a prison ship. About 1,000 of our countrymen remain in the prison ships at New York, great part of whom have been in close confinement for more than six months, and in the most deplorable condition: many of them seeing no prospect of release are entering into the British service to elude the contagion with which the ships are fraught.”
“New London, Conn. March 3rd, 1782. Last Sunday, a flagship returned from New York, bringing back twenty Americans who had been aboard a prison ship for a long time. About 1,000 of our countrymen are still on the prison ships in New York, many of whom have been held in close confinement for over six months and are in terrible condition. With no hope of being released, many are joining the British service to escape the disease that the ships are filled with.”
EXTRACT OF A LETTER WRITTEN ON BOARD THE PRISON SHIP JERSEY, APRIL 26TH, 1782.
EXTRACT OF A LETTER WRITTEN ON BOARD THE PRISON SHIP JERSEY, APRIL 26TH, 1782.
“I am sorry to write you from this miserable place. I can assure you that since I have been here we have had only twenty men exchanged, although we are in number upwards of 700, exclusive of the sick in the Hospital ships, who died like sheep; therefore my intention is, if possible, to enter on board some merchant or transport vessel, as it is impossible for so many men to keep alive in one vessel.”
“I’m sorry to reach out from this awful place. I can promise you that since I got here, we’ve only had twenty men exchanged, and there are over 700 of us, not counting the sick in the hospital ships, who died like sheep. So, my plan is, if I can, to get on board some merchant or transport vessel, as it’s impossible for so many men to stay alive on one ship.”
“Providence. May 25th 1782. Sunday last a flag of truce returned here from New York and brought a few prisoners. We learn that 1100 Americans were on board the prison and hospital ships at New York, when the flag sailed from thence, and that from six to seven were generally buried every day.”
“Providence. May 25th, 1782. Last Sunday, a flag of truce came back here from New York and brought a few prisoners. We found out that there were 1,100 Americans on board the prison and hospital ships in New York when the flag left there, and that from six to seven were usually buried every day.”
“Salem. Mass. Extract from a letter of an officer on board the Jersey.—‘The deplorable situation I am in cannot be expressed. The captains, lieutenants, and sailing masters have gone to the Provost, but they have only gotten out of the frying pan into the fire. I am left here with about 700 miserable objects, eaten up by lice, and daily taking fevers, which carry them off fast. Nov 9th 1782.”
“Salem, Mass. Extract from a letter of an officer on board the Jersey.—‘The terrible situation I’m in can’t be put into words. The captains, lieutenants, and sailing masters have gone to the Provost, but they’ve only jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I’m left here with about 700 miserable people, infested with lice, and getting fevers daily that take them away quickly. Nov 9th 1782.”
By repeated acts of cruelty on the part of the British the Americans were, at last, stung to attempt something like retaliation. In 1782 a prison ship, given that name, was fitted up and stationed in the Thames near New London, as we learn from the following extract:
By the ongoing cruelty from the British, the Americans were finally provoked to seek some form of retaliation. In 1782, a prison ship, named as such, was prepared and stationed in the Thames near New London, as we see in the following excerpt:
“New London, Conn. May 24th 1782. Last Saturday the Retaliation prison ship was safely moored in the river Thames, about a mile from the ferry, for the receipt of such British prisoners as may fall into our hands, since which about 100 prisoners have been put on board.”
“New London, Conn. May 24, 1782. Last Saturday, the Retaliation prison ship was securely anchored in the Thames River, about a mile from the ferry, to receive any British prisoners we capture. Since then, around 100 prisoners have been placed on board.”
It is said that this ship was in use but a short time, and we have been unable to learn anything further of her history.
It’s said that this ship was only in service for a little while, and we haven’t been able to find out any more about her history.
Thomas Philbrook, who was a prisoner on board the Jersey for several months was one of the “working-party,” whose duty it was to scrub the decks, attend to the sick, and bring up the dead. He says: “As the morning dawned there would be heard the loud, unfeeling, and horrid cry, ‘Rebels! Bring up your dead!’
Thomas Philbrook, who was a prisoner on the Jersey for several months, was part of the "working party," responsible for scrubbing the decks, caring for the sick, and bringing up the dead. He says: “As morning broke, the loud, heartless, and terrible cry would ring out, ‘Rebels! Bring up your dead!’”
“Staggering under the weight of some stark, still form, I would at length gain the upper deck, when I would be met with the salutation: ‘What! you alive yet? Well, you are a tough one!’”
“Struggling under the burden of a heavy, motionless figure, I would finally reach the upper deck, where I'd be greeted with the remark: ‘What! you’re still alive? Well, you’re a tough one!’”
CHAPTER XXX. — RECOLLECTIONS OF ANDREW SHERBURNE
Andrew Sherburne, a lad of seventeen, shipped on the Scorpion, Captain R. Salter, a small vessel, with a crew of eighteen men. This vessel was captured by the Amphion, about the middle of November, 1782. Sherburne says that the sailors plundered them of everything they possessed, and that thirteen of them were put on board the Amphion, and sent down to the cable tiers between the two decks, where they found nearly a hundred of their countrymen, who were prisoners of war.
Andrew Sherburne, a seventeen-year-old, boarded the Scorpion, Captained by R. Salter, a small ship with a crew of eighteen men. This vessel was captured by the Amphion around mid-November 1782. Sherburne states that the sailors took everything they owned and that thirteen of them were transferred to the Amphion, where they were placed in the cable tiers between the two decks. There, they discovered nearly a hundred of their fellow countrymen who were prisoners of war.
“We were very much crowded, and having nothing but the cables to lay on, our beds were as hard and unpleasant as though they were made of cord wood, and indeed we had not sufficient room for each to stretch himself at the same time.
“We were really crowded, and having nothing but the cables to lie on, our beds were as hard and uncomfortable as if they were made of firewood, and we barely had enough space for everyone to stretch out at the same time."
“After about two weeks we arrived at New York, and were put on board that wretched ship the Jersey. The New York prison ships had been the terror of American tars for years. The Old Jersey had become notorious in consequence of the unparallelled mortality on board her. * * *
“After about two weeks, we arrived in New York and were placed on that miserable ship, the Jersey. The New York prison ships had been feared by American sailors for years. The Old Jersey had become infamous due to the unparalleled deaths that occurred on board her. * * *
“I entered the Jersey towards the last of November, I had just entered the eighteenth year of my age, and had now to commence a scene of suffering almost without a parallel. * * * A large proportion of the prisoners had been robbed of their clothing. * * * Early in the winter the British took the Chesapeake frigate of about thirty guns, and 300 hands. All were sent on board the Jersey, which so overcrowded her, that she was very sickly. This crew died exceedingly fast, for a large proportion were fresh hands, unused to the sea.”
“I entered the Jersey at the end of November. I had just turned eighteen and was about to face a time of suffering that was almost unmatched. * * * Many of the prisoners had been stripped of their clothes. * * * Early in the winter, the British captured the Chesapeake frigate, which had about thirty guns and 300 crew members. All of them were sent on board the Jersey, which became so overcrowded that illness spread rapidly. This new crew died at an alarming rate because a lot of them were inexperienced and not used to being at sea.”
Sherburne says that boats from the city brought provisions to sell to such of the prisoners as were so fortunate as to be possessed of money, and that most of them were able to make purchases from them. A piece of sausage from seven to nine inches long sold for sixpence.
Sherburne says that boats from the city brought food to sell to the prisoners who were lucky enough to have money, and that most of them were able to make purchases. A piece of sausage, about seven to nine inches long, sold for sixpence.
In January, 1783, Sherburne became ill and was sent to the Frederick, a hospital ship. In this two men shared every bunk, and the conditions were wretchedly unsanitary. He was placed in a bunk with a man named Wills from Massachusetts, a very gentle and patient sufferer, who soon died.
In January 1783, Sherburne got sick and was sent to the Frederick, a hospital ship. On this ship, two men shared each bunk, and the conditions were extremely unsanitary. He was put in a bunk with a man named Wills from Massachusetts, who was very gentle and patient despite his suffering, but he soon died.
“I have seen seven men drawn out and piled together on the lower hatchway, who had died in one night on board the Frederick.
“I have seen seven men lined up and stacked together on the lower hatchway, who died in just one night on the Frederick.”
“There were ten or twelve nurses, and about a hundred sick. Some, if not all of the nurses, were prisoners. * * * They would indulge in playing cards and drinking, while their fellows were thirsting for water and some dying. At night the hatches were shut down and locked, and the nurses lived in the steerage, and there was not the least attention paid to the sick except by the convalescent, who were so frequently called upon that, in many cases, they overdid themselves, relapsed, and died.”
“There were ten or twelve nurses and about a hundred sick people. Some, if not all, of the nurses were prisoners. * * * They would spend their time playing cards and drinking while their fellow inmates were desperate for water and some were dying. At night, the hatches were closed and locked, and the nurses stayed in the lower deck, paying little attention to the sick except for the convalescent ones. They were often asked to help so much that, in many cases, they overexerted themselves, relapsed, and died.”
Sherburne suffered extremely from the cold. “I have often,” he says “toiled the greatest part of the night, in rubbing my feet and legs to keep them from freezing. * * * In consequence of these chills I have been obliged to wear a laced stocking upon my left leg for nearly thirty years past. My bunk was directly against the ballast-port; and the port not being caulked, when there came a snow-storm the snow would blow through the seams in my bed, but in those cases there was one advantage to me, when I could not otherwise procure water to quench my thirst. The provision allowed the sick was a gill of wine, and twelve ounces of bread per day. The wine was of an ordinary quality, and the bread made of sour or musty flour, and sometimes poorly baked. There was a small sheet iron stove between decks, but the fuel was green, and not plenty, and there were some peevish and surly fellows generally about it. I never got an opportunity to sit by it, but I could generally get the favor of some one near it to lay a slice of bread upon it, to warm or toast it a little, to put into my wine and water. We sometimes failed in getting our wine for several days together; we had the promise of its being made up to us, but this promise was seldom performed. * * * Water was brought on board in casks by the working party, and when it was very cold it would freeze in the casks, and it would be difficult to get it out. * * * I was frequently under the necessity of pleading hard to get my cup filled. I could not eat my bread, but gave it to those who brought me water. I have given three days allowance to have a tin cup of water brought me. * * * A company of the good citizens of New York supplied all the sick with a pint of good Bohea tea, well sweetened with molasses a day; and this was constant. I believe this tea saved my life, and the lives of hundreds of others. * * * The physicians used to visit the sick once in several days: their stay was short, nor did they administer much medicine. Were I able to give a full description of our wretched and filthy condition I should almost question whether it would be credited. * * * It was God’s good pleasure to raise me up once more so that I could just make out to walk, and I was again returned to the Jersey prison ship.”
Sherburne really struggled with the cold. “I have often,” he says, “spent most of the night rubbing my feet and legs to keep them from freezing. * * * Because of these chills, I’ve had to wear a laced stocking on my left leg for nearly thirty years. My bunk was right against the ballast-port, and since the port wasn’t caulked, whenever there was a snowstorm, the snow would blow through the seams of my bed. However, in those cases, there was one benefit: when I couldn't find water to quench my thirst. The provision for the sick was a gill of wine and twelve ounces of bread each day. The wine was average quality, and the bread was made from sour or musty flour, sometimes poorly baked. There was a small sheet iron stove between decks, but the fuel was green and scarce, plus there were usually some grumpy and unfriendly guys hanging around it. I never got a chance to sit by it, but I could usually convince someone nearby to lay a slice of bread on it to warm or toast it a bit, so I could add it to my wine and water. Sometimes we went days without getting our wine; we were promised it would be made up to us, but those promises were rarely kept. * * * Water was brought on board in barrels by the working party, and when it was very cold, it would freeze in the barrels, making it hard to get out. * * * I often had to beg hard to get my cup filled. I couldn't eat my bread, so I gave it to those who brought me water. I once gave away three days' worth of rations just to have a tin cup of water brought to me. * * * A group of good citizens from New York provided all the sick with a pint of good Bohea tea, sweetened with molasses each day; and this was consistent. I believe this tea saved my life and the lives of hundreds of others. * * * The doctors would visit the sick every few days: their visits were short, and they didn’t give much medicine. If I could fully describe our miserable and filthy condition, I would almost doubt it would be believed. * * * It was God's good pleasure to help me get back on my feet so that I could just manage to walk again, and I was sent back to the Jersey prison ship.”
Here he received sad news. One of his uncles was a prisoner on board the Jersey, and had been very kind to him, giving him a share of his money with which to purchase necessaries. Now he found his uncle about to take his place in the hospital ship. A boy named Stephen Nichols also informed him of the death in his absence of the gunner of their ship, whose name was Daniel Davis. This poor man had his feet and legs frozen, from which he died.
Here he got the heartbreaking news. One of his uncles was a prisoner on the Jersey and had been really kind to him, sharing his money so he could buy essentials. Now, he learned that his uncle was about to take his place on the hospital ship. A boy named Stephen Nichols also told him that the gunner of their ship, a man named Daniel Davis, had died while he was away. This poor guy had his feet and legs frozen, which ultimately led to his death.
“Nichols and myself were quite attached to each other. * * * We stalked about the decks together, lamenting our forlorn condition. In a few days there came orders to remove all the prisoners from the Jersey in order to cleanse the ship. We were removed on board of transports, and directly there came on a heavy storm. The ship on which I was was exceedingly crowded, so that there was not room enough for each man to lay down under deck, and the passing and repassing by day had made the lower deck entirely wet. Our condition was distressing. After a few days we were all put on board the Jersey again. A large number had taken violent colds, myself among the rest. The hospital ships were soon crowded, and even the Jersey herself shortly became about as much of a hospital ship as the others.”
“Nichols and I were really close to each other. * * * We walked around the decks together, lamenting our miserable situation. After a few days, we received orders to move all the prisoners from the Jersey to clean the ship. We were transferred to transports, and right after that, a heavy storm hit. The ship I was on was extremely crowded, leaving barely enough room for each man to lie down below deck, and the constant movement during the day had made the lower deck completely wet. Our situation was distressing. After a few days, we were all put back on the Jersey again. A lot of people had caught severe colds, myself included. The hospital ships quickly became overcrowded, and soon the Jersey herself turned into a hospital ship just like the others.”
Sherburne was again sent to a hospital ship, where he was rejoiced to find his uncle convalescing. A man who lay next him had been a nurse, but had had his feet and legs frozen, the toes and bottom of his feet fell off.
Sherburne was once again sent to a hospital ship, where he was happy to find his uncle recovering. A man lying next to him had been a nurse but had frozen his feet and legs; his toes and the bottoms of his feet had fallen off.
Two brothers shared a bunk near him. Their names were John and Abraham Falls. John was twenty-three, and Abraham only sixteen. Both were very sick. One night Abraham was heard imploring John not to lie on him, and the other invalids reproached him for his cruelty in thus treating his young brother. But John was deaf to their reproaches, for he was dead. Abraham was too ill to move from under him. Next day the dead brother was removed from the living one, but it was too late to save him, and the poor boy died that morning.
Two brothers shared a bunk near him. Their names were John and Abraham Falls. John was twenty-three, and Abraham was only sixteen. Both were very sick. One night, they heard Abraham begging John not to lie on him, and the other sick people scolded him for being cruel to his younger brother. But John ignored their criticism because he was dead. Abraham was too weak to move from underneath him. The next day, the dead brother was taken away from the living one, but it was too late to save him, and sadly, the poor boy died that morning.
Sherburne says that only five of his crew of thirteen survived, and that in many instances a much larger proportion died.
Sherburne says that only five out of his crew of thirteen survived, and that in many cases a much larger number died.
“At length came news of peace. It was exceedingly trying to our feelings to see our ship mates daily leaving us, until our ship was almost deserted. We were, however, convalescent, but we gained exceedingly slowly. * * * I think there were but seven or eight left on board the hospital ship when we left it, in a small schooner sent from R. I., for the purpose of taking home some who belonged to that place, and the commander of the hospital ship had the humanity to use his influence with the master of the cartel to take us on board, and to our unspeakable joy he consented.”
“At last, we received word of peace. It was incredibly hard for us to watch our shipmates leave one by one each day until our ship was nearly empty. We were recovering, but it was a very slow process. * * * When we finally left the hospital ship, I think there were only seven or eight of us left on board. We boarded a small schooner sent from Rhode Island to take home some of the people from that area, and the commander of the hospital ship kindly persuaded the captain of the cartel to let us on board, which filled us with immense joy when he agreed.”
When at last he reached home he says: “My brother Sam took me into another room to divest me of my filthy garments and to wash and dress me. He having taken off my clothes and seen my bones projecting here and there, was so astonished that his strength left him. He sat down on the point of fainting, and could render me no further service. I was able to wash myself and put on my clothes.”
When he finally got home, he said: “My brother Sam took me into another room to get me out of my dirty clothes and to wash and dress me. When he took off my clothes and saw my bones sticking out in different places, he was so shocked that he nearly fainted. He sat down, about to pass out, and couldn't help me any longer. I managed to wash myself and put on my clothes.”
After this he was obliged to spend twenty days in bed. Poor Mrs. Falls, the mother of the two young men who had died on the hospital ship, called on him and heard the fate of her sons. She was in an agony, and almost fainted, and kept asking if it was not a mistake that both were dead.
After this, he had to stay in bed for twenty days. Poor Mrs. Falls, the mother of the two young men who had died on the hospital ship, visited him and learned what happened to her sons. She was devastated, almost fainting, and kept asking if it was a mistake that both were dead.
CHAPTER XXXI. — CAPTAIN ROSWELL PALMER
In the year 1865 a son of Captain Roswell Palmer, of Connecticut, wrote a letter to Mr. Henry Drowne, in which he narrates the story of his father’s captivity, which we will condense in these pages. He says that his father was born in Stonington, Conn., in August, 1764, and was about seventeen at the time of his capture by the British, which must have been in 1781.
In 1865, Captain Roswell Palmer's son from Connecticut wrote a letter to Mr. Henry Drowne, telling the story of his father's captivity, which we will summarize here. He notes that his father was born in Stonington, Conn., in August 1764, and was about seventeen when the British captured him, which would have been in 1781.
Palmer had several relations in the army, and was anxious to enlist, but was rejected as too young. His uncle, however, received him as an assistant in the Commissary Department, and when the brig Pilgrim, of Stonington, was commissioned to make war on the public enemy, the rejected volunteer was warmly welcomed on board by his kinsman, Captain Humphrey Crary.
Palmer had several relatives in the army and was eager to enlist, but he was turned down for being too young. His uncle, however, took him on as an assistant in the Commissary Department. When the brig Pilgrim from Stonington was commissioned to fight against the enemy, the rejected volunteer was happily welcomed on board by his relative, Captain Humphrey Crary.
The first night after putting to sea, the Pilgrim encountered a British fleet just entering the Vineyard Sound. A chase and running fight of several hours ensued, but at length the vessel was crippled and compelled to surrender. The prize was taken into Holmes’ Hole, and the crew subsequently brought to New York. Mr. Henry Palmer thus describes the Jersey, which was his father’s destination.
The first night after setting sail, the Pilgrim ran into a British fleet just entering Vineyard Sound. A chase and running fight lasted for several hours, but eventually the ship was damaged and had to surrender. The captured ship was brought into Holmes’ Hole, and the crew was later taken to New York. Mr. Henry Palmer describes the Jersey, which was his father's destination.
“The Jersey never left her anchorage at the Wallabout, whether from decrepitude, or the intolerable burden of woes and wrongs accumulated in her wretched hulk,—but sank slowly down at last into the subjacent ooze, as if to hide her shame from human sight, and more than forty years after my father pointed out to me at low tide huge remnants of her unburied skeleton.
“The Jersey never left her spot at the Wallabout, whether due to old age or the heavy load of sorrows and injustices piled up in her miserable hull—but finally sank slowly down into the muddy bottom, as if to hide her shame from view. More than forty years later, my father showed me at low tide the huge remains of her unburied skeleton.”
“On board of this dread Bastile were crowded year after year, some 1,400 prisoners, mostly Americans. The discipline was very strict, while the smallest possible attention was paid by their warders to the sufferings of the captives. Cleanliness was simply an impossibility, where the quarters were so narrow, the occupants so numerous, and little opportunity afforded for washing the person or the tatters that sought to hide its nakedness. Fortunate was the wretch who possessed a clean linen rag, for this, placed in his bosom, seemed to attract to it crowds of his crawling tormentors, whose squatter sovereignty could be disposed of by the wholesale at his pleasure.
“On board this dreaded Bastille, there were crowded year after year about 1,400 prisoners, mostly Americans. The discipline was extremely strict, and the warders paid minimal attention to the suffering of the captives. Cleanliness was simply impossible, given how cramped the quarters were, how many people occupied them, and how little opportunity there was for washing themselves or the rags that barely covered them. The unfortunate individual who had a clean linen rag was lucky, as this rag, tucked into his shirt, seemed to attract swarms of his crawling tormentors, whose squatter dominance he could get rid of by the thousands at his whim.”
“The food of the prisoners consisted mainly of spoiled sea biscuit, and of navy beef, which had become worthless from long voyaging in many climes years before. These biscuits were so worm-eaten that a slight pressure of the hand reduced them to dust, which rose up in little clouds of insubstantial aliment, as if in mockery of the half famished expectants. For variety a ration called ‘Burgoo,’ was prepared several times a week, consisting of mouldy oatmeal and water, boiled in two great Coppers, and served out in tubs, like swill to swine.
“The prisoners' food mainly consisted of spoiled sea biscuits and navy beef, which had become useless from years of long journeys in various climates. The biscuits were so infested with worms that just a slight press of the hand turned them into dust, creating little clouds of useless food, as if mocking the half-starved people waiting for a meal. For some variety, a dish called 'Burgoo' was made several times a week, consisting of moldy oatmeal and water, boiled in two large pots, and served in tubs, like slop to pigs.”
“By degrees they grew callous to each other’s miseries, and alert to seize any advantage over their fellow sufferers. Many played cards day and night, regardless of the scenes of woe and despair around them. * * * The remains (of those who died) were huddled into blankets, and so slightly interred on the neighboring slope that scores of them, bared by the rains, were always visible to their less fortunate comrades left to pine in hopeless captivity. * * * After having been imprisoned about a year and a half my father, one night, during a paroxysm of fever, rushed on board, and jumped overboard.
“Gradually, they became numb to each other's suffering and were quick to take advantage of their fellow sufferers. Many played cards day and night, ignoring the scenes of sorrow and despair around them. * * * The bodies (of those who died) were stuffed into blankets and so lightly buried on the nearby slope that many of them, exposed by the rain, were always visible to their less fortunate comrades who were left to waste away in hopeless captivity. * * * After being imprisoned for about a year and a half, my father, one night, during a fever attack, rushed on board and jumped overboard."
“The shock restored him to consciousness, he was soon rescued, and the next morning was taken by the Surgeon-General’s orders to his quarters in Cherry St., near Pearl, where he remained until the close of the war. The kind doctor had taken a fancy to the handsome Yankee patient, whom he treated with fatherly kindness; giving him books to read; and having him present at his operations and dissections; and finally urged him to seek his fortune in Europe, where he should receive a good surgical education free of charge.
“The shock brought him back to consciousness, and he was soon rescued. The next morning, by the Surgeon-General's orders, he was taken to his quarters on Cherry St., near Pearl, where he stayed until the war ended. The kind doctor had taken a liking to the good-looking Yankee patient, treating him with fatherly care, giving him books to read, having him watch his operations and dissections, and eventually encouraging him to try his luck in Europe, where he could get a solid surgical education for free.”
“The temptation was very great, but the rememberance of a nearer home and dearer friends, unseen for years, was greater, and to them the long lost returned at last, as one from the dead.”
“The temptation was really strong, but the thought of a nearby home and beloved friends, whom I hadn’t seen in years, was stronger. To them, the long-lost finally returned, as if coming back from the dead.”
Captain Palmer commanded a merchant ship after the war, retired and bought a farm near Stockbridge, Mass. He followed the sea over forty years. In appearance he was very tall, erect, robust, and of rare physical power and endurance. He had remarkably small hands and feet, a high and fair forehead, his hair was very black, a tangle of luxuriant curls, and his eyes were clear hazel. He died in his 79th year, in 1844, leaving a large family of children. In his own memoranda he writes: “Four or five hundred Frenchmen were transferred as prisoners to the orlop deck of the Jersey. They were much better treated than we Americans on the deck above them. All, however, suffered very much for the want of water, crowding around two half hogsheads when they were brought on board, and often fighting for the first drink. On one of these occasions a Virginian near me was elbowed by a Spaniard and thrust him back. The Spaniard drew a sheath knife, when the Virginian knocked him headlong backwards, down two hatches, which had just been opened for heaving up a hogshead of stale water from the hold, for the prisoners’ drink. This water had probably been there for years, and was as ropy as molasses.
Captain Palmer commanded a merchant ship after the war, retired, and bought a farm near Stockbridge, Mass. He spent over forty years at sea. In appearance, he was very tall, upright, strong, and had exceptional physical power and stamina. He had notably small hands and feet, a high and fair forehead, very black hair that was a tangle of lush curls, and clear hazel eyes. He died at the age of 79 in 1844, leaving behind a large family. In his own notes, he writes: “Four or five hundred Frenchmen were transferred as prisoners to the orlop deck of the Jersey. They were treated much better than we Americans on the deck above them. Still, all of us suffered a lot from the lack of water, crowding around two half hogsheads when they were brought on board, often fighting for the first drink. On one of these occasions, a Virginian next to me was elbowed by a Spaniard and pushed him back. The Spaniard pulled out a sheath knife, and the Virginian knocked him headlong backwards down two hatches that had just been opened to bring up a hogshead of stale water from the hold for the prisoners to drink. This water had probably been there for years and was as thick as molasses.”
“There was a deal of trouble between the American and the French and Spanish prisoners. The latter slept in hammocks, we, on the floor of the deck next above them. One night our boys went down * * * and, at a given signal, cut the hammock lashings of the French and Spanish prisoners at the head, and let them all down by the run on the dirty floor. In the midst of the row that followed this deed of darkness, the Americans stole back to their quarters, and were all fast asleep when the English guard came down.
“There was a lot of trouble between the American and the French and Spanish prisoners. The latter slept in hammocks, while we slept on the floor of the deck above them. One night, our guys went down * * * and, at a signal, cut the hammock ties of the French and Spanish prisoners at the head, letting them all fall quickly onto the dirty floor. Amid the chaos that followed this sneaky act, the Americans slipped back to their quarters and were all fast asleep when the English guard came down.”
“No lights were permitted after ten o’clock. We used, however, to hide our candles occasionally under our hats, when the order came to ‘Douse the glim!’ One night the officer of the guard discovered our disobedience, and came storming down the hatchway with a file of soldiers. Our lights were all extinguished in a moment, and we on the alert for our tyrants, whom we seized with a will, and hustled to and fro in the darkness, till their cries aroused the whole ship.”
“No lights were allowed after ten o’clock. However, we sometimes hid our candles under our hats when the order came to ‘Put out the lights!’ One night, the guard officer found out about our disobedience and came charging down the hatch with a line of soldiers. In an instant, all our lights were out, and we were ready for our oppressors, whom we grabbed eagerly and tossed around in the dark until their screams woke up the entire ship.”
An uncle of Roswell Palmer’s named Eliakim Palmer, a man named Thomas Hitchcock, and John Searles were prisoners on board the Scorpion, a British 74, anchored off the Battery, New York. They were about to be transferred to the Old Jersey, when Hitchcock went into the chains and dropped his hat into the water. On his return he begged for a boat to recover it, and being earnestly seconded by Lieutenant Palmer, the officer of the deck finally consented, ordering a guard to accompany the “damned rebels.” They were a long time in getting the boat off. The hat, in the mean time, floated away from the ship. They rowed very awkardly, of course got jeered at uproariously for “Yankee land lubbers,” and were presently ordered to return. Being then nearly out of musket range, Lieutenant Palmer suddenly seized and disarmed the astonished guard, while his comrades were not slow in manifesting their latent adroitness in the use of the oar, to the no less astonishment of their deriders. In a moment the Bay was alive with excitement; many shots, big and little, were fired at the audacious fugitives from all the fleet; boats put off in hot pursuit; but the Stonington boys reached the Jersey shore in safety, and escaped with their prisoner to Washington’s headquarters, where the tact and bravery they had displayed received the approval of the great commander.
An uncle of Roswell Palmer named Eliakim Palmer, along with Thomas Hitchcock and John Searles, were prisoners on the Scorpion, a British 74-gun ship anchored off Battery Park in New York. They were about to be transferred to the Old Jersey when Hitchcock went into the chains and dropped his hat into the water. Upon returning, he asked for a boat to retrieve it, and with Lieutenant Palmer supporting his request, the officer on deck finally agreed, ordering a guard to accompany the "damned rebels." It took them a long time to get the boat ready, and meanwhile, the hat floated away from the ship. They rowed awkwardly and were loudly mocked as "Yankee land lubbers," and soon enough, they were ordered to return. Just as they were almost out of musket range, Lieutenant Palmer suddenly seized and disarmed the surprised guard, while his fellow prisoners quickly showed their hidden skill with the oars, shocking their critics. Suddenly, the Bay was filled with excitement; many shots, both big and small, were fired at the daring escapees from the entire fleet, and boats set off in hot pursuit. Nevertheless, the Stonington boys reached the Jersey shore safely and escaped with their prisoner to Washington's headquarters, where their cleverness and bravery earned praise from the great commander.
Lieutenant Eliakim Palmer was again taken prisoner later in the war and again escaped. This time he was on board the Jersey. He cut away three iron bars let into an aperture on the side of the ship on the orlop deck, formerly a part of her hold. He swam ashore with his shirt and trousers tied to his head. Having lost his trousers he was obliged to make his way down Long Island for nearly its whole length, in his shirt only. He hid in ditches during the day, subsisting on berries, and the bounty of cows, milked directly into his mouth. He crawled by the sentries stationed at different parts of the island, and at length, after many days, reached Oyster Pond Point, whence he was smuggled by friends to his home in Stonington, Conn.
Lieutenant Eliakim Palmer was captured again later in the war but managed to escape once more. This time, he was on the Jersey. He cut away three iron bars that were part of an opening on the side of the ship on the orlop deck, which used to be a part of her hold. He swam ashore with his shirt and pants tied to his head. After losing his pants, he had to make his way down Long Island nearly the entire length, wearing just his shirt. He hid in ditches during the day, living off berries and milking cows directly into his mouth. He crawled past the guards stationed at different parts of the island, and finally, after many days, he reached Oyster Pond Point, where friends smuggled him back to his home in Stonington, Conn.
CHAPTER XXXII. — THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN ALEXANDER COFFIN
In 1807 Dr. Mitchell, of New York published a small volume entitled: “The Destructive Operation of Foul Air, Tainted Provisions, Bad Water, and Personal Filthiness, Upon Human Constitutions, Exemplified in the Unparallelled Cruelty of the British to the American Captives at New York During the Revolutionary War, on Board their Prison and Hospital ships. By Captain Alexander Coffin, Junior, One of the Surviving Sufferers. In a Communication to Dr. Mitchell, dated September 4th, 1807.”
In 1807, Dr. Mitchell from New York published a small book titled: “The Destructive Effects of Dirty Air, Spoiled Food, Contaminated Water, and Personal Hygiene on Human Health, Illustrated by the Unmatched Cruelty of the British towards American Captives in New York During the Revolutionary War, Aboard their Prison and Hospital Ships. By Captain Alexander Coffin, Junior, One of the Surviving Victims. In a Letter to Dr. Mitchell, dated September 4, 1807.”
Truly our ancestors were long-winded! A part of this narrative is as follows: “I shall furnish you with an account of the treatment that I, with other of my fellow citizens, received on board the Jersey and John prison ships, those monuments of British barbarity and infamy. I shall give you nothing but a plain simple statement of facts that cannot be controverted. And I begin my narrative from the time of my leaving the South Carolina frigate.
Truly, our ancestors were long-winded! A part of this story is as follows: “I will provide you with an account of the treatment that I, along with some of my fellow citizens, received on board the Jersey and John prison ships, those symbols of British cruelty and disgrace. I will give you nothing but a straightforward statement of facts that cannot be disputed. And I start my story from the time I left the South Carolina frigate."
“In June, 1782, I left the above-mentioned frigate in the Havana, on board of which I had long served as a mid-ship-man, and made several trading voyages. I sailed early in September, from Baltimore, for the Havana, in a fleet of about forty sail, most of which were captured, and we among the rest, by the British frigate, Ceres, Captain Hawkins, a man in every sense of the word a perfect brute.
“In June 1782, I left the frigate mentioned earlier in Havana, where I had served for a long time as a midshipman and went on several trading voyages. I set sail in early September from Baltimore to Havana, in a fleet of about forty ships, most of which were captured, including us, by the British frigate, Ceres, led by Captain Hawkins, a man who was, in every possible way, a complete brute.”
“Though our commander, Captain Hughes, was a very gentlemanly man, he was treated in the most shameful and abusive manner by said Hawkins, and ordered below to mess with the petty officers. Our officers were put into the cable tier, with the crew, and a guard placed at the hatchway to prevent more than two going on deck at a time. The provisions were of the very worst kind, and very short allowance even of them. They frequently gave us pea-soup, that is pea-water, for the pease and the soup, all but about a gallon or two, were taken for the ship’s company, and the coppers filled up with water, and brought down to us in a strap-tub. And Sir, I might have defied any person on earth, possessing the most acute olfactory powers and the most refined taste to decide, either by one or the other or both of these senses, whether it was pease and water, slush and water, or swill.
“Even though our commander, Captain Hughes, was a really respectful man, he was treated in a very shameful and abusive way by Hawkins and ordered below to eat with the petty officers. Our officers were crammed into the cable tier with the crew, and a guard was placed at the hatchway to limit the number of people allowed on deck to two at a time. The food was of the absolute worst quality, and we received very little of it. They often served us pea-soup, which was basically pea-water, since most of the peas and soup—about a gallon or two—were taken for the ship’s company, and they filled the pots with water and brought it down to us in a strap-tub. And honestly, I challenge anyone on earth, with the keenest sense of smell and most refined taste, to tell whether it was peas and water, slush and water, or swill.”
“After living and being treated in this way, subject to every insult and abuse for ten or twelve days, we fell in with the Champion, a British twenty gun ship, which was bound to New York to refit, and were all sent on board of her The Captain was a true seaman and a gentleman, and our treatment was so different from what we had experienced on board the Ceres, that it was like being removed from Purgatory to Paradise. His name, I think, was Edwards.
“After living and being treated like this, facing every insult and abuse for ten or twelve days, we came across the Champion, a British twenty-gun ship, which was headed to New York for repairs, and we were all sent on board her. The captain was a genuine seaman and a gentleman, and our treatment was so different from what we had experienced on the Ceres that it felt like being taken from Purgatory to Paradise. I believe his name was Edwards.”
“We arrived about the beginning of October in New York and were immediately sent on board the prison-ship in a small schooner, called, ironically enough, the Relief, commanded by one Gardner, an Irishman.
“We got to New York around the start of October and were immediately taken on board the prison ship in a small schooner, ironically named the Relief, captained by an Irishman named Gardner.
“This schooner Relief plied between the prison ship and New York, and carried the water and provisions from that city to the ship. In fact the said schooner might emphatically be called the Relief, for the execrable water and provisions she carried relieved many of my brave but unfortunate countrymen by death, from the misery and savage treatment they daily endured.
“This schooner Relief operated between the prison ship and New York, transporting water and supplies from the city to the ship. In fact, this schooner could definitely be called the Relief, as the horrible water and provisions she delivered relieved many of my brave but unfortunate countrymen by causing their deaths, freeing them from the misery and brutal treatment they faced every day.”
“Before I go on to relate the treatment we experienced on board the Jersey, I will make one remark, and that is if you were to rake the infernal regions, I doubt whether you could find such another set of demons as the officers and men who had charge of the Old Jersey Prison-ship, and, Sir, I shall not be surprised if you, possessing the finer feelings which I believe to be interwoven in the composition of men, and which are not totally torn from the piece, till by a long and obstinate perseverance in the meanest, the basest, and cruellest of all human acts, a man becomes lost to every sense of honor, of justice, of humanity, and common honesty; I shall not be surprised, I say, if you, possessing these finer feelings, should doubt whether men could be so lost to their sacred obligations to their God; and the moral ties which ought to bind them to their duty toward their fellow men, as those men were, who had the charge, and also who had any agency in the affairs of the Jersey prison-ship.
“Before I share the treatment we received on the Jersey, I want to say this: if you were to search the depths of hell, I doubt you'd find a worse group of monsters than the officers and crew in charge of the Old Jersey Prison-ship. And, Sir, I wouldn’t be surprised if you, having the sensitivity that I believe is inherent in men, and which isn’t completely stripped away until someone relentlessly engages in the most wretched, most cruel acts imaginable, becomes numb to any sense of honor, justice, humanity, and basic integrity; I wouldn’t be surprised, I say, if you, with these sensitivities, might question whether anyone could be so utterly neglectful of their sacred duties to God and the moral bonds that should tie them to their responsibilities toward others, as those in charge, and those involved in the operations of the Jersey prison-ship, were.”
“On my arrival on board the Old Jersey, I found there about 1,100 prisoners; many of them had been there from three to six months, but few lived over that time if they did not get away by some means or other. They were generally in the most deplorable situation, mere walking skeletons, without money, and scarcely clothes to cover their nakedness, and overrun with lice from head to feet.
“Upon boarding the Old Jersey, I found around 1,100 prisoners there; many had been held for three to six months, but few survived that long unless they managed to escape somehow. They were typically in a terrible state, nothing more than walking skeletons, without money, and barely any clothes to cover themselves, completely infested with lice from head to toe.”
“The provisions, Sir, that were served out to us, was not more than four or five ounces of meat, and about as much bread, all condemned provisions from the ships of war, which, no doubt, were supplied with new in their stead, and the new, in all probability, charged by the commissaries to the Jersey. They, however, know best about that; and however secure they may now feel, they will have to render an account of that business to a Judge who cannot be deceived. This fact, however, I can safely aver, that both the times I was confined on board the prison ships, there never were provisions served out to the prisoners that would have been eatable by men that were not literally in a starving situation.
“The food we were given was no more than four or five ounces of meat and about the same amount of bread, all spoiled supplies from the warships, which, I’m sure, were replaced with fresh provisions. The new supplies were probably charged to the Jersey by the commissaries. They know the details better than I do, and even if they feel safe now, they will eventually have to answer to a judge who can't be fooled. I can confidently say that during both times I was locked up on the prison ships, there was never food served to the prisoners that would have been suitable for anyone who wasn’t literally starving.”
“The water that we were forced to use was carried from the city, and I postively assert that I never after having followed the sea thirty years, had on board of any ship, (and I have been three years on some of my voyages,) water so bad as that we were obliged to use on board the Old Jersey; when there was, as it were to tantalize us, as pure water, not more than three cables length from us, at the Mill in the Wallabout, as was perhaps ever drank.
“The water we had to use was brought in from the city, and I can honestly say that after spending thirty years at sea, I never encountered water on any ship (and I’ve been on some voyages for three years) that was as awful as what we had to drink on the Old Jersey; especially since there was pure water, just out of reach, only about three cables away from us, at the Mill in the Wallabout, which was probably the best water anyone ever drank.”
“There were hogs kept in pens on the Gun-deck for their own use; and I have seen the prisoners watch an opportunity, and with a tin pot steal the bran from the hogs’ trough, and go into the Galley and when they could get an opportunity, boil it over the fire, and eat it, as you, Sir, would eat of good soup when hungry. This I have seen more than once, and there are now living besides me, who can bear testimony to the same fact. There are many other facts equally abominable that I could mention, but the very thought of those things brings to my recollection scenes the most distressing.
“There were pigs kept in pens on the Gun-deck for their own use; and I have seen the prisoners take the chance to sneak some bran from the pigs’ trough with a tin pot, then head into the Galley, and when they had the chance, boil it over the fire and eat it just like you, Sir, would enjoy a good soup when hungry. I've witnessed this more than once, and there are others still alive who can confirm the same thing. There are many other equally awful things I could mention, but just thinking about them brings back the most distressing memories.”
“When I reflect how many hundreds of my brave and intrepid countrymen I have seen, in all the bloom of health, brought on board of that ship, and in a few days numbered with the dead, in consequence of the savage treatment they there received, I can but adore my Creator that He suffered me to escape; but I did not escape, Sir, without being brought to the very verge of the grave.
“When I think about how many hundreds of my brave and fearless countrymen I have seen, all healthy and full of life, brought on board that ship, and within a few days counted among the dead due to the brutal treatment they received there, I can only thank my Creator for allowing me to escape; however, I did not escape, Sir, without being taken to the very brink of death."
“This was the second time I was on board, which I shall mention more particularly hereafter. Those of us who had money fared much better than those who had none. I had made out to save, when taken, about twenty dollars, and with that I could buy from the bumboats, that were permitted to come alongside, bread, fruit, etc.; but, Sir, the bumboatmen were of the same kidney as the officers of the Jersey and we got nothing from them without paying through the nose for it, and I soon found the bottom of my purse; after which I fared no better than the rest. I was, however, fortunate in one respect; for after having been there about six weeks, two of my countrymen, (I am a Nantucket man) happened to come to New York to endeavor to recover a whaling sloop that had been captured, with a whaling license from Admiral Digby; and they found means to procure my release, passing me for a Quaker, to which I confess I had no pretensions further than my mother being a member of that respectable society. Thus, Sir, I returned to my friends, fit for the newest fashion, after an absence of three years.
“This was the second time I was on board, which I’ll mention more specifically later. Those of us who had money had a much better experience than those who didn’t. I had managed to save about twenty dollars when I was taken, and with that, I could buy bread, fruit, and other things from the bumboats allowed to come alongside. But, Sir, the bumboatmen were just as greedy as the officers of the Jersey, and we didn’t get anything from them without paying a fortune for it. I quickly ran out of money, after which I was no better off than the others. However, I was lucky in one way; after being there for about six weeks, two of my fellow countrymen, (I’m from Nantucket), came to New York to try to recover a whaling sloop that had been captured, along with a whaling license from Admiral Digby. They found a way to secure my release by passing me off as a Quaker, which I don't really claim to be other than my mother being a member of that respectable group. So, Sir, I returned to my friends, dressed in the latest fashion, after being away for three years."
“For my whole wardrobe I carried on my back, which consisted of a jacket, shirt, and trousers, a pair of old shoes and a handkerchief, which served me for a hat, and had more than two months, for I lost my hat the day we were taken, from the maintop-gallant yard, furling the top-gallant sail.
“For my entire wardrobe, I carried on my back, which included a jacket, shirt, and pants, an old pair of shoes, and a handkerchief, which I used as a hat, and it had been with me for over two months since I lost my hat the day we were captured while furling the top-gallant sail from the maintop-gallant yard.”
“My clothing, I forgot to mention, was completed laced with locomotive tinsel, and moved as by instinct, in all directions; but as my mother was not fond of such company, she furnished me with a suit of my father’s, who was absent at sea, and condemned my laced suit for the benefit of all concerned.
“My clothes, I forgot to mention, were totally covered in shiny decorations, moving instinctively in every direction; but since my mother didn’t like that kind of thing, she gave me a suit that belonged to my father, who was away at sea, and condemned my flashy outfit for the good of everyone.”
“Being then in the prime of youth, about eighteen years of age, and naturally of a roving disposition; I could not bear the idea of being idle at home. I therefore proceeded to Providence, R. I., and shipped on board the brig Betsy and Polly, Captain Robert Folger, bound for Virginia and Amsterdam. We sailed from Newport early in February, 1783; and were taken five days after, off the capes of Virginia, by the Fair American privateer, of those parts, mounting sixteen six-pounders, and having 85 men, commanded by one Burton, a refugee, most of whose officers were of the same stamp. We were immediately handcuffed two and two, and ordered into the hold in the cable-tier. Having been plundered of our beds and bedding, the softest bed we had was the soft side of a water cask, and the coils of a cable.
“Being in the prime of my youth, around eighteen years old, and naturally adventurous, I couldn't stand the thought of being idle at home. So, I headed to Providence, R.I., and signed up on the brig Betsy and Polly, Captain Robert Folger, which was headed for Virginia and Amsterdam. We set sail from Newport in early February 1783, and just five days later, we were captured off the Virginia capes by the Fair American privateer, which had sixteen six-pounders and a crew of 85 men, led by a guy named Burton, who was a refugee, like most of his officers. We were immediately handcuffed in pairs and ordered into the hold in the cable-tier. After being stripped of our beds and bedding, the softest place we had to sleep was on the soft side of a water cask and the coils of a cable.”
“The Fair American, after having been handsomely dressed by an United States vessel of half of her force, was obliged to put into New York, then in possession of the British army, to refit, and we arrived within the Hook about the beginning of March, and were put on board a pilot boat, and brought up to this city. The boat hauled up alongside the Crane-wharf, where we had our irons knocked off, the mark of which I carry to this day; and were put on board the same schooner, Relief, mentioned in a former part of this narrative, and sent up once more to the prison-ship.
“The Fair American, after getting a good beating from a U.S. vessel that was half its size, had to dock in New York, which was then controlled by the British army, for repairs. We arrived near the Hook at the beginning of March and were taken aboard a pilot boat, which brought us into the city. The boat pulled up alongside Crane-wharf, where our shackles were removed—the marks of which I still bear today—and we were placed on the same schooner, Relief, mentioned earlier in this story, and sent back to the prison ship.”
“It was just three months from my leaving the Old Jersey to my being again a prisoner on board of her, and on my return I found but very few of the men I had left three months before. Some had made their escape; some had been exchanged; but the greater part had taken up their abode under the surface of the hill, which you can see from your windows, where their bones are mouldering to dust, mingled with mother earth; a lesson to Americans, written in capitals, on British cruelty and injustice.
“It was just three months from when I left the Old Jersey to when I found myself a prisoner on board her again, and on my return, I discovered that very few of the men I had left three months earlier were still there. Some had escaped; some had been exchanged; but most had made their home beneath the hill that you can see from your windows, where their bones are turning to dust, mixed with the earth; a lesson for Americans, written in capitals, on British cruelty and injustice.
“I found, on my return on board the Jersey, more prisoners than when I left her; and she being so crowded, they were obliged to send about 200 of us on board the John, a transport-ship of about 300 tons.
“I found, when I got back on the Jersey, that there were more prisoners than when I left her; and because it was so crowded, they had to send about 200 of us over to the John, a transport ship of about 300 tons.
“There we were treated worse, if possible, than on board the Jersey, and our accommodations were infinitely worse, for the Jersey, being an old, condemned 64 gun ship had two tiers of ports fore and aft, air-ports, and large hatchways, which gave a pretty free circulation of air through the ship; whereas the John, being a merchant-ship, and with small hatchways, and the hatchways being laid down every night, and no man being allowed to go on deck * * * the effluvia arising from these, together with the already contaminated air, occasioned by the breath of so many people so pent up together, was enough to destroy men of the most healthy and robust constitutions. All the time I was on board this ship, not a prisoner eat his allowance, bad as it was, cooked, more than three or four times; but eat it raw as it came out of the barrel. * * * In the middle of the ship, between decks, was raised a platform of boards about two and a half feet high, for those prisoners to sleep on who had no hammocks. On this they used frequently to sit and play at cards to pass the time. One night in particular, several of us sat to see them play until about ten o’clock, and then retired to our hammocks. About one A. M, we were called and told that one Bird was dying; we turned out and went to where he lay, and found him just expiring. Thus, at 10 P. M, the young man was apparently as well as any of us, and at one A. M. had paid the debt to nature. Many others went off in the same way. It will perhaps be said that men die suddenly anywhere. True, but do they die suddenly anywhere from the same cause? After all these things it is, I think, impossible for the mind to form any other conclusion than that there was a premeditated design to destroy as many Americans as they could on board the prison-ships; the treatment of the prisoners warrants the conclusion; but it is mean, base, and cowardly, to endeavor to conquer an enemy by such infamous means, and truly characteristic of base and cowardly wretches. The truly brave will always treat their prisoners well.
“There we were treated even worse, if that's possible, than on board the Jersey, and our accommodations were way worse because the Jersey, being an old, decommissioned 64-gun ship, had two levels of ports at the front and back, air-ports, and large hatchways that allowed for a decent flow of air throughout the ship. In contrast, the John, being a merchant ship, had small hatchways that were closed every night, and no one was allowed on deck * * * the foul air from this, combined with the already contaminated air from so many people crammed together, was enough to make even the healthiest and strongest men sick. The whole time I was on board this ship, not a single prisoner cooked his portion of food, bad as it was, more than three or four times; they just ate it raw straight from the barrel. * * * In the middle of the ship, between decks, there was a raised platform of boards about two and a half feet high, for the prisoners who didn't have hammocks to sleep on. They often sat there playing cards to pass the time. One night in particular, several of us watched them play until about ten o’clock, and then we went back to our hammocks. Around one A.M., we were called and told that one Bird was dying; we got up and went to where he lay, and found him just about to pass away. So, at 10 P.M., the young man seemed as healthy as any of us, and by one A.M., he had succumbed to death. Many others died in the same manner. It might be said that men die suddenly anywhere. That's true, but do they die suddenly anywhere for the same reason? After seeing all these things, I think it's impossible not to conclude that there was a deliberate plan to kill as many Americans as they could on board the prison ships; the treatment of the prisoners supports this conclusion; but it is mean, despicable, and cowardly to try to defeat an enemy using such disgraceful methods, truly characteristic of base and cowardly individuals. The truly brave will always treat their prisoners well."
“There were two or three hospital-ships near the prison-ships; and so soon as any of the prisoners complained of being sick, they were sent on board of one of them; and I verily believe that not one out of a hundred ever returned or recovered. I am sure I never knew but one to recover. Almost, and in fact I believe I may say every morning, a large boat from each of the hospital ships went loaded with dead bodies, which were all tumbled together into a hole dug for the purpose, on the hill where the national navy-yard now is.
“There were a couple of hospital ships near the prison ships, and as soon as any of the prisoners said they were sick, they were sent aboard one of them. I honestly believe that not one out of a hundred ever returned or got better. I'm pretty sure I only knew one person who recovered. Almost, in fact I think I can say every morning, a big boat from each of the hospital ships left loaded with dead bodies, which were all tossed together into a hole dug for that purpose, on the hill where the national navy yard is now.”
“A singular affair happened on board of one of the hospital-ships, and no less true than singular. All the prisoners that died after the boat with the load had gone ashore were sewed up in hammocks, and left on deck till next morning. As usual, a great number had thus been disposed of. In the morning, while employed in loading the boat, one of the seamen perceived motion in one of the hammocks, just as they were about launching it down the board placel for that purpose from the gunwale of the ship into the boat, and exclaimed, ‘Damn my eyes! That fellow isn’t dead!’ and if I have been rightly informed, and I believe I have, there was quite a dispute between the man and the others about it. They swore he was dead enough, and should go into the boat; he swore he should not be launched, as they termed it, and took his knife and ripped open the hammock, and behold, the man was really alive. There had been a heavy rain during the night; and as the vital functions had not totally ceased, but were merely suspended in consequence of the main-spring being out of order, this seasonable moistening must have given tone and elasticity to the great spring, which must have communicated to the lesser ones, and put the whole machinery again into motion. You know better about this than I do, and can better judge of the cause of the re-animation of the man. * * * He was a native of Rhode Island; his name was Gavot. He went to Rhode Island in the same flag of truce as myself, about a month afterwards. I felt extremely ill, but made out to keep about until I got home. My parents then lived on the island of Nantucket. I was then taken down, and lay in my bed six weeks in the most deplorable situation; my body was swelled to a great degree, and my legs were as big round as my body now is, and affected with the most excruciating pains. What my disorder was I will not pretend to say; but Dr. Tupper, quite an eminent physician, and a noted tory, who attended me, declared to my mother that he knew of nothing that would operate in the manner that my disorder did, but poison. For the truth of that I refer to my father and brothers, and to Mr. Henry Coffin, father to Captain Peter Coffin, of the Manchester Packet of this point.
“A unique incident occurred on one of the hospital ships, and it was as true as it was strange. All the prisoners who died after the boat with the supplies had gone ashore were wrapped in hammocks and left on deck until the next morning. As usual, many had been handled this way. In the morning, while getting ready to load the boat, one of the crew members noticed movement in one of the hammocks, just as they were about to lower it down from the side of the ship into the boat, and shouted, ‘Damn my eyes! That guy isn’t dead!’ If I’m right, and I believe I am, there was quite an argument between him and the others about it. They insisted he was definitely dead and should go into the boat; he insisted he wouldn’t be launched, as they called it, and took his knife and cut open the hammock, and lo and behold, the man was truly alive. There had been a heavy rain during the night, and since his vital functions hadn’t completely stopped but were merely suspended because the main-spring was out of order, this timely wetting must have brought some life and energy back to the main spring, which must have transferred to the smaller ones, and got the whole system moving again. You understand this better than I do and can better judge the reason for the man's revival. * * * He was from Rhode Island; his name was Gavot. He returned to Rhode Island on the same flag of truce as I did, about a month later. I felt extremely ill but managed to get home. My parents were living on Nantucket Island at the time. I then fell seriously ill and lay in bed for six weeks in a terrible state; my body was extremely swollen, and my legs were as thick as my body is now, causing me excruciating pain. I won’t claim to know what my illness was; however, Dr. Tupper, a prominent physician and a well-known loyalist who attended to me, told my mother that he knew of nothing that would cause my illness besides poison. For verification of that, I refer you to my father and brothers, and to Mr. Henry Coffin, the father of Captain Peter Coffin of the Manchester Packet from this point.”
“Thus, Sir, in some haste, without much attention to order or diction, I have given you part of the history of my life and sufferings, but I endeavored to bear them as became an American. And I must mention before I close, to the everlasting honor of those unfortunate Americans who were on board the Jersey, that notwithstanding the savage treatment they received, and death staring them in the face, every attempt which was made by the British to persuade them to enter their ships of war or in their army, was treated with the utmost contempt; and I saw only one instance of defection while I was on board, and that person was hooted at and abused by the prisoners till the boat was out of hearing. Their patriotism in preferring such treatment, and even death in its most frightful shapes, to the service of the British, and fighting against their own country has seldom been equalled, certainly never excelled, and if there be no monument raised with hands to commemorate the virtue of those men, it is stamped in capitals on the heart of every American acquainted with their merit and sufferings, and will there remain as long as the blood flows from its fountains.”
“So, Sir, in a bit of a rush and without focusing too much on order or wording, I’ve shared part of my life story and struggles, but I tried to handle them like an American should. Before I finish, I have to acknowledge the eternal honor of those unfortunate Americans who were on board the Jersey. Despite the brutal treatment they faced and death looming over them, every effort by the British to convince them to join their warships or army was met with utter disdain. I only witnessed one case of betrayal while I was on board, and that person was mocked and insulted by the other prisoners until the boat was out of earshot. Their patriotism in choosing such treatment, and even death in its most terrifying forms, over serving the British and fighting against their own country is rarely matched, and certainly never surpassed. Even if there’s no physical monument to honor those men, their virtue is engraved in bold letters on the hearts of every American who knows their worth and struggles, and it will remain there as long as blood flows from its sources.”
We have already seen that many of the prisoners on board the Jersey were impressed into the service of British men-of-war, and that others voluntarily enlisted for garrison duty in the West Indies. It seems probable, however, that, as Captain Coffin asserts, few enlisted in the service to fight against their own countrymen, and those few were probably actuated by the hope of deserting. It is certain that thousands preferred death to such a method of escaping from prison, as is proved by the multitudes of corpses interred in the sand of the Wallabout, all of whom could, in this way, have saved their lives. Conditions changed on board the Jersey, from time to time. Thus, the water supply that was at one time brought by the schooner Relief from New York, was, at other times, procured from a beautiful spring on Long Island, as we will see in our next chapter.
We’ve already noted that many of the prisoners on the Jersey were forced into service on British warships, while others willingly signed up for garrison duty in the West Indies. However, it seems likely, as Captain Coffin points out, that few chose to enlist to fight against their fellow countrymen, and those who did were probably hoping to desert. It's clear that thousands preferred death to such a way of escaping prison, as evidenced by the many corpses buried in the sand of the Wallabout; all of them could have saved their lives this way. Conditions on the Jersey changed from time to time. For example, the water supply, which was once brought by the schooner Relief from New York, was occasionally sourced from a beautiful spring on Long Island, as we will discuss in our next chapter.
Some of the prisoners speak of the foul air on board the prison ship caused by the fact that all her port holes were closed, and a few openings cut in her sides, which were insufficient to ventilate her. Coffin says there was a good passage of air through the vessel from her port holes. It is probable that the Jersey became so notorious as a death trap that at last, for very shame, some attempt was made to secure more sanitary conditions. Thus, just before peace was established, she was, for the first time, overhauled and cleaned, the wretched occupants being sent away for the purpose. The port holes were very probably opened, and this is the more likely as we read of some of the prisoners freezing to death during the last year of the war. From that calamity, at least, they were safe as long as they were deprived of outer air.
Some of the prisoners talk about the terrible air on the prison ship, which was due to all the port holes being closed and only a few openings cut into the sides that weren't enough for proper ventilation. Coffin claims that there was a good flow of air through the vessel from the port holes. It's likely that the Jersey became so infamous as a death trap that eventually, out of shame, some effort was made to improve the living conditions. So, just before peace was reached, the ship was cleaned out for the first time, and the miserable occupants were sent away for that purpose. The port holes were probably opened, and this seems more likely since we read about some prisoners freezing to death during the last year of the war. At least they were safe from that disaster as long as they were without fresh air.
CHAPTER XXXIII. — A WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE
There are few records of religious feeling on board the “Jersey, vulgarly called ‘Hell.’” No clergyman was ever known to set foot on board of her, although a city of churches was so near. The fear of contagion may have kept ministers of the gospel away. Visitors came, as we have seen, but not to soothe the sufferings of the prisoners, or to comfort those who were dying. It is said that a young doctor, named George Vandewater attended the sick, until he took a fatal disease and died. He was a resident of Brooklyn, and seems to have been actuated by motives of humanity, and therefore his name deserves a place in this record.
There are few accounts of religious feelings on the “Jersey, commonly known as ‘Hell.’” No clergyman was ever known to step foot on board, even though a city filled with churches was so close. The fear of contagion may have kept ministers away. Visitors came, as we’ve noted, but not to ease the suffering of the prisoners or to comfort those who were dying. It is said that a young doctor named George Vandewater cared for the sick until he caught a fatal disease and died. He lived in Brooklyn and seemed to be motivated by compassion, so his name deserves to be remembered in this account.
But although the rough seamen who left narratives of their experiences in that fearful place have told us little or nothing about the inner feelings of those poor sufferers, yet it must be presumed that many a silent prayer went up to the Judge and Father of all men, from the depths of that foul prison ship. There was one boy on board the Jersey, one at least, and we hope that there were many more, who trusted in God that He could deliver him, even “from the nethermost hell.”
But even though the tough sailors who shared stories of their experiences in that terrifying place have said little about the inner feelings of those unfortunate souls, it's likely that many silent prayers were sent up to the Judge and Father of all people from the depths of that awful prison ship. There was one boy on board the Jersey, at least, and we hope there were many more, who had faith in God that He could save him, even “from the nethermost hell.”
A large proportion of the prisoners were young men in their teens, who had been attracted by the mysterious fascination of the sea; many of them had run away from good homes, and had left sorrowing parents and friends to mourn their loss. The feelings of these young men, full of eager hopes, and as yet unsoured by too rough handling in their wrestle with the world, suddenly transferred to the deck of the Jersey, has been well described by Fox and other captives, whose adventures we have transcribed in these pages.
A large number of the prisoners were teenage boys, drawn in by the mysterious allure of the sea; many of them had run away from good homes, leaving behind heartbroken parents and friends to grieve their absence. The emotions of these young men, filled with hopeful dreams and not yet jaded by harsh realities in their struggle with the world, were suddenly placed on the deck of the Jersey, and this experience has been vividly described by Fox and other captives, whose stories we’ve shared in these pages.
We have now to tell the experience of a youth on the Jersey who lived to be a minister, and for many years was in charge of a church at Berkeley. This youth was sensitive, delicate, and far from strong. His faith in human nature received a shock, and his disposition was warped at the most receptive and formative period of his life, by the terrible scenes of suffering on the one hand, and relentless cruelty on the other, that he witnessed in that fatal place. He wrote, in his memoir many years after: “I have since found that the whole world is but one great prison-house of guilty, sorrowful, and dying men, who live in pride, envy, and malice, hateful, and hating one another.”
We need to share the story of a young man from Jersey who became a minister and spent many years leading a church in Berkeley. This young man was sensitive, fragile, and not very strong. His belief in human nature was shaken, and his character was distorted during the most impressionable and formative time of his life by the horrific suffering he saw on one side and the unyielding cruelty on the other in that dreadful place. He wrote in his memoir many years later: “I have since found that the whole world is but one great prison-house of guilty, sorrowful, and dying men, who live in pride, envy, and malice, hateful, and hating one another.”
This is one of the most terrible indictments of the human race that was ever written. Let us hope that it is not wholly true.
This is one of the most awful accusations against humanity that has ever been written. Let's hope that it's not completely true.
In 1833 the Rev. Thomas Andros published his recollections under the title, “The Old Jersey Captive.” We will give an abstract of them. He begins by saying: “I was but in my seventeenth year when the struggle commenced. In the summer of 1781 the ship Hannah, a very rich prize, was captured and brought into the port of New London. It infatuated great numbers of our young men who flocked on board our private armed ships in hopes of as great a prize. * * * I entered on board a new Brig called the ‘Fair American.’ She carried sixteen guns. * * * We were captured on the 27th of August, by the Solebay frigate, and safely stowed away in the Old Jersey prison ship at New York, an old, unsightly, rotten hulk.
In 1833, Rev. Thomas Andros published his memories under the title, “The Old Jersey Captive.” Here’s a summary of them. He starts by saying: “I was just seventeen when the struggle began. In the summer of 1781, the ship Hannah, a very valuable prize, was captured and taken into the port of New London. It captivated many of our young men who rushed aboard our private armed ships hoping for a similar prize. * * * I joined a new brig called the ‘Fair American.’ It was armed with sixteen guns. * * * We were captured on August 27th by the Solebay frigate and safely confined in the Old Jersey prison ship in New York, a dilapidated and unsightly hulk.”
“Her dark and filthy appearance perfectly corresponded with the death and despair that reigned within. She was moored three quarters of a mile to the eastward of Brooklyn ferry, near a tide-mill on the Long Island shore. The nearest distance to land was about twenty rods. No other British ship ever proved the means of the destruction of so many human beings.”
“Her dark and grimy look matched the death and despair that filled the air. She was anchored three-quarters of a mile east of the Brooklyn ferry, close to a tide mill on the Long Island shore. The nearest point to the land was about twenty rods away. No other British ship caused the deaths of so many people.”
Andros puts the number of men who perished on board the Jersey as 11,000, and continues: “After it was known that it was next to certain death to confine a prisoner here, the inhumanity and wickedness of doing it was about the same as if he had been taken into the city and deliberately shot on some public square. * * * Never did any Howard or angel of pity appear to inquire into or alleviate our woes. Once or twice a bag of apples was hurled into the midst of hundreds of prisoners, crowded together as thick as they could stand, and life and limbs were endangered by the scramble. This was a cruel sport. When I saw it about to commence I fled to the most distant part of the ship.”
Andros estimates that 11,000 men died on board the Jersey and adds, “Once it became clear that confining a prisoner here was virtually a death sentence, the cruelty and immorality of doing so were nearly the same as if he had been taken into the city and intentionally shot in a public square. * * * Never did any Howard or angel of mercy come to check on or ease our suffering. A bag of apples would occasionally be tossed into the crowd of hundreds of prisoners, packed together as tightly as possible, putting lives and limbs at risk during the scramble. This was a cruel game. When I saw it about to happen, I ran to the farthest part of the ship.”
At night, he says, the prisoners were driven down to darkness between decks, secured by iron gratings and an armed soldiery. He thus speaks of the tasks imposed upon the prisoners: “Around the well-room an armed guard were forcing up the prisoners to the winches to clear the ship of water, and prevent her sinking; and little could be heard but a roar of mutual execrations, reproaches and insults.
At night, he says, the prisoners were taken down into the dark spaces between the decks, locked in by iron bars and surrounded by armed guards. He describes the tasks forced upon the prisoners: “Around the well-room, an armed guard was forcing the prisoners to the winches to pump water out of the ship to prevent it from sinking; all that could be heard was a cacophony of curses, accusations, and insults.
“Sights of woe, regions of sorrow, doleful shades; Where peace and rest can never dwell
“Sights of suffering, places of sadness, gloomy shadows; Where peace and rest can never exist
“When I became an inmate of this abode of suffering, despair, and death, there were about 400 on board, but in a short time they were increased to 1,200.
“When I became a resident of this place of pain, hopelessness, and death, there were about 400 people on board, but soon after, that number rose to 1,200.”
“All the most deadly diseases were pressed into the service of the king of terrors, but his prime ministers were dysentery, small pox, and yellow fever. The healthy and the diseased were mingled together in the main ship.”
“All the deadliest diseases were rallied under the command of the king of terrors, but his top aides were dysentery, smallpox, and yellow fever. The healthy and the sick were mixed together in the main ship.”
He says that the two hospital ships were soon overcrowded, and that two hundred or more of the prisoners, who soon became sick in consequence of the want of room, were lodged in the fore-part of the lower gun-deck, where all the prisoners were confined at night.
He says that the two hospital ships quickly became overcrowded, and that two hundred or more of the prisoners, who soon got sick due to the lack of space, were accommodated in the front part of the lower gun deck, where all the prisoners were kept at night.
“Utter derangement was a common sympton of yellow fever, and to increase the horror of darkness which enshrouded us, for we were allowed no light, the voice of warning would be heard, ‘Take care! There’s a madman stalking through the ship with a knife in his hand!’”
“Complete madness was a common symptom of yellow fever, and to make the terror of the darkness around us even worse—since we were given no light—a voice of caution would call out, ‘Be careful! There's a crazy person wandering through the ship with a knife in hand!’”
Andros says that he sometimes found the man by whose side he had lain all night a corpse in the morning. There were many sick with raging fever, and their loud cries for water, which could only be obtained on the upper deck, mingled with the groans of the dying, and the execrations of the tormented sufferers. If they attempted to get water from the upper deck, the sentry would push them back with his bayonet. Andros, at one time, had a narrow escape with his life, from one of these bayonet thrusts.
Andros says that sometimes he found the man he had slept next to all night dead in the morning. Many were suffering from severe fever, and their desperate shouts for water, which was only available on the upper deck, mixed with the groans of the dying and the curses of those in pain. If they tried to get water from the upper deck, the guard would shove them back with his bayonet. At one point, Andros narrowly escaped death from one of those bayonet lunges.
“In the morning the hatches were thrown open and we were allowed to ascend. The first object we saw was a boat loaded with dead bodies conveying them to the Long Island shore, where they were very slightly covered with sand. * * * Let our disease be what it would we were abandoned to our fate. No English physician ever came near us.”
“In the morning, the hatches were opened, and we were allowed to go up. The first thing we saw was a boat filled with dead bodies being taken to the Long Island shore, where they were barely covered with sand. * * * No matter what our illness was, we were left to our own fate. No English doctor ever came to help us.”
Thirteen of the crew to which Andros belonged were on the Jersey. In a short time all but three or four were dead. The healthiest died first. They were seized vith yellow fever, which was an epidemic on the ship, and died in a few hours. Andros escaped contagion longer than any of his companions, with one exception. He says that the prisoners were furnished with buckets and brushes to cleanse the ship, and vinegar to sprinkle the floors, but that most of them had fallen into a condition of apathy and despair, and that they seldom exerted themselves to improve their condition.
Thirteen members of Andros's crew were on the Jersey. Before long, only three or four survived. The healthiest were the first to die. They contracted yellow fever, which was spreading through the ship, and died within a few hours. Andros managed to avoid getting sick longer than any of his fellow crew members, except for one. He mentioned that the prisoners were given buckets and brushes to clean the ship, as well as vinegar to sprinkle on the floors, but most of them had slipped into a state of apathy and hopelessness, and they rarely made an effort to improve their situation.
“The encouragement to do so was small. The whole ship was equally affected, and contained pestilence enough to desolate a world; disease and death were wrought into her very timbers. At the time I left it is to be supposed a more filthy, contagious, and deadly abode never existed among a Christianized people.
“The motivation to do so was minimal. The entire ship was equally impacted and held enough disease to devastate a world; illness and death were ingrained in her very structure. When I left, it’s fair to assume that a more filthy, contagious, and deadly place didn’t exist among a Christianized people.”
“The lower hold and the orlop deck were such a terror that no man would venture down into them. * * * Our water was good could we have had enough of it: the bread was superlatively bad. I do not recollect seeing any which was not full of living vermin, but eat it, worms and all, we must, or starve. * * * A secret, prejudicial to a prisoner, revealed to the guard, was death. Captain Young of Boston concealed himself in a large chest belonging to a sailor going to be exchanged, and was carried on board the cartel, and we considered his escape as certain, but the secret leaked out, and he was brought back and one Spicer of Providence being suspected as the traitor the enraged prisoners were about to cut his throat. The guard rushed down and rescued him.
“The lower hold and the orlop deck were so terrifying that no one would dare to go down there. * * * Our water was good if only we had enough of it; the bread was extremely bad. I don't remember seeing any that wasn't infested with live bugs, but we had to eat it, worms and all, or we would starve. * * * If a secret that could harm a prisoner got out to the guard, it meant death. Captain Young from Boston hid in a large chest belonging to a sailor who was about to be exchanged and was taken on board the cartel, and we thought his escape was guaranteed, but the secret got out, and he was brought back. One Spicer from Providence was suspected of being the traitor, and the furious prisoners were about to cut his throat. The guard rushed down and saved him.”
“I knew no one to be seduced into the British service. They tried to force one of our crew into the navy, but he chose rather to die than perform any duty, and he was again restored to the prison-ship.”
“I didn’t see anyone getting tricked into joining the British military. They tried to coerced one of our crew members into the navy, but he preferred to die than to fulfill any obligation, and he was sent back to the prison ship.”
Andros declares that there was no trace of religion exhibited on board the Jersey. He also says that the prisoners made a set of rules for themselves by which they regulated their conduct towards each other. No one was allowed to tyrannize over the weak, and morality was enforced by rules, and any infraction of these regulations was severely punished.
Andros states that there was no sign of religion present on the Jersey. He also mentions that the prisoners created a set of rules for themselves to manage their behavior towards one another. No one was permitted to bully the weak, and morality was upheld by rules, with strict punishments for any violations of these regulations.
He speaks of scenes of dreadful suffering which he witnessed:
He talks about scenes of terrible suffering that he saw:
“Which things, most worthy of pity, I myself saw, And of them was a part.”
“Of the things that are most deserving of sympathy, I witnessed them myself and was a part of it.”
“The prison ship is a blot which a thousand ages cannot eradicate from the name of Britian. * * * While on board almost every thought was occupied to invent some plan of escape. The time now came when I must be delivered from the ship or die. I was seized with yellow fever, and should certainly take the small-pox with it, and who does not know that I could not survive the operation of both of these diseases at once. * * * I assisted in nursing those who had the pox most violently.
“The prison ship is a stain that a thousand years can't erase from the name of Britain. * * * While I was on board, I spent almost every moment trying to come up with a plan to escape. The time had come when I had to be freed from the ship or die. I had contracted yellow fever, and I would definitely get smallpox along with it, and who doesn't know that I wouldn't survive the effects of both of these diseases at the same time? * * * I helped care for those who had the pox severely.”
“The arrival of a cartel and my being exchanged would but render my death the more sure.”
“The arrival of a cartel and my being traded would only make my death more certain.”
Yet he endeavored to promote his exchange by stepping up and giving in his name among the first, when a list of the prisoners was taken. Andros was not strong, and as he himself says, disease often seemed to pass over the weak and sickly, and to attack, with deadly result, the prisoners who were the healthiest and most vigorous.
Yet he tried to boost his exchange by stepping up and giving his name among the first when the list of prisoners was taken. Andros wasn't strong, and as he himself said, disease often seemed to skip the weak and sickly, only to strike the prisoners who were the healthiest and most vigorous with deadly effects.
“It was the policy of the English to return for sound and healthy men sent from our prisons, such Americans as had but just the breath of life in them, sure to die before they reached home. The guard would tell a man while in health, ‘You haven’t been here long enough, you are too well to be exchanged.’
“It was the policy of the English to send back healthy men from our prisons, while exchanging them for Americans who were barely alive, destined to die before they made it home. The guard would tell a man in good health, ‘You haven’t been here long enough; you’re too well to be exchanged.’”
“There was one more method of getting from the ship,” Andros continues, “and that was at night to steal down through a gun-port which we had managed to open unbeknown to the guard, and swim ashore.” This, he declared, was for him a forlorn hope. Already under the influence of yellow fever, and barely able to walk, he was, even when well, unable to swim ten rods. Discovery was almost certain, for the guards now kept vigilant watch to prevent any one escaping in this manner, and they shot all whom they detected in the act of escaping. Yet this poor young man trusted in God. He writes: “God, who had something more for me to do, undertook for me.” Mr. Emery, the sailing master, was going ashore for water. Andros stepped up to him and asked: “Mr. Emery, may I go on shore with you after water?”
“There was one more way to get off the ship,” Andros continues, “and that was to sneak down through a gun-port we had managed to open without the guard noticing, and swim to shore.” He admitted that this felt like a lost cause. Already suffering from yellow fever and barely able to walk, he could hardly swim even when he was healthy. Getting caught was almost guaranteed since the guards were now keeping a close watch to stop anyone from escaping like this, and they shot anyone they caught trying to flee. Still, this poor young man had faith in God. He wrote: “God, who had something more for me to do, took care of me.” Mr. Emery, the sailing master, was going ashore for water. Andros approached him and asked, “Mr. Emery, can I go ashore with you for water?”
No such favor had ever been granted a prisoner, and Andros scarcely knew what prompted him to prefer such a request. To his immense surprise, the sailing master, who must have had a heart after all, replied, “Yes, with all my heart.” He was evidently struck with compassion for the poor, apparently dying, young man.
No such favor had ever been given to a prisoner, and Andros hardly understood why he made such a request. To his great surprise, the sailing master, who must have had a heart after all, responded, “Yes, with all my heart.” He was clearly moved with compassion for the poor, seemingly dying, young man.
Andros, to the astonishment of his companions, immediately descended into the boat. Some of them asked: “What is that sick man going on shore for?”
Andros, to the surprise of his friends, immediately got into the boat. Some of them asked, “Why is that sick guy going ashore?”
The British sailors endeavored to dissuade him, thinking that he would probably die on the excursion.
The British sailors tried to talk him out of it, believing that he would likely die on the trip.
“‘So, to put them all to silence, I again ascended on board, for I had neglected to take my great-coat. But I put it on, and waited for the sailing-master. The boat was pushed off, I attempted to row, but an English sailor said, very kindly, ‘Give me the oar. You are too unwell.’ * * * I looked back to the black and unsightly old ship as to an object of the greatest horror. * * * We ascended the creek and arrived at the spring, and I proposed to the sailors to go in quest of apples.”
“‘To silence everyone, I climbed back on board because I had forgotten my coat. I put it on and waited for the captain. The boat was pushed off, and I tried to row, but a kind English sailor said, ‘Let me take the oar. You’re not feeling well.’ * * * I looked back at the old, grim ship with a sense of dread. * * * We moved up the creek and reached the spring, and I suggested to the sailors that we go look for apples.”
The sailing-master said to him, “This fresh air will be of service to you.” This emboldened him to ask leave to ascend a bank about thirty feet high, and to call at a house near the spring to ask for refreshment. “Go,” said Mr. Emery, “but take care not to be out of the way.” He replied that his state of health was such that nothing was to be feared from him on that account. He managed to get into a small orchard that belonged to the farmhouse. There he saw a sentinel, who was placed on guard over a pile of apples. He soon convinced himself that this man was indifferent to his movements, and, watching his opportunity, when the man’s back was turned, he slipped beyond the orchard, into a dense swamp, covered with a thick undergrowth of saplings and bushes. Here there was a huge prostrate log twenty feet in length, curtained with a dense tangle of green briar.
The sailing master said to him, “This fresh air will do you some good.” This gave him the confidence to ask for permission to climb a bank about thirty feet high and to stop at a house near the spring to request something to eat. “Go,” Mr. Emery replied, “but make sure you don’t wander off too far.” He answered that his health was such that there was no risk of that happening. He managed to find his way into a small orchard that belonged to the farmhouse. There, he spotted a guard, who was keeping watch over a pile of apples. He soon realized that the guard was indifferent to his movements and, seizing the moment when the man’s back was turned, he slipped out of the orchard and into a thick swamp, overgrown with a dense tangle of saplings and bushes. In this area, there was a huge fallen log, about twenty feet long, covered with a thick curtain of green briar.
“Lifting up this covering I crept in, close by the log, and rested comfortably, defended from the northeast storm which soon commenced.”
“Lifting up this covering, I crawled in next to the log and settled in comfortably, sheltered from the northeast storm that soon started.”
He heard the boat’s crew making inquiries for him but no one discovered his hiding-place. One of them declared that he was safe enough, and would never live to go a mile. In the middle of the night he left his hiding place, and fell into a road which he pursued some distance. When he heard approaching footsteps he would creep off the path, roll himself up into a ball to look like a bush, and remain perfectly still until the coast was clear. He now felt that a wonderful Providence was watching over him. His forethought in returning for his overcoat was the means of saving his life, as he would undoubtedly have perished from exposure without it. Next night he hid in a high stack of hay, suffering greatly. When the storm was over he left this hiding place, and entered a deep hollow in the woods near by, where he felt secure from observation. Here he took off his clothes and spread them in the sun to dry.
He heard the boat crew asking about him, but no one found his hiding spot. One of them said he was safe enough and wouldn't last a mile. In the middle of the night, he left his hiding place and followed a road for a while. When he heard footsteps approaching, he would step off the path, curl up into a ball to blend in with the bushes, and stay completely still until it was safe. He now felt that a great Providence was watching over him. His decision to go back for his overcoat saved his life, as he would have certainly frozen without it. The next night, he hid in a tall stack of hay, suffering a lot. When the storm passed, he left that hiding spot and found a deep hollow in the woods nearby, where he felt safe from being seen. Here, he took off his clothes and spread them out in the sun to dry.
Returning to the road he was proceeding on his way, when at a bend in the road, he came upon two light dragoons, evidently looking for him. What was he to do? His mind acted quickly, and, as they approached, he leisurely got over a fence into a small corn field, near a cottage by the way-side. Here he busied himself as if he were the owner of the cottage, going about the field; deliberately picking up ears of corn; righting up the cap sheaf of a stack of stalks, and examining each one. He had lost his hat, and had a handkerchief around his head, which helped to deceive the dragoons, who supposed that he had just come out of the cottage. They eyed him sharply, but passed on.
Returning to the road he was on, he continued his way when, at a curve in the road, he spotted two light dragoons clearly searching for him. What should he do? His mind raced, and as they approached, he casually climbed over a fence into a small cornfield near a cottage by the roadside. Here, he acted as if he were the owner of the cottage, moving around the field; deliberately picking up ears of corn, adjusting the cap sheaf of a stack of stalks, and inspecting each one. He had lost his hat and had a handkerchief wrapped around his head, which helped to mislead the dragoons, who assumed he had just come out of the cottage. They watched him closely but then moved on.
After this he dared not show himself, and wandered about, living on apples and water. He would lie concealed all day, in barns or hollows of the woods. At night he travelled as far as his weakened condition would allow He often found unfermented cider at the presses, for it was cider-making time.
After this, he didn't dare to show himself and roamed around, surviving on apples and water. He would hide all day in barns or secluded spots in the woods. At night, he traveled as far as his weakened state allowed. He often found fresh cider at the presses since it was cider-making season.
After several days of this wandering life he sought refuge in a barn, where he was found by a cross old man, who refused to do anything for him. He says that in the course of his wanderings he uniformly found women kind and helpful. They gave him food and kept his secret. One night, feeling utterly spent, he came to the poor dwelling of an old man and his wife, on the east side of Long Island. These good people assisted him by every means in their power, as if he were their own son. They took off his clothes, giving him another suit until they had baked all his garments in the oven to destroy the vermin which tormented him day and night. They insisted upon his occupying a clean bed. That night he slept sweetly, rid of the intolerable torture of being eaten up alive. He managed to reach Sag Harbor, where he found two other escaped prisoners. Soon he was smuggled to Connecticut in a whale-boat, and restored to his mother. It was late in October when he reached home. He was very ill and delirious for a long time, but finally recovered, taught school for some time, and finally became a minister of the gospel.
After several days of wandering, he took shelter in a barn, where he was discovered by a grumpy old man who refused to help him. He mentioned that throughout his journey, he consistently found women to be kind and supportive. They fed him and kept his secret. One night, completely exhausted, he arrived at the humble home of an elderly couple on the east side of Long Island. These kind-hearted people helped him in every way they could, treating him like their own son. They took off his clothes and gave him another outfit while they baked all his garments in the oven to get rid of the bugs that tormented him day and night. They insisted he sleep in a clean bed. That night, he slept peacefully, free from the unbearable pain of being bitten alive. He managed to reach Sag Harbor, where he found two other escaped prisoners. Soon, he was smuggled to Connecticut in a whaleboat and reunited with his mother. It was late October when he arrived home. He was very sick and delirious for a long time but eventually recovered, taught school for a while, and eventually became a minister.
CHAPTER XXXIV. — THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING
By far the most complete account of life on board the Old Jersey is contained in Captain Dring’s Recollections. His nature was hopeful, and his constitution strong and enduring. He attempted to make the best of his situation, and succeeded in leading as nearly a tolerable life on board the prison-ship as was possible. His book is too long for insertion in these pages, but we will endeavor to give the reader an abstract of it.
By far the most complete account of life on board the Old Jersey is contained in Captain Dring’s Recollections. He was naturally optimistic, and his body was strong and resilient. He tried to make the best of his circumstances and managed to lead as comfortable a life on the prison ship as possible. His book is too lengthy to include here, but we will strive to provide the reader with a summary of it.
This book was published in 1865, having been prepared for the press and annotated by Mr. Albert G. Greene, who speaks of Captain Dring as “a frank, outspoken, and honest seaman.” His original manuscript was first published in 1829.
This book was published in 1865, prepared for printing and annotated by Mr. Albert G. Greene, who describes Captain Dring as “a straightforward, candid, and honest sailor.” His original manuscript was first published in 1829.
Dring describes the prison ships as leaky old hulks, condemned as unfit for hospitals or store ships, but considered good enough for prisoners doomed to speedy annihilation. He says:
Dring describes the prison ships as old, leaky wrecks, deemed unfit for hospitals or supply ships, yet seen as good enough for prisoners facing quick destruction. He says:
“There is little doubt that the superior officers of the Royal Navy under whose exclusive jurisdiction were these ships, intended to insure, as far as possible, the good health of those who were confined on board of them; there is just as little doubt, however, that the inferior officers, under whose control those prisoners were more immediately placed, * * * too often frustrated the purposes of their superior officers, and too often disgraced humanity, by their wilful disregard of the policy of their Government, and of the orders of their superiors, by the uncalled-for severity of their treatment of those who were placed in their custody, and by their shameless malappropriation of the means of support which were placed in their hands for the sustenance of the prisoners.”
“There is no doubt that the senior officers of the Royal Navy, who had exclusive authority over these ships, aimed to ensure, as much as possible, the good health of those confined on board. However, there is just as little doubt that the junior officers, who had more direct control over the prisoners, too often undermined the intentions of their superiors and disrespected humanity by willfully ignoring the policies of their Government and the orders of their higher-ups. They frequently displayed unnecessary harshness towards those in their care and shamelessly misused the resources provided for the sustenance of the prisoners.”
However that may be, the superior officers must have known that the prison ships were unfit for human habitation; that they were fearfully overcrowded; and that the mortality on board of them was unprecedented in the annals of prison life.
However that may be, the higher-ups must have known that the prison ships were unfit for people to live in; that they were seriously overcrowded; and that the death rate on board was unprecedented in the history of prisons.
The introduction to Captain Drings’s recollections declares, what is well known, that General Washington possessed but limited authority; he was the Commander-in-Chief of the army, but had nothing to do with the American Navy, and still less with the crews of privateers, who made up a very large portion of the men on board the Jersey. Yet he did all he could, actuated, as he always was, by the purest motives of benevolence and humanity.
The introduction to Captain Drings’s memories states, as everyone knows, that General Washington had limited power; he was the Commander-in-Chief of the army, but he had no control over the American Navy, and even less over the crews of privateers, who made up a significant portion of the men on the Jersey. Still, he did everything he could, driven, as he always was, by the strongest motives of kindness and humanity.
“The authority to exchange naval prisoners,” to quote from this introduction, “was not invested in Washington, but in the Financier, and as the prisoners on the Jersey freely set forth in their petition, the former was comparatively helpless in the premises, although he earnestly desired to relieve them from their sufferings.
“The authority to exchange naval prisoners,” as mentioned in this introduction, “was not held by Washington, but by the Financier, and as the prisoners on the Jersey clearly stated in their petition, the former was relatively powerless in this situation, even though he genuinely wanted to alleviate their suffering.
“It will be seen from these circumstances that no blame could properly attach to General Washington, or the Continental Congress, or the Commissary of Prisoners; the blame belonged to those who were engaged in privateering, all of whom had been accustomed to release, without parole, the crews of the vessels which they captured, or enlist them on other privateers; in both cases removing the very means by which alone the release of their captive fellow seamen could be properly and safely effected.
“It’s clear from these circumstances that General Washington, the Continental Congress, and the Commissary of Prisoners shouldn’t be blamed; the responsibility lies with those involved in privateering, who commonly released the crews of captured vessels without parole or enlisted them on other privateers. In both situations, they took away the very means that could properly and safely ensure the release of their captured fellow seamen.”
“From the careful perusal of all the information we possess on this interesting subject, the reader will arise with the conviction that, by unwarrantable abuses of authority; and unprincipled disregard of the purposes of the British Government in some of its agents, great numbers of helpless American prisoners were wantonly plunged into the deepest distress; exposed to the most severe sufferings, and carried to unhonored graves. * * * Enough will remain uncontradicted by competent testimony to brand with everlasting infamy all who were immediately concerned in the business; and to bring a blush of shame on the cheek of every one who feels the least interest in the memory of any one who, no matter how remotely, was a party to so mean and yet so horrible an outrage. * * * The authors and abettors of the outrages to which reference has been made will stand convicted not only of the most heartless criminality against the laws of humanity and the laws of God, but of the most flagrant violation of the Laws of Nations, and the Law of the Land.”
“After carefully reviewing all the information we have on this intriguing subject, the reader will conclude that, due to outrageous abuses of power and a blatant disregard for the objectives of the British Government by some of its agents, many vulnerable American prisoners were cruelly thrown into deep distress, subjected to extreme suffering, and taken to dishonored graves. * * * Enough will remain unchallenged by credible evidence to brand with lasting shame all who were directly involved in this matter, and to bring a blush of embarrassment to anyone who cares even a little about the memory of anyone who, no matter how indirectly, was part of such a mean and yet horrific act. * * * The authors and supporters of the outrages mentioned will be found guilty not only of the most callous criminality against the laws of humanity and the laws of God but also of the most blatant violation of the Laws of Nations and the Law of the Land.”
These extracts are all taken from the Introduction to Captain Dring’s Recollections, written by Mr. H. B. Dawson, in June, 1865.
These excerpts are all from the Introduction to Captain Dring’s Recollections, written by Mr. H. B. Dawson, in June 1865.
Captain Dring was born in Newport, R. I., on the third of August, 1758. He died in August, 1825, in Providence, R. I., and was about 67 years of age at the time of his death. He was many years in the merchant service, and wrote his recollections in 1824.
Captain Dring was born in Newport, RI, on August 3, 1758. He passed away in August 1825 in Providence, RI, at around 67 years old. He spent many years in the merchant service and wrote his memories in 1824.
“I was first confined on the Good Hope, in the year 1779, then lying in the North River opposite the city of New York, but after a confinement of more than four months, I succeeded in making my escape to the Jersey shore.”
“I was first held on the Good Hope, in the year 1779, which was docked in the North River across from the city of New York. After being confined for more than four months, I managed to escape to the Jersey shore.”
Captain Dring is said to have been one of the party who escaped from the Good Hope in October, 1779. The New Jersey papers thus described the escape.
Captain Dring is said to have been one of the group that escaped from the Good Hope in October 1779. The New Jersey papers described the escape like this.
“Chatham, N. J. Last Wednesday morning about one o’clock made their escape from the Good Hope prison ship in the North River, nine Captains and two privates. Among the number was Captain James Prince, who has been confined four months, and having no prospect of being exchanged, concerted a plan in conjunction with the other gentlemen to make their escape, which they effected in the following manner: They confined the Mate, disarmed the sentinels, and hoisted out the boat which was on deck; they brought off nine stands of arms, one pair of pistols, and a sufficient quantity of ammunition, being determined not to be taken alive. They had scarce got clear of the ship before the alarm was given, when they were fired on by three different ships, but fortunately no person was hurt. Captain Prince speaks in the highest terms of Captain Charles Nelson, who commanded the prison-ship, using the prisoners with a great deal of humanity, particularly himself.
“Chatham, N. J. Last Wednesday morning around one o’clock, nine captains and two privates escaped from the Good Hope prison ship in the North River. Among them was Captain James Prince, who had been confined for four months and, seeing no chance of being exchanged, devised a plan with the others to break free. They executed their escape as follows: they detained the mate, disarmed the guards, and lowered the boat that was on deck; they managed to take nine stands of arms, one pair of pistols, and enough ammunition, making it clear they were determined not to be captured alive. They had barely gotten away from the ship when the alarm was raised, and they were fired upon by three different ships, but fortunately, no one was injured. Captain Prince speaks very highly of Captain Charles Nelson, who commanded the prison ship, noting that he treated the prisoners with a great deal of humanity, especially towards him.”
“I was again captured in 1782,” Dring continues, “and conveyed on board the Jersey, where * * * I was a witness and partaker of the unspeakable sufferings of that wretched class of American prisoners who were there taught the utmost extreme of human misery. I am now far advanced in years, and am the only survivor, with the exception of two, of a crew of 65 men. I often pass the descendant of one of my old companions in captivity, and the recollection comes fresh to my mind that his father was my comrade and fellow sufferer in prison; that I saw him breathe his last upon the deck of the Jersey, and assisted at his interment at the Waleboght; * * *
“I was captured again in 1782,” Dring continues, “and taken aboard the Jersey, where * * * I witnessed and experienced the unimaginable suffering of those unfortunate American prisoners who were subjected to the worst extremes of human misery. Now that I’m much older, I am the only survivor, along with two others, from a crew of 65 men. I often come across the descendant of one of my old fellow captives, and it reminds me clearly that his father was my comrade and shared in the suffering with me in prison; that I saw him take his last breath on the deck of the Jersey, and I helped with his burial at Waleboght; * * *
“In May, 1782, I sailed from Providence, R. I., as Master’s-mate, on board a privateer called the Chance, commanded by Captain Daniel Aborn, mounting 12 six-pound cannon, and having a crew of 65 men.”
“In May 1782, I set sail from Providence, R. I., as the Master's mate on a privateer named the Chance, commanded by Captain Daniel Aborn. The ship was armed with 12 six-pound cannons and had a crew of 65 men.”
This vessel was captured in a few days by the Belisarius, of 26 guns, commanded by Captain Graves. The prisoners were brought to New York and the Belisarius dropped her anchor abreast of the city. A large gondola soon came alongside, in which was seated David Sproat, the much-hated British Commissary of Naval Prisoners. He was an American refugee, universally detested for the insolence of his manners, and the cruelty of his conduct. The prisoners were ordered into the boats, and told to apply themselves to the oars, but declined to exert themselves in that manner, whereupon he scowled at them and remarked, “I’ll soon fix you, my lads!”
This ship was captured in just a few days by the Belisarius, which had 26 guns and was commanded by Captain Graves. The prisoners were taken to New York, and the Belisarius anchored right off the city. A large gondola soon pulled up alongside, carrying David Sproat, the much-despised British Commissary of Naval Prisoners. He was an American refugee, widely hated for his arrogance and cruelty. The prisoners were ordered into the boats and told to start rowing, but they refused to do so. He glared at them and said, “I’ll fix you guys soon enough!”
David Sproat found America too hot for him after the war and died at Kirkcudbright, Scotland, in 1799.
David Sproat found America too hot for him after the war and died in Kirkcudbright, Scotland, in 1799.
Dring says: “My station in the boat as we hauled alongside, was exactly opposite one of the air-ports in the side of the ship. From this aperture proceeded a strong current of foul vapor of a kind to which I had been before accustomed while confined on board the Good Hope, the peculiar disgusting smell of which I then recollected, after a lapse of three years. This was, however, far more foul and loathsome than anything which I had ever met with on board that ship, and it produced a sensation of nausea far beyond my powers of description.
Dring says: “My spot in the boat as we pulled alongside was directly across from one of the air vents in the side of the ship. From this opening came a strong flow of foul-smelling air, unlike anything I had encountered before while stuck on the Good Hope, the unpleasant odor of which I remembered even after three years. However, this smell was much worse and more disgusting than anything I had ever experienced on that ship, and it made me feel nauseous in a way I can't fully explain.
“Here, while waiting for orders to ascend on board, we were addressed by some of the prisoners from the air-ports * * * after some questions whence we came, and respecting the manner of our capture, one of the prisoners said that it was a lamentable thing to see so many young men in the prime of health and vigor condemned to a living grave.” He went on to say that Death passed over such human skeletons as himself as unworthy of his powers, but that he delighted in making the strong, the youthful, and the vigorous, his prey.
“Here, while waiting for orders to board, we were approached by some of the prisoners from the air-ports * * * After a few questions about where we came from and how we were captured, one of the prisoners said it was a tragic sight to see so many young men in their prime, full of health and energy, trapped in a living grave.” He continued that Death overlooked frail figures like himself as unworthy of his attention, but took pleasure in claiming the strong, the young, and the vigorous as his victims.
After the prisoners had been made to descend the hatchways, these were then fastened down for the night. Dring says it was impossible for him to find one of his companions in the darkness.
After the prisoners were forced to go down the hatchways, those were then sealed for the night. Dring says it was impossible for him to locate any of his companions in the dark.
“Surrounded by I knew not whom, except that they were beings as wretched as myself; with dismal sounds meeting my ears from every direction; a nauseous and putrid atmosphere filling my lungs at every breath; and a stifling and suffocating heat which almost deprived me of sense, even of life. Previous to leaving the boat I had put on several articles of clothing, for the purpose of security, but I was soon compelled to disencumber myself of these. * * * Thoughts of sleep did not enter into my mind.”
“Surrounded by I didn’t know who, except that they were as miserable as I was; with gloomy noises reaching my ears from every direction; a sickening and rotten smell filling my lungs with every breath; and a stifling, suffocating heat that nearly made me lose my senses, even my life. Before leaving the boat, I had put on several layers of clothing for safety, but I quickly had to take them off. * * * The thought of sleep didn’t even cross my mind.”
He discovered a gleam of light from one of the port-holes and keeping hold of his bag endeavored to make his way to it, but was greeted by curses and imprecations from those who were lying on the deck, and whom he disturbed. At length he arrived at the desired spot, but found it occupied. In the morning he saw himself surrounded by a crowd of forms, with the hues of death and famine upon their faces. At eight o’clock they were permitted to ascend on deck, and he found some of his friends.
He saw a flicker of light coming from one of the port-holes and, holding onto his bag, tried to get to it, but was met with curses and insults from those lounging on the deck, whom he disturbed. Finally, he reached the spot he wanted, but it was already occupied. In the morning, he found himself surrounded by a crowd of people, their faces showing signs of death and starvation. At eight o’clock, they were allowed to go up on deck, and he found some of his friends.
“Pale and meagre, the throng came on deck, to view for a few moments the morning sun, and then to descend again, to pass another day of misery and wretchedness. I found myself surrounded by a motley crew of wretches, with tattered garments and pallid visages. * * * Among them I saw one ruddy and heathful countenance, and recognized the features of one of my late companions on the Belisarius. But how different did he appear from the group around him * * * men who, now shrunken and decayed, had but a short time before been as strong, as healthful, and as vigorous as himself. * * * During the night I had, in addition to my other sufferings, been tormented with what I supposed to be vermin, and on coming upon deck, I found that a black silk handkerchief, which I wore around my neck, was completely spotted with them. Although this had often been mentioned as one of the nuisances of the place, yet as I had never before been in a situation to witness anything of the kind, the sight made me shudder, as I knew at once that as long as I should remain on board, these loathsome creatures would be my constant companions and unceasing tormentors.
“Pale and thin, the crowd came on deck to catch a glimpse of the morning sun for a few moments before heading back down to spend another day of misery and suffering. I found myself surrounded by a mismatched group of unfortunate souls, dressed in ragged clothes and with pale faces. * * * Among them, I spotted one rosy and healthy face and recognized a former companion from the Belisarius. But he looked so different from the others around him * * * men who, now weak and worn, had just a little while ago been as strong, healthy, and vigorous as he was. * * * During the night, I had endured various torments, including what I thought were insects, and when I came on deck, I discovered that a black silk handkerchief I wore around my neck was completely covered in them. Although this had often been mentioned as one of the annoyances of the place, since I had never experienced anything like it before, the sight made me shudder, as I realized that as long as I stayed on board, these disgusting creatures would be my constant companions and relentless tormentors.”
“The next disgusting object which met my sight was a man suffering from small-pox, and in a few minutes I found myself surrounded by many others laboring under the same disease in every stage of its progress.”
“The next horrifying sight I encountered was a man suffering from smallpox, and within minutes, I found myself surrounded by many others battling the same disease at various stages of its progression.”
Dring was obliged to inoculate himself, as that was thought to be the safest way of taking the disease. He borrowed some virus from a sufferer, and scarified the skin of his hand with a pin. He then bound up his hand. Next morning he found that it had festered. He took the disease lightly, and soon recovered, while a very large proportion of those who contracted smallpox in the natural manner died of it.
Dring had to inoculate himself because it was considered the safest way to catch the disease. He borrowed some virus from a person suffering from it and pricked his hand with a pin. Then, he covered his hand with a bandage. The next morning, he noticed that it had become infected. He took the disease in stride and quickly recovered, while a significant number of people who got smallpox the natural way died from it.
All the prisoners from the Belisarius were obliged to fast for twenty-four hours. Dring had some ship biscuit with him, in his bag. These he distributed to his companions. They then formed themselves into messes of six each, and next morning drew their scanty pittance of food.
All the prisoners from the Belisarius had to fast for twenty-four hours. Dring had some ship biscuits in his bag. He shared them with his companions. They then grouped themselves into teams of six and the next morning received their meager portion of food.
We have said that Dring and the other officers on board solved the problem of living with comparative comfort on board the Jersey. As they were officers, the gun-room was given up to their use, and they were not so terribly crowded as the common sailors. Also the officers had money to supply many of their wants, but all this will appear in the course of the narrative.
We mentioned that Dring and the other officers on board managed to live with comparative comfort on the Jersey. Since they were officers, the gun-room was available for their use, and they weren't as cramped as the enlisted sailors. Additionally, the officers had money to meet many of their needs, but all this will become clear as the story unfolds.
He says that, even on the second day of their confinement, they could not obtain their allowance of food in time to cook it. No distinction of rank was made by the jailors on the Jersey, but the prisoners themselves agreed to allow the officers to occupy the extreme afterpart of the ship, between decks, called the gun-room. Dring soon became an inmate of this place, in company with the other officers who were already in possession, and these tendered him all the little services in their power.
He says that, even on the second day of their confinement, they couldn't get their food allocation in time to cook it. The jailers on the Jersey didn't make any distinctions of rank, but the prisoners agreed to let the officers use the far back part of the ship, between decks, known as the gun-room. Dring soon became a resident of this area, alongside the other officers who were already there, and they offered him all the small favors they could.
The different messes were all numbered. At nine o’clock the steward and his assistants would take their places at the window in the bulk head in the steward’s room, and ring a bell. A man from each mess stood ready to be in time to answer when his number was called. The rations were all prepared ready for delivery. They were on two-thirds allowance. This is the full allowance for a British seaman:
The various messes were all numbered. At nine o'clock, the steward and his assistants would position themselves at the window in the bulkhead of the steward's room and ring a bell. A representative from each mess stood by, ready to respond when his number was called. The rations were all prepared for distribution. They were at two-thirds allowance. This is the full allowance for a British seaman:
Sunday—1 lb. biscuit, 1 lb. pork, and half a pint of peas. Monday—1 lb. biscuit, 1 pint oatmeal, 2 oz. butter. Tuesday-1 lb. biscuit, and 2 lbs. beef. Wednesday—1-1/2 lbs. flour, and 2 ounces suet. Thursday—Same as Sunday. Friday—Same as Monday. Saturday—Same as Tuesday.
Sunday—1 lb. biscuits, 1 lb. pork, and half a pint of peas. Monday—1 lb. biscuits, 1 pint oatmeal, 2 oz. butter. Tuesday—1 lb. biscuits, and 2 lbs. beef. Wednesday—1.5 lbs. flour, and 2 oz. suet. Thursday—Same as Sunday. Friday—Same as Monday. Saturday—Same as Tuesday.
Two thirds of this allowance for each man would have been sufficient to sustain life, had it been of moderately good quality. They never received butter, but a rancid and ill-smelling substance called sweet oil. “The smell of it, accustomed as we were to everything foul and nauseous, was more than we could endure. We, however, always received it, and gave it to the poor, half-starved Frenchmen who were on board, who took it gratefully, and swallowed it with a little salt and their wormy bread.”
Two-thirds of this allowance for each man would have been enough to keep him alive, if it had been of decent quality. They never got butter, just a rancid and foul-smelling substance called sweet oil. “The smell of it, as used to disgusting things as we were, was more than we could handle. Still, we always received it and gave it to the poor, half-starved Frenchmen on board, who accepted it gratefully and ate it with a little salt and their wormy bread.”
Oil had been dealt out to the prisoners on the Good Hope, but there it was hoarded carefully, for they were allowed lights until nine P.M., so they used it in their lamps. But on the Jersey, Dring declares that neither light nor fire was ever allowed.
Oil was distributed to the prisoners on the Good Hope, but they stored it carefully since they were allowed lights until 9 PM, so they used it in their lamps. However, on the Jersey, Dring states that neither light nor fire was ever permitted.
Often their provisions were not dealt out in time to be cooked that day, and then they had to fast or eat them raw. The cooking was done in the “Great Copper” under the forecastle. This was a boiler enclosed in brick-work about eight feet square. It was large enough to contain two or three hogsheads of water. It was square, and divided into two portions. In one side peas and oatmeal were boiled in fresh water. On the other side the meat was boiled in salt water, and as we have already stated the food was poisoned by copperas. This was the cause, it is believed, of many deaths, especially as the water was obtained from alongside the ship, and was extremely unwholesome.
Often, their supplies weren't distributed in time to be cooked that day, so they had to either go without food or eat it raw. The cooking took place in the "Great Copper" under the forecastle. This was a large boiler enclosed in brick, about eight feet square, capable of holding two or three hogsheads of water. It was square and divided into two sections. On one side, peas and oatmeal were cooked in fresh water. On the other side, meat was boiled in salt water, and as we’ve already mentioned, the food was contaminated with copperas. This is believed to have caused many deaths, especially since the water was sourced from alongside the ship and was highly unclean.
The portion of each mess was designated by a tally fastened to it by a string. Hundreds of tallies were to be seen hanging over the sides of the brick-work by their strings, each eagerly watched by some member of the mess, who waited to receive it.
The portion of each meal was marked by a tag attached to it by a string. Hundreds of tags were hanging over the sides of the brickwork by their strings, each eagerly watched by a member of the group, who was waiting to receive it.
The meat was suffered to remain in the boiler a certain time, then the cook’s bell was rung, and the pittance of food must be immediately removed, whether sufficiently cooked or not. The proportion of peas and oatmeal belonging to each mess was measured out of the copper after it was boiled.
The meat was allowed to stay in the boiler for a while, then the cook's bell was rung, and the small amount of food had to be taken out immediately, regardless of whether it was cooked properly or not. The amounts of peas and oatmeal for each group were measured out of the pot after they were boiled.
The cook alone seemed to have much flesh on his bones. He had been a prisoner, but seeing no prospect of ever being liberated he had offered his services, and his mates and scullions were also prisoners who had followed his example. The cook was not ill-natured, and although often cursed by the prisoners when out of hearing, he really displayed fortitude and forbearance far beyond what most men would have been capable of showing. “At times, when his patience was exhausted, he did, indeed, make the hot water fly among us, but a reconciliation was usually effected with little difficulty.
The cook was the only one who seemed to have some meat on his bones. He had been a prisoner, but seeing no chance of ever getting out, he offered his services, and his fellow prisoners and helpers followed his lead. The cook wasn't mean-spirited, and even though he was often cursed by the prisoners when he couldn't hear, he showed a level of strength and patience that was way beyond what most people could handle. "Sometimes, when he ran out of patience, he really let the hot water fly among us, but they usually worked things out without too much trouble."
“Many of the different messes had obtained leave from His Majesty the Cook to prepare their own rations, separate from the general mess in the great boiler. For this purpose a great many spikes and hooks had been driven into the brick-work by which the boiler was enclosed, on which to suspend their tin kettles. As soon as we were permitted to go on deck in the morning, some one took the tin kettle belonging to the mess, with as much water and as many splinters of wood as we had been able to procure during the previous day, and carried them to the Galley; and there having suspended his kettle on one of the hooks or spikes stood ready to kindle his little fire as soon as the Cook or his mates would permit. It required but little fire to boil our food in these kettles, for their bottoms were made concave, and the fire was applied directly in the centre, and let the remaining brands be ever so small they were all carefully quenched; and having been conveyed below were kept for use on a future occasion.
“Many of the different messes had gotten permission from His Majesty the Cook to prepare their own meals, separate from the general mess in the big boiler. For this, a lot of spikes and hooks had been driven into the brickwork surrounding the boiler to hang their tin kettles. As soon as we were allowed to go on deck in the morning, someone would take the tin kettle belonging to the mess, along with as much water and as many wood splinters as we could gather the day before, and carry them to the Galley. There, after hanging the kettle on one of the hooks or spikes, they would be ready to start their little fire as soon as the Cook or his assistants allowed it. It took very little fire to boil our food in these kettles because their bottoms were shaped concave, and the fire was placed directly in the center. No matter how small the remaining pieces of wood were, they were all carefully put out; then, after being brought below, they were saved for future use.”
“Much contention often arose through our endeavors to obtain places around the brick-work, but these disputes were always promptly decided by the Cook, from whose mandate there was no appeal. No sooner had one prisoner completed the cooking for his mess, than another supplicant stood ready to take his place; and they thus continued to throng the galley, during the whole time that the fire was allowed to remain under the Great Copper, unless it happened to be the pleasure of the Cook to drive them away. *[...] Each man in the mess procured and saved as much water as possible during the previous day; as no person was ever allowed to take more than a pint at a time from the scuttle-cask in which it was kept. Every individual was therefor obliged each day to save a little for the common use of the mess on the next morning. By this arrangement the mess to which I belonged had always a small quantity of fresh water in store, which we carefully kept, with a few other necessaries, in a chest which we used in common.
“Many arguments often came up while trying to get spots around the cooking area, but these disputes were always quickly resolved by the Cook, and there was no questioning his decision. As soon as one prisoner finished cooking for his group, another eager person was ready to take his spot; and they kept crowding the galley for as long as the fire was allowed to stay under the Great Copper, unless the Cook decided to send them away. *[...] Each member of the group gathered and saved as much water as possible the day before, since no one was ever allowed to take more than a pint at a time from the water barrel it was stored in. Each person had to save a little each day for the shared use of the group the next morning. Because of this arrangement, the group I was part of always had a small amount of fresh water saved, which we carefully stored along with a few other essentials in a chest that we used together.
“During the whole period of my confinement I never partook of any food which had been prepared in the Great Copper. It is to this fact that I have always attributed, under Divine Providence, the degree of health which I preserved on board. I was thereby also, at times, enabled to procure several necessary and comfortable things, such as tea, sugar, etc. so that, wretchedly as I was situated, my condition was far preferable to that of most of my fellow sufferers, which has ever been to me a theme of sincere and lasting gratitude to Heaven.
“During my entire time in confinement, I never ate any food that was prepared in the Great Copper. I've always credited that, under Divine Providence, for the level of health I maintained on board. Because of this, I was sometimes able to obtain several essential and comforting items, like tea, sugar, and so on. So, even though I was in a miserable situation, my condition was much better than that of most of my fellow sufferers, which has always filled me with genuine and enduring gratitude to Heaven.”
“But terrible indeed was the condition of most of my fellow captives. Memory still brings before me those emaciated beings, moving from the Galley with their wretched pittance of meat; each creeping to the spot where his mess was assembled, to divide it with a group of haggard and sickly creatures, their garments hanging in tatters round their meagre limbs, and the hue of death upon their careworn faces. By these it was consumed with the scanty remnants of bread, which was often mouldy and filled with worms. And even from this vile fare they would rise up in torments from the cravings of unsatisfied hunger and thirst.
“But it was truly terrible to see the condition of most of my fellow captives. Memory still brings to mind those gaunt individuals moving from the galley with their meager portion of meat; each one creeping to the place where their meal was gathered, to share it with a group of worn-out and frail beings, their clothes hanging in rags around their thin limbs, and the look of death on their tired faces. They consumed it with the scant remains of bread, which was often moldy and full of worms. Even from this disgusting food, they would get up in agony from the pains of unfulfilled hunger and thirst.”
“No vegetables of any description were ever afforded us by our inhuman keepers. Good Heaven! what a luxury to us would then have been even a few potatoes!—if but the very leavings of swine. * * *
“No vegetables of any kind were ever given to us by our cruel keepers. Good heavens! What a luxury it would have been to have even a few potatoes!—even if they were just the scraps meant for pigs. * * *
“Oh my heart sinks, my pitying eyes o’erflow, When memory paints the picture of their woe Where my poor countrymen in bondage wait The slow enfranchisement of lingering fate, Greeting with groans the unwelcome night’s return, While rage and shame their gloomy bosoms burn, And chiding, every hour, the slow-paced sun, Endure their woes till all his race was run No one to mark the sufferers with a tear No friend to comfort, and no hope to cheer, And like the dull, unpitied brutes repair To stalls as wretched, and as coarse a fare; Thank Heaven one day of misery was o’er, And sink to sleep, and wish to wake no more.”
“Oh, my heart sinks, and my sympathetic eyes overflow, When memories show me the picture of their suffering Where my poor countrymen wait in chains For the slow liberation that fate drags out, Groaning as they greet the unwelcome night’s return, While rage and shame burn in their heavy hearts, Rebuking the sluggish sun for taking its time, Enduring their pain until his journey is complete. No one to shed a tear for the suffering, No friend to comfort them, and no hope to uplift, And like dull, unfeeling animals, they return To stalls as miserable, and as poor a meal; Thank Heaven one day of suffering has passed, They sink to sleep, wishing they wouldn’t wake up again.”
CHAPTER XXXV. — THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING (CONTINUED)
“The quarter-deck of the Jersey covered about one-fourth of the upper deck, and the forecastle extended from the stern, about one-eighth part of the length of the upper deck. Sentinels were stationed on the gangways on each side of the upper deck, leading from the quarter-deck to the forecastle. These gangways were about five feet wide; and here the prisoners were allowed to pass and repass. The intermediate space from the bulkhead of the quarter-deck to the forecastle was filled with long spars and booms, and called the spar-deck. The temporary covering afforded by the spar-deck was of the greatest benefit to the prisoners, as it served to shield us from the rain and the scorching rays of the sun. It was here, therefore, that our movables were placed when we were engaged in cleaning the lower decks. The spar-deck was also the only place where we were allowed to walk, and was crowded through the day by the prisoners on deck. Owing to the great number of prisoners, and the small space allowed us by the spar-deck, it was our custom to walk in platoons, each facing the same way, and turning at the same time. The Derrick for taking in wood, water, etc., stood on the starboard side of the spar-deck. On the larboard side of the ship was placed the accommodation ladder, leading from the gangway to the water. At the head of the ladder a sentinel was also stationed.
The quarter-deck of the Jersey covered about a quarter of the upper deck, and the forecastle extended from the stern, making up about one-eighth of the upper deck's length. Sentinels were posted on the gangways on each side of the upper deck, connecting the quarter-deck to the forecastle. These gangways were about five feet wide, and this is where the prisoners were allowed to move back and forth. The space between the bulkhead of the quarter-deck and the forecastle was filled with long spars and booms, and it was called the spar-deck. The temporary covering provided by the spar-deck was really helpful for the prisoners, as it protected us from rain and the intense heat of the sun. So, when we were busy cleaning the lower decks, our belongings were placed there. The spar-deck was also the only area where we were allowed to walk, and it was crowded all day with inmates on deck. Due to the large number of prisoners and the limited space on the spar-deck, we usually walked in groups, all facing the same way and turning at the same time. The derrick for taking in wood, water, and so on was situated on the starboard side of the spar-deck. On the port side of the ship, there was an accommodation ladder leading from the gangway to the water, with a sentinel stationed at the top of the ladder.
“The head of the accommodation ladder was near the door of the barricade, which extended across the front of the quarter-deck, and projected a few feet beyond the sides of the ship. The barricade was about ten feet high, and was pierced with loop-holes for musketry in order that the prisoners might be fired on from behind it, if occasion should require.
“The top of the accommodation ladder was close to the barricade door, which stretched across the front of the quarter-deck and stuck out a few feet beyond the sides of the ship. The barricade was around ten feet tall and had openings for guns so that the prisoners could be shot at from behind it if necessary.
“The regular crew of the ship consisted of a Captain, two Mates, a Steward, a Corporal, and about 12 sailors. The crew of the ship had no communication whatever with the prisoners. No person was ever permitted to pass through the barricade door, except when it was required that the messes should be examined and regulated, in which case each man had to pass through, and go between decks, and there remain until the examination was completed. None of the guard or of the ship’s crew ever came among the prisoners while I was on board. I never saw one of her officers or men except when there were passengers going in the boat, to or from the stern-ladder.
“The regular crew of the ship included a Captain, two Mates, a Steward, a Corporal, and about 12 sailors. The ship's crew had no communication at all with the prisoners. No one was allowed to pass through the barricade door, except when the messes needed to be checked and organized, in which case each person had to go through and stay between decks until the inspection was done. None of the guards or the ship’s crew ever interacted with the prisoners while I was on board. I never saw any of the officers or crew members except when there were passengers going to or from the stern-ladder.”
“On the two decks below, where we were confined at night, our chests, boxes, and bags were arranged in two lines along the decks, about ten feet distant from the sides of the ship; thus leaving as wide a space unencumbered in the middle of each deck, fore and aft, as our crowded situation would admit. Between these tiers of chests, etc., and the sides of the ship, was the place where the different messes assembled; and some of the messes were also separated from their neighbors by a temporary partition of chests, etc. Some individuals of the different messes usually slept on the chests, in order to preserve their contents from being plundered in the night.
“On the two lower decks, where we were stuck at night, our chests, boxes, and bags were lined up in two rows about ten feet away from the ship's sides; this created as much open space in the middle of each deck, both front and back, as our cramped conditions allowed. Between these rows of chests and the ship's sides was where the different groups gathered; some of the groups were also separated from each other by temporary walls made of chests and other items. Some people from the various groups often slept on the chests to keep their belongings safe from being stolen at night.”
“At night the spaces in the middle of the decks were much encumbered with hammocks, but these were always removed in the morning. * * * My usual place of abode being in the Gunroom, I was never under the necessity of descending to the lower dungeon; and during my confinement I had no disposition to visit it. It was inhabited by the most wretched in appearance of all our miserable company. From the disgusting and squalid appearance of the groups which I saw ascending the stairs which led to it, it must have been more dismal, if possible, than that part of the hulk where I resided. Its occupants appeared to be mostly foreigners, who had seen and survived every variety of human suffering. The faces of many of them were covered with dirt and filth; their long hair and beards matted and foul; clothed in rags, and with scarcely a sufficient supply of these to cover their disgusting bodies. Many among them possessed no clothing except the remnant of those garments which they wore when first brought on board; and were unable to procure even any material for patching these together, when they had been worn to tatters by constant use. * * * Some, and indeed many of them, had not the means of procuring a razor, or an ounce of soap.
“At night, the spaces in the middle of the decks were crowded with hammocks, but these were always taken down in the morning. * * * Since I usually stayed in the Gunroom, I never had to go down to the lower dungeon; and during my time there, I had no desire to visit it. It was home to the most miserable-looking members of our unfortunate group. From the disgusting and filthy sight of the people I saw climbing the stairs to it, it must have been even more bleak than the area of the hulk where I stayed. Most of its inhabitants seemed to be foreigners who had experienced all sorts of human suffering. Many of their faces were covered in dirt; their long hair and beards were tangled and dirty; they were dressed in rags, with barely enough to cover their filthy bodies. Many among them had no clothing except for the remnants of what they wore when they were first brought on board, and they couldn't even find material to patch them up when they wore out completely. * * * Some, indeed many of them, had no way to get a razor or even a little soap."
“Their beards were occasionally reduced by each other with a pair of shears or scissors. * * * Their skins were discoloured by continual washing in salt water, added to the circumstance that it was impossible for them to wash their linen in any other manner than by laying it on the deck and stamping on it with their feet, after it had been immersed in salt water, their bodies remaining naked during the process.
Their beards were sometimes trimmed by each other with a pair of shears or scissors. * * * Their skin was discolored from constantly washing in salt water, plus the fact that they could only wash their clothes by laying them on the deck and stamping on them with their feet after soaking them in salt water, while remaining naked during the process.
“To men in this situation everything like ordinary cleanliness was impossible. Much that was disgusting in their appearance undoubtedly originated from neglect, which long confinement had rendered habitual, until it created a confirmed indifference to personal appearance.
“To men in this situation, anything resembling ordinary cleanliness was impossible. A lot of what was disgusting about their appearance definitely came from neglect, which long confinement had made habitual, until it fostered a settled indifference to personal appearance.”
“As soon as the gratings had been fastened over the hatchways for the night, we usually went to our sleeping places. It was, of course, always desirable to obtain a station as near as possible to the side of the ship, and, if practicable, in the immediate vicinity of one of the air-ports, as this not only afforded us a better air, but also rendered us less liable to be trodden upon by those who were moving about the decks during the night.
“As soon as the grates were secured over the hatchways for the night, we usually headed to our sleeping spots. It was always preferable to find a place as close to the side of the ship as possible, and, if we could, near one of the air-ports. This not only gave us better ventilation but also reduced the chances of being stepped on by those walking around the decks at night.”
“But silence was a stranger to our dark abode. There were continual noises during the night. The groans of the sick and the dying; the curses poured out by the weary and exhausted upon our inhuman keepers; the restlessness caused by the suffocating heat, and the confined and poisonous air, mingled with the wild and incoherent ravings of delirium, were the sounds which every night were raised around us in every direction. Such was our ordinary situation, but at times the consequences of our crowded condition were still more terrible, and proved fatal to many of our number in a single night.
“But silence was foreign to our dark home. There were constant noises during the night. The groans of the sick and dying, the curses shouted by the weary and exhausted at our inhumane captors, the restlessness caused by the suffocating heat and the stale, toxic air, mixed with the wild and disjointed ramblings of delirium, created the sounds that filled the space around us every night. This was our typical situation, but sometimes the results of our overcrowded conditions were even more horrifying and led to the deaths of many of us in just one night.”
“But, strange as it may appear, notwithstanding all the * * * suffering which was there endured I knew many who had been inmates of that abode for two years, who were apparently perfectly well. They had, as they expressed it, ‘been through the furnace and become seasoned.’ Most of these, however, were foreigners, who appeared to have abandoned all hope of ever being exchanged, and had become quite indifferent with regard to the place of their abode.
“But, as strange as it may seem, despite all the * * * suffering that took place there, I knew many people who had lived in that place for two years and seemed perfectly fine. They described their experience by saying they had 'been through the furnace and come out stronger.' Most of them, however, were foreigners who seemed to have given up any hope of being exchanged and had grown quite indifferent about their living conditions.”
“But far different was the condition of that portion of our number who were natives of the United States. These formed by far the most numerous class of the prisoners. Most of these were young men, * * * who had been captured soon after leaving their homes, and during their first voyage. After they had been here immured the sudden change in their situation was like a sentence of death. Many a one was crushed down beneath the sickness of the heart, so well described by the poet:—
“But the situation was quite different for the group among us who were natives of the United States. They made up by far the largest group of the prisoners. Most of these were young men, * * * who had been captured shortly after leaving their homes and during their first voyage. Once they were imprisoned here, the abrupt shift in their circumstances felt like a death sentence. Many of them were weighed down by a deep sadness, like what the poet has described:—
“‘Night and day,
Brooding on what he had been, what he was,
‘Twas more than he could bear, his longing fits
Thickened upon him. His desire for Home
Became a madness’
“‘Night and day, Reflecting on who he had been, who he was, ‘It was more than he could handle, his fits of longing Grew stronger. His desire for Home Became an obsession’
“These poor creatures had, in many instances, been plundered of their wearing apparel by their captors, and here, the dismal and disgusting objects by which they were surrounded, the vermin which infested them, the vile and loathsome food, and what with them was far from being the lightest of their trials, their ceaseless longing after their homes, * * * all combined, had a wonderful effect on them. Dejection and anguish were soon visible on their countenances. They became dismayed and terror-stricken; and many of them absolutely died that most awful of all human deaths, the effects of a broken heart.
“These poor creatures had, in many cases, been stripped of their clothes by their captors, and here, the bleak and disgusting surroundings, the bugs that infested them, the horrible and vile food, and what was for them far from the lightest of their struggles—their constant yearning for their homes—all combined to have a profound effect on them. Sadness and distress quickly became evident on their faces. They grew discouraged and terrified; and many of them actually died that most dreadful of all human deaths, the effects of a broken heart.”
“A custom had long been established that certain labor which it was necessary should be performed daily, should be done by a company, usually called the ‘Working party.’ This consisted of about twenty able-bodied men chosen from among the prisoners, and was commanded, in daily rotation, by those of our number who had formerly been officers of vessels. The commander of the party for the day bore the title of Boatswain. The members of the Working-party received, as a compensation for their services, a full allowance of provisions, and half a pint of rum each, with the privilege of going on deck early in the morning, to breathe the pure air.
A tradition had been established that certain daily tasks needed to be done by a group usually referred to as the ‘Working party.’ This group consisted of about twenty able-bodied men selected from among the prisoners, and it was led each day on a rotating basis by those among us who had previously been ship officers. The leader of the group for the day was called the Boatswain. The members of the Working party received, as payment for their work, a full ration of food and half a pint of rum each, along with the privilege of going on deck early in the morning to enjoy the fresh air.
“This privilege alone was a sufficient compensation for all the duty which was required of them.
“This privilege alone was enough compensation for all the duties they had to perform."
“Their routine of service was to wash down that part of the upper deck and gangways where the prisoners were permitted to walk; to spread the awning, or to hoist on board the wood, water, and other supplies, from the boats in which the same were brought alongside the ship.
“Their routine of service was to clean the part of the upper deck and gangways where the prisoners were allowed to walk; to set up the awning, or to bring on board the wood, water, and other supplies from the boats that were alongside the ship.”
“When the prisoners ascended to the upper deck in the morning, if the day was fair, each carried up his hammock and bedding, which were all placed upon the spar-deck, or booms. The Working-party then took the sick and disabled who remained below, and placed them in the bunks prepared for them upon the centre-deck; they then, if any of the prisoners had died during the night, carried up the dead bodies, and laid them upon the booms; after which it was their duty to wash down the main decks below; during which operation the prisoners remained on the upper deck, except such as chose to go below and volunteer their services in the performance of this duty.
“When the prisoners came up to the upper deck in the morning, if the weather was nice, each one brought up their hammock and bedding, which were all placed on the spar-deck or booms. The working party then took the sick and disabled who stayed below and put them in the bunks prepared for them on the center deck; if any prisoners had died during the night, they carried the dead bodies up and laid them on the booms; after that, it was their job to wash down the main decks below; during this process, the prisoners stayed on the upper deck, unless they chose to go below and volunteer to help with this duty.”
“Around the railing of the hatchway leading from the centre to the lower decks, were placed a number of large tubs for the occasional use of the prisoners during the night, and as general receptacles of filth. Although these were indispensably necessary to us, yet they were highly offensive. It was a part of the duty of the Working-party to carry these on deck, at the time when the prisoners ascended in the morning, and to return them between decks in the afternoon.
“Around the railing of the hatchway leading from the center to the lower decks, there were several large tubs for the occasional use of the prisoners during the night, and as general containers for waste. While these were absolutely necessary for us, they were also very unpleasant. It was the responsibility of the Working party to carry these on deck in the morning when the prisoners came up, and to bring them back below deck in the afternoon.”
“Our beds and clothing were kept on deck until nearly the hour when we were to be ordered below for the night. During this interval * * * the decks washed and cleared of all incumbrance, except the poor wretches who lay in the bunks, it was quite refreshing after the suffocating heat and foul vapors of the night to walk between decks. There was then some circulation of air through the ship, and, for a few hours, our existence was, in some degree, tolerable.
“Our beds and clothes were kept on deck until almost the time we were told to go below for the night. During this time * * * the decks were washed and cleared of all clutter, except for the poor souls lying in the bunks. It felt quite refreshing to walk between decks after the stifling heat and awful smells of the night. There was some airflow through the ship, and for a few hours, life was somewhat bearable.”
“About two hours before sunset the order was usually issued for the prisoners to carry their hammocks, etc., below. After this had been done we were all either to retire between decks, or to remain above until sunset according to our own pleasure. Everything which we could do conducive to cleanliness having then been performed, if we ever felt anything like enjoyment in this wretched abode, it was during this brief interval, when we breathed the cool air of the approaching night, and felt the luxury of our evening pipe. But short indeed was this interval of repose. The Working-party was soon ordered to carry the tubs below, and we prepared to descend to our gloomy and crowded dungeons. This was no sooner done than the gratings were closed over the hatchways, the sentinels stationed, and we left to sicken and pine beneath our accumulated torments; with our guards above crying aloud, through the long night, ‘All’s well!”’
“About two hours before sunset, we usually got the order for the prisoners to take their hammocks and other belongings below. Once that was done, we could either go below decks or stay up top until sunset, depending on our choice. After we had done everything we could to stay clean, if we ever felt any hint of enjoyment in this miserable place, it was during this short break, when we breathed the cool evening air and enjoyed our evening pipe. But this moment of rest was very short-lived. The working party was soon called to take the tubs below, and we got ready to descend into our dark and crowded cells. As soon as that was done, the grates were closed over the hatches, the guards were stationed, and we were left to suffer and wither under our accumulated hardships, while our guards above shouted through the long night, ‘All’s well!’”
Captain Dring says that at that time the Jersey was used for seamen alone. The average number on board was one thousand. It consisted of the crews of vessels of all the nations with which the English were at war. But the greater number had been captured on board American vessels.
Captain Dring says that at that time, the Jersey was used only for sailors. The average number on board was one thousand. It included the crews of ships from all the nations that the English were at war with. However, most of them had been captured from American ships.
There were three hospital ships in the Wallabout; the Stromboli, the Hunter, and the Scorpion. [Footnote: At one time as we have seen, the Scorpion was a prison ship, from which Freneau was sent to the Hunter hospital ship.] There was not room enough on board these ships for all the sick, and a part of the upper deck of the Jersey was therefore prepared for their accommodation. These were on the after part of the upper deck, on the larboard side, where those who felt the symptoms of approaching sickness could lie down, in order to be found by the nurses as soon as possible.
There were three hospital ships in the Wallabout: the Stromboli, the Hunter, and the Scorpion. [Footnote: At one point, as we’ve seen, the Scorpion was a prison ship, from which Freneau was sent to the Hunter hospital ship.] There wasn’t enough room on these ships for all the sick, so part of the upper deck of the Jersey was set up to accommodate them. This area was located on the back of the upper deck, on the left side, where those who were starting to feel sick could lie down, so the nurses could find them as quickly as possible.
Few ever returned from the hospital ships to the Jersey. Dring knew but three such instances during his imprisonment. He says that “the outward appearance of these hospitals was disgusting in the highest degree. The sight of them was terrible to us. Their appearance was even more shocking than that of our own miserable hulk.
Few ever came back from the hospital ships to the Jersey. Dring knew of only three such cases during his time in captivity. He says that “the outward appearance of these hospitals was extremely disgusting. The sight of them was horrifying to us. They looked even worse than our own wretched hulk.
“On board the Jersey among the prisoners were about half a dozen men known by the appellation of nurses. I never learned by whom they were appointed, or whether they had any regular appointment at all. But one fact I knew well; they were all thieves. They were, however, sometimes useful in assisting the sick to ascend from below to the gangway on the upper deck, to be examined by the visiting Surgeon who attended from the Hunter every day, when the weather was good. If a sick man was pronounced by the Surgeon to be a proper subject for one of the hospital ships, he was put into the boat waiting alongside; but not without the loss or detention of his effects, if he had any, as these were at once taken by the nurses, as their own property. * * * I had found Mr. Robert Carver, our Gunner while on board the Chance, sick in one of the bunks where those retired who wished to be removed. He was without a bed or pillow, and had put on all the wearing apparel which he possessed, wishing to preserve it, and being sensible of his situation. I found him sitting upright in the bunk, with his great-coat on over the rest of his garments, and his hat between his knees. The weather was excessively hot, and, in the place where he lay, the heat was overpowering. I at once saw that he was delirious, a sure presage that the end was near. I took off his great-coat, and having folded and placed it under his head for a pillow, I laid him upon it, and went immediately to prepare him some tea. I was absent but a few minutes, and, on returning, met one of the thievish Nurses with Carver’s great-coat in his hand. On ordering him to return it his reply was that it was a perquisite of the Nurses, and the only one they had; that the man was dying, and the great-coat could be of no further use to him. I however, took possession of the coat, and on my liberation, returned it to the family of the owner. Mr Carver soon after expired where he lay. We procured a blanket in which to wrap his body, which was thus prepared for interment. Others of the crew of the Chance had died before that time. Mr Carver was a man of strong and robust constitution. Such men were subject to the most violent attacks of the fever, and were also its most certain victims.”
“On board the Jersey, there were about six men among the prisoners who were referred to as nurses. I never found out who appointed them or if they had any official role at all. But one thing I knew for sure: they were all thieves. Still, they sometimes helped the sick get from below decks to the gangway on the upper deck to be checked by the visiting Surgeon who came from the Hunter every day when the weather was nice. If the Surgeon decided a sick man needed to be sent to one of the hospital ships, he was placed in the waiting boat; but this often meant losing or having his belongings taken, as the nurses immediately claimed them as their own. * * * I found Mr. Robert Carver, our Gunner from the Chance, sick in one of the bunks designated for those who wanted to be moved. He had no bed or pillow and had put on all the clothes he owned to keep them safe, fully aware of his situation. I saw him sitting upright in the bunk, wearing his great-coat over his other clothes, with his hat between his knees. The weather was extremely hot, and the heat in that area was unbearable. I quickly realized he was delirious, a clear sign that the end was near. I took off his great-coat, folded it, and placed it under his head as a pillow, then went right away to make him some tea. I was gone only a few minutes, and when I returned, I saw one of the thieving Nurses holding Carver’s great-coat. When I ordered him to give it back, he claimed it was a benefit of being a Nurse and the only one they had; he said the man was dying and that the coat wouldn’t be of any further use to him. I took the coat back anyway, and after I was freed, I returned it to Carver's family. Mr. Carver soon passed away right where he lay. We managed to get a blanket to wrap his body so it could be prepared for burial. Others from the crew of the Chance had died before that. Mr. Carver was a man of strong and robust health. Men like him were prone to the most severe fever attacks and were often its most certain victims.”
CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE INTERMENT OF THE DEAD
Captain Dring continues his narrative by describing the manner in which the dead were interred in the sand of the Wallabout. Every morning, he says, the dead bodies were carried to the upper deck and there laid upon the gratings. Any person who could procure, and chose to furnish, a blanket, was allowed to sew it around the remains of his departed companion.
Captain Dring continues his story by explaining how the dead were buried in the sand of the Wallabout. He says that every morning, the bodies were taken to the upper deck and laid out on the grates. Anyone who could get a blanket and wanted to use it was allowed to wrap it around the remains of their deceased friend.
“The signal being made, a boat was soon seen approaching from the Hunter, and if there were any dead on board the other ships, the boat received them, on her way to the Jersey.
“The signal had been made, and a boat was soon seen coming from the Hunter, and if there were any casualties on the other ships, the boat took them on her way to the Jersey.”
“The corpse was laid upon a board, to which some ropes were attached as straps; as it was often the case that bodies were sent on shore for interment before they had become sufficiently stiff to be lowered into the boat by a single strap. Thus prepared a tackle was attached to the board, and the remains * * * were hoisted over the side of the ship into the boat, without further ceremony. If several bodies were waiting for interment, but one of them was lowered into the boat at a time, for the sake of decency. The prisoners were always very anxious to be engaged in the duty of interment, not so much from a feeling of humanity, or from a wish to pay respect to the remains of the dead, for to these feelings they had almost become strangers, as from the desire of once more placing their feet on the land, if but for a few minutes. A sufficient number of prisoners having received permission to assist in this duty, they entered the boat accompanied by a guard of soldiers, and put off from the ship.
“The body was placed on a board, with some ropes attached as straps; it was common for bodies to be sent ashore for burial before they had stiffened enough to be lowered into the boat with a single strap. With this setup, a tackle was fastened to the board, and the remains * * * were hoisted over the side of the ship into the boat, without any further ceremony. If several bodies were waiting for burial, only one was lowered into the boat at a time, out of respect. The prisoners were always eager to take part in the burial duties, not so much out of humanity or a desire to honor the dead, as they had nearly lost touch with those feelings, but because they longed to set foot on land again, even for just a few minutes. After a sufficient number of prisoners were granted permission to assist with this task, they boarded the boat accompanied by a guard of soldiers and departed from the ship.”
“I obtained leave to assist in the burial of the body of Mr. Carver, * * * and after landing at a low wharf which had been built from the shore, we first went to a small hut, which stood near the wharf, and was used as a place of deposit for the handbarrows and shovels provided for these occasions. Having placed the corpses on the barrows, and received our hoes and shovels, we proceeded to the side of the bank near the Waleboght. Here a vacant space having been selected, we were directed to dig a trench in the sand, of a proper length for the reception of the bodies. We continued our labor until the guards considered that a sufficient space had been excavated. The corpses were then laid in the trench without ceremony, and we threw the sand over them. The whole appeared to produce no more effect upon our guards than if they were burying the bodies of dead animals, instead of men. They scarcely allowed us time to look about us; for no sooner had we heaped the earth upon the trench, than we were ordered to march. But a single glance was sufficient to show us parts of many bodies which were exposed to view, although they had probably been placed there with the same mockery of interment but a few days before.
“I got permission to help with the burial of Mr. Carver's body, * * * and after landing at a low wharf built from the shore, we first went to a small hut near the wharf that was used to store the handcarts and shovels provided for these occasions. After loading the bodies onto the carts and getting our hoes and shovels, we headed to the side of the bank near the Waleboght. Here, after choosing an empty spot, we were instructed to dig a trench in the sand, long enough for the bodies. We continued our work until the guards decided we had dug a sufficient space. The bodies were then laid in the trench without ceremony, and we covered them with sand. To our guards, this seemed no more significant than burying dead animals instead of men. They hardly let us pause to look around; as soon as we finished covering the trench, we were ordered to march. But one quick glance was enough to reveal parts of many bodies that were exposed, even though they’d likely been buried there with the same disregard just a few days earlier.”
“Having thus performed, as well as we were permitted to do it, the last duty to the dead, and the guards having stationed themselves on each side of us, we began reluctantly to retrace our steps to the boat. We had enjoyed the pleasure of breathing for a few minutes the air of our native soil; and the thought of return to the crowded prison-ship was terrible in the extreme. As we passed by the waterside we implored our guards to allow us to bathe, or even to wash ourselves for a few minutes, but this was refused us.
“After having done the best we could for the deceased, and with the guards positioned on either side of us, we sadly began to head back to the boat. We had relished a few moments breathing the air of our homeland, and the idea of going back to the cramped prison ship was utterly unbearable. As we walked along the waterside, we pleaded with our guards to let us bathe or even wash up for a few minutes, but this request was denied.”
“I was the only person of our party who wore a pair of shoes, and well recollect that I took them off for the pleasure of feeling the earth, or rather the sand, as we went along. * * * We went by a small patch of turf, some pieces of which we tore up from the earth, and obtained permission to carry them on board for our comrades to smell them. Circumstances like these may appear trifling to the careless reader; but let him be assured that they were far from being trifles to men situated as we had been. The inflictions which we had endured; the duty which we had just performed; the feeling that we must, in a few minutes, re-enter the place of suffering, from which, in all probability, we should never return alive; all tended to render everything connected with the firm land beneath, and the sweet air above us, objects of deep and thrilling interest.
“I was the only person in our group who wore shoes, and I remember taking them off just to feel the earth, or rather the sand, as we walked. * * * We passed a small patch of grass, some of which we pulled up from the ground and got permission to bring on board for our friends to smell. Things like these might seem trivial to a casual reader, but they were far from minor to men in our situation. The hardships we had suffered; the duty we had just completed; the realization that we had to go back to a place of suffering, from which we likely wouldn’t return alive; all made everything connected to the solid ground beneath us and the fresh air above us incredibly significant and meaningful.
“Having arrived at the hut we there deposited our implements, and walked to the landing-place, where we prevailed on our guards, who were Hessians, to allow us the gratification of remaining nearly half an hour before we returned to the boat.
“After we arrived at the hut, we dropped off our gear and walked to the landing area, where we convinced our guards, who were Hessians, to let us stay for almost half an hour before we went back to the boat."
“Near us stood a house occupied by a miller, and we had been told that a tide-mill which he attended was in the immediate vicinity, as a landing-place for which the wharf where we stood had been erected. * * * It was designated by the prisoners by the appellation of the ‘Old Dutchman’s,’ and its very walls were viewed by us with feelings of veneration, as we had been told that the amiable daughter of its owner had kept an accurate account of the number of bodies that had been brought on shore for interment from the Jersey and hospital ships. This could easily be done in the house, as its windows commanded a fair view of the landing place. We were not, however, gratified by a sight of herself, or of any other inmate of the house.
“Nearby was a house belonging to a miller, and we had heard that a tide mill he operated was close by, which is why the wharf we stood on had been built as a landing spot. * * * The prisoners called it the ‘Old Dutchman’s,’ and we looked at its very walls with a sense of respect because we had been told that the kind daughter of the owner had kept a precise tally of how many bodies were brought ashore for burial from the Jersey and hospital ships. It was easy for her to do this from the house since its windows had a clear view of the landing area. However, we were disappointed not to catch a glimpse of her or any other resident of the house.”
“Sadly did we approach and re-enter our foul and disgusting place of confinement. The pieces of turf which we carried on board were sought for by our fellow prisoners, with the greatest avidity, every fragment being passed by them from hand to hand, and its smell inhaled as if it had been a fragrant rose. * * * The first of the crew of the Chance to die was a lad named Palmer, about twelve years of age, and the youngest of our crew. When on board the Chance he was a waiter to the officers, and he continued in this duty after we were placed on board the Jersey. He had, with many others of our crew, been inoculated for the small-pox, immediately after our arrival on board. The usual symptoms appeared at the proper time, and we supposed the appearance of his disorder favorable, but these soon changed, and the yellow hue of his features declared the approach of death. * * * The night he died was truly a wretched one for me. I spent most of it in total darkness, holding him during his convulsions. * * * I had done everything in my power for this poor boy, during his sickness, and could render him but one more kind office (after his death). I assisted to sew a blanket around his body, which was, with others who had died, during the night, conveyed upon deck in the morning, to be at the usual hour hurried to the bank at the Walebocht. I regretted that I could not assist at his interment, as I was then suffering with the small-pox myself, neither am I certain that permission would have been granted me, if I had sought it. Our keepers appeared to have no idea that the prisoners could feel any regard for each other, but appeared to think us as cold-hearted as themselves. If anything like sympathy was ever shown us by any of them it was done by the Hessians. * * * The next deaths among our company were those of Thomas Mitchell and his son-in-law, Thomas Sturmey. It is a singular fact that both of these men died at the same time.”
“Sadly, we approached and re-entered our foul and disgusting place of confinement. The pieces of turf we brought on board were eagerly sought after by our fellow prisoners, each fragment being passed from hand to hand, and its smell inhaled as if it were a fragrant rose. * * * The first of the crew of the Chance to die was a boy named Palmer, around twelve years old, and the youngest in our crew. While on the Chance, he was a waiter for the officers, and he continued in this role after we were placed on the Jersey. He had, along with many others of our crew, been vaccinated for smallpox right after we arrived on board. The usual symptoms appeared at the right time, and we thought his condition was improving, but then it quickly changed, and the yellow tint of his face signaled the approach of death. * * * The night he died was truly miserable for me. I spent most of it in complete darkness, holding him as he convulsed. * * * I did everything I could for this poor boy during his illness, and could only do one more kind thing for him (after he died). I helped to sew a blanket around his body, which, along with others who had died during the night, was taken on deck in the morning to be hurried to the bank at Walebocht at the usual hour. I regretted that I couldn’t help with his burial, as I was suffering from smallpox myself, and I'm not sure they would have allowed me to help even if I had asked. Our captors seemed to have no idea that the prisoners could care for each other; they thought we were as cold-hearted as they were. If there was ever any compassion shown to us, it came from the Hessians. * * * The next deaths among our group were those of Thomas Mitchell and his son-in-law, Thomas Sturmey. It’s a strange fact that both of these men died at the same time.”
THE GUARDS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
THE GUARDS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
“In addition to the regular officers and seamen of the Jersey, there were stationed on board about a dozen old invalid Marines, but our actual guard was composed of soldiers from the different regiments quartered on Long Island. The number usually on duty on board was about thirty. Each week they were relieved by a fresh party. They were English, Hessian, and Refugees. We always preferred the Hessians, from whom we received better treatment than from the others. As to the English, we did not complain, being aware that they merely obeyed their orders, in regard to us; but the Refugees * * * were viewed by us with scorn and hatred. I do not recollect, however, that a guard of these miscreants was placed over us more than three times, during which their presence occasioned much tumult and confusion; for the prisoners could not endure the sight of these men, and occasionally assailed them with abusive language, while they, in turn, treated us with all the severity in their power. We dared not approach near them, for fear of their bayonets, and of course could not pass along the gangways where they were stationed; but were obliged to crawl along upon the booms, in order to get fore and aft, or to go up and down the hatchways. They never answered any of our remarks respecting them, but would merely point to their uniforms, as much as to say, ‘We are clothed by our Sovereign, while you are naked.’ They were as much gratified by the idea of leaving us as we were at seeing them depart.
“In addition to the regular officers and seamen of the Jersey, there were about a dozen old invalid Marines stationed on board, but our actual guard consisted of soldiers from various regiments based on Long Island. The number on duty was usually around thirty, and they were relieved each week by a new group. They included English, Hessian, and Refugees. We always preferred the Hessians, as they treated us better than the others. We didn’t complain about the English, knowing they were just following orders regarding us; however, we held the Refugees in scorn and hatred. I don’t recall having a guard of those miscreants over us more than three times, during which their presence caused a lot of chaos and confusion. The prisoners couldn’t stand the sight of these men and sometimes shouted insults at them, while they responded with all the harshness they could muster. We didn’t dare get too close to them because of their bayonets and, naturally, we couldn’t walk along the gangways where they were stationed; instead, we had to crawl along the booms to get from one end of the ship to the other or go up and down the hatches. They never replied to our comments about them but would just point to their uniforms, implying, ‘We are dressed by our Sovereign, while you are naked.’ They took as much pleasure in leaving us as we did in seeing them go.”
“Many provoking gestures were made by the prisoners as they left the ship, and our curses followed them as far as we could make ourselves heard.
“Many provocative gestures were made by the prisoners as they left the ship, and our curses followed them as far as we could be heard.”
“A regiment of Refugees, with a green uniform, were then quartered at Brooklyn. We were invited to join this Royal band, and to partake of his Majesty’s pardon and bounty. But the prisoners, in the midst of their unbounded sufferings, of their dreadful privations, and consuming anguish, spurned the insulting offer. They preferred to linger and to die rather than desert their country’s cause. During the whole period of my confinement I never knew a single instance of enlistment among the prisoners of the Jersey.
“A regiment of refugees wearing green uniforms was then stationed in Brooklyn. We were invited to join this royal group and to enjoy the king’s pardon and generosity. However, the prisoners, in the midst of their immense suffering, terrible hardships, and deep anguish, rejected the insulting offer. They would rather endure and die than abandon their country’s cause. Throughout my entire time in captivity, I never witnessed a single instance of enlistment among the prisoners at Jersey.”
“The only duty, to my knowledge, ever performed by the old Marines was to guard the water-butt, near which one of them was stationed with a drawn cutlass. They were ordered to allow no prisoner to carry away more than one pint at once, but we were allowed to drink at the butt as much as we pleased, for which purpose two or three copper ladles were chained to the cask. Having been long on board and regular in performance of this duty, they had become familiar with the faces of the prisoners, and could, in many instances, detect the frauds which we practiced upon them in order to obtain more fresh water for our cooking than was allowed us by the regulations of the ship. Over the water the sailors had no control. The daily consumption of water on board was at least equal to 700 gallons. I know not whence it was brought, but presume it was from Brooklyn. One large gondola, or boat, was kept in constant employment to furnish the necessary supply.
“The only duty I know of that the old Marines ever had was to guard the water barrel, where one of them was stationed with a drawn cutlass. They were instructed not to let any prisoner take more than one pint at a time, but we were allowed to drink as much as we wanted from the barrel, for which two or three copper ladles were chained to the cask. Having been on board for a long time and regularly doing this task, they became familiar with the prisoners' faces and could often spot the tricks we used to get more fresh water for cooking than the ship’s rules allowed. The sailors had no control over the water supply. The daily water consumption on board was at least 700 gallons. I don’t know where it came from, but I assume it was from Brooklyn. One large gondola or boat was constantly used to provide the necessary supply."
“So much of the water as was not required on deck for immediate use was conducted into butts, placed in the lower hold of the hulk, through a leather hose, passing through her side, near the bends. To this water we had recourse, when we could procure no other.
“So much of the water that wasn’t needed on deck for immediate use was funneled into barrels placed in the lower hold of the ship, through a leather hose that went through her side, near the bends. We relied on this water when we couldn’t get any other.”
“When water in any degree fit for use was brought on board, it is impossible to describe the struggle which ensued, in consequence of our haste and exertions to procure a draught of it. The best which was ever afforded us was very brackish, but that from the ship’s hold was nauseous in the highest degree. This must be evident when the fact is stated that the butts for receiving it had never been cleaned since they were put in the hold. The quantity of foul sediment which they contained was therefore very great, and was disturbed and mixed with the water as often as a new supply was poured into them, thereby rendering their whole contents a substance of the most disgusting and poisonous nature. I have not the least doubt that the use of this vile compound caused the death of hundreds of the prisoners, when, to allay their tormenting thirst, they were driven by desperation to drink this liquid poison, and to abide the consequences.”
“When usable water was brought on board, the struggle that followed was unimaginable due to our urgent need to get some. The best water we got was salty, but the water from the ship’s hold was incredibly foul. This is clear when you consider that the barrels meant to hold it hadn’t been cleaned since they were put in the hold. They were full of a lot of nasty sediment, which got stirred up and mixed with the water every time a new supply was added, making everything inside a truly disgusting and toxic substance. I have no doubt that this terrible mixture caused the deaths of hundreds of prisoners, who, out of desperate thirst, were forced to drink this poisonous liquid and suffer the consequences.”
CHAPTER XXXVII. — DAME GRANT AND HER BOAT
“One indulgence was allowed us by our keepers, if indulgence it can be called. They had given permission for a boat to come alongside the ship, with a supply of a few necessary articles, to be sold to such of the prisoners as possessed the means of paying for them. This trade was carried on by a very corpulent old woman, known among us by the name of Dame Grant. Her visits, which were made every other day, were of much benefit to us, and, I presume, a source of profit to herself. She brought us soft bread and fruit, with various other articles, such as tea, sugar, etc., all of which she previously put up into small paper parcels, from one ounce to a pound in weight, with the price affixed to each, from which she would never deviate. The bulk of the old lady completely filled the stern sheets of the boat, where she sat, with her box of goods before her, from which she supplied us very expeditiously. Her boat was rowed by two boys, who delivered to us the articles we had purchased, the price of which we were required first to put into their hands.
“One indulgence was allowed us by our keepers, if indulgence it can be called. They had given permission for a boat to come alongside the ship, with a supply of a few necessary items, to be sold to any of the prisoners who could afford them. This trade was run by a very plump old woman, known among us as Dame Grant. Her visits, which were made every other day, were of great benefit to us, and I presume, a source of profit to her. She brought us soft bread and fruit, along with various other items, like tea, sugar, etc., all of which she had previously packaged into small paper parcels, weighing from one ounce to a pound, with a set price on each, which she would never change. The bulk of the old lady completely filled the stern of the boat, where she sat, with her box of goods in front of her, from which she supplied us very quickly. Her boat was rowed by two boys, who handed us the items we had bought, the price of which we were required to give them first.”
“When our guard was not composed of Refugees, we were usually permitted to descend to the foot of the Accommodation-ladder, in order to select from the boat such articles as we wished. While standing there it was distressing to see the faces of hundreds of half-famished wretches, looking over the side of the ship into the boat, without the means of purchasing the most trifling article before their sight, not even so much as a morsel of wholesome bread. None of us possessed the means of generosity, nor had any power to afford them relief. Whenever I bought any articles from the boat I never enjoyed them; for it was impossible to do so in the presence of so many needy wretches, eagerly gazing at my purchase, and almost dying for want of it.
“When our guard wasn’t made up of Refugees, we were usually allowed to go down to the bottom of the Accommodation-ladder to choose items from the boat that we wanted. Standing there, it was heartbreaking to see the faces of hundreds of starving people looking over the side of the ship at the boat, unable to buy even the slightest item in front of them, not even a bite of decent bread. None of us had the ability to be generous or the power to help them. Whenever I bought anything from the boat, I never enjoyed it; it was impossible to do so with so many desperate people watching my purchase, almost dying for what I had.”
“We frequently furnished Dame Grant with a memorandum of such articles as we wished her to procure for us, such as pipes, tobacco, needles, thread, and combs. These she always faithfully procured and brought to us, never omitting the assurance that she afforded them exactly at cost.
“We often provided Dame Grant with a list of items we wanted her to buy for us, including pipes, tobacco, needles, thread, and combs. She always reliably got these for us and made sure to assure us that she got them at cost.”
“Her arrival was always a subject of interest to us; but at length she did not make her appearance for several days, and her appearance was awaited in extreme anxiety. But, alas! we were no longer to enjoy this little gratification. Her traffic was ended. She had taken the fever from the hulk, and died * * * leaving a void which was never afterwards filled up.”
“Her arrival was always something we looked forward to; but eventually, she didn’t show up for several days, and we anxiously awaited her return. But, unfortunately! we would no longer have that little pleasure. Her time with us was over. She had contracted a fever from the ship and died * * * leaving a void that was never filled again.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE SUPPLIES FOR THE PRISONERS
“After the death of Dame Grant, we were under the necessity of puchasing from the Sutler such small supplies as we needed. This man was one of the Mates of the ship, and occupied one of the apartments under the quarter-deck, through the bulkhead of which an opening had been cut, from which he delivered his goods. He here kept for sale a variety of articles, among which was usually a supply of ardent spirits, which was not allowed to be brought alongside the ship, for sale. It could, therefore, only be procured from the Sutler, whose price was two dollars per gallon. Except in relation to this article, no regular price was fixed for what he sold us. We were first obliged to hand him the money, and he then gave us such a quantity as he pleased of the article which we needed; there was on our part no bargain to be made, but to be supplied even in this manner was, to those of us who had means of payment, a great convenience. * * *
“After Dame Grant passed away, we had to buy small supplies from the Sutler. This guy was one of the Mates on the ship and lived in one of the rooms below the quarter-deck. He had cut an opening in the bulkhead to deliver his goods. He sold a variety of items, including a stock of hard liquor, which wasn’t allowed to be brought alongside the ship for sale. So, you could only get it from the Sutler, and it cost two dollars per gallon. Other than this, there wasn’t a set price for what he sold us. We first had to hand him the money, and then he would give us whatever amount he felt like of the items we needed; there was no negotiation on our part. But for those of us who could pay, even this arrangement was a big help.”
“Our own people afforded us no relief. O my country! Why were we thus neglected in this hour of our misery, why was not a little food and raiment given to the dying martyrs of thy cause?
“Our own people offered us no help. O my country! Why were we neglected in this time of our suffering? Why wasn’t a bit of food and clothing provided to the dying martyrs of your cause?
“Although the supplies which some of us were enabled to procure from the Sutler were highly conducive to our comfort, yet one most necessary article neither himself nor any other person could furnish. This was wood for our daily cooking, to procure a sufficient quantity of which was to us a source of continual trouble and anxiety. The Cooks would indeed steal small quantities, and sell them to us at the hazard of certain punishment if detected; but it was not in their power to embezzle a sufficient quantity to meet our daily necessities. As the disgust at swallowing any food which had been cooked in the Great Copper was universal, each person used every exertion to procure as much wood as possible, for the private cooking of his own mess.
“Although the supplies that some of us were able to get from the Sutler really helped our comfort, there was one essential item that neither he nor anyone else could provide. This was wood for our daily cooking, and getting enough of it was a constant source of trouble and anxiety for us. The Cooks would indeed steal small amounts and sell them to us, risking punishment if caught; but they couldn’t steal enough to meet our daily needs. Since everyone was disgusted by any food that had been cooked in the Great Copper, each person made every effort to gather as much wood as possible for the private cooking of their own group.”
“During my excursion to the shore to assist in the interment of Mr. Carver, it was my good fortune to find a hogshead stave floating in the water. This was truly a prize I conveyed the treasure on board, and in the economical manner in which it was used, it furnished the mess to which I belonged with a supply of fuel for a considerable time.
“During my trip to the shore to help bury Mr. Carver, I was lucky enough to find a barrel stave floating in the water. This was definitely a treasure, and I brought it on board. The way it was used was practical, providing my group with fuel for quite a while.”
“I was also truly fortunate on another occasion. I had, one day, commanded the Working-party, which was then employed in taking on board a sloop-load of wood for the sailors’ use. This was carefully conveyed below, under a guard, to prevent embezzlement. I nevertheless found means, with the assistance of my associates, to convey a cleft of it into the Gunroom, where it was immediately secreted. Our mess was thereby supplied with a sufficient quantity for a long time, and its members were considered by far the most wealthy persons in all this republic of misery. We had enough for our own use, and were enabled, occasionally, to supply our neighbors with a few splinters.
“I was also really lucky on another occasion. One day, I was in charge of the Work party, which was busy loading a sloop with wood for the sailors' use. This was carefully taken below, under guard, to prevent theft. However, I managed, with the help of my friends, to sneak a piece of it into the Gunroom, where it was quickly hidden. Our mess was thus supplied with enough wood to last for a long time, and its members were considered by far the richest people in this entire republic of misery. We had enough for ourselves and were even able to share a few pieces with our neighbors.”
“Our mode of preparing the wood was to cut it with a jack-knife into pieces about four inches long. This labor occupied much of our time, and was performed by the different members of our mess in rotation, which employment was to us a source of no little pleasure.
“Our way of preparing the wood was to cut it with a pocket knife into pieces about four inches long. This work took up much of our time and was done by different members of our group in turns, which we found to be quite enjoyable.”
“After a sufficient quantity had been thus prepared for the next day’s use, it was deposited in the chest. The main stock was guarded by day and night, with the most scrupulous and anxious care. We kept it at night within our enclosure, and by day it was always watched by some one of its proprietors. So highly did we value it that we went into mathematical calculation to ascertain how long it would supply us, if a given quantity was each day consumed.”
“After enough had been prepared for the next day, it was placed in the chest. The main stock was carefully watched day and night with great attention. At night, we kept it inside our enclosure, and during the day, one of the owners always kept an eye on it. We valued it so much that we even did some math to figure out how long it would last if we used a certain amount each day.”
OUR BY-LAWS
OUR BYLAWS
“Soon after the Jersey was first used as a place of confinement a code of by-laws had been established by the prisoners, for their own regulation and government; to which a willing submission was paid, so far as circumstances would permit. I much regret my inability to give these rules verbatim, but I cannot at this distant period of time recollect them with a sufficient degree of distinctness. They were chiefly directed to the preservation of personal cleanliness, and the prevention of immorality. For a refusal to comply with any of them, the refractory person was subjected to a stated punishment. It is an astonishing fact that any rules, thus made, should have so long existed and been enforced among a multitude of men situated as we were, so numerous and composed of that class of human beings who are not easily controlled, and usually not the most ardent supporters of good order. There were many foreigners among our number, over whom we had no control, except so far as they chose, voluntarily, to submit to our regulations, which they cheerfully did, in almost every instance, so far as their condition would allow. Among our rules were the following. That personal cleanliness should be preserved, as far as was practicable; that profane language should be avoided; that drunkenness should not be allowed; that theft should be severely punished, and that no smoking should be permitted between decks, by day or night, on account of the annoyance which it caused the sick.
“Soon after the Jersey was first used as a place of confinement, the prisoners established a set of by-laws for their own regulation and governance, which they mostly adhered to, as much as circumstances allowed. I regret that I can't recall these rules exactly, as it’s been too long for me to remember them clearly. They mainly focused on maintaining personal cleanliness and preventing immorality. Anyone who refused to follow them faced a specific punishment. It’s remarkable that any rules like this could have lasted and been followed by a large group of men in our situation, especially since we were numerous and made up of people who aren't easily controlled, often lacking a strong commitment to good order. Many of us were foreigners, who we could only influence to the extent that they willingly chose to follow our rules, which they generally did, whenever possible. Among our rules were the following: maintain personal cleanliness as much as possible; avoid using profanity; prohibit drunkenness; enforce strict punishment for theft; and ban smoking between decks, day or night, because it disturbed the sick.”
“A due observance of the Sabbath was also strongly enjoined; and it was recommended to every individual to appear cleanly shaved on Sunday morning, and to refrain from all recreation during the day.
“A proper observance of the Sabbath was also strongly encouraged; and it was recommended that everyone appear cleanly shaved on Sunday morning and avoid all recreation throughout the day.
“This rule was particularly recommended to the attention of the officers, and the remainder of the prisoners were desired to follow their example.
“This rule was specifically highlighted for the officers, and the other prisoners were asked to follow their lead.
“Our By-laws were occasionally read to the assembled prisoners, and always whenever any person was to be punished for their violation. Theft or fraud upon the allowance of a fellow prisoner was always punished, and the infliction was always approved by the whole company. On these occasions the oldest officer among the prisoners presided as Judge. It required much exertion for many of us to comply with the law prohibiting smoking between decks. Being myself much addicted to the habit of smoking, it would have been a great privilege to have enjoyed the liberty of thus indulging it, particularly during the night, while sitting by one of the air-ports; but as this was inadmissible, I of course submitted to the prohibition. * * * We were not allowed means of striking a fire, and were obliged to procure it from the Cook employed for the ship’s officers, through a small window in the bulkhead, near the caboose. After one had thus procured fire the rest were also soon supplied, and our pipes were all in full operation in the course of a few minutes. The smoke which rose around us appeared to purify the pestilent air by which we were surrounded; and I attribute the preservation of my health, in a great degree, to the exercise of this habit. Our greatest difficulty was to procure tobacco. This, to some of the prisoners, was impossible, and it must have been an aggravation to their sufferings to see us apparently puffing away our sorrows, while they had no means of procuring the enjoyment of a similar gratification.
“Our by-laws were sometimes read to the assembled prisoners, and always when someone was to be punished for breaking them. Theft or fraud against a fellow prisoner was always punished, and the punishment was approved by everyone present. On these occasions, the oldest officer among the prisoners acted as Judge. It took a lot of effort for many of us to follow the rule against smoking between decks. Since I was very fond of smoking, it would have been a great privilege to enjoy that freedom, especially at night while sitting by one of the air-ports; but since that wasn’t allowed, I of course followed the rule. * * * We weren’t allowed to start a fire ourselves and had to get it from the Cook who worked for the ship’s officers, through a small window in the bulkhead near the kitchen. Once someone got fire, everyone else quickly followed suit, and our pipes were all up and running in just a few minutes. The smoke that filled the air seemed to purify the foul atmosphere surrounding us, and I believe that my continued health was largely due to this habit. Our biggest challenge was getting tobacco. This was impossible for some of the prisoners, and it must have made their suffering worse to see us apparently smoking away our woes while they had no way to enjoy the same relief.”
“We dared not often apply at this Cook’s caboose for fire, and the surly wretch would not willingly repeat the supply. One morning I went to the window of his den, and requested leave to light my pipe, and the miscreant, without making any reply, threw a shovel full of burning cinders in my face. I was almost blinded by the pain; and several days elapsed before I fully regained my sight. My feelings on this occasion may be imagined, but redress was impossible, as we were allowed no means of even seeking it. I mention this occurrence to show to what a wretched condition we were reduced.”
“We didn’t often ask this cook for fire, and the grumpy guy wasn’t keen on giving it out. One morning, I went up to the window of his shack and asked if I could light my pipe. Instead of answering, the jerk just threw a shovel full of burning cinders in my face. I was almost blinded by the pain, and it took several days before my sight was fully restored. You can imagine how I felt, but there was no way to seek justice since we had no means to do so. I mention this incident to highlight how miserable our situation had become.”
THE ORATOR OF THE JERSEY
THE SPEAKER FROM JERSEY
“During the period of my confinement the Jersey was never visited by any regular clergyman, nor was Divine service ever performed on board, and among the whole multitude of prisoners there was but one individual who ever attempted to deliver a set speech, or to exhort his fellow sufferers. This individual was a young man named Cooper, whose station in life was apparently that of a common sailor. He evidently possessed talents of a very high order. His manners were pleasing, and he had every appearance of having received an excellent education. He was a Virginian; but I never learned the exact place of his nativity. He told us that he had been a very unmanageable youth, and that he had left his family, contrary to their wishes and advice; that he had been often assured by them that the Old Jersey would bring him up at last, and the Waleboght be his place of burial. ‘The first of these predictions,’ said he, ‘has been verified; and I care not how soon the second proves equally true, for I am prepared for the event. Death, for me, has lost its terrors, for with them I have been too long familiar.’
“During my time in confinement, the Jersey was never visited by any regular clergyman, nor was any religious service held on board. Among the many prisoners, only one person ever tried to give a speech or encourage his fellow captives. This person was a young man named Cooper, who seemed to be a common sailor. He clearly had exceptional talents. His manners were charming, and he looked like he had received a great education. He was from Virginia, but I never found out exactly where. He told us that he had been a very difficult teenager and had left his family against their wishes and advice. They had often warned him that the Old Jersey would eventually lead to his downfall, and the Waleboght would be where he was buried. ‘The first of these predictions,’ he said, ‘has come true; and I don't care how soon the second one does too, because I'm ready for it. Death has lost its fear for me, as I’ve been too familiar with it for too long.’”
“On several Sunday mornings Cooper harangued the prisoners in a very forcible yet pleasing manner, which, together with his language, made a lasting impression upon my memory. On one of these occasions, having mounted upon a temporary elevation upon the Spar-deck, he, in an audible voice, requested the attention of the prisoners, who having immediately gathered around him in silence, he commenced his discourse.
“On several Sunday mornings, Cooper passionately talked to the prisoners in a way that was both powerful and enjoyable, which, along with his choice of words, stuck with me. On one of these occasions, he climbed up on a makeshift platform on the Spar-deck and, speaking loudly, asked for the prisoners’ attention. They quickly gathered around him in silence, and he began his speech.”
“He began by saying that he hoped no one would suppose he had taken that station by way of derision or mockery of the holy day, for that such was not his object; on the contrary he was pleased to find that the good regulations established by the former prisoners, obliged us to refrain even from recreation on the Sabbath; that his object, however, was not to preach to us, nor to discourse upon any sacred subject; he wished to read us our By-laws, a copy of which he held in his hand, the framers of which were then, in all probability, sleeping in death, beneath the sand of the shore before our eyes. That these laws had been framed in wisdom, and were well fitted to preserve order and decorum in a community like ours: that his present object was to impress upon our minds the absolute necessity of a strict adherence to those wholesome regulations; that he should briefly comment upon each article, which might be thus considered as the particular text of that part of his discourse.
“He started by saying that he hoped no one would think he was taking that position as a joke or to disrespect the holy day because that wasn’t his intention; on the contrary, he was glad to see that the good rules set by the former prisoners required us to refrain from even recreation on the Sabbath. However, his aim wasn’t to preach or discuss any sacred topic; he wanted to read us our By-laws, a copy of which he held in his hand, likely created by those who were now resting in peace beneath the sand of the shore before us. He noted that these laws were wisely crafted and well-suited to maintain order and decorum in a community like ours. His goal was to emphasize the absolute need for us to strictly follow those beneficial regulations and that he would briefly comment on each article, which could be seen as the main point of that section of his talk.”
“He proceeded to point out the extreme necessity of a full observance of these Rules of Conduct, and portrayed the evil consequences which would inevitably result to us if we neglected or suffered them to fall into disuse. He enforced the necessity of our unremitting attention to personal cleanliness, and to the duties of morality; he dwelt upon the degradation and sin of drunkeness; described the meanness and atrocity of theft; and the high degree of caution against temptation necessary for men who were perhaps standing on the very brink of the grave; and added that, in his opinion, even sailors might as well refrain from profane language, while they were actually suffering in Purgatory.
“He pointed out how crucial it is to fully follow these Rules of Conduct and described the terrible consequences we would face if we ignored them or let them fall by the wayside. He stressed the importance of always paying attention to personal hygiene and our moral responsibilities; he talked about the shame and wrongness of alcoholism, highlighted the cruelty and wickedness of theft, and emphasized the level of caution needed to resist temptation, especially for those who might be on the edge of death. He even suggested that, in his view, sailors should avoid using foul language, even while they are experiencing suffering in Purgatory.”
“He said that our present torments, in that abode of misery, were a proper retribution for our former sins and transgressions; that Satan had been permitted to send out his messengers and inferior demons in every direction to collect us together, and that among the most active of these infernal agents was David Sproat, Commissary of Prisoners.
“He said that our current suffering in this place of misery was a fitting punishment for our past sins and wrongdoings; that Satan had been allowed to send out his messengers and lesser demons in every direction to gather us together, and that one of the most active of these hellish agents was David Sproat, Commissary of Prisoners.
“He then made some just and suitable observations on the fortitude with which we had sustained the weight of our accumulated miseries; of our firmness in refusing to accept the bribes of our invaders, and desert the banners of our country. During this part of his discourse the sentinels on the gangways occasionally stopped and listened attentively. We much feared that by some imprudent remark, he might expose himself to their resentment, and cautioned him not to proceed too far. He replied our keepers could do nothing more, unless they should put him to the torture, and that he should proceed.
“He then made some fair and fitting comments on the strength with which we had endured our many hardships; on our determination to refuse the bribes of our invaders and stay true to our country’s cause. During this part of his speech, the sentinels on the walkways occasionally paused and listened closely. We were quite worried that a careless remark might provoke their anger, so we warned him not to go too far. He responded that our guards couldn’t do much else, unless they decided to torture him, and that he intended to continue.”
“He touched on the fact that no clergyman had ever visited us; that this was probably owing to the fear of contagion; but it was much to be regretted that no one had ever come to afford a ray of hope, or to administer the Word of Life in that terrific abode; that if any Minister of the Gospel desired to do so, there could be no obstacles in the way, for that even David Sproat himself, bad as he was, would not dare to oppose it.
“He mentioned how no clergyman had ever come to see us; that this was likely due to the fear of infection; but it was really unfortunate that no one had ever come to bring a glimmer of hope or to share the Word of Life in such a dreadful place; that if any Minister of the Gospel wanted to do so, there would be no barriers, because even David Sproat himself, as bad as he was, wouldn't dare to stand in the way.”
“He closed with a merited tribute to the memory of our fellow-sufferers, who had already passed away. ‘The time,’ said he, ‘will come when their bones will be collected, when their rites of sepulchre will be performed, and a monument erected over the remains of those who have here suffered, the victims of barbarity, and who have died in vindication of the rights of man.’
“He ended with a well-deserved tribute to the memory of our fellow sufferers who had already passed away. ‘The time,’ he said, ‘will come when their bones will be gathered, when their burial rites will be held, and a monument will be built over the remains of those who have suffered here, the victims of cruelty, who died in defense of human rights.’”
“The remarks of our Orator were well adapted to our situation, and produced much effect on the prisoners, who at length began to accost him as Elder or Parson Cooper. But this he would not allow; and told us, if we would insist on giving him a title, we might call him Doctor, by which name he was ever afterwards saluted, so long as he remained among us.
“The speech from our Orator was just right for our situation and made a strong impression on the prisoners, who eventually started addressing him as Elder or Parson Cooper. However, he wouldn't accept that and told us that if we wanted to give him a title, we could call him Doctor, which is how he was referred to for the rest of the time he was with us.”
“He had been a prisoner for about the period of three months when one day the Commissary of Prisoners came on board, accompanied by a stranger, and inquired for Cooper, who having made his appearance, a letter was put in his hand, which he perused, and immediately after left the ship, without even going below for his clothing. While in the boat he waived his hand, and bade us be of good cheer. We could only return a mute farewell; and in a few minutes the boat had left the ship, and was on its way to New York.
“He had been a prisoner for about three months when one day the Prisoner Commissary came on board, accompanied by a stranger, and asked for Cooper. After he showed up, a letter was handed to him, which he read, and then he immediately left the ship without even going below to get his clothes. While in the boat, he waved his hand and told us to stay positive. We could only respond with a silent goodbye, and in a few minutes, the boat had left the ship and was heading to New York.”
“Thus we lost our Orator, for whom I had a very high regard, at the time, and whose character and manners have, ever since, been to me a subject of pleasing recollection.
“Thus we lost our speaker, for whom I had a great deal of respect back then, and whose character and demeanor have, ever since, been a source of fond memories for me.
“Various were the conjectures which the sudden manner of his departure caused on board. Some asserted that poor Cooper had drawn upon himself the vengeance of old Sproat, and that he had been carried on shore to be punished. No certain information was ever received respecting him, but I have always thought that he was a member of some highly influential and respectable family, and that his release had been effected through the agency of his friends. This was often done by the influence of the Royalists or Refugees of New York, who were sometimes the connections or personal friends of those who applied for their assistance in procuring the liberation of a son or a brother from captivity. Such kind offices were thus frequently rendered to those who had chosen opposite sides in the great revolutionary contest, and to whom, though directly opposed to themselves in political proceedings, they were willing to render every personal service in their power.”
“Different theories arose about his sudden departure while on board. Some claimed that poor Cooper had angered old Sproat and had been taken ashore for punishment. No definite information was ever received about him, but I’ve always believed he came from a prominent and respected family, and that his release was arranged through the help of his friends. This was often done with the backing of the Royalists or Refugees from New York, who were sometimes relatives or personal friends of those who sought their help to free a son or brother from captivity. Such assistance was frequently provided to those who had taken opposing sides in the major revolutionary conflict, and even though they were politically at odds, they were willing to offer any personal help they could.”
CHAPTER XXXIX. — FOURTH OF JULY ON THE JERSEY
A few days before the fourth of July we had made such preparations as our circumstances would admit for an observance of the anniversary of American Independence. We had procured some supplies with which to make ourselves merry on the occasion, and intended to spend the day in such innocent pastimes as our situation would afford, not dreaming that our proceeding would give umbrage to our keepers, as it was far from our intention to trouble or insult them. We thought that, though prisoners, we had a right, on that day at least, to sing and be merry. As soon as we were permitted to go on deck in the morning thirteen little national flags were displayed in a row on the boom. We were soon ordered by the guards to take them away; and as we neglected to obey the command, they triumphantly demolished, and trampled them under foot. Unfortunately for us our guards at that time were Scotch, who, next to the Refugees, were the objects of our greatest hatred; but their destruction of our flags was merely viewed in silence, with the contempt which it merited.
A few days before the Fourth of July, we made the best preparations we could for celebrating the anniversary of American Independence. We gathered some supplies to enjoy the occasion and planned to spend the day doing whatever light-hearted activities our situation allowed, not realizing that our actions would upset our guards since we had no intention of bothering or insulting them. We believed that, even as prisoners, we had the right to sing and celebrate on that day. As soon as we were allowed on deck in the morning, thirteen small national flags were lined up on the boom. We were soon ordered by the guards to remove them, and when we ignored the command, they proudly destroyed and trampled them underfoot. Unfortunately for us, our guards at that time were Scottish, who, next to the Refugees, were whom we hated the most; but their destruction of our flags was only met with silence and the contempt it deserved.
“During the time we remained on deck several patriotic songs were sung, and choruses repeated; but not a word was intentionally spoken to give offence to our guards. They were, nevertheless, evidently dissatisfied with our proceedings, as will soon appear. Their moroseness was a prelude to what was to follow. We were, in a short time, forbidden to pass along the common gangway, and every attempt to do so was repelled by the bayonet. Although thus incommoded our mirth still continued. Songs were still sung, accompanied by occasional cheers. Things thus proceeded until about four o’clock; when the guards were ordered out, and we received orders to descend between decks, where we were immediately driven, at the point of the bayonet.
“While we were on deck, several patriotic songs were sung and choruses were repeated, but we made sure not to say anything that might offend our guards. Still, it was clear they were unhappy with what we were doing, as you’ll see soon. Their grumpiness was just the beginning of what was to come. Before long, we were banned from using the main gangway, and any attempt to do so was met with a bayonet. Even with this hassle, our spirits stayed high. We continued to sing songs, punctuated by occasional cheers. This carried on until around four o'clock when the guards were ordered out, and we were told to go below decks, where we were quickly pushed down at the point of a bayonet.”
“After being thus sent below in the greatest confusion, at that early and unusual hour, and having heard the gratings closed and fastened above us, we supposed that the barbarous resentment of our guards was fully satisfied; but we were mistaken, for they had further vengeance in store, and merely waited for an opportunity to make us feel its weight.
“After being sent down in a state of total confusion at that early and strange hour, and hearing the grates close and lock above us, we thought that our guards' cruel anger was completely sated; but we were wrong, as they had more revenge planned and were just biding their time to make us feel its impact.”
“The prisoners continued their singing between decks, and were, of course, more noisy than usual, but forbore even under their existing temptations, to utter any insulting or aggravating expressions. At least, I heard nothing of the kind, unless our patriotic songs could be thus constructed. In the course of the evening we were ordered to desist from making any further noise. This order not being fully complied with, at about nine o’clock the gratings were removed, and the guards descended among us, with lanterns and drawn cutlasses in their hands. The poor, helpless prisoners retreated from the hatchways, as far as their crowded situation would permit, while their cowardly assailants followed as far as they dared, cutting and wounding every one within reach, and then ascended to the upper deck, exulting in the gratification of their revenge.
“The prisoners kept singing between decks and were, of course, louder than usual, but even with all that temptation, they refrained from saying anything insulting or provoking. At least, I didn’t hear anything like that, unless our patriotic songs could be interpreted that way. Later in the evening, we were ordered to stop making any more noise. Since that order wasn’t fully followed, around nine o’clock, the gratings were lifted, and the guards came down among us with lanterns and drawn cutlasses. The poor, helpless prisoners backed away from the hatchways as much as they could in their cramped space, while their cowardly attackers followed as far as they felt safe, hitting and injuring everyone within reach, then went back up to the upper deck, reveling in their satisfaction of revenge.”
“Many of the prisoners were wounded, but from the total darkness, neither their number, nor their situation could be ascertained; and, if this had been possible, it was not in the power of their compatriots to afford them the least relief. During the whole of that tragic night, their groans and lamentations were dreadful in the extreme. Being in the Gun-room I was at some distance from the immediate scene of this bloody outrage, but the distance was by no means far enough to prevent my hearing their continual cries from the extremity of pain, their appeals for assistance, and their curses upon the heads of their brutal assailants.
“Many of the prisoners were injured, but in the total darkness, it was impossible to determine their number or condition; and even if it were possible, their fellow countrymen couldn't offer them any help. Throughout that horrific night, their moans and cries were horrifying. Being in the Gun-room, I was somewhat removed from the immediate scene of this bloody attack, but that distance was not enough to stop me from hearing their constant cries of agony, their pleas for help, and their curses directed at their brutal attackers.”
“It had been the usual custom for each person to carry below, when he descended at sunset, a pint of water, to quench his thirst during the night. But, on this occasion, we had thus been driven to our dungeon three hours before the setting of the sun, and without our usual supply of water.
“It had been the usual custom for each person to take a pint of water down with them at sunset to quench their thirst during the night. But this time, we had been forced into our dungeon three hours before sunset and without our usual supply of water.”
“Of this night I cannot describe the horror. The day had been sultry, and the heat was extreme throughout the ship. The unusual number of hours during which we had been crowded together between decks; the foul atmosphere and sickening heat; the additional excitement and restlessness caused by the unwonted wanton attack which had been made; above all, the want of water, not a drop of which could be obtained during the whole night, to cool our parched lips; the imprecations of those who were half distracted with their burning thirst; the shrieks and wails of the wounded; the struggles and groans of the dying; together formed a combination of horrors which no pen can describe.
“On this night, I can’t put into words the horror we experienced. The day had been stifling, and the heat was intense all over the ship. The long hours we had spent crowded together below deck, the foul air and oppressive heat, the extra anxiety and restlessness from the unprovoked attack we faced; above all, the lack of water—there wasn’t a single drop available all night to quench our dry lips; the curses from those driven nearly mad by their unbearable thirst; the cries and moans of the injured; the struggles and groans of the dying—all created a horrifying mix that no one could adequately express.
“In the agonies of their sufferings the prisoners invited, and even challenged their inhuman guards to descend once more among them, but this they were prudent enough not to attempt.
“In their deep suffering, the prisoners called out and even dared their inhumane guards to come down among them again, but the guards wisely chose not to do so.”
“Their cries and supplications for water were terrible, and were of themselves sufficient to render sleep impossible. Oppressed with the heat, I found my way to the grating of the main hatchway, where on former nights I had frequently passed some time, for the benefit of the little current of air which circulated through the bars. I obtained a place on the larboard side of the hatchway, where I stood facing the East, and endeavored, as much as possible, to withdraw my attention from the terrible sounds below me, by watching, through the grating, the progress of the stars. I there spent hour after hour, in following with my eyes the motion of a particular star, as it rose and ascended until it passed over beyond my sight.
“Their cries and pleas for water were horrifying and enough to keep me awake. Overwhelmed by the heat, I made my way to the grating of the main hatchway, where I had often spent time on previous nights, enjoying the slight breeze that came through the bars. I found a spot on the left side of the hatchway, facing the East, and tried my best to tune out the terrible sounds below me by watching the stars through the grating. I spent hour after hour tracing the path of a particular star as it rose and moved until it disappeared from my view.”
“How I longed for the day to dawn! At length the morning light began to appear, but still our torments were increasing every moment. As the usual hour for us to ascend to the upper deck approached, the Working-party were mustered near the hatchway, and we were all anxiously waiting for the opportunity to cool our weary frames, to breathe for awhile the pure air, and, above all, to procure water to quench our intolerable thirst. The time arrived, but still the gratings were not removed. Hour after hour passed on, and still we were not released. Our minds were at length seized with horror, suspicious that our tyrants had determined to make a finishing stroke of their cruelty, and rid themselves of us altogether.
“How I longed for the day to break! Finally, the morning light began to show, but our suffering was getting worse by the minute. As the usual time for us to go up to the upper deck drew near, the working group gathered by the hatchway, and we were all anxiously waiting for a chance to cool our exhausted bodies, breathe some fresh air, and, above all, get water to quench our unbearable thirst. The moment arrived, but the grates still weren't removed. Hour after hour went by, and we still weren't set free. Our minds were soon filled with dread, fearing that our captors had decided to finalize their cruelty and get rid of us entirely.”
“It was not until ten o’clock in the forenoon that the gratings were at last removed. We hurried on deck and thronged to the water cask, which was completely exhausted before our thirst was allayed. So great was the struggle around the cask that the guards were again turned out to disperse the crowd.
“It wasn't until ten o'clock in the morning that the grates were finally removed. We rushed on deck and crowded around the water cask, which ran completely dry before our thirst was satisfied. The struggle around the cask was so intense that the guards had to come out again to break up the crowd.”
“In a few hours, however, we received a new supply of water, but it seemed impossible to allay our thirst, and the applications at the cask were incessant until sunset. Our rations were delivered to us, but of course long after the usual hour. During the whole day, however, no fire was kindled for cooking in the galley. All the food which we consumed that day we were obliged to swallow raw. Everything, indeed, had been entirely deranged by the events of the past night, and several days elapsed before order was restored. This was at last obtained by a change of the guard, who, to our great joy, were relieved by a party of Hessians. The average number who died during a period of 24 hours on board the Jersey was about six, [Footnote: This was in 1782. The mortality had been much greater in former years.] but on the morning of the fifth of July eight or ten corpses were found below. Many had been badly wounded, to whom, in the total darkness of the night, it was impossible for their companions to render any assistance; and even during the next day they received no attention, except that which was afforded by their fellow prisoners, who had nothing to administer to their companions, not even bandages for their wounds. I was not personally acquainted with any of those who died or were wounded on that night. No equal number had ever died in the same period of time since my confinement. This unusual mortality was of course caused by the increased sufferings of the night. Since that time I have often, while standing on the deck of a good ship under my command, and viewing the rising stars, thought upon the horrors of that night, when I stood watching their progress through the gratings of the Old Jersey, and when I now contrast my former wretchedness with my present situation, in the full enjoyment of liberty, health, and every earthly comfort, I cannot but muse upon the contrast, and bless the good and great Being from whom my comforts have been derived. I do not now regret my capture nor my sufferings, for the recollection of them has ever taught me how to enjoy my after life with a greater degree of contentment than I should, perhaps, have otherwise ever experienced.”
“In a few hours, we got a new supply of water, but it felt impossible to quench our thirst, and people kept crowding around the cask until sunset. Our rations were handed out, but, of course, it was much later than usual. Throughout the day, there was no fire lit for cooking in the galley. All the food we ate that day had to be consumed raw. Everything had been completely thrown off by the events of the previous night, and it took several days before order was restored. This finally happened when the guard changed, and we were relieved by a group of Hessians, which brought us great joy. On average, about six people died every 24 hours on board the Jersey, [Footnote: This was in 1782. The mortality had been much greater in previous years.] but on the morning of July 5th, eight to ten bodies were found below. Many had been severely wounded, and in the pitch-black darkness of the night, their companions couldn’t help them; even the next day, they received no care except from fellow prisoners, who had nothing to give, not even bandages for their injuries. I didn't personally know any of those who died or were wounded that night. No equal number had died in such a short time since I was confined. This unusual death toll was clearly due to the heightened suffering of the night. Since then, I’ve often, while standing on the deck of a good ship I command, looking at the rising stars, thought about the horrors of that night, when I watched the stars through the grates of the Old Jersey. Now, when I compare my past misery with my current state of freedom, health, and every earthly comfort, I can’t help but reflect on that contrast and be grateful to the good and great Being from whom my comforts come. I no longer regret my capture or suffering, as remembering them has taught me how to enjoy my life afterward with a deeper sense of contentment than I might have otherwise experienced.”
CHAPTER XL. — AN ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE
It had been for some time in contemplation among a few inmates of the Gun-room to make a desperate attempt to escape, by cutting a hole through the stern or counter of the ship. In order that their operations might proceed with even the least probability of success, it was absolutely necessary that but few of the prisoners should be admitted to the secret. At the same time it was impossible for them to make any progress in their labor unless they first confided their plan to all the other occupants of the Gun-room, which was accordingly done. In this part of the ship each mess was on terms of more or less intimacy with those whose little sleeping enclosures were immediately adjacent to their own, and the members of each mess frequently interchanged good offices with those in their vicinity, and borrowed or lent such little articles as they possessed, like the good housewives of a sociable neighborhood. I never knew any contention in this apartment, during the whole period of my confinement. Each individual in the Gun-room therefore was willing to assist his comrades, as far as he had the power to do so. When the proposed plan for escape was laid before us, although it met the disapprobation of by far the greater number, still we were all perfectly ready to assist those who thought it practicable. We, however, described to them the difficulties and dangers which must unavoidably attend their undertaking; the prospect of detection while making the aperture in the immediate vicinity of such a multitude of idle men, crowded together, a large proportion of whom were always kept awake by their restlessness and sufferings during the night; the little probability that they would be able to travel, undiscovered, on Long Island, even should they succeed in reaching the shore in safety; and above all, the almost absolute impossibility of obtaining food for their subsistence, as an application for that to our keepers would certainly lead to detection. But, notwithstanding all our arguments, a few of them remained determined to make the attempt. Their only reply to our reasoning was, that they must die if they remained, and that nothing worse could befall them if they failed in their undertaking.
For some time, a few inmates in the Gun-room had been considering a risky escape attempt by cutting a hole through the back of the ship. To increase their chances of success, it was crucial that only a few prisoners knew about the plan. However, they couldn't make any progress on their work without first sharing their idea with all the other occupants of the Gun-room, which they ultimately did. In this part of the ship, each group was on friendly terms with those in nearby sleeping areas, and the members often helped each other out, borrowing or lending small items like friendly neighbors do. During my entire time here, I never saw any arguments in this space. Everyone in the Gun-room was willing to help their fellow inmates as much as they could. When the escape plan was presented to us, most of us disapproved, but we were still ready to support those who believed it could work. We explained the difficulties and dangers they would face, including the risk of getting caught while making the hole with so many restless men around, many of whom were always awake at night due to discomfort. We also pointed out the slim chance they would be able to travel unnoticed on Long Island if they did make it to shore, and above all, the nearly impossible task of finding food since asking our guards would almost certainly lead to discovery. Despite all our arguments, a few of them remained determined to try. Their only response to our concerns was that they would die if they stayed, and that failing in their attempt couldn't result in anything worse.
“One of the most sanguine among the adventurers was a young man named Lawrence, the mate of a ship from Philadelphia. He was a member of the mess next to my own, and I had formed with him a very intimate acquaintance. He frequently explained his plans to me; and dwelt much on his hopes. But ardently as I desired to obtain my liberty, and great as were the exertions I could have made, had I seen any probability of gaining it, yet it was not my intention to join in this attempt. I nevertheless agreed to assist in the labor of cutting through the planks, and heartily wished, although I had no hope, that the enterprise might prove successful.
"One of the most optimistic adventurers was a young man named Lawrence, the first mate of a ship from Philadelphia. He was in the same dining group as me, and I had become quite close with him. He often shared his plans with me and talked a lot about his hopes. But even though I desperately wanted to gain my freedom and could have worked hard if I thought there was any chance of achieving it, I didn’t intend to join in this attempt. However, I did agree to help with the work of cutting through the planks and sincerely wished, even though I had no real hope, that the effort might succeed."
“The work was accordingly commenced, and the laborers concealed, by placing a blanket between them and the prisoners without. The counter of the ship was covered with hard oak plank, four inches thick; and through this we undertook to cut an opening sufficiently large for a man to descend; and to do this with no other tools than our jack knives and a single gimlet. All the occupants of the Gun-room assisted in this labor in rotation; some in confidence that the plan was practicable, and the rest for amusement, or for the sake of being employed. Some one of our number was constantly at work, and we thus continued, wearing a hole through the hard planks, from seam to seam, until at length the solid oak was worn away piecemeal, and nothing remained but a thin sheathing on the outside which could be cut away at any time in a few minutes, whenever a suitable opportunity should occur for making the bold attempt to leave the ship.
The work began, and the laborers were hidden by placing a blanket between them and the prisoners outside. The ship's counter was covered with hard oak planks that were four inches thick, and we set out to cut an opening large enough for a person to get through, using nothing but our jackknives and a single gimlet. Everyone in the Gun-room took turns helping with this task; some believed the plan could work, while others participated for fun or to keep busy. Someone from our group was always working, and we kept at it, wearing a hole through the tough planks from one seam to the other, until eventually the solid oak was worn away piece by piece, leaving only a thin layer on the outside that could be cut through in just a few minutes whenever the right opportunity arose to make our daring escape from the ship.
“It had been previously agreed that those who should descend through the aperture should drop into the water, and there remain until all those among the inmates of the Gun-room who chose to make the attempt could join them; and that the whole band of adventurers should then swim together to the shore, which was about a quarter of a mile from the ship.
“It had been decided that anyone who went through the opening would drop into the water and stay there until everyone in the Gun-room who wanted to try could join them; and that the whole group of adventurers would then swim together to the shore, which was about a quarter of a mile from the ship."
“A proper time at length arrived. On a very dark and rainy night, the exterior sheathing was cut away; and at midnight four of our number having disencumbered themselves of their clothes and tied them across their shoulders, were assisted through the opening, and dropped one after another into the water.
“A proper time finally came. On a very dark and rainy night, the outer covering was cut away; and at midnight, four of us, having shed our clothes and tied them across our shoulders, were helped through the opening and dropped one after another into the water.
“Ill-fated men! Our guards had long been acquainted with the enterprise. But instead of taking any measures to prevent it, they had permitted us to go on with our labor, keeping a vigilant watch for the moment of our projected escape, in order to gratify their bloodthirsty wishes. No other motive than this could have prompted them to the course which they pursued. A boat was in waiting under the ship’s quarter, manned with rowers and a party of the guards. They maintained a profound silence after hearing the prisoners drop from the opening, until having ascertained that no more would probably descend, they pursued the swimmers, whose course they could easily follow by the sparkling of the water,—an effect always produced by the agitation of the waves in a stormy night.
“Ill-fated men! Our guards had known about the plan for a long time. But instead of doing anything to stop us, they let us continue our work, watching closely for the moment we would try to escape, so they could satisfy their thirst for blood. No other reason could explain their actions. A boat was waiting under the ship’s side, with rowers and a group of guards. They stayed completely silent after hearing the prisoners drop from the opening, and once they confirmed no more would likely follow, they chased after the swimmers, whose path was easy to track by the sparkling of the water—a result always caused by the waves stirring on a stormy night.”
“We were all profoundly silent in the Gun-room, after the departure of our companions, and in anxious suspense as to the issue of the adventure. In a few minutes we were startled by the report of a gun, which was instantly succeeded by a quick and scattering fire of musketry. In the darkness of the night, we could not see the unfortunate victims, but could distinctly hear their shrieks and cries for mercy.
“We were all deeply quiet in the Gun-room after our friends left, anxiously waiting to see how the adventure would turn out. A few minutes later, we were shocked by the sound of a gun, quickly followed by a rapid and scattered firing of muskets. In the dark of night, we couldn't see the unfortunate victims, but we could clearly hear their screams and pleas for mercy.”
“The noise of the firing had alarmed the prisoners generally, and the report of the attempted escape and its defeat ran like wildfire through the gloomy and crowded dungeons of the hulk, and produced much commotion among the whole body of prisoners. In a few moments, the gratings were raised, and the guards descended, bearing a naked and bleeding man, whom they placed in one of the bunks, and having left a piece of burning candle by his side, they again ascended to the deck, and secured the gratings.
“The sound of gunfire had startled the prisoners, and the news of the escape attempt and its failure spread like wildfire through the dark and overcrowded dungeons of the ship, causing a lot of commotion among all the inmates. In just a few moments, the grates were lifted, and the guards came down, carrying a naked and bleeding man, whom they placed in one of the bunks. After leaving a burning candle beside him, they went back up to the deck and secured the grates.”
“Information of this circumstance soon reached the Gun-room; and myself, with several others of our number, succeeded in making our way through the crowd to the bunks. The wounded man was my friend, Lawrence. He was severely injured in many places, and one of his arms had been nearly severed from his body by the stroke of a cutlass. This, he said, was done in wanton barbarity, while he was crying for mercy, with his hand on the gunwale of the boat. He was too much exhausted to answer any of our questions; and uttered nothing further, except a single inquiry respecting the fate of Nelson, one of his fellow adventurers. This we could not answer. Indeed, what became of the rest we never knew. They were probably all murdered in the water. This was the first time that I had ever seen a light between decks. The piece of candle had been left by the side of the bunk, in order to produce an additional effect upon the prisoners. Many had been suddenly awakened from their slumbers, and had crowded round the bunk where the sufferer lay. The effect of the partial light upon his bleeding and naked limbs, and upon the pale and haggard countenances, and tattered garments of the wild and crowded groups by whom he was surrounded, was horrid beyond description. We could render the sufferer but little assistance, being only able to furnish him with a few articles of apparel, and to bind a handkerchief around his head. His body was completely covered, and his hair filled with clotted blood; we had not the means of washing the gore from his wounds during the night. We had seen many die, but to view this wretched man expire in that situation, where he had been placed beyond the reach of surgical aid, merely to strike us with terror, was dreadful.
“Word of this situation quickly reached the Gun-room, and I, along with a few others, managed to push through the crowd to the bunks. The wounded man was my friend, Lawrence. He had severe injuries all over, and one of his arms was nearly cut off by a sword. He said this was done in a senseless act of brutality while he begged for mercy with his hand on the side of the boat. He was too exhausted to respond to our questions and only asked about the fate of Nelson, one of his companions. We couldn’t answer that. In fact, we never found out what happened to the others. They were probably all killed in the water. This was the first time I had ever seen light between the decks. A candle had been left by the bunk to create an additional effect on the prisoners. Many had been suddenly awakened from their sleep and gathered around the bunk where the injured man lay. The partial light on his bleeding and exposed limbs, along with the pale, haggard faces and tattered clothes of the wild and crowded groups surrounding him, was horrifying beyond words. We could only offer the sufferer minimal help—just a few pieces of clothing and a handkerchief to wrap around his head. His body was completely covered and his hair matted with coagulated blood; we had no way to clean the blood from his wounds during the night. We had seen many die, but witnessing this poor man die in such a state, where he was beyond the reach of medical help, just to instill fear in us, was terrifying.”
“The gratings were not removed at the usual hour in the morning, but we were all kept below until ten o’clock. This mode of punishment had now become habitual with our keepers, and we were all frequently detained between decks until a late hour in the day, in revenge for the most trifling occasion. This cruelty never failed to produce the torments arising from heat and thirst, with all their attendant miseries.
“The grates weren’t taken off at the usual time in the morning, and we were all kept below until ten o’clock. This way of punishing us had become routine for our keepers, and we were often held between decks until later in the day, sometimes for the smallest reasons. This cruelty always resulted in the suffering that comes from heat and thirst, along with all their associated miseries.”
“The immediate purpose of our tyrants having been answered by leaving Mr. Lawrence below in that situation they promised in the morning that he should have the assistance of a surgeon, but that promise was not fulfilled. The prisoners rendered him every attention in their power, but in vain. Mortification soon commenced; he became delirious and died.
“The immediate purpose of our oppressors having been achieved by leaving Mr. Lawrence in that condition, they promised in the morning that he would have the help of a surgeon, but that promise was not kept. The prisoners did everything they could to help him, but it was useless. Gangrene soon set in; he became delirious and died.”
“No inquiry was made by our keepers respecting his situation. They evidently left him thus to suffer, in order that the sight of his agonies might deter the rest of the prisoners from following his example.
“No inquiry was made by our keepers about his situation. They clearly left him to suffer like this to ensure that the sight of his pain would discourage the other prisoners from following his example.
“We received not the least reprimand for this transaction. The aperture was again filled up with plank and made perfectly secure, and no similar attempt to escape was made,—at least so long as I remained on board.
“We didn't get any reprimand for this transaction. The opening was once again covered with a plank and made completely secure, and no similar attempt to escape was made—at least as long as I stayed on board."
“It was always in our power to knock down the guards and throw them overboard, but this would have been of no avail. If we had done so, and had effected our escape to Long Island, it would have been next to impossible for us to have proceeded any further among the number of troops there quartered. Of these there were several regiments, and among them the regiment of Refugees before mentioned, who were vigilant in the highest degree, and would have been delighted at the opportunity of apprehending and returning us to our dungeons.
“It was always within our ability to overpower the guards and toss them overboard, but that wouldn’t have helped us. If we had done that and managed to escape to Long Island, it would have been nearly impossible for us to move forward with so many troops stationed there. There were several regiments, including the regiment of Refugees mentioned earlier, who were extremely watchful and would have relished the chance to capture us and send us back to our cells.”
“There were, however, several instances of individuals making their escape. One in particular, I well recollect,—James Pitcher, one of the crew of the Chance, was placed on the sick list and conveyed to Blackwell’s Island. He effected his escape from thence to Long Island; from whence, after having used the greatest precaution, he contrived to cross the Sound, and arrived safe at home. He is now one of the three survivors of the crew of the Chance.”
“There were, however, several instances of individuals managing to escape. One in particular that I remember well—James Pitcher, a crew member of the Chance—was put on the sick list and sent to Blackwell’s Island. He successfully escaped from there to Long Island; from there, after being extremely careful, he managed to cross the Sound and returned home safely. He is now one of the three survivors from the crew of the Chance.”
CHAPTER XLI. — THE MEMORIAL TO GENERAL WASHINGTON
“The body maddened by the spirit’s pain; The wild, wild working of the breast and brain; The haggard eye, that, horror widened, sees Death take the start of hunger and disease. Here, such were seen and heard;—so close at hand, A cable’s length had reached them from the land; Yet farther off than ocean ever bore;— Eternity between them and the shore!” —W. Read.
“The body driven crazy by the spirit's pain; The intense turmoil of the heart and mind; The weary eye, which, filled with horror, watches Death begin to overtake hunger and sickness. Here, they were seen and heard—close enough, A cable’s length away from the land; Yet farther off than the farthest ocean ever was— Eternity lying between them and the shore!” —W. Read.
“Notwithstanding the destroying pestilence which was now raging to a degree hitherto unknown on board, new companies of victims were continually arriving; so that, although the mortality was very great, our numbers were increasing daily. Thus situated, and seeing no prospect of our liberty by exchange, we began to despair, and to believe that our certain fate was rapidly approaching.
“Despite the deadly plague now affecting us like never before, new groups of victims kept arriving; so even though the death toll was extremely high, our numbers were still growing every day. In this situation, with no hope of being freed through exchange, we started to lose hope and believed that our inevitable fate was coming quickly.”
“One expedient was at length proposed among us and adopted. We petitioned General Clinton, who was then in command of the British forces at New York, for leave to transmit a Memorial to General Washington, describing our deplorable situation, and requesting his interference in our behalf. We further desired that our Memorial might be examined by the British General, and, if approved by him, that it might be carried by one of our own number to General Washington. Our petition was laid before the British commander and was granted by the Commissary of Prisoners. We received permission to choose three from our number, to whom was promised a pass-port, with leave to proceed immediately on their embassy.
“One solution was finally suggested among us and accepted. We asked General Clinton, who was in charge of the British forces in New York at the time, for permission to send a message to General Washington, explaining our dire situation and asking for his help. We also requested that our message be reviewed by the British General, and if he approved it, that one of us could take it to General Washington. Our request was presented to the British commander and was approved by the Commissary of Prisoners. We were allowed to choose three from our group, who were promised a pass and permission to set out on their mission right away.”
“Our choice was accordingly made, and I had the satisfaction to find that two of those elected were from among the former officers of the Chance, Captain Aborn and our Surgeon, Mr. Joseph Bowen.
“Our choice was made, and I was pleased to find that two of those elected were former officers of the Chance, Captain Aborn and our Surgeon, Mr. Joseph Bowen.
“The Memorial was soon completed and signed in the name of all the prisoners, by a Committee appointed for that purpose. It contained an account of the extreme wretchedness of our condition, and stated that although we were sensible that the subject was one over which General Washington had no direct control, as it was not usual for soldiers to be exchanged for seamen, and his authority not extending to the Marine Department of the American service; yet still, although it might not be in his power to effect an exchange, we hoped he would be able to devise some means to lighten or relieve our sufferings.
“The Memorial was quickly completed and signed on behalf of all the prisoners by a Committee chosen for this purpose. It included a description of the extreme misery of our situation and stated that, although we understood that this was an issue General Washington had no direct control over—since it wasn’t common for soldiers to be exchanged for sailors, and his authority didn’t cover the Marine Department of the American service—still, even if it wasn’t within his power to arrange an exchange, we hoped he could come up with some way to ease or alleviate our suffering.”
“Our messengers were further charged with a verbal commission to General Washington, which, for obvious reasons, was not included in the written Memorial. They were directed to state, in a manner more circumstantial than we had dared to write, the peculiar horrors of our situation; to discover the miserable food and putrid water on which we were doomed to subsist; and finally to assure the General that in case he could effect our release, we would agree to enter the American service as soldiers, and remain during the war. Thus instructed our messengers departed.
“Our messengers were also given a verbal mission to General Washington, which, for obvious reasons, wasn't included in the written Memorial. They were instructed to explain, in more detail than we had dared to write, the specific horrors of our situation; to reveal the awful food and filthy water that we were forced to survive on; and finally to assure the General that if he could secure our release, we would agree to join the American army as soldiers and serve for the duration of the war. With these instructions, our messengers set off.”
“We waited in alternate hope and fear, the event of their mission. Most of our number, who were natives of the Eastern States, were strongly impressed with the idea that some means would be devised for our relief, after such a representation of our condition should be made. This class of the prisoners, indeed, felt most interested in the success of the application; for many of the sufferers appeared to give themselves but little trouble respecting it, and some among the foreigners did not commonly know that such an appeal had been made, or that it had even been in contemplation. The long endurance of their privations had rendered them almost indifferent to their fate, and they appeared to look forward to death as the only probable termination of their captivity.
“We waited with mixed feelings of hope and fear for the outcome of their mission. Most of us, who were from the Eastern States, were strongly convinced that some way would be found to help us after such a representation of our situation was made. This group of prisoners was particularly invested in the success of the appeal; many of the others seemed to care little about it, and some of the foreigners didn’t even know that such an appeal had been made or that it was being considered. The long suffering through their hardships had made them almost indifferent to their fate, and they seemed to expect death as the only likely end to their captivity.”
“In a few days our messengers returned to New York, with a letter from General Washington, addressed to the Committee of Prisoners who had signed the Memorial. The prisoners were all summoned to the Spar-deck where this letter was read. Its purport was as follows:—That he had perused our communication, and had received, with due consideration, the account which our messengers had laid before him; that he viewed our situation with a high degree of interest, and that although our application, as we had stated, was made in relation to a subject over which he had no direct control, yet that it was his intention to lay our Memorial before Congress; and that, in the mean time, we might be assured that no exertions on his part should be spared which could tend to a mitigation of our sufferings.
“In a few days, our messengers returned to New York with a letter from General Washington addressed to the Committee of Prisoners who had signed the Memorial. The prisoners were all called to the Spar-deck where this letter was read. Its main points were as follows: He had read our message and carefully considered the information our messengers provided; he was very interested in our situation. Although our request, as we had mentioned, involved a topic he couldn't directly control, he intended to present our Memorial to Congress. In the meantime, we could be assured that he would do everything possible to ease our suffering.”
“He observed to our messengers, during their interview, that our long detention in confinement was owing to a combination of circumstances, against which it was very difficult, if not impossible, to provide. That, in the first place, but little exertion was made on the part of our countrymen to secure and detain their British prisoners for the sake of exchange, many of the British seamen being captured by privateers, on board which, he understood, it was a common practice for them to enter as seamen; and that when this was not the case, they were usually set at liberty as soon as the privateers arrived in port; as neither the owners, nor the town or State where they were landed, would be at the expense of their confinement and maintenance; and that the officers of the General Government only took charge of those seamen who were captured by the vessels in public service. All which circumstances combined to render the number of prisoners, at all times, by far too small for a regular and equal exchange.
“He pointed out to our messengers during their meeting that our long time in confinement was due to a mix of circumstances that were very difficult, if not impossible, to deal with. First, he noted that our countrymen made little effort to secure and hold onto their British prisoners for the sake of exchange, as many British sailors were captured by privateers, on which it was understood that they commonly joined as crew members. When that wasn't the case, they were usually freed as soon as the privateers docked, since neither the owners nor the town or state where they were landed wanted to bear the costs of their detention and care. Additionally, the officers of the General Government only took charge of seamen who were captured by vessels in public service. All of these factors combined led to the number of prisoners being far too small for a regular and fair exchange."
“General Washington also transmitted to our Committee copies of letters which he had sent to General Clinton and to the Commissary of Prisoners, which were also read to us. He therein expressed an ardent desire that a general exchange of prisoners might be effected; and if this could not be accomplished, he wished that something might be done to lessen the weight of our sufferings, that, if it was absolutely necessary that we should be confined on the water, he desired that we might at least be removed to clean ships. He added if the Americans should be driven to the necessity of placing the British prisoners in situations similar to our own, similar effects must be the inevitable results; and that he therefore hoped they would afford us better treatment from motives of humanity. He concluded by saying, that as a correspondence on the subject had thus begun between them, he ardently wished it might eventually result in the liberation of the unfortunate men whose situation had called for its commencement.
“General Washington also sent our Committee copies of letters he had written to General Clinton and the Commissary of Prisoners, which were read to us. He expressed a strong desire for a general exchange of prisoners; and if that couldn’t happen, he hoped something could be done to ease our suffering. If we had to be confined on the water, he wanted us to at least be moved to clean ships. He added that if the Americans were forced to place British prisoners in similar situations to ours, the same negative outcomes would inevitably follow; and therefore, he hoped they would treat us better out of humanity. He concluded by saying that since a correspondence on the matter had begun between them, he sincerely hoped it would eventually lead to the release of the unfortunate men whose situation prompted its start.”
“Our three messengers did not return on board as prisoners, but were all to remain on parole at Flatbush, on Long Island.
“Our three messengers didn’t return on board as prisoners, but were all to stay on parole at Flatbush, on Long Island."
“We soon found an improvement in our fare. The bread which we received was of a better quality, and we were furnished with butter, instead of rancid oil. An awning was provided, and a wind-sail furnished to conduct fresh air between the decks during the day. But of this we were always deprived at night, when we most needed it, as the gratings must always be fastened over the hatchway and I presume that our keepers were fearful if it was allowed to run, we might use it as a means of escape.
“We quickly noticed an upgrade in our meals. The bread we got was of better quality, and we were given butter instead of rancid oil. They set up an awning and provided a wind-sail to bring fresh air between the decks during the day. However, we were always shut off from this at night, when we needed it the most, as the grates had to be secured over the hatchway. I assume our guards were worried that if it was left open, we could use it to escape.”
“We were, however, obliged to submit to all our privations, consoling ourselves only with the faint hope that the favorable change in our situation, which we had observed for the last few days, might lead to something still more beneficial, although we saw little prospect of escape from the raging pestilence, except through the immediate interposition of divine Providence, or by a removal from the scene of contagion.”
“We had to deal with all our hardships, comforting ourselves with the slight hope that the positive changes in our situation over the past few days might lead to something even better, even though we saw little chance of escaping the devastating plague, except through direct intervention from divine Providence or by leaving the area of infection.”
Note. From the New Jersey Gazette, July 24th, 1782. “New London. July 21st. We are informed that Sir Guy Carleton has visited all the prison ships at New York, minutely examined into the situation of the prisoners, and expressed his intention of having them better provided for. That they were to be landed on Blackwell’s Island, in New York harbour, in the daytime, during the hot season.”
Note. From the New Jersey Gazette, July 24th, 1782. “New London. July 21st. We've heard that Sir Guy Carleton has checked out all the prison ships in New York, thoroughly looked into the conditions of the prisoners, and said he wants to make sure they're taken care of better. They were set to be brought to Blackwell’s Island in New York harbor during the day, because of the heat this season.”
CHAPTER XLII. — THE EXCHANGE
“Soon after Captain Aborn had been permitted to go to Long Island on his parole, he sent a message on board the Jersey, informing us that his parole had been extended so far as to allow him to return home, but that he should visit us previous to his departure. He requested our First Lieutenant, Mr. John Tillinghast, to provide a list of the names of those captured in the Chance who had died, and also a list of the survivors, noting where each survivor was then confined, whether on board the Jersey, or one of the Hospital ships.
“Soon after Captain Aborn was allowed to go to Long Island on his parole, he sent a message to the Jersey, letting us know that his parole had been extended to permit him to return home, but he wanted to visit us before he left. He asked our First Lieutenant, Mr. John Tillinghast, to compile a list of the names of those captured in the Chance who had died, as well as a list of the survivors, indicating where each survivor was currently held, whether on board the Jersey or on one of the hospital ships.”
“He also requested that those of our number who wished to write to their friends at home, would have their letters ready for delivery to him, whenever he should come on board. The occupants of the Gun-room, and such of the other prisoners as could procure the necessary materials were, therefore, soon busily engaged in writing as particular descriptions of our situation as they thought it prudent to do, without the risk of the destruction of the letters; as we were always obliged to submit our writing for inspection previous to its being allowed to pass from the ship. We, however, afterwards regretted that on this occasion our descriptions were not more minute, as these letters were not examined.
“He also asked those of us who wanted to write to our friends back home to have their letters ready for him whenever he came on board. The people in the Gun-room, along with any other prisoners who could get the materials, quickly got to work writing as detailed accounts of our situation as they thought was safe, without risking the letters being destroyed; we always had to submit our writing for inspection before it was allowed to leave the ship. However, we later wished that our accounts had been more detailed, as these letters were not inspected.”
“The next day Captain Aborn came on board, accompanied by several other persons, who had also been liberated on parole; but they came no nearer to the prisoners than the head of the gangway-ladder, and passed through the door of the barricade to the Quarter-deck. This was perhaps a necessary precaution against the contagion, as they were more liable to be affected by it than if they had always remained on board; but we were much disappointed at not having an opportunity to speak to them. Our letters were delivered to Captain Aborn by our Lieutenant, through whom he sent us assurances of his determination to do everything in his power for our relief, and that if a sufficient number of British prisoners could be procured, every survivor of his vessel’s crew should be exchanged; and if this could not be effected we might depend upon receiving clothing and such other necessary articles as could be sent for our use.
The next day, Captain Aborn came on board with several others who had also been released on parole. However, they stayed at the top of the gangway ladder and went through the door of the barricade to the Quarterdeck. This was probably a necessary precaution against infection, as they were more at risk of catching something than if they had stayed on board the whole time; but we were really disappointed that we didn’t get a chance to talk to them. Our letters were handed to Captain Aborn by our Lieutenant, who conveyed his commitment to do everything possible for our relief. He assured us that if enough British prisoners could be secured, every survivor of his ship's crew would be exchanged; and if that couldn't happen, we could expect to receive clothing and other essential items that could be sent for our use.
“About this time some of the sick were sent on shore on Blackwell’s Island. This was considered a great indulgence. I endeavored to obtain leave to join them by feigning sickness, but did not succeed.
“About this time, some of the sick were sent ashore to Blackwell’s Island. This was seen as a big privilege. I tried to get permission to join them by pretending to be sick, but I didn’t succeed.”
“The removal of the sick was a great relief to us, as the air was less foul between decks, and we had more room for motion. Some of the bunks were removed, and the sick were carried on shore as soon as their condition was known. Still, however, the pestilence did not abate on board, as the weather was extremely warm. In the daytime the heat was excessive, but at night it was intolerable.
“The removal of the sick was a huge relief for us, as the air was less stinky between decks, and we had more space to move around. Some of the bunks were taken out, and the sick were taken ashore as soon as we knew their condition. Yet, the plague didn’t let up on board, as the weather was really hot. During the day, the heat was unbearable, but at night it was insufferable."
“But we lived on hope, knowing that, in all probability, our friends at home had ere then been apprised of our condition, and that some relief might perhaps be soon afforded us.
“But we lived on hope, knowing that, most likely, our friends back home had already been informed of our situation, and that some help might soon be on the way.”
“Such was our situation when, one day, a short time before sunset, we described a sloop approaching us, with a white flag at her mast-head, and knew, by that signal, that she was a Cartel, and from the direction in which she came supposed her to be from some of the Eastern States. She did not approach near enough to satisfy our curiosity, until we were ordered below for the night.
“Such was our situation when, one day, not long before sunset, we saw a sloop coming toward us, flying a white flag at her masthead, and we knew by that signal that she was a Cartel. Based on the direction she was coming from, we guessed she was from one of the Eastern States. She didn’t come close enough to satisfy our curiosity until we were ordered below for the night.”
“Long were the hours of the night to the survivors of our crew. Slight as was the foundation on which our hopes had been raised, we had clung to them as our last resource. No sooner were the gratings removed in the morning than we were all upon deck, gazing at the Cartel. Her deck was crowded with men, whom we supposed to be British prisoners. In a few moments they began to enter the Commissary’s boats, and proceeded to New York.
“Long were the hours of the night for the survivors of our crew. Even though the foundation for our hopes was flimsy, we held onto them as our last chance. As soon as the grates were taken off in the morning, we were all on deck, staring at the Cartel. Her deck was packed with men, whom we guessed were British prisoners. In a few moments, they started to get into the Commissary’s boats and headed to New York."
“In the afternoon a boat from the Cartel came alongside the hulk, having on board the Commissary of Prisoners, and by his side sat our townsman, Captain William Corey, who came on board with the joyful information that the sloop was from Providence with English prisoners to be exchanged for the crew of the Chance. The number which she had brought was forty, being more than sufficient to redeem every survivor of our crew then on board the Jersey.
“In the afternoon, a boat from the Cartel approached the hulk, carrying the Commissary of Prisoners, and next to him sat our local guy, Captain William Corey, who came on board with the great news that the sloop was from Providence and had English prisoners to be exchanged for the crew of the Chance. The number of prisoners she brought was forty, which was more than enough to free every survivor of our crew currently on board the Jersey."
“I immediately began to prepare for my departure. Having placed the few articles of clothing which I possessed in a bag (for, by one of our By-laws, no prisoner, when liberated, could remove his chest) I proceeded to dispose of my other property on board, and after having made sundry small donations of less value, I concluded by giving my tin kettle to one of my friends, and to another the remnant of my cleft of firewood.
“I quickly started getting ready to leave. I put the few clothes I had into a bag (because, according to one of our rules, no prisoner could take their chest when they were released) and then I took care of my other things on the ship. After making a few small donations of lesser value, I wrapped things up by giving my tin kettle to one friend and the leftover pieces of my firewood to another.”
“I then hurried to the upper deck, in order to be ready to answer to my name, well knowing that I should hear no second call, and that no delay would be allowed.
“I then rushed to the upper deck, ready to respond when my name was called, fully aware that there would be no second call and that no delays would be permitted."
“The Commissary and Captain Corey were standing together on the Quarter-deck; and as the list of names was read, our Lieutenant, Mr. Tillinghast, was directed to say whether the person called was one of the crew of the Chance. As soon as this assurance was given, the individual was ordered to pass down the Accommodation ladder into the boat. Cheerfully was the word ‘Here!’ responded by each survivor as his name was called. My own turn at length came, and the Commissary pointed to the boat. I never moved with a lighter step, for that moment was the happiest of my life. In the excess and overflowing of my joy, I even forgot, for awhile, the detestable character of the Commissary himself, and even, Heaven forgive me! bestowed a bow upon him as I passed.
“The Commissary and Captain Corey were standing together on the quarterdeck, and as the list of names was read, our Lieutenant, Mr. Tillinghast, was asked to confirm whether the person called was part of the crew of the Chance. Once that confirmation was given, the person was instructed to go down the accommodation ladder into the boat. Each survivor cheerfully responded with 'Here!' as their name was called. Eventually, my turn came, and the Commissary pointed to the boat. I moved with a lighter step than ever, as that moment was the happiest of my life. In the overwhelming joy I felt, I even forgot, for a while, the awful nature of the Commissary himself and, Heaven forgive me! I even gave him a nod as I passed.”
“We took our stations in the boat in silence. No congratulations were heard among us. Our feelings were too deep for utterance. For my own part, I could not refrain from bursting into tears of joy.
“We took our places in the boat in silence. No congratulations were exchanged among us. Our emotions were too strong for words. As for me, I couldn't help but break into tears of joy.”
“Still there were moments when it seemed impossible that we were in reality without the limits of the Old Jersey. We dreaded the idea that some unforeseen event might still detain us; and shuddered with the apprehension that we might yet be returned to our dungeons.
“Still, there were moments when it felt impossible that we were really outside the confines of the Old Jersey. We feared the thought that some unexpected event might still hold us back; and we shuddered with the worry that we could be sent back to our prisons.”
“When the Cartel arrived the surviving number of our crew on board the Old Jersey was but thirty-five. This fact being well known to Mr. Tillinghast, and finding that the Cartel had brought forty prisoners, he allowed five of our comrades in the Gun-room to answer to the names of the same number of our crew who had died; and having disguised them in the garb of common seamen, they passed unsuspected.
“When the Cartel arrived, only thirty-five of our crew were still on board the Old Jersey. Mr. Tillinghast was well aware of this situation, and noticing that the Cartel had brought forty prisoners, he let five of our comrades in the Gun-room take the names of the same number of our crew who had died. He dressed them up in the clothes of ordinary sailors, and they went unnoticed.”
“It was nearly sunset when we had all arrived on board the Cartel. No sooner had the exchange been completed than the Commissary left us, with our prayers that we might never behold him more. I then cast my eyes towards the hulk, as the horizontal rays of the sunset glanced on her polluted sides, where, from the bend upwards, filth of every description had been permitted to accumulate for years; and the feeling of disgust which the sight occasioned was indescribable. The multitude on her Spar-deck and Fore-castle were in motion, and in the act of descending for the night; presenting the same appearance that met my sight when, nearly five months before, I had, at the same hour, approached her as a prisoner.”
“It was almost sunset when we all boarded the Cartel. As soon as the exchange was done, the Commissary left us, and we hoped we would never see him again. I looked at the hulk, with the setting sun’s rays reflecting off its dirty sides, where years of various filth had built up from the bend upward. The feeling of disgust the sight gave me was overwhelming. The crowd on the Spar-deck and Fore-castle was moving and getting ready for the night, looking just like when I had approached her as a prisoner nearly five months earlier at the same time.”
It appears that many other seamen on board the Jersey and the Hospital ships were exchanged as a good result of the Memorial addressed to General Washington. An issue of the Royal Gazette of New York, published on the 17th of July, 1782, contains the following statement:
It seems that a lot of other sailors on the Jersey and the hospital ships were swapped as a positive outcome from the memorial sent to General Washington. An edition of the Royal Gazette of New York, published on July 17, 1782, includes the following statement:
“The following is a Statement of the Navy Prisoners who have, within the last few days, been exchanged and brought to this city, viz:
“The following is a statement of the Navy prisoners who have been exchanged and brought to this city in the last few days, namely:
“From Boston, 102 British Seamen. “From Rhode Island, 40 British Seamen. “From New London, Conn., 84 British Seamen. “From Baltimore, Md, 23 British Seamen. “Total 249.
“From Boston, 102 British seamen. “From Rhode Island, 40 British seamen. “From New London, Conn., 84 British seamen. “From Baltimore, Md., 23 British seamen. “Total 249.
“The exertions of those American Captains who published to the world in this Gazette, dated July 3rd, the real state and condition of their countrymen, prisoners here, and the true cause of their durance and sufferings, we are informed was greatly conducive to the bringing this exchange into a happy effect. We have only to lament that the endeavors of those who went, for the same laudable purpose, to Philadelphia, have not hitherto been so fortunate.”
“The efforts of those American Captains who shared with the world in this Gazette, dated July 3rd, the actual situation and condition of their fellow countrymen, who are prisoners here, as well as the real reasons for their captivity and suffering, we are told played a significant role in successfully achieving this exchange. We can only regret that the attempts of those who went to Philadelphia for the same noble purpose have not been as successful so far.”
This was published before the release of Captain Dring and the crew of the Chance, and shows that they were not the only prisoners who were so happy as to be exchanged that summer. It is possible that the crew of the Chance is referred to in this extract from the Pennsylvania Packet, Philadelphia, Thursday, August 15th, 1782: “Providence, July 27th. Sunday last a flag of truce returned here from New York, and brought 39 prisoners.”
This was published before the release of Captain Dring and the crew of the Chance, showing that they weren't the only prisoners who were fortunate enough to be exchanged that summer. It's possible that the crew of the Chance is mentioned in this excerpt from the Pennsylvania Packet, Philadelphia, Thursday, August 15th, 1782: “Providence, July 27th. Last Sunday a flag of truce returned here from New York and brought 39 prisoners.”
CHAPTER XLIII. — THE CARTEL—CAPTAIN DRING’S NARRATIVE (CONTINUED)
“On his arrival in Providence Captain Aborn had lost no time in making the details of our sufferings publicly known; and a feeling of deep commiseration was excited among our fellow citizens. Messrs. Clarke and Nightingale, the former owners of the Chance, in conjunction with other gentlemen, expressed their determination to spare no exertion or expense necessary to procure our liberty. It was found that forty British prisoners were at that time in Boston. These were immediately procured, and marched to Providence, where a sloop owned and commanded by a Captain Gladding of Bristol was chartered, to proceed with the prisoners forthwith to New York, that they might be exchanged for an equal number of our crew. Captain Corey was appointed as an Agent to effect the exchange, and to receive us from the Jersey; and having taken on board a supply of good provisions and water, he hastened to our relief. He received much assistance in effecting his object from our townsman, Mr. John Creed, at that time Deputy Commissary of Prisoners. I do not recollect the exact day of our deliverance, but think it was early in the month of October * * * We were obliged to pass near the shore of Blackwell’s Island, where were several of our crew, who had been sent on shore among the sick. They had learned that the Cartel had arrived from Providence for the purpose of redeeming the crew of the Chance, and expected to be taken on board. Seeing us approaching they had, in order to cause no delay, prepared for their departure, and stood together on the shore, with their bundles in their hands; but, to their unutterable disappointment and dismay, they saw us pass by. We knew them and bitterly did we lament the necessity of leaving them behind. We could only wave our hands as we passed; but they could not return the salutation, and stood as if petrified with horror, like statues fixed immovably to the earth, until we had vanished from their sight.
“Upon arriving in Providence, Captain Aborn wasted no time in sharing the details of our suffering publicly, which stirred a deep sense of compassion among our fellow citizens. Messrs. Clarke and Nightingale, the previous owners of the Chance, along with other gentlemen, committed to doing everything possible to secure our freedom. It was discovered that forty British prisoners were at that time in Boston. They were quickly gathered and brought to Providence, where a sloop owned and commanded by Captain Gladding of Bristol was chartered to take the prisoners to New York for an exchange for an equal number of our crew. Captain Corey was appointed as an Agent to facilitate the exchange and to take us from the Jersey. After loading up with good provisions and water, he rushed to our aid. He received significant help from our townsman, Mr. John Creed, who was serving as Deputy Commissary of Prisoners at the time. I can’t recall the exact date of our rescue, but I believe it was early in October * * * We had to pass close to the shore of Blackwell’s Island, where several of our crew members had been sent ashore due to illness. They had learned that the Cartel had arrived from Providence to redeem the crew of the Chance and were expecting to be taken on board. Seeing us approach, they had lined up on the shore with their bundles in hand to avoid any delay. But to their utter disappointment and horror, they watched us sail by. We recognized them and mournfully regretted having to leave them behind. We could only wave as we passed, but they couldn’t return the gesture, standing as if frozen in shock, like statues rooted to the ground, until we disappeared from their view.”
“I have since seen and conversed with one of these unfortunate men, who afterwards made his escape. He informed me that their removal from the Jersey to the Island was productive of the most beneficial effects upon their health, and that they had been exulting at the improvement of their condition; but their terrible disappointment overwhelmed them with despair. They then considered their fate inevitable, believing that in a few days they must again be conveyed on board the hulk; there to undergo all the agonies of a second death. * * * Several of our crew were sick when we entered the Cartel, and the sudden change of air and diet caused some new cases of fever. One of our number, thus seized by the fever, was a young man named Bicknell of Barrington, R. I. He was unwell when we left the Jersey, and his symptoms indicated the approaching fever; and when we entered Narragansett Bay, he was apparently dying. Being informed that we were in the Bay he begged to be taken on deck, or at least to the hatchway, that he might look once more upon his native land. He said that he was sensible of his condition; that the hand of death was upon him; but that he was consoled by the thought that he should be decently interred, and be suffered to rest among his friends and kindred. I was astonished at the degree of resignation and composure with which he spoke. He pointed to his father’s house, as we approached it, and said it contained all that was dear to him upon earth. He requested to be put on shore.
“I have since seen and talked to one of these unfortunate men, who later managed to escape. He told me that moving from the Jersey to the Island had the most positive effects on their health, and they had been celebrating the improvement in their situation; but their terrible disappointment crushed them with despair. They then saw their fate as unavoidable, believing that in just a few days they would have to board the hulk again, where they would endure all the pain of a second death. * * * Several members of our crew were sick when we entered the Cartel, and the sudden change in air and diet caused some new cases of fever. One of our crew members, a young man named Bicknell from Barrington, R.I., was stricken by the fever. He was already feeling unwell when we left the Jersey, and his symptoms indicated that the fever was coming on; by the time we reached Narragansett Bay, he seemed to be dying. When he learned that we were in the Bay, he asked to be taken on deck, or at least to the hatchway, so he could see his homeland one last time. He expressed an awareness of his condition, feeling that death was upon him; but he found comfort in the thought that he would be buried properly and allowed to rest among his friends and family. I was amazed by the level of resignation and calmness with which he spoke. As we approached his father’s house, he pointed it out and said it held everything dear to him in this world. He requested to be put ashore.”
“Our Captain was intimately acquainted with the family of the sufferer; and as the wind was light we dropped our anchor, and complied with his request. He was placed in the boat, where I took a seat by his side; in order to support him; and, with two boys at the oars, we left the sloop. In a few minutes his strength began rapidly to fail. He laid his fainting head upon my shoulder, and said he was going to the shore to be buried with his ancestors; that this had long been his ardent desire, and that God had heard his prayers. No sooner had we touched the shore than one of the boys was sent to inform his family of the event. They hastened to the boat to receive their long lost son and brother, but we could only give them his yet warm and lifeless corpse.”
“Our captain knew the family of the person who was suffering very well. Since the wind was light, we dropped anchor and honored his request. He was placed in the boat, and I took a seat next to him to support him. With two boys rowing, we left the sloop. Within a few minutes, his strength started to fade quickly. He rested his weak head on my shoulder and said he was going to the shore to be buried with his ancestors; that this had been his long-held wish, and that God had answered his prayers. As soon as we reached the shore, one of the boys was sent to tell his family what had happened. They rushed to the boat to welcome their long-lost son and brother, but all we could offer them was his still warm, lifeless body.”
OUR ARRIVAL HOME
Getting Home
“After remaining a few moments with the friends of our deceased comrade we returned to the sloop and proceeded up the river. It was about eight o’clock in the evening when we reached Providence. There were no quarantine regulations to detain us; but, as the yellow fever was raging among us, we took the precaution to anchor in the middle of the stream. It was a beautiful moonlit evening, and the intelligence of our arrival having spread through the town, the nearest wharf was in a short time crowded with people drawn together by curiosity, and a desire for information relative to the fate of their friends and connections.
“After spending a few moments with the friends of our deceased comrade, we returned to the sloop and made our way up the river. It was around eight o’clock in the evening when we arrived in Providence. There were no quarantine rules to hold us back; however, since yellow fever was spreading among us, we decided to anchor in the middle of the stream. It was a lovely moonlit evening, and word of our arrival quickly spread through the town, drawing a crowd to the nearest wharf, as people were curious and eager for news about their friends and family.”
“Continual inquiries were made from the anxious crowd on the land respecting the condition of several different individuals on board. At length the information was given that some of our number were below, sick with the yellow fever. No sooner was this fact announced than the wharf was totally deserted, and in a few moments not a human being remained in sight. The Old Jersey fever as it was called, was well known throughout the whole country. All were acquainted with its terrible effects; and it was shunned as if its presence were certain destruction.
“People from the worried crowd on the shore kept asking about the condition of various individuals on board. Eventually, it was revealed that some of us were below deck, sick with yellow fever. As soon as this information was shared, the wharf was completely deserted, and within moments, there wasn't a single person in sight. The Old Jersey fever, as it was known, was widely recognized across the country. Everyone was aware of its awful effects, and it was avoided as if it meant certain death.”
“After the departure of the crowd, the sloop was brought alongside the wharf, and every one who could walk immediately sprang on shore. So great was the dread of the pestilence, and so squalid and emaciated were the figures which we presented, that those among us whose families did not reside in Providence found it almost impossible to gain admittance into any dwelling. There being at that time no hospital in or near the town, and no preparations having been made for the reception of the sick, they were abandoned for that night. They were, however, supplied in a few hours with many small articles necessary for their immediate comfort, by the humane people in the vicinity of the wharf. The friends of the sick who belonged in the vicinity of the town were immediately informed of our arrival, and in the course of the following day these were removed from the vessel. For the remainder of the sufferers ample provision was made through the generous exertions of Messrs. Clarke and Nightingale.
“After the crowd left, the sloop was brought alongside the wharf, and everyone who could walk immediately jumped on shore. The fear of the disease was so strong, and our appearances were so dirty and frail, that those of us whose families didn’t live in Providence found it nearly impossible to get into any home. At that time, there was no hospital in or near the town, and no arrangements had been made for caring for the sick, so they were left behind for the night. However, within a few hours, many small items needed for their immediate comfort were provided by the kind people near the wharf. Friends of the sick who lived in the area were quickly notified of our arrival, and the next day they were taken off the vessel. For the rest of the patients, generous efforts by Messrs. Clarke and Nightingale ensured they were well cared for.”
“Solemn indeed are the reflections which crowd upon my mind as I review the events which are here recorded. Forty-two years have passed away since this remnant of our ill-fated crew were thus liberated from their wasting captivity. In that time what changes have taken place! Of their whole number but three are now alive. James Pitcher, Dr. Joseph Bowen, and myself, are the sole survivors. Of the officers I alone remain.”
“Solemn indeed are the reflections which crowd upon my mind as I review the events which are here recorded. Forty-two years have passed since this remnant of our ill-fated crew were liberated from their wasting captivity. In that time, what changes have taken place! Of their whole number, only three are now alive. James Pitcher, Dr. Joseph Bowen, and I are the only survivors. Of the officers, I alone remain.”
CHAPTER XLIV. — CORRESPONDENCE OF WASHINGTON AND OTHERS
General Washington cannot with justice be blamed for any part of the sufferings inflicted upon the naval prisoners on board the prison ships. Although he had nothing whatever to do with the American Navy, or the crews of privateers captured by the British, yet he exerted himself in every way open to him to endeavor to obtain their exchange, or, at least, a mitigation of their sufferings, and this in spite of the immense weight of cares and anxieties that devolved upon him in his conduct of the war. Much of his correspondence on the subject of these unfortunate prisoners has been given to the world. We deem it necessary, in a work of this character, to reproduce some of it here, not only because this correspondence is his most perfect vindication from the charge of neglect that has been brought against him, but also because it has much to do with the proper understanding of this chronicle.
General Washington shouldn't be unfairly blamed for the suffering experienced by the naval prisoners on the prison ships. Even though he had no involvement with the American Navy or the privateers captured by the British, he did everything he could to try to secure their exchange or at least ease their suffering, all while dealing with the heavy burdens and worries that came with leading the war. Much of his correspondence regarding these unfortunate prisoners has been shared with the public. In a work like this, we find it important to include some of it here, not only because this correspondence serves as his best defense against the accusations of neglect he faced, but also because it greatly contributes to the proper understanding of this narrative.
One of the first of the letters from which we shall quote was written by Washington from his headquarters to Admiral Arbuthnot, then stationed at New York, on the 25th of January 1781.
One of the first letters we’ll quote was written by Washington from his headquarters to Admiral Arbuthnot, who was stationed in New York, on January 25, 1781.
Sir:
Hey:
Through a variety of channels, representations of too serious a nature to be disregarded have come to us, that the American naval prisoners in the harbor of New York are suffering all the extremity of distress, from a too crowded and in all respects disagreeable and unwholesome situation, on board the Prison-ships, and from the want of food and other necessaries. The picture given us of their sufferings is truly calamitous and deplorable. If just, it is the obvious interest of both parties, omitting the plea of humanity, that the causes should be without delay inquired into and removed; and if false, it is equally desirable that effectual measures should be taken to obviate misapprehensions. This can only be done by permitting an officer, of confidence on both sides, to visit the prisoners in their respective confinements, and to examine into their true condition. This will either at once satisfy you that by some abuse of trust in the persons immediately charged with the care of the prisoners, their treatment is really such as has been described to us and requires a change; or it will convince us that the clamors are ill-grounded. A disposition to aggravate the miseries of captivity is too illiberal to be imputed to any but those subordinate characters, who, in every service, are too often remiss and unprincipled. This reflection assures me that you will acquiesce in the mode proposed for ascertaining the truth and detecting delinquency on one side, or falsehood on the other. The discussions and asperities which have had too much place on the subject of prisoners are so irksome in themselves, and have had so many ill consequences, that it is infinitely to be wished that there may be no room given for reviving them. The mode I have suggested appears to me calculated to bring the present case to a fair, direct, and satisfactory issue. I am not sensible of any inconvenience it can be attended with, and I therefore hope for your concurrence.
Through various channels, we've received reports that can’t be ignored about the American naval prisoners in New York Harbor who are experiencing severe distress due to being crammed into uncomfortable and unhealthy conditions on the prison ships, along with a lack of food and basic necessities. The description of their suffering is truly tragic and pitiful. If these reports are accurate, it's clearly in the best interest of both sides, aside from humanitarian reasons, to investigate and address the issues without delay; and if they're false, it's just as important to take effective measures to clear up any misunderstandings. This can only be achieved by allowing a trustworthy officer from both sides to visit the prisoners in their respective confinements and assess their actual situation. This will either quickly confirm that there has been some misuse of authority by those responsible for the prisoners’ care, leading to the reported treatment that needs to change, or it will reassure us that the complaints are unfounded. It’s too uncharitable to attribute a desire to worsen the suffering of captives to anyone but those lower-ranked individuals who, in every service, often act carelessly and unethically. This thought leads me to believe you will agree with my suggested method for uncovering the truth and addressing misconduct from one side or false claims from the other. The arguments and harshness that have excessively surrounded the issue of prisoners are so unpleasant and have led to so many negative outcomes that it’s highly desirable to avoid reigniting them. The approach I’ve proposed seems to me well-suited to bring this situation to a fair, straightforward, and satisfactory resolution. I don’t see any downside to it, and I hope for your support.
I should be glad, as soon as possible, to hear from you on the subject.
I would be happy to hear from you about this as soon as you can.
I have the honor to be, etc., George Washington.
I have the honor to be, etc., George Washington.
To this letter, written in January, Admiral Arbuthnot did not reply until the latter part of April. He then wrote:
To this letter, written in January, Admiral Arbuthnot didn’t respond until the end of April. He then wrote:
Royal Oak Office April 2lst. 1781.
Royal Oak Office April 21st, 1781.
Sir:
Hey:
If I had not been very busy when I received your letter dated the 25 of Jan. last, complaining of the treatment of the naval prisoners at this place, I certainly should have answered it before this time; and, notwithstanding that I then thought, as I now do, that my own testimony would have been sufficient to put the truth past a doubt, I ordered the strictest scrutiny to be made into the condition of all parties concerned in the victualling and treatment of those unfortunate people. Their several testimonies you must have seen, and I give you my honor that the transaction was conducted with such strict care and impartiality that you may rely on its validity.
If I hadn’t been so busy when I got your letter dated January 25th about the treatment of the naval prisoners here, I definitely would have replied sooner. Even though I thought then, as I do now, that my own account would have been enough to clarify the truth, I ordered a thorough investigation into the conditions of everyone involved in the supply and treatment of those unfortunate people. You must have seen their testimonies, and I assure you that the process was handled with such care and fairness that you can trust its accuracy.
Permit me now, Sir, to request that you will take the proper steps to cause Mr. Bradford, your Commissary, and the Jailor at Philadelphia, to abate the inhumanity which they exercise indiscriminately upon all people who are so unfortunate as to be carried into that place.
Please allow me, Sir, to ask that you take the necessary steps to have Mr. Bradford, your Commissary, and the Jailor in Philadelphia, stop the inhumanity they show equally to everyone unfortunate enough to be taken to that place.
I will not trouble you, Sir, with a catalogue of grievances, further than to request that the unfortunate may feel as little of the severities of war as the circumstances of the time will permit, that in future they may not be fed in winter with salted clams, and that they may be afforded a sufficiency of fuel.
I won't bother you, Sir, with a list of complaints, except to ask that those in need experience as little of the hardships of war as possible under the current situation, that in the future they aren't forced to eat salted clams in winter, and that they have enough fuel to keep warm.
I am, Sir, your most obdt and hble srvt M. Arbuthnot.
I am, Sir, your most obedient and humble servant, M. Arbuthnot.
Probably the American prisoners would have been glad to eat salted clams, rather than diseased pork, and, as has been shown, they were sometimes frozen to death on board the prison ships, where no fire except for cooking purposes seems ever to have been allowed.
Probably the American prisoners would have been happy to eat salted clams instead of sick pork, and, as has been shown, they sometimes froze to death on the prison ships, where it seems like no fire was ever allowed except for cooking.
In August, 1781, a committee appointed by Congress to examine into the condition of naval prisoners reported among other things as follows: “The Committee consisting of Mr. Boudinot, Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Clymer, appointed to take into consideration the state of the American prisoners in the power of the enemy report:
In August 1781, a committee selected by Congress to look into the situation of naval prisoners reported, among other things, the following: "The Committee made up of Mr. Boudinot, Mr. Sharpe, and Mr. Clymer, appointed to examine the condition of American prisoners held by the enemy, report:
“That they have collected together and cursorily looked into various evidences of the treatment our unhappy fellow-citizens, prisoners with the enemy, have heretofore and do still meet with, and find the subject of so important and serious a nature as to demand much greater attention, and fuller consideration than the present distant situation of those confined on board the Prison-ships at New York will now admit of, wherefor they beg leave to make a partial representation, and desire leave to sit again. * * *”
“That they have gathered and briefly reviewed various evidence regarding the treatment our unfortunate fellow citizens, prisoners with the enemy, have faced in the past and continue to face, and find the issue so significant and serious that it requires much more attention and deeper consideration than the current distant situation of those held on the prison ships in New York allows, therefore they request permission to make a partial report and ask to reconvene. * * *”
PART OF THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE
PART OF THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE
“A very large number of marine prisoners and citizens of these United States taken by the enemy, are now closely confined on board Prison-ships in the harbor of New York.
“A very large number of naval prisoners and citizens of the United States captured by the enemy are currently being held on prison ships in New York Harbor.”
“That the said Prison-ships are so unequal in size to the number of prisoners, as not to admit of a possibility of preserving life in this warm season of the year, they being crowded together in such a manner as to be in danger of suffocation, as well as exposed to every kind of putrid, pestilential disorder:
“That the mentioned prison ships are so inadequate in size for the number of prisoners that it makes it impossible to sustain life during this warm season of the year, being packed together in a way that puts them at risk of suffocation, as well as exposing them to all kinds of decaying, deadly diseases:”
“That no circumstances of the enemy’s particular situation can justify this outrage on humanity, it being contrary to the usage and customs of civilizations, thus deliberately to murder their captives in cold blood, as the enemy will not assert that Prison-ships, equal to the number of prisoners, cannot be obtained so as to afford room sufficient for the necessary purposes of life:
“That no circumstances of the enemy’s specific situation can justify this violation of humanity, as it goes against the norms and customs of civilized societies, to murder their captives in cold blood on purpose. The enemy cannot claim that prison ships, equal to the number of prisoners, cannot be secured to provide enough space for the essential needs of life:
“That the enemy do daily improve these distresses to enlist and compel many of our citizens to enter on board their ships of war, and thus to fight against their fellow citizens, and dearest connections.
"That the enemy continues to take advantage of these hardships to recruit and force many of our citizens to join their warships, compelling them to fight against their fellow citizens and closest loved ones."
“That the said Marine prisoners, until they can be exchanged should be supplied with such necessaries of clothing and provisions as can be obtained to mitigate their present sufferings.
“That the mentioned Marine prisoners, until they can be exchanged, should be provided with whatever clothing and food can be obtained to ease their current suffering.
“That, therefor, the Commander-in-chief be and he is hereby instructed to remonstrate to the proper officer within the enemy’s lines, on the said unjustifiable treatment of our Marine prisoners, and demand, in the most express terms, to know the reasons of this unnecessary severity towards them; and that the Commander-in-chief transmit such answer as may be received thereon to Congress, that decided measures for due retaliation may be adopted, if a redress of these evils be not immediately given.
“That, therefore, the Commander-in-Chief is instructed to formally protest to the appropriate officer within enemy lines regarding the unjust treatment of our Marine prisoners, and to clearly demand an explanation for this unnecessary severity towards them; and that the Commander-in-Chief forward any response received to Congress, so that decisive measures for proper retaliation can be taken if these issues are not immediately addressed.
“That the Commander-in-chief be and he is hereby also instructed to direct to supply the said prisoners with such provisions and light clothing for their present more comfortable subsistence as may be in his power to obtain, and in such manner as he may judge most advantageous for the United States.”
“That the Commander-in-Chief is hereby instructed to arrange for the provision of supplies, including food and light clothing, to ensure the comfort and well-being of the prisoners, using whatever resources he can access and in a way he believes is most beneficial for the United States.”
Accordingly Washington wrote to the officer then commanding at New York, Commodore Affleck, as follows:
Accordingly, Washington wrote to the officer in charge in New York, Commodore Affleck, as follows:
Headquarters, August 21 1781
Headquarters, August 21, 1781
Sir:
Sir:
The almost daily complaints of the severities exercised towards the American marine prisoners in New York have induced the Hon. the Congress of the United States to direct me to remonstrate to the commanding officer of his British Majesty’s ships of war in the harbor upon the subject; and to report to them his answer. The principal complaint now is, the inadequacy of the room in the Prison-ships to the number of prisoners, confined on board of them, which causes the death of many, and is the occasion of most intolerable inconvenience and distresses to those who survive. This line of conduct is the more aggravating, as the want of a greater number of Prison-ships, or of sufficient room on shore, can hardly be pleaded in excuse.
The nearly daily complaints about the harsh treatment of American marine prisoners in New York have prompted the Honorable Congress of the United States to instruct me to address the commanding officer of King George’s warships in the harbor about this issue and to report back with his response. The main complaint right now is the lack of space on the prison ships for the number of prisoners held on board, which leads to the deaths of many and causes unbearable discomfort and suffering for those who survive. This situation is even more frustrating because it’s hard to justify the lack of additional prison ships or enough space on land as an excuse.
As a bare denial of what has been asserted by so many individuals who have unfortunately experienced the miseries I have mentioned, will not be satisfactory, I have to propose that our Commissary-general of prisoners, or any other officer, who shall be agreed upon, shall have liberty to visit the ships, inspect the situation of the prisoners, and make a report, from an exact survey of the situation in which they may be found, whether, in his opinion, there has been any just cause of complaint.
As simply denying what many people who have sadly endured the hardships I've mentioned is not enough, I propose that our Commissary-General of Prisoners, or another agreed-upon officer, should be allowed to visit the ships, check on the conditions of the prisoners, and provide a report based on a thorough assessment of their situation, stating whether he believes there is any valid reason for complaint.
I shall be glad to be favored with an answer as soon as convenient.
I would appreciate a response as soon as it's convenient.
I have the honor to be yr most obdt srvt George Washington
I have the honor to be your most obedient servant, George Washington
AFFLECK’S REPLY
AFFLECK'S RESPONSE
New York 30 August 1781
New York, August 30, 1781
Sir:
Sir:
I intend not either to deny or to assert, for it will neither facilitate business, nor alleviate distress. The subject of your letter seems to turn on two points, namely the inconvenience and distresses which the American prisoners suffer from the inadequacy of room in the Prison-ships, which occasions the death of many of them, as you are told; and that a Commissary-general of prisoners from you should have liberty to visit the ships, inspect the situation of the prisoners, and make a report from an actual survey. I take leave to assure you that I feel for the distresses of mankind as much as any man; and since my commission to the naval command of the department, one of my principal endeavors has been to regulate the Prison and hospital ships.
I don’t intend to deny or confirm anything because it won't help the situation or ease the suffering. Your letter seems to focus on two main issues: the hardships and suffering that American prisoners are facing due to overcrowding on the prison ships, which leads to many deaths, as you mentioned; and the request for a Commissary General of prisoners from your side to be allowed to visit the ships, assess the conditions of the prisoners, and provide a report based on an actual inspection. I want to assure you that I care deeply about the suffering of people, just like anyone else; and since I took command of the naval department, one of my main goals has been to improve the conditions of the prison and hospital ships.
The Government having made no other provision for naval prisoners than shipping, it is impossible that the greater inconvenience which people confined on board ships experience beyond those confined on shore can be avoided, and a sudden accumulation of people often aggravates the evil.
The Government has not provided any arrangements for naval prisoners other than putting them on ships, so it’s unavoidable that those held on ships face greater hardships than those held on land, and a sudden influx of people often makes the situation worse.
But I assure you that every attention is shown that is possible, and that the Prison-ships are under the very same Regulations here that have been constantly observed towards the prisoners of all nations in Europe. Tables of diet are publicly affixed; officers visit every week, redress and report grievances, and the numbers are thinned as they can provide shipping, and no attention has been wanting.
But I promise you that every possible effort is being made, and that the prison ships follow the exact same regulations here that have always been upheld for prisoners from all nations in Europe. Menus are posted publicly; officers check in every week to address and report any issues, and the numbers are reduced as they can arrange for transportation, and no effort has been overlooked.
The latter point cannot be admitted to its full extent; but if you think fit to send an officer of character to the lines for that purpose, he will be conducted to me, and he shall be accompanied by an officer, and become a witness to the manner in which we treat the prisoners, and I shall expect to have my officer visit the prisoners detained in your jails and dungeons in like manner, as well as in the mines, where I am informed many an unhappy victim languishes out his days. I must remark, had Congress ever been inclined, they might have contributed to relieve the distress of those whom we are under the necessity of holding as prisoners, by sending in all in their possession towards the payment of the large debt they owe us on that head, which might have been an inducement towards liberating many now in captivity. I have the honor to be, Sir, with due respect, etc,
The last point can't be fully accepted; however, if you decide to send a reputable officer to the front lines for that purpose, he will be brought to me and accompanied by an officer, becoming a witness to how we treat the prisoners. I also expect that my officer will visit the prisoners held in your jails and dungeons, as well as in the mines, where I hear many unfortunate victims spend their days suffering. I should note that if Congress had ever been willing, they could have helped alleviate the suffering of those we are forced to keep as prisoners by sending anything they have toward settling the significant debt they owe us in this matter, which might have encouraged the release of many who are currently in captivity. I have the honor to be, Sir, with due respect, etc.
Edmund Affleck
Edmund Affleck
Much correspondence passed between the English and American Commissaries of Prisoners, as well as between Washington and the commanding officer at New York on the subject of the naval prisoners, but little good seems to have been effected thereby until late in the war, when negotiations for peace had almost progressed to a finish. We have seen that, in the summer of 1782, the hard conditions on board the prison ships were in some measure mitigated, and that the sick were sent to Blackwell’s Island, where they had a chance for life. We might go on presenting much more of the correspondence on both sides, and detail all the squabbles about the number of prisoners exchanged; their treatment while in prison; and other subjects of dispute, but the conclusion of the whole matter was eloquently written in the sands of the Wallabout, where the corpses of thousands of victims to British cruelty lay for so many years. We will therefore give only a few further extracts from the correspondence and reports on the subject, as so much of it was tedious and barren of any good result.
A lot of communication happened between the English and American Prisoner Commissaries, as well as between Washington and the commanding officer in New York regarding the naval prisoners, but it seems to have led to little progress until late in the war when peace negotiations were almost complete. We saw that in the summer of 1782, the harsh conditions on the prison ships were somewhat improved, and the sick were sent to Blackwell’s Island, where they had a chance to survive. We could go on sharing much more of the correspondence from both sides and detail all the arguments over the number of prisoners exchanged, their treatment while in captivity, and other points of contention, but the true conclusion of it all was tragically illustrated in the sands of the Wallabout, where the bodies of thousands of victims of British cruelty lay for many years. Therefore, we will only provide a few more extracts from the correspondence and reports on the matter, as much of it was tedious and yielded no beneficial outcomes.
In December of the year 1781 Washington, on whom the duty devolved of writing so many of the letters, and receiving so many insulting replies, wrote to the President of Congress as follows:
In December 1781, Washington, who had the task of writing many letters and dealing with numerous insulting replies, wrote to the President of Congress as follows:
“I have taken the liberty of enclosing the copies of two letters from the Commissary-general of Prisoners setting forth the debt which is due from us on account of naval prisoners; the number remaining in captivity, their miserable situation, and the little probability there is of procuring their release for the want of proper subjects in our hands.
“I’ve taken the liberty of including copies of two letters from the Commissary-General of Prisoners, outlining the debt we owe regarding naval prisoners; the number still in captivity, their terrible situation, and the slim chances of securing their release due to the lack of suitable individuals on our side.”
“Before we proceed into an inquiry into the measures that ought to be adopted to enable us to pay our debt, and to affect the exchange of those who still remain in captivity, a matter which it may take some time to determine, humanity and policy point out the necessity of administering to the pressing wants of a number of the most valuable subjects of the republic.
“Before we start looking into the steps we should take to pay our debt and secure the release of those who are still in captivity, which may take some time to sort out, common sense and good policy highlight the need to address the urgent needs of many of the most valuable citizens of the republic."
“Had they been taken in the Continental service, I should have thought myself authorized in conjunction with the Minister of War to apply a remedy, but as the greater part of them were not thus taken, as appears by Mr. Skinner’s representation, I must await the decision of Congress upon the subject.
“Had they been enlisted in the Continental service, I would have felt entitled, along with the Minister of War, to take action. However, since most of them were not enlisted, as Mr. Skinner pointed out, I must wait for Congress to make a decision on the matter.”
“Had a system, some time ago planned by Congress and recommended to the several States, been adopted and carried fully into execution, I mean that of obliging all Captains of private vessels to deliver over their prisoners to the Continental Commissioners upon certain conditions, I am persuaded that the numbers taken and brought into the many ports of the United States would have amounted to a sufficiency to have exchanged those taken from us; but instead of that, it is to be feared, that few in proportion were secured, and that the few who are sent in, are so partially applied, that it creates great disgust in those remaining. The consequence of which is, that conceiving themselves neglected, and seeing no prospect of relief, many of them entered into the enemy’s service, to the very great loss of our trading interest. Congress will, therefore, I hope, see the necessity of renewing their former, or making some similar recommendation to the States.
“Had a system, previously planned by Congress and recommended to the various States, been adopted and fully implemented, requiring all Captains of private vessels to hand over their prisoners to the Continental Commissioners under specific conditions, I believe the number captured and brought into the many ports of the United States would have been enough to exchange for those taken from us. Instead, it seems that only a small number were secured, and those who were sent in are so poorly managed that it creates great frustration among those left behind. As a result, feeling neglected and seeing no chance of relief, many of them joined the enemy’s service, causing significant harm to our trading interests. Therefore, I hope Congress recognizes the need to renew their previous recommendations to the States or make some similar proposal.”
“In addition to the motives above mentioned, for wishing that the whole business of prisoners of war might be brought under one general regulation, there is another of no small consideration, which is, that it would probably put a stop to those mutual complaints of ill treatment which are frequently urged on each part. For it is a fact that, for above two years, we have had no occasion to complain of the treatment of the Continental land prisoners in New York, neither have we been charged with any improper conduct towards those in our hands. I consider the sufferings of the seamen, for some time past, as arising in great measure from the want of that general regulation which has been spoken of, and without which there will constantly be a great number remaining in the hands of the enemy. * * *”
“In addition to the reasons mentioned above for wanting the whole issue of prisoners of war to be managed under one general regulation, there's another important consideration: it would likely put an end to the mutual complaints about mistreatment that often arise from both sides. The truth is that for over two years, we haven’t had any reason to complain about the treatment of the Continental land prisoners in New York, and we haven't been accused of any improper behavior towards those in our custody. I believe the suffering of the seamen recently is largely due to the lack of that general regulation that has been discussed, and without it, there will always be a significant number remaining in the hands of the enemy. * * *”
Again in February of the year 1782 Washington wrote to Congress from Philadelphia as follows:
Again in February 1782, Washington wrote to Congress from Philadelphia as follows:
Feb. 18, 1782.
Feb. 18, 1782.
* * * “Mr. Sproat’s proposition of the exchange of British soldiers for American seamen, if acceded to, will immediately give the enemy a very considerable re-enforcement, and will be a constant draft hereafter upon the prisoners of war in our hands. It ought also to be considered that few or none of the Continental naval prisoners in New York or elsewhere belong to the Continental service. I, however, feel for the situation of these unfortunate people, and wish to see them relieved by any mode, which will not materially affect the public good. In some former letters upon this subject I have mentioned a plan, by which I am certain they might be liberated nearly as fast as they are captured. It is by obliging the Captains of all armed vessels, both public and private, to throw their prisoners into common stock, under the direction of the Commissary-general of prisoners. By this means they would be taken care of, and regularly applied to the exchange of those in the hands of the enemy. Now the greater part are dissipated, and the few that remain are applied partially. * * *”
* * * “Mr. Sproat’s idea to swap British soldiers for American sailors, if accepted, will immediately give the enemy a significant boost in manpower and will create a continuous demand on the captured soldiers we have. It should also be noted that very few, if any, of the naval prisoners from the Continental side in New York or anywhere else are actually part of the Continental forces. Still, I empathize with the plight of these unfortunate individuals and want to see them freed in a way that doesn’t seriously harm the public interest. In previous letters on this subject, I mentioned a plan that I believe could allow for their release nearly as quickly as they are captured. This would involve requiring the captains of all armed vessels, both public and private, to hand over their prisoners to a common pool, overseen by the Commissary-general of prisoners. This way, they would be cared for and systematically used for exchanges of our people held by the enemy. At this point, most are scattered, and the few who remain are only partially utilized. * * *”
James Rivington edited a paper in New York during the Revolution, and, in 1782, the American prisoners on board the Jersey addressed a letter to him for publication, which is given below.
James Rivington edited a newspaper in New York during the Revolution, and in 1782, the American prisoners on the Jersey wrote him a letter for publication, which is provided below.
“On Board the Prison-ship Jersey, June 11, 1782.
“On Board the Prison Ship Jersey, June 11, 1782.
“Sir:
"Dear Sir,"
Enclosed are five letters, which if you will give a place in your newspaper will greatly oblige a number of poor prisoners who seem to be deserted by our own countrymen, who has it in their power, and will not exchange us. In behalf of the whole we beg leave to subscribe ourselves, Sir, yr much obliged srvts,
Enclosed are five letters that, if you could publish them in your newspaper, would greatly help a number of poor prisoners who appear to have been abandoned by our fellow countrymen, who have the power to swap us and choose not to. On behalf of everyone, we kindly ask to subscribe ourselves, Sir, your much obliged servants,
“John Cooper “John Sheffield “William Chad “Richard Eccleston “John Baas”
“John Cooper “John Sheffield “William Chad “Richard Eccleston “John Baas”
ENCLOSURES OF THE FOREGOING LETTER
ATTACHMENTS TO THE ABOVE LETTER
David Sproat, Commissary of Prisoners, to the prisoners on board the Jersey, New York.
David Sproat, Prisoners' Commissary, to the inmates on the Jersey, New York.
“June 11 1782
June 11, 1782
“This will be handed you by Captain Daniel Aborn, and Dr, Joseph Bowen, who, agreeable to your petition to his Excellency, Rear-Admiral Digby, have been permitted to go out, and are now returned from General Washington’s Head-quarters, where they delivered your petition to him, representing your disagreeable situation at this extreme hot season of the year, and in your names solicited his Excellency to grant your speedy relief, by exchanging you for a part of the British soldiers in his hands, the only possible means in his power to effect it. Mr. Aborn and the Doctor waits on you with his answer, which I am sorry to say is a flat denial.
“This will be delivered to you by Captain Daniel Aborn and Dr. Joseph Bowen, who, following your request to his Excellency, Rear-Admiral Digby, were allowed to go out and have now returned from General Washington’s headquarters, where they presented your petition to him. They highlighted your difficult situation during this extremely hot season and, on your behalf, asked his Excellency to grant you quick relief by exchanging you for some of the British soldiers in his custody, which is the only way he could facilitate that. Mr. Aborn and the Doctor are here to share his response, which I regret to inform you is a flat denial.”
“Enclosed I send you copies of three letters which have passed between Mr. Skinner and me, on the occasion, which will convince you that everything has been done on the part of Admiral Digby, to bring about a fair and general exchange of prisoners on both sides. I am
“Enclosed I send you copies of three letters that have exchanged between Mr. Skinner and me, on the occasion, which will convince you that everything has been done on the part of Admiral Digby, to bring about a fair and general exchange of prisoners on both sides. I am
“your most hble Srvt, “David Sproat “Comm. Gen. for Naval Prisoners.”
“your most humble servant, “David Sproat “Comm. Gen. for Naval Prisoners.”
ENCLOSURES SENT BY D. SPROAT
ENCLOSURES SENT BY D. SPROAT
David Sproat to Abraham Skinner, American Commissary of Prisoners.
David Sproat to Abraham Skinner, American Commissary of Prisoners.
New York lst June 1782
New York, June 1, 1782
“Sir:
"Hey there:"
“When I last saw you at Elizabeth Town I mentioned the bad consequences which, in all probability, would take place in the hot weather if an exchange of prisoners was not agreed to by the commissioners on the part of General Washington. His Excellency Rear-Admiral Digby has ordered me to inform you, that the very great increase of prisoners and heat of the weather now baffles all our care and attention to keep them healthy. Five ships have been taken up for their reception, to prevent being crowded, and a great number permitted to go on parole.
“When I last saw you in Elizabeth Town, I mentioned the serious problems that would likely arise in the hot weather if the commissioners on General Washington's side didn't agree to an exchange of prisoners. His Excellency Rear-Admiral Digby has instructed me to let you know that the significant increase in the number of prisoners and the heat are making it challenging for us to keep them healthy. We've set aside five ships to accommodate them and avoid overcrowding, and many have been granted parole.”
“In Winter, and during the cold weather, they lived comfortably, being fully supplied with warm cloathing, blankets, etc, purchased with the money which I collected from the charitable people of this city; but now the weather requires a fresh supply—something light and suitable for the season—for which you will be pleased to make the necessary provision, as it is impossible for them to be healthy in the rags they now wear, without a single shift of cloathing to keep themselves clean. Humanity, sympathy, my duty and orders obliges me to trouble you again on this disagreeable subject, to request you will lose no time in laying their situation before his Excellency General Washington, who, I hope, will listen to the cries of a distressed people, and grant them, (as well as the British prisoners in his hands) relief, by consenting to a general and immediate exchange.
“In winter, when it’s cold, they lived comfortably, thanks to the warm clothing, blankets, and other necessities I gathered from the generous people in this city. However, now the weather calls for a new supply—something lighter and more fitting for the season. I hope you will arrange for this, as it’s impossible for them to stay healthy in the rags they currently wear, with no change of clothing to keep them clean. Out of compassion, sympathy, and my duty, I must trouble you again about this uncomfortable issue. Please take immediate action to present their situation to his Excellency General Washington, who I hope will respond to the pleas of those in distress and provide relief, not just for them but also for the British prisoners in his custody, by agreeing to a general and prompt exchange.”
“I am, sir, etc, “David Sproat.”
“I am, sir, etc., “David Sproat.”
It is scarcely necessary to point out to the intelligent reader the inconsistencies in this letter. The comfortable prisoners, abundantly supplied with blankets and clothing in the winter by the charity of the citizens of New York, were so inconsiderate as to go on starving and freezing to death throughout that season. Not only so, but their abundant supply of clothing was reduced to tattered rags in a surprisingly short time, and they were unable to be healthy, “without a single shift of clothing to keep themselves clean.”
It’s hardly worth mentioning to the smart reader the contradictions in this letter. The well-treated prisoners, who had plenty of blankets and clothes in the winter thanks to the kindness of New York’s citizens, were thoughtless enough to keep starving and freezing to death during that time. Not only that, but their ample supply of clothing turned into tattered rags in no time, and they couldn’t stay healthy, "without a single change of clothing to keep themselves clean."
We have already seen to what straits they were in reality reduced, in spite of the private charity of the citizens of New York. We do not doubt that the few blankets and other new clothing, if any such were ever sent on board the Jersey, were the gifts of private charity, and not the donation of the British Government.
We have already seen how desperate their situation really was, despite the private donations from the citizens of New York. We have no doubt that the few blankets and other new clothing, if any were ever sent on board the Jersey, were the result of private charity, not a donation from the British Government.
No one, we believe, can blame General Washington for his unwillingness to add to the British forces arrayed against his country by exchanging the captured troops in the hands of the Americans for the crews of American privateers, who were not in the Continental service. As we have already seen, the blame does not rest with that great commander, whose compassion never blinded his judgment, but with the captains and owners of American privateers themselves, and often with the towns of New England, who were unwilling to burden themselves with prisoners taken on the ocean.
No one, we believe, can fault General Washington for his refusal to strengthen the British forces positioned against his country by trading the captured troops held by the Americans for the crews of American privateers, who were not part of the Continental service. As we’ve already noted, the responsibility doesn’t lie with that great leader, whose compassion never clouded his judgment, but with the captains and owners of American privateers themselves, and often with the towns of New England, who were reluctant to take on the burden of prisoners captured at sea.
The next letter we will quote is the answer of Commissary Skinner to David Sproat:
The next letter we'll quote is Commissary Skinner's response to David Sproat:
“New York June 9th. 1782
New York, June 9, 1782
“Sir:
"Hey there:"
From the present situation of the American naval prisoners on board your prison-ships, I am induced to propose to you the exchange of as many as I can give you British naval prisoners for, leaving the balance already due you to be paid when in our power. I could wish this to be represented to his Excellency, Rear Admiral Digby, and that the proposal could be acceded to, as it would relieve many of these distrest men and be consistent with the humane purposes of our office.
From the current situation of the American naval prisoners on your prison ships, I’d like to suggest exchanging as many British naval prisoners as I can provide, leaving the remaining balance owed to you to be settled when we're able to do so. I hope this can be communicated to His Excellency, Rear Admiral Digby, and that the proposal can be accepted, as it would help many of these distressed men and align with the humane goals of our office.
“I will admit that we are unable at present to give you seaman for seaman, and thereby relieve the prison-ships of their dreadful burthen, but it ought to be remembered there is a large balance of British soldiers due to the United States, since February last, and that as we have it in our power we may be disposed to place the British soldiers who are now in our possession in as disagreeable a situation as those men are on board the prison ships.
“I’ll admit that we can’t right now match you sailor for sailor, and lighten the load on the prison ships, but it should be noted that there’s a significant number of British soldiers owed to the United States since last February. Since we have the capability, we might choose to put the British soldiers currently in our custody in as uncomfortable a position as those men are on the prison ships.”
“I am yr obdt hble srvt “Abraham Skinner”
“I am your obedient humble servant, Abraham Skinner.”
COMMISSARY SPROAT’S REPLY
COMMISSARY SPROAT’S RESPONSE
“New York June 9th 1782
"New York, June 9, 1782"
“Sir:
"Dear Sir,"
“I have received your letter of this date and laid it before his Excellency Rear Admiral Digby, Commander in charge, etc, who has directed me to give for answer that the balance of prisoners, owing to the British having proceeded, from lenity and humanity, on the part of himself and those who commanded before his arrival, is surprized you have not been induced to offer to exchange them first; and until this is done can’t consent to your proposal of a partial exchange, leaving the remainder as well as the British prisoners in your hands, to linger in confinement. Conscious of the American prisoners under my direction, being in every respect taken as good care of as their situation and ours will admit. You must not believe that Admiral Digby will depart from the justice of this measure because you have it in your power to make the British prisoners with you more miserable than there is any necessity for. I am, Sir,
“I have received your letter dated today and presented it to His Excellency Rear Admiral Digby, the Commander in charge, etc. He has instructed me to respond that he is surprised you haven't considered offering to exchange the remaining prisoners first, especially since the British have acted out of leniency and humanity on his part and that of his predecessors. Until you do that, he cannot agree to your proposal for a partial exchange, which would leave the remaining British prisoners in your hands to suffer in confinement. I assure you that the American prisoners under my care are being looked after as well as their situation and ours allow. You should not assume that Admiral Digby will compromise the fairness of this matter just because you can make the British prisoners with you suffer more than necessary. I am, Sir,
“yr hble servt “David Sproat.”
"Your humble servant, David Sproat."
The prisoners on board the Jersey published in the Royal Gazette the following
The prisoners on board the Jersey published in the Royal Gazette the following
ADDRESS TO THEIR COUNTRYMEN
ADDRESS TO THEIR NATION
“Prison Ship Jersey, June 11th 1782
“Prison Ship Jersey, June 11th 1782
“Friends and Fellow Citizens of America:
“Friends and Fellow Citizens of America:
“You may bid a final adieu to all your friends and relatives who are now on board the Jersey prison ships at New York, unless you rouse the government to comply with the just and honorable proposals, which has already been done on the part of Britons, but alas! it is with pain we inform you, that our petition to his Excellency General Washington, offering our services to the country during the present campaign, if he would send soldiers in exchange for us, is frankly denied.
“You can say a final farewell to all your friends and family who are now on the Jersey prison ships in New York, unless you convince the government to agree to the fair and honorable proposals that have already been made by the British. Unfortunately, it pains us to inform you that our petition to his Excellency General Washington, offering our services to the country during the current campaign in exchange for soldiers, has been outright denied.”
“What is to be done? Are we to lie here and share the fate of our unhappy brothers who are dying daily? No, unless you relieve us immediately, we shall be under the necessity of leaving our country, in preservation of our lives.
“What should we do? Are we just going to lie here and share the same fate as our unfortunate brothers who are dying every day? No, unless you help us right away, we will have no choice but to leave our country to save our lives.
“Signed in behalf of prisoners
"Signed on behalf of prisoners"
“John Cooper “John Sheffield “William Chad “Richard Eccleston “George Wanton “John Baas.
“John Cooper “John Sheffield “William Chad “Richard Eccleston “George Wanton “John Baas.
“To Mr James Rivington, Printer N. Y.”
“To Mr. James Rivington, Printer, New York.”
This address was reproduced in Hugh Gaines’s New York Gazette, June 17, 1782.
This speech was printed in Hugh Gaines's New York Gazette, June 17, 1782.
Whether the John Cooper who signed his name to this address is the Mr. Cooper mentioned by Dring as the orator of the Jersey we do not know, but it is not improbable. Nine Coopers are included in the list, given in the appendix to this volume, of prisoners on the Jersey, but no John Cooper is among them. The list is exceedingly imperfect. Of the other signers of the address only two, George Wanton and John Sheffield, can be found within its pages. It is very certain that it is incomplete, and it probably does not contain more than half the names of the prisoners who suffered on board that dreadful place. David Sproat won the hatred and contempt of all the American prisoners who had anything to do with him. One of his most dastardly acts was the paper which he drew up in June, 1782, and submitted to a number of American sea captains for their signature, which he obtained from them by threats of taking away their parole in case of their refusal, and sending them back to a captivity worse than death. This paper, which they signed without reading was to the following effect:
Whether the John Cooper who signed his name to this address is the Mr. Cooper mentioned by Dring as the speaker of the Jersey, we do not know, but it’s quite possible. Nine Coopers are included in the list, provided in the appendix to this volume, of prisoners on the Jersey, but no John Cooper is among them. The list is extremely incomplete. Of the other signers of the address, only two, George Wanton and John Sheffield, can be found within its pages. It is very clear that it is not complete and probably does not include more than half the names of the prisoners who suffered on that terrible ship. David Sproat earned the hatred and contempt of all the American prisoners who dealt with him. One of his most cowardly acts was the document he created in June 1782, which he presented to several American sea captains for their signatures. He obtained their signatures by threatening to revoke their parole if they refused and sending them back to a captivity worse than death. This document, which they signed without reading, was to the following effect:
LETTER PURPORTING TO BE FROM A COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS, NAVAL PRISONERS OF WAR TO J. RIVINGTON, WITH A REPRESENTATION OF A COMMITTEE ON THE CONDITION OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
LETTER SUPPOSEDLY FROM A COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS, NAVAL PRISONERS OF WAR TO J. RIVINGTON, WITH A REPORT FROM A COMMITTEE ABOUT THE CONDITION OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
New York, June 22, 1782.
New York, June 22, 1782.
Sir:
Hello:
We beg you will be pleased to give the inclosed Report and Resolve of a number of Masters of American Vessels, a place in your next Newspaper, for the information of the public. In order to undeceive numbers of our countrymen without the British lines, who have not had an opportunity of seeing the state and situation of the prisoners of New York as we have done. We are, Sir,
We kindly ask you to publish the enclosed Report and Resolution from several Masters of American Vessels in your next newspaper for the public's awareness. This is to help inform many of our fellow countrymen who are outside of British lines and haven't had the chance to see the conditions and circumstances of the prisoners in New York, as we have. We are, Sir,
yr most obdt, hble srvts,
your most obedient, humble servants,
Robert Harris, Captain of the sloop Industry John Chace Charles Collins, Captain of the Sword-fish Philemon Haskell Jonathan Carnes
Robert Harris, Captain of the sloop Industry John Chace Charles Collins, Captain of the Sword-fish Philemon Haskell Jonathan Carnes
REPORT
REPORT
We whose names are hereunto subscribed, late Masters of American vessels, which have been captured by the British cruisers and brought into this port, having obtained the enlargement of our paroles from Admiral Digby, to return to our respective homes, being anxious before our departure to know the true state and situation of the prisoners confined on board the prison ships and hospital ships for that purpose, have requested and appointed six of our number, viz, R. Harris, J. Chace, Ch. Collins, P. Haskell, J. Carnes and Christopher Smith, to go on board the said prison ships for that purpose and the said six officers aforesaid having gone on board five of the vessels, attended by Mr. D. Sproat, Com. Gen. for Naval Prisoners, and Mr. George Rutherford, Surgeon to the hospital ships, do report to us that they have found them in as comfortable a situation as it is possible for prisoners to be on board of ships at this season of the year, and much more so than they had any idea of, and that anything said to the contrary is false and without foundation. That they inspected their beef, pork, flour, bread, oatmeal, pease, butter, liquors, and indeed every species of provisions which is issued on board his British Majesty’s ships of war, and found them all good of their kind, which survey being made before the prisoners, they acknowledged the same and declared they had no complaint to make but the want of cloaths and a speedy exchange. We therefore from this report and what we have all seen and known, Do Declare that great commendation is due to his Excellency Rear Admiral Digby, for his humane disposition and indulgence to his prisoners, and also to those he entrusts the care of them to; viz: To the Captain and officers of his Majesty’s prison-ship Jersey, for their attention in preserving good order, having the ship kept clean and awnings spread over the whole of her, fore and aft: To Dr Rutherford, and the Gentlemen acting under him * * *, for their constant care and attendance on the sick, whom we found in wholesome, clean sheets, also covered with awnings, fore and aft, every man furnished with a cradle, bed, and sheets, made of good Russia linen, to lay in; the best of fresh provisions, vegetables, wine, rice, barley, etc, which was served out to them. And we further do declare in justice to Mr. Sproat, and the gentlemen acting under him in his department, that they conscientiously do their duty with great humanity and indulgence to the prisoners, and reputation to themselves; And we unanimously do agree that nothing is wanting to preserve the lives and health of those unfortunate prisoners but clean cloaths and a speedy exchange, which testimony we freely give without restriction and covenant each with the other to endeavor to effect their exchange as soon as possible:
We, the undersigned, former captains of American ships that were captured by British cruisers and brought to this port, have received approval from Admiral Digby to return to our homes. Before we leave, we want to know the actual conditions of the prisoners held on the prison and hospital ships. To that end, we have appointed six of our group—R. Harris, J. Chace, Ch. Collins, P. Haskell, J. Carnes, and Christopher Smith—to board the prison ships for this purpose. The six officers mentioned have visited five of the vessels, accompanied by Mr. D. Sproat, Commissioner General for Naval Prisoners, and Mr. George Rutherford, Surgeon to the hospital ships. They reported back to us that the prisoners are in as comfortable a situation as possible for this time of year, much better than we had expected, and any contrary claims are false and unfounded. They inspected the food rations—including beef, pork, flour, bread, oatmeal, peas, butter, and liquor—issued on His Majesty’s warships and found everything to be of good quality. During this inspection, the prisoners acknowledged this and stated they had no complaints except for needing clothes and a quick exchange. Therefore, based on this report and our own observations, we declare that great praise is deserved by Rear Admiral Digby for his humane treatment and consideration of his prisoners, as well as to the Captain and officers of His Majesty’s prison ship Jersey for their diligence in maintaining order, keeping the ship clean, and having awnings spread over the entire ship. We also commend Dr. Rutherford and his staff for their ongoing care for the sick; we found them in clean sheets, also under awnings, with each man given a cradle, bed, and sheets made of good Russian linen, and provided with fresh food, vegetables, wine, rice, barley, etc. Furthermore, we acknowledge Mr. Sproat and his team for performing their duties with great humanity and for upholding their own reputations. We unanimously agree that the only things needed to safeguard the lives and health of these unfortunate prisoners are clean clothes and a swift exchange, and we provide this testimony freely, without any restrictions, and with a mutual commitment to pursue their exchange as soon as possible.
For the remembrance of this our engagement we have furnished ourselves with copies of this instrument of writing. Given under our hands in New York the 22 of June, 1782.
For the memory of our engagement, we have provided ourselves with copies of this document. Made official in New York on June 22, 1782.
Signed:
Signed:
Robert Harris John Chace Charles Collins Philemon Haskell ]. Carnes Christopher Smith James Gaston John Tanner Daniel Aborn Richard Mumford Robert Clifton John McKeever Dr. J. Bowen.
Robert Harris John Chace Charles Collins Philemon Haskell ]. Carnes Christopher Smith James Gaston John Tanner Daniel Aborn Richard Mumford Robert Clifton John McKeever Dr. J. Bowen.
The publication of this infamously false circular roused much indignation among patriotic Americans, and no one believed it a trustworthy statement. The Independent Chronicle, in its issue for August, 1782, had the following refutation: [Footnote: This letter is said to have been written by Captain Manly, five times a prisoner during the Revolution.]
The release of this notoriously false circular sparked a lot of anger among patriotic Americans, and nobody considered it a reliable statement. The Independent Chronicle, in its August 1782 issue, published the following rebuttal: [Footnote: This letter is said to have been written by Captain Manly, five times a prisoner during the Revolution.]
“Mr Printer:
Mr. Printer:
“Happening to be at Mr. Bracket’s tavern last Saturday, and hearing two gentlemen conversing on the surprising alteration in regard to the treatment our prisoners met with in New York, and as I have had the misfortune to be more than once a prisoner in England, and in different prison-ships in New York, and having suffered everything but death, I cannot help giving all attention to anything I hear or read relative to the treatment our brave countrymen met with on board the prison-ships of New York. One of the gentlemen observed that the treatment of our prisoners must certainly be much better, as so many of our commanders had signed a paper that was wrote by Mr. David Sproat, the commissary of naval prisoners in New York. The other gentleman answered and told him he could satisfy him in regard to the matter, having seen and conversed with several of the Captains that signed Mr. Sproat’s paper, who told him that, although they had put their names to the paper that Mr. Sproat sent them on Long Island, where they were upon parole, yet it was upon these conditions they did it: in order to have leave to go home to their wives and families, and not be sent on board the prison-ships, as Mr. Sproat had threatened to do if they refused to sign the paper that he sent them. These captains further said, that they did not read the paper nor hear it read. The gentleman then asked them how they could sign their names to a paper they did not read; they said it was because they might go home upon parole. He asked one of them why he did not contradict it since it had appeared in the public papers, and was false: he said he dare not at present, for fear of being recalled and sent on board the prison-ship, and there end his days: but as soon as he was exchanged he would do it. If this gentleman, through fear, dare not contradict such a piece of falsehood, I dare, and if I was again confined on board the prison-ship in New York, dare again take the boat and make my escape, although at the risk of my life.
"Last Saturday at Mr. Bracket’s tavern, I overheard two gentlemen talking about the surprising changes in how our prisoners are treated in New York. Having unfortunately been a prisoner in England and on various prison ships in New York, and having endured everything except death, I pay close attention to anything I hear or read about the treatment our brave countrymen faced on those ships. One gentleman mentioned that the treatment of our prisoners must be much better now since many of our commanders had signed a statement written by Mr. David Sproat, the commissary of naval prisoners in New York. The other gentleman responded that he could clarify the issue, having spoken to several of the Captains who signed Mr. Sproat’s statement. They told him that although they signed the statement Mr. Sproat sent them while they were on Long Island under parole, they did so under these conditions: to be allowed to go home to their wives and families instead of being sent to the prison ships, which Mr. Sproat had threatened if they didn't sign. These captains also said they didn’t read the statement or hear it read. The gentleman asked them how they could sign a paper they didn’t read, and they replied it was because it would let them go home under parole. He then asked one of them why he didn’t dispute it since it was published and false. The captain said he didn’t dare do so at the moment for fear of being recalled and sent back to the prison ship, where he might die; but he would dispute it as soon as he was exchanged. If this gentleman, out of fear, can’t contradict such falsehoods, I can, and if I were imprisoned again on a prison ship in New York, I would take the risk and escape, even if it cost me my life."
“Some of the captains went on board the prison-ship with Mr. Sproat, a few moments, but did not go off the deck.
“Some of the captains went aboard the prison ship with Mr. Sproat for a few moments but didn’t leave the deck.”
“In justice to myself and country I am obliged to publish the above.
“In fairness to myself and my country, I have to publish the above.”
“Captain Rover.”
“Captain Rover”
Besides this refutation of Sproat’s shameful trick there were many others. The Pennsylvania Packet of Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782, published an affidavit of John Kitts, a former prisoner on board the Jersey.
Besides this refutation of Sproat’s disgraceful trick, there were many others. The Pennsylvania Packet from Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782, published a statement from John Kitts, a former prisoner on board the Jersey.
“The voluntary affidavit of John Kitts, of the city of Phila., late mate of the sloop Industry, commanded by Robert Harris, taken before the subscriber, chief justice of the commonwealth of Pa., the 16th day of July, 1782.—This deponent saith, that in the month of November last he was walking in Front St. with the said Harris and saw in his hand a paper, which he told the deponent that he had received from a certain Captain Kuhn, who had been lately from New York, where he had been a prisoner, and that this deponent understood and believed it was a permission or pass to go to New York with any vessel, as it was blank and subscribed by Admiral Arbuthnot: that he does not know that the said Robert Harris ever made any improper use of said paper.”
“The voluntary affidavit of John Kitts, of the city of Philadelphia, former mate of the sloop Industry, commanded by Robert Harris, taken before me, the chief justice of the commonwealth of Pennsylvania, on the 16th day of July, 1782.—This deponent states that in November last he was walking on Front St. with Harris and saw him holding a paper, which he told the deponent he had received from Captain Kuhn, who had recently come from New York, where he had been a prisoner. The deponent understood and believed it was a permission or pass to go to New York with any vessel, as it was blank and signed by Admiral Arbuthnot; the deponent does not know if Robert Harris ever misused that paper.”
AFFIDAVIT OF JOHN COCHRAN, DENYING THE TRUTH OF THE STATEMENTS CONTAINED IN THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS
AFFIDAVIT OF JOHN COCHRAN, DENYING THE TRUTH OF THE STATEMENTS CONTAINED IN THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS
From the Pennsylvania Packet, Phila., Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782.
From the Pennsylvania Packet, Phila., Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782.
“The voluntary Affidavit of John Cochran, of the city of Phila., late mate of the ship, Admiral Youtman, of Phila., taken before the subscriber, the 16 day of July, 1782.
“The voluntary Affidavit of John Cochran, of the city of Philadelphia, former mate of the ship Admiral Youtman, of Philadelphia, taken before the undersigned, on the 16th day of July, 1782.”
“The said deponent saith, that he was taken prisoner on board the aforesaid ship on the 12 of March last by the ship Garland, belonging to the king of Great Britain, and carried into the city of New York, on the 15 of the same month, when he was immediately put on board the prison-ship Jersey, with the whole crew of the Admiral Youtman, and was close confined there until the first day of this month, when he made his escape; that the people on board the said prison-ship were very sickly insomuch that he is firmly persuaded, out of near 1000 persons, perfectly healthy when put on board the same ship, during the time of his confinement on board, there are not more than but three or four hundred now alive; that when he made his escape there were not three hundred men well on board, but upward of 140 very sick, as he understood and was informed by the physicians: that there were five or six men buried daily under a bank on the shore, without coffins; that all the larboard side of the said ship was made use of as a hospital for the sick, and was so offensive that he was obliged constantly to hold his nose as he passed from the gun-room up the hatchway; that he seen maggots creeping out of a wound of one Sullivan’s shoulder, who was the mate of a vessel out of Virginia; and that his wound remained undressed for several days together; that every man was put into the hold a little after sundown every night, and the hatches put over him; and that the tubs which were kept for the use of the sick * * * were placed under the ladder from the hatchway to the hold, and so offensive day and night, that they were almost intolerable, and increased the number of the sick daily. The deponent further saith, that the bilge water was very injurious in the hold, was muddy and dirty, and never was changed or sweetened during the whole time he was there, nor, as he was informed and believes to be true, for many years before; for fear, as it was reported, the provisions might be injured thereby; that the sick in the hospital part of the said ship Jersey, had no sheets of Russia, or any other linen, nor beds nor bedding furnished them; and those who had no beds of their own, of whom there were great numbers, were not even allowed a hammock, but were obliged to lie on the planks; that he was on board the said prison ship when Captain Robert Harris and others, with David Sproat, the commissary of prisoners, came on board her, and that none of them went or attempted to go below decks, in said ship, to see the situation of the prisoners, nor did they ask a single question respecting the matter, to this deponent’s knowledge or belief; for that he was present the whole time they were on board, and further the deponent saith not.
"The deponent states that he was taken prisoner on the aforementioned ship on March 12th last year by the ship Garland, which belongs to the king of Great Britain, and was brought to New York City on March 15th of the same month. He was immediately placed on board the prison ship Jersey along with the entire crew of the Admiral Youtman and was kept there in tight confinement until the first day of this month when he managed to escape. He believes that the people on board the prison ship were very sick, so much so that out of nearly 1,000 individuals who were healthy when put on the ship, only around three or four hundred are still alive during his confinement. When he escaped, there were less than three hundred men in good health on board, but over 140 were very sick, according to what he learned from the physicians. He mentioned that five or six men were buried daily under a mound on the shore, without coffins. The entire left side of the ship was used as a hospital for the ill and was so foul that he constantly had to hold his nose while moving from the gun-room up the hatchway. He saw maggots crawling out of a wound on a man named Sullivan’s shoulder, who was the mate of a vessel from Virginia; his wound went untreated for several days. Each night, every man was placed in the hold shortly after sunset and the hatches were closed over them, and the tubs used for the sick were positioned under the ladder from the hatchway to the hold, creating an unbearable smell day and night which worsened the number of sick daily. Moreover, the bilge water in the hold was very harmful; it was muddy and dirty and was never changed or cleaned the entire time he was there, nor, as he was told and believes to be true, for many years prior, due to the fear, as reported, that the provisions might spoil. The sick in the hospital section of the Jersey had no sheets of linen or any bedding provided to them; those without beds, of whom there were many, weren’t even given a hammock, leading them to lie on the planks. He was on board the prison ship when Captain Robert Harris and others, including David Sproat, the commissary of prisoners, came on board. None of them went or attempted to go below decks to check on the situation of the prisoners, nor did they ask a single question regarding the matter, to the best of this deponent’s knowledge and belief, as he was present the entire time they were there. The deponent has no further information to provide."
“John Cochran”
“John Cochran”
“Theodore McKean C. J.
“Theodore McKean Chief Justice”
It seems singular that Sproat should have resorted to such a contemptible trick, which deceived few if any persons, for the reputation of the Jersey was too notorious for such a refutation to carry weight on either side.
It seems unusual that Sproat would have stooped to such a despicable trick, which fooled few, if any, people, because the reputation of the Jersey was too well-known for such a rebuttal to have any impact on either side.
In the meantime the mortality on board continued, and, by a moderate computation, two-thirds of her wretched occupants died and were buried on the shore, their places being taken by fresh victims, from the many privateers that were captured by the British almost daily.
In the meantime, the death toll on board continued to rise, and, by a rough estimate, two-thirds of the unfortunate occupants died and were buried on the shore, their spots being filled by new victims from the many privateers that were captured by the British almost daily.
CHAPTER XLV. — GENERAL WASHINGTON AND REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY—COMMISSARIES SPROAT AND
SKINNER
SKINNER
Washington’s best vindication against the charge of undue neglect of American prisoners is found in the correspondence on the subject. We will therefore give his letter to Rear Admiral Digby, after his interview with the committee of three sent from the Jersey to complain of their treatment by the British, and to endeavor to negotiate an exchange.
Washington’s strongest defense against the accusation of neglecting American prisoners is in the correspondence regarding the issue. We will therefore present his letter to Rear Admiral Digby, following his meeting with the committee of three sent from the Jersey to address their treatment by the British and to try to negotiate an exchange.
GENERAL WASHINGTON TO REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY
GENERAL WASHINGTON TO REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY
Head-Quarters, June 5 1782
Headquarters, June 5, 1782
Sir:
Hey:
By a parole, granted to two gentlemen, Messrs. Aborn and Bowen, I perceive that your Excellency granted them permission to come to me with a representation of the sufferings of the American prisoners at New York. As I have no agency on Naval matters, this application to me is made on mistaken grounds. But curiosity leading me to enquire into the nature and cause of their sufferings, I am informed that the prime complaint is that of their being crowded, especially at this season, in great numbers on board of foul and infected prison ships, where disease and death are almost inevitable. This circumstance I am persuaded needs only to be mentioned to your Excellency to obtain that redress which is in your power only to afford, and which humanity so strongly prompts.
Due to a parole granted to two gentlemen, Messrs. Aborn and Bowen, I understand that your Excellency allowed them to approach me regarding the suffering of American prisoners in New York. Since I have no authority over naval issues, their appeal to me is based on a misunderstanding. However, my curiosity has led me to investigate the nature and cause of their suffering, and I’ve learned that their main complaint is overcrowding, especially during this time, on dirty and infected prison ships, where illness and death are nearly unavoidable. I believe this situation only needs to be brought to your Excellency's attention to secure the relief that is in your power to provide and which compassion strongly encourages.
If the fortune of war, Sir, has thrown a number of these miserable people into your hands, I am certain your Excellency’s feelings for fellowmen must induce you to proportion the ships (if they must be confined on board ships), to their accommodation and comfort, and not, by crowding them together in a few, bring on disorders which consign them, by half a dozen a day, to the grave.
If the luck of war, Sir, has placed several of these unfortunate people in your care, I’m sure your Excellency’s compassion for others will lead you to adjust the number of ships (if they have to be kept on board ships) to better accommodate and comfort them. Please don’t overcrowd them into a few ships, as this will lead to chaos and result in several deaths each day.
The soldiers of his British Majesty, prisoners with us, were they (which might be the case), to be equally crowded together in close and confined prisons, at this season, would be exposed to equal loss and misery. I have the honor to be, Sir
The soldiers of His Majesty the King of Britain, who are our prisoners, would, if they were to be crammed into tight and cramped prisons at this time, face the same suffering and hardship. I have the honor to be, Sir
Yr Excellency’s most obt Hble srvt George Washington
Your Excellency’s most obedient humble servant, George Washington
REAR-ADMIRAL DIGBY’S ANSWER
Rear-Admiral Digby’s Response
N. Y. June 8 1782
N.Y. June 8, 1782
Sir:
Dude:
My feelings prompted me to grant Messrs. Aborn and Bowen permission to wait on your Excellency to represent their miserable situation, and if your Excellency’s feelings on this occasion are like mine, you will not hesitate one moment in relieving both the British and Americans suffering under confinement.
My emotions led me to allow Messrs. Aborn and Bowen to meet with you to share their unfortunate situation, and if your feelings on this matter align with mine, you won't hesitate for a second to help both the British and Americans who are suffering in captivity.
I have the Honor to be your Excellency’s Very obdt Srvt
I have the honor to be your Excellency’s very obedient servant.
R. Digby
R. Digby
FROM COMMISSARY SKINNER TO COMMISSARY SPROAT
FROM COMMISSARY SKINNER TO COMMISSARY SPROAT
Camp Highlands, June 24th 1782
Camp Highlands, June 24, 1782
Sir:
Hey there:
As I perceive by a New York paper of the 12 inst, the last letters which passed between us on the subject of naval prisoners have been committed to print, I must request the same to be done with this which is intended to contain some animadversions on those publications.
As I see from a New York paper dated the 12th, the last letters we exchanged about naval prisoners have been published, so I must ask for this one, which aims to include some comments on those publications, to be printed as well.
The principles and policy which appear to actuate your superiors in their conduct towards the American seamen who unfortunately fall into their power, are too apparent to admit of a doubt or misapprehension. I am sorry to observe, Sir, that notwithstanding the affectation of candour and fairness on your part, from the universal tenor of behaviour on your side of the lines, it is obvious that the designs of the British is, by misrepresenting the state of facts with regard to exchanges, to excite jealousy in the minds of our unfortunate seamen, that they are neglected by their countrymen, and by attempting to make them believe that all the miseries they are now suffering in consequence of a pestilential sickness arise from want of inclination in General Washington to exchange them when he has it in his power to do it; in hopes of being able by this insinuation and by the unrelenting severity you make use of in confining them in the contaminated holds of prison-ships, to compel them, in order to avoid the dreadful alternative of almost inevitable death, to enter the service of the King of Great Britain.
The principles and policies guiding your superiors in their treatment of the American sailors who unfortunately fall under their control are too clear to leave any doubt or misunderstanding. I regret to note, Sir, that despite the appearance of honesty and fairness on your part, the overall behavior from your side of the lines suggests that the British aim to stir jealousy among our unfortunate sailors by misrepresenting the facts about exchanges. They want to make these sailors feel neglected by their fellow countrymen and believe that all the hardships they currently face from a deadly sickness are due to General Washington's reluctance to exchange them when he has the chance. It seems you hope that by spreading this insinuation and by the relentless cruelty you show in holding them in the filthy conditions of prison ships, you can force them, to avoid the horrifying prospect of almost certain death, to join the service of the King of Great Britain.
To show that these observations are just and well grounded, I think it necessary to inform you of some facts which have happened within my immediate notice, and to put you in mind of others which you cannot deny. I was myself present at the time when Captain Aborn and Dr. Bowen * * * waited on his Excellency General Washington, and know perfectly well the answer his Excellency gave to that application: he informed them in the first place that he was not directly or indirectly invested with any power of inference respecting the exchange of naval prisoners; that this business was formerly under the direction of the Board of Admiralty, that upon the annihilation of that Board Congress had committed it to the Financier (who has in charge all our naval prisoners) and he to the Secretary at war. That (the General) was notwithstanding disposed to do everything in his power for their assistance and relief: that as exchanging seamen for soldiers was contrary to the original agreement for the exchange of prisoners,—which specified that officers should be exchanged for officers, soldiers for soldiers, citizens for citizens, and seamen for seamen; as it was contrary to the custom and practice of other nations, and as it would be, in his opinion, contrary to the soundest policy, by giving the enemy a great and permanent strength for which we could receive no compensation, or at best but a partial and temporary one, he did not think it would be admissible: but as it appeared to him, from a variety of well authenticated information, the present misery and mortality which prevailed among the naval prisoners were almost entirely, if not altogether produced by the mode of their confinement, being closely crowded together in infected prison-ships, where the very air is pregnant with disease, and the ships themselves (never having been cleaned in the course of many years), a mere mass of putrefaction, he would therefor, from motives of humanity, write to Rear-Admiral Digby, in whose power it was to remedy this great evil, by confining them on shore, or having a sufficient number of prison-ships provided for that purpose, for, he observed, it was as preposterously cruel to confine 800 men, at this sultry season, on board the Jersey prison-ship, as it would be to shut up the whole army of Lord Cornwallis to perish in the New Goal of Philadelphia, but if more commodious and healthy accommodations were not afforded we had the means of retaliation in our hands, which he should not hesitate, in that case, to make use of, by confining the land prisoners with as much severity as our seamen were held.—The Gentlemen of the Committee appeared to be sensible of the force of these reasons, however repugnant they might be to the feelings and wishes of the men who had destruction and death staring them in the face.
To show that these observations are fair and well-founded, I think it's important to share some facts I've witnessed firsthand and remind you of others you can't deny. I was there when Captain Aborn and Dr. Bowen * * * met with his Excellency General Washington, and I clearly remember the response his Excellency gave to their request: he first informed them that he had no authority, directly or indirectly, regarding the exchange of naval prisoners. This matter used to be handled by the Board of Admiralty, and after that Board was dissolved, Congress entrusted it to the Financier (who oversees all our naval prisoners), and he passed it to the Secretary of War. However, the General was willing to do everything he could to assist and support them: exchanging seamen for soldiers was against the original agreement for prisoner exchanges, which specified that officers should be exchanged for officers, soldiers for soldiers, citizens for citizens, and seamen for seamen. It was also contrary to the customs and practices of other nations, and in his view, it would go against sound policy by giving the enemy significant and lasting strength without adequate compensation, or at best only a partial and temporary one. He did not believe it would be acceptable: but from various reliable sources, it appeared to him that the current suffering and high mortality rates among the naval prisoners were almost entirely, if not entirely, caused by the conditions of their confinement, being crammed together in infected prison ships, where the air is thick with disease, and the ships themselves (which had not been cleaned for many years) were a mass of decay. Therefore, out of humanitarian concern, he would write to Rear-Admiral Digby, who had the power to address this serious issue by moving them onshore or providing enough prison ships for that purpose. He noted that it was as shockingly cruel to confine 800 men during this sultry season on the Jersey prison ship as it would be to lock up Lord Cornwallis's entire army to suffer in the New Goal of Philadelphia. But if more suitable and healthier conditions were not provided, we had means of retaliation at our disposal, which he would not hesitate to employ by treating the land prisoners as harshly as our seamen were being treated. The Gentlemen of the Committee seemed to recognize the validity of these reasons, even though they might clash with the feelings and wishes of those facing destruction and death.
His Excellency was further pleased to suffer me to go to New York to examine into the grounds of the suffering of the prisoners, and to devise, if possible, some way or another, for their liberation or relief. With this permission I went into your lines: and in consequence of the authority I had been previously invested with, from the Secretary at War, I made the proposition contained in my letter of the ninth instant. Although I could not claim this as a matter of right I flattered myself it would have been granted from the principles of humanity, as well as other motives. There had been a balance of 495 land prisoners due to us ever since the month of February last, when a settlement was made; besides which, to the best of my belief, 400 have been sent in, (this is the true state of the fact, though it differs widely from the account of 250 men, which is falsely stated in the note annexed to my letter in the New York paper:) notwithstanding this balance, I was then about sending into your lines a number of land prisoners, as an equivalent for ours, who were then confined in the Sugar House, without which (though the debt was acknowledged, I could not make interest to have them liberated), this business has since been actually negotiated, and we glory in having our conduct, such as will bear the strictest scrutiny, and be found consonant to the dictates of reason, liberality, and justice. But, Sir, since you would not agree to the proposals I made, since I was refused being permitted to visit the prison-ships: (for which I conclude no other reason can be produced than your being ashamed or afraid of having those graves of our seamen seen by one who dared to represent the horrors of them to his countrymen,) Since the commissioners from your side, at their late meeting, would not enter into an adjustment of the accounts for supplying your naval and land prisoners, on which there are large sums due us; and since your superiors will neither make provision for the support of your prisoners in our hands, nor accommodation for the mere existence of ours, who are now languishing in your prison-ships, it becomes my duty, Sir, to state these pointed facts to you, that the imputations may recoil where they are deserved, and to report to those, under whose authority I have the honor to act, that such measures as they deem proper may be adopted.
His Excellency kindly allowed me to go to New York to look into the situation of the prisoners and to find a way to help them out or provide some relief. With this approval, I went into your territory. Because of the authority I had received from the Secretary at War, I made the proposal mentioned in my letter from the ninth. While I couldn’t claim this as a right, I hoped it would be granted out of humanity and other reasons. Since February, there has been a balance of 495 land prisoners owed to us from a previous settlement; additionally, to my knowledge, 400 have been sent in (this is the true situation, despite the incorrect figure of 250 stated in the note attached to my letter in the New York paper). Despite this balance, I was planning to send a number of land prisoners into your area as compensation for ours, who were then held in the Sugar House. However, without an acknowledgment of the debt, I couldn’t make a case for their release. This matter has since been successfully negotiated, and we take pride in our actions, which can withstand scrutiny and align with reason, generosity, and justice. However, since you didn’t agree to my proposals and I was denied access to the prison ships (which I assume is due to shame or fear of exposing the conditions faced by our seamen), and since your commissioners at their recent meeting wouldn’t discuss settling the accounts for supporting your naval and land prisoners, for which we are owed significant amounts, and since your superiors aren’t providing for the needs of your prisoners in our custody, nor ensuring the basic well-being of ours suffering in your prison ships, it’s my responsibility to bring these clear facts to your attention. This way, any blame can fall where it rightfully belongs, and I can report back to those I represent so they can take appropriate action.
And now, Sir, I will conclude this long letter with observing that not having a sufficient number of British seamen in our possession we are not able to release urs by exchange:—this is our misfortune, but it is not a crime, and ought not to operate as a mortal punishment against the unfortunate—we ask no favour, we claim nothing but common justice and humanity, while we assert to the whole world, as a notorious fact, that the unprecedented inhumanity in the mode of confining our naval prisoners, to the amount of 800 in one old hulk, which has been made use of as a prison-ship for more than three years, without ever having been once purified, has been the real and sole cause of the deaths of hundreds of brave Americans, who would not have perished in that untimely and barbarous manner, had they, (when prisoners,) been suffered to breathe a purer air, and to enjoy more liberal and convenient accommodations agreeably to the practice of civilized nations when at war, (and) the example which has always been set you by the Americans. You may say, and I shall admit, that if they were placed on islands, and more liberty given them, that some might desert; but is not this the case with your prisoners in our hands? And could we not avoid this also, if we were to adopt the same rigid and inhuman mode of confinement you do?
And now, Sir, I will wrap up this long letter by noting that, since we don’t have enough British sailors in our possession, we cannot release ours by exchange. This is our misfortune, but it isn’t a crime and shouldn’t lead to harsh punishment against the unfortunate. We’re not asking for any special treatment; we simply want common justice and humanity. We want to make it known to the world that the shocking inhumanity in how our naval prisoners are treated—up to 800 of them crammed into one old hulk, which has been used as a prison ship for more than three years without ever being cleaned—has been the main reason for the deaths of hundreds of brave Americans. They wouldn’t have died in such an untimely and cruel way if they had been allowed to breathe cleaner air and enjoy better living conditions, as is customary among civilized nations during wartime, and as Americans have always shown you. You might argue, and I will concede, that if they were kept on islands and given more freedom, some might desert. But isn’t that the same with your prisoners in our custody? And couldn’t we avoid this too if we adopted the same harsh and inhumane confinement methods you use?
I beg, Sir, you will be pleased to consider this as addressed to you officially, as the principal executive officer in the department of naval prisoners, and not personally, and that you will attribute any uncommon warmth of style that I may have been led into to my feeling and animation on a subject with which I find myself so much interested, both from the principles of humanity and the duties of office. I am, Sir,
I kindly ask you, Sir, to view this as an official communication directed to you as the head of the naval prisoners department, rather than a personal message. Please understand that any unusually passionate language I may have used comes from my genuine concern and enthusiasm for a topic that means a lot to me, both for humanitarian reasons and my responsibilities in this position. I am, Sir,
yr most obdt Srvt Abraham Skinner
yr most obdt Srvt Abraham Skinner
Letters full of recriminations continued to pass between the commissaries on both sides. In Sproat’s reply to the letter we have just quoted, he enclosed a copy of the paper which he had induced the thirteen sea captains and other officers to sign, obtained as we have seen, in such a dastardly manner.
Letters filled with accusations kept going back and forth between the officials on both sides. In Sproat’s response to the letter we just mentioned, he included a copy of the document that he had persuaded the thirteen sea captains and other officers to sign, which, as we have noted, he obtained in a cowardly way.
In the meantime the naval prisoners continued to die in great numbers on board the prison and hospital-ships. We have already described the cleansing of the Jersey, on which occasion the prisoners were sent on board of other vessels and exposed to cold and damp in addition to their other sufferings. And while negotiations for peace were pending some relaxation in severity appears to have taken place.
In the meantime, the naval prisoners kept dying in large numbers on the prison and hospital ships. We've already talked about the cleanup of the Jersey, during which the prisoners were sent to other vessels and were subjected to cold and damp conditions, adding to their suffering. While peace negotiations were ongoing, it seems there was some easing of the harsh conditions.
CHAPTER XLVI. — SOME OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
We have seen that the crew of the Chance was exchanged in the fall of 1782. A few of the men who composed this crew were ill at the time that the exchange was affected, and had been sent to Blackwell’s Island. Among these unfortunate sufferers was the sailing-master of the Chance, whose name was Sylvester Rhodes.
We saw that the crew of the Chance was exchanged in the fall of 1782. A few of the men from this crew were sick at the time of the exchange and had been sent to Blackwell’s Island. Among these unfortunate individuals was the sailing-master of the Chance, named Sylvester Rhodes.
This gentleman was born at Warwick, R. I., November 21, 1745. He married Mary Aborn, youngest sister of Captain Daniel Aborn, and entered the service of his country, in the early part of the war, sometimes on land, and sometimes as a seaman. He was with Commodore Whipple on his first cruise, and as prize-master carried into Boston the first prize captured by that officer. He also served in a Rhode Island regiment.
This man was born in Warwick, R. I., on November 21, 1745. He married Mary Aborn, the youngest sister of Captain Daniel Aborn, and joined the service of his country early in the war, sometimes on land and sometimes as a sailor. He was with Commodore Whipple on his first mission and, as prize-master, brought into Boston the first prize captured by that officer. He also served in a Rhode Island regiment.
When the crew of the Jersey was exchanged and he was not among the number, his brother-in-law, Captain Aborn, endeavored to obtain his release, but, as he had been an officer in the army as well as on the privateer, the British refused to release him as a seaman. His father, however, through the influence of some prominent Tories with whom he was connected, finally secured his parole, and Captain Aborn went to New York to bring him home. But it was too late. He had become greatly enfeebled by disease, and died on board the cartel, while on her passage through the Sound, on the 3rd of November, 1782, leaving a widow and five children. Mary Aborn Rhodes lived to be 98, dying in 1852, one of the last survivors of the stirring times of the Revolution.
When the crew of the Jersey was exchanged and he wasn't among them, his brother-in-law, Captain Aborn, tried to get him released. However, since he had been an officer in both the army and the privateer, the British wouldn't let him go as a seaman. His father, though, managed to secure his parole through the influence of some prominent Tories he knew, and Captain Aborn went to New York to bring him home. But it was too late. He had become seriously ill and died on the cartel while crossing the Sound on November 3, 1782, leaving behind a widow and five children. Mary Aborn Rhodes lived to be 98, passing away in 1852, and was one of the last survivors from the exciting times of the Revolution.
WILLIAM DROWNE
WILLIAM DROWNE
One of the most adventurous of American seamen was William Drowne, who was taken prisoner more than once. He was born in Providence, R. I., in April 1755. After many adventures he sailed on the 18th of May, 1780, in the General Washington, owned by Mr. John Brown of Providence. In a Journal kept by Mr. Drowne on board of this ship, he writes:
One of the most daring American sailors was William Drowne, who was captured multiple times. He was born in Providence, R.I., in April 1755. After many adventures, he set sail on May 18, 1780, aboard the General Washington, which was owned by Mr. John Brown of Providence. In a journal he maintained while on this ship, Mr. Drowne writes:
“The cruise is for two months and a half, though should New York fetch us up again, the time may be protracted, but it is not in the bargain to pay that potent city a visit this bout. It may easily be imagined what a sensible mortification it must be to dispense with the delicious sweets of a Prison-ship. But though the Washington is deemed a prime sailor, and is well armed, I will not be too sanguine in the prospect of escape, as ‘the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.’ But, as I said before, it is not in the articles to go there this time, especially as it is said the prisoners are very much crowded there already, and it would be a piece of unfeeling inhumanity to be adding to their unavoidable inconvenience by our presence. Nor could we, in such a case, by any means expect that Madam Fortune would deign to smile so propitiously as she did before, in the promotion of an exchange so much sooner than our most sanguine expectations flattered us with, as ‘tis said to be with no small difficulty that a parole can be obtained, much more an exchange.”
“The cruise lasts for two and a half months, but if New York happens to bring us back, the time might be extended. However, visiting that powerful city is not part of the plan this time. It’s easy to imagine how frustrating it must be to miss out on the delightful treats of a prison ship. Although the Washington is considered an excellent ship and is well-armed, I won’t get my hopes up for escape, as 'the race isn't always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.' As I mentioned earlier, it’s not in the agreement to go there this time, especially since it’s said that the prisoners are already very crowded, and it would be quite callous to add to their unavoidable discomfort by our presence. Moreover, under such circumstances, we couldn’t expect Lady Luck to smile as kindly as she did before, in facilitating an exchange much sooner than we had anticipated, as it’s said that obtaining a parole is quite difficult, let alone an exchange.”
This cruise resulted in the capture by the Washington of several vessels, among them the Robust, Lord Sandwich, Barrington, and the Spitfire, a British privateer.
This cruise led to the Washington capturing several ships, including the Robust, Lord Sandwich, Barrington, and the Spitfire, a British privateer.
In May, 1781, Mr. Drowne sailed on board the Belisarius, commanded by Captain James Munro, which vessel was captured on the 26th of July and brought into the port of New York. Browne and the other officers were sent to the Jersey, where close confinement and all the horrors of the place soon impaired his vigorous constitution. Although he was, through the influence of his friends, allowed to visit Newport on parole in November, 1781, he was returned to the prison ship, and was not released until some time in 1783. His brother, who was a physician, nursed him faithfully, but he died on the 9th of August, 1786. Letters written on board the Jersey have a melancholy interest to the student of history, and this one, written by William Drowne to a Mrs. Johnston, of New York, is taken from the appendix to the “Recollections of Captain Dring.”
In May 1781, Mr. Drowne sailed on the Belisarius, commanded by Captain James Munro, which was captured on July 26 and brought to New York Harbor. Drowne and the other officers were sent to the Jersey, where strict confinement and the horrors of the place quickly took a toll on his strong health. Although, thanks to his friends' influence, he was allowed to visit Newport on parole in November 1781, he was sent back to the prison ship and wasn't released until sometime in 1783. His brother, a doctor, took care of him diligently, but he passed away on August 9, 1786. Letters written on board the Jersey hold a sad interest for history enthusiasts, and this one, written by William Drowne to a Mrs. Johnston of New York, is taken from the appendix to the “Recollections of Captain Dring.”
Jersey Prison Ship Sep. 25 1781
Jersey Prison Ship Sep. 25 1781
Madam:
Ma'am:
Your letter to Captain Joshua Sawyer of the 23d Inst, came on board this moment, which I being requested to answer, take the freedom to do, and with sensible regret, as it announces the dissolution of the good man. It was an event very unexpected. Tis true he had been for some days very ill, but a turn in his favor cancel’d all further apprehension of his being dangerous, and but yesterday he was able without assistance to go upon deck; said he felt much better, and without any further Complaints, at the usual time turned into his Hammock, and as was supposed went to sleep. Judge of our Surprise and Astonishment this morning at being informed of his being found a lifeless Corpse.
Your letter to Captain Joshua Sawyer from the 23rd just arrived on board, and I was asked to respond. I do so with heartfelt regret, as it conveys the passing of a good man. This news was quite unexpected. It’s true he had been very ill for several days, but a turn for the better had eased all concerns about his danger. Just yesterday, he was able to go on deck without help, mentioned he felt much better, and without any further complaints, he turned in for the night at the usual time, seemingly going to sleep. Imagine our shock and disbelief this morning when we learned he had been found a lifeless body.
Could anything nourishing or comfortable have been procured for him during his illness, ‘tis possible He might now have been a well man. But Heaven thought proper to take him to itself, and we must not repine.
Could anything nurturing or comforting have been provided for him during his illness, it's possible he could have been a healthy man now. But Heaven chose to take him to itself, and we should not complain.
A Coffin would have been procured in case it could be done seasonably, but his situation render’d a speedy Interment unavoidable. Agreeably to which 10 or 12 Gentlemen of his acquaintance presented a petition to the Commanding Officer on board, requesting the favor that they might be permitted, under the Inspection of a file of Soldiers, to pay the last sad duties to a Gentleman of merit; which he humanely granted, and in the Afternoon his remains were taken on shore, and committed to their native dust in as decent a manner as our situation would admit. Myself, in room of a better, officiated in the sacred office of a Chaplain and read prayers over the Corpse previous to its final close in its gloomy mansion. I have given you these particulars, Madam, as I was sensible it must give you great satisfaction to hear he had some friends on board. Your benevolent and good intentions to him shall, (if Heaven permits my return) be safely delivered to his afflicted wife, to give her the sensible Consolation that her late much esteemed and affectionate Husband was not destitute of a Friend, who had wish’d to do him all the good offices in his power, had not the hand of fate prevented.
A coffin would have been arranged if it could have been done in time, but his situation made a quick burial necessary. Accordingly, about 10 or 12 gentlemen he knew submitted a petition to the commanding officer on board, requesting permission to pay their last respects to a man of character, which he kindly granted. In the afternoon, his remains were taken ashore and buried as decently as circumstances allowed. I took on the role of chaplain and read prayers over the body before it was finally laid to rest. I’ve shared these details with you, Madam, because I thought it would bring you comfort to know he had friends with him. Your kind and good intentions towards him will, if I am fortunate enough to return, be conveyed to his grieving wife, providing her with the comforting knowledge that her beloved husband was not without a friend who wished to help him, had fate not intervened.
If you wish to know anything relative to myself—if you will give Yourself the trouble to call on Mrs. James Selhrig, she will inform You, or Jos. Aplin, Esqre.
If you want to know anything about me—if you take the time to visit Mrs. James Selhrig, she will let you know, or you can ask Jos. Aplin, Esq.
You will please to excuse the Liberty I have taken being an entire stranger. I have no Views in it but those of giving, as I said before, satisfaction to one who took a friendly part towards a Gentleman decease’d, whom I very much esteemed. Your goodness will not look with a critical eye over the numerous Imperfections of this Epistle.
Please excuse the freedom I've taken as a complete stranger. I have no intentions other than to provide, as I mentioned before, satisfaction to someone who showed kindness toward a gentleman who has passed away, someone I held in high regard. I hope you won't judge this letter too harshly despite its many imperfections.
I am, Madam, with every sentiment of respect
I am, Madam, with all due respect
yr most Obdt Servt
your most Obdt Servt
Wm. Drowne
Wm. Drowne
The next letter we will give was written by Dr. Solomon Drowne to his sister Sally. This gentleman was making every effort to obtain his brother’s release from captivity.
The next letter we’ll share was written by Dr. Solomon Drowne to his sister Sally. This gentleman was doing everything he could to secure his brother’s release from captivity.
Providence, Oct. 17 1781
Providence, October 17, 1781
Dear Sally:
Hey Sally:
We have not forgot you;—but if we think strongly on other objects the memory of you returns, more grateful than the airs which fan the Summer, or all the golden products of ye Autumn. The Cartel is still detained, for what reason is not fully known. Perhaps they meditate an attack upon some unguarded, unsuspecting quarter, and already in idea glut their eyes, with the smoke of burning Towns and Villages, and are soothed by the sounds of deep distress. Forbid it Guardian of America!—and rather let the reason be their fear that we should know the state of their shattered Navy and declining affairs—However, Bill is yet a Prisoner, and still must feel, if not for himself, yet what a mind like his will ever feel for others. In a letter I received from him about three weeks since he mentioned that having a letter to Mr. George Deblois, he sent it, accompanied with one he wrote requesting his influence towards effecting his return the next Flag,—that Mr. Deblois being indisposed, his cousin Captain William Deblois, taken by Monro last year, came on board to see him, with a present from Mr. Deblois of some Tea, Sugar, Wine, Rum, etc, and the offer of any other Civilities that lay in the power of either:—This was beneficence and true Urbanity,—that he was not destitute of Cash, that best friend in Adversity, except some other best friends,—that as long as he had health, he should, he had like to have said, be happy. In a word he bears up with his wonted fortitude and good spirits, as we say, nor discovers the least repining at his fate. But you and I who sleep on beds of down and inhale the untainted, cherishing air, surrounded by most endeared connexions, know that his cannot be the most delectable of situations: therefor with impatience we look for his happy return to the Circle of his Friends.
We haven't forgotten you; however, when we focus on other things, thoughts of you come back to us, more appreciated than the summer breeze or all the golden harvests of autumn. The Cartel is still being held up, and the reason isn’t entirely clear. Maybe they are planning an attack on some unguarded, unsuspecting area, picturing in their minds the smoke rising from burning towns and villages, comforted by the sounds of deep distress. God forbid! — and let it be that they fear we might learn about their crippled navy and declining situation. Still, Bill is a prisoner and must feel, if not for himself, then for what someone like him will always feel for others. In a letter I received from him about three weeks ago, he mentioned that he sent a letter to Mr. George Deblois, along with one he wrote asking for his help to get him back on the next flag. Since Mr. Deblois was unwell, his cousin, Captain William Deblois, who was captured by Monro last year, came aboard to see him, bringing a gift from Mr. Deblois of some tea, sugar, wine, rum, etc., along with the offer of any other kindness that either could provide. This was gracious and true hospitality—it showed that he wasn’t short on cash, that best friend in adversity, except for some other good friends. As long as he has his health, which he would have liked to say, he should be happy. In short, he remains strong and in good spirits, as we say, without showing the slightest discontent with his fate. But you and I, who sleep on soft beds and breathe in the clear, comforting air, surrounded by our closest connections, know that his situation can't be the most enjoyable. Therefore, we eagerly await his happy return to the circle of his friends.
Yr aff Bro.
Your bro.
Solomon Drowne
Solomon Drowne
DR. S. DROWNE TO MRS. MARCY DROWNE
DR. S. DROWNE TO MRS. MARCY DROWNE
Newport Nov. 14 1781
Newport, Nov 14, 1781
Respected Mother,
Dear Mom,
I found Billy much better than I expected, the account we received of his situation having been considerably exaggerated: However we ought to be thankful we were not deceived by a too favorable account, and so left him to the care of strangers, when he might most need the soothing aid of close relatives. He is very weak yet, and as a second relapse might endanger his reduced, tottering system, think it advisable not to set off for home with him till the wind is favorable. He is impatient, for the moment of its shifting, as he is anxious to see you all.
I found Billy to be much better than I expected; the report we got about his situation was significantly exaggerated. Still, we should be grateful that we weren't misled by an overly optimistic account, which could have left him in the hands of strangers when he really needed the comforting support of close family. He is still very weak, and since a second relapse could seriously jeopardize his fragile condition, I think it’s best not to head home with him until the wind is more favorable. He is restless, waiting for that change, as he’s eager to see all of you.
The boat is just going, Adieu, yr aff son
The boat is just leaving, goodbye, your affectionate son
Solomon Drowne
Solomon Drowne
We have already quoted from the Recollections of Jeremiah Johnson who lived on the banks of Wallabout Bay during the Revolution. He further says: “The prisoners confined in the Jersey had secretly obtained a crow-bar which was kept concealed in the berth of some confidential officer among the prisoners. The bar was used to break off the port gratings. This was done, in windy nights, when good swimmers were ready to leave the ship for the land. In this way a number escaped.
We have already cited the memories of Jeremiah Johnson, who lived by Wallabout Bay during the Revolution. He also states: “The prisoners locked up in the Jersey had secretly gotten a crowbar that was hidden in the bunk of some trusted officer among the prisoners. The bar was used to break off the port grates. This happened on windy nights, when skilled swimmers were prepared to leave the ship for the shore. In this way, several managed to escape."
“Captain Doughty, a friend of the writer, had charge of the bar when he was a prisoner on board of the Jersey, and effected his escape by its means. When he left the ship he gave the bar to a confidant to be used for the relief of others. Very few who left the ship were retaken. They knew where to find friends to conceal them, and to help them beyond pursuit.
“Captain Doughty, a friend of the author, was in charge of the bar while he was a prisoner on the Jersey and managed to escape using it. When he left the ship, he handed the bar to a trusted person to help others in need. Very few who escaped from the ship were recaptured. They knew where to find friends who could hide them and help them evade capture.”
“A singularly daring and successful escape was effected from the Jersey about 4 o’clock one afternoon in the beginning of Dec. 1780. The best boat of the ship had returned from New York between 3 & 4 o’clock, and was left fast at the gangway, with the oars on board. The afternoon was stormy, the wind blew from the north-east, and the tide ran flood. A watchword was given, and a number of prisoners placed themselves carelessly between the ship’s waist and the sentinel. At this juncture four Eastern Captains got on board the boat, which was cast off by their friends. The boat passed close under the bows of the ship, and was a considerable distance from her before the sentinel in the fo’castle gave the alarm, and fired at her. The second boat was manned for a chase; she pursued in vain; one man from her bow fired several shots at the boat, and a few guns were fired at her from the Bushwick shore; but all to no effect,—and the boat passed Hell-gate in the evening, and arrived safe in Connecticut next morning.
A daring and successful escape took place from the Jersey around 4 o’clock one afternoon at the beginning of December 1780. The best boat from the ship had returned from New York between 3 and 4 o’clock and was secured at the gangway, with the oars on board. The afternoon was stormy, with the wind blowing from the northeast and the tide flowing in. A watchword was given, and several prisoners positioned themselves casually between the ship's waist and the sentinel. At that moment, four Eastern Captains climbed aboard the boat, which was cast off by their friends. The boat passed close under the ship's bows and was quite far from her before the sentinel in the forecastle sounded the alarm and fired at her. The second boat was manned for a chase; however, it pursued in vain. One man from its bow fired several shots at the boat, and a few guns were fired at her from the Bushwick shore, but it was all for nothing. The boat passed Hell Gate in the evening and reached Connecticut safely the next morning.
“A spring of the writer was a favorite watering-place for the British shipping. The water-boat of the Jersey watered from this spring daily when it could be done; four prisoners were generally brought on shore to fill the casks, attended by a guard. The prisoners were frequently permitted to come to the (Johnstons’) house to get milk and food; and often brought letters privately from the prisoners. From these the sufferings on board were revealed.
“A spring where the writer worked was a popular stop for British shipping. The water-boat from Jersey filled up at this spring every day when possible; typically, four prisoners were brought ashore to fill the barrels, accompanied by a guard. The prisoners were often allowed to go to the (Johnstons’) house to get milk and food, and they frequently brought letters from the prisoners in private. These letters revealed the hardships faced on board.”
“Supplies of vegetables were frequently collected by Mr. Remsen (the benevolent owner of the mill,) for the prisoners; and small sums of money were sent on board by the writer’s father to his friends by means of these watering parties.”
“Mr. Remsen, the kind owner of the mill, often collected supplies of vegetables for the prisoners, and the writer’s father sent small amounts of money to his friends through these water delivery trips.”
AN ESCAPE FROM THE JERSEY
AN ESCAPE FROM JERSEY
“I was one of 850 souls confined in the Jersey in the summer of 1781, and witnessed several daring attempts to escape. They generally ended tragically. They were always undertaken in the night, after wrenching or filing the bar off the port-holes. Having been on board several weeks, and goaded to death in various ways, four of us concluded to run the hazard. We set to work and got the bars off, and waited impatiently for a dark night. We lay in front of Mr. Remsen’s door, inside of the pier head and not more that 20 yards distant. There were several guard sloops, one on our bow, and the other off our quarter a short distance from us. The dark night came, the first two were lowered quietly into the water; and the third made some rumbling. I was the fourth that descended, but had not struck off from the vessel before the guards were alarmed, and fired upon us. The alarm became general, and I was immediately hauled on board (by the other prisoners).
“I was one of 850 people locked up on the Jersey in the summer of 1781, and I saw several bold attempts to escape. They typically ended sadly. These attempts were always made at night, after prying or filing the bars off the portholes. After being on board for several weeks and driven to desperation in various ways, four of us decided to take the risk. We got the bars off and waited impatiently for a dark night. We lay in front of Mr. Remsen’s door, inside the pier head and no more than 20 yards away. There were several guard sloops, one in front of us and another a short distance behind us. When the dark night arrived, the first two were quietly lowered into the water; the third made some noise. I was the fourth to go down, but I hadn’t gotten far from the ship before the guards were alerted and shot at us. The alarm spread quickly, and I was immediately pulled back on board by the other prisoners.”
“They manned their boats, and with their lights and implements of death were quick in pursuit of the unfortunates, cursing and swearing, and bellowing and firing. It was awful to witness this deed of blood. It lasted about an hour,—all on board trembling for our shipmates. These desperadoes returned to their different vessels rejoicing that they had killed three damned rebels.
“They got into their boats, and with their lights and weapons, quickly chased after the unfortunate ones, cursing and yelling and firing. It was horrifying to see this act of violence. It went on for about an hour, with everyone on board worried for our shipmates. These outlaws returned to their respective boats celebrating that they had killed three miserable rebels.”
“About three years after this I saw a gentleman in John St., near Nassau, who accosted me thus: ‘Manley, how do you do?’ I could not recollect him. ‘Is it possible you don’t know me? Recollect the Old Jersey?’ And he opened his vest and bared his breast. I immediately said to him—‘You are James McClain.’ ‘I am,’ said he. We both stepped into Mariner’s public house, at the corner, and he related his marvellous escape to me.
“About three years later, I saw a guy on John St., near Nassau, who approached me and said, ‘Manley, how’s it going?’ I couldn’t remember him. ‘You don’t remember me? Think of the Old Jersey!’ And he opened his vest and showed me his chest. I immediately said to him, ‘You’re James McClain.’ ‘I am,’ he replied. We both went into Mariner’s pub at the corner, and he told me about his amazing escape.”
“‘They pursued me:—I frequently dived to avoid them, and when I came up they fired on me. I caught my breath, and immediately dived again, and held my breath till I crawled along the mud. They no doubt thought they killed me. I however, with much exertion, though weak and wounded, made out to reach the shore, and got into a barn, not far from the ship, a little north of Mr. Remsen’s house. The farmer, the next morning, came into his barn,—saw me lying on the floor, and ran out in a fright. I begged him to come to me, and he did, I gave an account of myself, where I was from, how I was pursued, with several others. He saw my wounds, took pity on me; sent for his wife, and bound up my wounds, and kept me in the barn until night-fall,—took me into his house, nursed me secretly, and then furnished me with clothing, etc., and when I was restored, he took me with him, into his market-boat to this city, and went with me to the west part of the city, provided me with a passage over to Bergen, and I landed somewhere in Communipaw. Some friends helped me across Newark Bay, and then I worked my way, until I reached Baltimore, to the great joy of all my friends.” [Footnote: “Recollections of Captain Manley”.]
“‘They chased me: I often dove to avoid them, and when I came up, they shot at me. I caught my breath and immediately dove again, holding it until I crawled through the mud. They probably thought they had killed me. However, with a lot of effort, even though I was weak and wounded, I managed to reach the shore and got into a barn near the ship, a little north of Mr. Remsen’s house. The farmer came into the barn the next morning, saw me lying on the floor, and ran out in a panic. I asked him to come back, and he did. I explained who I was, where I came from, and how I was chased along with several others. He saw my wounds, felt sorry for me, sent for his wife, bandaged my wounds, and kept me in the barn until nightfall. He then took me into his house, cared for me secretly, and provided me with clothes. When I was better, he took me with him in his market boat to this city, went with me to the west part of the city, helped me get a ride over to Bergen, and I landed somewhere in Communipaw. Some friends helped me across Newark Bay, and then I made my way until I reached Baltimore, to the great joy of all my friends.’ [Footnote: “Recollections of Captain Manley”.]
Just what proportion of captives died on board of the Jersey it is now impossible to determine. No doubt there were many escapes of which it is impossible to obtain the particulars. The winter of 1779-80 was excessively cold, and the Wallabout Bay was frozen over. One night a number of prisoners took advantage of this to make their escape by lowering themselves from a port hole on to the ice. It is recorded that the cold was so excessive that one man was frozen to death, that the British pursued the party and brought a few of them back, but that a number succeeded in making their escape to New Jersey. Who these men were we have been unable to discover. Tradition also states that while Wallabout Bay was thus frozen over the Long Island market women skated across it, with supplies of vegetables in large hampers attached to their backs, and that some of them came near enough to throw some of their supplies to the half-famished prisoners on board the Jersey.
Just how many captives died on board the Jersey is now impossible to figure out. It's clear there were many escapes, but we can’t get the details. The winter of 1779-80 was extremely cold, and Wallabout Bay froze over. One night, several prisoners took advantage of this and escaped by lowering themselves from a porthole onto the ice. It was reported that the cold was so intense that one man froze to death, the British chased the group and recaptured a few, but several managed to escape to New Jersey. We haven't been able to find out who these men were. There's also a tradition that when Wallabout Bay was frozen, women from the Long Island market skated across it, carrying large hampers of vegetables on their backs, and some got close enough to throw some supplies to the starving prisoners on board the Jersey.
It would appear that these poor sufferers had warm friends in the farmers who lived on the shores of the Wallabout. Of these Mr. A. Remsen, who owned a mill at the mouth of a creek which empties into the Bay, was one of the most benevolent, and it was his daughter who is said to have kept a list of the number of bodies that were interred in the sand in the neighborhood of the mill and house. In 1780 Mr Remsen hid an escaped prisoner, Major H. Wyckoff, for several days in one of his upper rooms, while at the same time the young lieutenant of the guard of the Jersey was quartered in the house. Remsen also lent Captain Wyckoff as much money as he needed, and finally, one dark night, safely conveyed him in a sleigh to Cow Neck. From thence he crossed to Poughkeepsie.
It seems these unfortunate people had kind friends among the farmers living along the Wallabout shores. One of the most generous was Mr. A. Remsen, who owned a mill at the mouth of a creek that flows into the Bay. His daughter is said to have kept track of the number of bodies buried in the sand near the mill and their home. In 1780, Mr. Remsen hid an escaped prisoner, Major H. Wyckoff, for several days in one of his upstairs rooms, while at the same time a young lieutenant guarding the Jersey was staying in the house. Remsen also lent Captain Wyckoff all the money he needed and, finally, on a dark night, safely transported him in a sleigh to Cow Neck. From there, he crossed over to Poughkeepsie.
Although little mention is made by those prisoners who have left accounts of their experiences while on board the Jersey, of any aid received by them from the American government the following passage from a Connecticut paper would seem to indicate that such aid was tendered them at least for a time. It is possible that Congress sent some provisions to the prison-ships for her imprisoned soldiers, or marines, but made no provision for the crews of privateers.
Although few prisoners who shared their experiences on the Jersey mention any help they got from the American government, the following excerpt from a Connecticut newspaper suggests that assistance was offered to them, at least for a while. It’s possible that Congress sent some supplies to the prison ships for their captive soldiers or marines but didn’t provide anything for the crews of privateers.
“New London. September 1st. 1779. D. Stanton testifies that he was taken June 5th, and put in the Jersey prison ship. An allowance from Congress was sent on board. About three or four weeks past we were removed on board the Good Hope, where we found many sick. There is now a hospital ship provided, to which they are removed and good attention paid.”
“New London. September 1st, 1779. D. Stanton reports that he was captured on June 5th and put on the Jersey prison ship. An allowance from Congress was sent on board. About three or four weeks ago, we were transferred to the Good Hope, where we found many sick people. There is now a hospital ship available for their care, and they are being looked after well.”
The next extract that we will quote probably refers to the escape of prisoners on the ice referred to above.
The next quote we will mention likely relates to the escape of prisoners on the ice mentioned earlier.
“New London. Conn. Feb. 16th. 1780. Fifteen prisoners arrived here who three weeks ago escaped from the prison-ship in the East River. A number of others escaped about the same time from the same ship, some of whom being frost-bitten and unable to endure the cold, were taken up and carried back, one frozen to death before he reached the shore.”
“New London, Conn. Feb. 16, 1780. Fifteen prisoners arrived here who escaped from the prison ship in the East River three weeks ago. A number of others also escaped around the same time from the same ship. Some of them, being frostbitten and unable to handle the cold, were picked up and taken back, and one froze to death before he reached the shore.”
“Rivington’s Gazette, Dec. 19th 1780. George Batterman, who had been a prisoner on board the prison ship at New York, deposes that he had had eight ounces of condemned bread per day; and eight ounces of meat. He was afterwards put on board the Jersey, where were, as was supposed, 1,100 prisoners; recruiting officers came on board and finding that the American officers persuaded the men not to enlist, removed them, as he was told, to the Provost. The prisoners were tempted to enlist to free themselves from confinement, hopeless of exchange. * * * The prisoners had a pint of water per day:—the sick were not sent to the hospitals until they were so weak and ill that they often expired before they got out of the Jersey. The commanding officer said his orders were that if the ship took fire we should all be turned below, and left to perish in the flames. By accident the ship took fire in the steward’s room, when the Hessian guards were ordered to drive the prisoners below, and fire among them if they resisted or got in the water.”
“Rivington’s Gazette, Dec. 19th 1780. George Batterman, who had been a prisoner on the prison ship in New York, stated that he received eight ounces of stale bread and eight ounces of meat each day. He was later transferred to the Jersey, which supposedly held about 1,100 prisoners. Recruiting officers boarded the ship and, after finding that the American officers were persuading the men not to enlist, moved them, as he was told, to the Provost. The prisoners were tempted to enlist to escape their captivity, desperate for a way out. * * * Each prisoner was given a pint of water per day: those who were sick were only sent to the hospitals when they were so weak and ill that many often died before getting out of the Jersey. The commanding officer claimed his orders were that if the ship caught fire, we would all be sent below and left to die in the flames. By chance, the ship did catch fire in the steward’s room, and the Hessian guards were instructed to force the prisoners below, firing at them if they resisted or tried to escape into the water.”
Talbot in his Memoirs stated that: “When the weather became cool and dry in the fall and the nights frosty the number of deaths on board the Jersey was reduced to an average of ten per day! which was small compared with the mortality for three months before. The human bones and skulls yet bleaching on the shore of Long Island, and exposed by the falling down of the high bank, on which the prisoners were buried, is a shocking sight.” (Talbot, page 106.)
Talbot in his Memoirs said: “When the weather turned cool and dry in the fall and the nights became frosty, the number of deaths on board the Jersey was reduced to an average of ten per day! This was small compared to the mortality rate for the three months before. The human bones and skulls still bleaching on the shore of Long Island, exposed by the collapse of the high bank where the prisoners were buried, is a shocking sight.” (Talbot, page 106.)
In May, 1808, one William Burke of New York testified that “He was a prisoner in the Jersey 14 months, has known many American prisoners put to death by the bayonet. It was the custom for but one prisoner at a time to go on deck. One night while many prisoners were assembled at the grate, at the hatchway to obtain fresh air, and waiting their turn to go on deck, a sentinel thrust his bayonet down among them, and 25 next morning were found to be dead. This was the case several mornings, when sometimes six, and sometimes eight or ten were found dead by wounds thus received.”
In May 1808, William Burke from New York testified that “He was a prisoner on the Jersey for 14 months and saw many American prisoners killed with bayonets. It was customary for only one prisoner at a time to go on deck. One night, while many prisoners were gathered at the grate by the hatchway to get fresh air and waiting their turn to go on deck, a guard thrust his bayonet down among them, and 25 were found dead the next morning. This happened on several mornings, with sometimes six and other times eight or ten found dead from wounds received this way.”
A Connecticut paper, some time in May, 1781, stated that. “Eleven hundred French and American prisoners died in New York last winter.”
A Connecticut newspaper reported sometime in May 1781 that, “Eleven hundred French and American prisoners died in New York last winter.”
A paper published in Philadelphia, on the 20th of February, 1782, says: “Many of our unfortunate prisoners on board the prison ships in the East River have perished during the late extreme weather, for want of fuel and other necessaries.”
A paper published in Philadelphia on February 20, 1782, states: “Many of our unfortunate prisoners on the prison ships in the East River have died during the recent severe weather due to a lack of fuel and other essentials.”
“New London. May 3rd. 1782. One thousand of our seamen remain in prison ships in New York, a great part in close confinement for six months past, and in a most deplorable condition. Five hundred have died during the past five or six months, three hundred are sick; many seeing no prospect of release are entering the British service to elude the contagion with which the prison ships are fraught.”
“New London. May 3rd, 1782. One thousand of our sailors are still in prison ships in New York, many of them in close confinement for the last six months and in a terrible state. Five hundred have died in the past five or six months, three hundred are ill; many, seeing no hope of release, are joining the British service to escape the disease that these prison ships are filled with.”
Joel Barlow in his Columbiad says that Mr. Elias Boudinot told him that in the Jersey 1,100 prisoners died in eighteen months, almost the whole of them from the barbarous treatment of being stifled in a crowded hold with infected air; and poisoned with unwholesome food, and Mr Barlow adds that the cruelties exercised by the British armies on American prisoners during the first years of the war were unexampled among civilized nations.
Joel Barlow in his Columbiad says that Mr. Elias Boudinot told him that in New Jersey, 1,100 prisoners died in eighteen months, almost all of them due to the brutal treatment of being suffocated in a crowded hold with contaminated air and suffering from unhealthy food. Mr. Barlow adds that the cruelty inflicted by the British armies on American prisoners during the early years of the war was unmatched among civilized nations.
CONCLUSION
Such of the prisoners as escaped after months of suffering with health sufficient for future usefulness in the field often re-enlisted, burning for revenge.
Those prisoners who escaped after months of suffering, with enough health to be useful in the field again, often re-enlisted, eager for revenge.
Mr. Scharf, in his “History of Western Maryland,” speaks of Colonel William Kunkel, who had served in Prussia, and emigrated to America about the year 1732. He first settled in Lancaster, Pa., but afterwards moved to Western Maryland. He had six sons in the Revolution. One of these sons entered the American army at the age of eighteen. Taken prisoner he was sent on board the Jersey, where his sufferings were terrible. On his return home after his exchange he vowed to his father that he would return to the army and fight until the last redcoat was driven out of the country. He did return, and from that time, says Mr Scharf, his family never heard from him again.
Mr. Scharf, in his “History of Western Maryland,” talks about Colonel William Kunkel, who served in Prussia and immigrated to America around 1732. He first settled in Lancaster, PA, but later moved to Western Maryland. He had six sons who fought in the Revolution. One of these sons joined the American army at eighteen. After being captured, he was put on the Jersey, where he endured terrible hardships. When he returned home after being exchanged, he promised his father that he would go back to the army and fight until every last redcoat was out of the country. He did go back, and from that point on, Mr. Scharf notes, his family never heard from him again.
Mr. Crimmins in his “Irish-American Historical Miscellany,” says: “An especially affecting incident is told regarding one prisoner who died on the Jersey. Two young men, brothers, belonging to a rifle corps were made prisoners, and sent on board the ship. The elder took the fever, and in a few days became delirious. One night as his end was fast approaching, he became calm and sensible, and lamenting his hard fate, and the absence of his mother, begged for a little water. His brother with tears, entreated the guard to give him some, but in vain. The sick youth was soon in his last struggles, when his brother offered the guard a guinea for an inch of candle, only that he might see him die. Even this was denied.”
Mr. Crimmins in his “Irish-American Historical Miscellany” says: “An especially touching story is shared about one prisoner who died on the Jersey. Two young men, brothers, who were part of a rifle corps were captured and sent aboard the ship. The older brother contracted a fever and soon became delirious. One night, as he was nearing the end, he grew calm and aware, lamenting his unfortunate fate and the absence of his mother, and asked for a little water. His brother, in tears, begged the guard to give him some, but it was to no avail. The sick young man was soon in his final moments when his brother offered the guard a guinea for a small piece of candle, just so he could see him die. Even that was refused.”
The young rifleman died in the dark.
The young rifleman died in the darkness.
“Now,” said his brother, drying his tears, “if it please God that I ever regain my liberty, I’ll be a most bitter enemy!”
“Now,” said his brother, wiping his tears, “if it’s God's will that I ever get my freedom back, I’ll be a really fierce enemy!”
He was exchanged, rejoined the army, and when the war ended he is said to have had eight large and one hundred and twenty-seven small notches on his rifle stock. The inference is that he made a notch every time he killed or wounded a British soldier, a large notch for an officer, and a small one for a private.
He was exchanged, rejoined the army, and when the war ended, it is said that he had eight large and one hundred and twenty-seven small notches on his rifle stock. The implication is that he made a notch each time he killed or wounded a British soldier, with a large notch for an officer and a small one for a private.
Mr. Lecky, the English historian, thus speaks of American prisoners: “The American prisoners who had been confined in New York after the battle of Long Island were so emaciated and broken down by scandalous neglect or ill usage that Washington refused to receive them in exchange for an equal number of healthy British and Hessian troops. * * * It is but justice to the Americans to add that their conduct during the war appears to have been almost uniformly humane. No charges of neglect of prisoners, like those which were brought, apparently with too good reason, against the English, were substantiated against them. The conduct of Washington was marked by a careful and steady humanity, and Franklin, also, appears to have done much to mitigate the war.”
Mr. Lecky, the English historian, describes American prisoners like this: “The American prisoners who were held in New York after the battle of Long Island were so thin and broken down due to shocking neglect or mistreatment that Washington refused to receive them in exchange for an equal number of healthy British and Hessian troops. * * * It’s only fair to say that the Americans seem to have acted almost entirely humanely during the war. No accusations of neglect towards prisoners, like those that were, apparently, rightly made against the English, were proven against them. Washington’s actions showed consistent and careful humanity, and Franklin also seems to have done a lot to ease the effects of the war.”
Our task is now concluded. We have concerned ourselves with the prisoners themselves, not much with the history of the negotiations carried on to effect exchange, but have left this part of the subject to some abler hand. Only a very small part of the story has been told in this volume, and there is much room for future investigations. It is highly probable that if a systematic search is made many unpublished accounts may be discovered, and a great deal of light shed upon the horrors of the British prisons. If we have awakened interest in the sad fate of so many of our brave countrymen, and aroused some readers to a feeling of compassion for their misfortunes, and admiration for their heroism, our task has not been in vain.
Our task is now complete. We focused on the prisoners themselves, rather than the history of the negotiations for their exchange, leaving that part of the subject to someone more skilled. Only a small portion of the story has been told in this volume, and there is plenty of room for further investigation. It's very likely that a thorough search will uncover many unpublished accounts, shedding a great deal of light on the horrors of British prisons. If we've sparked interest in the unfortunate fate of so many of our brave countrymen, and inspired some readers to feel compassion for their struggles and admiration for their courage, then our work has not been in vain.
APPENDIX A
LIST OF 8000 MEN WHO WERE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE OLD JERSEY
PRINTED BY PERMISSION OF THE SOCIETY OF OLD BROOKLYNITES
PRINTED BY PERMISSION OF THE SOCIETY OF OLD BROOKLYNITES
This list of names was copied from the papers of the British War Department. There is nothing to indicate what became of any of these prisoners, whether they died, escaped, or were exchanged. The list seems to have been carelessly kept, and is full of obvious mistakes in spelling the names. Yet it shall be given just as it is, except that the names are arranged differently, for easier reference. This list of prisoners is the only one that could be found in the British War Department. What became of the lists of prisoners on the many other prison ships, and prisons, used by the English in America, we do not know.
This list of names was taken from the files of the British War Department. There's no information about what happened to any of these prisoners—whether they died, escaped, or were exchanged. The list appears to have been poorly maintained and is full of obvious spelling mistakes in the names. Still, it will be provided as it is, except the names will be organized differently for easier reference. This is the only list of prisoners found in the British War Department. We have no idea what happened to the lists of prisoners from the many other prison ships and facilities operated by the British in America.
Garret Aarons
John Aarons (2)
Alexander Abbett
John Abbett
James Abben
John Abbott
Daniel Abbott
Abel Abel
George Abel
Jacob Aberry
Jabez Abett
Philip Abing
Thomas Abington
Christopher Abois
William Aboms
Daniel Abrams
Don Meegl (Miguel) Abusure
Gansio Acito
Abel Adams
Amos Adams
Benjamin Adams
David Adams
Isaac Adams
John Adams (4)
Lawrence Adams
Moses Adams
Nathaniel Adams
Pisco Adams
Richard Adams
Stephen Adams
Thomas Adams
Warren Adams
Amos Addams
Thomas Addett
Benjamin Addison
David Addon
John Adlott
Robert Admistad
Noah Administer
Wm Adamson (2)
John Adobon
James Adovie
Sebastian de Aedora
Jean Aenbie
Michael Aessinis
Frances Affille
Joseph Antonio Aguirra
Thomas Aguynoble
John Aires
Robert Aitken
Thomas Aiz
Manuel Ajote
Jacob Akins
Joseph Aker (2)
Richard Akerson
Charles Albert
Piere Albert
Robert Albion
Joachin Alconan
Joseph de Alcorta
Juan Ignacid Alcorta
Pedro Aldaronda
Humphrey Alden
Fred Aldkin
George Aldridge
Jacob Alehipike
Jean Aleslure
Archibald Alexander
John Alexander (2)
Lehle Alexander
William Alexander
Thomas Alger
Christopher Aliet
Joseph Aliev
George Alignott
Joseph Allah
Gideon Allan
Hugh Allan
Francis Allegree
Baeknel Allen
Bancke Allen
Benjamin Allen
Bucknell Allen
Ebeneser Allen
George Allen
Gideon Allen
Isaac Allen
John Allen (5)
Josiah Allen
Murgo Allen
Richard Allen (2)
Samuel Allen (7)
Squire Allen
Thomas Allen (3)
William Allen (4)
Jean Allin
Caleb Allis
Bradby Allison
Bradey Allison
James Allison
Frances Alment
Arrohan Almon
Aceth Almond
William Alpin
Jacob Alsfrugh
Jacob Alsough
Jacob Alstright
Jacob Alsworth
Thomas Alvarey
Miguel Alveras
Don Ambrose Alverd
Joseph Alvey
James Alwhite
George Alwood
James Alwood
Charles Amey
Anthony Amingo
Manuel Amizarma
Nathaniel Anabel
Austin Anaga
Jean Ancette
Charles Anderson
Joseph Anderson
Robert Anderson
William Anderson (3)
George Andre
Benjamin Andrews
Charles Andrews
Dollar Andrews
Ebeneser Andrews
Francis Andrews
Frederick Andrews
Jerediah Andrews
John Andrews (4)
Jonathan Andrews
Pascal Andrews
Philany Andrews
Thomas Andrews
William Andrews
Guillion Andrie
Pashal Andrie
Dominique Angola
Andre D. C. Annapolen
Joseph Anrandes
John Anson
William Anster
David Anthony
Davis Anthony
Samuel Anthony
Pierre Antien
Jacques Antiqua
Jean Anton
Francis Antonf
John Antonio
Daniel Appell
Daniel Apple
Thomas Appleby
Samuel Appleton
Joseph Aquirse
—— Arbay
Abraham Archer
James Archer
John Archer
Stephen Archer
Thomas Arcos
Richard Ariel
Asencid Arismane
Ezekiel Arme
Jean Armised
James Armitage
Elijah Armsby
Christian Armstrong
William Armstrong
Samuel Arnibald
Amos Arnold
Ash Arnold
Samuel Arnold
Charles Arnolds
Samuel Arnolds
Thomas Arnold
Andres Arral
Manuel de Artol
Don Pedro Asevasuo
Hosea Asevalado
James Ash
Henry Ash
John Ashbey
John Ashburn
Peter Ashburn
John Ashby
Warren Ashby
John Ashley
Andrew Askill
Francis Aspuro
John Athan
George Atkins
John Atkins
Silas Atkins
John Atkinson
Robert Atkinson
William Atkinson
James Atlin
Duke Attera
Jean Pierre Atton
John Atwood
Henry Auchinlaup
Joseph Audit
Anthony Aiguillia
Igarz Baboo Augusion
Peter Augusta
Thomas Augustine
Laurie Aujit
George Austin
Job Avery
Benjamin Avmey
Francis Ayres
Don Pedro Azoala
Garret Aarons
John Aarons (2)
Alexander Abbett
John Abbett
James Abben
John Abbott
Daniel Abbott
Abel Abel
George Abel
Jacob Aberry
Jabez Abett
Philip Abing
Thomas Abington
Christopher Abois
William Aboms
Daniel Abrams
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—— Arbay
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Franklin Babcock
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—— Bartholomew
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Pierre Bennett
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William Bentley
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Cabot Briggs
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Jonathan Brown
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Joseph Brown (3)
Michael Brown
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Patrick Brown
Peter Brown
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W. Brown
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Essick Brownhill
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B
Franklin Babcock
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Jean Babier
Abel Baboard
Vascilla Babtreause
Francis Bachelier
Jonathan Bachelor
Antonio Backalong
Francis Backay
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Esau Bacon
Judah Bacon
Stephen Badante
Laurence Badeno
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Jonathan Baddock
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Barnett Bagges
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Moses Baird
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Judah Baker
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Pamberton Baker
Pemberton Baker
Pembleton Baker
Thomas Baker (3)
David Baldwin
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John Baldwin
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Ralph Baldwin
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Jacob Bamper
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James Bandel
Augustine Bandine
Pierre Bandine
John Banister (2)
Matthew Bank
James Banker
John Banks
Matthew Banks
Jean Rio Bapbsta
Jean Baptista
Gale Baptist
Jean Baptist
John Barber
Gilbert Barber
John Barden
William Barenoft
Walter Bargeman
Joseph Bargeron
Charles Bargo
Mabas Bark
Benjamin Barker
Edward Barker
Jacom Barker
John Barker
Peter Barker
Thomas Barker
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Joseph Barkump
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Ethiem Barnell
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Henry Barnes
Wooding Barnes
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Henry Barney
Mons Barney
Samuel Barney
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Pierre Barratt
Abner Barre
Dennis Barrett
Enoch Barrett
Francis Barrett
Samuel Barrett
William Barrett
Robert Barrol
Bernard Barron
Enoch Barrott
Francis Barsidge
William Bartlet
Joseph Bartley
Charles Barthalemerd
Charles Bartholemew
Joseph Bartholomew
—— Bartholomew
Benjamin Bartholoyd
Petrus Bartlemie
Michael Bartol
Thomas Barton
John Basker
William Bason
Donnor Bass
Juvery Bastin
Michael Bastin
Louis Baston
Asa Batcheler
Benjamin Bate
Benjamin Bates
Henry Bates
James Bates
William Batt
John Battersley
John Battesker
Adah Batterman
Adam Batterman
George Batterman (2)
Joseph Batterman
—— Baumos
Thomas Bausto
Benjamin Bavedon
George Baxter
Malachi Baxter
Richard Bayan
Joseph Bayde
Thomas Bayess
John Bayley
Joseph Baynes
Jean Baxula
John Bazee
Daniel Beal
Samuel Beal
Joseph Beane
James Beankey
James Bearbank
Jesse Bearbank
Morgan Beard
Moses Beard
Daniel Beatty
Benjamin Beasel
Joseph Beaufort
Perri Beaumont
Andrew Beck
Thomas Beck
William Beckett
Jonathan Beckwith
Francis Bedell
Frederick Bedford
Joseph Bedford
Thomas Bedford
Benjamin Beebe
Elias Beebe
Joshua Beebe
Benjamin Beeford
James Beekman
Walter Beekwith
Lewis Begand
Joseph Begley
Joseph Belcher
John Belding
Pierre Belgard
Aaron Bell
Charles Bell
Robert Bell
Uriah Bell
Alexander Bellard
Joseph Belter
Julian Belugh
Jean Bengier
Joseph Benloyde
John Benn
George Bennett
John Bennett
Joseph Bennett
Peter Bennett
Pierre Bennett
Anthony Benson
Stizer Benson
David Benton
John Benton
Peter Bentler
Nathaniel Bentley (2)
Peter Bentley
William Bentley
Joshua M Berason
Joseoh Berean
Julian Berger
Lewis Bernall
Francis Bernardus
Francis Bercoute
Jean Juquacid Berra
Abner Berry
Alexander Berry
Benjamin Berry
Daniel Berry
Dennis Berry
Edward Berry
John Berry
Peter Berry (2)
Philip Berry
Simon Berry
William Berry (3)
Philip Berrycruise
William Berryman
Jean Bertine
Martin Bertrand
John Bertram
Andrew Besin
Jean Beshire
John Beszick
James Bett
Samuel Bevan
Jean Bevin
Benjamin Beverley
Robert Bibbistone
John Bice
Andrew Bick
John Bickety
Charles Bierd
David Bierd
Joshua Bievey
Benjamin Bigelow
Oliver Bigelow
Thomas Biggs
Jean Bilarie
Charles Bill (2)
Garden Bill
John Bill (2)
Pierre Bill
John Billard
James Biller
Samuel Billing
Benjamin Billings
Bradford Billings
Ezekiel Billings
Robert Billings
David Billows
Frarey Binnen
Cirretto Biola
Pierre Biran
Alexander Birch
Nathaniel Birch
Joseph Bird
Weldon Bird
Thomas Birket
Samuel Birmingham
Ezekiel Bishop
Israel Bishop
John Bishop (2)
John Bissell
Jack Bissick
Osee Bissole
Pierre Bitgayse
Peter Bitton
Daniel Black
James Black (3)
John Black
Joseph Black
Robert N Black
Samuel Black (2)
Timothy Black
William Black
John Blackburn
Alexander Blackhunt
William Blackpond
V C Blaine
John Blair
Charles Blake
Increase Blake
James Blake
Samuel Blake
Valentine Blake
David Blanch
Robert Blanch
Joseph Blancher
William Blanchet
John Blanney
Gideon Blambo
Jesse Blacque
Joseph Blateley
Lubal Blaynald
Asa Blayner
Edward Blevin
Benjamin Blimbey
William Blimbey
Joseph Blinde
William Bliss
Samuel Blissread
Juan Blodgett
Seth Blodgett
John Blond
Lewis Blone
Louis Blong
Peter Bloome (2)
Samuel Bloomfield
Jomes Blossom
James Blowen
John Bloxand
William Bluard
George Blumbarg
George Blunt (4)
William Blythe
Matthew Boar
John Bobier
John Bobgier
Joseph Bobham
Jonathan Bocross
Lewis Bodin
Peter Bodwayne
John Boelourne
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Purdon Boen
Roper Bogat
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Ralph Bogle
Nicholas Boiad
Pierre Boilon
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Jacques Bollier
William Bolt
William Bolts
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Henry Bone
Anthony Bonea
Jeremiah Boneafoy
James Boney
Thomas Bong
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John Booth
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Charles Borden
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Joseph Bortushes
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Jacques Bosse
Ebenezer Boswell
Gustavus Boswell
Lewis Bothal
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Walter Bottom
Augustin Boudery
Augustus Boudery
Anthony Bouea
Theophilus Boulding
Pierre Bounet
Lewis Bourge
John Boursbo
Lawrence Bourshe
Jean Boutilla
Lewis Bouton
Edward Boven
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Arden Bowen
Elijah Bowen
Ezekiel Bowen
Paldon Bowen
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William Bowen
Willis Bowen
James Bowers
Thomas Bowers
Fulbur Bowes
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Benjamin Bowman
Elijah Bowman (2)
John Bowman
Michael Bowner
John Bowrie
P I Bowree
Jean Bowseas
John Boyau
Thomas Boyd
John Boyde
David Boyeau
Francis Boyer
Joseph Boyne
Thomas Bradbridge
Samuel Bradbury
William Braden
James Brader
Samuel Bradfield
William Bradford
Abijah Bradley
Alijah Bradley
Daniel Bradley
James Bradley
Abraham Bradley
John Brady
James Bradyon
Ebenezer Bragg (2)
William Bragley
Nathaniel Braily
Zacheus Brainard
Joseph Bramer
Zachary Bramer
William Bramber
James Branart
Aholibah Branch
William Brand
Ralf Brandford
Charles Branel
William Bransdale
David Branson
Peter Braswan
Peter Brays (2)
Burden Brayton
Peter Brayton
John Bredford
James Brehard
Elijah Bremward
Pierre Brene
George Brent
Pierre Bretton
John Brewer
Samuel Brewer
Joseph Brewett
James Brewster (2)
Seabury Brewster
John Brice
Thomas Bridges
Glond Briges
Cabot Briggs
Alexander Bright
Henry Brim
Peter Brinkley
Ephraim Brion
Louis Brire
Thomas Brisk
Simon Bristo
Jalaher C Briton
Peter Britton
Thomas Britton
Ephraim Broad (3)
Ossia Broadley
Joseph Broaker
Joshua Brocton
Philip Broderick
William Broderick (2)
Joseph Broge
William Brooker
Charles Brooks (2)
Henry Brooks
Paul Brooks
Samuel Brooks (2)
Thomas Brooks
Benjamin Brown
Christopher Brown
David Brown (2)
Francis Brown
Gustavus Brown (3)
Hugh Brown (2)
Jacob Brown
James Brown (3)
Jonathan Brown
John Brown (12)
Joseph Brown (3)
Michael Brown
Nathaniel Brown
Patrick Brown
Peter Brown
Samuel Brown (3)
William Brown (5)
W. Brown
William Boogs Brown
Willis Brown
Essick Brownhill
Wanton Brownhill
Charles Brownwell
Gardner Brownwell
Pierre Brows
James Bruding
Lewis Brun
Daniel Bruton
Edward Bryan
John Bryan
Matthew Bryan
Nathaniel Bryan
William Bryan
Benjamin Bryand
Ephraim Bryand
James Bryant
William Bryant
Nicholas Bryard
Francis Bryean
Richard Bryen
Berr Bryon
Thomas Bryon
Simon Buas
Thomas Buchan
Francis Buchanan
Elias Buck
Elisha Buck
John Buck
Joseph Bucklein
Philip Buckler
Cornelius Buckley
Daniel Buckley (2)
Francis Buckley
Jacob Buckley
John Buckley (3)
Daniel Bucklin (2)
Samuel Buckwith
David Buckworth
Benjamin Bud
Nicholas Budd
Jonathan Buddington
Oliver Buddington
Waller Buddington
William Budgid
John Budica
Joshua Buffins
Lawrence Buffoot
John Bugger
Silas Bugg
John Buldings
Jonathan Bulgedo
Benjamin Bullock
Thomas Bullock
Benjamin Bumbley
Lewis Bunce
Norman Bunce
Thomas Bunch
Antonio Bund
Obadiah Bunke
Jonathan Bunker
Timothy Bunker
William Bunker
Richard Bunson (2)
Murdock Buntine
Frederick Bunwell
Thomas Burch
Michael Burd
Jeremiah Burden
Joseph Burden
William Burden
Jason Burdis
Daniel Burdit
Bleck Burdock
Robert Burdock
Vincent Burdock
Henry Burgess
Theophilus Burgess
Barnard Burgh
Prosper Burgo
Jean Burham
James Burke
Thomas Burke
William Burke
Michael Burkman
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Frederick Burnett
James Burney
James Burnham
Daniel Burnhill
Archibald Burns
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Henry Burns
John Burns
Thomas Burns
Stephen Burr
Pierre Burra
Francis Burrage
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Lewis Burrell
Isaac Burrester
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Nathaniel Burris
John Burroughs
Edward Burrow
James Burton
John Burton
Jessee Byanslow
Bartholomew Byi
John Bylight
C
Abel Cable
Louis Cadat
Louis Pierre Cadate
Michael Cadate
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Nathan Caddock
Jean Cado
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Jonathan Cahoone
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Thomas Cain
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Joseph Caivins
Pierre Cajole
Thomas Calbourne
James Calder
Caplin Calfiere
Nathaniel Calhoun
Charles Call
Barnaby Callagham
Daniel Callaghan
William Callehan
James Callingham
Andrew Caiman
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Parpi Calve
Nicholas Calwell
Joseph Cambridge
Edward Cameron
Simon Came
Oseas Camp
Alexander Campbell
Frederick Campbell
James Campbell
Jesse Campbell
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Joseph Campbell
Philip Campbell (2)
Robert Campbell
Thomas Campbell (2)
James Canady
Joseph Canana
Satarus Candie
Jacob Canes
Richard Caney
Jacob Canmer
William Cannady
William Canner
Charles Cannon
Francis Cannon
John Cannon
Joseph Cannon
Samuel Cannon
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Alias Crawford
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Guilliam Dabuican
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E
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Christian Eyes
```html
E
David Each
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```
F
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Iman Futter
F
Jean Paul Fabalue
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W Fielding
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Ward Filton
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Asel Fish
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Nathan Fisher
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William Fisk
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Solomon Fist
Ebenezer Fitch
Jedeiah Fitch
Josiah Fitch
Peter Fitch
Theopilus Fitch
Timothy Fitch
Henry Fitchett
William Fithin
Cristopher Fitts
Patrick Faroh Fitz
Edward Fitzgerald
Patrick Fitzgerald
Thomas Fleet
John Fletcher
John Fling
William Fling
John Flinn
Berry Floyd
Michael Fluort
Thomas Fogg
Francis Follard
Jonathan Follett
Stephen Follows
John Folsom
John Folston
Joseph Fomster
Louis Fongue
Daniel Foot
Samuel Foot
Zakiel Foot
John Footman
Peter Forbes
Bartholomew Ford (3)
Daniel Ford
George Ford (2)
John Ford
Philip Ford
William Ford
Benjamin Fordham
Daniel Fore
Hugh Foresyth
Vancom Forque
Matthew Forgough
George Forket
Samuel Forquer
Nathaniel Forrest
Francis Forster
Timothy Forsythe
John Fort
Anthony Fortash
Emanuel Fortaud
Tohn Fortune
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Andrew Foster
Asa Foster
Boston Foster
Conrad Foster
Edward Foster
Ephraim Poster
Henry Foster (2)
George Foster
Jacob Foster
Jebediah Foster
Josiah Foster (2)
John Foster (6)
Nathaniel Foster
Nicholas Foster
William Foster
Ephraim Fostman
John Fouber
Francis Foubert
William Foulyer
Edward Fousler
Pruden Fouvnary
Gideon Fowler
James Fowler (2)
John Fowler (2)
Joseph Fowler
Michael Fowler
John Butler Foy
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Jared Foyer
Ebenezer Fox
William Fox (3)
Jacob Frailey (2)
Fortain Frances
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Thomas Frasier
Nathaniel Frask
John F Fravers
John Fravi
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Jonathan French
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Shadrach Friend
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Isaac Frisby
Josiah Frith
John Frost
Joseph Frost (2)
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James Fry (2)
Robert Fry
Abijah Fryske
Joseph Fubre
Joseph Fuganey
Joshua Fulger
Reuben Fulger
Stephen Fulger
Benjamin Fuller
James Fuller
Joseph Fuller
Thaddeus Fuller
Thomas Fuller (2)
George Fullum
James Fulton
Thomas Fulton
Abner Furguson
Samuel Furguson
John Furse
John Fury
Iman Futter
G
Eudrid Gabria
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Franes Gabriel
Hernan Gage
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Stephen Gage
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—— Garner
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Riviere de Ggoslin
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William Gill
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Eli Goodnow
Elizer Goodrich
Jesse Goodrich
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George Goodwin
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Ozeas Goodwin
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—— Goquie
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Pierre Gurad
Anthony Gurdell
Franes Gusboro
George Guster
Jean Joseph Guthand
Francis Guvare
William Gwinnup
G
Eudrid Gabria
Francis Gabriel
Franes Gabriel
Hernan Gage
Isaac Gage
Matthew Gage
Stephen Gage
Jonas Gale
Joseph Galina
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—— Garner
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H
Samuel Hacker
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Samuel Heart
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William Henderson
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George Hooker
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Sweet Hooper
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Augusta Horns
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Seren House
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John Howe
Thomas Howe
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John Howell
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Waller Howell
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Phineas Hudson
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Negro Huson
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H
Samuel Hacker
John Hackett
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Anthony de la Hage
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John Haglus
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William Haldron
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Spence Hall
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William Hall
Willis Hall
Thomas Hallahan
James Hallaughan
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James Hallett (2)
Ephraim Halley
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Richard Halley
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Levi Ham
Reuben Hambell
William Hamber
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John Hamilton (2)
William Hamilton (2)
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Joseph Hammond
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Stephen Hanagan
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Elijah Hand
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Thomas Hand
William Hand
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Patrick Hanes
Samuel Hanes
John Haney
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Every Hanks
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Peter Harcourt
Jean Hard
Lewis Harden
Richard Harden
William Harden
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Nathaniel Harding (2)
George Hardy
James Hardy
Joseph Hardy (2)
Thomas Harens
John Harfun
Joel Hargeshonor
Jacob Hargous
Abraham Hargus
Thomas Harkasy
John Harket
Solomon Harkey
Thomas Harkins
Charles Harlin
Selden Harley
Solomon Harley
Byron Harlow
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Richard Harman
John Harmon
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John Harragall
Lewis Harrett
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Daniel Harrington
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Edward Harris
Francis Harris
George Harris
Hugh Harris
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John Harris (2)
Joseph Harris
Nathaniel Harris (2)
Robert Harris
William Harris
Charles Harrison
Elijah Harrison
Gilbert Harrison
John Harrison
William Harron
Charles Harroon
Cornelius Hart
Jacob de Hart
John Hart
Samuel Hartley
Jacob Hartman
James Hartshorne
Thomas Hartus
John Harwood
John Harvey
Peter Haselton
Michael Hashley
Philip Hashton
John Hasker
Jacob Hassa
John Hassett
John Hassey
Benjamin Hatam
Charles Hatbor
Edward Hatch
Jason Hatch
Nailor Hatch
Prince Hatch
Reuben Hatch
William Hatch
Edward Hatchway
Burton Hathaway
Jacob Hathaway
Russell Hathaway
Woolsey Hathaway
Andrew Hatt
Shadrach Hatway
Michael Haupe
Jacob Hauser
William Hawke
Jacob Hawker
John Hawker
John Hawkin
Christopher Hawkins
Jabez Hawkins
John Hawkins (2)
Thomas Hawkins
Jacob Hawstick
John Hawston
George Haybud
Benjamin Hayden
Nicholas Hayman
David Hayne
Joseph Haynes
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Thomas Haynes
William Haynes
David Hays
Patrick Hays
Thomas Hays
William Hays
William Haysford
Benjamin Hazard
John Hazard
Samuel Heageork
Gilbert Heart
Samuel Heart
Joseph Hearth
Charles Heath
Joseph Heath
Seren Heath
Seson Heath
Jack Hebell
Heraclus Hedges
George Heft
Edmund Helbow
Matthias Hellman
Lacy Helman
Thomas Helman
Odera Hemana
Daniel Hemdy
Jared Hemingway
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Ephraim Henderson
Joseph Henderson
Michael Henderson
Robert Henderson
William Henderson
Archibald Hendray
Robert Hengry
Leeman Henley
Butler Henry
James Henry
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Joseph Henry
Michael Henry (2)
William Henry (2)
John Hensby
Patrick Hensey (2)
Enos Henumway
Dennis Henyard
Samson Herart
Thomas Herbert
Philip Herewux
Ephraim Herrick
John Herrick (2)
William Herrick
Michael Herring
William Herring
Robert Herrow
Robert Herson
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Augustin Hertros
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John Hetherington
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Lewis Hewit
William Heysham
Diah Hibbett
John Hibell
Michael Hick
Daniel Hickey
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Benjamin Hicks
John Hicks
Isaac Higgano
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Ichabod Higgins
Samuel Higgins
Stoutly Higgins
William Higgins (3)
Henry Highlander
John Highlenede
John Hill (2)
James Hill
Joshua Hill (2)
Thomas Hill (2)
Edward Hilley
James Hilliard
Joseph Hilliard
Nicholas Hillory
Hale Hilton
Nathaniel Hilton
Benjamin Himsley
Peter Hinch
James Hines
William Hinley
Aaron Hinman
William Hinman
Nathaniel Hinnran
Jonathan Hint
John Hirich
Christian Hiris
Samuel Hiron
John Hisburn
Nathaniel Hise
Samuel Hiskman
John Hislop
Philip Hiss
Loren Hitch
Robert Hitch
Joseph Hitchband
Edward Hitchcock
Robert Hitcher
John Hitching
Arthur Hives
Willis Hoag
Edwin Hoane
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William Hobbs
Jacob Hobby
Nathaniel Hobby
Joseph Hockless
Hugh Hodge
Hercules Hodges (2)
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Conrad Hoffman
Cornelius Hoffman
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Stephen Hogan
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Ephraim Hoist
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William Holden
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Michael Holloway
Myburn Holloway
Grandless Holly
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James Holmes
Joseph Holmes
Nathaniel Holmes
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George Holmstead
Charles Hole
Samuel Holt
James Home
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William Homer
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Nicholas Hoogland (2)
George Hook
John Hook (2)
George Hooker
Ezekiel Hooper
John Hooper (3)
Michael Hooper (3)
Sweet Hooper
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Christopher Hopkins
John Hopkins
Michael Hopkins
Stephen Hopkins
William Hopkins
Edward Hopper
John Hopper
Richard Hopping
Levi Hoppins
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Jacob Horne
John Horne
Ralph Horne
Samuel Horne
Augusta Horns
Michael Horoe
Charles Horsine
Ephraim Hort
Jean Hosea
John Hosey
Jean Hoskins
James Hottahon
Ebenezer Hough
Enos House
Seren House
Noah Hovard
Joseph Hovey
John Howe
Absalom Howard
Ebenezer Howard
John Howard
Richard Howard
Thomas Howard
William Howard (3)
James Howburn
Edward Howe
John Howe
Thomas Howe
Ebenezer Howell
Jesse Howell
Jonathan Howell
John Howell
Luke Howell
Michael Howell
Thomas Howell
Waller Howell
William Howell
Daniel Howland
Joseph Howman
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Dolphin Hubbard
Jacob Hubbard
James Hubbard
Joel Hubbard
Moses Hubbard
William Hubbard
Abel Hubbell
William Huddle
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Fawrons Hudson
John Hudson
Phineas Hudson
John Huet
Conrad Huffman
Stephen Huggand
John Huggins
Abraham Hughes
Felix Hughes
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Greenord Hughes
Jesse Hughes
John Hughes
Peter Hughes
Thomas Hughes
Pierre Hujuon
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Clement Humphries
W W Humphries
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Robert Hunt
Alexander Hunter
Ezekiel Hunter
George Hunter
Robert Hunter
Turtle Hunter
Rechariah Hunter
Elisha Huntington
Joseph Harand
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Joseph Hurd
Simon Hurd
Asa Hurlbut
George Husband
John Husband
Negro Huson
Charles Huss
Isaac Huss
Jesse Hussey
James Huston
Zechariah Hutchins
Esau Hutchinson
John Hutchison
Abraham Smith Hyde
Vincent Hyer
I. — Joseph Ignacis
Ivede Sousis Illiumbe
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Joshua Ingraham
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Joseph Ireland
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George Ismay
Gospar Israel
James Ivans
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Francis D Izoguirre
I. — Joseph Ignacis
Ivede Sousis Illiumbe
Benjamin Indecot
Isaac Indegon
John Ingersall
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John Ingraham
Joseph Ingraham
Joshua Ingraham
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Joseph Irasetto
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James Ireland
Joseph Ireland
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George Irwin
Michael Irwin
Isaac Isaacs
George Ismay
Gospar Israel
James Ivans
John Ivington
Francis D Izoguirre
J
Michael Jacen
Black Jack
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Frederick Jacks (2)
George Jacks (2)
Henry Jacks
John Jacks
John Jackson
James Jackson
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Peter Jackson
Robert Jackson
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Lewis Jacques
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Ryan James
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Daniel Jamison
Josiah Janes
Jean Jardin
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Petuna Jarvis
Negro Jask
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Clement Jean
Joseph Jean
William Jean
Benjamin Jeanesary
Roswell Jeffers
Samuel Jeffers
James Jeffrey
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Joseph Jeffries
Philip Jeffries
George Jemrey
Pierre Jengoux
David Jenkin
Enoch Jenkins
George Jenkins
Solomon Jenkins
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John Jenney
Langdon Jenney
Langhorn Jenney
Nathaniel Jennings
Thomas Jennings
William Jennings
John Jenny
Langhorn Jenny
Frances Jerun
Abel Jesbank
Oliver Jethsam
Germain Jeune
Silas Jiles
Nathan Jinks
Moses Jinney
Verd Joamra
Manuel Joaquire
Robert Job
—— Joe
Thomas Joel
Elias Johnson (2)
Francis Johnson
George Johnson
James Johnson (3)
John Johnson (3)
Joseph Johnson
Major Johnson
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Stephen Johnson
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Ebenezer Johnston
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George Johnston
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Major Johnston
Michael Johnston
Miller Johnston
Paul Johnston
Peter Johnston
Robert Johnston (3)
Samuel Johnston
Simon Johnston
Stephen Johnston
William Johnston (8)
William B. Johnston
James Johnstone
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Thomas Joil
Adam Jolt
—— Joan
Benjamin Jonas
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Beal Jones
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Darl Jones
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James Jones
Jib Jones
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Jean Jordan
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Philip Jordan
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Thomas Jowe
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Randon Jucba
Manuel Joseph Jucerria
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George Juster
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Simeon Justive
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Philip Justus
J
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T
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William Terry
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Seren Thaxter
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—— Thomas
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Solomon Tucker
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Daily Twoomey
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John Tyse
U
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U
Urson Ullaby
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V. — Peter Vaidel
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V. — Peter Vaidel
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Lange Vin
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Matthew Wood
Samuel Wood (2)
William Wood
Herbert Woodbury (3)
Jacob Woodbury
Luke Woodbury
Nathaniel Woodbury
Robert Woodbury
William Woodbury
Thomas Woodfall
David Woodhull
Henry Woodly
Nathaniel Woodman
James Woodson
Joseph Woodward
Gideon Woodwell
Abel Woodworth
Edward Woody
John Woody
Michael Woolock
Michael Woomstead
James Woop
William Wooten
James Worthy
John Wright
Robert Wright
Benjamin Wyatt
John Wyatt (2)
Gordon Wyax
Reuben Wyckoff
William Wyer
Henry Wylie
W
Christian Wadde
Benjamin Wade
Thomas Wade (2)
Christopher Wadler
Richard Wagstaff
Joseph Wainwright
Jacob Wainscott
Matthew Wainscott
Charles Waistcoott
Ezekiel Waistcoat
Jabez Waistcoat
Jacob Waistcoat
John Waistcoat
Joseph Waiterly
Joseph Wakefield
Joseph Walcot
Asa Walden
George Walding
John Waldrick
Ephraim Wales
Samuel Wales
Baldwin Walker
Daniel Walker
Ezekiel Walker
George Walker
Hezekiah Walker
John Walker
Joseph Walker
Michael Walker (4)
Nathaniel Walker (4)
Richard Walker
Samuel Walker (2)
Thomas Walker (2)
William Walker (3)
James Wall
Bartholomew Wallace
John Wallace
Joseph Wallace
Thomas Wallace (2)
Ebenezer Wallar
Joseph Wallen
Caleb Waller
George Wallesly
Anthony Wallis
Benjamin Wallis
Ezekiel Wallis
George Wallis
Hugh Wallis
James Wallis
John Wallis
Jonathan Wallis
John Wallore
Edward Walls
William Wallsey
William Walmer
Robert Walpole
John Walsey
Patrick Walsh
George Walter
John Walter
Joseph Walter
Jonathan Walters
Roger Walters
Henry Walton
John Walton
Jonathan Walton
John Wandall
Ezekiel Wannell
Powers Wansley
Michael Wanstead
George Wanton
Benjamin Ward
Charles Ward
Christenton Ward
David Ward
Joseph Ward
Simon Ward
Thomas Ward
William Ward
John Warde
Benjamin Wardell
John Wardell
James Wardling
Elijah Wareman
William Warf
Unit Warky
Joseph Warley
Joseph Warmesley
William Taylor Warn
Christopher Warne
Andrew Warner
Amos Warner
Berry Warner
John Warner
Obadiah Warner
Samuel Warner (2)
Thomas Warner
Robert Warnock
Christopher Warrell
Benjamin Warren
Jonathan Warren
Obadiah Warren
Richard Warringham
William Warrington
Thomas Warsell
Lloyd Warton
Joseph Wartridge
Townsend Washington
Asher Waterman (2)
Azariah Waterman
Calvin Waterman
John Waterman
Samuel Waterman
Thomas Waterman
William Waterman (3)
Henry Waters
John Waters
Thomas Waters
John Watkins
Thomas Watkins (4)
Edward Watson
Joseph Watson
Henry Watson (2)
John Watson (5)
Nathaniel Watson
Robert Watson
Thomas Watson (5)
William Watson
John Watt
William Wattle
Henry Wattles
Joseph Watts
Samuel Watts
Thomas Watts
Andrew Waymore
James Wear
Jacob Weatherall
Joseph Weatherox
Thomas Weaver
Jacob Webb
James Webb
John Webb (3)
Jonathan Webb
Michael Webb
Nathaniel Webb
Oliver Webb
Thomas Webb (2)
William Webb (2)
Joseph Webber
William Webber (2)
George Webby
Francis Webster
William Wedden
John Wedger
David Wedon
William Weekman
Francis Weeks (2)
James Weeks
Seth Weeks
Thomas Weeks
John Welanck
Ezekiel Welch
George Welch
Isaac Welch
James Welch (5)
Matthew Welch
Moses Welch
Philip Welch
Joseph Wenthoff
Nellum Welk
John Wellis
John Wellman
Matthew Wellman
Timothy Wellman
Cornelius Wells
Ezra Wells
Gideon Wells
Joseph Wells
Peter Wells
Richard Wells
William Wells
Joseph Welpley
David Welsh
John Welsh
Patrick Wen
Isaac Wendell
Robert Wentworth
Joseph Wessel
William Wessel
John Wessells
Benjamin West
Edward West
Jabez West (3)
Richard West (2)
Samuel Wester
Henry Weston
Simon Weston
William Weston
Philip Westward
Jesse Wetherby
Thomas Whade
John Wharfe
Lloyd Wharton
Michael Whater
Jesse Wheaton
Joseph Wheaton
Henry Wheeler
Michael Wheeler
Morrison Wheeler
William Wheeler (2)
Michael Whelan
Michael Whellan
James Whellan
Jesse Whelton
John Whelton
Horatio Whethase
John Whila
Benjamin Whipple (2)
Samuel Whipple
Stephen Whipple
Christopher Whippley
Benjamin White (2)
Ephraim White
Ichabod White
James White
John White (7)
Lemuel White
Joseph White
Lemuel White
Richard White
Robert White
Sampson White (2)
Samuel White (2)
Thomas White (2)
Timothy White
Watson White
William White (3)
Jacob Whitehead
Enoch Whitehouse
Harmon Whiteman
Luther Whitemore
William Whitepair
Card Way Whithousen
George Whiting (2)
James Whiting
William Whiting
John Whitlock
Joseph Whitlock
William Whitlock
Samuel Whitmolk
George Whitney
Isaac Whitney
James Whitney
John Whitney
Peter Whitney
Joseph Whittaker
Jacob Whittemore
Felix Wibert
Conrad Wickery
Joseph Wickman
Samuel Wickward
Leron Widgon
John Wier (2)
John Wigglesworth
Irwin Wigley
Michael Wiglott
Stephen Wigman
John Wigmore
Edward Wilcox (2)
Isaac Wilcox
Obadiah Wilcox
Pardon Wilcox
Robert Wilderidger
Charles Wilkins
Amos Wilkinson
William Wilkinson
George Willard
John Willard
Julian Willard
John Willeman
Benjamin Willeroon
James Willet
Conway Willhouse
Amos Williams
Barley Williams
Benjamin Williams
Cato Williams
Charles Williams
Dodd Williams
Edward Williams
Ephraim Williams
Ethkin Williams
George Williams (3)
Henry Williams (2)
Isaac Williams (2)
James Williams (4)
Jeffrey Williams
John Williams (9)
Jonathan Williams (2)
Moses Williams
Nathaniel Williams
Nicholas Williams
Peter Williams
Richard Williams
Samuel Williams (2)
William Williams (2)
William Williamson
John Foster Willian
John Williman
Day Willin
Abel Willis
Frederick Willis
John Willis (2)
Jesse Willis
Abraham Williston
Joseph Willman
Abraham Willor
Guy Willoson
Benjamin Willshe
Benjamin Willson
Francis Willson
James Willson (2)
John Willson
Martin Willson
Thomas Willson
Timothy Willson
W. Willson
William Willson
Samuel Wilmarth
Luke Wilmot
Benjamin Wilson (2)
Edward Wilson
George Wilson
John Wilson
Lawrence Wilson
Nathaniel Wilson
Patrick Wilson
William Wilson
George Wiltis
Vinrest Wimondesola
Guilliam Wind
Edward Windgate
Joseph Windsor
Stephen Wing
Jacob Wingman
Samuel Winn
Jacob Winnemore
Seth Winslow
Charles Winter
George Winter
Joseph Winters
David Wire
John Wise
Thomas Witham
John Witherley
Solomon Witherton
William Withpane
William Witless
Robert Wittington
W. Wittle
John Woesin
Henry Woist
Henry Wolf
John Wolf
Simon de Wolf
Stephen de Wolf
Champion Wood
Charles Wood (3)
Daniel Wood (4)
Edward Wood (2)
George Wood
Jabez Wood
John Wood
Jonathan Wood
Joseph Wood (2)
Justus Wood
Matthew Wood
Samuel Wood (2)
William Wood
Herbert Woodbury (3)
Jacob Woodbury
Luke Woodbury
Nathaniel Woodbury
Robert Woodbury
William Woodbury
Thomas Woodfall
David Woodhull
Henry Woodly
Nathaniel Woodman
James Woodson
Joseph Woodward
Gideon Woodwell
Abel Woodworth
Edward Woody
John Woody
Michael Woolock
Michael Woomstead
James Woop
William Wooten
James Worthy
John Wright
Robert Wright
Benjamin Wyatt
John Wyatt (2)
Gordon Wyax
Reuben Wyckoff
William Wyer
Henry Wylie
X. — John Xmens
X. — John Xmen
Y
Joseph Yalkington
Joseph Yanger
Joseph Yard
Thomas Yates
Francis Yduchare
Adam Yeager
Jacob Yeason
Jacob Yeaston
Pender Yedrab
George Yoannet
Edward Yorke
Peter Yose
Alexander Young
Archibald Young
Charles Young
George Young
Ichabod Young
Jacob Young
John Young (2)
Marquis Young (2)
Seth Young
William Young
Charles Youngans
Louis Younger
Y Joseph Yalkington Joseph Yanger Joseph Yard Thomas Yates Francis Yduchare Adam Yeager Jacob Yeason Jacob Yeaston Pender Yedrab George Yoannet Edward Yorke Peter Yose Alexander Young Archibald Young Charles Young George Young Ichabod Young Jacob Young John Young (2) Marquis Young (2) Seth Young William Young Charles Youngans Louis Younger
Z
Jean Peter Zamiel
Pierre Zuran
Z
Jean Peter Zamiel
Pierre Zuran
APPENDIX B
THE PRISON SHIP MARTYRS OF THE REVOLUTION, AND AN UNPUBLISHED DIARY OF ONE OF THEM, WILLIAM SLADE, NEW CANAAN, CONN., LATER OF CORNWALL, VT.
THE PRISON SHIP MARTYRS OF THE REVOLUTION, AND AN UNPUBLISHED DIARY OF ONE OF THEM, WILLIAM SLADE, NEW CANAAN, CONN., LATER OF CORNWALL, VT.
The following extremely interesting article on the prisoners and prison ships of the Revolution was written by Dr. Longworthy of the United States Department of agriculture for a patriotic society. Through his courtesy I am allowed to publish it here. I am sorry I did not receive it in time to embody it in the first part of this book.
The following fascinating article about the prisoners and prison ships during the Revolution was written by Dr. Longworthy of the United States Department of Agriculture for a patriotic society. Thanks to his generosity, I’m able to share it here. I regret that I didn’t get it in time to include it in the first part of this book.
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Doubtless all of us are more or less familiar with the prison ship chapter of Revolutionary history, as this is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, tragedies of the struggle for independence. At the beginning of the hostilities the British had in New York Harbor a number of transports on which cattle and stores had been brought over in 1776. These vessels lay in Gravesend Bay and later were taken up the East River and anchored in Wallabout Bay, and to their number were added from time to time vessels in such condition that they were of no use except as prisons for American troops The names of many of these infamous ships have been preserved, the Whitby, the Good Hope, the Hunter, Prince of Wales, and others, and worst of all, the Jersey.
Sure, here's the modernized paragraph: There's no doubt that most of us are somewhat familiar with the chapter on prison ships in Revolutionary history, as it's one of the greatest, if not the greatest, tragedies of the fight for independence. At the start of the conflict, the British had several transport ships in New York Harbor that had brought over cattle and supplies in 1776. These ships were docked in Gravesend Bay and later moved up the East River to anchor in Wallabout Bay, with more ships added over time that were only usable as prisons for American troops. The names of many of these notorious ships have been preserved, including the Whitby, the Good Hope, the Hunter, the Prince of Wales, and, worst of all, the Jersey.
It was proposed to confine captured American seamen in these ships, but they also served as prisons for thousands of patriot soldiers taken in the land engagements in and about New York. The men were crowded in these small vessels under conditions which pass belief. They suffered untold misery and died by hundreds from lack of food, from exposure, smallpox and other dreadful diseases, and from the cruelty of their captors. The average death rate on the Jersey alone was ten per night. A conservative estimate places the total number of victims at 11,500. The dead were carried ashore and thrown into shallow graves or trenches of sand and these conditions of horror continued from the beginning of the war until after peace was declared. Few prisoners escaped and not many were exchanged, for their conditions were such that commanding officers hesitated to exchange healthy British prisoners in fine condition for the wasted, worn-out, human wrecks from the prison ships. A very large proportion of the total number of these prisoners perished. Of the survivors, many never fully recovered from their sufferings.
It was suggested to imprison captured American sailors on these ships, but they also became jails for thousands of patriot soldiers captured during battles in and around New York. The men were packed into these small vessels under conditions that are hard to believe. They endured unimaginable suffering and died by the hundreds from hunger, exposure, smallpox, and other terrible diseases, as well as from the brutality of their captors. The average death rate on the Jersey alone was ten per night. A conservative estimate calculates the total number of victims at 11,500. The dead were taken ashore and dumped into shallow graves or sand trenches, and these horrifying conditions continued from the start of the war until after peace was declared. Few prisoners escaped and not many were exchanged because conditions were so bad that commanding officers hesitated to trade healthy British prisoners in good shape for the emaciated, exhausted, human wrecks from the prison ships. A very large proportion of these prisoners died. Among the survivors, many never fully recovered from their experiences.
In 1808, it was said of the prison ship martyrs: “Dreadful, beyond description, was the condition of these unfortunate prisoners of war. Their sufferings and their sorrows were great, and unbounded was their fortitude. Under every privation and every anguish of life, they firmly encountered the terrors of death, rather than desert the cause of their country. * * *
In 1808, it was said of the prisoners on the ship: “The condition of these unfortunate prisoners of war was beyond terrible. Their suffering and sadness were immense, and their strength was limitless. Despite every hardship and all the pain of life, they bravely faced the fear of death rather than abandon the cause of their country. * * *
“There was no morsel of wholesome food, nor one drop of pure water. In these black abodes of wretchedness and woe, the grief worn prisoner lay, without a bed to rest his weary limbs, without a pillow to support his aching head—the tattered garment torn from his meager frame, and vermin preying on his flesh—his food was carrion, and his drink foul as the bilge water—there was no balm for his wounds, no cordial to revive his fainting spirits, no friend to comfort his heart, nor the soft hand of affection to close his dying eyes—heaped amongst the dead, while yet the spark of life lingered in his frame, and hurried to the grave before the cold arms of death had embraced him. * * *
“There was no healthy food, nor a drop of clean water. In these dark places of misery and despair, the grief-stricken prisoner lay, without a bed to rest his tired body, without a pillow to support his aching head—his tattered clothes ripped from his thin frame, and bugs crawling on his skin—his food was rotten, and his drink as foul as dirty water—there was no healing for his wounds, no comfort to revive his fading spirits, no friend to soothe his heart, nor the gentle hand of love to close his dying eyes—piled up among the dead, while the last spark of life lingered in him, he rushed to the grave before death could fully embrace him. * * *
“‘But,’ you will ask, ‘was there no relief for these victims of misery?’ No—there was no relief—their astonishing sufferings were concealed from the view of the world—and it was only from the few witnesses of the scene who afterwards lived to tell the cruelties they had endured, that our country became acquainted with their deplorable condition. The grim sentinels, faithful to their charge as the fiends of the nether world, barred the doors against the hand of charity, and godlike benevolence never entered there—compassion had fled from these mansions of despair, and pity wept over other woes.”
“‘But,’ you might ask, ‘wasn’t there any help for these victims of misery?’ No—there was no help—their shocking suffering was hidden from the world's view—and it was only from the few who witnessed the scene and later survived to share the horrors they faced that our country learned about their terrible situation. The grim guards, as loyal to their duty as the demons of the underworld, shut the doors against charity, and no divine kindness ever entered those places—compassion had abandoned these houses of despair, and sorrow shed tears for other troubles.”
Numerous accounts of survivors of the prison ships have been preserved and some of them have been published. So great was popular sympathy for them that immediately after the close of the Revolutionary War an attempt was made to gather the testimony of the survivors and to provide a fitting memorial for those who had perished. So far as I have been able to learn most of the diaries and journals and other testimony of the prison ship victims relates to the later years of the war and particularly to the Jersey, the largest, most conspicuous, and most horrible of all the prison ships.
Numerous accounts from survivors of the prison ships have been preserved, and some have been published. The public felt such strong sympathy for them that right after the Revolutionary War ended, there was an effort to collect testimonies from the survivors and create a proper memorial for those who had died. From what I've been able to gather, most of the diaries, journals, and other accounts from the prison ship victims focus on the later years of the war, especially regarding the Jersey, which was the largest, most noticeable, and most horrific of all the prison ships.
I have been so fortunate as to have access to a journal or diary kept by William Slade, of New Canaan, Conn, a young New Englander, who early responded to the call of his country and was captured by the British in 1776, shortly after his enlistment, and confined on one of the prison ships, the Grovner (or Grovesner). From internal evidence it would appear that this was the first or one of the first vessels used for the purpose and that Slade and the other prisoners with him were the first of the American soldiers thus confined. At any rate, throughout his diary he makes no mention of other bands of prisoners in the same condition The few small pages of this little diary, which was always kept in the possession of his family until it was deposited in the Sheldon Museum, of Middlebury, Vt, contain a plain record of every-day life throughout a period of great suffering. They do not discuss questions of State and policy, but they do seem to me to bring clearly before the mind’s eye conditions as they existed, and perhaps more clearly than elaborate treatises to give a picture of the sufferings of soldiers and sailors who preferred to endure all privations, hardships, and death itself rather than to renounce their allegiance to their country and enlist under the British flag.
I’ve been really lucky to have access to a journal kept by William Slade, a young guy from New Canaan, Connecticut. He answered his country's call early on and was captured by the British in 1776, shortly after he joined up, and ended up on one of their prison ships, the Grovner (or Grovesner). It seems this was the first or one of the first ships used for this purpose, and Slade and the other prisoners were among the first American soldiers to be confined like this. Throughout his diary, he doesn’t mention any other groups of prisoners in the same situation. The few small pages of this little diary, which his family kept until it was donated to the Sheldon Museum in Middlebury, Vermont, provide a straightforward account of everyday life during a time of great suffering. While they don’t delve into state matters or policies, they clearly depict the harsh conditions that existed at the time and, perhaps even more effectively than lengthy essays, illustrate the suffering of soldiers and sailors who chose to endure all hardships and even death instead of abandoning their loyalty to their country and serving under the British flag.
The first entry in the Slade diary was made November 16, 1776, and the last January 28, 1777, so it covers about ten weeks.
The first entry in the Slade diary was made on November 16, 1776, and the last on January 28, 1777, so it covers roughly ten weeks.
The entries were as follows:
The entries were as listed:
Fort Washington the 16th day November A.D. 1776. This day I, William Slade was taken with 2,800 more. We was allowed honours of War. We then marched to Harlem under guard, where we were turned into a barn. We got little rest that night being verry much crowded, as some trouble [illegible]. * * *
Fort Washington, November 16, 1776. Today, I, William Slade, was captured along with 2,800 others. We were granted honors of war. We then marched to Harlem under guard, where we were locked up in a barn. We got very little rest that night, as we were extremely crowded, and there was some trouble [illegible]. * * *
Sunday 17th. Such a Sabbath I never saw. We spent it in sorrow and hunger, having no mercy showd.
Sunday 17th. I've never experienced such a Sabbath. We spent it in grief and hunger, with no mercy shown.
Munday 18th. We were called out while it was still dark, but was soon marchd to New York, four deep, verry much frownd upon by all we saw. We was called Yankey Rebbels a going to the gallows. We got to York at 9 o’clock, were paraded, counted off and marched to the North Church, where we were confind under guard.
Munday 18th. We were called out while it was still dark, but we were soon marched to New York, four deep, very much frowned upon by everyone we saw. We were called Yankey Rebels headed to the gallows. We arrived in York at 9 o’clock, were paraded, counted off, and marched to the North Church, where we were confined under guard.
Tuesday 19th. Still confind without provisions till almost night, when we got a little mouldy bisd [biscuit] about four per man. These four days we spent in hunger and sorrow being derided by everry one and calld Rebs.
Tuesday 19th. We were still stuck without supplies until almost night, when we finally got a small piece of moldy biscuit, about four per person. We spent these four days in hunger and sadness, being mocked by everyone and called "Rebs."
Wednesday, 20th. We was reinforsd by 300 more. We had 500 before. This causd a continual noise and verry big huddle. Jest at night drawd 6 oz of pork per man. This we eat alone and raw.
Wednesday, 20th. We were reinforced by 300 more. We had 500 before. This caused a continuous noise and a really big crowd. Just at night, we drew 6 ounces of pork per person. We ate this alone and raw.
Thursday, 21st. We passd the day in sorrow haveing nothing to eat or drink but pump water.
Thursday, 21st. We spent the day in sorrow, having nothing to eat or drink except for pump water.
Friday, 22nd. We drawd 3/4 lb of pork, 3/4 lb of bisd, one gil of peas, a little rice and some kittels to cook in. Wet and cold.
Friday, 22nd. We got 3/4 lb of pork, 3/4 lb of biscuit, one gallon of peas, a little rice, and some kettles to cook in. Wet and cold.
Saturday, 23rd. We had camps stews plenty, it being all we had. We had now spent one week under confinement. Sad condition.
Saturday, 23rd. We had plenty of camp stew since that was all we had. We had now spent one week in confinement. A sad situation.
Munday, 25th. We drawd 1/2 lb of pork a man, 3/4 of bisd, a little peas and rice, and butter now plenty but not of the right kind.
Munday, 25th. We got half a pound of pork per person, three-quarters of bread, a little peas and rice, and there’s plenty of butter now, but it’s not the right kind.
Tuesday, 26th. We spent in cooking for wood was scarce and the church was verry well broke when done, but verry little to eat.
Tuesday, 26th. We spent the day cooking because wood was in short supply, and the church was very much damaged when we were done, but there was very little to eat.
Wednesday, 27th. Was spent in hunger. We are now dirty as hogs, lying any and every whare. Joys gone, sorrows increase.
Wednesday, 27th. Was spent in hunger. We are now as dirty as pigs, lying anywhere and everywhere. Joys are gone, and sorrows are increasing.
Thursday, 28th. Drawd 2 lbs of bread per man, 3/4 lb of pork. A little butter, rice and peas. This we cooked and eat with sorrow and sadness.
Thursday, 28th. We were given 2 lbs of bread per person, 3/4 lb of pork. A little butter, rice, and peas. We cooked this and ate it with sorrow and sadness.
Friday, 29th. We bussd [busied] ourselves with trifels haveing but little to do, time spent in vain.
Friday, 29th. We kept ourselves busy with trivial things, having very little to do, time spent in vain.
Saturday, 30th. We drawd 1 lb of bread, 1/2 lb of pork, a little butter, rice and peas. This we eat with sorrow, discouragd.
Saturday, 30th. We received 1 lb of bread, 1/2 lb of pork, a little butter, rice, and peas. We ate this feeling sad and discouraged.
Sunday, 1st of Decembere 1776. About 300 men was took out and carried on board the shipping. Sunday spent in vain.
Sunday, December 1st, 1776. About 300 men were taken out and brought aboard the ships. Sunday was wasted.
Munday, 2nd. Early in the morning we was calld out and stood in the cold, about one hour and then marchd to the North River and went on board The Grovnor transport ship. Their was now 500 men on board, this made much confusion. We had to go to bed without supper. This night was verry long, hunger prevaild much. Sorrow more.
Munday, 2nd. Early in the morning we were called out and stood in the cold for about an hour, then marched to the North River and boarded The Grovnor transport ship. There were now 500 men on board, which caused a lot of confusion. We had to go to bed without supper. This night felt very long; hunger took its toll, and sorrow even more.
Tuesday, 3rd. The whole was made in six men messes. Our mess drawd 4 lb of bisd, 4 oz of butter. Short allow. We now begin to feel like prisoners.
Tuesday, 3rd. The whole was organized into six-person groups. Our group received 4 lbs of bread and 4 oz of butter. Rations are short. We’re starting to feel like prisoners.
Wednesday, 4th. We drawd 4 lb of bisd. After noon drawd 2 quarts of peas and broth without salt, verry weak.
Wednesday, 4th. We drew 4 pounds of fish. After noon, we drew 2 quarts of peas and broth without salt, very weak.
Thursday, 5th. We drawd 4 lb of bisd at noon, a little meat at night. Some pea broth, about one mouthful per man. We now feel like prisoners.
Thursday, 5th. We drew 4 lbs of biscuits at noon, a little meat at night. Some pea soup, about one mouthful per person. We now feel like we are trapped.
Friday, 6th. of Decr. 1776. We drawd 1/2 of bisd, 4 oz of butter at noon and 2 quarts of provinder. Called burgo, poor stuff indeed.
Friday, December 6, 1776. We drew half a biscuit, 4 ounces of butter at noon, and 2 quarts of provisions. It was called burgo, really poor stuff.
Saturday, 7th. We drawd 4 lb of bisd at noon, a piece of meat and rice. This day drawd 2 bisd per man for back allowance (viz) for last Saturday at the church. This day the ships crew weighd anchor and fell down the river below Govnors Island and saild up the East River to Turcle Bay [Turtle Bay is at the foot of 23rd street], and cast anchor for winter months.
Saturday, 7th. We pulled in 4 pounds of food at noon, a piece of meat and rice. Today we received 2 portions per person as back allowance, meaning from last Saturday at the church. This day the ship's crew weighed anchor and moved down the river past Governor's Island and sailed up the East River to Turtle Bay [Turtle Bay is at the foot of 23rd street], and dropped anchor for the winter months.
Sunday, 8th. This day we were almost discouraged, but considered that would not do. Cast off such thoughts. We drawd our bread and eat with sadness. At noon drawd meat and peas. We spent the day reading and in meditation, hopeing for good news.
Sunday, 8th. Today we were feeling pretty discouraged, but we realized that wouldn’t help. We pushed those thoughts aside. We took out our bread and ate in sadness. At noon, we had meat and peas. We spent the day reading and reflecting, hoping for good news.
Munday, 9th. We drawd bisd and butter at noon, burgo [a kind of porrige] the poorest trade ever man eat. Not so good as provinder or swill.
Munday, 9th. We had bread and butter at noon, porridge, the worst food anyone has ever eaten. Not as good as provisions or slop.
Tuesday, 10th. We drawd bisd at noon, a little meat and rice. Good news. We hear we are to be exchangd soon. Corpl. Hawl verry bad with small pox.
Tuesday, 10th. We had some meat and rice at noon. Good news. We heard we are going to be exchanged soon. Corporal Hawl is very sick with smallpox.
Wednesday, 11th. We drawd bisd. Last night Corpl Hawl died and this morning is buryd. At noon drawd peas, I mean broth. Still in hopes.
Wednesday, 11th. We took inventory. Last night Corporal Hawl passed away and this morning he was buried. At noon, we had peas, I mean broth. Still hopeful.
Thursday, 12th. We drawd bisd. This morning is the first time we see snow. At noon drawd a little meat and pea broth. Verry thin. We almost despair of being exchangd.
Thursday, 12th. We drew our rations. This morning is the first time we’ve seen snow. At noon, we got a little meat and pea soup. Very thin. We're almost losing hope about being exchanged.
Friday, 13th of Decr. 1776. We drawd bisd and butter. A little water broth. We now see nothing but the mercy of God to intercede for us. Sorrowful times, all faces look pale, discouraged, discouraged.
Friday, December 13th, 1776. We had bread and butter. A bit of water broth. All we can do is rely on God's mercy to help us. These are sad times; everyone looks pale and discouraged.
Saturday, 14th. We drawd bisd, times look dark. Deaths prevail among us, also hunger and naked. We almost conclude (that we will have) to stay all winter At noon drawd meat and rice. Cold increases. At night suffer with cold and hunger. Nights verry long and tiresome, weakness prevails.
Saturday, 14th. We've run out of food, and things look bleak. We're facing many deaths among us, as well as hunger and lack of clothing. We almost decide that we'll have to stay here all winter. At noon, we ate meat and rice. The cold is getting worse. At night, we struggle with both cold and hunger. The nights are very long and exhausting; weakness is taking over.
Sunday, 15th. Drawd bisd, paleness attends all faces, the melancholyst day I ever saw. At noon drawd meat and peas. Sunday gone and comfort. As sorrowfull times as I ever saw.
Sunday, 15th. It was cloudy, everyone looked pale, and it was the saddest day I’ve ever seen. At noon, we had meat and peas. Another Sunday gone, and not a bit of comfort. It was as sorrowful a time as I’ve ever experienced.
Munday, 16th of Decr. 1776. Drawd bisd and butter at noon. *Burgo poor. Sorrow increases. The tender mercys of men are cruelty.
Munday, 16th of Dec. 1776. Dried bread and butter at noon. *Burgers are scarce. Sadness grows. The kindness of men feels like cruelty.
Tuesday, 17th. Drawd bisd. At noon meat and rice No fire. Suffer with cold and hunger. We are treated worse than cattle and hogs.
Tuesday, 17th. Drawd bisd. At noon, we had meat and rice. No fire. We're freezing and starving. We're treated worse than cattle and pigs.
Wednesday, 18th. Drawd bisd and butter. At noon peas. I went and got a bole of peas for 4. Cole increases Hunger prevails. Sorrow comes on.
Wednesday, 18th. Dried fish and butter. At noon, peas. I went and got a bowl of peas for 4. The cold is making me hungrier. Sadness is creeping in.
Thursday, 19th., Drawd bisd the ship halld in for winter quarters. At noon drawd meat and peas. People grow sick verry fast. Prisoners verry much frownd upon by all
Thursday, 19th, Drawd brought the ship in for winter quarters. At noon, we served meat and peas. People are getting sick very quickly. Prisoners are looked down upon by everyone.
Friday, 20th. of Decr. 1776. Drawd bisd and butter this morn. Snow and cold. 2 persons dead on deck. Last night verry long and tiresom. At noon drawd burgo Prisoners hang their heads and look pale. No comfort. All sorrow.
Friday, December 20, 1776. Drew bisque and butter this morning. Snow and cold. 2 people dead on deck. Last night was very long and exhausting. At noon, drew burgoyne prisoners who hang their heads and look pale. No comfort. All sorrow.
Saturday, 31st. Drawd bisd. Last night one of our regt got on shore but got catched. Troubles come on comfort gone. At noon drawd meat and rice. Verry cold Soldiers and sailors verry cross. Such melancholy times I never saw.
Saturday, 31st. Drawn food. Last night one of our regiment made it ashore but got caught. Troubles come and comfort is gone. At noon, we drew meat and rice. It's really cold. Soldiers and sailors are very grumpy. I've never seen such sad times.
Sunday, 22nd. Last night nothing but grones all night of sick and dying. Men amazeing to behold. Such hardness, sickness prevails fast. Deaths multiply. Drawd bisd. At noon meat and peas. Weather cold. Sunday gone and no comfort. Had nothing but sorrow and sadness. All faces sad.
Sunday, 22nd. Last night was filled with nothing but groans from the sick and dying. People were astonishing to see. There’s so much suffering and illness spreading quickly. Deaths are increasing. Felt drained. At noon, we had meat and peas. The weather is cold. Sunday is over, and there’s no comfort. It’s all grief and sadness. Everyone looks downcast.
Munday, 23rd. Drawd bisd and butter. This morning Sergt Kieth, Job March and several others broke out with the small pox. About 20 gone from here today that listed in the king’s service. Times look verry dark. But we are in hopes of an exchange. One dies almost every day. Cold but pleasant. Burgo for dinner. People gone bad with the pox.
Munday, 23rd. Dried fish and butter. This morning Sergeant Kieth, Job March, and several others came down with smallpox. About 20 left here today to join the king’s service. Things look very bleak. But we are hoping for an exchange. One person dies almost every day. Cold but nice weather. Dinner was burgoo. People are getting sick with the pox.
Tuesday, 24th. Last night verry long and tiresom. Bisd. At noon rice and cornmeal. About 30 sick. (They) Were carried to town. Cold but pleasant. No news. All faces gro pale and sad.
Tuesday, 24th. Last night was very long and tiring. Visited. At noon, we had rice and cornmeal. About 30 people were sick and were taken to town. It was cold but pleasant. No news. Everyone's face looks pale and sad.
Wednesday, 25th. Lastnight was a sorrowful night. Nothing but grones and cries all night. Drawd bisd and butter. At noon peas. Capt Benedict, Leiut Clark and Ensn Smith come on board and brought money for the prisoners. Sad times.
Wednesday, 25th. Last night was a sad night. All I heard were groans and cries throughout the night. Dried fish and butter. At noon, peas. Captain Benedict, Lieutenant Clark, and Ensign Smith came on board and brought money for the prisoners. Tough times.
Thursday, 26th. Last night was spent in dying grones and cries. I now gro poorly. Terrible storm as ever I saw. High wind. Drawd bisd. At noon meat and peas. Verry cold and stormey.
Thursday, 26th. Last night was filled with dying groans and cries. I now feel unwell. It was the worst storm I've ever seen. Strong winds. Drawn back. At noon, we had meat and peas. Very cold and stormy.
Friday, 27th. Three men of our battalion died last night. The most malencholyest night I ever saw. Small pox increases fast. This day I was blooded. Drawd bisd and butter. Stomach all gone. At noon, burgo. Basset is verry sick. Not like to live I think.
Friday, 27th. Three men from our battalion died last night. It was the saddest night I’ve ever seen. Smallpox is spreading quickly. Today, I had blood drawn. Had bread and butter. My stomach is completely gone. At noon, I had a burger. Basset is really sick. I don’t think he’s going to make it.
Saturday 28th. Drawd bisd. This morning about 10 cl Josiah Basset died. Ensn Smith come here about noon with orders to take me a shore. We got to shore about sunset. I now feel glad. Coffee and bread and cheese.
Saturday 28th. Drawd bisd. This morning around 10 o'clock, Josiah Basset passed away. Ensn Smith came here around noon with orders to take me ashore. We arrived at the shore just before sunset. I feel pretty happy now. Coffee and bread and cheese.
Sunday, 29th. Cof. and bread and cheese. This day washed my blanket and bkd my cloathes. The small pox now begins to come out.
Sunday, 29th. Coffee, bread, and cheese. Today I washed my blanket and baked my clothes. The smallpox is starting to show.
Munday, 30th. Nothing but bread to eat and coffee to drink. This day got a glass of wine and drinkd. Got some gingerbread and appels to eat.
Munday, 30th. Only bread to eat and coffee to drink. Today I had a glass of wine and drank it. I got some gingerbread and apples to eat.
Tuesday, 31st. Nothing good for breakt. At noon verry good. I grow something poorly all day. No fire and tis cold. Pox comes out verry full for the time. The folks being gone I went into another house and got the man of the same to go and call my brother. When he came he said I wanted looking after. The man concluded to let me stay at his house.
Tuesday, 31st. Nothing good for breakfast. At noon, it was really good. I felt pretty unwell all day. No fire and it's cold. The pox flared up pretty bad for the time. With everyone gone, I went into another house and asked the man there to go call my brother. When he arrived, he said I looked like I needed some care. The man decided to let me stay at his house.
Wednesday 1st of Jany 1777. Pox come out almost full. About this time Job March and Daniel Smith died with the small pox.
Wednesday, January 1, 1777. Smallpox came out almost fully. Around this time, Job March and Daniel Smith died from smallpox.
Thursday, 2nd. Ensn Smith lookd about and got something to ly on and in. A good deal poorly, but I endeavourd to keep up a good heart, considering that I should have it (the small pox) light for it was verry thin and almost full.
Thursday, 2nd. Ensn Smith looked around and found something to lie on and in. I was feeling pretty rough, but I tried to stay optimistic, thinking that I would get the smallpox mild since it was very light and almost full.
Friday 3d. This morning the pox looks black in my face. This day Robert Arnold and Joshua Hurd died with the small pox. This day Ensn Smith got liberty to go home next morning, but omitted going till Sunday on account of the prisoners going home.
Friday 3rd. This morning, the pox looks dark on my face. Today, Robert Arnold and Joshua Hurd died from smallpox. Ensn Smith was allowed to go home tomorrow morning but ended up not leaving until Sunday because of the prisoners being sent home.
Saturday, 4th. Felt more poor than common. This day the prisoners come on shore so many as was able to travel which was not near all.
Saturday, 4th. Felt poorer than usual. Today, the prisoners who were able to travel came ashore, but it wasn't nearly all of them.
Sunday, 5th. This morning Ensn Smith and about 150 prisoners were set out for home. The prisoners lookd verry thin and poor.
Sunday, 5th. This morning, Ensn Smith and around 150 prisoners were sent home. The prisoners looked very thin and poor.
Monday 6th. Pox turnd a good deal but I was very poorly, eat but litte. Drink much. Something vapery. Coughd all night.
Monday 6th. The rash got worse, but I was feeling very sick, ate very little. Drank a lot. Felt a bit lightheaded. Coughing all night.
Tuesday 7th. Nothing reml [remarkable] to write. No stomach to eat at all. Got some bacon.
Tuesday 7th. Nothing remarkable to write. Just no appetite at all. Got some bacon.
Wednesday, 8th. Feel better. This day I went out of doors twice. Nothing remarkl to write.
Wednesday, 8th. Feeling better. Today I went outside twice. Nothing notable to report.
Thursday, 9th. Tryd to git some salts to take but could not. Begin to eat a little better.
Thursday, 9th. Tried to get some salts to take but couldn’t. Started to eat a bit better.
Friday, 10th. Took a portion of salts. Eat water porrage. Gain in strength fast.
Friday, 10th. Took some salts. Ate water porridge. Gaining strength quickly.
Saturday, 11th. Walk out. Went and see our Connecticut officers. Travld round. Felt a good deal better.
Saturday, 11th. Went out for a walk. Visited our Connecticut officers. Traveled around. Felt much better.
Sunday, 12th. Went and bought a pint of milk for bread. Verry good dinner. Gain strength fast. Verry fine weather Went and see the small-pox men and Samll.
Sunday, 12th. Went and bought a pint of milk for the bread. Very good dinner. Gaining strength quickly. Very nice weather. Went to see the smallpox patients and Samll.
Munday, 13th. Feel better. Went and see the officer. Talk about going home.
Munday, 13th. Feeling better. Went to see the officer. Talked about going home.
Tuesday, 14th. Went to Fulton market and spent seven coppers for cakes. Eat them up. Washd my blanket.
Tuesday, 14th. Went to Fulton Market and spent seven cents on cakes. Ate them all. Washed my blanket.
Wednesday 15. Cleand up all my cloathes. Left Mr. Fenixes and went to the widow Schuylers. Board myself.
Wednesday 15. Cleaned up all my clothes. Left Mr. Fenix's and went to the widow Schuyler's. Boarding myself.
Thursday, 16th. Went to Commesary Loring. Have incouragement of going home. Signd the parole.
Thursday, 16th. Went to Commissary Loring. I feel encouraged about going home. Signed the parole.
Friday, 17th. In expectation of going out a Sunday. Verry cold. Buy milk and make milk porrage. Verry good liveing. Had my dinner give.
Friday, 17th. Looking forward to going out on Sunday. Very cold. Buy milk and make milk porridge. Very good living. Had my dinner given.
Saturday, 18t. Verry cold. Went to see Katy and got my dinner. Went to Mr. Loring. Some encouragement of going hom a Munday, to have an answer tomorrow morning. Bought suppawn (some corn?) meal and Yankey.
Saturday, 18th. Very cold. Went to see Katy and had my dinner. Went to Mr. Loring. Some encouragement about going home on Monday, to get an answer tomorrow morning. Bought cornmeal and Yankee.
Sunday, 19th. Went to Mr. Lorings. He sd we should go out in 2 or 3 days. The reason of not going out now is they are a fighting at Kingsbridge. Went to Phenixes and got my dinner. Almost discouraged about going home. To have answer tomorrow.
Sunday, 19th. Went to Mr. Loring's. He said we should go out in 2 or 3 days. The reason for not going out now is that they're fighting at Kingsbridge. Went to Phenix's and got my dinner. I'm feeling pretty discouraged about going home. Should have an answer tomorrow.
Munday, 20th. Nothing remarkable. Mr. Loring sd we should have an answer tomorrow. An old story.
Munday, 20th. Nothing notable. Mr. Loring said we should have an answer tomorrow. Just the same old story.
Tuesday, 21st. Still follow going to Mr. Lorings. No success. He keeps a saying come tomorrow. Nothing remarkable.
Tuesday, 21st. Still trying to see Mr. Lorings. No luck. He keeps saying to come back tomorrow. Nothing noteworthy.
Wednesday, 22. Mr. Loring says we should have a guard tomorrow, but it fell through. The word is we shall go out in 2 or 3 days.
Wednesday, 22. Mr. Loring says we should have a guard tomorrow, but it didn’t work out. The word is we’ll go out in 2 or 3 days.
Thursday, 23d. Nothing remarkl. Almost conclude to stay all winter.
Thursday, 23rd. Nothing to report. I'm almost ready to decide to stay all winter.
Friday, 24th. Encouragement. Mr. Loring say that we shall go tomorrow. We must parade at his quaters tomorrow by 8 oclok.
Friday, 24th. Encouragement. Mr. Loring says that we will go tomorrow. We must gather at his quarters tomorrow by 8 o'clock.
Saturday, 25th. We paraded at Mr. Lorings by 8 or 9 oclk. Marchd off about 10 oclk. Marchd about 6 miles and the officers got a waggon and 4 or 5 of us rid about 4 miles, then travl’d about 1-1/2, then the offr got a waggon and broght us to the lines. We were blindfolded when we come by Fort Independency. Come about 4/5 of a mile whare we stay all night. Lay on the floor in our cloathes but little rest.
Saturday, the 25th. We gathered at Mr. Loring's by 8 or 9 o'clock. Set off around 10 o'clock. Walked about 6 miles, and the officers got a wagon so 4 or 5 of us could ride about 4 miles, then traveled about 1.5 miles more, and then the officer got another wagon and brought us to the lines. We were blindfolded as we passed Fort Independence. We arrived about 0.8 miles away where we stayed all night. We laid on the floor in our clothes with very little rest.
Sunday, 26th. We marchd by sun rise. March but 8 miles whare we got supper and lodging on free cost. This day gave 18 pence for breekft, 19 pence for dinner.
Sunday, 26th. We marched at sunrise. We only covered 8 miles where we had dinner and a place to stay at no charge. Today, I spent 18 pence on breakfast and 19 pence on lunch.
Munday, 27th. Marchd 2 miles. Got breekft cost 19 pence. Travld 2 or 3 miles and a waggon overtook us a going to Stamford. We now got chance to ride. Our dinner cost 11 count lawful. About 3 oclok met with Capt Hinmans company. See Judea folks and heard from home. This day come 13 miles to Horse neck. Supper cost 16. Lodging free.
Munday, March 27th. Traveled 2 miles. Had breakfast that cost 19 pence. Traveled another 2 or 3 miles and a wagon passed us on the way to Stamford. We finally got a chance to ride. Our lunch cost 11 lawful pence. Around 3 o'clock, we met Captain Hinman's group. Saw some folks from Judea and heard news from home. Today we covered 13 miles to Horse Neck. Dinner cost 16 pence. Lodging was free.
Tuesday, 28th. Breekft cost 11. Rode to Stamford. Dinner 16. Travld 3 miles, supr and lodg free.
Tuesday, 28th. Breakfast cost 11. Rode to Stamford. Dinner 16. Traveled 3 miles, supper and lodging free.
Here the diary ends when Slade was within a few miles of his home at New Canaan, Conn., which he reached next day.
Here the diary ends when Slade was just a few miles from his home in New Canaan, Conn., which he reached the next day.
Perhaps a few words of his future life are not without interest. He was one of the early settlers who went from Connecticut to Vermont and made a home in what was then a frontier settlement. He lived and died at Cornwall, Vt., and was successful and respected in the community. From 1801 to 1810 he was sheriff of Addison County. Of his sons, one, William, was especially conspicuous among the men of his generation for his abilities and attainments. After graduation from Middlebury College in 1810, he studied law, was admitted to the bar, and filled many offices in his town and county. After some business reverses he secured a position in the State Department in Washington in 1821. He was on the wrong side politically in General Jackson’s campaign for the presidency, being like most Vermonters a supporter of John Quincy Adams. Some time after Jackson’s inauguration, Slade was removed from his position in the State Department and this so incensed his friends in Vermont that as soon as a vacancy arose he was elected as Representative to Congress, where he remained from 1831 to 1843. On his return from Washington he was elected Governor of Vermont in 1844, and in his later years was corresponding secretary and general agent of the Board of National and Popular Education, for which he did most valuable work. He was a distinguished speaker and an author of note, his Vermont State Papers being still a standard reference work.
Perhaps a few words about his future life are worth noting. He was one of the early settlers who moved from Connecticut to Vermont and built a home in what was then a frontier settlement. He lived and died in Cornwall, Vt., and was successful and respected in the community. From 1801 to 1810, he served as sheriff of Addison County. Of his sons, one, William, stood out among his peers for his abilities and accomplishments. After graduating from Middlebury College in 1810, he studied law, was admitted to the bar, and held many positions in his town and county. After facing some business setbacks, he secured a job in the State Department in Washington in 1821. He found himself on the losing side politically during General Jackson’s presidential campaign, as most Vermonters were supporters of John Quincy Adams. Some time after Jackson’s inauguration, Slade was removed from his position in the State Department, which angered his friends in Vermont so much that as soon as a vacancy opened up, he was elected as a Representative to Congress, serving from 1831 to 1843. Upon returning from Washington, he was elected Governor of Vermont in 1844, and in his later years, he served as the corresponding secretary and general agent of the Board of National and Popular Education, where he did valuable work. He was a noted speaker and an accomplished author, with his Vermont State Papers still being a standard reference work.
To revert to the prison ship martyrs, their suffering was so great and their bravery so conspicuous that immediately after the War a popular attempt was made in 1792 and 1798 to provide a proper resting place for the bones of the victims, which were scattered in the sands about Wallabout Bay. This effort did not progress very rapidly and it was not until the matter was taken up by the Tammany Society that anything definite was really accomplished. Owing to the efforts of this organization a vault covered by a small building was erected in 1808 and the bones were collected and placed in the vault in thirteen large coffins, one for each of the thirteen colonies, the interment being accompanied by imposing ceremonies. In time the vault was neglected, and it was preserved only by the efforts of a survivor, Benjamin Romaine, who bought the plot of ground on which the monument stood, when it was sold for taxes, and preserved it. He died at an advanced age and was, by his own request, buried in the vault with these Revolutionary heroes.
To go back to the martyrs of the prison ship, their suffering was immense and their courage remarkable, prompting popular efforts in 1792 and 1798 to establish a proper resting place for the remains of the victims, scattered in the sands of Wallabout Bay. Progress on this effort was slow until the Tammany Society took charge, leading to real accomplishments. Thanks to this organization, a vault topped by a small building was built in 1808, and the bones were gathered and placed in thirteen large coffins, one for each of the thirteen colonies, with significant ceremonies marking the burial. Over time, the vault fell into neglect, preserved only through the dedication of a survivor, Benjamin Romaine, who bought the land where the monument stood when it was sold for taxes, ensuring its protection. He lived to an old age and, by his own wish, was buried in the vault alongside these Revolutionary heroes.
Early in the last century an attempt was made to interest Congress in a project to erect a suitable monument for the prison ship martyrs but without success. The project has, however, never been abandoned by patriotic and public spirited citizens and the Prison Ship Martyrs’ Society of the present time is a lineal descendant in spirit and purpose of the Tammany Club effort, which first honored these Revolutionary heroes. The efforts of the Prison Ship Martyrs’ Association have proved successful and a beautiful monument, designed by Stanford White, will soon mark the resting place of these prison ship martyrs.
Early in the last century, there was an effort to get Congress interested in building a memorial for the prison ship martyrs, but it didn’t succeed. However, patriotic and community-minded citizens have never given up on this project, and today’s Prison Ship Martyrs’ Society is a direct continuation of the Tammany Club’s initial effort to honor these Revolutionary heroes. The work of the Prison Ship Martyrs’ Association has been successful, and a beautiful monument designed by Stanford White will soon stand at the resting place of these martyrs.
APPENDIX C
BIBLIOGRAPHY
The writer of this volume has been very much assisted in her task by Mr. Frank Moore’s Diary of the Revolution, a collection of extracts from the periodicals of the day. This valuable compilation has saved much time and trouble. Other books that have been useful are the following.
The author of this book has greatly benefited from Mr. Frank Moore’s Diary of the Revolution, which is a collection of excerpts from the periodicals of that time. This valuable resource has saved a lot of time and effort. Other books that have been helpful include the following.
Adventures of Christopher Hawkins.
Adventures of Christopher Hawkins.
Adventures of Ebenezer Fox. Published in Boston, by Charles Fox, in 1848.
Adventures of Ebenezer Fox. Published in Boston by Charles Fox in 1848.
History of Brooklyn by Stiles.
History of Brooklyn by Stiles.
Bolton’s Private Soldier of the Revolution.
Bolton’s Private Soldier of the Revolution.
Bigelow’s Life of B. Franklin, vol II, pages 403 to 411.
Bigelow’s Life of B. Franklin, vol II, pages 403 to 411.
Account of Interment of Remains of American Prisoners. Reprint, by Rev. Henry R. Stiles.
Account of the Burial of American Prisoners. Reprint by Rev. Henry R. Stiles.
Elias Boudinot’s Journal and Historical Recollections.
Elias Boudinot’s Journal and Historical Recollections.
Watson’s Annals.
Watson's Journals.
Thomas Dring’s Recollections of the Jersey Prison Ship, re-edited by H. B. Dawson, 1865.
Thomas Dring’s Recollections of the Jersey Prison Ship, re-edited by H. B. Dawson, 1865.
Thomas Andros’s Old Jersey Captive, Boston, 1833.
Thomas Andros’s Old Jersey Captive, Boston, 1833.
Lossing’s Field Book of the Revolution.
Lossing’s Field Book of the Revolution.
Memoirs of Ethan Allen, written by himself.
Memoirs of Ethan Allen, written by him.
Journal of Dr. Elias Cornelius.
Dr. Elias Cornelius' Journal.
Dunlap’s New York.
Dunlap's NYC.
Narrative of Nathaniel Fanning.
Story of Nathaniel Fanning.
Narrative of Jabez Fitch.
Story of Jabez Fitch.
Valentine’s Manual of New York.
Valentine's Guide to New York.
The Old Martyrs’ Prison. A pamphlet.
The Old Martyrs' Prison. A brochure.
Jones’s New York.
Jones New York.
Poems of Philip Freneau.
Philip Freneau's Poems.
Prison Ship Martyrs, by Rev. Henry R. Stiles.
Prison Ship Martyrs, by Rev. Henry R. Stiles.
A Relic of the Revolution, by Rev. R. Livesey, Published by G. C. Rand, Boston, 1854.
A Relic of the Revolution, by Rev. R. Livesey, Published by G. C. Rand, Boston, 1854.
Memoirs of Alexander Graydon.
Memoirs of Alexander Graydon.
Memoir of Eli Bickford.
Eli Bickford's Memoir.
Martyrs of the Revolution, by George Taylor, 1820.
Martyrs of the Revolution, by George Taylor, 1820.
Memoirs of Andrew Sherburne.
Memoirs of Andrew Sherburne.
Mrs. Ellet’s Domestic History of the Revolution, pages 106-116.
Mrs. Ellet’s Domestic History of the Revolution, pages 106-116.
Irving’s Life of Washington, vol. III, p. 19.
Irving’s Life of Washington, vol. III, p. 19.
Experiences of Levi Handford. C. I. Bushnell, New York, 1863.
Experiences of Levi Handford. C. I. Bushnell, New York, 1863.
Onderdonk’s Suffolk and King’s Counties, New York.
Onderdonk’s Suffolk and King’s Counties, New York.
Philbrook’s Narrative in Rhode Island Historical Society’s Proceedings, 1874 and 1875.
Philbrook’s Narrative in Rhode Island Historical Society’s Proceedings, 1874 and 1875.
Harper’s Monthly, vol. XXXVII.
Harper’s Monthly, vol. 37.
Historical Magazine, vol. VI, p. 147.
Historical Magazine, vol. VI, p. 147.
Mrs. Lamb’s New York.
Mrs. Lamb’s NYC.
Jeremiah Johnson’s Recollections of Brooklyn and New York.
Jeremiah Johnson’s Memories of Brooklyn and New York.
Life of Silas Talbot, by Tuckerman.
Life of Silas Talbot, by Tuckerman.
Ramsey’s History of the Revolution, vol. II, p. 9.
Ramsey’s History of the Revolution, vol. II, p. 9.
Narrative of John Blatchford, edited by Charles I, Bushnell, 1865.
Narrative of John Blatchford, edited by Charles I, Bushnell, 1865.
Irish-American Hist. Miscellany, published by the author, 1906, by Mr. John D. Crimmins.
Irish-American Hist. Miscellany, published by the author, 1906, by Mr. John D. Crimmins.
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